The Days of Peleg (43 page)

He stopped and waited for Thaxad to answer, and although it appeared he would remain silent, Peleg refused to say any more. The silence would hopefully force Thaxad to say something.

Eventually he did, as he continued to stare at the stars.

“There are other ways of looking at life besides those advocated by your Citadel,” he said slowly, not looking at Peleg. “And you are correct. All men assume that they will live forever.”

He turned to Peleg.

“That is an empirical observation. Your Citadel would say that our own great intelligence allows us to perceive the unending nature of time itself, and that we impose this on our own lives. However, all life dies.
That
is empirical, too.”

“But you didn’t study at the Citadel,” Peleg countered cautiously. “What did
your
Order teach about such things?”

There. He had finally asked the question that had been bottled up inside ever since Serug had died.

Thaxad stared at him intently, and after several moments, opened his mouth to speak. Then he closed it again, apparently unable or unwilling to convert his thoughts into words, and looked away.

He pointed up to
Mul-lik-ud
.

“It is a shame you lost the other refraction disc,” he said finally, with the relief of someone who has avoided a difficult subject.

“If you still had it, I could show you that the ‘Dog Star’ is really two stars, close together. One very bright white star, and another larger, yet fainter, red star. They move together, and in fact, they pass slightly in front each other every twenty-five years. That is why there are always arguments over whether
Mul-lik-ud
is red or white. The color changes depending on their cycle and, of course, their proximity to the horizon.”

He lowered his arm.

“And on rare occasion, such as tonight, it appears to be almost oblong in shape, since the two stars are currently side by side.”

He looked back to Peleg and almost smiled.

“Empirically, of course, it is just one star.”

Peleg stared back at him, imploring him silently to return to the larger question at hand.

Thaxad finally shook his head and lowered his eyes with an expression that looked, to Peleg, strangely like defeat.

The tall Castor turned his eyes back to the stars, swallowed hard, and eventually spoke in a hoarse voice.

“I am sorry, Chief Peleg. I, too, miss Serug.”

Lugalkitun handed out the last of the rations. A few dried roots were the only items on board, and they were graciously offered to Utebbibassu.

However, hunger is a very powerful force, and the crew which had tried hard to remain hopeful now became desperate. Men tried to boil wood or leather in seawater to eat, and some tore strips of canvas and ate them to try and fill their stomachs.

Eleven of the crew also began to develop small black and blue lesions on their skin, mostly in the areas surrounding hair follicles. These same men also were losing skin tone and complained of aches in their joints.

The concept of poor health had never occurred to most of the crew since good health was the norm. The only maladies within their frame of reference were fatigue and hunger.

There were only a few days of fresh water left, and Thaxad was busy trying to extract fresh water from his distilling apparatus, but it would never fulfill the needs of an entire ship. The occasional fish offered a few bites of raw meat, and some attempts were made to squeeze fresh water from their eyeballs.

The oarsman reduced their shifts, and most simply retired to their hammocks in an attempt to sleep off the ache within their abdomens.

In a few days, the greatest fear which they had carried since the inception of the Great Discovery would be realized.

The
Urbat
would soon be a floating collection of warped wood and rotting corpses.

That night Peleg dreamed that all humanity had died from an affliction similar to the one which had claimed Serug—but much worse. Somehow he found himself soaring over the different cities and settlements that he knew about—including those he had just visited. In each, the people were lying dead in the streets—struck down in various activities and pursuits. However, none of them had the look of peace that had been on Serug’s face. Instead, looks of fear and bewilderment filled their countenances, as if asking the question, “What good is life if it always ends up like this?”

He then found himself (in his dream) back on board with the men of the
Urbat
—who were unaware they were the only ones alive left in the world. Strangely, they were happy, healthy, and well–fed: excited about their mission and looking forward to returning with great reports. Peleg watch in dismay as he realized they could not possibly know there was no
Citadel
—or civilization awaiting them. No one to report
to
.

He looked down and saw that his weight, too, had returned, and that there was plenty of food, water, and even wine on board. Apparently he had just eaten, for he was full of roast lamb and figs.

Serug was approaching him with a huge smile on his face—his large gold earring twisting in the breeze. He was trying to say something, but for all of its detail, Peleg’s vision was devoid of sound.

He awoke suddenly to hammering pain in his stomach, and he rolled over on his face, trying to flush the dream images from his faltering mind. He balled his hand into a fist and placed it under his abdomen to create pressure in an attempt to alleviate his hunger pains.

But two thoughts troubled him more than the physical pain. However, he wasn’t sure which one caused more anxiety. The thought that they would soon be dead; or the realization that everyone else in the world would ultimately die, too.

Because then, the demise of those aboard the
Urbat
would have even less significance.

“
Land!
”

The cry came from a scout in the forecastle.

It was early morning, but a low fog was lifting, revealing a rocky shape on the northeastern horizon.

Peleg had slept in and missed his morning measurements. He jumped up and headed for the main deck where several other men had overcome their fatigue and hunger and were gathering to confirm the announcement for themselves.

“
North of the sunrise! Off the starboard bow!”

The men squinted into the emerging sunrise and watched as a rocky shape slowly emerged.

Land meant food. Plants, roots, and perhaps even eggs! And if they were miraculously arriving somewhere along the southern continent, their might even be animals for meat!

Their initial excitement faded, however, as they approached the land and saw that it was only a lifeless rock jutting out of the sea. As they passed it on their port side, their agonizing hunger pains slowly resurfaced to the forefront of their thoughts as this cruel distraction of momentary hope slowly disappeared behind them. Soon it was gone, and they maintained only a minimal optimism that additional land would appear again soon.

Later that afternoon, a thin line appeared along the horizon to the east, and it rapidly became apparent that they were nearing a large coastline.

Soon trees and other foliage could be seen, and they began actively looking for a place to set anchor.

Excitement mounted as they drew closer, but it soon became apparent that the shore rose steeply, and it would be difficult to establish any kind of camp.

There was a loud splash, and Peleg turned to see one of the oarsmen swimming for the shore.

Soon others followed, and despite the protestations of Captain Phaxâd, the starving men would not be deterred from the relief that was sure to be found on this new land.

They anchored a safe distance offshore, and soon the dinghy was making trips to deposit the remaining skeletal crewmen on the narrow beach. There were trees and plants bearing oranges, plantains, and huge oversized grapes. Soon mangos and coconuts were also found, and after some initial gorging, plans began to take place concerning hunting and preparing fires.

The eleven men with lesions had to be helped into the dingy, since they were experiencing extreme joint pains. They carefully made their way to shore, and soon were joining the others in their rabid feast. Within a week, their sores had healed, their stiffness and aches were gone, and their health appeared to be on the path to full recovery.

For the next three weeks they restocked their holds with dried fruits, roots, wild grains and figs. They also discovered some open ranges higher in the hills where wild boars and zebras roamed, and soon they were curing meats and preparing them for storage.

However, the
Urbat
required a major overhaul, and they needed to find a better place to establish a more permanent port. When they were ready, they pulled up anchor and traveled along the coast for three days until they found a large beach where they could assemble the kind of settlement needed for the lengthy repairs.

For the next several months, land was cleared to plant wheat and cotton, and lumber was harvested to build food storage facilities and makeshift housing. But the biggest project was the construction of a fully-functional dry-dock; and when it was completed, the
Urbat
was emptied, and all of the men slowly pulled the weary but faithful frame out of the water and rolled her up into the struts and scaffolding where Untash took charge and began the process of cleaning and rebuilding.

During this time, Peleg was finally able to establish their position with greater accuracy. Although he had lost track of the number of days since their departure, he used the small celestial calculator that Thaxad had given him (he privately called it his ‘Astrolabe-in-a-box’), and as the nights progressed, he was able to make comparative measurements between the fixed stars and the different planets until he was quite sure of their longitude within a few degrees.

He wished (as he had countless many times before) that he had not lost his other refraction disc, since he would have liked to continue studying the four small lights he had seen traveling around Enki. Assuming their motions were consistent, they would have made an excellent timekeeper.

He poured through all of his notes and charts and attempted to backtrack his calculations in an effort to create a better map of the places they had been. It was important that future explorers and merchants who wished to use
Phaxâd’s Passage
have the most accurate information possible.

“We are several hundred leagues south of the Great Western Sea,” Peleg declared to Captain Phaxâd, “and I am sure we are along the western coast of the Southern Continent. I have made some short expeditions in the surrounding area, and even made some long-range cartographic plots using
Zini
.”

“Very good,” Phaxâd responded. “We’re going to be here several more months to rebuild the
Urbat
and manufacture the necessary supplies. Although you can use that time to explore the area, make sure that creating a reliable map of our polar passage remains your top priority.”

During this period, Thaxad would often disappear for days at a time. His latest absence had lasted for eight days, and upon his return, Peleg carefully approached his hut the following morning and gently tapped on the doorframe.

“Yes?” came Thaxad’s voice, which started low, dipped lower, and then slowly rose to complete the question.

“Um, welcome back,” said Peleg.

“Chief Peleg.” The Mentor’s voice remained hidden in the darkness within. “Enter.”

The thatched roof allowed almost no light to enter, but as he peered into the room, he saw a sheet of blackness that contrasted with the internal dimness. He pressed forward and discovered a curtain which bisected the room, but parted when he pressed into it. He entered and found himself in a pitch-black enclosure.

Mentor Thaxad was seated facing a glass object which looked like a small aquarium. A tiny, flickering blue-flame from a fish-oil lamp provided the only light, and seemed to be heating some other unrecognizable apparatus. Peleg watched as Thaxad adjusted himself on his stool, pulled a small wooden handle next to a leather flask which looked like a canteen, and then grunted.

He abruptly rose, reached for small rope overhead, and pulled to reveal a small opening which allowed a bright stream of sunlight to target the glass box.

“You should see this,” he ordered with a short wave of his hand.

Peleg approached, and Thaxad pointed to the “aquarium”.

Peleg peered into the container and noticed small droplets of moisture clinging to the outside.

“It’s a box of steam,” he said, the swelling aura of suspense suddenly deflated.

“Focus
inside
,” commanded Thaxad.

Peleg’s eyes bored into the interior, and Thaxad’s large head soon joined him as they stared together.

Suddenly a small black dot appeared and headed straight for Peleg before veering off to the left and disappearing.

A cold sweat suddenly broke out on Peleg’s back, and he turned to Thaxad.

“What was …?”

Thaxad silenced him with a wave and grabbed the back of his head, turning it back towards the glass.

As he continued to stare, he saw other paths tearing through the fog, and as his eyes adjusted, he realized that at any given time there were three or four lines starting—each one creating its own path in a variety of spirals, angles, and trajectories. He kept watching them appear and disappear until the interior of the glass began to fog over, and the external condensation finally made observation impossible.

“What is it?” asked Peleg, when he had finally found his tongue.

“It’s a mixture of water and alcohol under low pressure, heated to produce thermal extremes.”

“No,” insisted Peleg. “I mean, what were those thing? Some kind of animal?”

“I don’t know,” was the unexpected answer.

Peleg had a hundred questions, but he forced himself to be silent, hoping that Thaxad would elaborate.