The travelers had sighted the cove from the sea-a narrow bite into
the land, the first break in the cliff wall which protected the
interior of this continent from the pounding of the ocean. And,
although it was still but midafternoon, Dalgard pointed the
outrigger into the promised shelter, the dip of his steering paddle
swinging in harmony with that wielded by Sssuri in the bow of their
narrow, wave-riding craft. The two voyagers were neither of the
same race nor of the same species, yet they worked together without
words, as if they had established some bond which gave them a
rapport transcending the need for speech.
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