The prince whispered a charm into the elephant’s ear; the elephant knelt down. Both of them hastily dismounted from its back. They went to examine the wooden ship that lay half-buried in the sand near the shore. The fate of that vessel was pitiable to behold. The planks were shattered and strewn about in utter disarray. They wondered if perhaps someone might be inside the wrecked ship or nearby. The prince clapped his hands to make a sound. Poonkuzhali cupped her hands to her mouth and called out. There was no response.

Both of them waded into the water, grasped the edge of the ship, and climbed aboard. The bottom planks had split open, and water and sand had poured in abundantly. Any hope that they might push it into the water and set sail was dashed. It was impossible to move that ship from there. Even to drag it ashore, a single elephant would not suffice; it would require many elephants and many men. To repair it, shipwrights would have to labor for months.

Amidst the broken planks, the prince found the tiger flag ensnared. It was clear that this sight caused him deep anguish.

“Poonkuzhali! Is this one of the ships you saw?” he asked.

“It seems so. The other ship appears to have sunk completely and disappeared!” replied Poonkuzhali, a note of excitement in her voice.

“Why are you so elated?” the prince asked.

“Should I not be glad if the ships that came to capture you have sunk and vanished?” said Poonkuzhali.

“It is wrong for you to rejoice, O Princess of the Sea! Something calamitous has occurred here. It pains me to see the ship bearing the tiger flag in such a state. I do not even know how this happened. What became of the warriors and sailors aboard? The thought troubles my heart even more. Are you saying the other ship must have sunk?”

“I only say it might have sunk. If it has, that would be for the best.” “There is nothing good about this, not at all. Such a day should never have dawned. After seeing the fate of this ship, perhaps another vessel has sailed away to where the waters are deeper. I do not understand why this ship had to come so close to the shore. The sailors of Chola Nadu come from a lineage that has been accustomed to the sea for thousands of years. Why would they make such a mistake? Surely, those who were on board must have escaped. Perhaps they boarded the other ship and left! Come! Let us go and see!”

“Where shall we look, Prince? The sun has set and darkness is gathering on all sides!” said Poonguzhali.

“Daughter of the Ocean! Where did you leave your boat?”

“My boat is almost in the middle of this river, is it not? Since we came on the elephant—and you were the one guiding it—we have arrived so quickly. Had we come by boat, we would have reached here only at midnight.”

“Very well! Before it gets completely dark, let us walk along the riverbank and see. The trees here block the view of the sea. Perhaps they have anchored another ship a little farther out in the sea, haven’t they?”

Leaving the elephant where it was, the two of them walked along the riverbank towards the sea. Very soon, they reached the seashore. The sea lay in perfect tranquility. There was not the slightest sign of a wave. As far as the eye could see, it appeared as a vast sheet of green. The green of the sea and the pale blue of the sky mingled together far off in the distance.

There was no sign of a ship or a boat. A couple of birds flew from the sea towards the shore. That was all! After standing there for a while, looking around in all directions, the Prince said, “Very well! Let us go to the sunken ship!”

They turned and began to walk back the way they had come.

“Poonguzhali! I will never forget the help you have given me. But here, we must part ways,” said the Prince.

Poonguzhali remained silent. “Did you hear what I said? I have decided to wait at the sunken ship itself. Commander-in-Chief and the others will surely come searching for this place. I will consult with them and decide what to do next. But you have no more work here. Find your boat and leave. Remember what I told you about my father…”

Poonkuzhali hesitated and stood still, leaning against a tree nearby. She grasped one of its low-hanging branches.

“What is it, Samudrakumari? What troubles you?”

“Nothing, Prince! I am taking my leave of you here. Please, go on your way!”

“Are you angry, Poonkuzhali?”

“Angry? What right does this fool have to be angry with you? I have not grown so proud as that.”

“Then why have you suddenly stopped here?”

“It is not anger, sir! Only weariness! It has been two days since I last slept. Let me lie down here for a while, and then I will search for my boat and be on my way.”

It was the day after the full moon. At that hour, the moon was rising over the eastern sea. A few pale rays fell upon Poonkuzhali’s face. The prince looked at her face. He saw the exhaustion and fatigue that had settled there. He saw her eyes, heavy with sleep, her lids closing of their own accord. It is natural for the red lotus to close when the moon rises. But one could not say that Poonkuzhali’s lotus-like face merely closed; it had withered and drooped in utter weariness.

“Girl! You say it has been two days since you slept? How many days since you last ate?” he asked.

“It has been more than two days since I ate. While I was with you, I did not even feel hunger.”

“How can I describe my foolishness?