The Long Journey Home (Across The Lake Book 2) Read online

  More time passed, and Aton finally woke from his somnolence, looked around and saw nothing but short waves rolling across the lake. The shore they left that morning had entirely disappeared. If there was land, the haze concealed it. Nervously, he looked again, but he could hardly believe that no land was in sight. He knew the lake was very wide, and it had occurred to him that he might possibly sail so far away from land that it would no longer be visible. This was one reason why sailors would hug the islands with their small boats: they feared the open water. He stood up and swept the horizon carefully with his keen vision for even a trace of land, shading his eyes with his hand; there was nothing except a mist at the skyline. They were alone with the sun, the sky, and the lake.

  There were no birds in the sky, nothing beyond slender filaments of white clouds. Way out here, nothing glided over the surface of the water. If there were fish, he could not see them through the muddy water and waves, which were not large, but much larger here compared to the shore. They were sufficiently large, although the wind was light, to make their boat rise and fall with their regular rolling. He had never felt as lost as he felt now, even in the depths of the farthest forest that he had penetrated, and he had certainly never been this far out on any body of water. Earlier, he had contemplated the possibility of sailing too far from shore, and if that happened, he had thought that he would probably be alarmed and anxious for his safety. Stumbling drowsily into the solitude of the vast lake, he was so astounded with his own encounter with its peacefulness, so absorbed in thinking of the immense expanse, that the sense of peril did not occur to him. After all, he was not alone on the lake; Hauk was sleeping near the prow.

  More time elapsed, and he began to gaze around more impatiently for some sight of land, desperate for terra firma because they had very few supplies, and he did not want to spend the night on the water. The mist on the horizon appeared to thicken, and then became blue, and in a shorter time than he expected, land came in sight. Because the land there was so flat, it had allowed him to approach nearer than he had realized before recognizing it. At the time when he was really out of sight of the shore, he was much farther from the hilly land left behind than from the low country in front, and not in the center of the lake, as he had supposed. As the land rose in front of him and came into sight, he began to wonder what greeting they should use to meet with the new region’s inhabitants, and whether they would find the nearby residents as contemptuous of human dignity as the people from where they had just escaped. He questioned if they should venture among them at all, or should they remain in the woods until they had studied the local inhabitants’ ways and manners. While he debated these questions in his mind, he perceived that the wind was falling.

  As the sun went past high noon, the breeze continued to diminish. In the hottest part of the day, when he judged that they were comparatively not far from shore, the wind sank to a meager waft, and the waves slowly diminished, too. The breeze became so faint and so intermittent that he found that it was a waste of time to continue holding the rudder in position. The sail no longer bellied out. It hung low as the idle waves rolled by, and barely flapped against the mast. Trapped by doldrums, the heat began to feel intolerable as the sunlight reflected from the water and increased the uncomfortable sensation. He made some shelter by partly lowering the sail and hauling the yard perpendicular to where it had been, so that the canvas acted as an awning. Gradually, the waves continued to decline in volume and the gentle breathing of the wind faded away until the surface was almost still and he could not even feel the slightest movement of air.

  Weary of sitting in the crude boat, he stood up, but he could not stretch himself adequately for the change of position to be of much use. The shore was so close, but it seemed so far away to an inexperienced mariner like Aton. This long day, previously so pleasant, now seemed scarcely endurable with the stagnant air and glaring sun. On the silent water, the time lingered because there was nothing to mark its passage, not so much as a shadow beyond that of his boat. The waves had no crest, going by the boat without slapping against it or reverberating away; they were noiseless. Not even a single fish rose to the surface to snap at an unsuspecting insect. Around them, there was nothing else alive, except a dainty butterfly, which landed on the mast after it had ventured too far from land. The vastness of the sky, arching above the dark water, the sun, and the motionless filaments of clouds, did not grant him any tranquility. The stillness was unsettling to him. He wanted to see waving branches and white-capped waves. Such intense stillness and the bright sky were oppressive; it was as if a glass dome had enveloped them and their surroundings, sealing them tightly away from nature’s sweet breath. He welcomed the gradual descent of the sun past high noon, because as the heat decreased, he could work the oars. Every bit forward was precious.

  He furled the sail, took to the oars, and set his course for the land ahead that seemed all too far away. He worked the oars hard, but made no apparent progress. The boat was heavy, a simple crude design. He worked until his arms and back grew weary. The sliver of shoreline seemed as far off as ever. Curled on his side near the prow, Hauk was still deeply asleep, and only woke intermittently from his napping.

  By the time the sun began to approach the horizon, his rowing had produced some results. The shore was visible and so were the woods beyond. He had only made it halfway from their original position, and he was tired; there was little chance of them reaching it before night. He put the oars down and rested. While he was relaxing, their predicament changed for the better. A faint puff of air crossed the sweat on his cheek and it felt cool; a second, and a third wafted by. A tiny ripple ran along the surface. He remembered that mariners on the lake depended a great deal on the morning and evening winds as they went along the shore. This was the first returning breath of nature’s respirations. He raised the sail, and a gentle breeze impelled them toward land.

  Soon afterwards, they came near the shore. Aton heard scarlet tanagers singing, and a meadowlark calling long before they landed. Hauk finally woke from his deep slumber. They did not want to search for a creek to land the boat, but ran it onto the shore, which was free of reeds and lilies, a sign that the waves often beat furiously here. They hauled the boat up the beach as high as they could, but when they looked around; they found that they were on a small and narrow island with a channel in the rear. They saw no trace of human occupation on the island, which was small and nearly bare. As tired as they were, yet anxious for the safety of the boat, they pushed off once more, and rowed around the little island and beached her again with the islet between her and the open lake. Otherwise, Aton feared that if a south wind would blow, she might be broken to pieces on the ground before their eyes. It was prudent to take the precaution, but the next day the lake was still.

  In the morning, Aton rowed across the channel to what had appeared to be the mainland. After exploring the opposite shore, it proved not to be the mainland, but merely another island. Rowing around it, they tried again, but with the same result. They found nothing but island after island, all narrow and bearing nothing except bushes and scruffy grass. Observing a channel, which seemed to go straight in among the little isles, they decided to follow it, and did so during the morning. As he rowed slowly in, they found the water shallower, and the assortment of waterweeds, cattails, and reeds became thick.

  After the heat of midday had passed, they resumed their expedition, and still found the same; small islands and sandbanks, more or less covered with bushes, willow, swamp oak, and cypress. Farther on, they discovered more isles, fringed around their edges with reeds and tall grass. When Aton grew weary of rowing, they landed and stayed the night. The next day they went on again and Aton continually rowed in and out among the sandbanks and islands. They began to think they would never find the way out.

  The farther they penetrated, the more abundant the waterfowl became. Ducks swam among the lilies, or rose in the air with a thrashing of their wings, before they landed with a splash a sh
ort distance away. Egrets and seagulls dived from the air and hid in the reeds. A pelican spread its mighty wings at the sight of their boat. A cormorant raised a wave as it slipped away under the water, its direction marked by a trailing wake. Finches chirped in the willows; red-winged black birds sat on low tree branches or clung sideways on tall stalks of cattails, and watched them without fear. Wrens were there, clinging to the reeds, and long-necked herons rose from the reedy places where they loved to wade. Red dragonflies whizzed back and forth, or sat on water plants as if they were springtime blossoms. Snakes swam across the channels, oscillating their heads from side to side. Swallows swept over their heads. Bass struck at insects on the surface of the water, near the boundary of the thick weeds, competing against little sunfish that also rose for bugs that had fallen helpless onto the water. A snapping turtle sunned itself on a section of moss-covered driftwood.

  Although the water was thick with reeds, they noticed that it was murkier here than in the open lake, and there was no green scum that tended to accumulate in stagnant places. Therefore, they concluded that there must be a current, however slight, perhaps from rivers flowing into this part of the lake. Aton felt a strong desire to explore farther until he reached the mainland, but he remembered that exploration was not their intention for being here. It was escape, and he hoped for revenge, too. Lanzo needed to pay for his crime.

  There were no signs of human habitation and no matter how interesting it was to explore territory where people had not been, they could not gain anything from doing so. Reluctantly, on the next morning, after passing the night on one of the islands and eating young cattails, crawfish, and mussels roasted over burning driftwood, they turned the boat, and rowed southwards toward the open lake. They did not attempt to retrace the channel from where they had entered. It would have been impossible. They took advantage of any clear space and pushed through it. It took them as long to get out as it had to get in.

  On the afternoon of the fourth day, they saw the mainland. Here, they rested the remainder of the afternoon, wishing to start fresh in the morning after determining to follow the line of the shore eastwards to float around the lake. They spent the night.

  The morning came quickly to both tired men, who were still very exhausted and hungry. With barely a breeze from the south, they set sail. It was so light that Aton almost felt that he could row the boat faster than the wind was pushing. Time passed away, and they continued following the shoreline, occasionally going a short way out to skirt an island, or pass between sandbanks. By noon, they were so weary of sitting in the boat that they ran her ashore, and rested awhile.

  It was in the heat of the day when they set sail again, and the wind was even lighter than in the morning. The breeze had changed a little, and was blowing from the west, making it difficult to tack the boat. From Aton’s observations, it appeared that the shore trended toward the east, so that they were tracing an arc as he navigated with the bank. Judging from the quantity of weeds, the water seemed shallower here. At times, he caught glimpses between the numerous islands of the open lake, and there, too, the weeds covered the surface in many places.

  For no particular reason, Aton steered toward the islands. Hauk was at the prow, smiling, absorbing the scenery, relaxing, finally enjoying the reality that he was no longer under his master’s thumb and could exercise his own free will. As they got closer to the islands, Aton became slightly concerned with hidden stones and the depth of the water. A large merchant vessel would not chance this route. Their boat was small and nimble, so it was not a great concern, but it was still something to consider. Wanting to be cautious, he lowered the sail, and Hauk tested his injured shoulder by taking to the oars. He rowed slowly, but with little difficulty. His shoulder was getting better.

  Although the water might be of sufficient depth for a small boat, impact with a jutting rock would sink their watercraft, take all of their possessions to the bottom of the lake, and they would surely perish, if not by drowning, then from starvation on an island. On their approach to the channel, without the sail, they could only go as fast as the oars allowed. It was a safe speed, as they found out when she did impact a rock, hidden just under the surface of the water. It was a sudden jolt; they rocked forward, but quickly recovered and continued with greater vigilance for concealed hazards.

  They had chosen to go into a wide channel between two islands and entered against a refreshing breeze. The water was calm and the width of the straight implied depth and that meant the possibility of a safer route, with fewer rocks and sand bars. Low sandy shores lined the channel. Thick grass and trees covered the islands. Aton knew it would also be a good place to hunt for meat. They kept going; stroke by monotonous stroke, and when using the sail, Aton constantly adjusted the rudder so they stayed in the middle of the waterway and away from the shallows of the beaches. With a hungry eye to the shoreline, he knew that somewhere along the channel would be a good place to stop, rest, and find food. It might be too late in the season to find an abundance of bird eggs, but the hatchlings would be easy to grab, not yet ready for flight. Frogs and turtles would be easy enough to find on the shore. With some luck, the sandy beach might give up some turtle eggs. If all else failed, Aton knew he could take his bow onto an island and kill a nutria. He suspected that, on the islands of the lake, nutria would be plentiful. With few natural predators except for man and cougars, those islands would be the perfect habitat for the furry rodents. Cougars could not swim that far into the lake and survive, and people certainly did not live out here. He had hunted nutria for meat and trapped them for fur many times around the marshes by his home.

  Nutria, or river rats as some call them, were robust, semiaquatic rodents with large heads, small ears, and small front legs. Webbing between the first four toes of the feet on their large hind legs made them adept swimmers. The vast expanse of water would not be much of an obstacle for them, so they should be on the little islands. Their fur color was brown above and lighter below, and their large incisors were dark orange. They somewhat resembled a large muskrat or a small beaver, but the round, scaly, and scantily haired tail reveled their true identity. The meat was not as good as venison, but it would do. He knew these rodents would eat cattails, so he looked for any signs that river rats had recently harvested them, and that location would be where they would go to shore.

  As they went around a bend, with Hauk at the oars again, Aton was the first to notice what appeared to be a black shadow projecting up from the water on the left shore of the channel, and the dark object undulated in rhythm with the gentle waves. Although it was still daylight, there were no trees or boulders large enough near the shore to cast a shadow that large. He stared, trying to make sense of it, wondering if it was some kind of mirage. As they slowly got closer, the dark void grew bigger and still seemed to hover on the gently rolling water and continued to move in rhythm with it. It was not an illusion. He had heard wood creaking, as if the shadowy apparition were trying to speak, warning them to stay away.

  “Hauk, turn around and look at that.”

  Hauk stopped rowing and turned, not expecting to look at a mystery, and he squinted to adjust his vision.

  “What is it?”

  “I think it’s a ship”

  “But it’s black.”

  “Yes,” Aton frowned. “Like coals from a dead fire.”

  Aton strained his mind and tried to decipher what was before them. He let go of the rudder and shaded his eyes. From what appeared to be a mast, he thought he could see a ragged sail gently flapping in the breeze. This was strange because if the ship had caught fire, surely the sails would have disappeared in the flames.

  “It’s a ship, alright,” said Aton. “Keep rowing so we can get a closer look.”

  Hauk turned around and gripped the oars tightly. With his foot, he pulled his sword across the floor of the boat, closer to himself. Approaching the carcass of a stranded ship did not make him feel very comfortable. “Look for rocks. I’ll get us there.” W
ith a grunt, he got the boat moving forward again.

  They slowly closed the distance, one stroke at a time. On their approach, Aton only let go of the tiller long enough to string his bow. He had seen Hauk pull his sword toward himself, not saying a word when he had done it, but speaking volumes with his eyes. Combat was something Hauk was very familiar with, a brave man indeed, so when he had taken the effort to bring a weapon closer to himself, Aton had mentally paused to consider what they were doing, and had strung his bow to be ready like Hauk. Shipwrecked smugglers or pirates would not be friendly. Desperate men would want to slit their throats for their boat and toss their dead bodies into the water for the fish to eat.

  His hand went back to the tiller, and at first, he steered clear of the strange vessel, but his curiosity got the better of him, so he changed course, and their boat went directly toward the dark ship. He could see that it was a long sleek design, built for speed. The single mast had a tattered sail, the remnants of which flapped listlessly in the calm breeze.

  It was a depressing sight to look at, a once proud ship now apparently abandoned. Other than the mysterious black corrosion, the ship appeared to have been a well-crafted and expensive vessel. Nestled in between two boulders, the forward section of her hull was stuck amid the rocks, but appeared intact. The hull’s integrity remained. She was resting in the shallow water on a bed of sand. A small wave rolled down the length of the ship, gently raising it up, then letting it down. The wood creaked again, the mast rocked side to side like a metronome, and the tattered sail flapped another warning to stay away. Although she appeared to be a swift and nimble craft, why would her navigator have chosen a route through the channels, when skirting the shoreline of the islands in the deeper water would have been so much safer? The shallow water was obvious and so were these two boulders. It made no sense to either of the men.