Utopia

The Mariners

‘Sir, that isle is inhabited.’ The ship’s lieutenant and second-in-command handed the telescope to the captain.

‘Hmm, that’s unexpected. There appears to be a jetty…boats…and yes, people are on the foreshore. The place looks utterly inhospitable.’ The captain refocused. ‘I believe they are literally living below a volcano.’ He handed back the telescope to his subordinate.

‘It seems to be active, a miasma is ascending from its summit, sir.’

‘Yes, I think we’d best have a closer look. Our arrival might be fortuitous. They appear to be facing imminent danger.

‘But—‘

‘Ready the men and arm them, first officer, and be quick about it. We will have to be ready for the unknown.’

‘Sir, are you sure. We—’

‘Lower the launch, Lieutenant,’ the captain commanded. That young man is too cautious by half, thought the captain. He’d taken him under his wing, and he’d proved a worthy officer. He was a little too officious, even cruel, when it came to shipboard discipline. Hopefully, he will learn to stay the whip to promote goodwill on board. The captain thought that his first officer was a work in progress.

The Utopians

A group of people, a village of people, in fact, lived on an isolated island. Vast mountains loomed at their back. From time to time, the tallest of the mountains issued plumes of yellow smoke, occasionally fire. Some ventured over the mountains and into the hinterland only to return with tales of terrifying wild beasts. They’d had no contact with other bipeds for millennia. They were happy and had all they needed for their continued survival. They had developed unusually sophisticated eyesight, allowing them to see much of the minutiae of their lives in a considerably favourable light. We would say they have something superior to 20/20 vision. If a fault could be aimed at them, then that might be their often fanciful notions. They believed themselves ato be lone on the planet, so they were unaware that their eyes were somewhat larger than normal, with wide pupils and lids rthat arely bblinked When they looked into each other’s eyes, it was as if they floated in a warm river of devotion, and when they perceived their achievements, it was with pride—hubris, some might say. Still, there was much of which to be proud.

They lived sumptuously in beautiful houses, and all their needs were catered to. No one lived in poverty, their leadership being both magnanimous and responsible. Crime was virtually unheard of, and when it did occur, punishment was even-handed. Their children thrived, their crops fertile, their domesticated beasts fat and abundant. Their crafts and culture were stimulating and progressive. They prided themselves on all the loveliness they saw around them—the cool and shady parks, the private bowers where the young visited to flirt and make love. Beautiful gardens were filled with produce and flowers. All they saw with their heightened imaginations and visual prowess served to accentuate the bounty of their lives.

One day, a vessel was sighted on the horizon. As it approached, the populace of the town came to the jetty to witness the fabulous vessel, sporting vast sails and an enormous hull. Their own boats were minuscule in comparison, never venturing any further than the twin headlands on either side of the bay. All the people could think of was how joyful it would be to share the splendours of their society, to thrill and laugh in the company of others.

The ship anchored in the middle of the bay, and a launch was lowered from the ship’s starboard side, while hatches opened along its length to reveal the muzzles of cannon. The town’s populace had no idea what they were and thus had no fear of them. Instead, they gaily waved as they approached the jetty.

The women donned their prettiest dresses and loosened their long hair to sway in the afternoon breezes. The Lord Mayor and the Sheriff strode forward, dressed in their finest livery.

‘Look at them, all dressed in black,’ the mayor whispered. ‘They look like a flock of ravens.’

‘Yes, and the weapons—I’ve not seen the like of them,’ the sheriff replied.

The newcomers indeed carried arms of steel and wood, tipped with knives. The most amazing feature of the newcomers, however, was what lay beneath their brows.

‘Note their eyes, so small and narrow, and they squint as if they were not open at all but focused inward, guided by some alien and instinctual memory of purpose,’ said the mayor.

‘I think we should be on our guard,’ said the sheriff.

‘Now you must not make this more complicated than it is. We are uncertain of their intent.’

But still, the populace was more excited than alarmed; as they had been alone for so long in their tiny paradise, they thought that all other communities had perished.

The mariners shipped their oars as the launch pushed the fishermen’s little boats aside and attempted to tie up alongside the jetty. As the inadequate structure groaned under the strain, the townsfolk cried, ‘Be careful!’ Too late. The launch rammed into one fishing boat, crushing it into the marshy shore. Another brushed aside and flipped over as if it were an annoying beetle. Shocked and offended by the cavalier treatment of their property, the boat owners called for the mayor and the sheriff to intervene. Most, though, pulled back from the jetty onto the lawn in anxious anticipation of what the visitors might do next. The children hid behind their mother’s skirts, and the excitement turned from excitement to apprehensive confusion.

Led by two tall men in plumed hats, the strangers leapt onto the jetty brandishing their weapons. Their small eyes, now in shadow, began to look sinister and unhappy—their disposition best described as sour revulsion. The vessels’ leaders moved towards the townsfolk, and some of their men withdrew cloths from their suits and held them to their noses. One coughed and spat on the jetty, another vomited. The captain spoke sharply to them, and they tried to compose themselves.

The town’s sheriff—hand on his ceremonial sword, an implement that had never been wet with the blood of a human being—stood on the lawn beside the mayor as the town’s most prominent citizens gathered behind.

‘Welcome to Utopia, you are all invited to abide and refresh yourselves here,’ the mayor said with a most sonorous modulation to his voice. He had the demeanour of a person experienced in authority, but the sheriff, a younger person, standing a little to the rear of the mayor, was anxious and alert. He was newly appointed and a little too impetuous, but the mayor, who was also his uncle, took him under his wing to better school him in the ways of authority. The sheriff’s position was not well used, for most of Utopia’s citizens were placid, content to let others make the decisions necessary to maintain their daily comfort. A young one might become subject to intoxication and evacuate his bladder on the lawn, or a farmer may illicitly introduce a neighbour’s heifer to his own herd. Offences dealt with by shunning for a period long enough to teach them their lesson.

The sheriff placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, even withdrew it from its scabbard in preparedness, but only an inch. He was completely inexperienced with the ways of battle, as was everybody else in the town. He experienced something other than bravery—trepidation leavened by curiosity. When the leader of the visitors spoke, he sounded vaguely foreign, but it was the same language the townsfolk used.

‘Ha! Utopia you call it, do you?’ The captain surveyed the people and the town, his tiny eyes near to closing below his strange hat.

‘Why, yes, we do,’ said the mayor.

‘What on earth are you talking about, my man? Is this some jape to which we are unaccustomed? How long have you survived here?’

‘The time is beyond number,’ said the mayor, somewhat put out by being addressed in the haughty manner and the unfamiliar phrasing. ‘No records exist of encountering others like us. You are the first.’

The captain continued to stare at the scene with stern consternation. His lieutenant beside him looked on with amazement. Their men, having disembarked the launches, stood on the narrow jetty, maintaining order as best they could.

‘We are not of your kind, sir,’ the captain said with indignation. ‘Look at yourselves and us, how can we be the same, you foolish creature. Your strangely enlarged eyes alone are evidence of the gaping chasm that lies between us.’ The captain’s words laced with both condescension and disbelief; the expression on his face was one of disgust.

The sheriff withdrew his sword another inch. The mayor, however, gestured for him to stay his hand and pulled himself up to accentuate the dignity of his office. ‘Surely, sir, your eyes have diminished, perhaps affected by long days of salt air. I warrant it must be difficult for you to perceive what is clearly in front of you—we are a sophisticated and cultured people. Furthermore, we mean no harm. You and your cohort will be treated as honoured guests, if you will allow it.’

‘Good grief, what a strange fellow you are to think we would abide any longer than we have to in your presence. The squalor of this camp is beyond any I have seen—and I have seen much. If such a thing were still legal, the lot of you would be better off enslaved.’

The mayor stared at the captain, clearly in confusion by his remarks. ‘But sir, I do not understand you. What do you…. Why do you say such things?’ He turned to the sheriff, and then the townsfolk gathered behind him, who continued to fidget and talk among themselves. The mayor conceded he may have misheard and was about to ask the captain to repeat himself.

‘What is your status here, sir, and that silly person beside you, what is he doing with that rusty blade. Is that some sort of hemp string holding both it in place and his britches up?’ Some of the soldiers laughed until the captain raised his hand to silence them.

The sheriff withdrew his sword completely and lunged at the impertinent captain, who merely stepped aside and extended his leg, tripping the fellow and causing him to land on the jetty with a thud. The lieutenant casually thrust his bayonet into the sheriff’s throat. While he lay dying, a great commotion broke out among the townspeople. While the women, then the children, began to wail as one, the men looked frantically at one another for guidance, but none was to be found. The mayor seemed to have descended into a gap-mouthed fugue.

The Mariners

‘I swear these creatures sound and behave positively porcine, lieutenant. My instinct tells me they would all be better off put to the sword. I fear, however, that would be deemed barbaric by our betters at home, the captain said.

‘I agree, captain, but what shall we do with them? They are deluded beyond reason. What on earth brought them to this parlous state?’ The lieutenant was agitated as he absently wiped his bayonet on the now deceased sheriff’s tunic, a rag really, made of some rough material. ‘They have degenerated into savages, dressed in these filthy rags, their feet shod in mud-caked sandals fashioned from reeds, I believe. Their squalid village seems to have been built over a fetid swamp, the houses looking as if they are made of mud and sticks and see there, sir, the barely cultivated field, a mass of rope-like vines and gnarled shrubbery. I do believe two of the disgusting creatures are rutting in the open over there.’ The lieutenant pointed to two young villagers who were copulating against a tree while they waited for the elders to complete their business with the strangers.

‘Good God,’ the captain replied.

‘These creatures appear to be diseased and starving, and yet they survive. I wonder what led them to believe they were of such a high standard of civilisation, when they exist in a state we would be ashamed to keep our livestock.’

‘There’s nothing for us here, my young friend. Let us leave them to it.’ He addressed the mayor one last time. ‘Look here, fellow, you and your scurvy rabble need to leave this island. See yonder, that volcano looks to be about to erupt.’

As the Captain and his Lieutenant stood on the deck of their departing ship, they pondered what they had seen in silent reverie. When the headlands of the strange land were a thin line on the horizon, and the sails had caught more than an adequate breeze, the captain pulled up his collar and produced a flask from his jacket, took a sip and offered it to his first officer.

‘That wretched creature came to a sticky end, lieutenant, but you must not dwell on the necessity of dealing with him so,’ the captain said.

‘I was forced to dispatch him, sir, but I admit, I took no joy in it.’ The lieutenant paused to take a draught from the flask and handed it back. ‘It is indeed odd that their own eyes had failed to make clear the wretchedness into which they had descended. It was as if the larger their eyes had evolved, the less they saw. Or should I say, their ocular understanding diminished in direct proportion to the size of their eyes. Oh dear, I fear I’m getting in a muddle. I cannot make sense of what my own eyes had seen, let alone theirs.’

The two men shared an uncomfortable chuckle.

‘That fellow Darwin, whom the natural philosopher chaps are making such a fuss about, might he like to see what we have today,’ said the captain.

‘Yes…who knows what ails mankind?’ the lieutenant said. ‘This nature science business falls short, likening people to monkeys! What next?’

‘Hmm, be that as it may, I hear that Mr Darwin has a series of illnesses precluding further sea voyages. I think he may not travel again.’ The captain took another sip from his flask before returning it to his pocket. He cast his eyes toward the horizon and had the countenance of one in deep thought. ‘There are many things that fail the test of our understanding. I have come to believe that the universe is vast and we are but one second in the continuum of time.’ The captain paused. ‘Mark me, Lieutenant; many scholars far wiser than we humble sailors have sought the true nature of the world and the cosmos alike, only to be confounded.’

‘Did you note, sir, the eyes of the creatures were not seeming of this world, to my thinking. But then, how can that be?’

‘I’ll allow it is most strange, I wonder how it was done. It appeared they had been birthed that way?’ The captain paused to give some thought to the situation. ‘This evening, I will make appropriate notes in the log about this encounter. We will be met with disbelief, so it is fortuitous we have a shipload of witnesses.

‘Look there, sir, I fear a storm is brewing.’

‘Indeed, it does. Do you feel that, lieutenant? It’s as if the very barrens beneath the ocean tremble with fear. It will be rough going this eve.’

That day and into the following night, a hurricane, the likes of which had never been seen, leapt into the archipelagos of the region. Adding to this, deep within the earth’s crust rattled a demon newly woken, and found issue with the lay of the ocean. In its wake, a great tsunami rolled across the ocean as though it owned the world. Neither soul nor ship survived its ruinous path.