Up There: Voyage 5—Tír na nÓg
Previous chapters
Epigraph
‘My father and my mother are
Aengus and Edain, my own name
Niamh, and my country far
Beyond the tumbling of this tide.
…
‘I loved no man, though kings besought,
Until the Danaan poets brought
Rhyme that rhymed upon Oisin’s name,
And now I am dizzy with the thought
Of all that wisdom and the fame
Of battles broken by his hands,
Of stories builded by his words’
—“The Wanderings of Oisín,” William Butler Yeats
Voyage 5—Tír na nÓg
“Wow!” thought John. “It’s getting complicated.” Three new characters, Felipe, Linda, and Anita. With Black Jack, Angie, Seph, and Ananta, that made seven. Eight if he counted Melusine, but John wasn’t sure Melusine would rejoin the story.
John wondered if they needed a bigger boat. Could four people sail in the Sea Devil? He could have the Rodriguez family give or lend them a bigger boat. After all, Felipe’s yacht was wrecked, and the Rodriguez family are rich.
John decided to leave them in the Sea Devil. He had never said exactly how big it was—just that it was small enough for Jack to sail alone. And they had sailed from the Horn to Buenos Aires in it.
From Buenos Aires they sailed north and east.
Anita kept her promise to teach Jack Spanish. Every day Jack studied with her. For the most part these lessons were whatever schoolwork Linda and Felipe had given Anita. Most of Anita’s schoolbooks were in Spanish, and Jack needed Anita’s help with them. In this way he learned about Argentine history. They also read some stories. She was still studying English. Jack helped her with that.
One day Anita asked Jack, “Can I meet Seph and Angie?”
“You know about Seph and Angie?” Jack asked.
“Ananta told me they are your magic spirt helpers.”
“Did she also tell you she has never seen them?”
“Sí, but I don’t understand why. Are they secret?”
“No,” said Jack. “But only I can see and hear them.”
“Why didn’t you tell Mamí and Papí and me about them?”
“Anita, I guess there are some things you don’t tell your father and mother because you’re afraid they might not understand. ¿Verdad?”
Anita nodded slowly.
“Most people have little secrets like that. Well, I have a big secret like that. If I told your padres that I had secret magic spirit friends who they can’t see or hear, what would they think?”
Anita nodded again. “You think they would think you loco. But I think you are wrong, Jack. You are different. You have a friend who is a giant talking sea snake. Mamí and Papí know you are hechicero.”
Jack didn’t know that word. He had bought a Spanish-English dictionary in Buenos Aires. “Hechicero” was Spanish for witch-doctor or sorcerer.
Angie and Seph appeared on Jack’s shoulders with a popping sounds.
“You know, Jack,” said Seph, “we may be able to talk to Anita.”
“Kids are different,” explained Angie.
Angie looked straight at Anita and said, “Anita? ¿Puedes oírme?”
Anita started, then looked right at Angie. “Are they here now?” she asked Jack.
“They are sitting on my shoulders,” Jack said. “Angie here,” pointing to his right shoulder, “and Seph here,” pointing to the left one.
“Did Angie just speak to me?”
“She asked if you could hear her.”
“I kind of did, but I still can’t see them.”
“Angie, Seph, can you become visible to Anita? Whatever you just did to pop into my sight, can you sort of do that for Anita?”
Jack heard another pop from his left shoulder. Anita’s hand went to her mouth. With the other she pointed at Seph and said, “I see something there. She looks like a tiny little ghost girl with red hair. Is that what they look like?”
“That is Seph. But why do you call her a ghost girl?”
“She looks a little wavy to me, as if I was looking at her through water. And I can see through her—I can see your shoulder that she’s sitting on.”
Angie said, “Maybe we’re solid for you because we are your spirits. We’re not Anita’s, so we look ghostly to her.”
“¡Lo oí!” said Anita, excited. “And I see you now, too! You must be Angie!”
“Ananta!” shouted Anita. “Come look!”
Ananta’s head rose from the water. “What am I looking at?”
“Angie and Seph are here, and I can see them!”
“Where?” said Ananta.
“Sitting on Jack’s shoulders,” said Anita.
Ananta peered intently at Jack and his shoulders. “I see nothing.”
As they approached Ireland, Jack asked Ananta, “What place in Ireland do you want to see?”
“There are places in Ireland?” Ananta asked. “How big is it? I thought it was an Island like Henderson.”
“It is an island, but bigger than Henderson. It’s a nation of five million people.”
“Oh…” said Ananta.
“Why did you want to visit Ireland?” Anita asked her.
“Audrey came from there and she said it was a beautiful place. She always wanted to return.”
“Audrey?”
“Audrey was Jack’s mother.”
“You’re from Ireland, Jack?”
“Not me,” said Jack. “My mother and father. I’m American. I’ve never been to Ireland.”
“Do you know where in Ireland Audrey came from?”
“She and my grandfather Jonathan Murphy are from County Antrim in Northern Ireland. I think I remember them speaking of a mountain there named Tievebulliagh.”
They anchored the Devil off the town of Glenariffe. They all climbed Tievebulliagh together: Jack, Anita, Felipe, and Linda. Visible only to Jack and Anita, Angie and Seph flew along. To Jack’s surprise Ananta came along.
“Do you know,” said Jack, “they say there are no snakes in Ireland. Legend has it that St Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland.”
“Well, there is one now.”
Stretched out on land Ananta’s full, enormous length was visible. Jack thought she might be 40 feet long. Fortunately Tievebulliagh was deserted that day.
It was a stiff hike, about five miles, and the scree near the top made for difficult climbing. But the view from the top was splendid.
On the way up they noticed a sign post for Oisín’s Grave.
Felipe asked Jack, “Have you heard of this Oisín?”
“According to legend, he’s the greatest Irish poet there has ever been. He went away with a fairy queen called Niamh. He was the son of the king Finn Mac Cool,” Jack said. “Also a distant ancestor of mine, according to my mother and grandfather.”
“A king’s blood runs in your veins?” asked Felipe.
“If the legends are true, all the Irish are children of Finn Mac Cool.”
“And a poet’s blood, too? Would you like to visit his grave?”
“You know what?” said Jack. “Let’s do that.”
They climbed down the mountain side, angling northeast towards Oisín’s Grave. It was not a grave such as you would see in a graveyard, but a barrow, an ancient burial site marked by great stones.
They stood there quietly. Just as the sun touched the western horizon, Anita asked, “What is that music?” looking to the west.
“I don’t hear music,” said Jack. Felipe and Linda were equally puzzled.
“I hear it, too,” said Ananta.
“We hear it, too,” said Angie. “It’s a woman’s voice.”
Seph recited,
Turn aside your eyes and ears,
Trail away your robes of sorrow,
You shall have my further years-
You shall walk with me tomorrow.
These lines were from a poem John had read called “Rainy Night.” The poem had nothing to do with the story of Oisín and Niamh, but John thought they were words Niamh might use to call someone to her.
“Can we go there?” begged Anita.
“Where?” asked Linda.
“There, where the song comes from,” she said, pointing to the setting sun.
Ananta, Angie, and Seph wanted to chase the song, too. Jack, who owed Seph and Angie thanks for all the help they had given him, was willing. Felipe and Linda were puzzled by this desire to chase an imaginary song they could not hear. But, as Anita said, they knew that Jack was an hechicero.
Next morning they sailed north around Ireland, then due west for a day.
As the sun set, the song came again. All could hear it now. Perhaps, thought Jack, they were close to the singer.
As the sun dove into the ocean, Ananta dove below the waves.
Ten minutes later she surfaced.
“There’s a castle down there!”
Angie and Seph immediately dove in.
“Did you find the singer?” Anita asked.
“I’m not sure. There’s a young woman down there with long blond hair. Or maybe it’s a statue of a young woman. She has her mouth open, like a singer. But she is still. Her mouth doesn’t move. Yet the song seems to come from her.”
“Is she alone?”
“No, there are many more statues.”
“Could it be some sort of mechanism?” Felipe asked. “A sound system playing a recording?”
“It is not that,” said a new voice.
Jack saw Seph and Angie appear just above the waves off the bow of the Devil.
They rose slowly, and the head of a woman with golden hair rose slowly from the water until her feet stood on air just above the waves.
“We brought her,” said Seph.
She spoke again, “I am the singer.”
“I saw you!” Ananta shouted. “How did you sing without moving your lips?”
“Time runs differently in Tír na nÓg,” she answered. “A second there is two of your minutes. If you had watched me for a minute you would have seen me sing.”
“How then did we hear your song?” asked Felipe.
“You perceive me and my song through a glamour,” she answered.
“Glamour? Do you mean an illusion?” said Felipe, glowering at her.
“You can call it that, if you like,” she said. “All things in your mind are illusions of a kind. This one is no more false than this sea and wind you see and feel on your skin.”
She turned to look at Jack.
“You, sir, what is your name? Am I right that you are of the line of the poet Oisín?”
“My mother told me so. I am Jack.”
“Oisín was my husband. He lived with me here in Tír na nÓg for 300 years.”
“Three hundred!” exclaimed Felipe. “How could that be?”
“I have already told you that time runs differently in Tír na nÓg. Tír na nÓg is the Land of Youth.”
She turned to Jack, “Will you come with me to Tír na nÓg?”
“Please forgive me, lady. There are many things I still want to do above the waves.”
She fixed her ocean-gray eyes on his. “Someday you may wish for Tír na nÓg. On that day, come and call my name, Niamh. I will hear.”
She dove beneath the waves.
“Well, they made it to Ireland,” John told Stephanie and Alice, meeting them at the end of August.
“Are they still there?” asked Alice.
“No, they have left,” John answered. “They sailed to Tír na nÓg.”
“Oh! I think I’ve heard of that!”
“My grandparents came here from Ireland. My parents told me the old Irish stories.”
“Where will Jack and Angie and Seph go next?” Stephanie asked.
“Up to you,” John answered.
“Oh, Jack! Travels with you are never dull!” laughed Linda.
Felipe looked unhappy. “There must be an explanation for all this.”
Jack answered, “I can’t explain what just happened.”
“It is sad,” agreed Felipe. “We struggle through the world without understanding. There ought to be an instruction manual!”
“Where will we go now, Jack?” Anita asked.
“I suppose you and your family will want to go home to Buenos Aires,” said Jack.
“There is no hurry!” answered Felipe. “As Linda said, traveling with you is never dull.”
“Perhaps then,” said Jack, “I can invite you to visit my home. It is not far from here.”
“We would like that!” said Linda.
“But I warn you. I am not wealthy. Almost everything I own is right here, on the Devil.”
Afterword
The cover image is a phase portrait of :
A phase portrait is a visualization of a complex function introduced by Elias Wegert in Visual Complex Functions: An Introduction with Phase Portraits.
The Niamh reveal at the end got me, especially tying it back to the Yeats epigraph. That's such a nice payoff. And I love that you let Felipe stay confused and a little annoyed instead of wrapping it all up neatly, that felt real, like actual magic should leave people a little unsettled.
Also just have to say, Anita realizing she can hear Angie because "kids are different" is such a sweet, quiet detail. This whole voyage had a good balance of playful and eerie. Can't wait to see where Jack goes next!
Love this!
The part where Anita became able to hear and speak with Angie and Seph was lots of fun, and then Ananta still not being able to see and hear them was a fun way for that scene to continue; and it was also fun to know John’s thought process for whether they needed a bigger boat and how he decided that it wasn’t necessary because he hadn’t ever specified exactly how big the boat was. 💯
Thank you for sharing this excellent chapter with us readers! 🙏