Wherein those wise enough to flee a sinking ship do so (Ch. 15)

A ship a pot and an internal combustion engine were having a debate. “Fairer than I? Upon the twelve seas there is not one such as I!” The ship was adamant. The internal combustion engine was unconvinced. “And what good does it do you to be fair? You are a hulk of wood and canvas, made of those things that once lived and now are dead to form your misshaped masts and planks. Your figurehead is a mockery of the perfect imperfections of the human form, a grotesque reminder of the fact that you bring nought but death.” The ship would’ve snorted had that been a thing a ship could do. As it was only a ship, it could but let the wind flap its sails fruitlessly. “I am only still until the time comes for me to live again. And once I do, that I live shall be clearer than clear could be. Gliding with such grace that those living things you so scorn could only look on in envy. Even those beasts acclimated and known to the sea shall turn green with desire to be as elegant as I.” Perhaps this swayed the internal combustion engine, as the verve had left him when he replied. “But even so, you’d still be a dead thing, constrained to the same tedious motions each and every time those humans who call you home will you to some place.”

There was an uncomfortable rustle somewhere deep in the bowels of the ship. Despite its many boasts and brags, the ship was neither particularly elegant nor was it sleek. It was a hulking mass of wood some 40 feet wide and so long the ship itself could not pinpoint just how much longer it was than wide. The depth the hull sank too seemed a truly astonishing thing to the internal combustion engine, and his feelings had begun to sink as to his chances at proving his merit over that of the ship. Too prideful was he to raise his merits on his own. He could only hope desperately that the ship would bring up his flaws so that he could rebut.

“It’s dark in here. I’m used to little, but this is beyond reasonable-...” “But this is our way out! Consult the futures and you’ll know it to be true!”

The internal combustion engine was not glad to be disturbed from his reverie. For its own part, the ship was none too glad at the interlopers either. This was just what the internal combustion engine needed.

“See, even should I be convinced that elegance and beauty are the traits of the ideal ‘Ship’, the ideal mistress of the winds and waves, still I would contend that you do not live up to any standard such as that. You are a depository for all that is foul of this sacred place. Perhaps you are a vital lifeline to it, but as you leave you do nothing more than dispose of its trash.”

The ship was not giddy, as she was too large and anyways, she was moored and tethered. As such, she only tilted, as if confused at this idea.

“This is a rather unsound line of interrogation, wouldn’t you say? As you have moved from those characteristics of ships to those characteristics of myself. And have I contended to be an exemplar? And even should that have been the case that I argued from a place of personal merit and value, would any such assertion you’ve made impinge upon that? For I am vital to this holiest of places both in coming and going, and what could you possibly be that can compare?”

This was just the opportunity that internal combustion engine had been waiting for, and he was just readying himself to assert that merit and value known to all that he possessed. He was disturbed first by the thought that the ship had indeed begun the discussion with its own merit. Appeals to the broader notion of ‘shipness’ had never been brought up directly, and this assertion hinted at conversive achievements the ship had not made.

“If in a hole and a pit I can find myself happy, why then should I bother to hear the words of prophecy? To know the future? If it’s all about my safety in knowledge and my future, should I not attempt just to be content with the moment, caring not for that which I cannot control?” “You don’t need to be happy! You just need to sit it out!”

The internal combustion engine had not the chance to reply to the ship or to the interlopers. The hull opened and a gruff sailor, marked not so much by tattoo or scar as by air and bearing, marched down the stairs. He navigated the labyrinthine mess that was the darkness of the hull and located the source of that which disturbed him in but an instant.

“Get out! Next time I find you on this ship without good reason you’ll wish your fate would end with being fish food!”

He chased the two interlopers out, pulling them by the ear in an almost fatherly manner. No one dared mention the almost appreciative glint in the sailor’s eyes. Perhaps some respect is earned when innocence is so plain.

As soon as the two were properly deposited on the pier, despondent looks ignored and scorned, the sailor turned back to the ship and nodded to a man dressed richly in suits of some high fashionable cut.

“We set sail!”

It was perhaps a strange time to set sail, but it was not as if any other time would be any less strange. Not a pilgrim or visitor had arrived for the summer divination, and not a ranger or preacher came or went on their holy duties. And as the hull was full, the weight and bulk of the ship matched for once on the departure as well as the arrival to Pontiac’s point.

The maneuver to disembark took most of three hours, the added bulk changing the known rhythm for disembarking from the deep craggy shore of the point.

The ship and the internal combustion engine passed the trip back to the mainland in silence, the sudden departure souring the taste of their debate.

The Dallot corps marched ever onwards, though the heat did slow them some when they came to a particularly pleasant river.

The pot said nothing. It was just a pot after all.