The Days of Peleg (38 page)

As near as anyone could estimate, it was somewhere in the middle of the second day of total darkness. Flickering blue-orange light from small
girabba
-oil lamps lit portions of the ship as they rowed through the silent sea, periodically testing to see if their sounding ropes could touch bottom in hopes that they might be nearing land.

So far, the depths were too great, and they simply forged northward following the only clue they had for navigation—their compass.

Only inner body clocks and hungry stomachs were able to estimate the passage of time. It was probably high noon, yet there was no discernible difference in the light. In fact, there was no way to prove that the sun had even risen!

Peleg looked at Kupé’s drawing and wished for more detail and accuracy. Would they eventually arrive on the eastern side of his continent? How wide was it?

He glanced at the compass again to ensure they were still traveling in a straight line, when suddenly the small bubble of panic, which was still resting in the pit of his stomach, exploded.

The compass needle was jerking back and forth erratically, swinging in rapid arcs and even bobbing vertically at times. For one moment it became stuck, dipping downward into the face with such force it seemed the needle would certainly bend.

A wave of dizziness struck him as he realized their futility. The
Urbat
would simply drift aimlessly, surrounded by total darkness until they starved. The best rudder in the world could never guarantee a stable course, since the currents and winds constantly thwart them.

He couldn’t even bring himself to tell anyone. He banged his head in frustration on the small work-desk in front of him. His mind cried out in desperation as he wished that some of the old superstitions were true. He would give anything for some incantation or ancient demigod which would come to their rescue.

He looked again at the compass and saw that the erratic swinging was getting worse.

Adrift at the bottom of the world.

He thought about Serug’s musings on the Source of
Lifeforce
, and for one embarrassing moment, his mind screamed out into the cosmos.

“
Please help us!
”

Glad that no one could hear his thoughts, he looked around anyway, in reflex.

He was still alone. He sheepishly glanced over at the compass with a deranged expectation that it would be functioning properly, but it was now spinning more wildly than ever.

Hopelessness and fear settled into a knot in his stomach. He had discovered, during his travels, many things which he
used
to trust that he could no longer rely upon.

He had just never imagined that his compass would be one of them.

Peleg awoke on (what was probably) the third day of darkness. The crewmen were all commenting on the thin layer of ash which had silently covered everything during the night. This confirmed Peleg’s suspicion of a volcanic cloud.

Without any washing, he headed straight for his navigation cabin, and was shocked to see his compass needle holding a fixed, rock steady bearing, as if nothing had ever been amiss. He was instantly overwhelmed with relief and thankfulness, but suddenly felt a strange twinge of angst that he had no one
to
thank.

He saw that the ship was drifting westward, so he excitedly gave Captain Phaxâd the news, and they turned and resumed their northerly crawl.

It was strange to be so happy for a situation which, three days ago, had seemed so hopeless. It was all a matter of perspective.

It was also very unnerving to discover that a constant like magnetism could fail—and he would spend the rest of his life with this newfound uncertainty.

Sometime during the seventh (estimated) day of darkness, the sounders discovered a shelf on the ocean floor which implied some kind of landmass to their port side. Angling their course slightly in that direction, Peleg hoped that they would eventually arrive along the eastern side of Kupé’s drawing.

It was still so dark that, even if land were nearby, it could not be seen against the blackness of the sky. At various intervals, the dinghy was sent out with oil-lamps to do further scouting, and everyone’s ears were constantly straining to hear telltale signs of water crashing on a distant reef or beach.

On day nine (estimated), the dinghy returned with news of land.

It was starting to get very cold, which was a climatic condition the men had never experienced or even considered. They took to wearing extra clothing, and it was not uncommon to see a blanket being worn about the waist.

The
Urbat
turned to carefully follow the scouts, who established a good place to set anchor. Peleg looked forward to building a huge fire, just to give his eyes something to look at. Of course, it was hoped that the indigenous plant life would supply fruits, nuts, and roots.

Over the next several days, the
Urbat
continued cautiously in the darkness along the newfound coastline. Keeping her distance and using the dinghy for reconnaissance and supplies, she plodded in a north by northeast direction according to Peleg’s newly restored compass.

It soon became apparent that this land seemed to have only sparse vegetation. The cargo holds were only refilling with wild grains and yellowed grasses, and they soon became concerned that they would find nothing else to restock their food supplies.

It also occurred to Peleg that this coastline was roughly what one might expect if they were traveling along the eastern seaboard of Kupé’s map. But if that were true, it seemed unlikely that the vegetation would be so drastically different from the thick foliage of the land they had just left.

Late on day twenty (?), patches of translucence appeared through the opaque blanket above them. Within hours, the blackness had given way to a thick shell of swirling dark gray—and the ambient light now afforded them a distorted view of the surrounding landscape. They could discern jagged clefts further inland and a shoreline which extended onward to the horizon.

There was a communal sigh of relief, since each man’s unspoken fear was that the darkness would never end. This excitement momentarily overshadowed the deepening despair of their predicament. At the end of the day, however, the tepid luminosity dimmed as quickly as it had arrived—with no hint as to the direction of the sunset. It was as if someone had simply turned back the wick on a lamp, and the full, total darkness resumed.

Peleg was awakened violently by Serug, who stood over him, shouting.

“The sky has returned!”

Peleg cleared his eyes to see his friend jumping excitedly. His stomach told him it was just after midnight.

“Come on! You can see the stars!”

Peleg was up instantly, and followed Serug out to the main deck.

A few men were already there, pointing out over the forecastle.

Far in the distance, an arc of blazing stars in a crystal clear sky could be seen. A stark terminator marked the boundary of the thick cloud above them, and, as it slowly moved towards them, it continued to reveal more of the night sky. The brilliant starlight provided such a contrast to the darkness of the previous three weeks that it hurt their eyes. The dust and ash that covered everything (and everyone) could be clearly seen.

Peleg watched as the swath of stars grew larger, but as he tried to look for familiar constellations, a deep dread began to grow in his chest. He recognized none of them. He ran to get his compass, and saw that they were still heading in a northerly direction.

His apprehension grew as more of the night sky revealed itself. At this latitude, and with over two-thirds of the sky exposed, he should easily be able to recognize
something
from the zodiac in the direction of the equator!

He twisted and turned until suddenly he finally saw something he did recognize—but it was in the wrong place.

It was
Al’Bakr—
the ‘White Cows’. They should only be visible in the deep southern skies, yet here they were, almost directly overhead!

A new dread began to take hold of him, and, as his mind tried to find meaningful arrangements out of the chaos above him, this new fear was slowly confirmed.

Everything was upside down. The constellations
were
recognizable—but only when one realized he was facing south. He tried to conjure up possibilities for this confusing situation, until he was finally forced by process of elimination to determine what must have happened.

They had been traveling south these past three weeks! His erratic compass had finally come to rest with its ‘north’ needle firmly pointing in the opposite direction! Somehow, the entire planet’s polarity had been reversed!

This new orientation slowly dawned on the other men, and the joy of being able to once again navigate was dampened by the grave realization that they were horribly off course. Within two hours the entire sky was cleared and the starry heavens blazed down upon them as if they had never been obscured.

After waking the Captain and explaining their new predicament, there was nothing to do but make anchor and wait for the sun. If they were as far south as Peleg feared they were, it would be very difficult to get an exact sunrise measurement. And if they continued in this direction, longitudes would become increasingly indeterminable.

“What do you mean, we don’t have enough water?” asked Captain Phaxâd in his deceptively calm voice.

“We had planned to be close to land for the next several months,” answered a defensive Enmerkar. He was the ship’s quartermaster and held the unique distinction of being the only member of the crew without multiple jobs. He simply made sure all food, water, and supplies were fully stocked, and administered them while the ship sailed.

However, he had failed to keep the freshwater holds full, and in fact, had used some of the space for rock samples he had collected while the ship was waiting for the four men to return.

“There were plenty of fresh water streams there, and we certainly had no plans to leave that continent any time soon.”

“Well it turns out that the sea had different plans,” the Captain said quietly, but with finality. Nothing further would be said on the subject.

Phaxâd made a decision.

“We can’t spend the next two months trying to get back.” He looked around to make sure everyone understood.

“We will continue along this coastline searching for fresh water, and…” he glanced at Peleg. “… making maps.”

“I understand that this new land may fall under the purview of the
Parsu, but right now, survival is more important than which ship gets credit for its discovery.”

Phaxâd paused, thoughtfully.

“Considering the probable strength and direction of the volcanic blast we have just witnessed, it is possible the
Parsu
might have been right in the middle of it.”

The subsequent thought was left unsaid. No ship could have survived anywhere in the vicinity of that kind of geothermal discharge.

It was the third day since the skies had cleared, but the climate had not become any warmer. The sun, with its long, low arc that hugged the horizon, brought little warmth to this craggy, gray land.

Tides forced them to keep their distance, but the cool, yet calm, winds allowed Peleg to use
Zini
.

The dinghy was used to explore inlets and test for possible fresh water.

Sometime during the fifth day, their southward travels were halted as the coastline turned westward. (There were some absolutes that Peleg
refused
to give up. South was
still
south, regardless of what the compass said!) He had repainted the needle, and hoped he would not have to do it again.

That night the sun did not go down.

Peleg had been anticipating this event as he had watched the sun remain in the sky later and later each night. This night, it simply dipped along the rim of the horizon and then continued back up into the following day.

It was now impossible to measure sunrise and sunset, since it no longer occurred. He would have to rely on his trusted (?) compass to determine the passage of the days.

Any attempts to ascertain their longitude were hampered by two additional complications. The extreme angles of their latitude made it almost impossible to take accurate measurements. But even worse, Peleg was unsure of how many days they had spent during the darkness. His calculations required the comparison of local observations with his published almanacs of predictions back home. Only by knowing the exact day could he look up the given positions. If he were off by a single day, it would render his calculations unusable.

All he could say for certain was that they were following this new coast westward in a search for fresh water.

Unless his compass changed on him again.

The eternal sunlight did not improve the warmth of the climate, however. By now, everyone had turned at least one blanket into a pair of trousers and a shoulder covering. It seemed strange for an article of clothing to wrap the legs individually, but it helped retain the body’s heat.

They continued along this western course, following the bleak shore. Sharp gray and white mountains could be seen far inland, and there were numerous speculations as to what the mineral content might be.

The cold, gray beach continued in this direction for two more weeks until it veered southward. From high aloft in
Zini
, it appeared to Peleg that this opening continued far past the horizon. The dinghy was sent out and returned the next day reporting currents of fresh water flowing out. The
Urbat
turned to follow this course which appeared more like a large river flowing out of the continent. However, if it
was
a river, it was so wide that Peleg was unable to see the far side.

They rowed into this enormous strait where the water was colder than anyone had ever experienced before. It was common knowledge that seawater was always warm, and that rivers were fed by the cycle of rain and floods; but whatever fed
these
waters certainly had a much lower temperature.