Chapter 7
As Larby sailed away he was concentrating so hard on trimming his sails that when he finally looked back, his friends were no longer visible and the island was disappearing into the curvature of the ocean. Using the sun as his reference he sailed north by northwest. The little boat was responding well, and when he finally had the sails trimmed just right it sailed itself, veering only a few degrees one way or the other from his intended course.
It was midafternoon before he let out his fishing line; darkness was approaching before dinner tugged back on the line. After Larby had pulled in the small mackerel-like fish he thanked it, saying, "A blessing from the God of the Sea that you were willing to continue your existence in the nourishment of this poor sailor." With that a sharp rap to the head ended the fish's struggle.
Larby cleaned the fish, taking care to first eat the area of the thyroid as was the custom of his people. He then cut thin strips, which he laid out to dry, and only when this was finished did he eat his fill. The stars were now out and he studied them hard until he was comfortable with their positions and changed his course not. He slept propped up against the side of the hull with his hand near the rudder. He would occasionally awaken and check the stars but for the most part slept soundly.
In the morning he again fully raised the sails and ate some of the partially dried fish with small amounts of his precious water. It was midday when he spotted a small floating matt of seaweed and dropped the sails. He carefully sorted through the matt, finding several handfuls of edible seeds and a few shrimp-like critters which he immediately ate. The sun was hot and he kept himself covered with his loose fitting clothing and large straw hat. He limited his activity during the heat of the day so as to limit his water needs. His stomach was not yet accustomed to a diet of raw fish and he used his bucket many times.
The sea was beginning to talk to him again. He could feel the waves and their subtle changes much better, which allowed him to steer with limited reference to the sun or stars. The loneliness of being so alone in the vastness of the sea had not yet begun to wear upon him, but he knew from experience that his biggest danger was succumbing to this loneliness.
As the days wore on he followed the rituals of his people, taking time each day for personal hygiene and thanking the God of the Sea whenever a shower provided him fresh water or the sea food. Every morning before eating he carved a small notch in the gunnel of his boat. Maintaining the sense of time was ever so important to one so isolated in the immensity of the sea.
On the fifth day Larby glimpsed something in the distance as his small boat rode the crest of a wave. He knew not what he saw, but knew something was sharing the ocean with him. He dropped his sails and released a small sea anchor to keep the boat stable. He stared off in the distance and would occasionally get a glimpse of something when he was at the peak of a wave. He decided to climb his mast for a better look, but first attached a safety loop of rope around himself and the mast; for if he fell overboard there would be no rescue.
As Larby shimmied up the mast the pendulum movement of the boat increased but it bothered him not. When he reached the top he looked intently off in the distance. As his boat crested another way he spotted several ships far in the distance. Even in the distance it was obvious that they were all black, even the sails. They were headed in a northeasterly direction. As he slid down his mast Larby asked out loud, "Should I seek help if I could even reach them?"
No one answered and Larby sat at his helm trying to decide what to do. An image of Betty entered his mind and brought a smile to his face. She spoke not, but her look of concern was enough to convince him to continue his course and avoid the black ships. He raised enough sails to resume his course, but hopefully not enough to be seen by those of the black ships.
On the tenth day, after a relatively intense storm had passed by, which had kept him awake most of the night, he noticed the first change in the waves. The harmonics of the ocean swells had changed. He was feeling an echo of the waves as they bounced off land somewhere ahead and to the left of his present course. Larby would've been unable to put into words the change he felt, but it was as if a musical instrument had suddenly slightly changed its pitch and rhythm. He automatically reacted to the change: by rebalancing the sails, he changed his course slightly.
The monotony of life alone at sea continued, with the harvesting of food and the maintaining of his people’s rituals occupying only part of his time. The rest of the time he spent carving intricate figures along the gunnels of the boat or just existing in almost a state of blankness.
The seas were becoming much more disorganized as the competing harmonies intensified. Larby knew instinctively that he was nearing the Great Cape and veered slightly further to the west. The fishing had also improved and he required only minimal effort to obtain food for the day. The unsettled seas complicated his life because the boat would no longer sail itself, and he was forever needing to make small changes with the rudder. This meant that his nights were now composed of short naps. When the clouds obscured the stars in the sky all he could do was drop sails and wait. When Larby finally spotted the Cape, it felt as if he were already home despite the fact that it would be two more days’ sail before his village was reached. Now he reacted instinctively to the waves, following the sea's course to his home.
The Scarlet King Page 7