Abraham's Way (a story in progress)

A traveler boarded a ship at dawn carrying only a book in his hands. Wearing no cloak for his back or food for his way but “the guide”. From that he would eat and be well. The little scholar, for he was no more than a boy, curled up in a corner and continued to read. He squinted in the light of the fading lamps as the craft set off to sea as the sailors manned their posts with an impression of perplexity smacked on their faces from the boy’s manner. But the dinars for the fare had been paid and the hour was late.
The captain adjusted the astrolabe, searching the heavens for a barring. The sky a haunting dome encrusted with jewels. Then with a proceeding heave- ho the waters welcomed the ship into their grasp. And as the haul was pulled off under the moon the young man thought of the abyss below filled with darting things that came in nightmares. But he remembered to not be afraid since the first mark of a pious man was that he need only fear the Lord. As he was thinking this the lamps burned out, a splash of salt issuing from the depths. Maybe from the spout of some hidden terror with rows of clenched teeth. But no. He must remain calm since the wise and pious man found truth in contemplations that dispels all darkness, including the murk below. As when the Lord saith: Let there be Light and so it was.
The ship went along its way, following winds beyond the sun. There in the cargo rest came easy. The quiet, lapping waters recalled his mother’s womb.
Sometime later the plea of gulls caught his upper-most ear , telling him that they had arrived at port. The birds no doubt yelling to each other about a nearby fish market where the plunder was thick. He had often wondered just why is was that scale-less eels had been declared an abomination by the Almighty. But no matter. He already had his bread. And with that he began to read again.
“Boy.”
Huh? He lifted his head from the papyrus still speechless from sounding out the vowels.
“Do you hear me boy?” a sailor bellowed in his face, his breath thick with a pungent aroma. “Do you even speak Arabic?”
“Yes.”
“Come on then. We must go ashore for supplies. There is a leak in the bow and the sails must be mended.”
“All right,” he replied softly tucking the parchment into his shirt.
“What is that you’re reading? You a scholar?”
“Sort of.”
“You should leave us such idle pursuits. Work and the sea will make a man out of you.”
He followed the sailor past the port and into the market he had smelled previously with his mind.
“Here,” the sailor gruffly indicated some fresh planks for the haul as he haggled endlessly with the merchant. “O.K. rob us then,” Yusuf blurted out in exasperation and motioned with his head for the boy to pick up the wares. They went further past booths selling gems, foodstuffs, and spices. Some of the more desperate vendors yelled out in shrill voices barely distinguishable from the odd beggar. As they went along the boy struggled to keep the planks centered over his shoulder. Now the linen merchant was no more agreeable than the last so the sailor ended the haggle section with an oath, handing a length of cloth to the boy.
The sailor helped the boy out with the load as they made their way back to the ship with the wares, carrying a plank in his stead, “So, where you from boy?”
“Mesir near Fostat.”
“Hmmm, but your accent is peculiar. It’s as if your vowels were mixed with clouds.”
“All I know is my family came from faraway. Near the edges of the Earth.”
“Hmmm. And yet I’ve noticed you keep reading that book written in strange letters.”
“They are the letters of my ancestors.”
“How strange,” the sailor took the linens and planks on board the craft.
Soon the captain emerged, a husky fellow with a beard, “So what’s your name, boy?”
“Abraham.”
“Like Father Abraham.”
The boy nodded his head.
“My name is Musa and this is my first mate Yusuf who I assume you’ve met.”
He indicated the sailor Yusuf who nodded his head as he exited the hold to accompany his captain, whispering something in his ear..
The captain adjusted his cloak, “We will be ready to depart tomorrow after repairs have been made.”
Abraham re-boarded the vessel and found his place in the cargo hold to continued reading aloud in a soft voice:.
“The pious man, the hasid, is careful to keep himself free from error. Therefore he must have purity of heart to avoid false opinions. For only that which is holy is pure. Now you shall meditate on these words day and night:’be thou holy as Your Lord is Holy.’ For this is the path of the pious and the pure.”
Yusuf entered the hold and caught these last words before the darkness ate them.
“Why, that’s Arabic I heard you reading. Just who were your ancestors Father Abraham?.”
“He is a Hebrew.,” Captain Musa interjected from the galley.
“Really?”
“But it is of no importance.”
Yusuf stood silent in the cabin for a moment watching Abraham as the boy continued deep in study, all but oblivious to his surroundings.
Confused the sailor turned his attention to his captain, “Where is he headed?”
“I told you. It is without importance. Now, fix the jib, I fear we’ll be meeting squalls on our journey.”.
The first mate became impertinent, “Now just where are we taking him?”
“Yusuf, oftentimes the end of speech is better than its beginning. Tend to that jib.”
Whatever the route they took, it was a treacherous one. The winds came like the captain said. And as the port drifted out of sight the stars were gone, buried beneath sheets of dark water. Abraham shuddered out of his trance as the storm approached overhead. The letters in his book began to bleed, sinking his heart into confusion. For if the Lord had created the cosmos with letters surely now He was unmaking it. And at the core of the storm was an unseeing eye that imposed an alphabet of destruction.
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The ink blots scattered as the letters slowly reassembled. And then Abraham noticed that the sky had once again been separated from the waters.
With no recognizable coastline it was clear they had left Africa behind. But as for where they had ended up the fates were silent. Yet the sky was of a different color than in Sudan. A violent ocher. And a peculiar scent wafted about the moorings as the passenger and crew came to their senses.
Yusuf groaned from his position midway between the galley and the head where he had become lodged during the storm, “Well captain, this is perfect. What about the normal route? That wasn’t good enough for the Jew?”
“Silence, you. Do not mettle in what you don’t know,” Musa grumbled back, his foot stuck in the jib.
Abraham alone had been able to escape such humiliation, sitting cross-legged in the cargo hold.
“Hey boy, “Yusuf yelled in the boy’s direction, “Why not read a bit more from that book of yours for a little encouragement.”
“Verily the just and wise man is prepared for all situations because he puts his trust in the Lord.”
“Thanks, yeah, I needed that” Yusuf yelped out as his knee banged against the makeshift latrine.
“For the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”
Musa wriggled helplessly from his place up in the rigging,
“Compared to this holy fear all other trials are nothing.”
With that Musa landed on deck with a loud thud.
“Oh, I am such a kafir,” the captain moaned.
“An infidel?” Abraham remarked.
“Yes, since I have no trust in Him,” the captain sadly admitted as he righted himself and took control of the wheel. “Otherwise this would never have happened.”
“But you will still take me?”
“Yes, my son, to the very end, inshallah.”
Yusuf looked on puzzled, wiping unmentionable gunk off his leg.
Still in open waters, the ship went along with the breeze that brought the same odor as before. An odor of some unknown spices. It was as if the sky were cracked and these smelly particles were pieces of paint that came raining down upon them. Also, the sea had changed to a milky green with bits of ocher mixed in.
Captain Musa muttered something as he checked his bearings and barked orders to Yusuf who complied with a look of suspicion. The adjustments made, the craft veered eastwards with the setting sun at its stern. The ocher tones wax violet, then black as the sea swallowed the last rays of gold. The night passed listlessly, Abraham reading by lamplight that sputtered on and off like the stars above.
Meanwhile, Musa and his first mate stood on deck sharing a cup of chai.
At one point Yusuf put down his cup, “Tell me then about this Jew and his damnable journey.”
“Yes,” Musa replied, “in due time.”
“Well?” Yusuf pushed him after a few moments, having no care for such “time”.
“A favor and a friend,” the captain intoned with a cryptic smile leaving Yusuf on deck muttering to himself.