We Float Upon a Painted Sea
salty tales of the holme’s family

During the night the rain returned and the North Star vanished behind a blanket of cloud. Andrew cut the engine. They dropped anchor and decided to bed down for the rest of the night. Andrew couldn’t sleep. In the morning he went up on deck and surveyed the featureless seascape. No land. Later, Bull followed him with two bowls of cold porridge. After breakfast they discussed if a dark line on the horizon was the coastline or a ribbon of slow moving cloud. When the contour changed shape and merged with the sky, they contemplated their next move. Bull looked around at the grey ocean and said,

“Christ’s sake, this is hopeless.” Andrew looked at Bull, licking his bowl clean and said,

“We’ve had enough bad fortune without you exacerbating the situation by blaspheming.”

“It’s just a common expression. Anyway, I don’t believe in God, so it’s not blaspheming.” Andrew looked at the grey sky and said,

“What do you believe in, if not in God?”

“I don’t go for the theory of an omnipotent deity, but I don’t have a problem with others believing whatever they like. It’s religion I have difficulty with, particularly the fundamentalist movement and their attempts to force feed us their views, whether we’re open to them or not. I prefer to keep outside religion.”

“As a child, my father would march my brother and I to church every Sunday and when we returned we were forced to read the Bible. I must admit, at the time, I hated Sundays. I wanted to walk out into the hills or play in the woods or go fishing with my grandfather, but I’m not so resentful now. In hindsight, it has made me a better person. It instilled in me a discipline which has remained with me through-out my years. There’s a time for work and play but more importantly there’s a time for prayer.”

“What has discipline got to do with religion?”

“Everything. Without discipline, you can’t have religion. There’s an order to life and religion is at its centre. It’s about taking responsibility and living our life through Christ’s example.”

“Christ’s example? I was under the impression, from my limited teachings, Christ was about love and tolerance. How many wars, all the way through history, have been fought in the name of God? How much trouble has been started by religion? Let’s suppose there was a God, do you think he would be pleased with the way his creation has turned out? All the bigotry, slaughter and torture carried out in his name? It’s a contradiction.” Andrew fidgeted in his seat. His haemorrhoids were playing up again and he didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking. He said,

“Not all wars were started as a result of religion, and granted, although some were, the people believed at the time they were fighting evil and doing God’s work. It was a different back then, you can’t judge ancient societies by modern standards.” Bull drummed a slow beat on the hull with his fingers. He said,

“What is evil? How would you define evil?”

“The Bible says...”

“I want to know what you classify as evil in a modern sense, not an inapposite quote from a two thousand year old book.”

“Evil is the opposite of good. Anyone with moral values can easily make the distinction.”

“But morals are abstract. Religious morals are absolutistic and not concerned with an individual’s intentions. Take science for instance. Most scientists believe they have ethics and their actions progress civilisation, but religion has always tried to restrict science.”

“What about laboratory experimentation on living creatures? Is that ethical?”

“This is the point I’m trying to make. Ethics are relative. Scientists, well at least the rational ones, have long-term objectives which they believe to be beneficial to mankind, but the journey there may require some short-term morally contentious decisions. I’m sure scientists don’t want to experiment on animals, but their justification derives from an ethical position. It’s for the greater good, which to them is the preservation of humanity.”

“I’m not sure what point you are trying to make, but it seems to me you don’t believe religion has a part to play in life. I disagree. Not all religion is malevolent. Religion still has something to offer. Faith can play a part in all our lives. It can bind society together.”

“It seems to me religion divides society rather than brings it together. Modern civilisation has outgrown religion. Power now lies in politics, law, multinational conglomerates and the media. But it’s the desire of power which is evil. With power comes corruption and the evil once resided in religion has evolved and jumped ship. Following the money. We still have conflicts over things like mineral drilling rights or the control of markets, but that’s not what they tell the public. They’re told how wars are a consequence of a struggle to protect our democracy, our freedom and our faith. It’s just tribalism disguised as culture and heritage, but wars are conducted for the same unadulterated reasons. Human greed. Religion has been complicit in this cunning deception.”

Andrew rubbed his forehead with a clenched fist. He contemplated his faith and how recently he had found it easier to walk away rather than stay and defend his beliefs in the face of constant challenges. He said,

“I think you are over simplifying things, just a wee bit.”

“I’m not insulting anyone’s beliefs but I think it is religion that has over simplified morality and in doing so has made an enormous non-tax paying industry out of it. You accused me of blasphemy. I’m explaining my beliefs by offering you an alternative theory. Surely your faith isn’t so weak it can’t stand the slightest of examination or criticism?”

“You’re not saying anything I haven’t heard before.” Bull shrugged, he glanced down at the sea. He watched a shoal of jellyfish float by under the boat. Finally, he said,

“One day I’ll tell you a story of my nan. She was from a small community in Alsace, called Col du Donon. She was proud of her Celtic heritage. She was a Druid and worshiped their gods. She was hounded for her beliefs and driven from her village by Christians like you.”

“I have never hounded anyone for their beliefs,” stated Andrew. He remembered a time when he was a member of the Kelso Young Earth Debaters Society. They had turned up at a local Humanist’s house who had started a petition against the establishment of a Creationist Zoo in the town. Things had turned ugly and the police were called. Later the young debaters marched to the Market Square to burn science books. He turned to Bull and said,

“So what are you saying? Everything we believe in is based on lies and we should revert to druidism, conduct human sacrifices and worship the sun?” Bull sighed,

“My point is the message has been lost in translation. In my opinion, people who follow religion are too ready to believe without question, instead they refer to various versions of translated, uncorroborated ancient writings as a blueprint for life. This is why religion is so preoccupied with children’s education, because it requires indoctrination as it doesn’t stand up to questioning. At its fundamentalist level it appeals to the gullible and at the sub intellectual and thrives on fear and paranoia to fuel its popularity. At a certain level it gets reactionary. Thankfully most of you are rational and just switch off and bury your heads in the sand and say something supercilious like, I feel sorry for your kind.” Andrew shook his head from side to side. He examined the palms then the backs of his hands. He took his lure from his pocket. He unravelled it and began to fish. He said,

“I do feel sorry for your kind. I was taught God created the heavens and the earth, and he alone was responsible for everything, seen and unseen. I feel content in this knowledge. I know the answers to the questions you have raised, whereas you are still looking for them. God created me; he even created you, although why and for what reason, I’ll never understand. He created the sea and the creatures living in the sea. He even created the storm, even though it nearly killed us, and the wave that capsized the ship. God is the engineer behind the Universe.”

“I think you will find the wave was brought about by a landslide in the North Atlantic, probably caused by drilling and the storm was caused by a differential in atmospheric pressure, on account of solar radiation, but I’m not a meteorologist so I might be wrong.” Andrew considered Bull’s statement. He said,

“You’re right about one thing; you’re not a meteorologist and even they, as with all scientists are capable of getting their calculations wrong. I wouldn’t put all my faith in science.” Bull replied,

“Ok, say you’re right, and God does exist. He creates everything you say, but in that case he creates viruses and diseases? And he just doesn’t get involved when his masterplan goes awry? He just watches while his chosen starve to death, get flooded out their homes and go to war in his name. He just shrugs his shoulders. A bit ambivalent, this God of yours isn’t he?”

“You are just trying to provoke me, but I’m not going to let you. Making your opponent angry, is this your measurement of success when debating against people of faith? You’ve got your opinions and I have mine. Let’s leave it here.”

“I have no intention of making anyone angry. Just stop and think first before you accuse someone of blasphemy, they may not share your beliefs.”

Andrew cast his lure into the water. He thought of Simon Peter, the fisherman who became Christ’s apostle and the rock on which Christianity was built. He was martyred for his beliefs in Rome, thought Andrew. Bull stared out towards the sea. For a moment he thought he saw a ship on the horizon but he concluded it was most probably another dark cloud. Bull said,

“I can’t help feeling the wave was on account of methane hydrate drilling in the Atlantic. You probably think it was God punishing us.”

“Why cultivate a blame culture? Sometimes things just happen.”

“I don’t want to sound misanthropic but we’re getting what we deserve. All the waste, all the deforestation, all the pollution and the greenhouse gases we have spewed out over the years. It has all come back to haunt us.”

“This has nothing to do with global warming. Anyway, there’s just as much scientific evidence supporting climate change as a natural cyclic phenomenon and man’s contribution is negligible.” Bull narrowed his eyebrows in bewilderment. With a mocking laugh, he said,

“What was that? Another one of your brain farts? Look around you Sherlock. Have you been living in a cave for the last century? The research you’re talking about is undertaken by the same tiny minority of discredited scientists, despite evidence from an army of reputable climatologists. These crappy reports written by these phoney scientists, who receive funding from the free-market think-tank, the Institute of Economic Affairs, a group of deniers funded by the fossil fuel industry, never get further than the peer review stage. But somehow the corporation controlled media latch on to their skewed findings, using their so-called research to plant a seed of doubt in the minds of the public.”

“And why would they contrive such a story?”

“They have a vested interest in suppressing the renewable energy sector because they compete with their dirty energy projects and threaten to undermine their financial investments. Industry has always tried to influence politicians and government policy, but the fossil fuel industry are the most sinister. That’s why we’re stuck on a ledge, waiting to take a tumble into the abyss.”

“I think I preferred it when you were famished and always sleeping. The climate is changing, I agree, but it’s not the first or the last time the world’s climate has changed.”

“The last time the world experienced such a dramatic climate shift, it was a gradual process, over thousands of years. This change shift has happened over a couple of hundred years.”

“You Green Covenanters just love to preach don’t you. You never get tired of seizing the moral high ground when the opportunity arises. You’re a self-deluder, wanting to live according to the rule of Nature? Well look around you - welcome to boundlessly indifferent Nature.”

“Save me the Nietzsche doctrine. I’m not being self-righteous, I leave this sanctimonious tripe to you monotheist types. I’m talking about the facts. Evidence. Nature has been contorted beyond recognition by mankind. The world is being flooded by the most powerful storm surges the planet has seen since records began, sea levels are rising and the poor, who can’t afford proper flood defences, are suffering the most. People are starving, they are dying, and they are being made homeless. I thought a Christian like you would be a bit concerned with humanity.” Bull thought of his father and the damage to the family home back in Salford. Andrew said,

“God looks after his own.” Bull shrugged his shoulders and said,

“What does your statement even mean? This is the myopic religious attitude I’m talking about – do nothing, it’s the will of God. Ultimately he will save us. You’re religion is designed to welcome death, to even look forward to it as a salvation. You care more for the afterlife than you do the actual life.”

“Perhaps when we get to shore you can find a tree and hug it.” Bull toyed with his Green Covenanter’s bracelet and with a snorted laugh said,

“Is that the best you can do Sherlock? You don’t have to be part of the GM to notice the earth’s climate has changed. All you need is a pair of eyes and a brain to process the evidence. It’s all around us. If we’re not careful our species will become extinct.”

“I suppose the dolphins will inherit the earth. The earth has flooded before my friend and mankind has survived.”

“You mean after the last ice age? Sure, mankind had to adapt. People migrated, but modern civilisation has constrained freedom of movement.”

“I’m not talking about border control. I’m talking about what happened after God sent a flood. It’s in the book of Genesis.” Bull’s head descended into his open hands. He seized his opportunity to laugh.

“Noah’s Arc?” Andrew scowled. His eyes bored into Bull head.

“I don’t see what’s so funny. God was angered by mankind’s wickedness and he sent a great deluge to teach man a lesson, but seeing Noah was righteous, he warned him and told him to save his family and all the animals. After the floods subsided, Noah was the first man to till the soil.”

“Don’t you think Noah’s Arc would have to be the size of an oil tanker to accommodate all the land bound animals of the world? Don’t you think it’s just an apocryphal tale which isn’t meant to be taken literally? Not least by educated adults? Well, there is one moral similarity with the story and modern earth, but it depends on your definition of wicked.”

“I tell you, it’s happening again, the world will end sooner than you think and there will be a judgement.”

“Oh, fuck me! You’re not a member of those whacked Lords of the New Church are you?” Bull laughed again. “And you think God will only allow people like you into his kingdom, the same ones who sat back in silence and watched passively as mankind’s greed and destructiveness brought about its own demise? You honestly think there’s a reward waiting for you? You’re the self-deluder my friend.”

“The world will end. We are tied to this outcome. It’s just a matter of when. Let’s change the subject. Tell me more about your grandmother.” Bull scratched his beard and said,

“She was a druid and practiced the old Celtic religion. She believed in nature and the spirits associated with the earth and the stars. She believed we could connect and intermingle with them. One day she got into an argument with the local priest and people in the village hounded her until she left and went to live in Scotland, at the Findhorn Foundation. It was there she met my grandfather who was over visiting from Ireland.”

Andrew stood up and looking at Bull’s licked cleaned bowl, he said,

“You’re a bit of a mongrel aren’t you?” He opened the hatch door and climbed into the quiet sanctuary of the cabin. He sat on the centre bench, rubbing the temples of his head trying to stave off an emerging migraine. A pain throbbed behind his eyes He had intended not to talk about his faith. There was a point in his life when he would quote from the Bible, feeling the passages would act like a magic spell to silence the critics, but now the words seemed hollow.

He was thankful to be alone in the dim light of the cabin. All I need is silence. Silence to think, silence to relax and silence to pray, he thought. He cast his mind back to his upbringing in the Scottish Borders. He thought of his father. He remembered an incident epitomising their relationship. Andrew’s father had secretly installed an ultra sonic youth deterrent device in his study, where he spent most of his time. When he would interrupt him, he would flick a switch from under his desk and Andrew would be subjected to an irritating high pitched noise, only detectable to animals and teenagers. As he ran into the garden he would escape the din but could detect the rare sound of his father’s laughter.

Andrew had a much stronger bond with his Grandfather. He had played a large part in his religious upbringing and when he died, he was devastated. After the funeral his ashes had been taken back to be scattered at the foot of the family oak tree which had dominated the grounds of the house for hundreds of years. The oak was part of the family emblem, the rest being some unrecognisable type of bird which Andrew’s brother, Graham said was a pigeon.

Campbell Archibald Douglas Holmes was laid to rest under the tree, believing his ashes would find their way into the roots, and by osmosis, or in some other mystical process, he would become a living part of the towering oak. He envisaged himself standing tall, overlooking the old granite house, shedding his leaves every autumn and keeping guard each night. He told Andrew he would allow the odd raven to perch on one of his branches, as long as it promised not to shit on his favourite grandson.

After the trip back from the crematoria, they all stood around the tree while the Minister delivered his eulogy. A piper played a lament and Andrew was tasked with the job of scattering the ashes. As he opened the urn, a ferocious gust of wind lifted the incinerated remains of Campbell into the air and dispersed them onto the raised vegetable bed. As Andrew ran after the plume of ash, he tripped and dropped the remaining contents to the ground. He desperately tried to scoop the ashes back into the urn, but the rain had washed them away. When he looked up he was greeted with horrified expressions from the mourners. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

For years to come Andrew was haunted by the incident. In his mind’s eye he could still see the silent contempt etched across his father’s face, and the tears of laughter rolling down the cheeks of his brother. Graham had fallen to the ground, hands clasped tightly over his mouth and gripped in a vice of silent hilarity which threatened to split his sides. Andrew’s mother looked away in disgust and consoled her mother in law, pulling the widow’s head to her breast in a vain attempt to muffle the sound of Graham’s hysterical howling, coming from behind the oak tree.

The following autumn, when the family came round to his grandmother’s for dinner, Andrew was convinced the image of his grandfather’s scowling face could be seen on a potato the gardener had dug up from the vegetable plot. Graham muttered a sentiment, offering the concept of Campbell turning out to be a “great fertilizer, if the tatties were anything to go by.”

Andrew left school to study business management at Edinburgh University and after graduating, stayed in the city to work for a finance company. Over the years he had become more reclusive and his introvert behaviour didn’t go unnoticed by his work colleagues. Joining the Territorial Army focused his mind, but being recruited as a filter by the Defence Intelligence Committee provided him with a truer purpose in life. After two years of training in Cheltenham, he was introduced to Ashley Louisa Maxwell, a daughter of a wealthy philanthropist and donator to the Green Movement. In accordance with his training, he adapted his character to suit hers, but for the first time in his life someone had brought a touch of colour to his bleak existence. Ashley wanted children and Andrew reluctantly agreed.

Andrew offered to provide business management services to the GM as a way of accessing the organisation’s financial accounts, but although achieving his clandestine objective, he was struggling to balance his work commitments with the demands of family life. Moreover, guilt was starting to tear away at his conscience. He released the pressure through excessive drinking and devising various strategies designed to drive a wedge between himself and Ashley. When the blinding headaches and blackouts started, Andrew was admitted to hospital and recalled by the MoDs. He was diagnosed with a major depressive disorder. Family life spiralled out of control. The following year, he moved out of the family home and into a flat in Edinburgh’s New Town, inventing an affair with a work colleague as an excuse to leave his wife and release Ashley from the torment of being married to a charlatan. He told his psychiatrist he believed this was the only noble act of his entire life. Later in the year, Ashley confronted Andrew at his flat after stopping off at his work colleague’s home to find out the truth about the affair. She was at her wits end.

“Why did you do this? What is going on in your mind man? Are you totally crazy? Have you considered what this is doing to the children?” Andrew had no answers. He stood on his front doorstep, looking at his slippers. He confessed to everything, including his activities as a MoDs filter to Ashley. It was the last time he saw her. During the last therapy session, his psychiatrist talked to him about his marriage and what he thought was meant by the concept of love. They discussed anti-social personality disorders and psychosis. He was prescribed pills but he didn’t mention the voices in his head. In the end, it was decided Andrew needed a change of scenery. The psychiatrist even went as far as recommending taking a cruise. Water has a calming effect on the mind, even the soul, he said. He called the theory Blue Space and drew his attention to a piece of artwork hanging upon his wall. It was called, the Painted Sea.

Andrew opened his sore eyes and peered into the half-light of the lifeboat. Ashley’s voice emerged in his mind,

“Andrew, your thoughts are random and uncontrollable. Do you wish to live your life in alienation from reality and from everyone?”

“I’m sorry, Ashley. Please don’t hold court. I was a fool. I was deceived. I deceived you and the children. I needed time, time on my own, time to think, time to come to terms with what I have done. What I have become.”

“But this is not about you having time. This isn’t even about me and the children. This is about your inability to build meaningful lasting relationships. This is about you running away from your responsibilities.”

“Forgive me. Please forgive. I still love you. Please don’t give up on me. I’ve got so much to explain to you. I see things so clearly now. I needed this time.” Ashley’s voice had vanished.

Andrew got up and clawed the tears from his face. He gazed out of the porthole and surveyed the featureless pig iron grey seascape. His prison. He went up into the viewing turret and rested his head on the pilot’s wheel. He contemplated his chances of survival and refused to resign himself to believing he was only delaying his death.

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