Across the Unclaimed Lands
Copyright© 2010 by Crunchy
Chapter 2
In response to polite (and not so polite) reader requests, I will forgo the archaic use of Capitalization in subsequent submissions. No, really, I was leaning in that direction myself anyway, it does distract from the story, and although I was happy with the historic flavor it lent, we will terminate that particular experiment. The references to God do not reflect my own beliefs, but those of the times. Go re read Robinson Crusoe, if you would.
I was sunk in misery, a torpor of shock giving me a numb lassitude, my Ship sailed away, leaving me marooned on this God-forsaken savage place. I drifted the rest of the day, hardly interested enough in my surroundings to lift my head. As the evening arrived, my Faith was restored by the most magnificent and colorful display as the sun set into the sea, this work of Art beyond any mortal artist surely needed no further proof of signature to indicate the existence of a Master Artist.
I prayed giving thanks for my deliverance, and gave my trust to my Lord God that I would win through. The current and breeze were carrying me south through the night, the dark outline of land to my east, the gentle sound of surf giving me a restful sleep. The next few days I rigged a canvas, and put an oar in the water by the stern to keep my direction. I had a vague idea of encountering a vessel of some description, even a Spanish ship would be better than perishing.
On the fourth night of my solitude, a hoard of vast shark fins, some twenty feet tall, terrorized me, rising and plunging on all sides, gently bumping and knocking my frail wooden shell. I felt and heard the vasty breath, smelling of fish, and realized that these were no shark fish, but some sort of whales, air breathing creatures of the sea. I suspected they were the dreaded 'Wolf Whales' of lore, but aside from curiosity, they offered me no harm.
A storm blew onshore the next morning, I had to put in my small canvas or risk the rude and inexpert rigging I had fashioned. Even so, the boat was tossed and driven shoreward, with nothing to be done against it. Suddenly I was among terrific waves, all at cross motion and wild, twisting and auguring my tiny craft like a barrel in a maelstrom. I held on and Prayed to my God that I would not be turned turtle.
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