As I stepped out onto the main deck, the _Sofal_ rose upon the crest of
a great wave and then plunged nose downward into the watery abyss
beyond, tilting the deck forward at an angle of almost forty-five
degrees. The wet and slippery boards beneath my feet gave them no hold,
and I slid helplessly forward almost fifty feet before I could check my
descent. Then the ship buried her nose in a mountainous wave and a great
wall of water swept the deck from stem to stern, picking me up and
whirling me helplessly upon its crest.
For a moment I was submerged, and then a vagary of the Titan that had
seized me brought my head above the water, and I saw the _Sofal_ rolling
and pitching fifty feet away.
Even in the immensity of interstellar space I had never felt more
helpless nor more hopeless than I did at that moment on the storm-lashed
sea of an unknown world, surrounded by darkness and chaos and what
terrible creatures of this mysterious deep I could not even guess. I was
lost! Even if my comrades knew of the disaster that had overwhelmed me,
they were helpless to give me aid. No boat could live in that sea, as
Kiron had truly reminded us, and no swimmer could breast the terrific
onslaught of those racing, wind-driven mountains of water that might no
longer be described by so puny a word as wave.
Hopeless! I should not have said that; I am never without hope. If I
could not swim against the sea, perhaps I might swim with it; and at no
great distance lay land. I am an experienced distance swimmer and a
powerful man. If any man could survive in such a sea, I knew that I
could; but if I could not, I was determined that I should at least have
the satisfaction of dying fighting.
I was hampered by no clothes, as one could scarcely dignify the Amtorian
loincloth with the name of clothing; my only impediment was my weapons;
and these I hesitated to discard, knowing that my chances for survival
on that unfriendly shore would be slight were I unarmed. Neither the
belt, nor the pistol, nor the dagger inconvenienced me, and their weight
was negligible; but the sword was a different matter. If you have never
tried swimming with a sword dangling from your middle, do not attempt it
in a heavy sea. You might think that it would hang straight down and not
get in the way, but mine did not. The great waves hurled me about
mercilessly, twisting and turning me; and now my sword was buffeting me
in some tender spot, and now it was getting between my legs, and once,
when a wave turned me completely over, it came down on top of me and
struck me on the head; yet I would not discard it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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