Thomas Thompson watched the water rushing up to greet him. He had no illusions. He was going to hit hard. He hoped his makeshift parachute had slowed him down so he didn't break his legs.

His plan had been desperate and a little crazy. On the other hand, being trapped while pirates tried to get in where you were and kill you was just a sooner death as far as he was concerned.

He hit the water. Pain shot up through his legs. He let go of the blanket and tried to recover his breath. He was down, but he had to get out of the water and make it to the boat anchored near the island before the owners descended to the row boat on the beach.

And he didn't know what kind of predators were in the water with him. Getting out seemed the best thing to do if he could get his legs to start moving again.

Tom pulled himself against the current toward the anchored boat. He didn't know if he could sail it on his own, but he was willing to give it a try. Not making it meant drowning.

The princess would not like that.

He reached the boat. The anchor chain descended into the ocean. It looked like the only way to board. He looked back at the beach. He didn't see anyone moving. Maybe they thought he was dead.

If they did think he was dead, they wouldn't be worried about him boarding their boat. They might think he had hit the ocean and drowned.

He would prove them right if he didn't get out of the water before his arms tired and he sank down under the waves.

Tom grabbed the anchor chain with both hands. He floated there as he gathered up his strength. He closed his eyes. Then he surged up the chain, pulling himself up with his hands changing grips as fast as he could. He reached the port the chain slid through and held on while looking at how to get on deck.

He decided to swing over and grab the rail above where the chain left the deck. He took a moment to think about the moves he was going to do. He didn't like the numbness in his legs, but he had to get away before he could worry about how badly he was hurt.

He swung his body gently and then when he thought he was at the top of his arc, he let go of the chain and grabbed for the railing. He hit with one hand, and missed. The other seized the wood and refused to let go. He grabbed a hold with his other hand and pulled himself over the railing.

Now he had to do the next part of his escape.

The chain attached to the anchor ran around a reel. Turning the reel pulled the anchor up. If he wanted to move, he had to set at least one sail so he didn't drift with the current into the island.

He got to his feet. Pain shot up to his hips. He gritted his teeth and staggered to the main mast. Ropes secured the sails out of the way. He found a rope to pull the cloth into place. He undid the knots holding the sheet down and pulled the rope until it was in place. He secured the rope.

The wind started pushing on the sail, but the anchor was still holding it in place. Tom staggered across the deck. He knelt on the deck and slowly turned the reel. After each revolution, a bar would snap in place to make sure the reel didn't unwind the anchor chain again. The boat started moving out to sea as Tom worked.

Maybe he should have raised the anchor first before raising the sail. He supposed that escaping had been uppermost in his mind, and not the exact logistics of everything.

He needed to hurry and finish raising the anchor. He didn't want the helm to turn and run him aground where he had left the crew.

He decided that he could look at the helm while the anchor floated below the boat. It should be up enough to avoid snagging on anything.

He went to the wheel at the stern of the boat. He turned it so the boat floated on a course directly away from his former home. He let the wheel return to a neutral position to keep it on course. He found a lock affixed to the deck. He realized he could push the locking lever in place and that would keep the boat on course without his input until he had to change course again.

He went back to the anchor reel. He worked it until he heard a thump against the hull of the boat. He locked the reel in place and went to the side. The anchor hung from the side of the bow. That part seemed to be working well.

Where was he going? He had no idea of that, and had no way to determine direction in the daylight. He wondered if he was sailing in the right direction.

He decided that a better use of his time was looking for supplies. He might have stolen a boat without food or water. He didn't want to starve or die of thirst while he looked for the Fount of Stars.

He hoped there were supplies. He had no idea where he could stop to pick up food. He supposed he could fish from the railing for food, but what was he going to do about water?

Tom descended below decks and looked around. He found two decks stacked on each other. The middle deck held eight cannons, four to a side. He noted drums of powder and balls in supply boxes. The bottom deck had a barracks room, kitchen, and a pantry. He found a rack full of wine bottles, but no water barrels.

The sailors drank nothing but wine? That couldn't be good for them.

He went over the contents of the pantry. He found cans of food, but they weren't labeled. A bag of bananas hung from a hook in one wall. A few bottles of seasoning sat in a rack. It didn't look like much to him.

Everything but the bananas was suspect, and he didn't think they would last long. He needed to find a place to get things he knew were safe and water. There was no telling how long he would be at sea trying to find the Fount.

He headed up to the main deck. He would have to think how he wanted to sail when there was only one of him. He didn't want to run aground before he got where he wanted to go.

Tom enjoyed the feeling of wind on his face. He didn't know where he was going, but sailing away from the crew seemed to be the best thing at the moment. He didn't want them to row their way to him and take him by surprise.

He imagined a quick trip to the bottom of the ocean would be in the offing if they did catch up with him.

He wished he had found a telescope. That would have allowed him to scan the horizon for land to bring the boat close to so he could swim to shore.

He decided that he could climb the main mast to the platform there. That might allow him to see more of the ocean ahead.

He didn't have to worry about steering off course with the locking mechanism holding the wheel true.

He pulled himself up a ladder built into the mast. His legs still bothered him, but he was feeling them again. He reached the platform and stepped from the mast to its floor boards. He walked around. He spotted the island where he had been recovering falling behind him. Ahead was empty ocean.

The only thing he had to do now was figure out which way the Fount was from where he was sailing and adjust course. He could use the wheel lock to stay on course once he had it locked in.

The only problem he had to solve now was how was he going to sail and keep watch on his own. He could drop anchor to nightfall, and then start out when the Fount appeared in the night sky. Then he could sail on course until the sun came up. Then he could take another nap.

He just didn't have enough information on the sailing culture. Pirates could take his boat while he was napping in the middle of the ocean. He could run into an authority who didn't like him.

He needed help, but he had no way of knowing how to recruit the help, or how much he actually needed.

He decided at the very least to take down the black flag flying from his mast. That would prevent anyone from saying he was a pirate. He untied the flag and let it drop in the water. He didn't need it and didn't want people thinking he was ready to attack when he wasn't sure how to fire the cannons he did have below decks.

He took one last look around before descending to the deck. It looked like he was on course. If he ran into any other boat, he could ask directions if he wasn't involved in fighting them off somehow.

He knew he was unlikely to win anything if a boat with a crew came across him. Walking the plank came to mind.

He wondered if he was letting the history of his own planet color his perception of this strange land. He didn't even know how many continents the planet had. He might have stolen the boat out of paranoia.

On the other hand, the sailors might have been coming to cut his throat and take whatever treasure they imagined he had. Taking their stuff felt a lot better than letting them take whatever they thought they could get from him.

Thompson decided he was far enough from the island to get a nap. If the crew could row out to take their boat back, then they were better men than he thought they were. Once the night fell, he could take a bearing and head out again.

The wheel lock would let him stay on course as soon as he took a bearing. Everything else would be the boring drudgery of actual sailing.

He realized he hadn't sailed much at home. He supposed it had been a lack of interest combined with a lack of opportunity. He had spent most of his time just trying to get into the Air Force, and then the pilot training, and then the astronaut training. Sailing had never seemed to come up during that time.

Now here he was trying to make do on a planet that didn't make sense so he could go home if he could rescue the princess. It sounded like something out of a fairy tale to him.

He wondered what would be next on the agenda. He hoped it wasn't a sea monster.

Tom stowed the sail and dropped the anchor. He hoped he felt better about raising it after his nap was over. He settled in to nap next to the helm in case he had to grab the wheel and try to turn the boat from any harm caused by a current.

When he woke up, he would drop the sail, raise the anchor, and set a course for the Fount. Then he would raid the pantry for something he could eat.

He should drop a fishing line, but he decided that he would be sailing for a while. He didn't have to drop a line on the first day.

Tom dreamed of the vortex taking his spacecraft apart. He sat in the seat and watched the parts pull away from the center of mass in a stream. Then it was his turn. He woke up before he fell into the star shaped door.

The day had passed but it wasn't night yet. He decided to check the stores before the Fount appeared to guide him. He could eat on deck while he watched the night sky.

He picked two cans and pulled them from the pantry. He carried them on deck. A search found a knife he could use to open the cans. He punched holes in the cans and quickly ate the contents without trying to figure out what they were. He put the cans down on deck after he was done to raise the sail. He raised the anchor as the sun started its last few inches below the horizon.

He unlocked the wheel lock as the boat began moving again. He turned toward the display of light blasting into the night sky. He set the wheel lock. The boat could sail itself while he cleaned up and tried to feel like normal.

He needed a guide if he wanted to move faster than this. It was too bad he was on an unknown ocean with no way of finding such a guide. Maybe he could find someone when he reached a shore.

He wondered how long that would take. He might be sailing for months trying to find a way to the Fount. It was too bad he didn't have a plane handy when he needed it.

At least the water didn't seem that dangerous to anyone sailing on it.