Og Finds a Raft
One morning while ambling down an ancient beach on the western coast of what would one day be known as Africa, Og came upon a large raft-like tangle of driftwood, bobbing in the surf. The beach was in fact littered with huge pieces of weathered driftwood and debris, the result, no doubt, of some calamitous storm years before. Og’s cohort—some might call it his extended family–was up above the beach, gathering seabird eggs and blackberries in the tall grass.
Proto-humans such as Og had only recently emerged onto the coastline from the depths of Africa’s savannas and rain forests, so their experience with maritime ecosystems, watercraft and navigation was still hundreds of thousands of years distant. They were little more than monkeys playing on the beach. But unlike their ape cousins, these hominids could walk upright, had slightly larger brains, and the rudiments of speech. While only a few thousand of them populated the continent, they were an adventuresome lot.
Og saw that the raft was starting to drift away from the shore as the tide receded. So, following a playful impulse, he waded into the gentle surf and climbed onto the nearest branches. The raft was large enough to support his weight, but his instincts drove him to climb to the center of the raft. The weight shift was sufficient to detach the raft completely from the sand, and it began to bob gently in the waves.
“Haaaa!!! Hahnnnnh!!” he shouted to the others on the ridge. His mate, Ng waved back and the children and the Old Woman shouted in delight at Og’s discovery. The Old Cousin ignored the ruckus, as usual, but Ng shouted to ask if he was finding any food on the raft, which of course he would not reveal to her. He’d eat it all himself, she knew. Why she stayed with this lazy fool was puzzling to her but she had no answer.It soon became evident that Og’s raft was taking him away from the edge of the shore. The tides on this part of the Atlantic Ocean were strong. Two of the children clambered down the grassy slope and skittered across the beach towards their father. They called to him, imploring that he come fetch them aboard his raft to go bobbing in the waves. But old Og just ignored them as he made himself comfortable.After a while, however, Og realized–as did those watching him on shore–that he was drifting, drifting, drifting…away. Og realized he could not just climb off his raft and walk to shore any longer. The water was far, far deeper than any in which he’d ever waded–even though he could still see the bottom. He looked towards his cohorts on the beach who were now screaming and shouting for him to come back. He was sufficiently far away that he could no longer hear them over the sound of the surf and the cries of the numerous seabirds, still shrieking at the family who had stolen their eggs.
Og was now adrift, helpless and uneasy.
By the time the sun slid below the horizon, Og was utterly alone upon the sea. The shoreline was barely discernible in the distance.
The waves had increased to six-foot swells, and a chill wind blew against Og’s slightly hairy, muscular body, except for his long locks and unruly beard. He occasionally sobbed and thumped his heavy brow with his fist, hoping to see a vision of what he should do or was to become of him. He did not dare fall asleep, despite the fog that muddled his mind as darkness fell, as it always did.
Despite his anxiety, Og was now ravenous, especially when he thought of all the tern eggs and fresh blackberries his cohort had gathered. Would they save him any? Not likely, he knew.
When something thumped the bottom of the raft, Og stood up with a growl and peered into the black spaces between the driftwood logs. He could see movement but not determine what kind of creature it was. Eventually, it disappeared into the depths.
Some time later he saw that the water was glowing in places. He reached down to touch it and was amazed to find that his splashing created more of the eerie light. It reminded him of something he’d seen once as a boy in he forest at night. He missed the forest, and his brother, who was killed by a hippo around the same time.
Occasionally he could hear seabirds calling as they flew overhead; It merely deepened his hunger for eggs. But soon the thought of eating was replaced by something Og had not experienced since he was a child: nausea. The raft’s gentle rocking was making him seasick. A chill came over him and he began to retch…
Eventually, dawn’s faint glow emerged from the darkness. Og, who now lay uncomfortably sprawled over the raft lifted his eyes to the horizon and delighted to see a heavily treed shoreline less than a mile away. His seasickness had abated.
With the increasing light, Og noticed that he could also see the sea floor clearly and he knew it was shallow enough for him to climb down from his raft. Tentatively, he stepped down into the chilly waist-high water with an involuntary gasp as he did. The bottom was sandy, and small fishes darted about him, occasionally nibbling his legs and groin. He let go of the raft and began to wade to the shore, now only several hundred feet away. The soft, uneven sand often gave way to his stride and he fell often.
Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed a long, black form moving quickly around him. The creature came closer, exposing a fin above the water. Og grew anxious when he realized the fish was as large as himself; he wished it would move on and not nibble his legs as the smaller fish had. He tried to move more rapidly, but at once tumbled in a dip of the sandy bottom. This time he fell completely under the surface and became disoriented. When he saw the huge fish’s open mouth rapidly moving toward his face he struck at it instinctively and repeatedly until the fish turned away from him, Og raised his head above the water, coughing and spitting, the salt water stinging his nostrils. He spun around to see the fish’s fin flash by again, then disappear.
Og knew he was likely to die a horrible death if he didn’t get to the shore very quickly, and the realization, accompanied by the blast of adrenaline coursing through his body, helped him move faster than ever. He was now almost leaping out of the water with each stride.
The force of the blow of the fish as it hit Og’s upper right leg momentarily disguised the pain of the bite. He kept his balance, however, and twisted around to hit the fish squarely on the nose. The fish disappeared again, as Og’s blood began to cloud the water. The pain was not sufficient to slow Og’s progress–indeed, he now moved even more swiftly.
The sandy bottom suddenly dropped out from under Og and he tumbled underwater. He felt himself being pulled along rapidly by a current for a few moments before he again touched the murky bottom. He pushed hard with his good leg and bounded above the water again. As he did, Og filled his lungs with air and found himself half-standing on a sandbar which stretched toward the shore. It was too shallow to allow the fish to pursue him any longer.
Og stood for a while, breathing heavily. He looked at the nearby water and saw the fin still moving quickly about, searching for the source of blood in the water. He then turned back toward the shore and began plodding, with a limp, toward the palm-covered beach ahead.
He made a mental note to avoid playing with rafts.
