Loxias

 

Lucian

"A true story"

Part 5

FIRST idea: a tunnel to the outside! We decided to tunnel through his left flank to the outside. Bad idea. We'd dug a hole about half a mile deep, but were getting nowhere. So we did the obvious thing: gave up. Second idea was more promising: set fire to the forest. This would raise his temperature, give him a fever and he would die. Then we would slip out and escape. We started the blaze at the tail end - though it quickly spread, but for seven days and seven nights there seemed to be no reaction. But on days eight and nine, he started getting groggy. He was opening his mouth less frequently, and for a shorter time. By day eleven he was definitely succumbing - and beginning to stink! On day twelve we belatedly realised we'd have to prop his jaws open - if he ever opened them again - or we'd be trapped inside a dead whale, and as good as dead ourselves. It must have been his last gasp: we just managed to wedge his mouth open with some long planks. We stocked the ship up with food and water, and prepared to sail.

By morning he was an ex-whale. We dragged the boat up through the gap we'd created, made her fast to the teeth, and lowered her gently down into the calm sea. We made camp on the beast's back, and stayed there three days, enjoying the fresh air. Then we set sail. We came across several floating corpses from the sea-battle - we landed on some, and measured them accurately. Wow!

Inside the belly of the whaleBut soon the weather changed dramatically. A fierce northerly wind sprang up, bringing biting cold. The sea froze - not just on the surface, but to a depth of about six fathoms. For a brief while, we got off the boat, and played around on the ice: but we couldn't stand the wind for long. We dug a deep cave in the ice, and stayed there for a month, with a good fire going. On it we defrosted and cooked the fish we'd found during the excavation. When we'd eaten them all, we had to come back up. We dragged the ship clear of the ice, spread the sails, and skimmed smoothly over the ice, just as if we were sailing. But after five days there was a thaw, and everything was wet again.

After twenty-five miles or so, we came to a small desert island. Luckily it was a desert island with water, as we'd run out by this time. We shot two wild bulls for meat - they were a bit strange as they had their horns underneath their eyes instead of on top of their heads: presumably this way they'd be able to see what they were stabbing with their horns rather better!

Shortly after this we entered an unusual sea - not full of the common or garden water, but of milk. We soon came to a great white island, which we soon discovered, by nibbling , was solid cheese…

THE Island of Cheese was about 3 miles round. There were vineyards aplenty, but the grapes, when squeezed, produced milk, not wine. There was a temple to the Milky One [Galatea : Greek gala=milk]. To eat there all we had to do was chomp a bit of the ground - and wash it down with milk from the vines. The ruler was said to be a Gorgon, Zola. [Lucian actually says it was Tyro, daughter of Salmoneus - tyros being Greek for cheese. ed.]

The isle of BrieWe stayed for five days, before setting out once more across the Milky Sea with a nice breeze behind us. Two days later, the sea was clear blue water once more. We saw a large number of people running over the sea. They were just like us in every way (normal size, thank goodness) - except for their feet. These were made of cork. Hence, with impeccable logic, they were called Corkfeet. It was amazing to see them strolling confidently about on top of the waves, in no danger of going under. Some of them came up and introduced themselves - in Greek. They were on their way home to Cork, they said. For a while they ran alongside the ship, eventually turning off to head homewards, wishing us the best of luck.

Soon we were among a group of islands. Closest, to port, was obviously Cork, a big round cork with a city on it. Further away, to starboard were five islands: large and high - fire was blazing up from them. But dead ahead, no more than 60 miles away, was one that was flat and low-lying. As we got nearer, a delightful breeze wafted over us, aromatic with all the perfumes of Arabia, as the writer puts it. [Herodotus, not Shakespeare actually. ed.] The sweet scents came from roses and narcissi, hyacinths and lilies and violets, from myrrh, and bay and vines in bloom. Excited by the fragrance, we had high hopes after all our vicissitudes. As we got gradually nearer, we saw sheltered harbours, and rivers emptying their crystal waters into the sparkling sea. Meadows, too, and woods, and birds singing in the branches. A sort of preternaturally pure aura enclosed the place - as soft breezes gently ruffled the woods, making the branches whisper with a continuous musical sound, like pan pipes. There was a distant sound of merriment - not noisy or rowdy - but the sound of a good party, where people are playing music, singing and dancing, or just chilling and enjoying the atmosphere. Entranced, we moored up and landed, leaving three men on the boat, and made our way inland.

As we strolled nonchalantly through a flowery meadow smelling the beautiful flowers…

… what happened? Have our friends' fortunes really changed, or is this going to be yet another disaster? Read on!

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