The sun was already low. It had sketched a journey for itself from a mooring in the port to the horizon. It left no doubt that it also intended to set there, at the most distant point. The sun beat right into Arseny’s eyes but he did not squint. The sun beat in the captain’s eyes as he stood on the deck of the Saint Mark; he went to the opposite side. From that side, he noticed people tossing a rope with a noose over the piling of a port winch.
They are planning to hang someone, the captain told those standing on deck. Whoever is interested can watch.
They were all interested, including the infantrymen. They all scrutinized the people standing by the winch, particularly the one whose neck was being fitted with the noose.
Is that Arseny? the captain asked, uncertain. Arseny!
He turned to the spectators on deck and they nodded.
That is Arseny, the captain shouted to the residents of Zara. He held his hands like a megaphone, and everyone in port heard him. This person is under the personal protection of Giovanni Mocenigo, the doge of Venice, and anyone who lays a finger on him will be punished!
The residents of Zara paused. They knew the captain and turned to the Saint Mark to be certain of what they had heard, but the captain was already running down the gangplank. All 120 infantrymen—thoroughly exhausted from throwing dice—watched from aboard the ship.
Did you hear me? the captain shouted again along the way. Anyone laying a finger will be punished!
But the residents of Zara were no longer laying a finger on Arseny. Even earlier, they had begun to suspect that their accusations were not altogether correct, meaning they had most likely been hanging Arseny out of inertia. They had lacked only the tiniest of reasons for stopping, and now it had been found. Their rage ran out just as suddenly as it had arisen.
We are no longer hanging anyone, said the residents of Zara. Your words cleared up all the issues and resolved the situation for us.
The captain ran up, pulled the noose off Arseny, and removed the gag from Ambrogio’s mouth.
My comrade Wilhelm and I just could not figure out what they wanted from us, cried out the pilgrim Friedrich, appealing to everyone. We would like to know the gist of their claims about us and why they suddenly decided to hang Arseny. We see no guilt whatsoever in that person.
Arseny answered them with a grateful bow. Ambrogio began laughing and said:
I just remembered an Irish monk who joked that German was the most important Eastern language for him. His joke turned out to be prophetic: your speech was taken for Turkish!
Once on board the Saint Mark, Arseny asked:
Tell me, Ambrogio, did your gift of foresight tell you we would be saved?
It is hardest of all, O Arseny, to foresee the future of one’s own life, and that is good. But of course I hoped to be saved. If not in this world, then in the next.
The Sirocco quietened two days later and the ship raised its sails. Standing on the port side, Arseny said to the devout Simeon:
Glory to thee, O elder. I think that my waiting has been extended, thanks to your prayers. So pray again, will you, so my waiting will not be in vain.
The next large cities on the ship’s route were Spalato and the wonderful Ragusa. Winds continued to be favorable, though, so they did not stop in either. The Saint Mark’s captain trusted water far more than dry land and did not go ashore unless there was the utmost need.
They first sensed strong rocking motions after entering the Mediterranean Sea. The captain asked those with weak guts to stay very close to the railing: it took a long time to air out the hold after the spewing of seasickness. The Saint Mark tried not to lose sight of shore despite having entered the large sea.
When coming into harbor on the island of Corfu, they successfully avoided a sand bar known to anyone who was involved with navigation in any way. They stopped a half-mile from the island and replenished their supplies of fresh water and provisions. The island-dwellers delivered everything on large barques, shouting as they loaded it onto the ship. Arseny watched as the sailors carried the items into the hold. In addition to greens, they delivered about two dozen crates of live chickens to the ship. The captain personally sampled the flavors of the water and the greens. He sampled the chickens by touch. After drinking half a mug of the water that had been delivered, the captain said:
Fresh water is completely flavorless but, to my great regret, salt water cannot be drunk.
On the Greek island of Cephalonia, where the ship came in to dock, they bought three bulls to replace what had been eaten along the way. One bull gored a sailor when they attempted to drive the bulls into the hold. Arseny examined the sailor and saw the wound was not serious, despite an abundance of blood. The bull’s horn had pierced the soft tissues of the sailor’s buttocks but had not grazed any vitally important organs. Because of the peculiarity of the wound, the sailor could no longer lie in a hammock, so Arseny settled him onto a large kitchen storage chest. The captain thanked Arseny and told the sailor that he should now lie on his stomach more. The sailor knew that—he simply could not lie any other way—but thanked the captain anyway. Arseny most certainly enjoyed the atmosphere of the trip.
It must be said that the captain had taken a liking to Arseny, too. The captain had been watching over Arseny ever since he had managed to save him from certain doom. Once, in a free moment, the captain told Arseny how salt water forms. It turned out that it simply evaporates from regular water in the tropical ocean—thanks to help from the sun’s hot rays—and spreads from there, with the current, into other seas. The changes that the water undergoes are strikingly visible in the example of a lake in the county of Aix, not far from Arles. The water in this lake turns to ice, thanks to help from the winter cold, and then naturally to salt, under the influence of the summer heat. This proves that it is impossible to sail around the world: the ocean that bathes it will freeze in the north but turn to salt in the south.
In essence, we are sailing in a narrow crevice between ice and salt, summarized the captain.
Arseny thanked the captain for the information. Beyond gratitude for being saved, he felt respect for him as a seaman who soberly gauged the limits of his own abilities.
On the approach to Crete, the captain introduced those present to the story of how Zeus kidnapped Europa. The Brandenburg pilgrims protested, accusing the captain of being gullible. Paying no mind to their objections, the captain also expounded on his available bits of knowledge about the Minotaur, Theseus, and Ariadne’s thread. To help them visualize it better, he even ordered a sailor to fetch a skein of thread and unwind it on deck, weaving it between the masts and rigging. The pilgrims offered skeptical commentary to these actions. The captain went on speaking in an unnaturally calm tone, and it was clear to everyone who knew even the slightest thing about people that his nerves were at breaking point. The pilgrim Wilhelm, who knew nothing about people, said: