The Mariner

The second daily visit was made in secret. Just after sundown, while the sky still had a glow about it, he would row by lantern and spend an hour alone. It was there, within the tight confines of the ship, that he liked to keep his thoughts in check, sometimes by whip, other times by knife. There was no desperation to the act, nor any masochistic enjoyment, it was merely a routine distraction. During the day the welts and wounds would throb, but this was the intent; it kept him focused. But throughout all the self-mutilation, he never strayed the blade to his face, neck or hands. Self-harm was a private affair.

If asked, he would have said they’d been on the island for two weeks before his infamous talk with Pryce, when their spell of peace would come to an abrupt end, though in all honesty it could have been longer. Unlike Tetrazzini, no-one on the island had much call to keep track of time, and one day merged into the other.

It was on a return trip from the Neptune, in the dead of night, whilst his back slowly seeped blood into his shirt, that the Mariner heard Pryce call to him from the pitch black, starless night.

“Captain? Is that you?”

Surprised, the Mariner turned in the direction of the voice, holding his small lamp aloft.

“I’m over here! On the rock. Come closer, and bring that light!”

Following the instructions, the Mariner found Pryce’s smiling face amidst the gloom, sitting in the same spot they’d first found him.

“Well met, my friend!”

“What are you doing out here?” the Mariner asked, a little annoyed and embarrassed at being caught during his secret routine.

“Just thinking. It’s so peaceful out here. I often like to get away from the crowd, the hustle and bustle! It’s so hectic in the camp.”

The Mariner nodded, humouring Pryce, though he couldn’t have conceived of a quieter existence than among the monks.

“How’s trying to save the world?” the Mariner asked, grinning. Pryce laughed in return.

“Unsuccessful, but we will get there. I wonder what the world will be like once it’s returned to its correct path? Will this island exist? Will civilisation be rebuilt? One thing I’m certain of though: it will be wonderful!”

Pryce gesticulated theatrically as he spoke, and the Mariner happily sat next to him in the darkness, their legs illuminated by the lantern. Somewhere in the blackness in front he could hear the waves as they broke against the shore.

“Do you really think this world can be wrestled from the hands of the demon?”

“Oh yes,” Pryce said with certainty. “Diane says so. Absolutely.”

“And you trust Diane?”

“Of course. That woman knows more truth than a thousand others put together. A hundred thousand even!”

“And if you don’t accomplish this… Shift soon, you will continue here?”

“Until the day I die, and then I will continue in the next life, and the life after that.”

“Working here. Serving her.”

He felt Pryce fidget uncomfortably. “Of course.”

“Pryce?”

“Yes?”

“It’s bollocks. You know it. I know it. She’s using you all to serve her. You grow her crops, make her food, protect her. She’s spun these lies to distract you; whilst you hope for this Shift you aren’t concerned with the fact that you’re slaves, and until you free yourselves of this nonsense you will remain trapped forever. Fuck the next life, think about this one.”

He’d expected Pryce to react with horror, rage or even ridicule. Instead the man was quiet and thoughtful.

“But what else is there? What else can we do to fix our lives?”

“McConnell believes we need to find the son of God, who will sew the world together.”

“And you? What do you believe?”

The Mariner took a deep breath. He hadn’t spoken of his calling since Absinth.

“I am looking for an island, an island that holds all the answers. I’ve been looking for it for as long as I remember, and will continue to until I die.”

“How will you know when you find it?”

“Because all this will finally make sense.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“There’s something significant about this zoo, I don’t know what, but there is. For some reason, it came back. We were on Sighisoara and suddenly it appeared within sight.” The Mariner looked into the direction of the populated island they’d sailed from. Nothing, just darkness. “And yet there are no lights. Where are Sighisoara’s lanterns? We should be able to seem them, and yet we can’t. We’re separated again, and I don’t know why.”

Pryce reclined, amazingly calm for a man whose belief system was under threat. “For a long time now, I’ve been coming here at night. I like the solitude, just me and the ocean. Perhaps Sighisoara used to be closer? I say this because I used to be able to look out and see the waves, the pale sand, the outlines of trees. Now it’s all just dark.”

“No, that wasn’t Sighisoara, it were the stars, and now they’re gone too.”

Pryce was lying across the rock so only his lower legs were made visible by the lantern. They trembled.

Silence followed. “Pryce?”

A low gurgling floated out of the gloom.

“Pryce?”

The stars…