Michel Montecrossa - Tarana and the island of immortality

In any case, how could they have noticed a tiny fire when they hadn’t spotted an entire island!

In the end I just unrolled my blanket and wrapped myself up, exhausted: I still had a piece of hardtack from the ship, which I ate with a mango I had picked along the way.

I laid my head on my arm and pulled up the blanket as far as possible to keep out the mosquitoes that were swarming around me. As I drifted quickly towards sleep I noticed something strange: the mosquitoes were flying very close to my face, but just before they landed to bite me they seemed to be surrounded by a flash of light, whereupon they moved away again!

However, before I could reflect on this unusual phenomenon, I had fallen into a deep sleep.

When I awoke the sun had just come up. The sky was clear and from the spot where I lay the first thing I saw was the large lake on whose shores I had emerged the previous day. It was somehow difficult to reconcile my waking state with the dream I had been having, which involved me tossing about in a narrow bunk on a ship. So I remained where I was and let my eyes wander over the morning landscape. The lake was very big indeed, and I could now make out its well-balanced form far better than I had been able to from the shore. I guessed the diameter to some 10 kilometers or more, and it was surrounded by jungle that spread out over the island. My eyes followed the green carpet towards the mountain, which now seemed more like a mountain chain whose highest peak I reckoned to be some 4000 meters high.

As far as I could see, the jungle seemed to extend a long way into the island’s interior before fading away into a hilly landscape, behind which a savanna spread out to the foot of the mountain. I concluded that the mysterious island therefore hosted a tremendous variety of life.

The largest peak was capped in snow and exhibited the typical form of a volcano.

As I lay therefore absorbing these impressions of my environment my memory suddenly returned.

“The Mayflower II,” shot through my mind.

I was about to jump up when I spotted a well-ordered pile of bananas, coconuts and other fruits lying not far from my camp. On it was perched a shama thrush, which was looking at me intently.

I stood up abruptly. Fearfully I looked around. There was nothing threatening in sight. I looked over at the pile of fruit again. To my surprise the shama thrush had not been disturbed by my sudden movement and was inspecting me calmly.

Something emanated from the bird that made me feel at peace. I even had the feeling that I was welcome to eat the fruit!

But again I jumped back, suddenly beset by the idea that I was already falling victim to the fits of loneliness experienced by shipwrecked souls which lead them to dangerous acts and even into madness.

The shama thrush moved its head slightly. It seemed to be nodding to me as if to say, “Don’t be afraid.”

At that moment something jumped onto my shoulder. I was shocked and yet it was a familiar sensation. It was the flying squirrel that had shown me the cleft in the rock face!

I decided to ignore my racing thoughts and simply accept these strange and mysterious occurrences.

I slowly approached the coconuts, bananas and other fruits. I was filled with a penetrating sensation that also somehow gave me a sense of release – the desire to completely surrender myself to a momentary impulse as an animal does. I focussed only on my hunger and realized that my senses were becoming ever keener. The eyes of the shama thrush, its black feathers and the curve of its body were filled with a mysterious life and expression, and as I came closer and looked in its eyes I had an increasing sensation of seeing several worlds at the same time. There was the pile of fruit, my hunger, my sense of despair and in the dawn light a small bird in which and through which I thought I saw different landscapes.

I decided to chase away any unsettling thoughts and not to doubt my sanity.

Again I took a step closer, and as I did the perceptions I was receiving through the eyes of the shama thrush seemed to become more precise. I recognized real landscapes and many animals.

I stared so intensely that my eyes began to water. I blinked and for a moment these spellbinding visions disappeared. It was only now that I realized that the flying squirrel was still sitting on my shoulder. However, I wanted once again to immerse myself in the shama thrush’s eyes. I moved closer, hoping that the bird would not fly away. The thrush remained completely calm and I looked at it. And again there came, as if from a long way away, images and landscapes. I was certain that in some mysterious way I was seeing the different parts of the island.

Gradually I became more curious and courageous. I tried to formulate a clear idea, for I suddenly felt the desire to know whether there were perhaps also people here. I whispered softly, “Human?”

The eyes of the shama thrush seemed to light up in an odd way and I saw myself whirling through a storm of leaves as if in a nosedive. For a moment I thought I could see a being, but then it became clear to me that what I was actually seeing with the eyes of the thrush was its progress as it flew down from the treetops to the ground, where there was some sort of living creature. The speed of the descent made it impossible to make out whether it was a human or an animal.

Again I had to blink. The vision disappeared but then returned. Now the image that I was perceiving through the thrush was a much more peaceful one. I saw a small lake of pure, inviting water, whose shores were covered with wonderful plants. The image wavered and the perspective changed, and I realized that the thrush has landed on a living being that was walking along the shore of the lake. However, my blinking again prevented me from seeing whether this creature was a human or an animal. From time to time I saw something glowing golden in the sunlight flit into my field of view. Was it a piece of fur or hair – perhaps human hair? I simply could not make it out.

At this moment the vision disappeared. Without realizing it, I had continued to move closer and had reached for the coconut on which the thrush was sitting. It took off, turned in flight and disappeared into the distance.

However, for the moment my senses were focussed solely on the satisfaction of my hunger. I peeled away the fibers encasing the coconut and then broke open the shell on a sharp stone. Now I was able to drink the coconut milk. It filled me with an extraordinary strength and freshness. When I finally sat down in front of the pile of fruit in order to take the coconut apart, I began to reflect on what I had experienced. The flying squirrel had jumped off my shoulder and now sat, as the thrush had, on the pile of fruit, regarding me intently.

These first two days on the mysterious island had wrought great changes in me. This morning particularly had shaken and altered my consciousness. I knew that this was no ordinary island and I could feel that the dried out shells of an old, tired past were constantly falling away. In the midst of my jagged emotional landscape a new Douglas Goldfield was emerging, for whom supernatural experiences with a bird were almost normal.

“And you,” I said to the flying squirrel, “are you my friend?”

I held out a piece of coconut to it, and it came to me eagerly and took it.

I took a banana.

Then both of us ate. I was at peace and felt a golden current of life flowing within me.

Without thinking about it I had become much calmer and relaxed.

I finished my meal, warmed by the rays of the rising sun.

I had a clear plan.

I took another sip of water then stood up, packed my bundle together and walked over to the steep slope that led down to the coast. The squirrel followed me and jumped onto my shoulder.