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(The diary starts
out:)
June 3, 1803
“A man willing to work is always given more.”
The draw of the ocean is that it is suddenly romantic. The crescent moon
sailed overhead last night on a skiff of silvery clouds and dropped its
glimmering line down upon the surface of the cobalt sea. A very enticing
lure. The centuries tell the tales of those who surrendered and took the
bait. While I stood atop the cliffs overlooking that isolated cove, the
lure of the sea hooked onto my soul as well. But I am not a sailor. I am
a countryman talked onto the seas by a beautiful woman that I met only
one day before.
From the top of the cliff overlooking the dock; the last cliff of Russia
that will ever suffer the weight of my boots, the cool darkness
enveloped me and held me fast. The salt carried in on the breeze from
distant seas was a strange and foreboding mix. Behind me, the forest of
pine that I might never smell again.
The cove below appeared peaceful and quiet in its own way, but the
three-masted ship at dock tilted my discomfort back into place. Though a
confusing mass of lumber, canvas and ropes to this man of the land, the
ship would soon be my home.
The rising tide pushed forward as it swelled ever larger, mounting the
rocky horns of the bay with its relentless surges. Under those foamy
sprays of heightened climax, the mighty boulders drank it in and drool
ran down their jagged teeth.
Soon enough the charging waters would be spent and would slither away
into the darkness of the night. With it, our ship would be carried away
as if some sort of prize.
***
My name is Martyn Zoran. I am twenty-two years of age, and I am a
remnant of the remnants of the once great Croatian Kingdom. Two years
ago I departed from my embattled homeland of Croatia in search of the
land of peace. Following the rising moon, I traveled across Russia only
to find myself now staring out at the sea; still searching.
Atop that final bluff, the Pacific Ocean danced before my eyes while I
considered the forests and meadows that the woman talked me into leaving
behind. I centered my hips above the tundra, and inhaled the fragrance
of the hills still near to me. The fragrant aroma of the pine, the sage,
the clover filled my nostrils. Depending on with what uncertainties a
seafaring journey can go, I might never smell that sweetness again. Atop
the crest of that grassy cleft, I stood properly balanced for what might
be the very last time in my life.
I do not know what it is that draws other men away from the soil and up
the gangplank. Those planks wobbled beneath my feet with every step.
From the deck I oversaw the hoisting of my provisions into the cargo
hold. The deckhands, carrying my stuffs, guided me to my cabin at the
rear of the vessel. Every step was a misstep as the rollicking ship atop
the ebbing tide taunted me and made me guess at every movement.
The sea is now my partner. The sea is my only partner. I boarded this
ship alone. Where is she, this woman who whispered secretly in my ear to
meet her here? The sailors that work the riggings of this vessel do not
know me, nor do they extend a hand of friendship. The other passengers
arrived behind me; mere silhouettes cloaked by darkness under the cover
of the night. I desperately sought out a sign of the woman who talked me
into this journey; for what if her stalkers have already captured their
prey, and here I sail away?
The dark night made the ship a large and confusing arena, and the
sailors busily at their duties pushed past me from all sides. The sea is
the staggering drunk they presume to control. The sea laughs as it slaps
at the hull with its mighty hands, and promises to serve a mighty drink
to us in return if we would just dare to venture forth.
A pessimist, I am not. With a confident lift of the chin, I focused
instead on the quiet nature of the cove. Peace ruled one part of the
world at last, even if for only that night. In a place quiet as this,
every sound is piercing.
The ropes that bind the sails
into place creak and moan as they stretch and contract under every bob
of this great collection of beams and planks. The quiet harbor, shielded
from the greater waves, forms a theater for the symphonic sounds of the
lesser waves that sneak up, kiss the rocks, and then race away. The
echoes returned to me from every canyon wall. A wolf called to the moon.
It stood proud, claiming the very stretch of land that was mine an hour
ago.
After my arrival, a man and his wife boarded ship. With them, a daughter
old enough to be married but I saw no man with her. Being only under the
light of the sickle-moon, the features were indistinct. The three of
them were draped in coats that extended to the feet, the women in
bonnets and the man with his fox fur hat. The man stayed on deck and
instructed a hired crew on the handling of their goods while the women,
carrying simple baskets and walking arm in arm, were guided to their
quarters. He seemed especially concerned with his thick wood cases
labeled in white paint as to containing books or charts. The women
seemed of no concern to him whatsoever. They could just as well have
stepped off and gone home and perhaps the man would not have noticed
their absence.
Another carriage carrying a second family rattled down the trail with a
terrible clatter. No wonder, what with it being so swollen with bodies
and the baggage that accompanies a crowd of that size. The lingering
warmth of the day having been pushed aside by the cooler night air,
white puffs of steam were blowing out the nostrils of the long-horn
steers that eased it along. These final souls were a mass of males for
the most part, and again two women; a mother and a girl. The parents,
tromping onboard in the garb of commoners, made their way up to the ship
ahead of the others, and they wandered around the deck admiring the
appearance of the midnight sea. Mere children walked up the gangplank
behind them; alone. They might have tripped and fallen to the sea, and
the parents would not have known.
Among these children were a young man of about sixteen and his brother
who appeared two years younger. They were dressed in warm overcoats and
full length trousers. These two were the strong ones; running ahead of
the rest and shoving each other as they ran. Next came a girl of about
fourteen. She wore a rather simple dress that only covered to her knees.
No coat upon her and no hat to shield her hair from the aggressive wind.
She walked up the ramp hand in hand between two younger brothers, in
overcoats like their brethren, holding them to reassure them they would
not die. Ahead of her, a boy of perhaps twelve; operating of his own
volition and moving swiftly as if delighted with opportunity to make
trouble without interruption. He bounded when reaching the end of the
gangway and began a leap up onto the rail, tossing his overcoat to the
deck. The girl; acting perhaps from acquired skills, stretched forward
and apprehended him at the belt much to his surprise.
So all together I count six males in that family plus the two females. I
make note of this count, for I am certain that I saw the girl reaching
out to yet another. She called that final partner with her hand;
motioning to someone I could not see, welcoming him aboard if he would
just accept her encouragement to come along. But I saw no one else down
there responding. Save the man to whom I sold my cart and ox after
having gathered my stores to the ship; for I have no need for either on
this journey, no other souls were privy to this clandestine departure.
During the course of these events, one sailor; a man particularly
disenchanted with children being on board, thrust himself directly in
front of the boy who looked to be of twelve year’s age. With a growl
from the deepest part of his gut, the sea dog bellowed a warning
straight into the face of the boy whose arms were atremble with sudden
fright. Words spurting forth from his foul mouth that should the boy be
so mischievous as to strike a match to a candle or anything else aboard
this wooden crate while out at sea. Swift on her feet, the girl
interrupted the assailant quicker than he could react. Grasping his
wrist firmly, she twisted his arm behind his back to where I could see
the whites of his eyes bulge out in pain. “There are matters of safety
you would do well to be mindful of as well,” the lanky girl stated with
a confidence that I have only otherwise seen in the eyes of the eagle as
it studies the mouse pinched within its talons. She released him, and he
bounded forward and collapsed onto the deck. Too proud to admit defeat
at the hand of a girl, for how loudly his mates were roaring with
laughter, he complained instead of a sudden cramp in his thigh.
The girl’s guarded eyes scanned her perimeter as if wondrous of other
assailants on the approach. But it was when seeing me that her warhorses
charged forward. Her twin scepters took me apart within the space of a
single heartbeat; her sharp insights cutting through me and assessing me
right down to my very nature. Quick assessments complete, her eyes
turned away from me victorious. She immediately returned her attentions
to her brothers and her work. Though I might not know anyone on this
journey, she now knew me. |
