The Man, The Artist and The New World

The Navigator sighed. This was taking too long. His men were sick of the endless ocean; afraid they would get to the edge of the Earth and fall off. They were on the verge of mutiny, especially since the rum had started running low, and whatever was left was kept for the personal use of the Navigator himself. He had drunk himself into believing that across the ocean there was a land, rich in spices, where he could trade freely without having to worry about the bothersome Ottoman customs officials who refused to let him carry liquids along the Old route for fear they might undergo spontaneous combustion and destroy the adjoining caravans.

Another stress line made its appearance on his forehead, as he thought of the mysterious hooded passenger sitting in his cabin. That Man was responsible for this damned attempt to go round the Earth, and if anything went wrong with the crew, the Navigator had decided to side with them and kill the chap, and then return home. But there was something about the Man that sent shivers down his spine and reminded him of his days spent studying under the cruel tutelage of the most sadistic teacher east of the great ocean. The Man particularly reminded him of the times spent hanging from a tree while his tutor caned his posterior. He thought of how best to get the Man killed without the guy finding out that he was responsible. As he thought, the rum he had drunk took its toll and he fell asleep at the wheel.

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The Artist agreed to take on the Man as his assistant till he found a way to escape. The Man helped the Artist by holding his pastels while he painted, and he also made up the subjects sometimes. So it came to pass that the wife of a local nobleman came to the Artist to get her portrait done. The Artist however was unable to make her show some expression, for she was nervous. He turned to the Man for help, but the Man just shrugged. However, once the Artist turned towards the lady, the Man stripped. Now the Lady saw this and was aroused, but for propriety’s sake she confined her emotions to a smile. After the sitting, she hinted to the Man to meet her later.

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The Man broke into a run, and dashed into the great port of Genoa. He was late, and was afraid the Ship would leave. He raced towards where he knew the Ship would be, knocking down two street sellers and tripping over four dogs as he went. But the dock was empty. The Ship had sailed. As he sat dejected on the wharf, a couple of sailors asked him what the problem was and whether he needed some help. “I just missed the Ship”, he said. “What ship?” they inquired. “No ship sails today”. “But I was to get on board the Ship today, the 25^th of November.” “Are you crazy? Today’s the 15^th. You’re drunk. Go sleep it off and come back ten days later.”

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The Artist stared at the Man walking towards his house. He blinked, rubbed his eyes and then stared some more. His hand reached for the bottle of wine at his side, and toppled it in agitation. ‘Oh God’, he thought. The Man came straight down the path to his house, and rapped on the door. The Artist opened it, to admit the Man, dressed in outlandish costumes, with a trench coat, ribbons across his shoulders and with a hood instead of a hat. The Man spoke, “I was sent here to escape the Scourge. However, my party was attacked while we were drunk on wine in Sicily, and all my men were killed. I survived, but in my haste to get away (or was it the wine), I tripped on a tree root on the edge of a chasm, and fell in. As I fell, I felt some strange force around me, trying to pull me apart in all directions, and the next thing I know, I’m laying at the foot of the cliff. The attackers were gone, so I walked around for a while till the people stoned me and drove me away, calling me a devil. I guess it was the clothes I was wearing. They were all in weird robes. I roamed around till I came to an abandoned graveyard, where I saw you digging some up. The dates on the graves were weird. They were all 440 years before my time. Anyway, let that be. I doubt you were doing anything legal back in that graveyard, so help me get away and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

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The Navigator blinked as the water splashed into his face. He saw his crew standing in a circle above him and in the midst was his First Mate; the one who had roused him with the water. He looked around, and found himself in the Ship’s prison. He yelled at his crew to get him out, but they just smiled. “We’ll soon be rich”, they said. “The Man is paying us well to look after him. He will also give us good jobs in the New World”. The Navigator watched in disbelief as each member of his crew leered at him, and then they walked out. He leaned against the bars, and he thought he saw them all crowded around the Man. They were bending down and kissing the ring on his hand. The Man looked in his direction and smiled. “Soon I’ll be home,” he said. “Even though my Family won’t be there now, I’ll start afresh and create an Empire.”

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The Lady pressed close against the Man. They were in the woods near the Artist’s house. “I’ll be leaving soon”, the Man said. “I must go home.” “Very well. But at least tell me your name”, she said. “Michael”, he replied.

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