Stefán Máni - The Ship

Down on C-deck he runs right into the arms of the captain.

‘Christ, you startled me!’ says Sæli, blinking at Guðmundur, who is studying the crewman’s face, as if to assure himself that Sæli is a man of flesh and blood and not something else.

‘What’s going on here?’ asks the captain, letting go of the breathless crewman. ‘Have you lost your mind, boy?’

‘Didn’t you hear? Didn’t you hear? says Sæli, catching his breath as he thinks back and tries to remember what he thought he had heard. ‘Didn’t you hear… a noise?’

‘I heard you shouting!’ says the captain, clearing his throat. ‘I thought something… that something had happened!’

‘I’m going crazy!’ says Sæli, staring desperately into the captain’s eyes. ‘That’s what’s happened – I’ve lost my mind!’

‘No,’ says the captain with a sigh. ‘You’ve not gone crazy. Not yet, at least.’

‘But I heard…’

‘Don’t listen with your mind, Sæli, lad, because your mind is tired and confused and can’t tell the difference between right and wrong,’ says Guðmundur, clapping the seaman on the back in the dark corridor. ‘Listen with your heart, rather, because it knows the difference between truth and a lie!’

19 December

Jónas is lying under his doona and three woollen blankets in the bed in his E-deck cabin, mumbling something incomprehensible in his troubled sleep. The cabin is dark and frozen, and the second mate’s breath sticks to the air and turns into ice needles that, little by little, become small icicles.

Waaahaaa…

Jónas twitches, blinks his eyes and lifts his deathly pale head off the ice cold pillow.

Waaahaaa…

‘Yes, okay,’ he murmurs, crawling out from under his doona and blankets. ‘Daddy’s coming.’

He gets up and stands unsteadily in his long underwear, jumper and woollen socks. Then he sets off like a robot: four steps forwards then five to the left, straight into the wall by the door. He hits it hard, which wakes him from his half sleep. He puts his right hand to his face and feels around in the dark with his left.

Waaahaaa…

‘María love! María!’ Jónas calls as he feels around the cheekbone and jawbone on the right side of his face. ‘Our daughter’s awake! Can you…’

María?

But María’s dead. I’m not at home…

The ship!

Waaahaaa…

‘Hello! What? Where?’ says Jónas and crosses like a drunk man to the door, where he turns the light switch up and down to no avail.

No electricity!

What’s that noise? Who’s crying? Is there a baby on board? Of course there’s no baby on board. Is he going crazy?

Waaahaaa…

‘Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!’ says Jónas, walking in circles in the dark and scratching at his ears until the blood runs down into the neck of his sweater. ‘Leave me alone! Do you hear me? Leave me alone!’

20 December

It’s ten to six in the afternoon and a prayer meeting is about to start in the officers’ mess. Captain Guðmundur is sitting at the end of the table away from the door, Sæli to his right and Jónas to his left.

‘Dear friends, let us pray,’ says the captain. He folds his hands and lowers his head. ‘Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from—’

Waaahaaa…

The captain stops in the middle of the prayer when the bloody crying starts to sound deep in his head.

Not now! Not now!

‘And lead us not into temptation,’ he says with a cough, ‘but deliver us from—’

Waaahaaa…

The captain opens his eyes and looks at his companions, who look back at him above their folded hands.

‘Do you hear?’ asks Sæli hesitantly, attempting to still his trembling lips.

‘I hear,’ says Jónas hoarsely, looking at Sæli with eyes heavy with sleeplessness and despair.

‘What is it?’ asks Sæli, with a terrified look at the captain.

‘I don’t know,’ murmurs the captain, closing the Bible on the table in front of him. ‘I’ve searched everywhere.’

‘Down in the engine room too?’ asks Jónas.

‘Down in the engine room too.’

‘And?’ says Sæli hopefully.

‘Nothing,’ says the captain. ‘Actually, Skuggi wouldn’t go down there with me, but I didn’t find anything. It’s as if the sounds were coming from somewhere outside.’

‘From outside?’ asks Sæli, his bloodshot eyes widening.

‘Yes,’ says Guðmundur, rubbing his temples. ‘Or from inside. What do I know?’

‘From inside?’ Jónas says and tries to swallow, but his mouth is utterly dry.

Waaahaaa…

‘I can’t stand it!’ says the captain, standing up. ‘Let’s go outside for a bit.’

18:05

They stand close together in the stern of the ship, turn their backs to the wind and say the Lord’s Prayer together, the captain in the middle with the crewman and the second mate one on each side.

‘…the power and the glory for ever and ever, Amen!’ says Guðmundur, making the sign of the cross before lifting his head and opening his eyes.

Silence.

‘But what about that crying?’ asks Sæli, sticking his hands in the pockets of his parka.

‘Could it maybe be an evil spirit?’ Jónas asks and pulls his woollen cap down over his ears.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ says the captain, holding his Bible tightly with both hands and pressing it to his abdomen, ‘maybe it’s God’s way of answering our prayers?’

‘How’s that?’ says Sæli doubtfully.

‘We need a miracle if we’re going to get away from here,’ says the captain. ‘But miracles don’t happen every day. It may be God can’t save us.’

‘God is all powerful!’ says Jónas, giving Guðmundur a dirty look.

‘Of course!’ says the captain with a faint smile. ‘But isn’t it asking too much to expect him to stretch down here and steer us clear of this—’

‘Hell?’ Sæli completes the thought and chews his frostbitten lips.

‘The crying we hear may be the crying of the saviour,’ says the captain, straightening up. ‘The Christ child himself whom God gave to mankind. All we need to do is make the child welcome. “Suffer the little children to come unto me for of such is the kingdom of God”, said Jesus. I say: receive Christ in the form of a little child and we are saved!’

‘But there is no child,’ says Jónas, irritated.

‘The child is here,’ says the captain, pointing at the second mate’s chest. ‘Receive the Christ child and you are saved! Your body will die but it is dust alone! God says: “Receive my son and I will receive your soul”.’

Silence.

‘I’d say you’re losing it,’ mutters Jónas, giving the captain a sideways look.

‘No, Jónas. If anything, I’ve never been healthier than I am right now—’

‘Look! There’s a man there!’ shouts Sæli, pointing over the gunwale on the port side and along the ship, where a dark shape comes walking out of the fog.

‘Who?’ says the captain, shading his eyes.

‘The gangplank is down!’ says Jónas, pointing to port, where the top of the gangplank is sticking in through the gate in the railing. ‘It must be Satan.’