The east wind howled on, endlessly, driving the battered Longship toward an unknown west. In this early summer of June, the Azores High from the North Atlantic formed a fierce pressure difference against the surrounding American continents. Hurricanes rose over the sea, and in the direction of the pressure, they whirled the great winds and heavy rain and hurled them toward land.
As the Longship went west, they could see flying seabirds, but rarely any swimming fish. The sea was a blue desert; the closer one drew to the deep ocean, the farther from the mainland and the currents, the more so it became. Fortunately, the Kingdom's last exploring Longship had only stood at the desert's edge and taken two cautious steps before swiftly sailing back toward the fertile nearshore waters.
"Four days of storm... six days drifting... a full ten days! The boat hasn't stopped once... why haven't we reached shore yet..."
Old Militia Chiwako lay at the bow, so hungry he no longer had the strength to stand. The food aboard had only been enough for three days, and after everyone endured the storm, they faced the torment of starvation. The warriors cut up leather armor, slicing it into thin strips and handing them out to everyone on the ship. The sailors cast out the sisal fishing net and hung it off the stern, trying their luck to see if it might catch something.
Old Militia Chiwako gnawed leather for three days. It was hard and astringent, nearly ruining his teeth. Not until the fourth day did the fishing net snag two fish, enough to boil a pot of fish soup. Twenty-one people split it among themselves; each person only drank two mouthfuls, but at least it soothed their stomachs a little.
"There are more birds in the