Invisible World

by Suzanne Weyn

  I scurried about the cabin, rapidly collecting those things. In minutes, Kate and I were wrapped in both our capes and blankets. I stepped into my high boots but didn’t take the time to buckle them.

  “Hurry!” Father commanded us, braced against the doorjamb to steady himself, the slumbering Bronwyn still in his arms. Within seconds, Kate and I were hurrying ahead of him on the narrow ladder to the deck. The moment my head came above the hatch, I was doused with rain as though someone had hurled a thousand buckets of it at me. Pulling myself up, I immediately slipped on the soaked deck and slid until I hit the port-side rail.

  Crew members ran in all directions. Some were above, clutching the rigging, battered by the gale as they attempted to lower the flapping sails. Four crew members struggled to toss a rowboat over the side. Other passengers appeared, looking bewildered and terrified.

  A sail ripped from its mast and beat against the other sails, drumming with deafening noise. A jagged line of lightning sizzled along the rigging lines that held the sails, and an earsplitting blast of thunder immediately followed. It took only minutes for the sails to burst into flame, throwing sparks down to the deck below.

  Father put his hand on my arm. Bronwyn was now slung over his shoulder like a sack, and Kate was at his side. “Get to the boats! This way,” he shouted through the driving rain, above the wind’s tumult.

  A flaming shard of broken wood pierced the deck between us as though someone had aimed a fiery arrow from above. Before the rain could douse it, the trim of Kate’s cape caught fire. Father stomped it with his boot as Kate screamed.

  When it was out, we ran alongside Father to the bow of the boat. Fishing nets had been rolled over the side, dropping down to the turbulent ocean below.

  Peering over the edge, I saw crew members in three violently rocking rowboats that had been tossed into the water from the ship. Surely there was not room for everyone on board to fit into them.

  Men and women were climbing past me over the ship’s side, some of them clutching small children, the bigger children climbing on their own. They were the ones I had played with earlier in the voyage. Terror now twisted their faces.

  Still slung on Father’s shoulders, Bronwyn suddenly opened her eyes and leapt from his arms, tottering for a moment beside him. She was completely alert, assessing the situation. “Girls! Over the side! Quickly! Quickly!” she insisted, as though she had been conscious all along.

  Kate’s eyes were full of panic, and I knew how she felt. The idea of climbing the nets while being pounded by fierce rain was awful enough. But the Golden Explorer was rocking at an ever more severe pitch from side to side. With a thunderous crack, one of the flaming masts crashed to the deck. Instantly, a line of flames raced toward us.

  Kate and I scrambled to avoid the attacking fire. Not even the driving rain was sufficient to quell the flames. Father and Bronwyn were quickly beside us, directing us toward the nets. “You can do it, girls. Climb down!” Father said with surprising calm.

  Lifting me by the waist, Father swiftly swung me overboard, holding on until I could grip the top netting. Taking courage from his composure, I began to climb down. My hands and feet slid and the soaked ropes burned my skin. The rain was so blinding that I was only dimly aware of Kate’s form on the netting some feet away from me. With a howl, a gust of wind tore away the blanket I had wrapped around my shoulders. It sailed through the black sky, a giant sea bird flapping, until it disappeared.

  I heard a shout and thought it was Kate calling to me. Instinctively, I stretched out my hand to the blurred shape I took to be my sister. My fingers clutched only air. And then I could no longer even see her form.

  A body plummeted past me, only inches away. Looking down, I saw the person splash into the waves below. A rowboat moved toward the spray and I assumed it was attempting a rescue.

  I gripped the net, paralyzed with fear. “Kate!” I shouted. “Bronwyn! Father!”

  The wind snapped the words from my mouth, racing them out to sea.

  I concentrated on nothing but placing my hands methodically one below the other. Rung by rung my foot searched for the net’s lower roping until it found a foothold.

  With a shrill creak, the ship’s hull leaned out over me.

  The netting hung at a ninety-degree angle away from the Golden Explorer.

  My feet slid off the ropes and dangled in air.

  I clutched fiercely to the netting, ignoring the burn from the rope. Screams and shouts hit my ears even over the howling wind.

  Then a new, even more terrifying reality came to me: The Golden Explorer was not rocking back in the direction from which it had come! It would have already been moving in the opposite direction, if it were going to go.

  No, it had reached its tipping-over point and was heading steadily downward. If it kept going, it would crash right on top of the rowboats below.

  The Golden Explorer, with its flaming sails, was capsizing.

  It would plunge all of us who clung to the nets into the dark, cold, rain-lashed sea. We would be underwater with the gigantic ship pinning us below.

  Down in the smaller boats, the crew was rowing madly out of the way. People fell from the nets on every side of me. I winced and cringed each time the flapping, wind-tossed rope flung another screaming person into the black ocean.

  The Golden Explorer’s hull menaced us with ominous creaks as it continued its slow descent into the sea.

  My terror was almost too much to stand. Where was my sister? Bronwyn? Father? Were they already floundering in the water below?

  My hand slid and I lost hold of the net.

  Suddenly I was in the air, attached to nothing.

  My cape ballooned out, and an intense silence enveloped me as I hung like a hawk, riding an air current.

  Then I pitched headfirst and tumbled through the air.

  I HIT THE OCEAN WITH MY CAPE WRAPPED AROUND MY HEAD. The heavy woolen material was instantly soaked and pulled me down like a weight. Seizing its ties, I ripped the cape off.

  The instant the heavy cloth fell away, I was in a yellow world, and I swirled below the ocean’s surface in a vortex of seawater. Looking up, it seemed that the sun had fallen to earth and its fire was engulfing everything.

  People flailed all around me. Others only hung there, feet and legs waving listlessly.

  A bubble of air dribbled from my lips and I clamped down on it. I was deep underwater with only a mouthful of air!

  Snapping my legs together, I stroked forcefully toward the flaming surface.

  Where was my family?

  I didn’t see any of them. But I couldn’t look for long. With only minutes left, nothing could be allowed to distract me.

  As I rose, my lungs churned with pain. It took all my self-control not to inhale the salty sea. My chest was exploding. The blinding light on the surface grew brighter still.

  Almost there …

  A cascade of bubbles shot from my mouth. Gasping and coughing, I broke through the water and inhaled deeply. The air seared my throat. Had I sucked in flame? I expelled it with hard force. Leaving only a cheek full of roasted air, I ducked below once more.

  The salt sea burned my scorched skin but it also cooled.

  The Golden Explorer’s massive hull had become an inferno. The bowed wall of flaming wood lay on its side. Its metamorphosis from majestic vessel to underwater shipwreck was now inevitable.

  With a thunderous creak and bang, the ship continued tipping. The movement set off a watery surge that pushed me below the surface even farther.

  I had to get away from the sinking ship. And I needed to find another place to come up for air. If the Golden Explorer sank completely, all of us would be trapped in the masts and sails. We’d surely drown.

  Turning, I began to swim away from the boat, but my air was going fast. I headed back toward the top of the water, swimming at a diagonal. This time, when I broke the surface, a wave knocked me back and filled my open mouth with salt water and rain. I spat it
back out and inhaled deeply. The rain and waves made it impossible to see anything clearly other than the flaming ship.

  It seemed safest not to swim too far because I still hoped one of the rowboats might pick me up. Also, I needed to find Kate, Bronwyn, and Father. I hovered there in the water, far enough from the burning ship but not so far as to be on my own.

  Debris from the belongings of passengers and crew members and from the wreckage of the Golden Explorer floated on the waves. I thought I saw Father’s book of Shakespeare plays float by and grabbed for it but couldn’t connect. It certainly made no difference. The book was nearly destroyed.

  A large wave swelled toward me, and on its crest was an open barrel turned on its side. The wave tossed the barrel into the air as it curled over me. Fearing that I would be crushed by its force, or hit by the flying barrel, I dove below. When I emerged, the barrel floated nearby.

  Swimming to it, I pulled myself inside.

  Off a short distance, I could see the Golden Explorer. Reaching out, I paddled, but a wave rolled up below the barrel, lifting it and launching it through the air. Gripping the sides with my hands, I braced with my legs as I flew through the dark storm. The barrel splashed back into the ocean, dipped, and took on water, but thankfully didn’t sink.

  Waves splashed inside, hitting me with salt water over and over. Shivering, I gripped and braced again as once more the barrel was lifted and thrown through the storm-tossed night.

  This terrible ride went on and on without end. My teeth rattled each time the barrel landed, only to be swept up on a fresh wave and pitched into the air. Yet I didn’t dare to leave the flying container. To be out in the water would be much worse.

  The barrel floated peacefully for a few moments, allowing me to loosen my grip on its sides. How my muscles ached! As it bobbed on the tempestuous waters, I thought I saw a hazy full moon appear in the sky. Was the storm abating? The rain seemed less fierce.

  From a long way away, white fingers of foam began to roll toward me, picking up strength and height. I watched the wave’s ominous approach with dread. The tide was coming and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Would it be better to leave the barrel, to avoid this rapidly growing wave by diving under? If I did that, I would lose my little craft for certain and then where would I be? Adrift in the open ocean, where I would surely tire and sink? And who knew what creatures swam here?

  Resolving to stay, I gripped the sides of the barrel with all my strength and once more braced my legs across the width of the barrel.

  The wave was becoming so gigantic that I couldn’t stand to look at it for fear that I would pass out from utter terror. The last thing I saw before squeezing my eyes shut was a wall of water coming at me.

  The barrel sped along this giant wall at a high speed. Never before had I ever traveled at such a velocity. My heart raced, slamming into my chest.

  I had to open my eyes, needed to see what was happening.

  The huge wave shot me from its tunnel. Screaming, I held on for my very life as the wave flipped the barrel onto the top of its mighty arch.

  The barrel bounced on the crest for what seemed a very long moment before being tossed so high I felt as if I was being rocketed toward that hazy moon in the sky.

  Someone was pounding on my head, and it was making me angry. Opening my eyes, I didn’t know where I was for a moment. In the next second, though, everything that had happened came to me in a rush of memory.

  Blinking hard, I gazed into blinding sunshine. The barrel had flipped up so that its bottom bobbed in the ocean and the sun’s rays beat down on me. I sat with my knees to my chin in warm rainwater, my hair dripping and my white nightgown plastered to my skin.

  No one was pounding on my head. The hammering was in my head.

  The spot that hurt the most was above my right eye. I touched it and winced as excruciating pain raced across my forehead. My hand came back smeared in red. Curious, I poked the spot and recoiled in agony. Cautiously, not wanting to tip the barrel and be spilled, once more, into the sea, I rose to take in my surroundings.

  I was alone, in a barrel, bobbing in a vastness of sky and ocean, with no sign whatsoever that the Golden Explorer, its passengers, or crew had ever been there.

  BY SHIFTING MY WEIGHT FORWARD AND BACK SEVERAL TIMES, I was able to rock the barrel back onto its side. After that I could lie down and let the waves push me along on their rolling surf. When seaweed drifted by, I grabbed it, devouring the slippery green leaves as though they were a great treat.

  Despite the rounded hardness of my bed, I easily fell asleep in the evenings as the sun set, lulled as peacefully as a baby in a rocking cradle.

  On the first night, I dreamt of Bronwyn flying through a sky of deep blue dotted by purple clouds. I climbed onto the outside of my barrel and called to her, waving my arms. She swooped down and sat beside me.

  I was overjoyed and hugged her, squeezing hard.

  “There’s my brave girl,” Bronwyn soothed, stroking my hair. “How thankful I am that I taught you to swim.”

  “Have you seen Kate? Father?” I asked.

  “Not yet. You’re the first I’ve found. Are you frightened, pet?”

  “Terribly frightened,” I admitted.

  “Hmmm, you must be,” Bronwyn said, rubbing my back. “Here’s a song that my mother taught me when I was little. It’s got a bright tune. It’s called ‘The Water Is Wide.’”

  “That’s surely true,” I said, sweeping my arms out over the expanse of ocean. “It’s wide as wide can be.”

  “Exactly.” Bronwyn tossed back her snowy hair and lifted her face to the moon as she sang in the low, lovely, melodic voice I’d heard so often.

  The water is wide, I can-not cross o’er.

  And neither have I the wings to fly.

  Build me a boat that can carry two,

  And both shall row, my true love and I.

  A ship there is and she sails the seas.

  She’s laden deep, as deep can be;

  But not so deep as the love I’m in

  And I know not if I sink or swim.

  Bronwyn sang it again, and this time I joined her, both of us singing loudly. For the time, it was as though nothing at all was wrong. It was just Bronwyn and me sailing the open sea on a barrel, off on a great adventure.

  “Did you ever have a true love, Bronwyn?” I asked.

  Her face grew soft with memory. “Indeed I did. It was a long time ago, but I can see him still.”

  “What happened?”

  “We married.”

  “You were married, Bronwyn? Why have you never told us?”

  “He was conscripted to go fight the Spanish under the rule of Oliver Cromwell. He was killed. I never wanted another. He was the greatest love of my life. When I think of him, I try to be happy for the time we spent together.”

  “I wonder if I’ll ever have a great love?”

  “Ah, you will, Bethy. I have no doubt. You have a great heart, and it will draw great love to it.”

  I wasn’t as sure, but I hoped she was right.

  We sat quietly side by side as the barrel was pushed by the waves. After a while, an awful idea struck cold chills down my spine. “Bronwyn, are you … alive and traveling … or are you … are you …”

  “Dead?” Bronwyn supplied the word I couldn’t bring myself to utter. “To tell you the truth, pet, I’m not quite sure myself. I was traveling when the storm hit, which was why you couldn’t wake me at first. Then when I returned to my body and fell from the netting, I struck my head hard on the side of a rowboat. In the next instant I was traveling again.”

  “Could you see your own body below?” I asked.

  “No. I wonder if it fell into the water or if someone pulled me into the boat. If I find my way back to my body, I don’t know if I will be dead or alive.”

  “Are you frightened?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” Bronwyn answered serenely. “I have been busy so far looking for you, Kate
, and your father. I will find my body. The astral self has the ability to do so, much like certain birds can always find their way home.”

  “And what if you’re not alive?” I dared to ask.

  “I don’t know yet, pet. I haven’t figured it out. Perhaps I’m not dead or alive.” A faraway expression came to her face, which struck me as very beautiful there, illuminated by the moon. “Maybe I’m a ghost, or perhaps I’m only a dream.”

  “A dream?!” I cried, alarmed. “No, not a dream!”

  My eyes snapped open and I was once more inside my barrel. A huge full moon threw a line of silver along the ocean and shone directly on me. The distant lines of surf dazzled with their rolling light.

  Sitting up, I searched the sky for my beloved governess. “Bronwyn,” I murmured aloud. I had felt comfort from her presence.

  A dream? Or perhaps it had been real. I couldn’t tell.

  IN THE NEXT DAYS I SANG “THE WATER IS WIDE” OVER AND OVER just to keep my mind occupied, and it did brighten my mood a bit and distract me from my hunger and thirst. I napped a great deal and kept a look out for more seaweed, though none came. I tried to keep track of day and night and how long I floated, but my hunger, exhaustion, and thirst made my mind hazy and I lost count.

  One night, I dreamt of Van Leeuwenhoek. He and I were gazing through a microscope down at a dish of his animalcules. I realized that I could hear them chattering. Leaning down close, I could make out sentences: “Don’t say that. God is always listening. God will hear.”

  I awoke, distressed by such an odd dream. Had the animalcules mistaken me for God? Was I the one they worried was listening?

  Watching the moonlit sea a while longer, I fell back to sleep and dreamt again.

  This time I dreamt that I rolled over in my barrel and opened my eyes. Bronwyn was staring in at me. She reached her hand out and I took it. Instantly, I was up in the sky with her, flying across the full moon. It was a rousing romp over waves and ocean.