fLoOd--Part Thirteen

Andante

tHiRtEeN

   More sounds emerge from the darkness. Ripples tapping against the side of the boat. Minute splashes as something in the water rises slightly and then falls back. Breath being pulled in and out of lungs by exertion of muscles. And a softly whispered, "Yep. Yep."

   And in the darkness the small boat begins to rock ever so gently back and forth. First, a tiny dip to the right, which on a sailing ship at sea would be termed starboard, and then a corresponding tilt to the left, nominated by sailors port or larboard.

   The mild rocking of the boat continues and, each time one side goes up and the other comes down, the movement becomes just that much greater. Is nature trying to ensure that our seven seafarers enjoy a well-deserved rest, rocking them on her bosom as a mother does her child? Or is she preparing to toss them back to the elements as a bird forces her chicks from the nest when it's time for them to fly? Or is something else afoot?

   The men in the boat react differently to the ever-increasing motion which has taken possession of their tiny universe. Some fall deeper into slumber and some become restless in their dreaming, if dreaming they are. Smith's head begins to roll back and forth as it hangs between his shoulders and the word "quake" makes its way to his lips a couple of times. (Actually, in his slumber, Smith, not being very meticulous in his enunciation, emitted a sound more like "wage" than "quake".) ( Note: this should not be read as a synonym for salary but rather as a nonsense syllable, with a hard g, or a "guh" sound. Way-guh. Although Smith pronounced it, or rather murmured it, all in one syllable. "Wage." Thank you. Back to the story...) There are sounds of movement as some of the men adjust positions in their sleep to make themselves more comfortable, and snoring, which has been conspicuous by its absence up until this time, begins from Murphy and Johnson. Murphy,  sitting up with his head thrown back and his mouth open, makes a sawing sound as the breath enters his nose and a gargling sound as it exits his mouth. Johnson, sitting with one leg on either side of his anvil, arms laying on his knees, has sunk so far forward that his head is lightly resting on the anvil between his legs. He snores as he breathes in and his head rises slightly  and, as he breathes out, his head reconnects, producing the lightest of tones.

   So things have changed. The boat is no longer drifting into an endless expanse of silence. The back-and-forth rocking has slowed the boat's forward motion considerably. And now there are snores, unintelligible mumbles, tones, ripples and who-knows-what-else breaking the silence.