The Edge of the World

Young Jim knew it was only a matter of days before they fell over the edge of the world. He tried hard not to think about it, but in moments when the thought became too enormous to deny, all he could do now was fervently pray for a miracle.

Why had nobody questioned it before they set sail? Perhaps that was how a sailor had to be, just push off from land and never think of the consequences, never consider the fragility of a small wooden ship afloat in a featureless expanse of deep water, burning sun, sudden storm.

When they first turned their backs on the last rocky island, the last trailing foothold of home, it had seemed like any other voyage. Fresh out from Plymouth , caught up in the excitement of this new adventure, the men had gone about their daily tasks with no thought of what might lie at the farthest end of their voyage. But as the weeks passed and the ship sailed on and on into emptiness men began to talk, stories started to circulate, fear could be glimpsed flickering behind stalwart seafaring faces. Eventually it became obvious. Sooner or later they must come to the place where the ocean ended and then they would all tip headlong over the edge of the plate of the world into eternal nothingness.

It had been Ebnezer the cook who first gave voice to this certainty of inevitable doom. Unlike the rest of the crew he spent little time on deck staring out at the endless horizon, watching the unchanging line where sea met sky. Down below in the dark smoking galley space Ebnezer grew despondent and seasoned every dish with grim tales of the fate of sailors who challenged the known order of things.

As each day passed and the wind blew at their backs carrying them gently further and further away from home, low conversations sprung up during the long sunlit afternoons and dark star encrusted nights. Men long used to obeying an order without question were heard to ask where the ship was heading, old tales of monsters, wrecks and magic spread through the ship, and most dangerous of all, and without any one person saying it out loud, it became understood that the Captain had lost the trust of his men.

Captain MacDonald was aware of every whisper and every fear that crept about his ship, but his austere northern features never betrayed this knowledge. He strode the length of the deck with the assured confidence of a man who knows exactly where he is going and what he expects to find when he arrives there. If ever he doubted the authenticity of the charts over which he pored hour after hour, he never betrayed the slightest hint of it. Neither his First Mate, who received orders issued with unfailing calm authority, nor the cabin boy whose duties required him to creep silently into the Captain's presence, could ever report a single doubt or waver in their Captain's manner.

Now the moon was on the wane. Each evening as Jim climbed to his favourite roost on the yardarm to gaze on the vast ceiling of sky, he looked up at the bright silver disc, watching it shrink night by night. All the crew knew that when the final thin sliver of silver left the sky, that would be the night when the ship reached the end of its voyage. Jim felt that even the moon was abandoning them to eternal darkness

From a deep secret place within himself Jim sometimes allowed his imagination to take out and play with the vision of how it would be. Nobody had ever returned from the edge of the world, like death those that sailed to it committed to a one way trip. Would it be like the tall waterfall up on the moors behind his grandfather's Devon cottage. A great roaring would fill their ears as the sea rushed faster and faster towards its bottomless cascade. But how could that be? If all the sea were to empty over the edge of the world by now there would be no water left for them to sail on. Perhaps there was a wall, a great barrier encircling the world against which the waves beat, holding the sea in place. Would the ship run into this in the dark and founder, sinking to join the other wrecks and debris that had somehow floated to the end of space and time. Perhaps that would be better, to die a good seaman's death by drowning. Better than an unknown fate of falling forever into a nameless abyss.

And now the moon had gone. On this final night the men had all gathered on deck, but no one spoke, leaving it to the creaking ropes and slapping waves to break the ominous silence of impending eternity. Even Ebnezer was there, seated on a barrel, puffing on his filthy old pipe. Jim leant against the solid support of the wooden mast, too lethargic even to climb aloft. Beyond the wooden planking of the ship all was lost in darkness, on board only the lantern swinging lazily in the captain's cabin cast any kind of glimmer on the scene.

Suddenly even that light was blotted out as the tall bulk of the Captain filled the doorway.

"Mr Mate. Hoist the mainsail" he commanded.

Nobody moved.

"Mr Mate, Sir. Come down and receive your orders."

A figure detached itself from the gloom and the crew watched as their officer faced up to his captain along the length of the deck. Still nobody spoke.

"Hoist the mainsail. Make full speed. We are due to make land soon after dawn." The granite featured Captain snapped his orders once again.

"Land!" The word exploded from the seated bulk of the cook. "There baint no land here. This be the end of the world."

A flooding wave of shouting was released over the ship from its bewildered crew.

"Mr Mate. Line up your men." The Captain barked again.

On the officer's whistle the men, hard trained by long habit, fell unquestioningly into a silent line along the deck. The Captain observed them steelily and began to walk, hands clasped behind him, up the line and back again.

"So. You choose to believe that by dawn we will have sailed off the edge of the world. You choose to believe this even though not one sailor has returned with witness of such a place. No document exists with proof.

"I, gentlemen, choose to believe that by dawn we will site land, and I believe it because I - unlike you, gentlemen - have spoken to witnesses of this place. I have in my cabin a chart showing our landfall."

"Baint no such land," Ebnezer muttered. The Captain retraced his steps and stood before him. He held the man in his gaze for a moment then turned and strode back towards his cabin.

"Hoist the mainsail Mr Mate," he commanded once more. "Make full speed. For I hear the distant roar of pounding surf. Whether we sail to heaven or hell, by daybreak we shall all know the answer."

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