On Blue's waters

“You said you were a fool on a foolish errand.” (This was an accusation.)

“It’s the truth.”

“You’re not a fool, and I can prove it. Then I’m going to swim. You said the people who sent you to bring this good man Silk don’t even want him. Didn’t you just tell me that?”

“Yes. I said it because I know it to be true. I believe I’ve known it ever since I set out, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it to anyone, not even to myself.”

“All right. They really don’t want him. I think they’d say something else if they were here, but I won’t argue about it. They don’t want him.”

Thinking wistfully of Patera Silk, I nodded and grunted my assent.

“But I’m going to ask you just one thing, and you have to answer me. Do you promise?”

I nodded in the dark. “I will if I can. Did you say a moment ago that you were going to swim? Did you mean tonight, Seawrack?”

She ignored my questions. “Here’s how I prove. You have to tell me honestly. Do they need him?”

I opened my mouth to say no, but closed it again without speaking.

“Do they? You promised.”

“I know I did.” I was recalling our dreams for this fair new whorl, and contrasting them with the realities of the past twenty years. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure they do. But Seawrack, you mustn’t swim. Certainly not at night, and not even during the day until you’ve had time to heal.”

She rolled on her side, her back to me. I lay upon my own, feeling the easy motion of the sloop and, whenever I opened my eyes, seeing a scatting of bright, cold stars along the horizon. If she needed to forget a great deal, I needed to remember even more, and to think about it all as honestly as I could. And I did, or tried to at least.

An hour later, perhaps, she murmured, “I’m hungry, Horn.

Will you get us something to eat tomorrow? Not fish.”

“Yes,” I promised. “Certainly. I will if I can.”

I had not realized that Babbie was near us, but he gave a little snuffle of contentment as I spoke, and lay down at my feet.

When I woke at shadeup, he was still there; but Seawrack had gone.

Rain and more rain, all day long. I held court and heard three cases. It is hard to be fair in such foul weather; there is that in me that wants to punish everyone; but I try hard to be fair, and to point out to everyone who appears before me that if only they themselves had been fair, they would not have to come to me for justice. This I say in one fashion to one, and in another to another. Still, I thank the Outsider, and all the lesser gods, that I had no criminal cases today. The impressions of his fingers are on all these quarreling, handsome, mud-colored people; but the light is bad on such days as this, and it can be terribly hard to see them.

Back to the events I have resolved to record.

As well as I can remember I had planned, as I lay there in the dark next to Seawrack, to sail north along the coast the next day until I found a good spot to anchor in, then go ashore and hunt, leaving her to watch the boat. When I woke and found her gone, I realized that I could do no such thing. She had said that she was going for a swim, not that she was leaving me forever. What if she returned, and could not find the sloop?

Krait returned, although Seawrack did not. After a long and no doubt somewhat dishonest account of his adventures ashore (he was full of blood and full of himself as well) I explained the situation. The acrimonious quarrel I had expected followed, and he left again. That was midmorning, perhaps, or a little earlier.

It would be easy-and pleasant as well-to pass over the day that followed in silence. It was not nearly as easy or pleasant to pass it as I did. I had plenty of water, but no food at all. My conscience urged me to pull up the anchor and proceed to Pajarocu-or at least to proceed to search for it; but I could not bring myself to do it. Babbie swam ashore to forage for food, I think finding little or nothing. I remained on the sloop, cold and hungry. My fishing lines caught nothing, and indeed I had no proper bait. (One hook was baited with a knotted scrap of sailcloth, I remember.) I spent hours looking over the side with my new harpoon in my hand. I believe that in the whole time I glimpsed one small fish, which vanished before I could throw.

About shadelow, a fat bluebilly leaped on board. Seawrack was back, and I knew it. I put a line through its gills and put it back into the water, built a fire in my box of sand in record time, pulled the bluebilly back up and cleaned it, and soon had it sizzling in our largest pan.

She climbed in about then, and I thanked her.

“You got nothing with your hunting.” I knew she was tired from the sound of her voice.

I shook my head and ventured to ask how she knew that, though no doubt a glance at my face would have made it plain to anyone.

“If you had shot something you wouldn’t watch the sea with the spear for fish. Where is the Babbie?”