These are all pagan tall tales and it is shameful to believe in them during our time.
Without saying a word, the captain swept the pilgrim Wilhelm into his arms and took a step toward the side of the ship. The pilgrim Wilhelm, who may have wished to suffer in this confrontation with paganism, put up not the slightest resistance. Everyone else was just far enough from the captain that they simply lacked the time to come to the unfortunate man’s assistance: the distance from the captain with the pilgrim in his arms to the side of the ship really was measly. They saw Wilhelm already flying over the side, for the captain’s intentions were written on his face and contained no secrets. They saw Wilhelm hanging over the deep sea. All of them, including Arseny, saw him being swallowed up there.
But Arseny saw it an instant before the others: no sooner had the captain lifted the pilgrim Wilhelm over the side, than Arseny stood before him. He clutched at the pilgrim with all his might, not allowing him to be tossed overboard. The battle for the body of Wilhelm, who limited himself to being an external observer, as before, turned out to be brief. The captain was not a bloodthirsty person, so he released the pilgrim Wilhelm when his momentary rage subsided. Deep down in his heart, the captain felt no malice toward the pilgrim.
Have a look, my love, Arseny told Ustina, I managed to forestall time just now, and that shows that time is not all-powerful. I forestalled time by only an instant, but that instant was worth an entire human life.
After calming somewhat, the captain proposed that he and the Brandenburg pilgrims go ashore together and go to a labyrinth that was, according to him, still in existence. The pilgrims refused, regarding it as a waste of time, but someone standing on deck—Brother Jean from Besançon—confirmed the labyrinth’s existence.
Not very long ago, he and some other monks had even visited there when they were in Crete. According to Brother Jean, the labyrinth’s difficulty came not so much from the intricacy of its caves as from its darkness, and so one brother immediately lost his way when his candle was extinguished by a flittermouse flying past. They could not find the brother for three days and it was only thanks to the local population, who were more or less familiar with the labyrinth, that the brother was finally discovered, tormented by hunger, thirst, and a temporary lunacy that went away, however, as the result of good care. The labyrinth itself had not made any real impression on Brother Jean; it reminded him of an abandoned quarry.
The captain then repeated his proposal to the Brandenburg pilgrims, but they again rejected it. The pilgrims announced that they had seen countless quarries, for life had done nothing but bring them to quarries, though nowhere else had the extraction of stone been accompanied by such quantities of tall tales.
The infantrymen left the ship upon arrival in Crete. They were met at the dock by no fewer than 120 women.
Are those the same women who saw them off in Venice? asked Ambrogio.
Yes, they look like them, replied Arseny, but they are different women. Completely different. As it happens, I thought in Venice about how there is no repetition on this earth: only similarity exists.
Cyprus came after Crete. They arrived in Cyprus late in the evening and did not go ashore. They saw the contours of a mountain range and the tops of cypresses. They heard the singing of unfamiliar birds, one of which was even sitting on the mast. The bird liked to sway as it sang.
Who are you, bird? the captain asked, joking.
There was no answer, it sang what it wanted, interrupting itself only to groom its feathers. It observed, from above, the replenishment of supplies of water and provisions. The Saint Mark set sail when the contours of the mountains began to brighten.
It was already swelteringly hot in the early morning. The travelers did not even want to think about what the afternoon would be like. The captain hastened their departure, hoping it would be cooler at sea. To cheer passengers drooping from the heat, he shared more of the knowledge of natural science that he possessed in such great quantities. As he looked at the sun blazing in the heavens, the captain told of waters that bathed the atmosphere and cooled the luminaries. He had no doubt those waters were salted. In his view, he was talking about the most ordinary of seas, which, for certain reasons, was located over the heavenly firmament. Otherwise why is it, the captain asked, that people in England recently left church and discovered an anchor that had been lowered from the heavens on a rope? And after that they heard, from above, the voices of sailors who were attempting to raise the anchor and when some sailor finally descended on the anchor rope, he died just after reaching earth, as if he had drowned in water.
The only lack of clarity here concerned whether the waters that lie over the firmament are joined to the waters in which we sail. One might say the safety of seagoing depended upon the answer to that question because the captain (he wiped away the sweat that had broken out on his forehead) could not guarantee to anyone that he could successfully drop his ship into the lower sea again if he were to unknowingly ascend to the upper sea.
Danger was much closer that morning, though. It was located under the heavenly firmament and issued from the same sea where the captain had sailed the Saint Mark for many years. Heat gave way to stuffiness after noon. The wind calmed and the sails sagged on the masts. The sun disappeared in the hazy heat. It lost its intensity and crept along the sky in an immense, formless mass. Leaden clouds formed on the horizon and quickly began approaching. A gale was coming from the east.
The captain ordered the sails be taken down. He hoped the gale would pass to the side but he understood they would not have time to take in the sails at the last minute. It appeared the clouds actually were veering more to the south instead of coming toward the ship. And though a wind had come up and whitecaps were now visible, the gale itself was developing fairly far away, off the starboard side. Over there, halfway between the ship and the horizon, the leaden clouds had released rays just as leaden into the water: the union of the waters the captain had spoken of had come into being. Lightning kept appearing against a black and blue backdrop but no thunder could be heard, which meant it truly was far away. Light was still pouring down from the heavens to the port side. The Saint Mark stood at the very edge of the gale.
Arseny felt nauseous from the rocking of the ship. He made several swallowing motions. He bent over the side, vacantly observing the dribbling fluid that stretched from his throat. The dribble got lost below, where the seawater raged. Where it frothed and swirled in maelstroms. Playfully flexed the muscles of its waves. Arseny sensed a huge mass of water behind him, too. He regarded its slow swooping even without seeing it, as someone’s back feels a murderer approach. This was the first large wave that flew up (Ambrogio raised his head) over the stern. It froze (Ambrogio attempted to take a step toward Arseny) over the deck and lowered itself (Ambrogio attempted to shout) on Arseny’s back, easily tearing him from the railing and pulling him overboard.
Ambrogio leans over the railing. There is nothing below but water. Arseny’s face gradually shows through the water. Set free in the water, his hair glows like a rippling halo. Arseny looks at Ambrogio. The captain and several sailors run to Ambrogio. Ambrogio sits on top of the railing, throws his second leg over it, and pushes off. Swallows air as he flies. Arseny looks at Ambrogio. The captain and sailors are still running. A wave covers Ambrogio. He comes to the surface and swallows air once again. Arseny is not visible. Ambrogio dives. A thought slowly rises toward him from the leaden depths: the ocean is mighty and he will never find Arseny. That he will find him only if he drowns. Only then would he have time to search. That thought releases him from the fear of drowning. Fear had fettered his movement. Ambrogio rises to the surface and inhales. Dives. Senses the slippery surface of the side of the ship with his hand. Inhales. Dives. Feels Arseny’s hand with his hand. Clings to it with all his might. Resurfaces and lifts Arseny’s head above water. A rope with a log is tossed from above. Arseny grasps the log and they begin pulling him up. Arseny falls. Ambrogio helps him grab the log again. The log slips out of Arseny’s hands. A log tied to a rope ladder is tossed from the side of the ship. Ambrogio slips the ladder on Arseny’s legs as if it were a swing. Arseny grasps at the ropes. Ambrogio seizes Arseny with one hand and holds the ladder with the other. Ten pairs of hands pull them up. They are swinging back and forth over the water. They will be battered (they are no longer afraid) if they hit the side of the ship. Sailors’ sad eyes. A wave rolls away from the side of the ship (the last of the water flows down over the seaweed and shells that have been revealed) and the whole sea leaves with it. The ladder hangs over the abyss that has emerged. The next wave comes up to Ambrogio and Arseny’s waists and swallows the side of the ship whole. Half the sky is still free of clouds. They are pulled on deck.