The Days of Peleg

by Jon Saboe

  “This says they might not release him. The reverse is that they will—but that is obviously not true.”

  “I’m just saying what Kupé told me under his breath.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “Well,” said Peleg. “His message carried no information other than its reference to this first note. There is no way he could know what this note said, so there is no way he could lie, even if he wanted to.”

  A few other men had gathered around the note.

  “The message was ‘Reverse the message’, right?” It was Lugalkitun, whose duties as Chief Cook had brought him the undying friendship of Serug. “Perhaps it is more cryptic than meets the eye?”

  He began to read the note, reading the words backwards.

  Now danger immediate any in not am I

  Me release to reluctant become may captors my, however

  Without or within from assistance need may I

  Go can he where knows he Serug tell

  Nothing seemed to present itself, and a few began reversing letters, or attempting some other kind of acrostic.

  “Wait!” Serug entered, pushing through the men with his typical youthful lack of decorum. “Reverse the lines, too. Just read the first words. Go – without – me - now.”

  Phaxâd turned to Peleg. “What exactly did your student say?”

  “He said, ‘Reverse the message’ and ‘not to worry.’”

  Phaxâd thought for a moment, then said, “There will be no negotiating. If we give in to these demands, there may be others.”

  He paused.

  “We shall do exactly as Thaxad requests.”

  A low murmur of protest began to well up, but the Captain raised his hand.

  “They do not recognize the value we place on our wives. They also seem to think that no one but our Thaxad has any chemical and other scientific training. And finally, they threaten our very mission.”

  He turned to Peleg.

  “Chief Peleg, collect your equipment from the beach. Anyone else who has supplies or other equipment must retrieve them immediately.”

  He looked up at his men. “They believe it impossible that we can leave without Thaxad. Therefore, we shall do the impossible. We shall pull up anchor tonight and be gone before morning. It is taboo for these islanders to leave their island, and they have neither the means or will to pursue us.”

  He looked around. “Make your moving discreet. We don’t want our guards to discern our plans.”

  It was an order, but the men were stunned. The captain would never leave anyone behind. However, since Thaxad had agreed, that somehow made it acceptable; but it was still very alarming.

  Just before sunrise, the Urbat lifted anchor and silently pulled away. Captain Phaxâd had ordered a full compliment of rowers to increase the speed, but within a few minutes, a loud cry was heard from the receding beach.

  An alert sentry had seen the ship leaving in the moonlight and he alerted others. A small volley of flaming arrows came flying towards the ship, but fell harmlessly into the sea, lacking the range needed to reach the fleeing Urbat.

  He was now Sar of all he surveyed, and there were now hundreds of workers, busy rebuilding his old city. Soon they would also make a fine army.

  It was a shame that much of the architecture and engineering had disappeared during the Great Awakening. The confusion and rioting that had occurred at that time destroyed much of the writings and even those that were left were often untranslatable.

  The rebuilding of his ziggurat was coming along nicely, but he was afraid it would never reach the heights of his old one. The workers simply lacked the engineering knowledge.

  Someday, when his reign was re-established, he would turn his attention to the Gutians—the treacherous bands of political insurgents and religious terrorists who had undermined his prior reign. He had imprisoned them, but they had escaped his stockades and work camps during the chaos at that time. These sub-humans had fled to the hills of the far west and were rumored to live there in caves like animals.

  It would be fun to flush them out of hiding and exterminate them for good.

  Chapter 16

  Escape

  “One man’s magic is another man’s science. Gravity itself is supernatural—touching nothing yet influencing everything.”

  T he sentries assigned to guard the ship rushed back to the settlement to report its departure.

  Halfway there, they ran into another group of men who were searching the jungle in the dark. They were thrashing through the underbrush with long knives and had been looking for the tall one since nightfall.

  Their prisoner had escaped. He had been tied and confined to his hut, but it was now burned to the ground with no sign of a body. The guard assigned to him had a badly burned face, claiming that the tall one had magically blinded him with a puff of fiery breath and then disappeared in a cloud of pungent smoke.

  The sentries were confident. No one had come near the beach, and they had seen every man that had boarded the vessel. It was an absolute certainty that the tall one had not made it to the ship. He was sure to be hiding somewhere in the jungle and would be found eventually. Besides, his only means of escape had just left.

  Later, Kupé was troubled as he reflected on how the light of Mara’ma seemed to aid the unbelievers in their flight.

  The Urbat was finally underway, and sadness at the loss of one of their shipmates was partially relieved by the joy of being on the open sea again.

  Also, the revelation that there was a large landmass to the east dispelled one of the major concerns of this mission—the concern of whether they would find land and supplies, or sail on endless waters until their reserves expired.

  Peleg finished his sunrise measurements and retired to his quarters, glad to be heading back on course. It was nice to be a Chief and have his own cabin. There were a few small cabins crowded with three or four beds, but most of the crew took turns sleeping in hammocks suspended behind the rowing docks.

  He curled up on his mat and prepared to sleep. He had been up all night, and hoped to sleep until noon, but his thoughts were troubled by his last images of Kupé, and, of course, the loss of Thaxad. Ultimately, their differing perspectives had been over the best basis for morality—science or faith. In Peleg’s mind, both were becoming more and more subjective. He wondered if Kupé was also troubled by the paradox.

  He was awakened violently by a pounding at the door.

  “Peleg! Get up!” It was Serug’s voice. “I have to show you something!”

  His urgency was exceeded only by his intolerable timing. There was nothing worse than being wakened just as one was falling asleep. He began to envision extremely painful things he could do to Serug as he drifted back to sleep.

  He was suddenly awakened again as Serug entered the cabin.

  “Come on,” he insisted. “Follow me!”

  “Serug,” he asked with weary reflection. “How many death threats have you received since this voyage began?”

  Peleg lifted himself from his bed and pulled on his sandals. He groggily followed Serug across the sunlit deck as he headed towards the forecastle.

  “This had better not have anything to do with those birds of yours—or some new way to prepare them.”

  Serug turned and grinned. He said nothing and continued leading. Just before arriving at the galley, he reached for the door to Thaxad’s cabin.

  “We can’t go in there!” Peleg protested. “Don’t you have any respect?”

  “It’s all right,” he nodded. “Look in here.”

  He opened the door, then stepped aside so that Peleg could enter.

  Peleg slowly entered the room, unsure as to what Serug was up to. He scanned the room, his eyes adjusting to the reduced light. Then he realized what Serug wanted him to see. His mouth dropped in astonishment.

  Seated next to Thaxad’s charts and scrolls was Thaxad himself! He was bent over his workbench, apparently painting something with great detail.
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  “Please close the door,” he stated, nonchalantly. “The breeze is blowing my copper filings around.”

  Serug closed the door while Peleg gaped. Finally he said, “But I thought that you, well…”

  Thaxad looked up and stared. “That I what?”

  Peleg tried again. “You weren’t on the ship when we left!”

  “You are correct.” Thaxad turned back to his desk.

  Peleg moved over to him, now thoroughly irritated.

  “You have to let us know how you got here! I mean, we thought we had been forced to leave you!”

  Thaxad thought for a bit, then finally acquiesced.

  “If you must know, I’ve been with you the entire time.”

  Thoroughly exasperated, Peleg said, “Enough evasion. Give us the details.”

  Thaxad turned on his stool and began. From Serug’s grin, it was obvious he had already heard the account.

  “They took me to all of their meetings to keep an eye on me, and I understood a great deal more than I let on. When it became clear that I was held hostage, I knew they would eventually deliver their ultimatum.

  “They had secured me in a hut right next to one of their old outdoor latrines that had not been used for a great while. I was guarded by one man, and I was expected to use this abandoned ‘facility’. After a few trips, I was allowed to go without any supervision.”

  He looked up with excitement in his eyes. Peleg had never seen him enthusiastic about anything.

  “The latrine was a wonderful find, as I was able to dig down through the moldy layers of human excrement for excellent samples of dry, earthy, saltpeter!”

  Peleg was completely revolted, and his expression displayed doubts about Thaxad’s sanity.

  “I was able to collect small quantities in my hut, and I ground my samples carefully with a small improvised mortar and pestle.

  “I also collected bits of charcoal from the morning fires after they died and brought them back. I ground this to powder, also, and kept it in a safe place.”

  Peleg was utterly confused. He could not conceive of any scenario that made use of these ingredients. He opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by Thaxad’s hand.

  “Chief Peleg,” he demanded. “What is the final ingredient I needed?”

  Peleg was stunned. “How could I possibly know…?”

  Serug interrupted. “Sulfur!” He nodded like a schoolboy at Thaxad. “Sulfur, right?”

  “Yes, Master Serug,” he nodded politely. He turned to Peleg. “Where might someone find sulfur on a volcanic island?”

  “Well, from brimstone embedded in old vents. But I don’t see…”

  “No, of course not.”

  Thaxad continued, but with a faraway look in his eyes.

  “I just love sulfur. So many interesting properties… Fire, paint, medicine—not to mention its brilliant vibrant color.”

  He re-focused.

  “Anyway, I started collecting small nuggets of solidified brimstone the second I got to this island. I happened to have some on me in my day-pouch when I was detained.”

  He spoke quickly, now, using some words that Peleg didn’t know and had to guess their meaning.

  “I finely ground the saltpeter, charcoal, and brimstone (but not together, for obvious reasons) and kept them hidden in my hut.

  “I made a mixture of seventy-five percent nitrate, fifteen percent carbon, and ten percent sulfur. I mixed this with just enough urine until I had a fine, doughy consistency. (Urine is just full of oxygen!).

  “I placed my remaining sulfur and charcoal in small bags made from pieces of cloth torn from my cloak. I tied the ends shut with blades of grass and waited.

  “I hoped that Kupé would deliver the instructions on re-working my message so that Captain Phaxâd would know to leave without me. On the day when they returned from delivering their demands, I made my move. On the next day they would go to the Urbat for Utebbibassu, and I knew that Captain Phaxâd would be long gone.”

  Thaxad looked up at the ceiling as if he were finished with his narrative. After a few moments, the impatient Peleg was forced to respond.

  “And then what did you do?”

  “That night I set fire to my hut.”

  Thaxad looked into Peleg’s eyes, demonstrating a sense of drama that no one would have ever suspected. When Peleg said nothing, indicating he should proceed, he continued.

  “I always keep a few phosphor sticks in my pouch,” he confided. “There’s a reason for carrying around ground up animal bones. Phosphorite, you know.”

  He resumed his story.

  “I ignited a small torch and burned off the ropes which tied my wrists.” He held up his hands, showing the evidence of second-degree burns. “I then torched my hut and began yelling. Moments later, my guard entered the room, and I blew a handful of my mixture into his face, holding my torch between us.

  “The mixture passed through the flames, and by the time they reached him, his head was engulfed in a cloud of sparkling, burning smoke which had the added advantage of smelling bad.”

  Thaxad almost smiled.

  “He collapsed on the ground with a howl, and I gathered my small sulfur/charcoal sacks and lit them one at a time, tossing them in the direction of the Urbat.

  “The other men were now approaching, and I hid in the trees behind my burning hut in the opposite direction. The men saw my prison, which was now was fully engulfed, and then took off to the north, following the smoking trail from my burning sacks.

  “I waited until the camp was empty, then I made my way westward along the southern coastline, then turned inland to the northwest until I arrived near the base of their special mountain.” He looked around, daring Peleg to remind him that he had traversed the forbidden area a second time. When no protest was forthcoming, he continued.

  “Eventually I reached the western coast (near where we first landed) and then made my way northward. The full moon made travel very easy. By the time I reached the Urbat, it was just before midnight.” He looked around. “I sincerely hoped that this wasn’t the time the Captain had planned to leave.”

  “How did you make it to the ship?” Peleg asked. “The beach was surrounded by their sentries and they were observing the ship constantly.”

  Thaxad nodded patiently. “I swam, of course. I entered the water long before I had reached the sentries. It was then a simple matter of submerging and swimming out to the far side of the ship. I climbed the sides quietly, grasping a rowing shelf with my toes, then climbed into the port dinghy where I remained in hiding. I didn’t want to alarm anyone, since the islanders might have overheard the commotion.” He looked over at Serug. “They shoot flaming arrows, you know.”

  Serug nodded. “Yes, we saw them as we left. They would have easily ignited the ship if we were still in range.”

  The Mentor continued.

  “After we were well underway, I climbed the rest of the way and crept into my cabin where I fell asleep.” He looked directly at Peleg. “I was very tired.

  “I slept soundly until I was suddenly wakened by this scoundrel as he was rifling through my belongs, hoping to abscond with anything that his lost shipmate would no longer need.” He glared at Serug with disdain.

  “I figured that’s what your note meant,” Serug retorted. “You told me ‘I knew where I could go’.” He smiled as if that justified digging through Thaxad’s belongings.

  “You know where you can go,” Thaxad responded gruffly.

  “I figured I should get to work on my studies and I thought your writings were a good place to start,” Serug insisted with the sameinnocent grin.

  “You don’t even understand Minoan,” Thaxad snarled.

  Peleg interrupted their friendly quarrel.

  “Who else knows you’re here?”

  “I do,” came a voice through the doorway. Captain Phaxâd entered the room which was now becoming very crowded.

  “Welcome back, Castor Thaxad,” he greeted. “It’s
good to have my Chief Chemist back on board.”

  “Captain,” said Peleg. “You don’t seem to be surprised to see him.”

  The captain laughed. “I would be more surprised not to see him. We’ve done a great deal of exploring around the Great Sea, and he always manages to get out of the scrapes he invariably gets into.” He addressed the Mentor.

  “I waited until the last possible moment. When we left, I saw that you weren’t in your cabin, but I figured you might find some way to signal us. I watched the island for a possible signal, then I checked your cabin again.”

  He grinned at the others.

  “Nobody snores like a Mentor,” he declared.

  “If you would all leave my cabin so I can get some work done, I would greatly appreciate it,” Thaxad growled. “I seem to have fallen behind in my research these last few months.”

  “I can’t imagine whose fault that is,” said Phaxâd. “I still haven’t decided how you should be disciplined for your insubordination.” He looked upward with his hand on his chin.

  “It’s been a while since I presided over an execution,” he mused. “It might be good to send a message to the rest of the crew.”

  He looked back at the un-amused Thaxad.

  “I suppose you’ve been through enough,” he said. “The fact you had to go mining in their latrines is punishment enough—although knowing you, you probably enjoyed it.”

  Thaxad studied his captain. “Thank you, sir,” was all he said.

  “All right! Everybody out,” ordered Phaxâd. “We’ll make a general announcement later.” He ushered Peleg and Serug out, then closed the door behind him.

  Looking them in the eyes he said, “As Captain, I always have to assume I’m right even when I’m not sure.” He motioned toward the Castor’s door. “That man has more lives than a tidnum.” He headed out to the main deck shaking his head.

  Serug was not making any new friends, now that his tum coops kept the lower decks smelling of avian excrement. Some secretly nicknamed him Rihu-Tuma, or flatulent bird-breeder, and it was not meant to be complimentary.