The conversation with her father came back to her. There will be a time... It had sounded so easy at home. What had he said at the end? Stay the course.
Would Father continue his work if it had been me? Cal sat up in her bunk. He would; she'd want him to. Grief was all very well, but moping in her berth was no fit memorial for Sam.
Cal got up and dressed with extra care. She replaced the water damaged sketchbook, but left the knife in the satchel. Time to get to work.
The deck hummed with activity. Captain Cully had determined the water was safe enough for the boats, but no more sounding ropes. They filled sample jars with fish, crabs and other things Cal couldn't identify. Shells and bones were cleaned and packed away, skins dried before they too were stowed below deck. Cal found a place out of the way and began recording the activity in her sketchbook.