Ivan Yefremov - The Land of Foam

Hundreds of people gathered on the shore to bid farewell to the parting ships. The Sons of the Wind were in a great hurry; the sun was already setting, and for some reason of their own they were determined to set out that day. The loaded ships were slowly rocking on the swell beyond the reefs. Amongst the other goods lay the gift of Kidogo’s people — payment for the return of the former slaves to their own countries. To reach the ships they had to wade breast-high through the water that covered a sand-bank. The chiefs of the Sons of the Wind held back to talk with the Negro chiefs, asking them to prepare a greater number of goods for the next year, swearing that they would arrive at the appointed time.

Cavius stood beside Kidogo, holding in one hand the huge bundle that contained the skin and skull of the terrible gishu. As a parting gift Kidogo gave Cavius and Pandion two big throwing-knives. This implement of war, invented by the Tengrela people, consisted of a large sheet of bronze divided into five fingers, four of them crescent-shaped with sharpened edges and the fifth long and thin with a horn handle on it. This weapon, when hurled by able hands, whistled through the air and killed its victim at twenty cubits distance.

With a heavy heart Pandion looked round him, examining his new fellow-travellers and masters. Their harsh, wind-burned faces were the colour of dark brick; their undipped beards were tangled on their cheeks; in their heavy gait, in the grim folds of their foreheads and lips there was none of the kind-heartedness that was typical of Kidogo’s people. Nevertheless Pandion trusted them, perhaps because the Sons of the Wind, like he, were loyal to the sea, lived in concord with it and loved it. Or perhaps it was because he and Cavius met familiar words in their speech.

The Sons of the Wind willingly consented to take the former slaves with them for the payment offered. Kidogo’s uncle, Yorumefu, even bargained for a reduction of six tusks and two baskets of medicinal nuts, which were loaded on to the ships as the property of Cavius, Pandion and the Libyans. The Sons of the Wind separated their passengers against their will — six Libyans on one ship, Pandion, Cavius and the other three Libyans on another.

The harbour of the Sons of the Wind was near the Gates of the Mists, a tremendous distance from Kidogo’s country, no less than two months sailing in the most favourable weather. Cavius and Pandion were dismayed at this; they had had no conception of the enormous distance and realized that the Sons of the Wind were men as skilled in their battle against the sea as were the Elephant People in their battle against the plains of Africa. Pandion still had to sail almost the whole length of the Green Sea from the harbour of the Sons of the Wind to his own country; but this was a distance that was little more than a third of that from Kidogo’s village to the harbour of the Sons of the Wind. The Sons of the Wind pacified Pandion and Cavius with the assurance that Phoenician ships often came to them from Tyre, Crete, Cyprus and the Gulf of Sidra.

As Pandion stood on the shore, however, he was not thinking of that. In his confusion he stared at the sea as though he were trying to measure the long journey before him and then turned to Kidogo. The commander of the fleet of ships, a man with a circlet of solid gold in his curly hair, shouted loudly, ordering them to get aboard.

Kidogo seized Pandion and Cavius by their hands, making no effort to hide his tears.

“Good-bye for ever, Pandion, and you, Cavius,” whispered the Negro. “When you are there, — in your distant country, remember Kidogo who truly loves you both. Re: member our days of slavery in Tha-Quem, when our friendship was our mainstay; remember the days of the insurrection, the flight and the great march to the sea…I shall always be with you in my thoughts. You are leaving me for ever, you who have become dearer to me than life itself.” The Negro’s voice grew stronger. “I shall believe that the time will come when people will learn not to be afraid of the expanses of the sea. The sea will unite them… But I shall never see you again… Oh, great is my grief…” Bitter sobs shook Kidogo’s huge body.

The friends joined hands for the last time as the Sons of the Wind called to them from the ships.

Pandion’s handclasp slackened, Cavius turned away. They stepped into the warm water and, sliding over the slippery stones, hurried to the ships.

Pandion stepped on to the deck of a ship for the first time in many years; he was flooded with memories of the days of happy sailing in times long past — no more than fleeting thoughts, however, for the memories soon disappeared. All his thoughts were concentrated on the tall black figure standing aloof from the others on the seashore at the very edge of the water. The oars splashed, their rhythmic beat grew faster, and the ship passed out beyond the reefs. The seamen raised the huge sail, and the wind carried the vessel before it.

The figures of the people on the shore grew smaller and smaller; and soon Kidogo, lost to his friends for ever, was no more than a tiny black dot. The deepening twilight hid the coast-line, but the dark mountain ridge hung gloomily over the stern of the ships. Cavius wiped away a big tear, and it was not the first. A huge bat that flew out from the coast, parallel to which the ships were travelling, brushed Pandion’s face with its wing. That light, silky touch affected Pandion like the last word of farewell from the land he was leaving.

It was with a sense of dismay that Pandion parted from his Negro friend and from the land in which he had gone through so much, where he was leaving part of his heart behind. He had a vague feeling that in future days of weariness or sorrow, at home in his own country, Africa would appear before his eyes beckoning and beautiful, and that only because it was lost to him for ever, like Iruma. In abandoning everything that had become part of his very life, in turning his face and his heart towards Hellas, Pandion was stricken with doubt. What awaited him there, after so long an absence?

How would he settle down amongst his own people, he who was returning a different man from the one who had left? Who would he find amongst the living? Thessa — was she still alive, and did she still love him? Or?…

The ships, headed westwards, dived wearily into the troughs of the waves. The Sons of the Wind had told their passengers that they would sail westwards for a whole month before turning north. The mighty breath of the ocean ruffled Pandion’s hair. The taciturn sailors were unhurriedly busy at their work beside him. The Sons of the Wind, descendants of the ancient mariners of Crete, seemed more alien to Pandion than the black-skinned inhabitants of Africa. The Hellene squeezed the bag that hung on his breast — it contained the stone on which was carved the image of Kidogo — and joined his companions huddled together sadly in a corner of a strange ship…

A round, orange-coloured moon rose from behind the mountains. In its light the ocean, the Great Arc that encircled all the lands of the world, was furrowed with black hollows over which the brightly lit caps of the waves glided smoothly on their way. The tiny vessels sailed bravely on, pointing their sharp prows straight up at the star-filled sky amidst showers of silvery spray, then racing downwards into the dull roar of the sombre depths. To Pandion this seemed like his own life story. Far away ahead of him the opalescent crests of the waves merged into one bright path of light, the stars descended and rocked on the surface of the water just as they did by the shores of his native Hellas. The ocean had accepted these courageous men, had consented to carry them on its bosom over an immeasurable distance — to their homes…