That was a dangerous thing to suppose, Vanimen knew. The water embraced a person, gave shelter from sun and weather, brought forth nourishment; but it sucked warmth from the body that only huge eating could replace, and in its reaches laired killers untold. He caused lines to be trailed from the deck, to which swimmers might cling for a time of rest if they could not corne aboard. This might also help prevent them getting lost from the ship.
By then, the full storm was almost upon her. Vanimen sought the aftercastle. In the stern below the poop, two mermen stood at the helm. That watch was less arduous now that they were simply letting the wind take them whither it listed. He gave them advice, promised relief in due course, and turned away. Built into either side were a pair of tiny cabins, starboard for the captain, larboard for his officers. On this voyage they were seldom used, for merfolk found them confining. He wanted a while away from the elements. He opened the door of the master’s.
A lamp swung from a chain, guttered, cast dull light and troll-shaped shadows and rank smoke. Who had kindled it-? A moan brought his glance to the bunk. The girl Raxi and the youth Haiko were making love.
To interrupt would be bad manners. Vanimen waited, braced against the crazy lurching and swaying around him, frostily amused at what agility their act required of them here. Above the head of the bunk was a crucifix; above the foot, where a man could regard it as he lay, was a painting of the Virgin, crude, dimly seen, yet somehow infinitely tender. The images had not turned their backs-this was not the church he had dared enter, seeking for Agnete-but he felt anew his strangeness to everything they were. He felt his aloneness.
The rutting couple finished, with a shared cry. Presently they noticed Vanimen. Haiko grew abashed; Raxi grinned, waved, and eased out from beneath her partner.
“Why are you in my berth?” Vanimen demanded through wind-howl, thunder-crash, wave-roar, timber-groan.
“The others are full,” Raxi answered. “We knew not you’d come, nor thought you’d mind.”
Did Haiko flush? “It. . . it would be unwise to. . . do this in the water,” he mumbled. “We might lose sight of the hull. But we may soon be dead.”
Raxi sat up and reached out her arms. In the narrow space, she touched Vanimen. “Will you be next?” she invited. “I’d like that.”
“No!” he heard himself snap. “Get out! Both of you!”
They did, with hurt looks. The door closed behind them, leav-
ing him altogether solitary. Through foul gloom he stared into the eyes of the Holy Mother and wondered why he had been angered. What had those two done that was wrong. . . in her very sight? They were soulless; they could not sin, any more than an animal could. Nor could he.
“Is that not true?” he asked aloud. There was no answer.
Day and night, day and night, day and night, until counting drowned in weariness, the storm drove the ship before it.
Afterward hardly any of that span abode in memory. It was nothing but chaos, struggle, half-perceived pain, and loss. Sharp-est in Vanimen’s heart was that his orca disappeared. Maybe it got stunned into bewilderment and drifted elsewhere, as several merfolk did. He saw it no more.
Somehow he and his people kept their vessel afloat, though in the end she was leaking so badly that the pumps could never stop. Somehow they outlived the tempest. In all else it had its will of them—
· until it was finished.
The hulk lay outside the Gates of Hercules. Vanimen recog-nized those dim blue masses on the world-rim, Spain and Africa, from a time past when he had adventured south. The seas still ran heavy, but azure and green beneath a sky washed utterly pure; glitter danced along every movement. Warmth spilled from the sun, calling forth odors of tar to mingle with salt and flavor the breeze. A throb and a murmur went through planks, ears, bones: a song of peace.
No craft had thus far ventured out of port. Insatiably curious, dolphins flocked about this one. Vanimen left on deck a crowd as gaunt and shaky as himself. He dived, struck, went below, rose anew to continue breathing air. His flesh felt each ripple through the cleanliness that upbore him. He addressed the dolphins.