The Isle of Gold

I had willingly joined the legions that dove into the unknown. The romance of this world stirs my soul; I cannot live in peace in lands already known. But when I awoke in the sand on that beach, I had lost everything, my every comfort and my every necessity. I had spent the previous week in that dying vessel, starving, sipping from a single canteen, drifting in the windless Sea, lost in her sinuous curves. I remembered spotting land for the first time since I had set forth, and I remembered struggling weakly to shore like a man at the end of a too-long race. And now I remembered waking up, with sand in my mouth.

I thought I should feel excitement now that I had solid ground once more beneath my feet. Here I was, beyond known lands, beyond the furthest reaches of knowledge, beyond civilization and beyond safety—where all the wonders of the world waited for my hands and for my eyes. And yet, all my dreams and visions were as dry as dust. I wanted one thing only, and it was the commonest thing in creation. I wanted a cup of water.