“Take us over there!”

Gesturing passionately, Abel looked from the horizon back to Gabe. His face was red and angry and his voice was ferocious.

Their course remained the same.

“Why aren’t you turning us? We need to go in that direction!” He exclaimed again, growing desperate.

“We cannot risk the shallows. This vessel is too large. And our cargo will not stand any rough treatment. Why don’t you settle down and let me do the navigating,” Gabe responded coldly.

“I can’t believe how little you seem to care about this!” Abel exclaimed, exasperated and furious. “You realize that we will be too late, don’t you? We might as well turn back now!”

Gabe gave no reply. All his attention was on the water and approaching shoreline. He had confidence in his skill, and although having a stressed and shouting companion was not his first choice, he had the patience and control to completely ignore one.

A third voice ventured to intervene, trying to calm the storming Abel.

“Abel, Gabe is doing all he can. We must trust each other. Arguing will not save my daughter,” said Dorcas evenly. “She may be dead already for all we know. You both knew this to be a fool’s errand when you agreed to help me.” The grieving mother was taught with restraint. Holding herself tightly against an array of gunny sacks moored to the vessel’s side, trying to protect their contents from any possible damage, not only her posture but her voice, her eyes, and her whole carriage were strained and straightened in desperation.

Gabe, in the meantime, had found a strong current, and was gently guiding their craft toward its mooring. “You see?” He smirked, glancing at Abel. “Hardly took a moment. And no glass broken.” He jumped over and splashed toward shore with a line.

“I hate your smug guts,” Abel responded sullenly, “but good, about time. Come on, mother, hand me those sacks.” He called Dorcas mother out of respect for her years. He had taken a liking to the lady, partly because she was sweet and partly because she was tough and partly because he had seen her beauty of a daughter. Gabe liked her too, because she was practical and quiet. And partly because he had seen her beauty of a daughter.

“Take the glass,” Dorcas said, passing sacks carefully, although she trembled with nervous energy. “We must get them to the ogre undamaged. Mind the rocks.”

Abel hoisted two, leaving one for his companion Gave to manage. What a pain having such a boring and bland business partner. Useful in a pinch, though, and when doing anything on the water. At least Gabe got things done. He had secured a boat on very short notice, and although small, was agile and energetic enough to keep up with any of Abel’s stunts. And secretly, Abel admired his partner’s quiet confidence.

“Come on, shorty. Let’s get over this hill,” he said over his shoulder, turning toward the castle with a hand under Dorcas’s elbow. “Oh, I meant him, not you,” he laughed, as he met Dorcas’s eyes.

Gabe, busy tying up their pilfered vessel, noted the rude treatment and lack of acknowledgment. “I hate your smug guts,” he declared to Abel’s retreating back, then lifted the sack of clinking glass and followed him up the hill. Abel could be rude, oblivious, and at times, a crybaby. But he certainly was caring and capable. And secretly, Gabe admired his partner’s talkative friendly nature.

-to be continued, perhaps-