Capítulo 7 — Vinel

  The man climbed down from the mast with slow, tired movements, his feet hitting the deck with a heavy thud. He held the rifle in one hand, dropped it carelessly, and let it fall onto the wooden floor with a dry crash.

  He looked up at the sky with an empty expression, took a deep sigh, and murmured to no one in particular:

  — Damn. I just wanted to drink in peace.

  Then he saw something running towards him.

  Fredon.

  The boy came at full speed, his eyes shining with pure excitement, a huge smile on his face.

  He reached him, grabbed his hand with both hands, and began talking nonstop.

  — What was that that just happened, uncle? It was amazing! How did you do that? Teach me, uncle! Please!

  The man stood still for two seconds, processing what he had just heard.

  Then he raised his free hand and gave Fredon a hard knock on the head, enough to make him let go and take a step back.

  — I’m not an uncle. I’m only twenty-two years old.

  Fredon rubbed his head, confused.

  — Sorry...

  The man crossed his arms.

  — If you want to call me something, call me Vinel.

  He turned and began walking in the opposite direction with slow, deliberate steps, as if each movement cost more energy than it was worth.

  But before he could go far, he was surrounded.

  The crew ran towards him from all sides, encircled him, began hugging him, patting his back, talking all at once.

  — Thank you, man! I thought I was going to die!

  — You saved us all!

  — You’re a hero!

  Vinel pushed them back with his arms, his expression growing increasingly irritated.

  — Step away from me. Now.

  But they didn’t stop. They continued flattering him, thanking him, trying to touch him as if he were some kind of saint.

  Fredon stood watching from a distance, his eyes fixed on Vinel, his mind full of questions.

  Who is he?

  Zelma approached from behind him and asked quietly:

  — So? Who is he?

  Fredon didn’t take his eyes off Vinel.

  — He didn’t tell me much. Just said his name is Vinel.

  Zelma stayed silent for a moment, then looked at Fredon with a strange expression — admiration mixed with something he couldn’t quite identify.

  Then Cheldon shouted from above, from where he had been steering the ship:

  — And now? What do we do? Where are we going, Captain John?

  Everyone turned to the captain.

  John was leaning against the mast with his arms crossed, his face pale, his eyes fixed on the ground.

  — I don’t know — he said softly.

  One crew member stepped forward, irritated.

  — Damn it! We were supposed to get a proper captain, not some impostor!

  The captain lowered his head even more, his shoulders slumped, as if the weight of all the wrong decisions he had made was crushing him.

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  Fredon saw it.

  He approached slowly, placed his hand on the captain’s shoulder, and said with a small but genuine smile:

  — It’s going to be alright.

  The captain raised his eyes, surprised.

  — Thank you, boy.

  Fredon squeezed his shoulder.

  — It’s nothing, Captain. You brought us here. And I know you’ll get us out of this too.

  The captain stayed quiet for a few seconds. Then he took a deep breath, straightened his back, and shouted to the entire crew:

  — Since the island of Anduza has disappeared, we’ll turn around and continue on our route!

  Cheldon shouted back:

  — Are you crazy? What if we encounter another one of those creatures?

  The captain pointed to the broken crates scattered across the deck.

  — We’ve already lost too many of our supplies fighting the whale. If we stay here trying to look for the island, we’ll waste time and end up with no food. And you all know what happens after that.

  The silence was heavy.

  Then Vinel appeared from the crowd, hands in his pockets, expression tired but firm.

  — It’s true. The best thing to do now is try to find nearby land. If not, we’ll die here.

  He paused.

  — Not that I care about your lives.

  All the crew, except Zelma, began moving. They went down to the boiler room, grabbed shovels, and started throwing coal into the furnaces to get the ship back on course.

  ---

  Time passed.

  Fredon was down below with the others, shirtless, his body covered in sweat and soot, throwing coal into the fire with a smile on his face as if he were doing the most fun thing in the world.

  Meanwhile, Zelma was on the upper deck, leaning against the railing, staring at the ocean with a thoughtful expression.

  The breeze brushed her face. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, painting the sky orange and purple.

  She reached into her shirt and pulled out a thin chain with a pendant hanging from it.

  It was a crest.

  Made of gold, worked with intricate details. In the center was a small crown, and beneath it, the letter A elegantly engraved.

  Zelma held the crest between her fingers, looked at it for a long moment, and whispered to herself:

  — I’m on my way, Dad and Mom. Soon I’ll be with you.

  — On your way to see who?

  She jumped, quickly hiding the chain inside her shirt, and turned suddenly.

  Fredon was behind her, head tilted with curiosity.

  — F-Fredon! — she stammered, her face turning red. — W-what are you doing here?

  — I came to rest a bit. — he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. — So? You’re going to see who?

  Zelma hesitated.

  — Nothing. I was just... talking about seeing my parents.

  Fredon smiled.

  — I can tell by your red face that you’re really happy to be able to see them again.

  She nodded slowly.

  — Yes. I miss them a lot. — She paused, looking at the ocean. — But if it were up to me, if I could, I’d want to live with my whole family on the island of Anduza.

  Fredon leaned against the railing next to her.

  — Yes, it’s true. I’ll miss Anduza too. — He frowned. — But now I wonder... how did Olsen know all this? And why did he send you?

  Zelma shrugged.

  — I don’t understand either. I just know I had a contract that said I would leave there at thirteen.

  Fredon looked at her.

  — Contract? What do you mean?

  — Maybe it’s one of those passports the captain talked about. Maybe those people also had a time limit like I did.

  Fredon shook his head slowly.

  — A time limit... doesn’t make sense. My grandfather was always someone who defended freedom on the island. And how did the island just disappear?

  Zelma sighed.

  — There are many questions. But we’ll find the answers.

  Fredon turned to her with a sudden smile and took her hand.

  — That’s true. The important thing now is that we’re together.

  Zelma froze, her face turning completely red, her heart beating so fast she was certain he could hear it.

  — Y-yes — she stammered. — We’ll stay together until... until death separates us.

  Fredon nodded with all the innocence in the world.

  — That’s true!

  Zelma closed her eyes and imagined herself in a white dress, Fredon putting a ring on her finger, both of them smiling at each other while—

  — Hey! You two! — Cheldon shouted from the other side of the ship. — The food is ready! Come quickly or it’ll get cold!

  ---

  Everyone gathered around a large table on the deck, wooden plates in front of each, smells of grilled fish and fresh bread in the air.

  Captain John stood at the head of the table, clasped his hands, and said:

  — Let us pray before we eat.

  Everyone bowed their heads.

  — Oh God who art in heaven, be with us and in the meal we are about to eat—

  Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

  The sound of someone loudly chewing cut the silence.

  Everyone opened their eyes and turned.

  Vinel was sitting at the other corner of the table, eating fish with his hands, chewing noisily, completely oblivious to the prayer.

  The captain stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide.

  — That... that’s blasphemy! Eating while others are praying!

  Vinel looked at him, mouth still full, swallowed, and said with the most shameless expression possible:

  — Sorry. But I am not a supporter of your God.

  A crew member jumped to his feet, face red with anger.

  — Wretch! How dare you—

  Vinel turned his head slowly towards him and looked him directly in the eyes.

  He said nothing.

  He just stared.

  But there was something in that gaze — something cold, empty, dangerous — that made the crew member immediately step back and sit down, saying nothing more.

  Vinel went back to eating as if nothing had happened.

  Fredon, sitting next to Zelma, watched Vinel with a mix of fascination and confusion.

  Who is this man?

  Vinel finished eating silently, stood up, grabbed a bottle of wine that was in a nearby crate, and left without saying a word.

  Zelma leaned toward Fredon and whispered:

  — I’m going to sleep. I’m tired.

  Fredon nodded.

  — Rest well.

  She got up and went to her cabin.

  ---

  Hours passed slowly.

  The work continued — coal thrown into the furnaces, the ship advancing with a constant creak of wood and metal. Fredon helped until his muscles burned and sweat covered his entire body.

  When he finally returned to the deck, the sun was already low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple blending with the dark blue of the approaching night.

  The breeze had cooled. The ship was quieter now, only the sound of the waves and the creaking of ropes.

  That’s when he saw Vinel.

  He was sitting alone near the edge of the ship, legs dangling over the railing, a bottle of wine in hand. He stared at the horizon with a vacant expression, as if seeing something no one else could.

  Fredon approached slowly, hesitant.

  — Mister Vinel... can I talk to you for a bit?

  Vinel didn’t look at him.

  — I told you not to call me Mister. Just Vinel.

  — Sorry, Vinel.

  Fredon sat beside him, leaving a safe space between them.

  They were silent for a few seconds, only the sound of the ocean between them.

  Then Fredon said:

  — My name is Fredon.

  — I don’t care.

  Fredon swallowed hard but didn’t give up.

  — From your face, I can tell you’re not from Anduza.

  Vinel took a sip from the bottle.

  — That’s right.

  Fredon looked at the horizon too, trying to see what Vinel saw.

  — Tell me, Vinel... what’s beyond that horizon?

  Vinel was quiet for a moment before answering.

  — I don’t know. I’m just trying to get home.

  Fredon turned to him, curious.

  — Home? Where is that?

  — Far from here.

  Fredon then noticed Vinel’s hands. There was a circular mark on the ring finger of his left hand, pale against his tanned skin. As if he had worn a ring for a long time and had taken it off recently.

  — I see — said Fredon quietly. — I imagine it’s for your wife and child.

  Vinel remained completely still.

  The bottle paused halfway to his mouth.

  Then he turned to Fredon with a cold expression, his black eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made the boy instinctively take a step back.

  — Get out of here, boy. — His voice was low, dangerous. — I can see you don’t know what you’re talking about.

  Fredon raised his hands, nervous, his heart beating faster.

  — Sorry, I didn’t mean to—

  — I already told you. Leave me alone.

  Fredon felt something tighten in his chest. It wasn’t exactly fear. It was something else. Frustration. Confusion. The feeling of having touched something important by accident and not knowing why.

  What did I say wrong?

  — I have just one more question—

  — I already told you to leave me—

  The ship began to shake.

  Violently.

  Crates fell. Ropes snapped. Crew members screamed.

  Vinel jumped to his feet, dropped the bottle which shattered on the floor, and looked at the water with narrowed eyes.

  — Damn. Don’t tell me it’s...

  Before he could finish the sentence, the whale emerged from the water.

  Huge. White. Furious.

  Its wings spread, blocking the sky. The golden lantern under its body shone with a blinding intensity that made everyone cover their eyes.

  A gigantic wave rose behind it, so tall it seemed impossible.

  All the crew rushed out of the cabins, looked up, and froze completely, mouths open and faces pale.

  The whale looked directly at the ship.

  And then it dived.