FAIGAN'S DREAM THE FIRST DRAFT
I watched in wonder as Faigan Shipe bailed and bailed. Did he really think we had a chance? It had been three days since Magdaline went down and somehow we ended up in the leaky dinghy together, the only survivors. The fierce storm had long gone and now the sun cast its cursed rays down on our blistered skin. The ocean was calm and not a glimpse of land could be seen in any direction.
Faigan tossed one last pailful of water over the side and then plopped down with a faint splash, completely exhausted. At first I had felt guilty about not bailing as much and wouldnt stop until he did. But now I would just lay there waiting for the sea queens comfortable embrace to take me away. I remember waking up the night before choking on sea water to find myself practically floating. I dared not make a sound in fear of waking him and tried to go back to sleep. He did wake up, however, shouting frantically and soon I found myself reluctantly splashing water over the side with him.
He never breathed a word to me up until he told his story. I never thought he particularly liked me while on board the Magdaline. A few months back I had two tuna on the lines and I was the only one on deck. I shouted for help and when I looked over my shoulder, there he was peeking out from below. He quickly popped back down but I know it was him because I could see the brown curls and the bald head. Such a peculiar display. I was angry but I never said anything. I ended up losing both lines and the captain had a conniption fit but I never said anything.
It was rather eerie sitting there watching him bail like a madman. At times I wanted to scream out Why? Why are you prolonging this agony? What do you have to live for that I dont?. But this time when he plopped down, I could tell he had mustered his last bail. There was no longer any luster in his dark penetrating eyes. He lay there leaning with his back against the bow. His long pointy nose and bald spot were bright red and his lips where blistered all over. His tattered, salt stained rags rustled around his wiry frame from the faint eastern breeze. I couldnt imagine a man such as he having anything to live for. Rumors had it that he used to be a sea rover off the eastern coast of Indonesia.
I lay my head back again and dozed off for a little before I heard his voice. At first I didnt know what to make of what I had just heard. I thought perhaps Id dreamt it.
I killed a man, he said again.
I slowly tilted my head down to find him staring at me with his arms crossed and toes pointing up out of the water. This was the first time we ever made eye contact in the dinghy. It was difficult to hold his stare. His dark beady eyes seemed to penetrate my very soul.
Who?, I managed to get out after a long awkward pause.
It turns out the rumors were true and that he had indeed done some looting off the coasts of Malaysia. He had been the captain of a small schooner of seven men who at nightfall preyed on merchant ships docked at villages. One night they happened upon three ships that appeared to be unmanned. Dropping anchor a hundred yards out, five of them crept in on a raft with sacks in their hands and daggers in their belts. Faigan gave himself the ship of his choice and told the others to split up into pairs. He climbed the anchorline, slid over the stern, and froze for a moment, straining to distinguish what the sound was that fell upon his ears. It sounded like music coming from the shore and scampering around to get a better look he saw campfires on the beach and many people dancing and laughing.
I heard drums and......and flutes, he said, looking up from the pool we shared and into my eyes as if expecting a reaction from me. Not finding one he began gazing down at the water again and continued his story, his arms folded like this the whole while.
Not a soul was on board and he went through all the quarters with ease. Finding a few trinkets but nothing of any real value, he blew out his candle and made to leave. But as he was climbing the stairs, he stopped short, hearing footsteps walking along the deck. He quickly ducked into the one of the rooms and leaned against the wall, listening intently.
He paused at this point in telling his tale when he suddenly realized that the water was well above our wastes and the edges of the dinghy couldnt even be seen at its center. For a split second it looked as if he were going to start bailing again but then he relaxed and continued.
Someone came down the steps and lit a candle and walked directly into the same room Faigan had chosen to hide in. He was a large bearded man in a hooded robe and Faigan noticed something sparkling around his neck. Before the man could react, Faigan had a dagger buried in his chest and ripped the chain from his neck. As he dashed along the deck and down the anchor line, he could hear the flutes still playing. Only when he was safely aboard his vessel with his men did he look at the chain.
At this point he looked directly into my eyes and said, The chain was pure gold and at its end hung the royal crest of King Raphold the Third. At first this meant nothing to me. Ill admit I can be a little slow at times. But then all of a sudden the realization struck me. My eyes widened and Faigan let out a sigh of relief when he saw my expression. It was a lot like the expression you all have now. Yes, the man on that boat was no other than the great Riggeon Thistledown - the famous man who traveled up and down the coast, spreading good fortune and cheer under the kings fellowship.
The dinghy was almost completely submerged then and I began to tread water. The solved mystery of Riggeon Thistledowns death gave me a burst of energy and I felt like I could stay afloat forever. For the first time since the Magdeline went down I had hope and a reason to go on. Faigan stood still and I could tell his feet were still touching the bottom of the dinghy. When the sea went above his mouth he didnt lift his head. He just stared off into the distance. The wrinkles had left his forehead and his face looked relaxed and at peace.
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