0007 Let's go to France.

 Everything is in order at the Artis Chamber of Commerce.

 First of all, all kinds of nautical paraphernalia, from charts to needles and threads for mending sails, were available, and basically Lorraine billed for them and Lake paid for them.

 Reich had no money, and the charts were the poorest bookstore oil-printed editions, with crude printing, blurred images, and a limited number of seven or eight large ports labeled along the Isthmus.

 Lorraine's final work in his cartography class at sea school was the 1773 edition of the Military Channel Chart, and now that he had the coastline and latitude and longitude as a reference, it only took him a day and a half to perfect the chart.

 The second is the Chamber's shareholding.

 After removing the expenditure on an appliance, Lake's share capital was still thirty gold pounds, and at the time of his admission Lorraine said he would enter with thirteen shillings, but Lake forfeited it, and instead gifted Lorraine a dry share of ten per cent. in the form of technology.

 So Lorraine got promoted.

 He is now a partner in the Chamber of Commerce and is also the Vice President.

 Last but not least, the destination of the first flight.

 Lek inquired from the fixer that there was a shipment of black goods porcelain going out of the black port of Cherbourg in France, good quality and cheap, and Lorraine's supplemental charts happened to have the black port located in it.

 After some heated discussions, the Chamber of Commerce executives unanimously decided to just go to Cherbourg.

 Having thus been in port for seven days in full preparation, the Artis Beauty, laden with fresh vegetables from Plymouth, duly set sail on a fine, breezy day.

 Lorraine locked the rudder with a click, took a step and darted to the mainmast, tugging on the halyard and swinging up to the crossbar.

 "Raise the anchor!"

 He shouted, and Lek, wearing a life preserver, turned the winch with all his might. The long chain clattered to the surface, the sharp anchor hook glinting in the rising sun.

 Lorraine smiled and pulled off her hood, letting the bright red square flutter in the wind.

 "Wind east-northeast, light breeze, three knots!"

 He leapt from the crossbar, dropped the halyard, and bared his head to untie the triangular bow sail.

 Bow sails bulging, the Atis Beauty stepped on the waves and rocked slowly away from the shore.

 Lorraine secured the bowsprit, ran back to the helm, lifted her hand to loosen the catch, and tightened her grip on the handwheel.

 "Captain, give the order!"

 Trembling with excitement, Lek held onto the winch and yelled up to the sky, "Target Cherbourg! Attis Beauty! Set the sails! Set sail!"

 ...

 The vast sea is so vast that you can't see land, and all you can see is all colors of blue, dark blue, light blue, with the occasional big fish leaping out of the water and flopping around, shattering the blue.

 The sky was also blue, blue and cloudless.

 A few seagulls quacked and flew at ease in the sunlight, their eyes reflecting the sea.

 There was a fat Kirk-type merchant ship drifting lazily out to sea, flat and slow against the wind.

 Lorraine sat on the bow of the ship with her legs bent, holding the crossbar of the bowsprit with one hand and grasping a quill with the other, comparing it to the charts and compass, writing and drawing in her book from time to time.

 They've had a lot of bad luck with all the headwinds in the last few days.

 The shortcomings of the Kirk type were revealed in such weather, and Lorraine could not use the transom sail, maintaining a basic speed of 0.5 to 1 knot with only a small triangular bowsprit.

 At this rate, it will take three days to reach Cherbourg ...

 It's not a big problem to sail for a few more days, but the ship is full of fresh vegetables, and if it floats to Cherbourg like this, won't the vegetables turn into wilted vegetables?

 How can I make the boat go faster?

 Lorraine pondered.

 He was lost in thought when a harsh and low voice suddenly came to his ears.

 "Vomit!"

 With his thoughts interrupted, Lorraine could only put his pen down helplessly and grumble at Lek, "Sir, you're disturbing me."

 Lake sat leaning against the mainmast with a large wooden barrel in his arms, his face like gold paper.

 He laughed miserably, "Little Lorraine, get used to it. Young people just have to concentrate in a noisy environment to ... vomit!"

 Lorraine rolled her eyes and flicked the bow sail slightly with the wind, "Didn't I give you advice? Go to the cabin and vomit, if you're going to get dirty, you'll get a dirty piece, at least you won't dirty the deck."

 "But the cabin ... vomited ... the cabin smelled bad and it was shaking even worse. I think that I might die ... vomit ... at sea."

 "Every sea cadet knows he's going to die at sea, it's not worth bragging about."

 "I swear to God, it's a curse ... vomit ... curse, not a boast."

 Lorraine shrugged and asked suspiciously, "Sir, you are a tanner, or a good one. I can't for the life of me figure out why you came aboard."

 "Because ... vomit!"

 After a lot of hard work, Lorraine finally asked for clarification before Lek snapped.

 Lake was a good tanner and, as he said, the Artis tannery survived in Plymouth for three generations and at one time was the industry standard for good leather in Devon.

 However steam engine workshops appeared.

 A large merchant bought three steam engines in Plymouth to replace some of the manpower and opened a large tannery.

 It is true that machine tanning is not as soft and gentle as leather made by human nitrate, but it is soft and gentle enough, and far cheaper.

 The Lake family's tannery was hit hard and business was dismal. In order to maintain business, he owed a huge debt of fifty pounds for three years and was only one step away from bankruptcy.

 Just when he was at a loss, God pushed a window open for him.

 His dear second cousin aunt had gone to report to God, leaving him a great fortune in her will, the Atis Beauty.

 The standard Kirk model cost five hundred pounds to build, and the Beauty was semi-old and marketed for about three hundred pounds.

 He is faced with two choices, sell the boat and save the tannery, or sell the tannery and fight for a different future in a whole new field.

 Lake bravely chose the latter.

 He set off his tannery against the steam-works for twenty pounds, and mortgaged the family's patrimony at the gentleman's, fifteen pounds.

 He took the thirty-five pounds out of his comfort zone to the unfamiliar port of Soto, and a bit of chance eventually brought him and Lorraine together.

 Hearing this, Lorraine couldn't help but smile bitterly, "So sir, you're throwing your weight around now. What if this trip is bloodless?"

 "What else can ... vomit ... do?" Lake wiped his mouth and took a few breaths of air, "If I can't make any money, I'll have to sell the Beauty. Pierce is still at home, and I ... vomit ... I'm a useless father, but I can't leave my eight year old sleeping on the streets with no food or clothing."

 Lorraine exclaimed, "You actually have a son? Where is the wife?"

 "Dead ... vomit ... dead. Pierce and I were dependent on each other and there was no third person in the house."

 "You at least have your son." Lorraine walked over and gently patted Lek's back, "Even if it's for his sake, you should adapt to life at sea. Trust me, this trip won't be bloodless."

 His blessing had only just fallen when a cool breeze suddenly blew from the sea.

 He straightened up in surprise and pulled off his hood as soon as he could.

 The bright red square scarf danced as a genie in his hand, hunting against the gale.

 Lorraine muttered, "Winds southeast-south, force five, moderate?"

 "Vomit!"

 Chagrined, Lorraine raised her foot and kicked at the life preserver.

 Lek's obese body swayed and looked up pitifully, "Little Lorraine, the boat seems to be ... vomiting ... swaying more ... "

 "Because your God cheated again."

 "Eh?"

 "Cheating, sir." Lorraine took a deep breath of the cleansing sea air, "If you would honestly go to your cabin and disgust yourself right now instead of getting in the way here ... days without nightfall, you'll see the coastline of Cherbourg!"

 "Eh!"

 Reich crawled toward the transom cabin with his hands and feet dragging the barrels, and while this was going on, Lorraine flew to stow the bowsprit, unhooked the mainmast halyard again, and set and hoisted the sails.

 The huge square cross-sail went up, rising to the top and drumming like a full moon!

 He yelled into the wind, "Welcome to the wind! Full sail! Nyold, step up ... send us to France!"