Chapter Eleven: A Storm
Disclaimer: negative possessive on positively magical story.
But it's mine all the same.
Yours too.
A/N: The majority of this chapter's beginning will be quotes from Chapter Five. Everything taken directly from the book, if it cannot be realised by its superior quality, can be recognized by italics. Lewis made this chapter much easier by putting things in Lucy's perspective for me at the beginning. There will be little that's mine. Though it's a telling test for fanfiction; have I been portraying the character well enough what's written doesn't sound off?
The next few days were delightful. Lucy thought she was the most fortunate girl in the world, as she woke each morning to see the reflections of the sunlit water dancing on the ceiling of her cabin and looked round on all the nice things new things she had got in the Lone Islands - seaboots and buskins and cloaks and jerkins and scarves. Lady Bern had taken to mothering her, in response to the help Lucy offered so willingly, and the two had become fast friends; before they left Lady Bern had showered her with gifts. It was good to wake up and remember such a good friend. And then [Lucy] would go on deck and take a look from the forecastle at the sea which was a brighter blue each morning and drink in an air that was a little warmer day by day. After that came breakfast and such an appetite as one only has at sea.
She spent a good deal of time sitting on the little bench in the stern playing chess with Reepicheep. It was amusing to see him lifting the pieces, which were far too big for him, with both paws and standing on tiptoes if he made a move near the centre of the board. Lucy loved those times; but she loved them best when Edmund left the conversations with Caspian and Drinian on navigation and the two conferred strategy. Together, they usually won. But if Edmund was busy, Reepicheep was a good player and when he remembered what he was doing he usually won. Edmund called this lessons in strategy; Lucy called it bloodless battles where she still got to fight, and loved it. There was joy in a friend's victory if there wasn't a victory for her.
But this pleasant time did not last. There came an evening when Lucy, gazing idly astern at the long furrow or wake they were leaving behind them, saw a great rack of clouds building itself up in the east with amazing speed. Then a gap was torn in it and a yellow sunset poured through the gap. All the waves behind them seemed to take on unusual shapes and the sea was a drab or yellowish colour like a dirty canvas. The air grew cold. The ship seemed to move uneasily as if she felt danger behind her. The sail would be flat and limp one minute and wildly full the next. While she was noting these things and wondering at a sinister change which had come over the very noise of the wind, Drinian cried, "All hands on deck." In a moment everyone became frantically busy. The hatches were battened down, the galley fire was put out, men went aloft to reef the sail. Before they had finished the storm struck them. It seemed to Lucy that a great valley in the sea opened just before their bows, and they rushed down into it, deeper down than she would have believed possible. A great grey hill of water, far higher than the mast, rushed to meet them; it looked certain death but they were tossed to the top of it. Then the ship seemed to spin round. A cataract of water poured over the deck; the poop and forecastle were like two islands with a fierce sea between them. Up aloft the sailors were lying out along the yard desperately trying to get control of the sail. A broken rope stood out sideways in the wind as straight and stiff as if it was a poker.
"Get below, Ma'am," bawled Drinian. ANd lucy - knowing that landsmen - and landswomen - are a nuisance to the crew, began to obey. It was not easy. The Dawn Treader was listing terribly to starboard and the deck sloped like the roof of a house. She had to clamber round to the top of the ladder, holding on to the rail, and then stand by while two men climbed up it, and then get down it as best she could. It was well she was already holding tight for at the foot of the ladder another wave roared across the deck, up to her shoulders. She was already almost wet through with spray and rain but this was colder. Then she made a dash for the cabin door and got in and shout out for a moment the appalling sight of the speed with which they were rushing into the dark, but not of course the horrible confusion of creakings, groanings, snappings, clatterings, roarings and boomings which only sounded more alarming below than they had done on the poop.
This went on. And on, and on, with no sunlight to measure days, no peace under the wind to catch one's breath. It went on till one could hardly even remember a time before it had begun. Lucy, in a light body that could easily be washed away, had to stay off the deck with Reepicheep. At one point a dripping Caspian looked at them and grinned, telling them that it was just as well the two fiercest spirits on the boat had to stay below; otherwise even the storm itself might run away. He'd been called out with a hurried, hoarsh yell above the storm's unending noise before they could reply. Lucy did what she could, but she remembered, with a flicker of impatience she tried to release, that this had been part of being a queen too. There were things queens simply weren't made for - such as doing dishes in Tashbaan - and it had taken her several years and a lot of Susan's gentle wisdom to realise that setting her hand to every task that came along was foolishness.
No matter how badly she wanted to join this battle. How much she wanted to help.
Edmund, who had grown quieter and quieter as he grew more exhausted, told her shortly that at least she wanted to help, and that was better than Eustace.
So she put together cold meals without use of a fire for men too exhausted to eat, wrong out wet clothing so they could pretend it would dry overnight, and prayed for Aslan for their lives. And prayed, as the storm went on and on, for the storm to end.
Twelve days. (Eustace insisted it was thirteen. 1) Twelve days, the most they'd thought they could go before turning back. But finally the storm ceased.
It was a gradual ceasing; the wind dying slowly, the ship groaning less, the rain dropping to something they could see through, then a gentle quiet dripping, then a drizzle. The men left a few people on watch and at the tiller, dropped into their bunks, and slept. For hours.
And when the morning came, they could see. Caspian, Edmund, Drinian, Reep, and Lucy took council together.
"We've no mast, your Majesties," was Drinian's grim statement. Lucy turned away from the stump left on the deck; it looked so forlorn.
"Provisions?" Caspian asked.
"We've enough for sixteen days, though all the chickens are gone (2)," Lucy contributed. She'd asked the cook that morning.
"That's not the problem, your Majesty." Drinian nodded towards the large room. "I checked the water barrels this morning."
"And?"
"Two of them were hit with a barrage of oars that came lose in the storm. Made a gap in the wood." He paused. "They're empty."
"How much have we got left?" Edmund asked.
"Enough for six days. Twelve, on short rations. (3)"
Caspian looked grim. "Spread word to the crew. Short rations will have to do."
Drinian nodded, calling a sailor over and having him spread the word. He turned his attention back once the sailor left.
"Where do we go?" he asked in a quieter tone. "Forward or back?"
"We can't go back," Edmund said. "We're eighteen days out, and that was running for most of it in with the strongest wind. It'd take over twenty to get back, and we can't last eight days without water. We'll have to go forward."
"And pray to Aslan for land," Caspian added, agreeing. He looked out at the water. "We've no wind, and no mast, and we can't make the men row on a half pint of water a day. Aslan's our only hope now." He looked back at the group. "But I still think we should put it to a vote. Edmund, Lucy, you agree?" They both nodded. "Drinian, call the men."
The vote was held in short order; with the exception of Eustace, everyone voted to go on. Eustace told them that looking for a land no one knew existed was wishful thinking (4), and Lucy smiled for a moment.
Aslan knew what lay ahead. If He was their only hope, it was, at least, a certain one. They'd live or die as He willed.
But Eustace got worse. Lucy, watching him in between running errands for the men repairing what they could, realised this was worse for Eustace than all of them because he hadn't any hope. All he had were the things he knew, and so depending on something - someone - he didn't know and didn't believe existed was terrifying for him. He complained more and more, and she tried her best to comfort him, even offering him some of her water. But Edmund, who had learned from Peter not to let his siblings make potentially harmful choices, took her to task, pointing out that what they were drinking was barely enough to sustain life and it wouldn't help Eustace feel any better if she died. She wished there was a way to give her cousin some of her faith.
But all they could do was wait. And pray.
The sailors jury-rigged a mast that caught a little of the wind that came a few days later. Lucy closed her eyes and stood, feeling it. It was good to be moving; the spirits of all of them revived.
Except Eustace. He'd shut himself off completely from hope, and stayed below deck. Out of all the men (or boys) on board, he seemed to need her help the most, and she started visiting him (5) between all her tasks, sitting down and asking him what he was writing in the book he always kept with him.
She tried not to be glad when tasks called her away again; but it was hard to listen to Eustace's misery and not be able to show him that hope was the better option.
She came back again anyway. Because it wasn't in her to give up a fight, and she had hope to spare. But she didn't want to listen to his complaints again, so she gave him a little bit of her water, when Edmund didn't see. He seemed thirstier than her; perhaps it was because he was a boy (6). She felt his forehead, heaped his blankets or took them off, and tried to remember all the things Susan had done to help them feel better.
The next day - six days after the storm ceased, just when their water would have run out if they weren't on half-rations - the lookout saw land. A way off; a very high mountain to the south-east (7). But land. Lucy felt her hopes become certainty, and she smiled as the gentle wind blew them softly towards it.
The next day brought gulls; and a mountain gradually growing. She thought of the mountains of Narnia, the gentle hills of the Lone Islands that would have been lost next to this one. She was so, so glad to see land.
The third day even Eustace stayed on deck all day, watching the land get closer and closer. They drew close enough to make out its shape; the lookout found a bay. The sun was just setting when they dropped anchor, and several of the sailors let down nets to fish, catching a glorious supper. Caspian overruled the suggestion - first given by Reepicheep - that they go explore and find adventure, saying that was too dangerous on the dark. But between the feast, and the extra water Caspian had passed around, Lucy felt she was attending a feast. And she thought it was a lovely way to begin their stay on this island; an island no one from the East had ever found before. She couldn't wait to see what it would bring.
OOOOO
(1) VOTD p. 57
(2) VOTD p. 58
(3) VOTD p. 58
(4) VOTD p. 59
(5) VOTD p. 61; also, I skipped the incident of Eustace stealing water because it is much more particular to his story than Lucy's. Lucy's reaction isn't mentioned; she would have just been listening, and I'd rather write about what she did.
(6) VOTD p. 61
(7) VOTD p. 61
Response to Anonymousme: … I'm not sure how to say this well, so please forgive any unwisdom. As someone who is near thirty, it's probably a different perspective than yours. But I had a friend – my accountability partner for the last eleven years, even though we've lived in different states for almost all of it – who fell in love with a godly, intelligent, and caring man. Her parents insisted she finish nursing school before they could be engaged; a nursing school that was about 10 hours away from where he was finishing his degree, instead of them both continuing to attend the same college. It led to many, many discussions about what it means to honor your parents. And how incredibly hard that could be. It sounds like your own situation is also difficult; it's hard to respect authority when you disagree with it. But my friend, after talking with her parents without being able to change their minds, obeyed. And it led to several difficult years for her. And regrets. But I don't think she argued that it was the right thing to do. Again, I'm sorry of that is badly phrased, or overbearing. It's just a difficult lesson I had to watch someone I love learn. I'm learning it myself, in a harder way now, as God is doing many things in my life I disagree with. Such as the death of two members of my family in the past year, including my younger sister. I have the consolation of knowing He's infallible; parents aren't. But I'm not sure that lessens the command we've been given to honor them.
Thank you again for all your reviews; and I'll definitely update as I can!
Response to Aslan's Daughter from "Kneel Under Authority," if you're reading this: Thank you for your review! I am so glad you liked that story; I was rather uncertain about it. It is really, really encouraging as a writer to know an experiment went well.
