XXI

I had drifted closer to the raft by now and could see the men more clearly.  All were thin and gaunt in appearance, and seemed exhausted with the toil of rowing.  Their clothes were in tatters, soaked with sea water and encrusted with salt.  Some had blood-stained rags wrapped around their heads, arms, or legs.  One of the company lay in the middle of the raft under a soiled canvas tarpaulin, apparently too weak or too ill to move.  Never in my life had I seen such a haggard group of faces.  Despair flickered in their eyes like a dying flame.  The cold, hopeless expressions with which they regarded me struck me to the heart.

“How can this be?” I stammered.  “I already told you – the Firebird directed me this way!  The three ladies provided my needs for the journey.  The Watchers in the Valley told me that he is coming and that he would surely meet me at the rising of the sun!”

“Where is the sign of his coming?” growled one of the gray figures aboard the raft.

Behind him another man laughed bitterly.  “Perhaps he comes for you but not for us,” he said.

Hopelessness flooded in upon me like the wide ocean.  These men are right, I thought.  What they are telling me is nothing new.  I have thought and felt all these same things myself.  Their faces alone are proof enough of what they say.  Where I am going, they have already been and have nothing to show for it.

“Will you take me with you?” I said.  “Will you help me get back to land?”

Again the steersman scowled.  “Things are tight aboard this vessel,” he said.  “Overcrowded already.”

A sudden breath of wind ruffled the ragged sail and caused me to shiver all over beneath his stern gaze.

“Still,” he went on thoughtfully, “What you’ve got, we need.  Take John here,” he added, pointing to the man lying under the tarpaulin.  “That cloak of yours would do him good.”

With that, he uncoiled a length of rope and tossed the end to me across the water.

 *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XX

I had just finished an apple (they seemed the size of melons now) and was scouting the dark waters ahead when I spied another black spot approaching through the murk.  It was not long before I was able to make out its shape, dimly silhouetted against the dull glow in the east.  It appeared to be a log raft. Its square sail hung limp, for there was no wind, and I could hear the muffled sound of oars slapping the wave-tops in the distance.  Not a lamp nor a lantern shone upon it, but I was able to discern the shadowy figures of men moving about the flat deck.  In particular, I could see the man at the steering oar and hear his voice as he shouted out orders to the others.

More out of habit than anything else, for I fully expected to hear the voice of the small gray bird at any moment telling me to “let it pass,” I waved my lamp from side to side above my head and hailed the men on the raft.  To my surprise they saw me and steered in my direction.  They rowed up rather close and hove-to a short distance away.  Their faces appeared strange and ghoulish in the yellow glow of my clay lamp.

“Who are you and what’s your business?” called the steersman, leaning on his steering oar and jutting his huge bony jaw at me over the water.

“I am heading into the sunrise of Christmas morning,” I answered, shading the glare of the lamp with my hand so as to see him better.  “The Firebird brought me this far.  I am seeking him whom the Watchers say is to come.”

A murmur drifted to me over the waves from the dark figures aboard the raft.  The steersman grunted, rubbed his chin with the back of his hand, and looked grim.

“This is no sunrise you’re headed for,” he glowered.  “The sun is running away from you!  That’s the sunset – not the sunrise!  You’re travelling west – not east!”

West!  The thought of it struck me speechless.  What could I say in return?  I could not deny that my own observations seemed to bear out the truth of his words.

“And that’s not all,” he continued.  “It’s not just the sunset you’re headed for – it’s the very end of the world!  If you don’t turn back, you’ll soon fall over the edge!”

“If Leviathan doesn’t get you first!” muttered one of his companions.

“That’s right,” agreed a third.  “That’s why we’re rowing as hard as we can in the opposite direction!”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XIX

I was awakened at last by a voice whispering in my ear:

“Eat.  It is long since you have taken anything, and you must eat if you are to reach your journey’s end.

I obeyed, hardly knowing what I was doing, for my mind was still a blur.  Drawing the basket of apples from the folds of my cloak, I looked inside and found that it still contained seven apples.  But how much larger those apples seemed to have grown!  The basket, too, looked bigger than before.

Without stopping to puzzle over this apparent change in the relative size of things – for I was indeed thoroughly famished – I reached in and took out one of the bright green apples.  But just as I was about to bite into it, I stopped short, arrested by the sight of my own hand.  How small it looked with the great apple in its palm!  I wondered at the skin, so smooth against the smooth skin of the fruit, and marveled at how like the two skins seemed to have become.  This fair, smooth hand was mine without a doubt, and yet it had undergone an unmistakable change.  It seemed the hand of a small child beside the huge apple, which appeared to have grown to the size of a grapefruit.

I ate with great relish.  Again the golden juice refreshed and strengthened me, cooling my lips and tongue, quenching my thirst, satisfying my hunger, and warming me from the inside out.  The glow returned to the wound in my heart and I was comforted.

As was my habit, I would have devoured the apple completely but for a very strange thing that now met my eye.  At its core I saw a bit of paper, rolled up into a scroll, like a note thrust into a bottle by a shipwrecked mariner.  As soon as I unrolled the paper I knew immediately what it was:  the first page of the little book I had read in my room when the walls and ceiling were transformed into reflecting glass.

“Keep this paper with you,” said the voice at my ear.  It was, of course, the voice of the small gray bird.  “Hide it within the folds of your cloak, inside your nightgown, next to your skin.  Do not let go of it.”

I did as the bird said.

On and on I went, then, and just as before time passed without seeming to pass at all.  I knew that it was passing, at least insofar as I understand the meaning of the words, for I continued moving forward, carried by the current which grew ever stronger.  I went through the cycle of watching, sleeping, waking, and eating over and over again, but the light of the approaching sunrise never changed.  It seemed as if the great fire below the horizon was moving away from me at exactly the same rate as I was pursuing.

Meanwhile, the little scrolls of paper continued to appear in the cores of the apples I ate, occasionally at first, then with greater frequency as I continued on my way.  When unrolled, each scroll turned out to be yet another page of the little book.  You will have some idea how long I traveled and how many apples I ate when I say that eventually I had collected all of the pages and had the entire book tucked away inside my clothing and next to my heart.

From time to time I saw things.  As I watched, blotches of darkness on the waters ahead would grow larger and clearer as I moved closer, and then take shape as rocks, small islands, buoys, boats, ships, or the backs of great sea creatures.  In the beginning I grew highly excited at each of these sightings, desperately hoping that each might prove to be my salvation.  But always the voice of the small gray bird would speak to me and say, “Let it pass.”  And so I did.

 * * * * * * * * * *

XVIII

The great ship glowed like the sun itself with lanterns and torches and wondrous crystal lamps.  Her sails were striped with silver and gold and emblazoned in red and white with emblems of the sun and the morning star.  Very tall she stood above the water.  Along her flanks rows of ornately framed and warmly lighted windows opened out from her five lofty decks.

As she drew nearer I could look directly into these windows.  All were hung with curtains of gauzy lace that fluttered delicately in the wind and shimmered like silk reflecting the warm red light within.  Inside I saw the faces of people, laughing, smiling, talking; full, round faces, scrubbed and glowing.  The people were seated at tables laden with fruit, bread, red meat, wine, pastries, cakes, and pies.  I could see the rich clothing they wore, clean and pressed and brightly colored.

As the ship approached a cry burst forth from my cold and desperate heart:  “Help!  Save me!  I’m lost and drifting on the ocean!”  But no one seemed to hear.

As the vessel moved closer, I could clearly see the image of the sunrise embroidered upon the bosom of her cloud-like mainsail.  And now I could also make out that her figurehead was carved in the shape of the eight-legged horse.

This ship sails into the sunrise! I thought.  Her destination and mine are one and the same!  The people on board are loyal to the rider of the eight-legged horse!  Surely this was predestined!  Surely this is my one hope of safety!  I must get aboard somehow!

With that I began waving my lamp in wide arcs over my head and shouting more loudly than before:  “Help!  Take me aboard!  Take me with you to the place of the Rising Sun!”

I kept this up until the ship at length drew up alongside me, so near that she almost ran me down.  My shouts grew louder and more frantic the closer she came, but no one paid the least attention to them.  The eyes of the people who were feasting behind the lighted windows met mine, and I knew that they had seen me.  Some smiled, ever so faintly, then turned back to the warmth of their food and companionship.  One gaily dressed matron even raised her hand in what I thought might be a slight gesture of greeting.  Then she returned to the animated conversation in which she was engaged with a handsome gentleman in black coat and white tie.  After that the ship passed on into the glow on the horizon while I called after her, flailing my arms wildly above my head and kicking up the water with my feet.

The smiling faces were still visible as the gilded vessel drew away, leaving me alone in its wake.  I could make out the ship’s name now, engraved in gold script on the stern:  Sunrise.

At this my deep grief and frustration surged up into boiling anger:  anger at those smooth faces that smiled and smiled until they were lost in the distance.  They went on smiling until they and the whole ship were swallowed up the blur of light on the horizon.  I suppose they smiled until the topmost tip of the mainmast dropped over the edge of the burnished sky.

“They did not – they would not – take me aboard!” I moaned in disbelief.  “They left me outside – outside in the cold, cold sea, lost, alone, and without hope!”

Then, groaning again, I curled myself into a ball, wrapped the cloak around me, and cried myself to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

XVII

To this day it amazes me to recall what the sight of that boat did to me.  I suddenly became aware of my situation in a new way, and my mood and perspective were entirely altered in an instant.  I was adrift on the open sea, caught in the ocean current, cold, alone, lost, helpless, at the point of death!  Why had I not seen it before?  At the thought, the wound in my heart turned cold.

I must get to that boat! I thought.  Waving the lamp above my head, I cried out frantically once again, “Over here!  This way!  Can’t you see me?”

I could see the boat drawing nearer.  But just when it had come close enough for those aboard to hear my cries and see my light, the voice of the small gray bird spoke to me once again.

“Let it pass,” it said.

“Let it pass?” I nearly choked.  “My one and only hope of reaching safety?  My last chance of escaping alive?”

“Hush,” he said in a stern but even softer tone.  “Let the boat pass.  It is not your only hope.  Look – it is moving in the wrong direction!”

“I don’t care about that!” I spluttered.  “I only want – ”

But I did not finish.  Somehow I realized, without knowing why, that I must do as the bird said.  And so, lowering my lamp, I hid its light in the folds of my cloak.  Then I pulled the hood low over my face and watched very quietly as the boat crested a wave, dipped into the trough, and slipped silently past me.  So close did it pass that I could see the faces of the sailors in the lantern’s glow; kind, friendly faces I thought.  A tear came to my eye and slid down my cheek.  I felt certain now that I was utterly lost.

I drifted on.  And as I drifted, it seemed to me that not merely hours, but days and even weeks went by, and still the light on the horizon did not change.

All this while I had nothing to support or sustain me but my cloak, my lamp, and my basket of apples, and these served me amazingly well.  Not only did the cloak prevent me from sinking – it also kept me warm and comfortable despite my being wet through and through, floating as I was up to my neck in the choppy waters.  My little lamp burned small but bright, never once going out or even dimming, for the water seemed to have no power to extinguish it.  What’s more, the oil never ran low though I had no means of replenishing it.  As often as I grew cold and empty, I had only to eat one of the golden apples to be instantly refreshed and warmed from the inside out.  Here, too, was a miracle:  for no matter how many apples I ate, there were always seven remaining in the basket.

On and off I slept – this could not be helped, for as my ordeal dragged on I grew bored as well as weary – and this further confused my sense of the passage of time.  Eventually a pattern developed:  wrapping myself snugly in the cloak, I would doze for a while; upon waking and finding my stomach empty and my heart cold, I would eat one of the golden apples; then, my spirits being revived, I would raise the clay lamp above my head and try to get my bearings, hoping in my heart of hearts for a sight of another boat.

None ever appeared – none, that is, until at last there came a time when I found myself roused from sleep by a great rush as of the cleaving of many waters and saw the glimmer of lights approaching on the water.  In the excitement of the moment I neglected to eat one of the apples, so that when I lifted my lamp and turned to look, it was with a cold and desperate heart that I beheld the sight that met my eyes.

It was a ship ­– a huge, three-masted vessel, gilded and richly bedecked as a treasure galleon.

 * * * * * * * * * **

XVI

Cold indeed was the wound in my heart, yet not so cold as the waters into which I fell.  Against all expectation, I was not plunged into the icy depths to drown; for as I plummeted seaward my cloak of heaven-blue billowed out around me like a parachute, breaking my fall, so that at last I splashed lightly down upon the tops of the waves and floated there like a cork.

As it had caught the air during my fall, so the cloak continued to hold it on the surface of the water, inflating itself like life-raft or a pillow of foam.  Recovering my senses and looking about me, I discovered that my lamp and my basket of apples were close at hand, also floating easily on the face of the water.  I reached for them and drew them into the folds of the cloak, keenly aware somehow that these gifts might yet prove valuable.  Then up and down, this way and that, I bobbed over the crests of the whitecaps, pelted all the while by rain and hail, a strong current driving me along.  I knew nothing of the direction in which I was headed and was absolutely helpless to do anything about it.

Deep though the darkness was, and thick as were the mists, I was able to see a short distance round about me by the light of my little lamp.  More than once I came alarming close to jagged rocks, but never was I dashed upon them, nor could I reach them in order to pull myself out of the water.

After the current had carried me along for a while I suddenly broke out of the mists and the rain and found myself floating along under the stars.  The glow on the western horizon lay directly ahead.  Behind me the luminous blue mountains were already sinking into the fog from which I had just emerged.  It was clear that the tide was carrying me straight out to sea and on into the sunrise of Christmas morning.

Oddly enough, though the time seemed to stretch into hours, that approaching glow never appeared to grow or change in any way.  It was as if the earth or the sun – one or the other – were standing still.  Soon the light of the mountains died away altogether, but the hint of sunrise before me remained constant.  It was just strong enough to keep me apprised of the direction in which I was moving.

Becoming aware that I was ravenously hungry, I reached for the basket and counted the apples.  There were seven.  I took the first one that came to hand and bit into it deeply.

Never had I tasted such an apple!  It was deliciously ripe and crisp.  As I ate, its sweet golden juice ran around and under my tongue and dribbled from the corners of my mouth.  I ate it up completely, core, seeds, and all.  When I had finished I felt indescribably satisfied and warm in spite of the cold water in which I floated.  Immediately the warmth returned to the wound in my heart and I felt my spirits rise.

Suddenly a point of light, small but bright, appeared on the water ahead of me.  As I watched, it grew in intensity.  It was moving towards me.  Soon I could see the yellow glow of lanterns shimmering on the flapping canvas of a tall sail.  It was a boat!  I picked up my lamp and waved it above my head.

“Here!” I cried.  “I’m over here!”

* * * * * * * * * *