Reaching Duwamish Bay

Strangely enough it was a smooth sailing, especially given the dire predictions of squally storms the evening before. Yet here we were, visitors all — some new, others returning to see if they could find again what they seemed to have lost. And not one of us, even those with the most delicate constitutions, had suffered the ill effects of a rough sea. The splendid dinners we had enjoyed on board that most hospitable ship remained where we had put them.As the sun rose higher in the vast and cloudless blue sky, reflected in the calm sea waters, the temperature of the air rose accordingly. The ship turned away from the horizon to begin it’s docking at the harbour of a tiny inlet known throughout these parts as Duwamish Bay. As the ship slowly edged its way to the wooden gangway we all began to emerge from our cabins in pairs and small groups to get, for some at least, a first glimpse of the island which promised all its visitors a journey such that no traveller has ever before experienced. A more unlikely and motley gathering of tourists has yet to be seen, and yet we all shared a taste for something previously unknown, a hope to see beyond the veil, if only for a brief moment. Such as we were, young and old alike, we hungered for the touch of what we knew not.

After disembarking the tiny groups began to drift off in various directions. I stood awhile on the shore, watching in wonder as a mist began to roll in from afar, way beyond the horizon, from further than any eye could see.

”Strange,”, I thought, ‘’since while we sailed there was no such mist in view, nor at least any that I could see.”

Where had such a dense fog emerged from so suddenly and in the wake of our heels as it were? And why did it seem to surround the entire island, or at least as much of it as I could make out from my present vantage point? Now it appeared as if the island had become completely cut off from all contact with any world beyond it’s shoreline. Was this the start of the storm promised the night before, or was it something else altogether? And why did no one else seem to notice?

Looking about me I saw then that someone else did indeed notice after all, and she also was watching the waves of mist drifting around the island, yet never actually passing beyond the shore. Was she as baffled as I about such a phenomenon? I began to walk slowly in her direction, holding my skirts up high as I tried to negotiate the many stones and small rocks scattered hither and thither around the beach.

”I really must find some more suitable footwear for this journey,” I thought to myself as I stubbed my toe yet again an a sharp stone.

As I drew closer to her I could see that she was quite young, hardly much more than 20 years or so. Her hair was long and wavy, held in place by no more than a thin ribbon tied around her forehead, with the long remaining fringes flowing down the length of her hair. Her attire consisted of little more than a white shift, and a long colourful skirt caught up in a rope tied around her tiny waist and revealing her slips underneath. She had the look of a gypsy about her, and yet there was an air of something else, something both almost familiar and yet mysteriously unreal.

”Good afternoon”, I greeted her with a friendly smile, catching her eye momentarily before glancing back out to sea.

”Hello”, she answered quietly, though not as timidly as I had expected.

”Have you just arrived off the ship just now?”

”No ma’am. I have been a resident in these here parts for some time now.”

”Do you have family or friends nearby?”

”No, neither friend nor foe await me here. I arrived alone and have remained so.”

This scanty information I had managed to glean so far merely whetted my appetite and curiosity for more!

”Are you perhaps following the path of she whom we know as L’Enchanteur?”

On hearing L’Enchanteur’s name she lifted her head and looked me in the eye. A glimmer of recognition passed across her face, and the beginning of a smile played at the edge of her lips.

”Indeed yes I have heard of your L’Enchanteur. This island is one of her many favourite haunting spots. But no, I am not a follower of hers. I work for her.”

And with that answer she threw her head back and laughed full out loud.

At first I felt completely startled by this outburst, but then her humour was so infectious that soon I too began to laugh with her, although what exactly we were laughing at I was not quite so certain. A small voice at the back of my mind fervently hoped that the joke was not on me.

When her laughter and merriment had spent itself she turned to look at me, taking in my appearance from head to toe. A strange sensation overtook me. It occurred to me that this was not a superficial assessment based on my clothes and appearance. Rather I felt as if she penetrated my my inner being and saw me as I am, and not as I project myself on to the world. This brief encounter, for such it was, left me feeling quite vulnerable and unsettled. But then she laughed again and taking my hand in hers began talking to me, soothing me even with the musical lilt of her voice.

”Come this way with me. I know somewhere where you can stay while you are visiting this island. Later we shall send word back to the ship’s porter and have your luggage sent up to your rooms.”

And so it was, that without even knowing her name, I entrusted my self to the care of this young gypsy woman.

Soul Sister