Seven Tides

4 The Unknown land

 Silva lowers the leather tube that holds the lenses. "This is not the coast of Africa that I know. A great expanse of sand in the north spills into the sea for over three hundred leagues to the south, after which there should be a vast coastal plain stretching out. I see none of that here." He passes Gabriel the tube.

"Maybe we've traveled further south, around the horn and up the east coast." Gabriel lifts the magnifying scope to his eye.

Silva shakes his head. "No, this is not the eastern part of the continent, either. I've stood on that coast where great white sharks are as common as sardines." — Silva steps back from the railing — "If it were, there would be a single snow-capped mountain broadly spread out in the distance and behind it, the most beautiful mountain lake you've ever seen. This is not part of any continent I know. Here the sun is trailing behind us with the coast off the starboard bow, but if the sun follows behind then this is the west coast of Africa and we are headed north. This is not Africa. It makes no sense. Were we pushed south and then east to India and beyond?"

"No, because Orion becomes a ghost in the spring and summer skies, but here the hunter is clearly pulling his bow string tight." Gabriel adds, "and I know none of these other constellations. The brightest one is a four point cross." He puts away the lenses. "We must have been blown far to the south, beyond Africa."

"If that's the case," Silva concludes, "then this coast is an undiscovered one."

An offshore breeze and opposing currents keep us from gaining speed until late afternoon when the wind shifts back to the land. Closer to the shore, a row of bright green palm trees sway lazily in the breeze. A short distance behind them, a steep rocky ridge covered in vines and roots rises to a high plateau. The ocean shifts from deep blue to a blue lighter than the sky, and the outgoing tide reveals an unbroken string of reefs skirting the shore. The light of day dims as the sun melts into the green plateau high above our heads.

We run along the perilous reefs for most of the next day as well. What had fueled our hopes is now an agonizing taunt of salvation so close, yet impossible to reach. Finally, in late afternoon, the reefs briefly open, allowing long, low rolling waves to wash unbroken onto a wide sandy shore. Captain Cabral nods to Silva, who barks out orders, "Release the capstan and drop anchor. Lower and stow the sails. Mr. Galioto, prepare the dinghies to go ashore."

"Aye Mr. Silva, right away."

A short while later, the two boats are surging forward, driven by the crew's single-minded desire to regain land. Beneath the glassy surface lies clean, bright coral teaming with colorful fish. The men lean deep into the strokes, pulling together as a single man. The water froths and splashes from the cut of the oars, spraying high and soaking the crew. The heat is immense, and the beach wavers in the distance like a desert mirage. The dinghies become giant sleds riding the curling surf, rushing towards the shore. The coral beneath us gives way to smooth white sand. The men pull back hard with one last stroke and raise the oars. The boats coast across the final length, the bows skidding up into the sand and stop. The crews leap out and pull the boats further up onto the shore, and yet no one leaves the water. That is the captain's privilege and honor.

He stands at the bow, one leg cocked on the gunwale pondering the scene. He scans the length of the beach up and down, surveys the tree line and peers at the thick tangle of roots and vines covering the ridge beyond. Behind him, he gauges the ship lies anchored some two hundred feet back on this side of the reefs.

Silva approaches. "Captain," he quietly states, "something is watching us from the ridge on the beach."

For a while, Cabral continues to calculate the distance to the ship. After a moment, he pivots to scan the shore once more, careful not to gaze too long at the outcropping Silva has identified. "Man, you have the better eyes. I only see sand and rock."