He was wrong. A thousand years sufficed no more to discover the truth than sixty. At sixty or at a thousand the best thing was to play a tune on a reed! I approached the player. I was struck by his resemblance to the shepherd I had known in my childhood. Or, did I perhaps imagine a resemblance? Would my memory really have retained the image so clearly?
I praised his music. He thanked me. I asked him where he came from, and his destination. He smiled sadly. “You may never have heard of my country, sir, and as for my destination,—who knows? Wherever the boat stops, I must land, must I not?”
I understood perfectly what he meant, and something gripped my heart like a fist. After seven centuries, was I still a Jew?
“I have traveled through many lands, my friend. It is very likely that I have been in yours.”
He laughed. His voice sounded like several dice shaken together. “My country? I have none. Hundreds of years ago, my ancestors were driven out of it. My country? Any place where I can earn my bread; where I am not beaten and spat upon too often; where I can pray to God in peace.”
“Your demands are certainly modest, and I am sure you can find welcome in any country.”
He stared at me. “You say you have traveled in many countries, and you do not know that it is often better to be a leper or a dog than a Jew!”
“A Jew,” I muttered.
“Ah, you see! A Jew! It sounds terrible to your ears, doesn’t it? I suppose that like the rest of the travelers here, you will shun me from now on. You will laugh at me as I pass by. You will call me ugly names. I suppose I ought to consider myself lucky if I am not thrown overboard.”
“Oh no, my friend. Is not a Jew a human being?”
“Thank you, sir, thank you,” he answered, half in irony, and half in humility.
‘The eternal Jew,’ I thought. ‘Proud and vain,—and ingratiating. And how much like myself’! I liked him and hated him for it.
“But it doesn’t matter, sir. Our enemies fare no better than we. They hate and slaughter one another, and the day will come, when they will atone for the cruelty to us. Meanwhile, I have my reed, my sack of goods,—and my God.”
I remained silent. He mistook it for anger. He laughed a little. “I am sure you do not take my words seriously, sir. I am but a fool, and my tongue utters silly things. Our enemies are powerful and eternal. I beg your pardon.” He bowed, and was about to go away.
“Stay a while longer. I am not at all angry at your words.”
We were silent for a while. The edge of the horizon was a scarlet flame.
“It will be windy,” he said.
I nodded. I looked at the large sack next to him. He caught my glance. “Perhaps the gentleman would like to buy a scarf for his wife, or a turban for himself?”
Without waiting for my answer, he opened the bundle and showed me one thing after another, talking ceaselessly, and swearing by his children and his own life, that never were such goods sold at such a price,—that indeed such goods had never been made before.
I chose a few things, and paid him the price he asked. He was a little taken aback, and as he remade his bundle, he muttered in Hebrew: “What fools these Gentiles are!”
The moon hid her ghastly face behind a fan of clouds.
The azure waters of the Mediterranean changed to a dark ominous blue which at times appeared jet black. The waves which had ruffled gracefully like silk became gigantic hills dashing angrily against our boat.
Food became scarce.
Several members of the crew died from some mysterious malady.
To the east of us the clouds gathered like a gigantic black fist. The sailors, grumbling and taciturn, rushed up and down the deck.
Suddenly it occurred to me that I had not seen Abraham an entire day. We looked for him at his accustomed places. I asked one sailor after another “Where is Abraham?”
They glared at me.
I asked the captain. He shrugged his shoulders and made the sign of the cross. I was about to return to my cabin when I heard a piercing cry, followed immediately by the splash of a heavy body in the water.
“Adonai! Elohim! Ado– —”
The voice died in a gurgle.
Three more sailors died and were thrown into the ocean. The crew made the sign of the cross whenever they passed me or Kotikokura. “We must act quickly, Kotikokura. It is not pleasant to have a knife thrust through your body.” Kotikokura did not answer but his fist opened and shut spasmodically.
Next morning the deck was strewn with the corpses of the crew and of the captain. We threw them one by one into the ocean.
Kotikokura had a few cuts on his arm which a sailor not entirely asleep from my potion had managed to inflict. He licked his wounds like an animal. I was struck by the enormous size of his tongue.
At times we drifted. At other times I steered the vessel. Kotikokura scrubbed the deck, his immense muscles pressing against the hairy skin.
Kotikokura was shouting and dancing about me. His eyes, much keener than mine, had espied land. He had become very restless recently, and complained steadily against his work. He considered it a positive pain, and longed for the solid earth where he never overstrained his muscles. It was one thing to please a Princess, and another to keep a boat in good condition.
“We are reaching land, and you are overjoyed, Kotikokura. You shall be free.”
Kotikokura danced more wildly.
“Yes, my friend, but if you are free of the boat, you will be a slave to the earth. You will have to act in accordance with the foolish customs and notions of whatever country we may happen to live in. Who knows which is a worse slavery? Perhaps it were best to continue forever on the water, where we do not have to pretend any religion, or nationality. For such people as we– —”
Kotikokura shouted: “No! No! No!”
“You do not believe that– —”
“No! No! No!”
“All right. It shall be as you say. But where shall we land? And what shall we be? It is never sufficient to be a man, Kotikokura. It is not even essential. It is absolutely necessary, however, that we praise the right Prophet and shout ‘Long Live!’ to the right Emperor.”
Kotikokura was not in the mood for listening to me.
“Land! Land!” he exclaimed, pointing to the west. By this time, I had begun to see the gray peaks of a long stretch of rocks or mountains.
‘Where shall we land, and under what pretenses?’ I asked myself, again and again. But finally I burst out into laughter, which startled Kotikokura.
“Why should we trouble our minds about our welfare, my friend? The gods who are anxious to keep us alive as symbols of perversity will see to it that all things are adjusted in our favor. Are we not their perennial prisoners; and their eyes,—are they not a million times sharper than ours?”
Kotikokura grinned.
“God’s will be done!”
My words astounded me. I realized how close blasphemy was to prayer.
The sky darkened with heavy clouds, and the wind beat against our masts like iron whips. “Kotikokura, have we blasphemed the gods, or overestimated our importance?”
He looked worried. I patted his head.
“Come, be cheerful, Kotikokura. The storm will pass.”
“Ca-ta-pha! Ca-ta-pha!” His eyes filled with tears.
“We have no time for sentiment, my friend. We must be alert.”
He did what I ordered him to do, but he continued to be very sad. Was he afraid? Did he, as on previous occasions, feel a premonition of evil?”
The storm became more and more violent. The waves dashed against our boats, as if intent upon crushing it. We were approaching rocks. If the storm did not abate, or the wind change direction, the boat would be dashed to bits.