Editing The Sea of the Dead (section)

== Setting Sail ==
::''' With a thud, the merchantman slammed into the mooring posts, and the crew scurried to secure the vessel. Kirklees rang his bell three times while he kept a watchful eye, mindful of the need to suspend his vessel before the lures were withdrawn. He'd never had a ship sink at its moorings, but the locals sure as hell wouldn't help them raise it up and clear the deck.

::'''A reply of "look out below!" came down, followed immediately by cables hurled from the dockside cranes. That was sloppy, Kirklees thought, aware of the danger of a swinging cargo cable knocking a precious crewman overboard. He determined to take that up with the harbormaster as soon he was back on land.

::'''"She's secure, sir." cried the bosun.
::'''"Very good, lets hook up the basket then, and see what we can get out of these savages." A night away from the constant roar of the sea would be enough.'''

Among these isolated communities, brave souls "sail" the zombie sea by hanging meat on several booms extending from the boat, and essentially crowd-surfing their way forward. These flat-bottomed and high-sided barges have offer great risks for their crew, but also great profits from isolated communities desperate for the goods they provide. Only an master mariner and crew have the skill to trim the meat "sails" that steer and propel the boat without sucking the sea out from under it. Some larger and more sturdily-built vessels have emergency wheels and wooden anchor-shafts that can be dropped at a moments notice to support the vessel in rough seas, and some even have crude safety cages in case of disaster. 

There are two terrors that haunt even the most experienced crews, the first of which is becoming becalmed; a crew that runs out of livestock must find meat somewhere. They face the hard choice of either trying to secure flesh from the sea itself (which is dangerous at the best of times) but this is unappetizing to the sea, and means slow travel. Otherwise, they must draw lots and risk joining the ancestors from their wounds.More than one vessel has returned with missing limbs or even missing crew-members and a grim oath of silence. 

The second is a simpler yet more atavistic fear. The seas are littered with the hulks of vessels whose crews were too inexperienced, too careless, or simply too unlucky to reach their intended destination. The wreckage of their once-sturdy hulls linger, serving both as a serious navigational hazard and as silent witness to the last, brutal moments of their crews.