Gentle laps of water spilled over the floating fragment of his sailboat, denying Felix any hope of getting dry. What’s worse, the saltwater burned his cuts and sores, which the sun had scorched and mercilessly ripened. To conclude his dismal state, the horizon—both North and South—was as empty as it had been the previous day, and Felix suspected that his small piece of wreckage wouldn’t stay afloat much longer.
He’d never been afraid of the ocean, in fact, it had always been his dream to reach shore on the Northern horizon and find something on the other side. He’d never staked down exactly what it was he wanted to find, but he’d been sure there was something waiting for him. That was before he’d tried it, however. Now, after countless storms had beaten down on his small sailboat and it had finally yielded to the power of nature, he wanted only to survive. He didn’t care anymore about finding the Northern horizon, only making it out of the ocean.
“A day or two more,” he murmured as he saw a familiar gray shape in the water, “and I’ll be all yours.”
The shark hadn’t caused much trouble yet, but its constant presence kept him aware and alert. Initially, he’d hated and feared it. The way it lazily circled his pathetic raft, patiently waiting for him to capsize, had filled him with dread and prevented him from sleeping. But after several days, he began to understand that it was the only company he would likely have for however long he had left. And while he was certain the shark would eventually consume him, he figured that there were worse ways to go. At least he would be feeding something rather than rotting at the bottom of the ocean.
Its dorsal fins peeked above the water, as if to confirm that it would take care of his body once he either rolled off the raft in his sleep or submitted willingly to his fate.
But something kept Felix from meeting the latter end. Something compelled him to push on another hour, a couple more hours, another day. He knew he’d never reach land this way, but he couldn’t simply give in either. If he rolled off in his sleep, however, that was out of his control and would have come as a blessing.
“No meal today,” he said to his famished friend as he noticed the sun’s descent. “Not for you at least.” He put his hand into the small sack of food he’d managed to before the boat had collapsed. It consisted mostly of fruit, vegetables, and cold meat. The bread had all gone soft and disintegrated, and anything heavier had sunk. “An apple a day,” he said as he removed one of the few remaining apples. It had several dimples and brown spots, but was ultimately edible. The saltwater did twist the originally sweet flavor, of course, but Felix couldn’t afford to be choosy. After he’d finished, and as the sun finally reached the horizon, he stretched out and prayed that the night would be warmer than the last.
“Goodnight,” he said as he heard the shark surface gently. Whether it chose to turn him over in the night and finally make a meal of him—however thin and stringy he would now be—didn’t concern him all that much. Death would come when it was time, and he was quite ready for an unfortunate accident.
Felix woke. This enough was cause for joy but also mild disappointment. On the one hand, he had lived to see another day. On the other, he had lived to endure another day. Sitting up, he saw that the sun was nearly a quarter into its rise, and already the heat had begun.
“Frozen by night and burning by day,” he muttered. “You at least have a consistent temperature,” he added as he saw the persistent gray shape beneath the surface. “At least, I think the ocean’s consistent. I guess I’ve never really spent a night or a full day underneath it.”
The shark didn’t indulge his curiosity, but continued its routine perimeter check.
“Now, what should I do today?” he asked, standing and stretching. “I have a long list of chores and activities to see to, so I’m not sure what I’ll be able to fit in my schedule.” He looked down at his hand, as if it held the aforementioned schedule. “I need to eat breakfast, most likely an apple. I need to make it to lunch, where I’ll eat a bit of meat. And then, I need to make it to dinner, where I’ll have a banana.” If for nothing else, Felix was thankful he had a small variety in his diet. That at least kept him mildly entertained.
A small tremor in the water gently rocked his raft, causing him to stumble backward. He caught himself before he fell in, and clambered to the center. Turning back to where he would have fallen, he saw the shark anxiously waiting.
“Sorry,” he chuckled nervously, “neither of us are so lucky.”
The shark turned and continued circling, disappointed, but not desperate enough to leave or attempt tipping him over.
“No sort of luck whatsoever,” he muttered. “Not in life and not in dying.”
He’d traveled far on the small sailboat and never seen the land he searched for. Or any land for that matter. He hadn’t met much resistance from the ocean—until his ship was destroyed, of course—and considered him skilled nautically. Therefore, he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t found land. Every map he’d studied, every sign of the weather, ocean life, and climate had told him that land was not far away. By all reason, he should have reached it and found what he was looking for. Yet it had evaded him, as if it had either been drowned in the infinite ocean or was simply staying ahead of him, shifting whenever he had gotten close. He didn’t know where he was headed now, wherever the waves carried him, but doubted that land was anywhere near him.
“At least I know I won’t be going alone.”
The shark showed no emotion, positive or negative, toward his comment.
Felix carried on through the day as he had the last one and the one before that, bored out of his mind and aimlessly drifting. However, it so happened that his first stroke of luck came upon him as the sun began to cross over its middle mark. On the horizon, so small it was hardly visible, was a speck. If Felix had been on a boat, comfortably sailing somewhere, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it. But here, where he’d seen the same flat horizon for days on end, even the smallest dimple stood out.
He stared intently at it, trying to make out its shape.
“Land?” he dared to whisper.
The shark’s dorsal fin surfaced in front of him as if making a desperate attempt to remind him that it was still there, that it could still remove him from the ocean.
“Land!” he shouted, his voice hoarse and dry. “I see land!” he repeated to the shark. It circled him more quickly, seeming to understand what this could mean for it.
As the shape drew closer, however, Felix’s expression changed. It became more visible, and much more isolated than land. What’s more, it seemed to move slightly. It soon became clear that he hadn’t found land but a boat.
“Better than nothing,” he concluded excitedly. “Certainly better company.”
The shark didn’t surface, but didn’t leave him either. It stuck to its tight circle vigilantly.
As the boat got closer, Felix attempted calling out to it.
“Hello!” he shouted while waving his thin arms. “Hello!”
The boat, or its captain, must have seen him, for it turned slightly toward him and began to decrease speed so as to stop.
“Yes!” Felix whispered, almost to tears. By the time the boat reached him, he was in tears.
“Hello there!” the captain called. “Climb aboard, quickly now!” he said as he got closer.
“Thank you!” Felix said, leaping to the side of the boat and pulling himself in. “Thank you, thank you!”
He fell into the boat and lay on its deck for a moment. He felt relief, peace, and joy all at once. And then he felt incredibly tired, so tired he couldn’t stay awake despite the captain’s voice. He began to drift off, certain that he was safe.
When Felix woke, he didn’t feel the disappointment he’d felt on other mornings. He felt only the joy of being alive. As his eyes adjusted and studied his surroundings, he began to take in where he was. For one, he was no longer exposed to the sun, he was hidden from it. Looking about, he saw a small but comfortable cabin, himself situated on the bottom of a double bunk. In the center of the room was a small table with a bench in the wall to accompany it. Several cabinets lined the room, and very little else livened it. But what captured Felix most was a basket of fruit on the floor. It was perfect fruit, not so wrinkled as his was. He clambered out of bed to consume it, but instantly felt his body protest such an ambitious movement. His joints ached and groaned, begging him to remain motionless a little longer, and his wounds threatened to rip open and pour out puss, blood, and whatever else lay beneath the shallow scabs.
Felix ignored his body and crawled to the taunting shape and color of the food, biting into it and relishing a taste that wasn’t tainted by saltwater.
“Help yourself,” a voice said after he'd indulged himself with several apples and an orange.
Felix turned swiftly, his eyes wide and his mouth full.
“Don’t worry,” the man chuckled, “make yourself at home.”
He was a simple enough man, leaning somewhat toward the latter scale of age. He wasn’t thin by any means, but wasn’t plump either. He was a comfortable size, one the shark likely would’ve enjoyed much more than it would have Felix. He had a graying beard, tightly curled, lining his jaw, and bright blue eyes contrasting his facial hair. Eager eyes, eyes hopeful and motivated.
“Once you’ve had your fill, I’d like to hear your story,” he said, “if it’s not too difficult to tell, of course.”
Felix nodded, and a mildly awkward silence ensued as he continued to eat—somewhat more politely now, however. Suddenly, the man started and smiled.
“Where are my manners!” he exclaimed before stretching out his coarse hand. “I’ve been on the ocean too long I suppose. My name is Edmund.”
“Felix,” answered the other after swallowing.
“It is a pleasure to meet another master of the sea,” Edmund said with far too much enthusiasm. “I thought I’d be sailing alone!”
“I'm far from that,” Felix scoffed and then added, “for obvious reasons.”
“Nonsense!” Edmund said cheerily. “A setback doesn’t mean you’re incapable!”
Felix was silent a moment. After his boat had been destroyed he’d given up on reaching those far off shores, wherever they were. He hadn’t considered that, if he ever reached land, he might have the opportunity to set out again. It seemed silly after spending so much time searching and coming up with nothing but a weakened body.
“If your stop is along the way, perhaps I can drop you by,” Edmund suggested.
“Land,” Felix quickly said, confirming his earlier conclusion to give up on sailing. “The nearest land is my destination.”
“Oh?” Edmund’s voice became inquisitive and concerned. “You haven’t given up, have you?”
“I’ve seen the light,” Felix corrected somewhat dryly. “What I was searching for,” he paused, “it either doesn’t exist or isn’t worth pursuing.”
“Oh come,” Edmund scoffed, “nothing worth obtaining is ever come by easily!”
“And if I'm certain I'll never reach it?” Felix returned, somewhat more hotly than he’d meant to. “Is it worth pursuing then?”
Edmund was quiet now, searching for the right words. When he found some that he believed adequate, he continued.
“Felix, we all reach points in our voyages where we can’t see the end. I’ve had my share of disappointments. But those times are when we’ve got to push on.”
“Forgive me if I don’t agree,” Felix said, somewhat more calmly. “But I have wasted far too long on the ocean. I would be content to settle for any sort of life on land.”
“Don’t give up so quickly, the horizon is worth reaching, you've just got to—”
“I’m sorry, Edmund,” Felix interrupted, feeling the memories of shipwreck and ruin burden his mind. “I—I just don't see the use in carrying on. Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Very well,” Edmund said after a long pause. “I’ll let you get some rest then.”
The captain left the way he had come, his cheery attitude somewhat disappointed. Felix sighed heavily after he’d gone, but knew that settling for the nearest land was the only way to end his struggles. He climbed back to his bed, rolling groggily into it and submitting to sleep.
In the night he dreamed of many things, so many of which had filled his thoughts while on the raft. Only then they had been bitter mournings for what he lost, not things he hoped to return to. He recalled a family, his by birth, that he had left in pursuit of whatever it was he had charted a course for. They hadn’t approved of his fool’s quest, of course, and had cautioned him against the perils of the ocean and the reward on the other side. But how could he have known then what he knew now? How could he have known he would miss so greatly the sight of a smile or the touch of anything but saltwater and damp wood? The human voice had only been an annoyance to him at the time, cementing his belief that he was to be chained to a life of simplicity, that there was no greater thing for him than what was before him. He had long repented this perception and realized that the Northern horizon held nothing for him. If it did, it was too far to reach, and not worth pursuing. His dream ended with returning to the Southern horizon, and finally being at ease.
When morning came, Felix felt that his body had recovered for the better part, and would allow him to rise without protest. He pulled himself again from the bunk and made his way to the basket of food. After satiating himself there, he saw a pair of clothes lying out. He judged that they had been left there by Edmund, and gratefully removed his ragged, weather-torn clothes. Once dressed, he made his way to the cabin door and up the steps to the deck.
As he stepped onto the deck, he felt the sun’s violent rays strike him, tempting him to return to the cabin. But he also felt a salty breeze, proof that the boat was moving now, and much more quickly than the raft. It was soothing and allowed him to put the sun aside for the moment.
“Good morning,” Edmund said, nodding to him from the back of the boat near the rudder.
“Morning,” Felix said with a smile, squinting under the oppressive glare of the sun.
“Here,” Edmund handed him a broad sunhat. “This’ll protect you a little better.”
Felix thanked him and placed it on his head, his expression easing back into comfort.
“May I ask where you’re headed?” Felix said after he’d enjoyed the silence and gentle breeze a moment.
“You sure may,” Edmund replied, as if he’d been waiting for that question. He handed Felix a map. “There, circled in red.”
Felix took the map and studied it a moment. As the captain had said, he saw a red circle at the center of which was a small island.
“That’s right, the fabled Island of Mirth!” Edmund said proudly with a wide grin.
It was so isolated and far from any country or civilized life that Felix shuddered a moment. But then, after studying the map a moment longer, he came to another realization. He curled back more of the map and studied the coordinates. It was familiar, horribly so.
“No,” Felix said suddenly, “you have to turn around.”
“Hah!” Edmund chuckled, and then asked in confusion, “turn around?”
“Yes,” Felix said. “This is the same place I was traveling to, although I didn’t know the destination.”
“How did you know to go this way then?” Edmund asked.
“I was told to travel North, that there I would find—” he stopped short, unable to recall what he would find there.
“Find what?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Felix said quickly. “The point is, there’s nothing there but endless sea. I traveled it, and you saw how I ended up.”
“One man’s failure doesn’t dictate another's,” Edmund scoffed.
“But it should serve as a warning!” Felix said, desperately hoping to avoid a repetition of his previous accident.
“Listen, Felix,” Edmund said, becoming more grim and serious. “I have been traveling for a month now, I won’t turn back just because—”
“How long do you think I traveled?” Felix shouted. He didn’t wait for the captain to guess, but gave him the total. “five months,” he said grimly. “I sailed aimlessly for five wretched months in search of something I would never reach. Doesn’t that frighten you? Doesn’t it make you want to turn back?”
Edmund was silent a moment, his eyes on the Northern horizon.
“You must turn back, Edmund. For both of our sakes.”
“No,” the captain replied. “I have set my eyes on this course and will not waver.”
“But—”
“You failed, Felix,” he continued, “I will not.”
Felix began to shake slightly, frustration and despair welling within him. He couldn’t go back, he wouldn’t return to the despair and ruin he'd just escaped.
“What if it doesn’t exist?” he asked suddenly. “What if you keep sailing for miles and miles without end?”
“Then I’ll have made a noble effort.”
“A noble effort at what?!” Felix scoffed. “It’s suicide, Edmund!” Whether or not it actually was, Felix wasn’t sure. But he knew that he was much less likely to survive if he went with Edmund.
“You don’t know that,” Edmund said shortly.
“I know better than you.”
“I’m the captain!” Edmund suddenly shouted. “This is my boat, and I’ll chart her course! You’ll do well to remember it!”
Felix was silent. Seeing Edmund this way convinced him that the man would sail straight as long as he lived if necessary. It was pointless to argue with him. At least, for now. Maybe after he’d had some time to think the captain would come to his senses. But now, any more arguing could get him kicked off the boat, a fate worse than sailing on. Felix went to the back of the boat and leaned over the side, watching the horizon he so desperately wanted to reach. It was so far away, yet he was sure it could be reached if only the course was changed. But instead, they would grow farther and farther away from it. Felix took his eyes from the horizon and let them fall to the ocean beside the boat. He found a new sort of dread there, however.
Gray and silent, just beneath the surface, was his old companion. The shark swam patiently behind, as if it believed Felix was ready now to leap into the water and try to swim to the horizon opposite the boat’s direction.
“No such luck,” he said, watching the grim shape as it kept steady pace with the boat.
That night, different dreams came to Felix. He dreamed of taking action, of the shark being fed, and of a sole captain piloting the boat. This captain would turn the boat around and reclaim the horizon that he left behind. The shark would leave, satisfied and pleased, as the captain would be once he reached land.
The next day consisted mainly of pleasant weather, nothing like the calamitous storm clouds that had crushed Felix’s courage. Under Edmund’s command, the small boat sailed smoothly and quickly, making excellent progress. This progress was noted and vocally expressed by Edmund, but silently reproached by Felix. Every mile toward Edmund’s island was a mile further from shore, Felix was certain of this. He doubted first that any Island of Mirth existed, and secondly that anything of worth still remained on it if it did exist. If Edmund had found it, surely other captains with much more capable boats would have sailed to it. If this was the case, Edmund would be either furious or persist that he had arrived at the wrong island, leading them to continue in an endless voyage. But, while the sun shone and the food supply was stocked, Felix knew that Edmund could not be pulled away from his course. But perhaps, under storm and wave, the captain would be swayed. All men believe themselves to be invincible until they meet a strength greater than their own, and such strength was the ocean’s whim.
“Where did you get that map anyway?” Felix asked one day as he watched Edmund study the paper. The captain looked up and gave a somewhat cautious glance.
“I came by it honestly if that’s what you’re asking,” was his quick response.
“I never said you didn’t,” Felix replied, “It’s just, I’ve never seen a map with the Island of Mirth on it.”
“But you’ve heard of the island?” Edmund asked, peeling his attention from the map. “You don’t doubt the island?”
“I’ve heard of it,” Felix began, “I think every man with his eyes to the sea's heard of it.” He paused, and then added, “I wouldn’t say I believe it exists, though.”
“And why shouldn’t it?” Edmund asked, crossing his arms.
“Well—”
“Have you sailed to its coordinates?” the captain interrupted.
Felix was about to protest, but Edmund continued.
“If your nay-saying comes only from what you've heard, why should you take stock in it?”
“Well that’s just it,” Felix protested, “all I’ve heard of the island is from rumor. Good or bad, I’ve never seen a picture of it or as I said before, a map with its coordinates.”
Edmund gave him a queer look, not one that doubted his words but one that listened with caution.
“I got this map from a respected gentleman,” Edmund explained. “One who’d traveled the sea and made himself a handsome profit. You'll forgive me if I take his word over your rumors.”
Felix pursed his lips a moment, thinking of a way to counter Edmund’s proof. There’s nothing more tempting than to follow the path another man has taken to achieve success after he's made it.
“Did you pay for the map?” Felix asked.
“What’s that got to do with it,” Edmund scoffed.
“It could mean a great deal,” Felix continued, assuming that Edmund had paid handsomely for the map. “If you didn’t pay for it, then this man no doubt gave it because he believed you could make it. If you did pay for it, it could mean that the island does not exist—or he knows you cannot reach it—and is therefore hoping only to make a few dollars off you. Why sell the secret to such a source of prosperity?”
Edmund was silent a moment, unfortunately not out of an epiphanic realization. When he spoke, which was almost a full minute later, his tone had dropped all decency.
“Listen here,” he began, his jaw clenched tight, “I have no reason to doubt this gentleman any more than I have to believe you.”
“Why is that,” Felix scoffed, forgetting somewhat the captain’s temper. “Because you found him comfortably holed up in his lair? Because you picked me up from the ocean, hanging on to life by a mere thread?” Felix raised an inquisitive brow. “From where we both stand, I would say that I currently have greater credibility regarding what lies North.”
“You’re a coward,” Edmund said, suddenly making the argument personal.
“How dare you,” Felix said, his own jaw now tightly clenched.
“One stroke of bad luck and you’re sent adrift,” the captain continued. “Not even enough gumption to take a second chance when it’s been offered!”
“A second chance!?” Felix scoffed angrily.
“What else would you call me?” Edmund replied hotly. “I’m nothing short of God’s emissary, here to get you back on your feet and lead you to prosperity!”
“Prosperity!” Felix ran his hands through his hair. “I searched for it,” he then said, his voice becoming a violent whisper. “Where you found me, on that scrap of boat, that’s all the prosperity this ocean has to offer!”
“Maybe,” replied the captain, looking away. “For those who give up.”
Felix felt a surge of rage as memories of his best efforts being swallowed by an ocean wall. No amount of preparing or nautical experience could have stopped the waves from cracking his boat in two. The ocean had laughed at him, at his feeble claim to what lay beyond the Northern horizon.
His mind went to the shark, to the hungry presence waiting for a body to fall over. But before he dwelt long enough to commit his thoughts, the captain pointed up abruptly.
“There!” he whispered, pointing to the sky.
Felix looked up, half hoping to see a storm on the Northern horizon, if only to shake the captain's stubborn confidence. Instead, he saw a bird high above them, gliding lazily from the North. They both stared at it a moment, each stunned and lost in their own reflections of what the bird’s presence meant.
“Would a gull be out this far if there wasn’t land nearby?” the captain said, his face now filling with triumphant confidence.
Felix didn’t answer, he knew full well that a bird meant land. He considered for a moment whether he had been wrong, whether the answer had waited just beyond the next wave. But looking more closely at the bird, he wasn’t yet convinced that land was close.
“That looks a bit larger than a gull, doesn’t it?”
“If it’s larger, I’d say that means it would be even closer to land!” the captain said eagerly and without taking so much as a second glance at the bird. He’d seen what he needed to continue, and Felix saw that whether the bird was a gull or not would make no difference. So he retired his efforts for the day, watching the Northern horizon as it stretched on without end.
During the days after the bird's appearance, Edmund sailed with new eagerness, occasionally glancing up at the bird as it wheeled overhead. It seemed to be following the boat, although it didn’t make any efforts to land. Edmund said this was a good sign, that it meant the bird wasn’t exhausted from a long flight, which further meant that land was even nearer than he'd thought before.
“Nature tells no lies,” he said, “men do.”
Felix didn’t argue with him as much as he did the day before, the bird’s presence had got him thinking. Part of him continued in the vein of thought that there was no land ahead, that the bird hadn’t changed anything. After all, he’d seen the occasional bird while sailing, and he hadn’t found land. Another part of him, however, felt a flicker of hope. He wondered if maybe luck would finally strike and he would be granted all the things he’d sailed the sea for. This hope was overshadowed by his destruction at the cold hands of the sea, however, therefore his hope was less secure than it could have been. For the day, he decided to be patient and let the captain have a few more days. If a storm came that shook the captain, he would step in and guide the boat South.
One night, as the captain’s snores generously wafted from his bunk, Felix was awakened. He wasn’t easily roused from sleep, so he took it seriously. If the boat was to face opposition, or a storm was on its way, he would be prepared. But he saw no reason to wake the captain yet, and decided to take a look on deck alone.
The deep sea air of night welcomed him to its gentle presence as he left the cabin and set foot on deck. The moon rested above, pale and beautiful, but offering no comfort. It seemed solitary and cold to Felix, almost lost, and made him shiver against the night. He set to looking for the source of the sound, eager to return to his bunk.
His eyes scanned the deck, searching for a loose article or something out of place. Everything seemed in order, but as he walked toward the front of the deck, he made a discovery. At the front of the boat, struggling against a mess of ropes, was the bird. Felix stepped back quickly at the sight of it, for it was much larger than it had looked while flying. In the dim moonlight, he observed it cautiously.
It was large, as Felix had noted before, and certainly not a gull. It was white like one, but its wings—now ruffled and tangled—were speckled with gray and black. These did not set it apart from a common gull, however. It was the beak and head that caught Felix’s attention. Its head was large, much less like a gull’s and more like a duck’s although superior in size. Its beak was long, not ridiculously so, but enough to puzzle Felix. The beak sloped downward and then up slightly, only to end with another curve, making a sharp tip. It had great black eyes, seemingly void of any other color, contrasting its snow-white body.
It moved abruptly, rustling itself in an attempt to escape the mess it had winded up in.
“How’d this happen?” Felix asked, as a father to his child. He recalled how free and ambitious it had seemed only several hours ago, and marveled at the chances of it becoming so tangled.
The bird was motionless for a moment, fixing him with one eye.
“I’ll help you out of there,” Felix said as he began to move toward it. “Just—”
The bird suddenly grunted, further confirming that it wasn’t a gull, and fluttered again.
“—let me help you,” Felix whispered. He moved closer, all the while realizing that the bird’s wingspan was likely as tall as him.
When he reached it, he put one hand on the rope and the other on the bird. A struggle ensued, in which the bird flapped, grunted, and tried to peck Felix, while he desperately struggled with the rope. The bird nipped his hand violently, causing Felix to withdraw. A small trickle of blood crept down his arm.
“I’m trying to help you!” he hissed angrily.
The bird didn’t answer, but kept its wings as poised as its restrictors would allow. Felix considered leaving it, but there was a desperation in the bird’s void eyes that caused him to hesitate. It was a magnificent bird, or it had been before it was tangled up. All it needed was someone to set it straight and it would be back in the air again, soaring high above the ocean.
“Alright, if you want to get out of this mess, you gotta trust me,” Felix said as he moved to try again.
The bird was cautious, watching him approach, but waited. But as soon as Felix took hold of the rope, it began to flail wildly. That bird, that had only moments ago looked so magnificent and been destined to fly again, shook and flurried like a seizure. It resisted every attempt to help, as if it would rather remain trapped than accept him. But Felix persisted, using one hand to ward off its beak and the other to wrench the bird out of the rope. The bird grunted angrily and bit Felix until he couldn’t take anymore.
“Fine!” he said as he stumbled backward, away from the bird.
But the bird wasn’t finished yet, and continued raving. It was so dramatic in its struggle that it managed to gain several meters of flight, however unsteady. Once it did, however, it was yanked back by its anchor, one wing being cramped and twisted. By the time the bird began to fall, it had moved several feet over the ocean.
“No!” Felix whispered as the bird crashed into the sea, still tangled but now fighting to position itself upward. Felix moved to the rope, taking hold of it and beginning to pull. If nothing else, he could keep the bird from drowning. But it seemed that the bird’s resistance had cost it everything.
Up from the depths came that familiar gray shape. It grew larger and larger, its dorsal fin breaching the surface as it picked up speed. In a moment far too quick, the shark rose above the water, its mouth gaping and ridged with hundreds of razors. The next moment was sudden, wrenching, and brutal. The shark fell on the bird, its mouth clenching around the white neck and upper body as it dragged the bird from life. The rope snapped, severed in the shark’s mouth, and Felix stumbled backward.
He quickly rose and moved to the side of the boat, his hands curled into fists of rage. He almost shouted, almost screamed at the base animal. But he didn’t. He knew it wouldn’t do any good. The bird was dead, killed by its own resistance toward a helping hand. The shark had lingered patiently, knowing that sooner or later someone would fall to his watery domain. But unlike it, Felix knew that no patience of his or Edmund’s would be rewarded. Watching the bird, he’d come to the certainty that the boat had to be turned around. He wasn’t the only one who had been searching land, the bird had no doubt long been in pursuit of it. What’s more, it had come from the Northern horizon, meaning that there was no land to be found.
Felix turned from the ocean back toward the cabin, stopping only when he saw the wheel. He considered taking it and turning them around, adjusting the sails to take them South. But he knew he couldn’t, that Edmund would eventually wake up and the shark would likely receive another meal.
“What are you doing?” a low voice said, startling Felix from his sudden desire.
He turned anxiously, eyes fixed on the darkness of the short stairway to the cabin. Although he couldn’t make him out completely, he saw Edmund’s shape standing ominously.
“I—” Felix began, “there was—”
He was silenced when the captain stepped into the moonlight. A faint glimmer was seen stemming from his outstretched hand, and Felix froze before the trajectory of a pistol.
“Turning my boat around, are you?” the captain growled, taking a step closer, his hand resolutely gripped on the weapon.
“No, no I—”
“You are a coward,” he continued, his teeth gritting against one another. “I’m surprised you made it this far.”
“I wasn’t turning the boat around!” Felix protested, his hands outstretched as if they could stop a bullet. “The bird it—”
“The bird?”
“Yes, it was eaten by a shark!” Felix exclaimed.
The captain grinned and let a slow chuckle trickle through his teeth.
“Is that the best you can come up with?” he said, “a shark ate the bird?”
“It’s the truth,” Felix said angrily now.
Edmund saw the spike in temper and straightened his arm, the pistol ready.
“I’m sorry,” Felix said, breathing heavily and forcing himself not to look straight at the gun. “I just—I’m telling the truth.”
“I’m sure you are,” the captain grunted. “But I can’t take any chances,” he added before flicking his gun toward the cabin. “In,” he grunted.
Felix obeyed, fear and anger seeping into his breath. But he didn’t believe the captain would kill him, if he was going to he would have done it on deck and tossed his body to the shark. But whatever he was going to do, Felix knew that he was no longer a passenger on the captain's boat.
Once inside the cabin, the captain said “sit there,” while pointing to the floor. Felix did so, noticing that the captain had brought the rope from the deck. The captain lowered himself to eye level, the gun directed at Felix’s chest. “Make one move and I’ll send you South,” he threatened. Felix didn’t move, didn’t so much as blink. The captain then tied him firmly, so that his arms and legs were constricted.
Once finished, the captain stood and surveyed his work.
“I will not be turning this boat around,” he said. “You and I will see Northern shores or die at sea.”
Felix didn’t answer, and the captain gave him a good long glare before leaving.
After he’d gone, Felix began to panic. Tied and below deck, he would have no chance of survival if a storm struck the boat. But he knew he could do nothing at the moment. He shuffled to a wall and leaned against it, breathing heavily as he looked out the small window across him. Passing by it, as if it understood the situation, was the gray dorsal fin.
Days dragged on with Felix locked beneath deck, the captain coming in to check on him now and again. The ropes seemed to grow tighter rather than wear out with time, as if they were held fast by Edmund’s willpower.
But despite their new relationship, Edmund didn't act violently or harass Felix more than he believed necessary. He kept him fed, talked every once in a while, and only threatened him when he thought Felix was making an attempt to free himself. This never happened, of course; Felix knew full-well that the boat was headed where the captain wanted it to go. Unless by some stroke of overdue luck Edmund fell over the side and was consumed by the shark. But this would never happen either, so Felix remained calm as he could and waited, watching gentle waves pass by the window.
“We’re almost there,” the captain said one day, “I can feel it. Land’s close.”
Felix didn’t answer, but counted the days since he’d been picked up, since the captain had first told said they were close.
“We just need to hold out a little longer,” he mused.
“What’ll you do with me when you land?” Felix then asked, having never considered his situation at the end of it all. If there was an end, of course.
“That depends,” Edmund replied. “On whether your attitude’s changed by then.”
“My attitude?” Felix almost scoffed. He remained calm and collected in remembrance of the power dynamic.
“If you have changed by the time we reach land—which by my calculations will be soon—I will offer you the opportunity to start anew.” The captain looked at him with a firm expression, one that was aware of the power he held. Yet there was lenience as well, one that didn't want to sail the seas alone.
“So what, we’ll start over?”
“Precisely,” the captain said while nodding once. “You can return to being a crewmate, and we can enjoy the island and whatever other voyages we take afterward.”
“Other voyages?” Felix asked, the words pulling up the recesses of his stomach abruptly. “You plan to continue on?”
“That depends,” the captain replied. “If I don’t like what I see on the island, I’ll set my course further North.”
“Aren’t you the least worried that you’ll end up like me if you go further?” Felix asked.
“No,” the captain shook his head confidently. “I’ve faced my share of storms, Felix. I can certainly take more.”
Felix wanted to argue against his logic, knowing fully the power of even the simplest of the ocean’s tantrums, but decided against it.
“What will you do if I choose to stay on the island?” Felix asked, seeing that this question was the most likely outcome.
The question circled the captain a while, his thick brows carrying it as he considered a response.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” the captain replied. “If you choose to stay on the island, never see home again, that’s your choice.”
Felix was silent as he processed the answer. If he sailed further with the captain, Felix was sure he would never make it home. The further they sailed, the greater their chances were of destruction. But if he stayed on the island, he would never make it home either. But to stay on the island was to stay alive, which was better than endless sailing or death.
“But I must ask,” the captain began, picking up the conversation. “You would really choose to live on an island, all alone, than sail on?”
Felix looked him in the eyes, considering his question.
“No boat is meant to sail forever, Edmund. Every voyage must have an end,” he answered.
It was two days later that the captain’s voice rang loud and clear from the deck, “land! Land!” it cried. Felix’s eyes widened and his heart beat quickly; he’d given up on land and any hope of escaping the boat. Over time, the captain had seen fit to untie him, and Felix had submitted to following the destructive course.
“Land!” the captain cried again, and Felix raced to the deck. “There she is!” Edmund cried, pointing a triumphant finger to a strip of land. It was small, not despairingly small, but not by any means a civilized island. It had a small forest and a hill, and birds could be seen flying about it.
“Didn’t I tell you we’d make it?!” the captain whispered.
Felix didn’t answer, his perception of the island was much different than the captain’s. What he saw was a place hardly capable of supporting life, at least, not a thriving life. It looked more like the sort of location one would be marooned at rather than a place one could call home. And home was what he needed.
The captain saw it as Felix had begun to understand he had always seen the Island of Mirth: a stopping point on the quest for success.
“We’ll find what we came for, Felix,” the captain said eagerly, “and then you’ll see the merit in sailing with me!”
They neared a beach, the captain coming parallel to it and then calling for Felix to send out the anchor. Once situated, they set to securing the boat safely while they went ashore. The captain’s excitement was rampant, almost encouraging Felix to share it. But something held him back, something in the barrenness of the island’s beaches. The way seagulls picked and dug at the sand as if they were still looking for something after years of living on the island. It prevented him from hoping, from believing that the captain would be satisfied, and furthermore, that he would be satisfied. Yet he knew that the island was ground, and wouldn’t sink or be crushed beneath waves. It was simple and scarce, yet solid and trustworthy.
The two of them boarded a very small rowboat and began to make their way to shore.
“I’ve searched for so long,” the captain said, more to himself than to Felix. “I’ve planned, saved, and sailed miles of sea to reach this.”
Felix, facing the sailboat, saw the shark’s fin and gray mass beneath the surface, patiently waiting for their return. It was almost as if it knew they would be back only a few moments later.
By the time they struck the beach and pulled the boat ashore, the captain was giddy, grinning continuously and murmuring to himself, completely separate from Felix. He eagerly began to wander the island, Felix distantly following.
They walked the beach for some time before entering the forest, the captain’s eyes darting here and there for the slightest hint of mirth. Felix’s eyes searched as well, but for items different than the captain’s. He saw plants, berries, coconuts. He heard birds, saw small creatures, and glimpsed fish offshore. He saw shade beneath the trees and noticed a still pool of freshwater. These features had value to him, no mirth, but value nonetheless.
“I don’t understand,” the captain muttered after several hours of traversing the island. “I—” he turned around, “I’ve found it, but there’s nothing here!”
He kicked a stick lying across his path and sat down on a rock. Felix watched as the captain laid his head in his hands and mutter softly to himself.
“Maybe—”
“No!” the captain suddenly said, standing and pointing to Felix, his finger as dangerous as the gun had been. “Don’t you start!”
Felix was silent, but he clenched his jaw, knowing that he was right.
“Maybe we veered off course,” the captain suggested, “turned a bit East or West.”
“Edmund,” Felix began, “this is the Island of Mirth.”
“It can’t be!” the captain shouted, gesturing to the trees and then taking up a handful of sand. “This,” he shook the sand and threw it down, “does this look like mirth to you?”
“No, it—” Felix stopped suddenly as a shrill wavering cry wafted through the sky. The sound captivated him, and he turned his eyes to see where it had come from. His eyes landed on a bird, larger than a gull and identical to the one that had been trapped on the boat. “Look!” he said suddenly pointing to it.
The captain turned to see it as well, his expression much less awed than Felix’s.
“Just a bird,” he muttered, “there are dozens of them.”
“No, not just a bird,” Felix murmured as it soared toward the small hill. Felix moved out from under the trees to see it better. The captain’s voice was silenced as his attention was fully drawn to the creature returning from the sea.
It circled the hill a moment and then landed. Its call was echoed by two others, one of identical strength and volume, and another weaker and quieter.
“Look,” Felix said as the heads of another adult bird and one of a smaller bird peaked up to greet the grounded wanderer.
They squawked, clicked, and grunted, seemingly eager to be reunited with the prodigal bird. Felix watched in awe, unaware that the captain was shouting at him. He saw it now, he saw that he had to go South, that he couldn’t stay on the island or sail with the captain. Mirth was yet obtainable.
“I need to sail South,” he whispered to himself.
“Not in my boat,” the captain answered, bringing Felix back to his surroundings.
“Captain,” Felix turned to him and almost took him by the shoulders, “let me at least have the rowboat,” he said. “I’ll ask for nothing more.”
“You daft?” the captain scoffed. “You can’t go back in a rowboat!”
“And you can’t find what you’re looking for,” Felix answered.
The captain was silent, and grim anger stirred in his eyes.
“It doesn’t exist, captain,” Felix continued. “At least, not in the way you think it does.”
“What are you—”
“This is the Island of Mirth,” Felix interrupted, “only the mirth here is different than what you imagined.”
The captain scoffed.
“What then, the birds and trees?”
“Yes—maybe—I don’t know!” Felix answered, a sudden smile lighting across him. “But it isn’t wealth, prestige, or discovery” he continued, “it’s—” he picked up a handful of sand and gripped it tightly, “it’s this.” He pointed to a tree, “it’s that,” he pointed to the birds, “it’s them!”
“The sun has made you daft!” the captain said, turning back to the beach.
“No Edmund,” Felix followed quickly, much more energetic than he’d been the entire journey. “I see it now, it’s all so clear.”
The captain ignored him and made his way to the rowboat. “I’m sailing on immediately,” he said, “you can join me or rot here.”
“Please,” Felix stepped in front of the captain, stopping him and forcing him to face him. “Please, let me take the rowboat.”
The captain didn’t answer for a moment, his eyes searching Felix’s for sanity.
“It’ll be wasted,” he said, “you’ll die within days.”
“Maybe,” Felix nodded, “but maybe I won’t. I’ve been given a second chance captain,” he said, and then added, “or a third or however many.
“This isn’t a second chance,” the captain argued, “this is sailing away from your purpose!”
“No,” Felix shook his head confidently, “for the first time, I'm sailing toward my purpose. I’ll face a myriad of troubles sailing South, but I’ll gladly face them all now that I’ve got my course.”
“You’ll die,” the captain added.
“At least I’ll have made a noble effort.”
Edmund stopped at these words, his eyes lowering to the rowboat.
He then fixed him with a confused expression, but something within him had changed. Felix almost wondered if the captain doubted his own course for a moment.
“You’re a fool, Felix,” he said. “But I won’t argue with you. Take the rowboat, only help me get to my boat first.”
Felix’s heart leapt, and he thanked the captain with a firm handshake. The two climbed in the rowboat and Felix brought them parallel to the sailboat. The captain climbed aboard and then looked down at Felix.
“I wish you luck,” he said. “And a swift end when the time comes.”
“Likewise,” Felix replied, knowing that his fate would likely be no different than the captain’s.
The shark seemed to understand that there was about to be a separation and began to pace between the two boats, unable to decide which to follow.
“Farewell Edmund,” Felix said as he began to row away. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
The captain nodded.
The shark turned itself away from Felix and began to circle the sailboat, ready to follow it when Edmund departed. The gray shape left Felix as if it had seen his resolve and knew that Edmund was a more likely meal.
Felix fixed his mind on his course then, setting to gathering supplies from the island for a journey to the Southern horizon. He looked at the birds, at the rest the wanderer now had beside the other two and knew that he was on the right course.
The next morning he boarded the rowboat with his supplies and embarked South, his eyes eagerly fixed on the Southern horizon.
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