Day Five Hundred Eighty Six #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

It was the same warship that loomed over us at the last port. Manned, not robotic. They brought instructions for how our ship is to be handed over.

The port authority briefed our Captain this morning. We are to sail to the mainland, the gateway to the East, and turn the vessel over to the global transport service, based there.

Elijah is elated. He says it is exactly where we need to be next.

However the Captain thinks we won’t be able to go right away. He refuses to make the trip without shipments, and currently there are none from this port. And then there’s the matter of our trading without the mark.

It may be the final stumbling block.

Day Four Hundred Forty Nine #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Heavy rains moved in today. The Captain’s concern grew when the wind picked up. He ordered the ship underway after a thorough checking of the lashings. In charge of that detail, Tomas had some of them doubled.

I watched from the bridge as the shoreline slid by. Elijah pointed out the rickety staircase by which we climbed up off the beach. The wind then died and a mist settled in along the coast of the island.

We were no sooner into the channel between the island and the mainland when the wind freshened. And within seconds day turned to blackened night and the wind mounted in ferocity.

The Captain commanded the ship about and we sailed away from our destination.

Day Four Hundred Thirty Nine #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

The dust of many a mile had coated our limbs by our arrival before the walls of this port city. And like we found its sister port on the mainland behind us, no gates were open. And no one presented themselves to greet us or send us away.

Elijah set our immediate agenda. We washed off in a public fountain outside a closed gate. Then we proceeded to skirt around to the nearest point from which to view the harbor.

He judged the day too far spent to allow us time to trek around to the far side of the city. So we set up camp and built a larger than usual fire.

Perhaps they will come out to us.

Day Four Hundred Thirty Four #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

The fog lifted with the early morning breeze. You would think that would make a substantial difference in our headway. But it did not. In a couple of instances our forward movement was halted altogether by the incoming tide.

It was not time lost in our estimation. It was time to get our minds off of our problems and onto the One who holds the solutions. And I think we more than made up for our delay during those times when the tide was out. Way out.

By day’s end our progress was such that the port city came into our view. And like the one behind us on the mainland it appears to be untouched by the Great Destruction.

Day Four Hundred Thirty Three #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

An interruption in the night (that is, the incoming tide) chased us further up the beach.

Upon dropping us off yesterday, the fisherman pointed west to indicate in which direction the island’s port city lay. So we set our sights to explore that quarter.

So far we have encountered no roads, and any and all paths have only led us up against a high wall of rock.

The lingering fog hides the features of the surrounding area. We can only surmise that this beach is hemmed in by the sea and the towering cliffs of the mainland, and hence the beach itself is our only available pathway.

Every so often the fog rises and we see ships in the distance.