Page 2 of A Land So Wide
Men cried and whimpered for their own mothers.
In his cabin, the man studied his maps.
He just needed to keep going, to lift everyone’s spirits long enough for them to see he’d done right. Once they saw the trees, they would understand. He was certain of it.
The morning’s sun rose red and bloody, bringing with it the promise of storms. Angers flourished and tempers flared. Wives bickered and children wailed. Roiling clouds of thunder piled high. The air crackled with doom.
They begged the man to stop, to turn around.
Grown men knelt on their hands and knees. They grabbed at his clothing. They rent their own.
Still, the man would not be dissuaded.
The first mate was the first to whisper it, that sly, sneaking, treacherous word.
Mutiny.
It lit through the crew like a line of gunpowder, racing from man to man until the entire ship was clamoring for action.
But then an excited cry rang out from the crow’s nest. The man’s oldest son, high aloft with a brass spyglass, had spotted them.
The trees.
They grew in a clustered grove along the far edge of the shore. Tall. Wide. Packed together in numbers so dense the man’s heart raced as he imagined the staggering prices he could charge.
They only needed to sail their way through a narrow channel flanked by a series of rocky peaks, and the trees would be his. The man’s spirits buoyed and he laughed aloud.
His ebullience was carried away on a sharp draft.
The sky turned black. The wind pitched sharper, and waves climbed over the bow of the ship, heralding the storm’s approach.
The mutiny would have to wait.
There was no time to turn, no time to alter course. To remain on open water would lead to a most certain death. The tree-lined cove beckoned, offering the promise of protection.
Without option, the first mate gritted his teeth and pointed for the narrows.
They nearly made it.
Just as they cleared the channel, the hull scraped against an underwater crag. The ship shuddered. Planks split apart. Brackish saltwater flooded into the lower decks. Cargo toppled over. Goats bleated in terror. Oxen and horses trampled their stall doors, fighting for their lives. Lightning flashed, and the echoing thunder boomed so loudly one man’s heart burst inside his chest.
The world was noise and darkness, blinding light and fear.
As the ship grew heavy with filling water, it cracked into pieces, throwing men, women, and children into the bay. Some swam. Some sank. All rued the moment they’d chosen to follow the man.
The storm eventually blew east, leaving behind a sky so brilliant it looked obscene.
Those still alive sputtered and pulled themselves to shore, surveying the wreckage. They took stock of their surroundings. They counted their dead.
They found the man underneath one of his trees.
At first he appeared to be sleeping.
Then they noticed the branch jutting from his abdomen, mixing its strange red sap with his innards.
His first mate touched his shoulder with caution, jarring the man awake for a moment.
“This was a mistake,” he whispered, flecking his lips with blood. “Coming here was a mistake. A mistake and…”
