On Blue's waters

I said, “You don’t require much taking care of, Maytera, and your granddaughter wouldn’t have the bottles of water I brought for her if you hadn’t told me she needed them. You were taking care of her then.”

For seconds that dragged on and on, Maytera was silent; when I was on the point of leaving, she said, “Horn, may I touch your face? I’ve been wanting to, the whole time you’ve been here.”

“If it will make you happy to do it, it will make me happy, too,” I told her.

She rose, and Mucor rose with her; I stood close to Maytera Marble and let her hands discover my face for themselves.

“You’re older now.”

“Yes, Maytera. Older and fatter and losing my hair. Do you remember how bald my father was?”

“It’s still the same dear face, though it pains me to-to have it changed at all. Horn, it’s not at all likely that you’ll be able to find new eyes for me, or find my husband, either. We both know that. Even so, you can make me happy if you will. Will you promise to come back here after you have tried? Even if you have no eye to give me, and no word of my husband? And leave me a copy of your book, so that I can hear, sometimes, about Patera Silk and Patera Pike, and the old days at our manteion?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say that our book would be of no use to her, but it occurred to me that the seamen who came to consult Mucor might be induced to read passages to her. I said something to that effect, and she said, “Mucor can read it to me, if she will.”

Surprised yet again, I asked, “Can you read, Mucor?”

“A little.” She seemed almost on the point of smiling. “Grandmother taught me.”

“She would have, naturally.” I was ready to kick myself for not having anticipated something so obvious.

Maytera Marble said, “If she doesn’t know a word, she can spell it out to me so I can tell her.”

The love in her voice touched me; for the space of a breath, I considered what you would want me to do, Nettle; but I know you too well to have much doubt. “You want me to bring you a copy of our book, when I return from the Long Sun Whorl, Maytera? From the Whorl?”

Very humbly she said, “If it’s not too much trouble, Horn.” Her hands had left my face to clutch each other. “It-I would appreciate it very much.”

“You won’t have to wait. I have a copy in my boat. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I had not gone ten steps when I heard the tapping of her stick behind me. I told her that she did not have to come, that I would bring the book up to her.

“No. No, I want to, Horn. I can’t ask you to make that climb again, and-and…”

She was afraid that I might sail away without having given it to her. Perhaps I should have been angry that she had so little confidence in my promise; but the truth was, as I realized even then, that she wanted the book so badly that she could not bear to run even the slightest risk, and wailing for me to return with it would have been agony. I took her free hand, and we descended the precipitous path together.

When we had reached the flat rock upon which the fish had so mysteriously appeared, she asked me about the sloop, how long it was, how wide, how one managed the sails and so on and so forth, all of it, I believe, to postpone the delicious instant when she would actually hold the book in her own hands, pushing the moment back again and again.

I gave her each measurement she asked for, and explained the rudiments of sailing as well as I could, how one trims the sails depending on the angle of the wind to the course, how to navigate by the sun and the stars, how the management of a laden boat differs from that of an empty one, and other matters; and while I was descanting upon all this Mucor appeared, standing upon an outcrop halfway up the cliff so small that it had escaped my notice up to then. I waved to her and she waved in return, but she did not speak.

At last I went aboard, retrieved our book from the cubby, and standing in the stern with one foot on the gunwale presented it to Maytera Marble, a present from both its authors.

It seems foolish now to write that her face, a face composed of hundreds of tiny mechanisms, glowed with happiness. Yet it did. “Horn! Oh, Horn! This-this is the answer to so many, many prayers!”

I smiled, although she could not see it. “All of them yours, I’m sure, Maytera. A good many people have taken the trouble to read it, though.”

“It’s so thick! So heavy!” Reverently she opened it, turning pages to feel the paper. “Are they written on both sides, Horn?”

“Yes, they are, Maytera. And my wife’s handwriting is quite small.”

She nodded solemnly. “I remember dear little Nettle’s hand. She had a very good hand, Horn, even when she was just a child. A neat little hand. It may give my granddaughter trouble at first, but she’ll soon be reading it like print, I feel sure.”

I said that I was, too, and prepared to cast off.

“We’re all in here, Horn? Dear old Maytera Rose, Maytera Mint, and my granddaughter and I? And Patera, and Patera Pike, and you children in the palaestra?”