Sailing aboard the Pneuma (Part Seven)

“We will make landfall by sunset”, came a voice from the upper deck. The day had been warm and calm, yet there had been something very different about the horizon. Instead of its usual inviting clarity, there seemed to be a thick fog hanging in the distance. It never got any closer but remained shackled to the edge of the world.

Everything on board remained normal. The men carried on with their tasks, talking and laughing as they did so. From time-to-time, there was a little tomfoolery as the crew joked and tussled with one another. Shekinah held his post and surveyed the scene before him like a benevolent father watching his children play around him.

I could not help feeling a little apprehensive about our announced arrival in port later that day. For the first time on this voyage I did not have an excited anticipation but rather a sense that all was not as it had so far been. While all the experiences thus far had been exciting, positive, and enthralling, what lay ahead this time was anticipated with something not far short of foreboding.

On every other occasion I had remained on deck to view the land we were about to visit. That day, all I wanted to do was go below decks and wait out the visit in the safety of the bowels of the ship. I made my way to the stairway that led down from the deck. As I descended, I saw Shekinah waiting for me on the landing. “It is not the same, is it?” he asked without requiring an answer. I wanted to get past him to my quarters, as I knew any answer I might give would be a pathetic attempt at dodging going ashore. The words flowed anyway, “Why is this day so different? As the evening approaches I just have a growing desire not to be here anymore.” I felt I had insulted him. I was sure that he was thinking that as long as things were pleasurable, exciting and rewarding I was quite happy, anything else and I was not quite as keen.

The warmth of his character permeated his response. “No one likes the unpleasant and everyone would like to avoid the challenging unknown.” His response was as welcome as it was unexpected. Surely, I thought, he never felt as I currently did. “More than once.”

I felt his hand upon my shoulder, firm, but gentle. He gave an affectionate squeeze and said, “I know this place, stay with me and you will be just fine”.

The harbour was dark save a few torchlights burning vigorously against the wall that ran alongside the quay. The flames of those torches seemed to duel with a wind seemingly intent on blowing them out. The wind here was completely different to the breeze I had grown used to on the voyage. This breath was wild and unrestrained. It seemed vindictive as if it wanted to cause damage and pain. Evidence that it had been successful was readily in evidence once one was ashore. There was a fallen tree just outside the dockyard gates and further up the dimly lit street I could make out fallen branches. The roofs of the nearby houses also seemed to be shy a tile or two.

The Pneuma lay at the quayside bathed in her own light. At that moment, I noticed that there was no source for that illumination; it just existed. The quay itself was slippery underfoot as if rarely cleaned. In fact, in some places, it was as slippery under foot as are regularly submerged rocks at the seaside that have algae and seaweed growing upon them.

The windswept street that began at the gates led away into the darkness. There was no evidence of any life in the dimly illuminated thoroughfare other than the sound of some angry voices emanating from one or two of the nearby houses.

As I made for the street, I remembered Shekinah’s words, “I know this place, stay with me, and you will be just fine”. Suddenly, I felt no desire to proceed without him.

We walked briskly up the street. As we did, the shadows retreated just enough for me to see where we might be going. His stride was long and strong. The houses that flanked the street on either side had their curtains drawn allowing only silhouettes of life to escape. The wind howled malevolently around the rusty lampposts and through the branches that remained attached to their trunks. A gate creaked back and forth, in what seemed a vain attempt to close itself.

Eventually, we arrived at a large and imposing building that loomed up out of the shadows. It was set further back from the street than the houses on either side of it. A traveller hunched against the cold attempting to duck the biting wind may have easily missed the presence of this structure. It had an impressive entranceway with huge double doors flanked by stone lions and a huge wooden eagle hovering over the entranceway. The door handles were fashioned in the shape of doves at rest. Shekinah turned the handle and we entered a foyer that was every bit as warmly illuminated as the Pneuma. All foreboding fell away. He looked at me as he turned away to proceed inwards, I am sure I caught him smiling.

A tall woman with strong but attractive features walked over to us. Her greeting was polite but not without genuine warmth. Nothing about her demeanour was overstated. Back home I would have considered her genuine and dedicated to her task, whatever that was.

She gestured for us to follow her. We entered, to my dismay, shock, and perhaps horror, a hospital ward. There were ten beds in the ward, each one occupied. Some, it appeared, had broken limbs, others were ill with complaints that were not immediately obvious. Three nurses attended each bed. Somehow, they did not crowd each other, but seemed to glide in a choreographed flow of service and care.

Like a child, I found myself tugging at Shekinah’s sleeve. He turned to me smiling, “yes, what’s up?” My immediate thought sarcastically repeated his question, “what’s up? What do you think; this place is full of sick and injured people. Such should not be the case where you are.” As far as I could remember, my questions were unspoken, but he answered just the same. “Why should there be no hospitals where I am? My being does not preclude the possibility of trouble or suffering. What trouble and suffering do guarantee is that I will be there where they manifest.”

He moved swiftly from bed to bed, yet his quickness of movement did not detract from the quality of fellowship he had with each patient, if that makes any sense. He left each bed with its occupant glowing and the three in attendance positively beaming.

He walked back over to where I had remained rooted. “”We will sleep here tonight.” I waited for us to be ushered from the ward to our quarters. My wait was in vain. Sensing my disquiet Shekinah said, “We will sleep here with our friends. The tall woman returned with four men carrying two beds.

(to be continued).