The ship, engulfed in darkness, cut through the waters, impatiently seeking its port.
It had no other lights except for the two colored lanterns on the bridge, one port and one starboard;
a third one, white and radiant, stood high on the foremast, and a small one at the stern.
Nothing else.
The passengers lay in their bunks—some surrendered to sleep, others to their thoughts.
The sailors and stokers, off duty, snored softly in their berths.
The captain and the helmsman stood upright on the bridge, black silhouettes, almost airborne.
They seemed like kind spirits, silently steering through the void, guiding the fate of the blind vessel and its sleeping souls.
Suddenly, the ship’s bell struck midnight.
The bow bell echoed it.
The chime—quick, joyful—poured its metallic tones all around: down into the dark sea, up into the starlit sky, calling everyone to the deck.
And at once, the dark ship filled with light, with noise, with life.
The crew left their berths, the passengers their bunks.
At the bow and stern, impatient flares shot from the boatswain’s hands,
rising as if to reach the stars before vanishing into the abyss—green and red shooting stars.
The rigging, the ropes, the rails glowed like a bier lit with candles.
In that moment, the ship was nothing but a great chandelier gliding over the waters like a firework.
The bridge, draped in a large flag, resembled an altar.
A basket of red eggs and another of sweet Easter bread stood upon it.
The captain, solemn, holding a lit candle in his hand, began to chant “Christ is Risen.”
The crew and passengers surrounded him—bareheaded, candles in hand—chanting the hymn rhythmically, reverently.
“Christ is Risen! Happy Easter, gentlemen! Happy Easter, my lads!” he greeted them, first turning to the passengers, then to the crew.
“Happy Easter, Captain!” they answered in unison.
“And next year—may we be home, gentlemen! May we be home next year, my lads!” he added, as a single teardrop shimmered at the corner of his eye.
“Next year at home, Captain!”
Then, one by one—first the passengers, then the crew—received from his hand a red egg and a sweet bread.
Once more, greetings and kisses filled the air:
“Christ is Risen!”
“Truly He is Risen!”
“Next year at home…”
The passengers returned to their seats to eat the traditional Easter soup.
The sailors, in pairs along the corridors, clinked their eggs, laughed, jostled one another, ate heartily, exchanging greetings both earnestly and playfully.
The bells fell silent. One by one, the candles were extinguished. The ship sank once more into its quiet.
The captain and the helmsman, alone again on the bridge—spirits, it seemed, suspended in the night—resumed their work, silent and vigilant:
“Quarter wind to the northwest!”
“Northwest it is!”
“Steady!”
“Steady it is!”
And the ship, once more cloaked in darkness, continued cutting through the waters,
still seeking its port with longing.