They sat becalmed for many days, the sea as still as gelatin around them.
"Please," the sailors begged. "We don't want to die."
Taku consulted with the Wisest Stone. "There is a way," he said at last, "but it is ugly."
"Tell us! On our own heads be it."
Taku handed over his obsidian knife. "Climb up the mast. Hold this overhead. Then whistle, so." He hummed a few notes that quavered eerily.
The bravest soldier followed Taku's instructions, and soon the sails were full of good, strong wind. Taku shook his head when they offered him his knife back.
Vossler on Soaping and Writing
20 hours ago