Part 51

"Then let me tell you what this is. This is a bill. And not an ordinary bill. Our good Zeus says, says he: 'Your past bills for the water I have supplied you have not been paid. Your rates are therefore doubled, and the present bill also includes a penalty for late payment and excess water usage. Return payment in full with the boy, or suffer the consequences."

"How dare he! To send such a bill to Poseidon! I rule the waves and all the water under them! Penalties! I am somewhat annoyed by your missive, shipmate. Have you heard the term, keelhaul? It's an old custom to keelhaul those who arouse the ire of Poseidon. And, in the absence of Zeus, mayhap we shall keelhaul his emissary."

Demo looked around. He saw no sign of emissary, none to serve for the aforementioned keelhauling.

Demo shivered.

"Eh, Sire, he seems not to have an emissary handy. Should I see such an emissary, I shall most certainly direct him to you, so that he may participate in the keelhauling. Anyway, now my mission is complete, and I must report back to Zeus."

"Oh, no! I wouldn't think of such a thing. Come aboard, come aboard! Ho the dinghy, we'll be going directly to the ship. Look lively, now!"

Demo followed Poseidon's gaze. Where the sea had been empty now floated a three master, its sails furled. And on the beach a dinghy, manned by a scurvy looking crew of ill-clothed sailors.

"Yes, indeed. I can see you are impressed by her lines. Only wait 'til you are on board. We shall have a sumptuous feast in your honor. Ah, you haven't eaten until you've partaken of the food from my galley. Come along!"

Demo examined, surreptitiously, the oarsmen. Though they rowed with vigor, their faces remained expressionless, their eyes empty. He felt as though he were looking on the spirits of drowned sailors, condemned to these chores for eternity.

"Quickly, now, laddie! Up the ladder. Hold her steady, boys. I wouldn't have the youngster get wet, not yet."

Somehow the last two words disturbed Demo. He wasn't exactly sure why.

"Keelhauling, I didn't explain it to you, did I. Well, it's a sport we indulge in at times. Gives the lads a chance to get in their exercise. The way it works is, we take a . . . eh, a volunteer. We tie his hands behind him, wrap a hawser around him, and toss off the bow. The boys pull the hawser from stem to stern, from starboard to larboard, all around the good ship back to the bow once more. Jolly good fun!"

Demo listened wide-eyed and speechless.

"I see you are impressed! And so you should be. I've a very good mind to let you volunteer. Give you a chance to show off your mettle. Yes, I just may give you the chance." Poseidon's voice held a tone of anger to match his angry face.

"And the sea is of like mind. Have you ever seen such waves! Keelhauling today would indeed be great sport!"

"Sire, I fear I would provide poor sport indeed. With hands free I swim like a rock. With them tied I fear I would never surface at all."

"Well, don't fret. That happens all the time. Ruins the fun, of course. Keep in mind, though, that we always give the volunteer a solemn burial at sea. A very impressive ceremony. You would truly appreciate it."

The prospect of participating in a keelhauling - in fact, of being the keelhaulee - grew less and less desirable as Poseidon explained the term.

"But, first, a good meal. We'll start with some bacon and eggs. Delicious bacon, and the eggs are cooked in the bacon grease. A delightful meal. And you probably thought we'd be dining on cockles and mussels and nought from the dry land. No, no! We feed our guests well. Yes, indeed!"

The rolling of the ship as the waves struck, the thought of the greasy bacon and greasy eggs - the very idea of eating - nauseated Demo.

With a sigh he stared out at the watery scene.

The sea, which had been so blue and calm early in the day, now frowned with graygreen surface and waves that reached, at times, the foot of the crowsnest. The wind blew with a sonorous tone, reminiscent of the dirges played at village funerals. And above all the sky looked down with a gray visage, pockmarked with black clouds.

From these, more and more frequently, lightning flashed to better display the scene.

Flying fish swam deep, and dolphins sported not. Gulls and terns were not to be seen.

And yet . . . .

And yet a bird flew. Battered by the wind, drenched by falling rain, its powerful wings brought it ever closer to the ship. A huge white bird . . . .

Demo eyes brightened. Could it be her? Here, in this dreadful storm!

Indeed it was.