Fabula pergit.

Multi menses abierant, tanti vero ut nauta captus quo usque in carcere sub ponte teneri oblitus sit. Nauclerus quotidie introibat ut interrogat, sed non potente dicere, quoque tempore nauta tacite sedebat. Hos congressus adsueti sunt, atque tametsi suspicax captivi erat, nauclerus paulatim coepit fruere virum. Indicta amicitia erat, occulta sub ululatu naucleri silentioque nautae.

Sed omnibus noctis cum sol in marem succidit, illi duo discesserunt; nauclerus ad zothecam redii, timens ne captivus insidiator sit et nauta, ut lucem iterum inveniat, in cavea mansit. Sed omnibus noctis, illi duo occulos clauserunt et tenebras palpebrarum fructi sunt.

Many months had passed, so many, in fact, that the captive sailor had lost track of how long he had been held in the brig. The captain of the ship would enter the cell everyday to question the sailor, but still unable to speak, the sailor sat mute each time. They became accustomed to this tradition over this period at sea, and despite the captain’s suspicion of the prisoner, he slowly came to like the man. It was an unspoken friendship, hidden beneath the captain’s yelling and the prisoner’s silence.

But as the sun sank into the sea each day, the two men would part; the captain would return to his chamber, fearing that the prisoner could be a waylayer, and the sailor would remain in his cage, fearing he would never reach the light again. But each night, the two men would close their eyes and enjoy the darkness of their eyelids.

*****

Nauta sum. Lux est tenebrae meae.

I am the sailor. The light is my blindness.