This ended up taking up far more of the year than Dag had counted on. Still, by the time the grain was ready to be harvested, they had added housing for everyone that would be staying in the village. Those who would be moved out to outposts didn’t have more than tents yet, but all found they really appreciated a soak in the baths after a long day of work, even if all they had to sleep in was a tent.

◆◆◆

Outposts

It was already past high summer when the first settlers moved up to the limestone outpost. Trips had been sent that way to gather enough lime for mortar to build the additional housing in the village, but Dag didn’t move permanent residents up until the clan’s main settlement had been well established. Then, he took up not just those who would quarry the needed limestone, but also a large work crew to help build housing for them.

In addition, he started them quarrying large blocks to build a causeway out into the ocean itself. The idea was to get out past the spot where the waves broke and made shipping difficult. Trying to move large amounts of stone by travois, or even ox carts would be problematic at best. Likewise, canals were completely impractical in the loose beach sand on the coast. So, the plan was to load boats out past the roughest waves, and use them to haul the materials down to the village where they could be processed into usable concrete. The village’s access to water wheels making it the ideal place for crushing the slaked stone into powder.

Dag knew that this would mean digging another canal and building another water wheel, but as he didn’t have a boat big enough to haul more than a couple of hundred pounds of gravel yet, and he would need a large supply of tar to make those boats, he figured he would have time. In his mind, if he had both outposts turning out an ongoing supply in three years, he would consider it a victory.

To make that goal more than a pipe dream, he needed to have access to the tar as well. The positioning of the tar pits was far less ideal than the limestone quarry. As the tar pits were nearly twenty miles from the river bank, and three days further upriver of the Gathering location. A twenty mile long canal in a floodplain was not going to happen. This left only ox cart or travois.

Fortunately, as Dag had suspected, there were more useful items than just the tar at the location. The greatest of these was below a six foot thick skin of tar, pools of liquid crude oil were easily accessed. Getting it back to the village was just a matter of hauling the clay pots filled with the stuff all the way back to the river, where it could be floated downstream the rest of the way.

Of course, that presupposed a large supply of clay pots, which would have to be made. Though many would have needed to be made anyway, as the one thing completely lacking in the region of the tar pits was a source of fresh water. That meant hauling in water on the same ox carts that would be hauling out oil and tar. It meant that this outpost, as vital as it was, would be a fairly miserable place to live, unlike the limestone quarry, and the work would be dirty and even possibly dangerous. Not that quarrying large stone blocks could be considered ‘safe’, especially with the tools at their disposal.

Dag found the situation frustrating. In a society with access to money, he could simply offer those who chose to work in the harsher environment more pay to compensate for the difficulty of the job. They were not in such a society though, and there were few enough consumer goods to motivate them to stay at a hardship post even if they had money. So, he was forced to set up rotating crews.

One crew did three months either at the tar pits, limestone quarry, lumber camp, or transporting all of these back to the village. Then they would rotate out to spend time back in the luxuries that the village had to offer. Dag felt his heart sink. Even with all of the additional people, he found himself still spread thin for the work. The more things he found to build his civilization, the more tangled and snarled the logistics become.

This realization had him hard. By the time the winter storms blew in, everyone had found or been found for them a job of helping the clan take the next step into a civilized life. That didn’t mean anyone found the time pleasant.

Cooped up inside for weeks of frequent rain left very few of them in good spirits. Then, having to rotate out to relieve those who had been stuck out at the outposts. He barely avoided mutiny two weeks in. Everyone’s needs were being met, but it was coming at a cost, and that cost was exhaustion.

By the time they were getting ready for the Gathering again, everyone was more than happy to go out on a hunt and live in the outdoors again. No one said it, but no one missed sleeping outside with only a few furs on the ground for comfort, and maybe a spot in a tent, if you were lucky. In the beginning, even as the routs between locations opened up. Now if he can just get them all producing in a reasonable way.

All of these nightmares in getting the civilization established, made Dag understand exactly why there are plenty of people who avoid leadership roles.

Managing Changes

Leadership

Dag found that he had a basic command crew. Jack and Axel had been managing things for a while, and with the exception of having to overcome their youth in the eyes of the newest clan members, had been doing an admirable job. Adding Bren and Hendden to the mix had introduced new issues as well. While the two men could intellectually admit that Jack and Axel were their equal, the emotional pride factor took a lot longer to adapt. The two men liked the boys and respected what they could do, but still tended to treat them like little brothers.

Most of the time, this wasn’t a real issue. Axel having taken not one mate but two and having a daughter made him easier for the older men to accept. Jack still struggled. It wasn’t that he hadn’t taken women into his bed, but he hadn’t settled on any of them, and he had no children. The men tended to see this as an immature trait, and so in small ways that shaded their opinion of him. Dag considered bringing it up with the boy, but who was he to put additional pressure on him?

Dag set the men up in rotating schedules. Swapping out not only the four lieutenants but also the men under them. They didn’t take intact crews from one job to the other. Dag didn’t say anything to them about this, but he wanted all the men to get used to taking direction from any of them. More than that, he didn’t want any small unit loyalty building up that could encourage a power base from which to spark civil disorder. Otherwise, when John came of age, he might find himself having to fight to be chief against older and more experienced men. Dag hoped that he would live long enough to settle the question of succession, but if this world had taught him anything, it was that there were no guarantees.

As things sat, they had four primary outposts. Lumber at the Gathering site, oil and pitch from the tar pits, stone from the limestone quarries, and the river shipping dock up by the head of the canal, he also had four lieutenants, but that left no one to give them any rest back in the village. Dag knew that this was a good way of burning people out and causing resentment as well. He brought this up to the four in one of their rare meetings. As it was, he would let the stonecutters and the tar workers come home every other week. The lumber and shipping leadership posts being the only two that were continuously manned. They were also the two that could most easily spare a leader for a few days.

When he had them all in one place, he simply asked, “You four have done an amazing job so far. As I see it though, you’re not getting much down time for yourself. Do you have men you think would be good leaders that we could carve out of the ranks to take over in the weeks you’re back in town?”

All of them had men that they put forward, and Dag had to stop them. “Look, I understand that these may be men who led hunts with you in the past, or are friends of yours... I need you to think beyond that. I need the names for men who could work well with any of you and really handle the crews at the various outpost sites. So, think of the men you all just put forward so quickly. How many of them are really who you would want in charge if you had to work under them?”

That quieted the room quickly. Eventually, Bren said, “I have one. He has a good head on his shoulders, and I never have to tell him what needs doing. He just does it.”

Ajax nodded, “You’re thinking of Marl.”

Bren nodded, and the others all nodded their agreement. Dag felt a bit better when they were all talking about the same one as being worthy. Jack spoke up. “Victor could do it.”

Hendden made a face, “Victor is a good boy, but he’s even younger than Jack here. If someone didn’t want to follow his orders, they could just knock him aside. At least Jack here would put an arrow in him afterward. Victor just doesn’t have... men won’t follow him.”

Bren grunted, “I don’t think they would either. Five years from now, maybe even as little as three, that would be a whole different story... but for now?”

Ajax looked apologetically at Jack, “I have to agree with Bren. You know how hard it has been for them to follow us. Can you really see Victor in an argument with Brom, or one of his ilk?”

Jack frowned, “Fine, I see your point, but then who?”

There were more frowns and a long silence before Ajax said, “What about Oram?”

There were pained faces all around, “Oram means well, but he’s just a little... slow.” Hendden said as diplomatically as he could.

Bren squinted, “I know it isn’t exactly how you were wanting to do it, but Oram could handle the river post. He would be pretty useless at anything more technical, but he could handle that. Well, I think he could.”

Dag looked at them, “Is there no one else?”

Hendden shrugged, “He’s not a bad option, as long as the job dosen’t make him deal with changing conditions much. If he’s out by the river, then whoever is having their week in town here could rush out in an emergency.”

The others were already nodding their agreement with Hendden’s assessment. Dag let out a long sigh, “Well, it is the closest place, and like you said, I or one of the folks on leave could hurry there in a pinch... Fine. Marl and Oram will have to do. Keep your eyes open for talent. I want options if we find other resources that we need to lock down.”

◆◆◆

Age Of Sail

Dag only had a small crew left at the castle after sending everyone off to work all of the outposts. So, to keep functioning himself, he built a scaffolding system over a wide ditch that he had the ladies help him dig out of the beach. With whole logs being floated down the river, he was able to make these strong enough to support actual weight.

He set the women to work sewing large pontoons out of hide, and fashioning a large sail from the wool felt. It was far from the ideal materials or design, but with a little tar on the pontoons inside and out, Dag soon had a servicable, if very odd-looking pontoon barge with a single mast. He dreaded getting it out past the breakers, but he knew if he were going to transport any serious quantity of stone the distance it needed to go, that this was his only option.

If only he had a saw, he thought bitterly, he could have done this job right, even without nails. Drilling and pegging each log in the frame in to place had been chore enough. However, he didn’t stop there. With new wet rawhide, he bound each of the joints as well, and liberally coated them with pitch after they were dry and tight. It wasn’t as good as heavy bolts, but needs must when the devil is driving.

His first attempt capsized his barge and took him a full day to get right side up, and another full day to affix a new mast. The second trip he was more careful about how he hit the waves, and made it through with no trouble. Of course, learning to sail was a whole other issue. Half the time, the wind was pushing him in the wrong direction. Still, he eventually figured it out after two weeks of trial and error. Turning knowledge into experience was becoming his primary task every day. Still, by the end of three weeks, he was able to putter around the beach pretty confidently. Often he would need to go farther out to sea than he wanted, and zigzag back up the coast. He thought that the sailers back in his own time called it tacking against the wind, but knowing it could be done and figuring out how to do it, were two totally different things. Still, he figured it out, and had the blisters and rope burns on his hands to prove it.

By the time he docked at the end of the pier that they had built up by the stone quarry, everyone was waiting for him with big grins. Ajax even admitted, “I didn’t think you could do it boss, but I’m very happy to see you. We’ve stopped running travois back in anticipation of moving it all on the barge. Can you really make the stone float?”

Dag laughed, “We’re not making the stone float. It is called buoyancy and has to do with water displacement. When you’re back at the castle, if you want, I will show you how to figure it all out. For now, how about just getting me loaded up? Lavern wants me home in a couple of days. The twins are driving her up a wall.”

Ajax just nodded and laughed along. “I think Shirley is expecting again.”

Dag raised an eyebrow, “You think?”

Ajax shrugged, “Sick the morning I left to come up here, but she says she thinks it was something she ate. I’d say it was more something she didn’t.” He grinned at Dag, and as Dag was laughing, he thought of what a crazy world it was that a man as young as Ajax would make that joke to him, much less understand it. Then again, Ajax was already shouldering man sized obligations, and even given the better conditions Dag’s improvements were bringing, wasn’t likely to live much past his forties. Dag figured he would probably lose two to three decades, even having all of the vaccinations and good medical care up until he came here. Ajax had none of that. He wished there was a way to fight against that inevitability but short of a modern industrial base, there wasn’t.

By the time he was loaded, he had eaten and check in on the operations up here. It wasn’t the ‘easy’ life of the village, but given another couple of years’ work, it could well be the most comfortable of the outposts, with only the fortress at the Gathering spot rivaling it. It was certainly better than the dirty, dry, hell hole of the tar pits.

The additional weight made it sail sluggish, but Dag was happy not to be tossed around by the wind and waves. Sailing back was a lot easier than sailing here had been. At least in this direction, the prevailing winds were helping rather than hindering. He knew that he would need to soon teach someone how to take over this route or he would spend all of his time on the sea. He had no idea who he could get to handle it. Even with their population closing in on two hundred souls, he was still shorthanded. As much because so many of the older men were stuck in a mindset that had difficulty adjusting, and so many of the younger boys were just not big enough yet.

While time would fix this problem, until it did, he found himself in a bind. He couldn’t just wait for time to cure his ills, or he would be too old himself to do all of the things he wanted to do for his people. John would be able to read what he wrote down for him, and Dag spent time each evening writing down what he knew, but if he didn’t explain something well enough, he knew it would be lost for decades, maybe even centuries, until someone rediscovered it. He knew it was a pressure that he shouldn’t put on himself, but he couldn’t figure out who else should take it. After all, it all began and ended with him, until he could have enough trained up to take over the efforts.