Solon and the Sea

The day after the storm was crystal and bright. Low clouds scudded along the flat western horizon. Solon sighed, there was still time. 

It had been a particularly bad storm. Waves forty feet high and hard flat water drops that pounded against the wood and glass. The wind growling and spinning the boat around, threatening to pull off the folded sails and break the masts. It had gone on like that for five days. Lyle had said it was the last of the season. Solon hoped that was true. He was ready to go home.

Until they took a bearing, it was impossible to tell how far off from the magnet boat they were and how long it would take for them to get back. Let alone for the whole Boat City to come together again. It had been a long five months of winter sailing, waiting for the storms to end. Solon dipped his hand into the lapping water and held it up to test the wind. Still west. He squinted and looked in that direction at the ever flat western skyline. He knew they would be able to see the Land soon, and he was scared.

He had never been on land, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. He knew the rhythm of the ship. He knew all the ins and outs of sailing. He knew his big family and all the nooks they slept in. He didn’t want that to change. He liked the closeness and freedom of the boat. Land was frightening, unfamiliar, and yet... There was something exciting about it. To feel solid ground...

He tore his eyes away from the clouds and the horizon and surveyed the damage to the deck. Admittedly it wasn't as bad as it could have been. The wood looked more or less intact, although the railing was cracked and the deck was a sprawl of flotsam; bits of shredded rope, seaweed and the occasional critter scuttling out of sight. Solon turned to the main mast and scaled it in several deft movements. He wanted to see if any of the other boats were close enough for hailing. Far to the south he saw a blip on the waves. He took out his spyglass and focused in. It was Antonio and Francesca’s ship, he could tell by the bright red sails flapping lazily in the breeze. He smiled and slid down, he could see his uncle Lyle waiting. 

“Anything?”

“Antonio and Francesca are about 15 miles south of us. They looked okay.”

“Good, come and help me with the bearing?”

“I should help Amia clean this up,” He gestured at the trashed deck.

“Don't worry about it, your younger cousins can do it. Now come on, you need to practice.” Solon sighed and followed his uncle. 

Solon’s real family had been killed in a storm when he was eight. Lyle had found him the next day clinging to the wreckage of the sunken ship. He had been the only survivor. It was a stroke of luck really. He could have easily been lost on the waves like so many others. 

He ducked his head and hopped down into the cabin. Five squealing girls and three equally excited boys sped past him. They stopped short when they saw Lyle. 

“Can we go up! Can we? Can we pleeeease?”

“Alright, as long as you help your mother and Sino clean.” 

“We will, we will!” They scampered up and out into the sunshine. It was the first time they had been on deck in the five days since the storm had begun. They rushed out like water from a bottle, sliding and playing in the debris. Solon followed his uncle to the Compass Room. It was small, with big reinforced glass windows.

All the ships had been built ages ago, out of special wood that stood up to the wind and the water. There were stories about a big wave that swamped the planet and of the people who built the ships. Solon’s great-great-great grandfather had built his parents' ship. When it had sunk, Lyle had helped him collect all the wood and materials that could be salvaged. Nothing was wasted on the waves. They had even been lucky enough to find his parents’ seed collection. Seeds were very precious and people were forever trading for them to grow new foods in their greenhouses. 

The Boat City helped everyone and no one in need was ignored. This came about from the sheer nature of their situation. People relied on one another to stay alive, and through this, a community was formed. It had started with the magnet ship. A big old ship with fancy carvings all over it, that the city held its meetings on, and in its hold there was an enormous magnet. It was big enough that specially tuned compasses picked it up. This was how the city found its way back together after storms. 

When they knew a storm was coming the city split, they would pull up the gangways and rafts and float apart so they wouldn't injure any of the ships in the coming storm. In the winter when it was always stormy they said goodbye to the city until better weather, and set out alone, to wait out the cold stormy months.

When the warmer weather and calmer seas returned, they followed the special compass back to the main ship. This is what Lyle wanted Solon to practice. 

“What do you see?” Lyle asked. Solon squinted at the compass carefully set into the desk. Its small one sided needle was quivering to the left. He checked it against the real compass.

“It's pointing N11ºE, and we’re headed due west, so we need to turn... 101ºE.”

“Good, now go and check on your cousins and I'll finish up down here.” Solon ran up the ladder to the deck and scrambled into the clear morning. His various cousins, aunts and other uncle Sino, were busy cleaning up.

“Grab the spare 20 would you, Solon? This one's snapped,” Sino asked. Solon descended once more into the cozy interior of the boat and opened up the floor to pull out a coiled 20 meter rope. He tossed it up to Sino who began to thread it through a pulley. “What's the bearing?”

“101º East.”

“Bearing’s 101º East!” Sino shouted out. “Let's get going!”

Instantly the deck was transformed into a flurry of activity as the little kids ran to their various small tasks and the adults and older children started hoisting the sails and yelling to one another. Solon set to work helping Sino pull up and tie off the mainsail. Then he pulled his compass out and ran to the big rudder in the back, shoving on it until the ship began to swing about. 

“We’re off!” He shouted. Everyone cheered, they were excited to get to the city and see everyone. It had been nearly 5 months since the full city had been together. 

After two hours they had found the magnet ship. About forty other vessels were gathered around it, setting up the city. Lyle took the rudder and maneuvered them into an open space.

The next few hours were a bustle of activity and laughter. People set up their ships and caught up on all their friends’ various adventures. Tonight there would be potlucks throughout the city as people reunited with friends and relatives they hadn't seen over the long winter months.

The Boat City might have seemed chaotic to an outside observer, but it was actually quite organized. They left lains open so that ships could maneuver out if they needed to. Boats attached to each other with gang planks and threw down rafts for “sidewalks.” Other than that, people jumped and swung from ship to ship.

Some ships served as shops that sold everything from seeds and fish, to old nails and books. While others functioned as restaurants or greenhouses. Solon loved it. He was frightened of what the encroaching Land would do to their little community.

After a week most of the ships had found their way back and all the pathways and gang planks had settled. A day or two more and Solon would have most of the city memorized. He loved exploring the ins and outs of the city and he loved how often it changed. 

Five and a half months ago the council had informed the city that the way the wind and the water was going –west– meant that the city would be on track to hit some sort of large land mass around the time the weather turned. This was exciting news, no one had seen any signs of land at all in living memory. The only things they knew were from stories passed on from great-great-great grandparents in books, poems and songs. The city had decided to let the elements run their course. They were going to the Land, for better or for worse.

This is what was scaring Solon. This was why he kept turning his eyes nervously westward. They didn't know anything about the Land. How could there even be land?? It had all been destroyed decades ago by the Great Wave. They said they wouldn't get there for at least another month, but Solon still worried.

Some might say the Ocean could be monotonous, but Solon never tired of watching the waves sway on her endlessly changing blue back. He loved the Sea and couldn't imagine life without her. He was frightened of what might happen to their community if they landed, and once more he scaled the mast and set his wary eyes on the flat west horizon. What was out there? 

Three weeks after the city had come together again, he saw the Land. At first he thought it was just a late storm building on the horizon but it didn't move the way clouds did. And it just kept building. Low and long and dark. It looked like a smudge in the sky. An odd feeling of nervous excitement built within him. It was actually happening. They were going to land. 

As they drew nearer they could see that the Land was surrounded by a low blanket of fog. How odd to see something rising out of the Sea. How odd to see something bigger and more solid than the boats. Solon stared and stared and stared. The council decided to send a rowboat with six people out later that afternoon. Solon thought they should be careful and wait until the fog lifted to send in a landing party, but the council disagreed. 

The plan was for them to investigate and stay on the island for two days if possible, before returning to the city. If all went well several larger parties would then land and explore the possibility of creating a settlement, or at least harvesting resources.

Solon stood at the bow of his boat and watched the solitary ship slide through the fog surrounding the Land. Of course he was excited, but the looming shadow of the Land was ominous and strange. The ancient calamity that had caused the Great Wave had been a spilling of toxic chemicals. He didn't even want to touch the water here, he was worried, it wasn't right. He could see the land crouching beneath the shifting blue water as if daring him to reach out and touch it. Some went swimming, exclaiming as their feet hit the bottom, but Solon was nervous. They didn't know anything about this strange Land, they didn't even know much about the first Great Wave. Now that they were here, his wary excitement had been replaced with worry. How could they trust those ancient people and this remnant of their world, if the last thing they knew about them was calamity?

He might have been more excited about what the messengers would find, but life on the seas, and the shipwreck he had survived had filled him with caution. His uncertainty about the Land and its safety was firmly cemented when the day they arrived, shortly after the messengers were sent out, his youngest cousin, Tila grew ill. It was so sudden and so seemingly without reason that it sent an icy finger of fear into his heart.

Her little face contorted in some unknown pain. She cried and cried. To everyone's dismay the sickness seemed to be catching, and all over the city, other small children and elderly people quickly grew sick. Nothing seemed to help. More and more people grew ill, and those already affected, worsened.

The day after they arrived, Tila died, and all five of the rest of his little cousins grew sick. Solon couldn't speak, she had only been four, she had barely been sick a whole day! How could she have died!? Four years was not enough time to be in the world, he wept long and quietly for her little soul. It was so unfair, so random. All through the day people continued to sicken, and die. It was so fast, so confusing. Solon blamed it on the cursed Land. Something about it was not right. 

The next day Solon woke tired and sore, he saw the messenger's boat rowing slowly towards them. One arduous pull at a time. He squinted, trying to get his sleepy eyes to focus, he rubbed them gingerly. There were only three people in the boat and only one of them was rowing. What was happening? Had they too caught the mysterious sickness? Someone got in a boat and set out to meet them. The messengers staggered into the other boat and they slowly made their way back leaving the first boat bobbing behind them. 

They drew silently nearer. The city was still. Only the gentle lapping of the water on the ships made any noise. The people of the boats were waiting for answers. They arrived at the city and clambered up into the ship next to his.

“I don't know what it was,” he heard one of the messengers say, “but not more than a day after we left, Tzaro, Kiila and Sevrn got sick. The next day they died.” He paused to bite back a coughing sob, he wiped his mouth and his hand came away bloody. “All the rest of us got sick that day too. It's like an ache in my cells. I don't know how else to describe it. Only thing I can figure is it’s something in the water or the air about this place. We need to leave! Now, before more people die!” The man seemed winded from his speech and he lay back, coughing blood. The men around him sent runners to relay his message and discuss with the council.

Solon turned sharply to find Lyle standing somberly behind him. His normally smiling face looked gaunt and tearstained. Solon lifted his eyebrows with worry.

“It's Amia, and Sino, and frankly I'm not feeling too well myself. It seems like the whole city has come down with something, I don't know if I'm well enough to do anything, but we need to leave, it's something about the Land, it’s making people sick, that's what the messenger said anyways. I'm worried none of us will make it…. I don't even know if leaving will help at this point, but we have to try something. I don't want to wait on the council for a decision. Do you think you can get the sails and I'll take the rudder?” Solon’s stomach clenched, what if his whole family died? Again? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't know what was worse. If he grew sick and died along with his family or if he was the only one left. 

No. Being left, that was definitely worse. A horrible lonely, cold place. “I can try.” 

Though they both labored hard, they couldn't maneuver the ship out through the complicated blockade of other anchored boats without at least one more person. But there was no one else. They were stuck. Solon slid to the floor. He was tired. Fumbling with the sails had been exhausting. He looked over to his uncle. He looked stiff and in pain. Solon rested his head on the railing and stared up at the perfect blue sky, one slow cloud drifting overhead. 

All his muscles hurt. His bone marrow ached.

There was no one out here. No one was going to come save them. The once bountiful city stank of death and sickness. A slow breeze jostled the ships, still urging them on to Land. Solon closed his eyes and breathed out. His sore muscles had become a slow ache inside of him. All through his insides. Even his hair seemed to ache. Even his fingernails. He thought maybe he should go below and rest, but the sun felt so nice. And the breeze, blowing in the smell of the wide wild Sea. He forced his eyes to open. It hurt. Now that it was more noticeable he realized he hadn't felt quite himself all day. He slowly got up. They needed to leave. But his joints felt thin and raw. He staggered toward the main sail and looked over at Lyle who had collapsed over the rudder. He yanked on the sail, and it sprang suddenly open. He gasped and sat down. Winded and coughing. That was all he could do he realized. They would all die here. Nothing could change that, and no one could help.

“Lyle,” He croaked, thinking of something, “Help me get the others, we should all be together, and they should be in the open air.” Lyle stirred and laboriously lifted his breaking body. Together they stumbled below, and one by one helped the others out, until all eleven of them were slumped on the decking. 

It was sunset. 

Slow and beautiful. 

When the sun rose the next day, it was on a city of the dead.