With a container too small to be a bucket and too big for a jug, Dowan swiftly collected water from the boat and poured it out into the ocean. He had almost died last night and was still a bit shaken. Maybe it was a bad idea that he left his home, he thought. The storm that hit late last night was something he had not been warned of and never anticipated. He had heard of people drowning at sea, but it never occurred to him that he would have such a near-death experience so early on his journey.
"At least the compass still works," he thought. The ocean felt lonely during the calm, and it even felt lonelier when he realized he was tackling it alone. Before leaving the village, a friend had told him that the sea can feed on loneliness to make one run mad. But considering he had spent a whole year building his boat, no one was going to talk him out of leaving. He had planned this expedition for several years, thinking carefully about it until there was no question in his heart that would deter him from doing it.
Many people thought he was mad, but most thought he was just stupid – a nickname that adults and small children alike taunted him with. He didn’t fit in with the rest; he always came out as the least smart, the least favored, and he was the scorn of the community. He would miss nothing about the community, though. Unlike other expeditions, this one had no destination. He was a wanderer, he told a friend before he left: "The winds will guide me whichever way they want me to go."
The sun had risen beautifully, like there hadn’t been a deadly storm only a few hours ago. The fickle nature of the weather was evident, but there still wasn’t dry land in sight. The boat survived the night without much of a scratch, except the front part that was still filled with water. During the storm, Dowan had the compass in his chest and had noticed how far he had veered off the path. Before leaving the village, he spoke to one of the sailors who told him to keep north for the closest island, and it was from the island that he would be directed where next to go.
With the distortion of the storm, he didn’t know how far off he had gone off course. The calculation from the sailor was two weeks at sea moving north. The compass pointed north, and he adjusted his sails in the direction of the wind. All the sailing knowledge he had was from several years of fishing with the sailors, so he thought that sailing longer distances shouldn’t be a problem.
He bought binoculars in the flea market and occasionally used them when he sighted something. But for the whole morning until now, he hadn’t seen anything. He had spent six days at sea and expected to spend a few more days on the sea before any sight of land. He had lost some things during the storm, like one of the bags that carried a map he meant to use during the journey. Another bigger bag with utensils and some other unimportant things was also lost at sea. Dowan was a hoarder, even for things he didn’t need; he always carried them along.
It was a fetish, but many were now lost at sea. He still had his food; the sailor had warned him that the food compartment of the boat ought to be airtight at sea and had made it that way because soaked food spoiled easily. He didn’t know how long the food would take him, but he didn’t worry; he wasn’t one known for eating a lot.
The winds were gracious under the clear blue skies, pushing and urging him on even faster than he had anticipated. The ship was well on its way, and Dowan sat on one of the decks staring long and hard at his compass. He was forgetful; one moment he knew something, and in another moment, he had forgotten that thing. But at least the compass was easy to read. He mumbled the sailor’s instruction under his breath after every few minutes, saying, "Stay on the northern course until the first island."
He had a small book with him to document his journeys. He kept the book through everything, lest he forgets his own name and is cast away at sea. As the ship sailed on, and with the compass safely in his breast pocket, he got his small notebook to document his first major incident at sea, which was the storm.
'I am not smart, but I have been counting. By the markings of sunsets on my ship, I have spent six days at sea. The first five days were peaceful, and I sailed well, but then I almost died on day six. It's day seven now, and I'm looking at a beautiful sunrise - the irony of life. The weather is good, but now I know that I can never be sure.'
He stopped writing and put his pen back into the bag, and the small book to the other side of his breast pocket.
He was wearing boots that now burned his feet, but he was evasive to such small inconveniences. The shoes still dripped with water from last night, but he wasn't removing them. He had on a huge shirt with folded sleeves and surprisingly large breast pockets that made him look like he had huge man breasts. There were blisters on his hand as he held onto the ropes and struggled with the tide.
The sailor had told him about the ocean's healing powers and that for any injury, he only had to dip the injured part into the sea, and it would heal. He did that; it wasn't soothing but rather painful. The tingling and prickly sensation was uncomfortable, and he removed his hands after only a few minutes. He took a nap, a troubled one. But the winds were steady. If they kept on like this, he wasn't going to veer off course. With all the fatigue and lack of sleep during the night, he rested on the floor of the ship.
He was dreaming. The sight of the images in his dream was blurry, it must have been because of the fear. The creatures he met were monstrous; nowhere in his conscious mind had he ever met such huge creatures. In the blurriness, they looked like octopuses with protruding tentacles but without faces. He was in the water, scared, but he wasn't short of breath. He was perplexed. It looked like he sat at the sea bed with his arms tightly holding his folded knees.
These creatures moved by, one at a time, but none seemed to notice him, so he retreated further into a cave-like depression on the sea bed that was dark. He heard a voice. "You're chosen. I'm going to show you great and wondrous things. The sea will hear and obey you if you aren't scared, so don't close your eyes." "How am I not running out of breath underwater?" asked Dowan. "Because we left your body on the surface; here, it's your consciousness, so don't close your eyes and don't be scared, okay?" the voice said.
Dowan looked around; the voice was everywhere. It didn't come from anywhere, but it was reassuring, so the fear had dissipated. He still looked around to see if he could find where it was coming from. "I'm in your head. When the time comes, you'll see me," said the voice. A big shadow approached Dowan from where he was seated, and it got his attention. He stood up to see what it was, and it was the scariest creature he had ever set his eyes on. It had the body of a dragon with red, small scales running across its whole body and enormously large scales that ran across the spine area to the tail that wagged swiftly as it made its way across.
It was humongous, larger than an elephant but smaller than a whale, and with nothing to physically aid its movement underwater, but it moved along slowly and smoothly, wagging its tail in the clear water in front of Dowan, who was on his feet. Dowan was shocked; he hadn't seen anything like this in his life, but he had now seen two strange creatures underwater, one blurry and the other vividly clear in his eyes. He didn't move a muscle when he would have been on his heels on any other normal day. He was a fearful boy, always playing it safe; this expedition was his first brave act.
"They won't harm you because they don't even know you're here. Those are the monsters of the sea, and yes, they exist, and you'll be able to see them soon. Just look on," the voice said, this time in a fading manner, like it was heading somewhere else. Dowan was now scared; the fear came back, and he was searching for the voice again. "Here, you can't be scared; it's the only thing that this world requires of you," the voice said, and this time it really faded off. He knew it was gone and didn't know where or how.
He woke up from his slumber; a bird had pooped on him and gotten him out of his dream. Dreams were not things he took very seriously, but these images were still clear in his mind. He looked around hurriedly to see if indeed what he had just experienced was in a dream or something that was occurring to him.
The sea was calm, and he was relieved. He quickly washed the bird poop off his face. Then he remembered what the sailor had told him: "Birds in the sky will tell you that land is close, so keep watch." He was happy; after two weeks of rowing the sea, land was close to him. This had come sooner than the sailor had told him. "It must have been the storm that caused this drift," he told himself as he turned the sails to direct the ship north again.
After a few hours, he saw land; the island yonder was smaller than he thought, but it seemed like a place he could temporarily settle at. Before long, he saw many other ships sailing around the island, and there were people too. Men were casting their nets at sunset; the sailor had told him that most of the fishing in the north was done at night as a ritual. It was bad omen to catch fish during the day because it was when the youngest and immature fish swam close to the surface; the god of the sea didn’t bless daylight expeditions.
There were more men on the island casting their nets. After finding a place to put his ship, he was aided by a young boy who helped him dock at the port. He looked at him smiling and knew it's how he made his living - off the coast helping sailors dock. But Dowan had no money on him; however, he had something that the boy would want. He had pearls he got from the sailor, and he had been told that they weren’t worth much, but many other sailors would treasure them and would also be willing to exchange them for the money he needed. So, he got a pearl out and showed it to the boy.
“Don’t you have any money? Those aren’t worth much here,” the boy said with a grim look on his face. “Okay, but I don’t have any money on me,” Dowan replied. “I will take the pearl; how much are you selling it for, boy?” an overdressed and poorly groomed man said as soon as he saw the pearl. He was too hairy, looking scary. “500 Dats for the pearl,” Dowan said. “Deal,” the man handed Dowan 500 Dats.
The boy was elated; he began thinking Dowan could have gotten more for the pearl. “Well, at least we know that sailors love those small shiny pearls. Now that you're 500 Dats richer, I will show you around the island,” the boy smiled. “I hope you still have more of those pearls with you.” “Yes, I do; only a few were lost at sea,” Dowan said. “I am Kret; I know this island like the palm of my hand,” the boy finally told Dowan his name.
After fastening the cord of the rope that tied the ship to the dock ashore, Kret strongly shook it one more time to ensure it was firm enough to hold the ship. “You don’t look like you’re here for business,” Kret asked. “No, I’m wandering about, trying to find new worlds, adventure here and there,” Dowan replied. “Oh, that’s new; we don’t receive wanderers on this island; it’s mostly merchants as you can see from what’s happening all around you,” Kret said.
Kret showed him to a pathway they were going to take into the island; he told him that it was where they could tour the island and see interesting sites, and maybe buy a few things he might need on his journey whenever he decided to leave. Items such as food were crucial since he had run low on these. Dowan carried his bag of pearls along with him, now more protective of it after learning how much it could get him from the sailors. He didn’t want to count his pearls in the open, so he stuffed them in the inner pockets of his trousers and promised to count them later when he was alone. He was sure he had lost about three or four of them during the storm.
Dowan and Kret traveled most of the island because it was a small island, though with large populations of people in the available places, because it was crowded at every location. Later that evening at the market, Dowan and Kret ate smoked fish, and by the time they had finished, nightfall was upon them, and Dowan couldn’t leave the island at night; he was to spend the night at the island.
“I know a place that might interest you,” Kret said. “Which place would that be?” Dowan queried. “Follow me.” Not so far from the market, there was housing built with soil and bamboo. It didn’t look like there was much activity in there, but the voices that came from the place were audible from the outside.
It was dark and impossible to see what was going on inside, but occasionally a man was seen walking by and then disappearing into the darkness. Dowan was taken aback. “Right there is the brothel of the island; there are ladies that can make your stay worthwhile and are the reason merchants love spending nights on this island. You are a man of adventure; this could be pivotal in your quest,” Kret said in a mumbled tone as he leaned towards Dowan’s ear, like he was relaying a secret no one else should know. He later chuckled as he slightly pushed him towards the shelter.
“I know there is enough to pay for it; I will be staying home for the night.” “You got me wrong; this wasn’t the kind of adventure I’m looking for, so find me some proper lodging where I can spend the night,” Dowan said. “Wow, the moral high horse; I doubt you’ll keep that up for long,” Kret said. “There is lodging, but it doesn’t come cheap - say about 70 Dats for a night. But I can take you in if you get me half of that; it’s not fancy, but it’s worth it.” “Well then, that’s a deal.”
“Keep 10 Dats with you, just in case we run into the authorities; they roam these areas after nightfall, and a ten can save you a horrid time in the gallows,” Kret said. “We will be heading to the opposite end of the island.” Dowan and Kret moved across the island after nightfall; there were no authorities for much of the distance, as the streets cleared in a slow but steady manner. There wasn’t much outside lighting, so the darkness became more visible. A lamp inside a house would be seen occasionally, but it seemed like the island grew dark sooner than Dowan anticipated.
After about an hour of trekking the streets, Kret pointed to a house yonder at the beach as their destination, but torches could be seen moving towards them - it was the authorities. Dowan held the 10 Dats much closer to him; he was beginning to think he wouldn’t use it after all. “Quick, let’s hide in the cart across the hedge; you’re never sure if it’s the bandits or the authorities; they both roam the island, albeit on different routes,” Kret said. They passed as Kret and Dowan watched from behind the hedge. They were rowdy and chatty men who seemed full of themselves. Before long, they were off and disappearing from sight.
Kret and Dowan left the hedge and took the short distance to the house where Kret lived. “This is my humble home, and that is my lovely sister,” Kret said. Kret’s sister was seated on a papyrus mat, sewing something that looked like a cloth. Kret leaned again to Dowan, saying, “While we are here, keep away from her.” And then again let out his chuckle. Kret showed Dowan a mat with a covering to use for the night, as he and his sister slept on the mat laid at the opposite end of the room. Reki was her name, and she had not uttered a word throughout all this. She blew out the torch that was affixed in the wall of the house. He heard her trotting back to her mat in the night. The moonlight peered through the crevices of the wall.
The room was quiet, but Dowan couldn’t sleep; his problems resurfaced, and after turning and turning on the mat, he slept after close to an hour. The darkness helped, but he still feared for the strange land he was in. He hadn’t rested in his life; while awake, he had disturbing thoughts, and while he slept, vivid dreams followed him.
In his dreams, he was back at sea, but it was silent this time, and as time went on, it got more and more scary. When he looked around, again he was breathing underwater, but all the creatures he had seen in his earlier dreams were now nowhere to be seen. He later heard a voice: “Now that you are physically close to us, things are going to be clearer to you. You’ll feel it while you’re awake, but this time not as a premonition or vision; this world will come to you openly; kill your fear.” It was the voice he heard the last time; it was calming, like it had been the last time. It was magical how this happened; the calming effect of the voice was so instant that Dowan was sure it wasn’t from him.
This time, the water wasn’t as clear; it was turbid, and there wasn’t a light above. He saw the first creature; it was a turtle-like creature, but it seemed abnormally huge.
It floated, but something was amiss about it; it made no movements of its own and was moved by the water currents; it was lifeless. “It’s sad when we lose some of those creatures; for some, it’s their time, and for others, it’s misfortune caused by the creatures on land, where you come from. But you, my child, are way too attached to both worlds that you can harmonize and reconcile most of these things. The deep is waiting for you to take on your life’s purpose. You can’t fear; you have to be ready.” The voice was fading away.
Dowan quickly awoke; he looked around the room, and the room was brighter. The window let in much of the moonlight, and he could see the mat on which Kret and Reki were sleeping. He sat on his mat and wondered why he kept seeing these strange things in his sleep. He didn’t want to get back to bed soon because he knew it would just go on and on like this. He stayed on the mat, staring into the darkness and thinking about home. Ever since he started the journey at the coast, this was the first time he thought about home. It wasn’t nostalgia; it was a thought of whether something would have changed if he had stayed longer. Something continuously pushed him to leave, but he wondered what would have become of it if he had stayed longer than the nudge that relentlessly urged him on.
He was raised on a farm where he was born, grew, lived, and worked. His father worked odd jobs in the district, and his mother was a hard maid on the farm. After he was born, his father walked off into the darkness, never to be seen again. His mother raised him until she died of a strange disease when he was eight, and it was then that his troubles began. The endless cultural cleansings to clean off curses that followed him as an abandoned child rattled his confidence, and it was then that the taunting began. He was kept away from every child, with the belief that he was cursed, and on many days, he sat alone on the hill with the cows.
The chief, who owned the farm, preferred that he be kept doing activities that kept him away from the village. After nightfall, he would be back with the animals and head back to the furthest ends of the farm to keep him away from the main house. He was a lonely kid, staying away from crowded places where he was teased and abused. He wanted to go to the market on market days but couldn’t. On days he was brave enough to visit, it was late in the evenings when he veiled himself. Even some of the fellow herdsmen were estranged to him, bidding him to graze further from their areas, lest the bad omen befell their animals if they grazed in the same area.
It’s why he loved the sailors; they would visit the village once in a while and never spend many days at once in the village. As he grazed close to the lake, he sat with the sailors to talk about most of their own expeditions. It was one day when he told one of the sailors that he desired to leave the village and move to a faraway land. He didn’t think it was feasible, but when the sailor offered to help him build a ship, he knew he had to do it. And after years, when the ship was ready, he was at sea after the tutorship of the sailor. It was the right decision to leave; there was nothing for him at the village.
He went back to sleep, peacefully this time.
