[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
were ineffective, and there was nothing for it but to wait and see if it went away.
The next day, eight of the sixteen people we had on board came down with a severe fever. Often
delirious, they could do little but lie in their beds and either shiver or sweat profusely.
Again, none of our medications did these men any good, and their temperatures grew alarmingly
high.
The day after, four more people were down with the fever. There were no longer enough of us to
manage the boat, take care of the sick, and map the shoreline. When I felt myself getting light-
headed, I had the boat tied up to one of the trees in the middle of the lake. There was nothing left that
we could do but go to bed and see whether or not we would survive.
The fever came and went for many days. Most of the time, you were flat on your back, unable to
move. Occasionally, you felt almost normal, for a while, and then you could get up and help out
with those who were more badly off.
Only Jane stayed healthy, and I think that without her we all would have died.
I don't know how long we stayed tied to that tree. I lost all sense of time, and often there was no
one awake enough to keep the logbook up to date. Jane by this time was speaking a mixture of
Polish and Pidgin, but no one had even begun to teach her to read or write. As it was, she did
yeoman service keeping us in water and food.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
From the Journal of Josip Sobieski
WRITTEN MARCH 10, 1251, CONCERNING DATE UNKNOWN, 1250
AFTER I don't know how many weeks or months, I awoke feeling almost healthy and certainly
hungry. I called out, but no one answered. The room was dark, more so than the lowered blinds could
account for. The bed wasn't level. As I looked around in the gloom, it seemed the floor had an
undulating quality about it, and that the walls were no longer straight.
Sure that I was still delirious, I closed my eyes again and slept.
When I awoke once more, the room was somewhat lighter, but all else was the same. The floor
really was bumpy and bent, the screened walls were far from straight, and the ceiling sagged.
There were strange forest sounds about me, and I was sure the boat was no longer afloat.
I went to remove the sheet that covered me, and for the first time noticed my hand. It looked ancient
and wrinkled, and my fingernails were incredibly long, longer than they had ever been, longer even
than those that some European highborn ladies cultivate to prove they never have to work.
I fumbled for my bayonet, on the nightstand, to trim my nails with. When I pulled it from the
sheath, it was rusty. I dropped it, and it knocked a deep dent in the floor.
Had months gone by? Years?
I touched my face, my beard, and found it to be very long, longer than my fingers. Before I fell
sick, I had been cleanshaven.
I called out again, and again, no one answered.
Was I truly alone? Could all the others be dead? Surely they would never abandon me!
With great effort, I sat up in the bed and twisted so my feet were on the floor. I marveled at how
thin my thighs had become. I felt my chest, and could feel every rib under my fingers.
I stood, shaking, and slowly made my way to the kitchen, expecting to see the remains of bodies
scattered around. It was not as bad as I feared. Most of the beds in the common room were gone.
There were four beds left, and they showed signs of use.
The kitchen was untidy, the breakfast dishes unwashed, but the scraps on them were no more than a
few hours old. There was cold food left in a pot. I found a spoon, sat down, and ate. I drank a canteen
filled with water, and then stumbled to the door to relieve myself in the latrine at the stern. The
forest came right up to the doorway. There was no sign of the lake that we steamed in on. The
Magnificent Maude was sitting on the forest floor, her formerly straight lines all bent and slumped,
and she was in the process of rotting away. Ants swarmed over the hull.
I fought my way through the thick bushes to the latrine, only to find vegetation growing up
through the toilet seat. I ripped the leaves away and sat down.
None of this made any sense at all.
My ears hummed with bird sounds, insect sounds, and what might be the distant scream of a
monkey. Then, in the far background, I heard what had to be the regular thumping of an axe. It was a
man, swinging an axe. Some of my crew were still alive, they were out there somewhere, doing
something important.
Exhausted, but greatly relieved, I went slowly back to my bed and fell asleep.
I awoke to find Tomaz standing above me. He was dirty, bearded, and except for a
silver cross hanging around his neck, he was completely naked. He had lost a third
of his body weight since I had seen him last, but despite everything, I could see that he
was healthy, or at least getting that way.
"Are you feeling better, sir?"
I said that I thought so, and asked how long I had been away.
"We are not sure, sir. For a while there, there was no one mobile and sane enough
to keep up the log. Several months, at least."
I asked how many of us were still alive.
He sat down on the edge of my bed.
"There are five of us left, sir. You, me, Jane, Gregor, and Antoni. The other eleven
are dead. They weren't even buried properly. The two priests were the first to die, so
none of them were given extreme unction. Jane was alone through the worst of it,
and there wasn't anything she could do but throw the bodies overboard. That was
before the water went away."
Seeing the quizzical expression on my face, he continued.
"We weren't sailing across a lake, sir. We were going over a flooded forest. In a few
months, once the rains stopped, the water all drained away and the forest became dry
land again. It was just as well, because by then the boat was sinking, just rotting away.
Something in this land doesn't like our northern lumber. Even the handles on our
knives and axes have had to be replaced. Some of the local timber is pretty good,
though. Jane has been a big help, there, since the trees around here are a lot like those
around her home."
I asked about the chopping I'd heard earlier.
"There is a fair-sized river about a mile from here. Jane is showing us how to make a dugout
canoe, a boat of the sort her people use. You probably heard us working on that. We have been
trying to spend half our time on it. The rest is needed to find food. Most of our stores rotted, of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
were ineffective, and there was nothing for it but to wait and see if it went away.
The next day, eight of the sixteen people we had on board came down with a severe fever. Often
delirious, they could do little but lie in their beds and either shiver or sweat profusely.
Again, none of our medications did these men any good, and their temperatures grew alarmingly
high.
The day after, four more people were down with the fever. There were no longer enough of us to
manage the boat, take care of the sick, and map the shoreline. When I felt myself getting light-
headed, I had the boat tied up to one of the trees in the middle of the lake. There was nothing left that
we could do but go to bed and see whether or not we would survive.
The fever came and went for many days. Most of the time, you were flat on your back, unable to
move. Occasionally, you felt almost normal, for a while, and then you could get up and help out
with those who were more badly off.
Only Jane stayed healthy, and I think that without her we all would have died.
I don't know how long we stayed tied to that tree. I lost all sense of time, and often there was no
one awake enough to keep the logbook up to date. Jane by this time was speaking a mixture of
Polish and Pidgin, but no one had even begun to teach her to read or write. As it was, she did
yeoman service keeping us in water and food.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
From the Journal of Josip Sobieski
WRITTEN MARCH 10, 1251, CONCERNING DATE UNKNOWN, 1250
AFTER I don't know how many weeks or months, I awoke feeling almost healthy and certainly
hungry. I called out, but no one answered. The room was dark, more so than the lowered blinds could
account for. The bed wasn't level. As I looked around in the gloom, it seemed the floor had an
undulating quality about it, and that the walls were no longer straight.
Sure that I was still delirious, I closed my eyes again and slept.
When I awoke once more, the room was somewhat lighter, but all else was the same. The floor
really was bumpy and bent, the screened walls were far from straight, and the ceiling sagged.
There were strange forest sounds about me, and I was sure the boat was no longer afloat.
I went to remove the sheet that covered me, and for the first time noticed my hand. It looked ancient
and wrinkled, and my fingernails were incredibly long, longer than they had ever been, longer even
than those that some European highborn ladies cultivate to prove they never have to work.
I fumbled for my bayonet, on the nightstand, to trim my nails with. When I pulled it from the
sheath, it was rusty. I dropped it, and it knocked a deep dent in the floor.
Had months gone by? Years?
I touched my face, my beard, and found it to be very long, longer than my fingers. Before I fell
sick, I had been cleanshaven.
I called out again, and again, no one answered.
Was I truly alone? Could all the others be dead? Surely they would never abandon me!
With great effort, I sat up in the bed and twisted so my feet were on the floor. I marveled at how
thin my thighs had become. I felt my chest, and could feel every rib under my fingers.
I stood, shaking, and slowly made my way to the kitchen, expecting to see the remains of bodies
scattered around. It was not as bad as I feared. Most of the beds in the common room were gone.
There were four beds left, and they showed signs of use.
The kitchen was untidy, the breakfast dishes unwashed, but the scraps on them were no more than a
few hours old. There was cold food left in a pot. I found a spoon, sat down, and ate. I drank a canteen
filled with water, and then stumbled to the door to relieve myself in the latrine at the stern. The
forest came right up to the doorway. There was no sign of the lake that we steamed in on. The
Magnificent Maude was sitting on the forest floor, her formerly straight lines all bent and slumped,
and she was in the process of rotting away. Ants swarmed over the hull.
I fought my way through the thick bushes to the latrine, only to find vegetation growing up
through the toilet seat. I ripped the leaves away and sat down.
None of this made any sense at all.
My ears hummed with bird sounds, insect sounds, and what might be the distant scream of a
monkey. Then, in the far background, I heard what had to be the regular thumping of an axe. It was a
man, swinging an axe. Some of my crew were still alive, they were out there somewhere, doing
something important.
Exhausted, but greatly relieved, I went slowly back to my bed and fell asleep.
I awoke to find Tomaz standing above me. He was dirty, bearded, and except for a
silver cross hanging around his neck, he was completely naked. He had lost a third
of his body weight since I had seen him last, but despite everything, I could see that he
was healthy, or at least getting that way.
"Are you feeling better, sir?"
I said that I thought so, and asked how long I had been away.
"We are not sure, sir. For a while there, there was no one mobile and sane enough
to keep up the log. Several months, at least."
I asked how many of us were still alive.
He sat down on the edge of my bed.
"There are five of us left, sir. You, me, Jane, Gregor, and Antoni. The other eleven
are dead. They weren't even buried properly. The two priests were the first to die, so
none of them were given extreme unction. Jane was alone through the worst of it,
and there wasn't anything she could do but throw the bodies overboard. That was
before the water went away."
Seeing the quizzical expression on my face, he continued.
"We weren't sailing across a lake, sir. We were going over a flooded forest. In a few
months, once the rains stopped, the water all drained away and the forest became dry
land again. It was just as well, because by then the boat was sinking, just rotting away.
Something in this land doesn't like our northern lumber. Even the handles on our
knives and axes have had to be replaced. Some of the local timber is pretty good,
though. Jane has been a big help, there, since the trees around here are a lot like those
around her home."
I asked about the chopping I'd heard earlier.
"There is a fair-sized river about a mile from here. Jane is showing us how to make a dugout
canoe, a boat of the sort her people use. You probably heard us working on that. We have been
trying to spend half our time on it. The rest is needed to find food. Most of our stores rotted, of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]