Read Online Jason and the Argonauts by Bernard Evslin - Free Book Online
Authors: Bernard Evslin
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each other over the face of the water.
If my dream had been truly prophetic, then the rocks were driven by an evil intelligence and were intending to catch us between them. I remembered what I had seen: the hull cracking like a walnut, the men crushed, the bloody water. The wind was blowing harder and harder; the sail was taut. Sheets of spray curled at our bow, rising in a beautiful double arc and falling into a wake behind us.
I saw that we were going fast enough to pass between the rocks before they could meet. But even as I thought this, the rocks picked up speed and bowled terrifically over the water, coming straight at us, one on each side.
They were huge, towering high above the mast. They were massive chunks of mountain risen from the bottom of the sea to destroy us. They were very close now. I could see the mosses that grew upon them, purple and green, and their crust of barnacles.
Argos put over the helm. The ship answered, swinging away from the rocks, and we were darting off, as the rocks hurtled toward each other. Oh, how I hoped they would collide, shattering themselves.
But then—sickening sight—they swerved simultaneously and began to pursue us, plowing through the water, side by side. We had gained by our turn; they were farther behind. And the wind was still blowing hard, driving us on. But as I watched, the rocks grew larger and larger.
They were directly astern. I couldn’t see whether they were sliding along the surface of the water or forging through it. Both seemed impossible. Yet these boulders were coming at us with terrific speed. Our only hope was for the wind to blow harder.
I prayer for it to blow harder. And my prayer was answered. The wind picked up. It howled through the rigging. Jason still rode atop the mast; he couldn’t have climbed down if he had wanted to. He had to cling with arms and legs, or he would have been blown off like a leaf.
It was blowing a half-gale now. Our sail cupped the wind and the Argo flew over the water. I saw the rocks dwindle behind us. And I thanked whatever god had heard my prayer. Too soon. No sooner had I thanked him than the wind dropped. It was amazing. One moment it was blowing a half-gale, the next moment hardly a whisper of wind. The sail flapped. We wallowed. And the rocks rushed upon us.
I heard a shout. Whiteness fell from the sky like a swan plunging. It was Jason diving in a long arc from the top of the mast, arms and legs taut, hair sculptured in the speed of his fall. He entered the water cleanly and surfaced well beyond the ship, heading for the rocks.
He swam so fast he seemed to be skimming over the bright skin of the water. I saw that he wanted to meet the rocks as far from the ship as possible. But why? What could he do when he met them? He would affect them no more than a bird sharpening its beak.
I saw the rocks flinging spray as they braked in the water. They were stopping! I saw them drift sideways, away from each other, as if parting to leave a safe passage for the swimmer. Less and less did I understand what I was seeing.
Jason swam straight on, brown arms flashing. Something white floated behind him. It was his tunic. Then I saw why the rocks had drifted apart, and realized that they were indeed directed by a living intelligence. For they were changing direction. They were again rushing toward each other. They had separated only to give themselves space to pick up speed, intending to catch Jason between them. They were closing like giant jaws; they wouldn’t even leave a corpse if they met upon him. He would be a pinkish spot spreading on the waters.
Gulls seemed to know they were being offered a meal. They dived, screaming, plunging so close they risked being caught between the rocks, which were almost touching now. The diving gulls obscured the swimmer. The huge boulders struck each other with a horrid grinding crash.
I couldn’t see Jason. I saw only gulls and flying spray and rock dust. Suddenly the gulls vanished.
If my dream had been truly prophetic, then the rocks were driven by an evil intelligence and were intending to catch us between them. I remembered what I had seen: the hull cracking like a walnut, the men crushed, the bloody water. The wind was blowing harder and harder; the sail was taut. Sheets of spray curled at our bow, rising in a beautiful double arc and falling into a wake behind us.
I saw that we were going fast enough to pass between the rocks before they could meet. But even as I thought this, the rocks picked up speed and bowled terrifically over the water, coming straight at us, one on each side.
They were huge, towering high above the mast. They were massive chunks of mountain risen from the bottom of the sea to destroy us. They were very close now. I could see the mosses that grew upon them, purple and green, and their crust of barnacles.
Argos put over the helm. The ship answered, swinging away from the rocks, and we were darting off, as the rocks hurtled toward each other. Oh, how I hoped they would collide, shattering themselves.
But then—sickening sight—they swerved simultaneously and began to pursue us, plowing through the water, side by side. We had gained by our turn; they were farther behind. And the wind was still blowing hard, driving us on. But as I watched, the rocks grew larger and larger.
They were directly astern. I couldn’t see whether they were sliding along the surface of the water or forging through it. Both seemed impossible. Yet these boulders were coming at us with terrific speed. Our only hope was for the wind to blow harder.
I prayer for it to blow harder. And my prayer was answered. The wind picked up. It howled through the rigging. Jason still rode atop the mast; he couldn’t have climbed down if he had wanted to. He had to cling with arms and legs, or he would have been blown off like a leaf.
It was blowing a half-gale now. Our sail cupped the wind and the Argo flew over the water. I saw the rocks dwindle behind us. And I thanked whatever god had heard my prayer. Too soon. No sooner had I thanked him than the wind dropped. It was amazing. One moment it was blowing a half-gale, the next moment hardly a whisper of wind. The sail flapped. We wallowed. And the rocks rushed upon us.
I heard a shout. Whiteness fell from the sky like a swan plunging. It was Jason diving in a long arc from the top of the mast, arms and legs taut, hair sculptured in the speed of his fall. He entered the water cleanly and surfaced well beyond the ship, heading for the rocks.
He swam so fast he seemed to be skimming over the bright skin of the water. I saw that he wanted to meet the rocks as far from the ship as possible. But why? What could he do when he met them? He would affect them no more than a bird sharpening its beak.
I saw the rocks flinging spray as they braked in the water. They were stopping! I saw them drift sideways, away from each other, as if parting to leave a safe passage for the swimmer. Less and less did I understand what I was seeing.
Jason swam straight on, brown arms flashing. Something white floated behind him. It was his tunic. Then I saw why the rocks had drifted apart, and realized that they were indeed directed by a living intelligence. For they were changing direction. They were again rushing toward each other. They had separated only to give themselves space to pick up speed, intending to catch Jason between them. They were closing like giant jaws; they wouldn’t even leave a corpse if they met upon him. He would be a pinkish spot spreading on the waters.
Gulls seemed to know they were being offered a meal. They dived, screaming, plunging so close they risked being caught between the rocks, which were almost touching now. The diving gulls obscured the swimmer. The huge boulders struck each other with a horrid grinding crash.
I couldn’t see Jason. I saw only gulls and flying spray and rock dust. Suddenly the gulls vanished.
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