Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

CHAPTER 23

THE DRAGON’S MOUTH

SOON ALL SIX OF the travelers were seated in the boat, alongside the jug of fresh water and basket of bread, olives, and salted fish. Then the ferryman waded into the river and gave the Swift a hefty shove to help it out of the shallows.

“Remember, Argos, son of Arestor, is my name,” the ferryman called after them, his arm held up in a salute. “If you ever need a swift ship built, you know who to send for.”

“I’ll remember,” Jason called back. “Perhaps one day we’ll make a voyage worthy of your son’s memory.”

The boat had been equipped with two pairs of oars, one each for Argos and his son. Now Jason, Acastus, Idas, and Admetus were squeezed side by side onto the two benches with an oar each to handle. Lynceus was seated at the back, where he could watch the course ahead and cry out corrections to the rowers. Occasionally he thumped out a beat for them with the flat of his hand.

Alcestis leaned over the front of the boat like a figurehead, trailing her fingers in the water. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for river nymphs,” she said.

“Better yet, look out for rocks,” her brother told her.

At first Jason found the sensation of water beneath him unsettling; he half expected the boat to sink suddenly, leaving them all to flounder in the swift-flowing river. But soon his unease gave way to a sense of freedom, and he felt as if he’d been born to be on a boat.

Once the rowers had settled into their rhythm, the sweep of the oars and the force of the current drove the craft forward like a bird, skimming over the surface of the water. With the sun shining overhead and the fresh breeze in their faces, they all felt their strength renewed.

“The centaurs will have to go the long way around the lake,” said Acastus, “while we can go directly across. We might even overtake them, if we’re lucky.”

“Yes, if we’re lucky,” Jason agreed. For the first time in days he felt a small measure of hope in his heart.

They rowed for hours until they all felt as if their arms would drop off. Pausing only briefly for a few mouthfuls of bread and olives and fish, and a gulp of water, they rowed steadily on.

By now the river was growing narrower and faster. So wide and relatively placid back at Argos’ ferry, it had become a seething torrent, bubbling and frothing under the keel of the speeding boat. They rowed now not to propel the boat forward but to stop it from hitting rocks or diving down huge, cascading riffles. They were all wet from spray, and when the sun dropped behind occasional clouds, the air grew cool, even chilling. Alcestis was trembling with cold, as was Lynceus, but the rowers perspired from their efforts.

Along the shoreline, the grass gave way to moss-covered crags that reared up on either side like the ill-tended walls of an abandoned city. The rushing water in that stony valley sounded like a long hoarse breath.

“We could pull ashore here,” Lynceus said, “and make the rest of the journey on foot.”

“And find Iolcus a dead city?” said Acastus. “Never! We go on to the lake.”

Now they fell under the shadow of the cliffs, and the air grew suddenly darker and colder.

“I hope we’ve made the right choice,” Admetus worried. “None of us are sailors.”

“Argos said the boat could make it,” said Jason.

Lynceus sighed. “You’re putting a lot of confidence in him. He’s only a ferryman.”

“I think he’s a lot more than that,” Jason said.

“Rock dead ahead!” Alcestis shrieked, pulling herself back from the front of the boat.

Lynceus half stood, then sat down abruptly, screaming, “Pull left! Hard left!” He signaled with his hand and shouted again, “Left!”

The rowers dug their oars into the water and tried to drag the Swift from her course, but it was too late. The prow glanced off the rock, and the boat jerked aside as if she had been punched in the jaw. She spun around in the churning water, then righted herself and slipped back into the center.

“What’s happening?” Alcestis called out in a quavering voice. “Are we sinking?”

Jason leaned over, quickly examining the hull. “No, there’s no damage,” he assured her. “Argos built her to handle rough waters.”

Now they used the oars only to fend off the approaching rocks.

Suddenly Jason felt a chill mist at his back, like a puff of icy breath. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a cloud of spray filling the canyon ahead.

“Listen to that noise!” Acastus cried.

The rush of the water was getting louder, booming off the canyon walls. Lynceus was peering through the mist, straining his eyes to the utmost.

“Hang on tight,” he warned. “All that spray can only mean one thing.”

“Waterfall,” Jason said under his breath.

“What?” Admetus, his seat partner, strained to hear.

“Waterfall!” Jason shouted.

The sound of crashing water was almost deafening now, and the little boat was completely engulfed in spray.

“Hang on!” Lynceus cried again.

Alcestis began uttering a steady stream of prayers, calling on Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, and every other god she could think of to protect them. A gut-jarring lurch cut her off as the boat launched into the air.

For a few breathless seconds the Swift really was flying: down, down, down the side of the falls. The boys and Alcestis had to hold on to the sides of the boat in order not to be thrown into the roiling river.

Then the Swift hit the water again with a sickening smack that pitched her little crew flat on their faces. The boat spun helplessly in powerful eddies as one by one the boys scrambled back to their places, grabbing at the oars that threatened to slide out of their locks. Alcestis alone remained where she’d been thrown.

“Grab your oars and try to steady her!” Jason yelled above the noise of the river, and the boys were quick to do his bidding.

They stabbed the oars into the water, using them to resist the whirling currents. Gradually they gained control of the Swift and managed to aim her prow directly downstream once more.

“To the right!” Lynceus yelled.

Ahead of them, a round boulder rose out of the water like the humped back of a giant serpent. The rowers tried to turn the boat, but the rapids had them completely in their grip. Idas tried to fend the boulder off with his oar, but the impact knocked the oar out of his grasp.

“Look out!” he yelled, leaning into the water and retrieving the oar.

Now the driving current slammed them against the rock, and they were jolted to the right. The boat shivered and bounced on the water.

“It’s all right!” Lynceus exclaimed with a nervous laugh. “We’re still afloat.”

“Hold on to your oars!” Acastus ordered. “There are plenty more rocks ahead!”

The Swift swerved and tilted, the prow rising suddenly upward, then dipping sharply away.

“More spray ahead!” Lynceus warned.

They held tightly to their oars. This time Alcestis was not alone in her prayers.

The next waterfall was bigger and higher. The rushing torrent threw the Swift into the empty air. Screams erupted all around. Idas, forgetting his prayers, hurled a bitter curse at the gods for their indifference.

This time when they came down, it was with a smack that threw them to the floor of the boat in a tangle of limbs. A huge plume of water erupted from the stern and crashed down on them.

“We’re going to sink!” Admetus cried.

“There’s a jug here somewhere.” On his stomach still, Lynceus scrambled about, looking for the jug.

“I’ve got it!” Alcestis called, and immediately started bailing by scooping up water and flinging it over the side.

Jason pulled himself onto his knees. Gazing in horror through the spray, he saw that they were headed straight for a rock as sharp as the beak of a monstrous bird. Clearly it would stab right through the hull and smash the boat to splinters. Leaping to his feet, he seized his oar and lunged, driving the oar at the rock. The wood snapped in two under the impact, and Jason was thrown off his feet. His arms flapped uselessly, and he toppled over the side into the churning water.

Lost in the chaotic flood, he kicked upward with all his might. His head broke the surface and he coughed, spitting out water. The eddies twisted him giddily about; the river spun around him in a blur of silver-and-white foam.

Then he saw the keel of the Swift veering sharply toward him. He tried to grab a breath and dive under it, but too late. The edge of the wood smacked him in the head. Pain lanced his skull. Blackness closed over him, and he was sucked down into the hungry waters.