Chapter 1. Swelling Wood
Knocked overboard like a flimsy doll, this wayfaring traveler fell victim to the beast. Armed, but never dangerous, with gun barrels smoldering as they climbed over the bulkhead. As the great beast's hind foot found my face, it was like a dream altogether realized. I was flying overboard turntables over the hoard, tumbling head over heals to the ocean. Not for my own reckoning could I recall what brought me to this. Not for my own life could I recount what step was amiss.
A crazed captain like a headless horseman bound to fall off of his steed raised up his sword against the shivering sea. Tied to the shore, men go loony aboard but all of their trust's in the gold. All those aboard won't get the pleasure of growing old. Never a time like the present to dastardly trap for a living. Ever there was a lot for a peasant to grow up some sea legs for a shilling. "Oh, there're risks," he said, "But brother, you mustn't fret! The winds and the currents can settle your debts!"
And I believed him. The fool in the air like a trapeze stunt gone horribly awry. My back to the surface ignoring my claws for the sky. Then I saw it out the corner of my eye. The clock stood still for a time, I fathom, and the sun settled deep within the clouds for only a moment. Locked and loaded there stood the captain, aiming a harpoon for her belly. The rope caught the wind for a moment, looped out the stern and grazed me in the chin. A truly mighty throw through the world of slow motion, water splashing the sharpened rod as she soared through the void. Nothing can stop her, nothing can stop her. Nothing but the belly of that gargantuan...thing. As her middle engulfed metal, her weight engulfed the captain, and both were dragged into the sea. Time let loose it's sympathy.
I found the depth appealing, up to the point when the ghosts started reeling. I heard the cries from the darkness below, lifting heads and beginning to surface. Begrudgingly, I too turned for the surface. While death would be sweet, the soul's of dead sailors await my defeat. Maybe greeted by Ahab and kind, maybe Mephistopheles would turn out to be a nice guy. I'd glide on his wings while he ravaged the weak, too timid and lost to leave the surface and swim with the fishes. Here he comes now.
A board on the wake, a current to follow. These were the things that I needed to borrow. For a time, yes, perhaps I would live. But salting my life line is cruelty's gift. Truly bitter irony. Water in my hair, sting in my eyes, filthiness in my mouth. All the crud left over from a long night in ecstasy littered my lungs and tattered my blood. Every breath was a pound in the wrong direction, every heartbeat a drum to the deep. The rope had cut my chin.
Alleviating my pain and replacing it with fear I remembered the facts my ocean schooling taught me this year. Sharks can smell blood from miles away. Years ago I didn't know that sharks could even have nostrils. A decade ago I would've asked you, "Please mum, what be a nostril?" This is no time for nostalgia. Quickly I must seal this wound. I grabbed a piece of swelling wood from the stray rafter, pressed its splintering bark into my chin. The salt brought tears welling, blood flowed for seconds after, sealed at last the wound on my chin. Ripped a strand of moist yarn from the shoulder of my shirt. "There, that ought to do it."
Chapter 2. The Arm of the Ocean
A sea tattered hood on a sea fearing captain, one who has found the Arm of the Ocean. Not a vague idea, or imagery of the sort, but a place to feed and humble beings gathered on the wharf. A lackluster pub, coastal center to cool the tongues of those weary of the wobbling waters. The Arm draws in most everyone at port, at least the poor saps the waves and fate can contort. To both wretched and commoner, scum and pristine, vile and astute, "Come crush a cup of rum, me hearties! Come! We've spirits, pales, ginger ales, and liquored birds to boot!"
Red the sign outside the stall where vermin go to who knows what. What filth and garbage can find their homage 'neath the roofings of this hut. Yet here he sits, in quiet abandon, lost in all his thoughts. He barely even lifts his lips to blow a smoky, aimless kiss that disappears into the crowd lost probably on someone's shoulder, or under their sweaty armpit. Fitting place for filth to land. Yes that's right, the Arm of the Ocean.
As luck would have it, a lass in drab walked right by the dinner slab roasting in the pit. She knows his name, she knows his schemes, but has not much to do with it. A gun in her satchel, a sword on her flank, and cunning enough with a well hidden shank, she walked to the table. Well, moseyed is more like. She sat down at once and pointed her pike. The muzzle and barrel shivered and rose to nuzzle right up to his shade covered nose.
"What brings you here, oh lonely traveler? Women, booze, or both at once? My name's Percy, I've seen your picture, posted 'round all'a the downtown blocks. I've heard your tales 'fore falling to bed, no come with me love. Come along on now. They've got a nice bounty on your head."
As he leaned in close and pulled the gun hand aside, his lips crossed the plain of darkness inside that ill covering hood, that raggedy drag. He hissed out a quip that might settle the score, "There's a big, ugly ego trapped inside yours."
She panicked. "Another move and you'll find your heart has exploded."
He didn't. "Doubt that ma'am, you're gun isn't loaded."
Shaky, finger-crossed, knee buckling terror lead the small gun to its leather-bound holster. He stood and threw coins to the table, paid for the drinks lest this dame wasn't able. The bounty on him was private sector business, and the hire is only particularly desperate. With that he departed, or so he had hoped. Percy had other plans clutched in her hand. She threw the pieces cross the room unleashing drunkards like pirates dashing for doubloons.
Unsheathing her terror to the people's dismay, and shooed all those begging for her to belay. With that he too unleashed his ferocity, demanding her sword be pushed aside. A few mighty strokes and she knew she was beaten, so she took on a new kind of defensive reason.
"Someone help! This man is attacking me! You wouldn't hurt such a delicate woman, would you?" she swooned and frightened the look on her face.
He paused, but quickly regained his composure. "No!" he said frankly, and made for the doorway.
Percy pursued her outsmarting bounty. "Have you know I could've easily killed you!"
"Please my dear, Percy. They've only use for me alive. Since you can't kill me, and you can't beat me, and you can't steal me, then what's there left for you to do?"
Percy pressed him back against the door frame and brought her face up to his face. Saying, "I can't kill, you..or any other man. I can't beat, you...or any other man. I can't steal, you...or any other man." She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand, "Heaven forgive me, I can't even steal your heart."
"There's nothing good for you to steal," he said, "This heart grew cold many years ago, my dear. Dark and dead as the ocean, I fear. Not even a beauty warm as yours could bring fires of life to a place such as this. A place like my dimly lit heart." He parted Percy's hair and gazed in her eyes, and with that he departed the Arm of the Ocean.
Chapter 3. If Men Were Ships
He then began to muse to himself, "I'm a simpleton, but the Author of this world has called me to be captain. He asked me to be the leader of a lonely vessel called the Great Blue Heron. Shipping shipments and shipmates, codgers with canes leading protagonists in vain, off to rescue an unknowing princess. Lawyers and lawmen, judges and juries, even the ropes they tie to depart the lawbreakers with a lever-pulled 'Good-bye'. I've wandered every ocean, endured tempests Zeus himself could not have imagined, but love escapes my feral grasp.
"If this Author willed, all it would take is a swoosh of his pen. Even the costs of my living are void in his world. Lest for him the cost of ink, but even a good friend could loan him a bottle and bread to sustain. According to His law He could invent the laws with the ink He conjured from His fingertips, in fact He could write my life in His own blood. All I know is that my story must go on, just as the currents must always run their course. All must fulfill their purpose. My heart has longed for that wayfaring protagonist nobly rescuing that unknowing princess. To be the man that allows the story to continue, to unravel the plot lines as I lift the mainsails. To haphazardly fall headlong through my moral instability and be the one who destroys the enemy. I have grown lonely these days.
"I've never had another hand to hold but compass and bearing, no other eye to gaze upon but the stars in the sky. Only my own palm can be pressed by my fingertips. My quarters are empty and old, and my breath is the only one I can see glisten in the moonlight cold. Men are hardly fitting company when your business is loneliness. The blue seems eternal as it stretches over the horizon like a blanket.
"If men were ships, then our brains would be the captain. Then our subtleties would be the eccentric first mate; hatching daily his mutinous plot. He'd maroon our reason in a far away land. 'Course all his greedy longings would soon be forgot, like the last tide traveling out as fast as it came in.
"Sometimes I tread low; as if I were deep beneath the pressures of the sea. Walking with my hands hanging low like a primate island, where everyone refuses to evolve and start swaying their arms. I drag myself across the deck, every inch of me aches with an invisible longing; a longing to fulfill that ever-present need to be a part of this story. Perhaps even the days I'm an ape can be used to portray these character traits. Maybe in suffering I too can find solace; maybe the strength that I lack can be gleaned from the port to my back, the spray in my face, and the wind in my sails. Sometimes that's all that I have."
Chapter 4. Whispers in the Clouds
"Sweetheart, wishes cannot even begin to ask, must this time of ours depart?" whispered Jacob into Juno's ear.
"Why yes dear, nothing is built to last, at least not forever. Years, maybe, but not forever." replied Juno softly just above the soothing sound of waves intruding the beach outside their home. "The clouds are beautiful tonight," she continued, "But not even the clouds will be the same tomorrow. The tide won't come up to exactly this part of my thigh in three nights. Who's to say I'll even be out here? Who's to say either of us will not have already left this world?"
"Don't speak of such things, Juno. You and I are here, this is all happening now, and nothing - not even the difference of clouds in the sky, can change that here...and now," said Jacob.
The two embraced and kissed embodied by the rays of the sunset. It formed like a ring around both of their faces, an establishment of love with heavenly traces. As Juno lifted her eyelids a shine rose from the ground to her eye. Such a shiny pearl buried deep within the sand, or at least that's what it seemed at first glance. Kneeling down and pawing at the earth only momentarily, she excavated this glass bottle, a modern day fossil, and inside parchment no older than both of them.
"Look Jacob, a message in a bottle. Like tales of old, and tales I'm sure to be told, let's find what message there is inside to behold." exclaimed Juno, holding high her archaic prize. She reached up to break it open on a rock beside the fencepost, but Jacob stayed her hand.
"Just open the thing, we may need the bottle later," he said. After she pulled the note out of the bottle, she leaned up against the fence and began to read.
March 4th, near Echo Island,
The waters are calm and lonely today. Not a whale in sight. I hope she surfaces soon, I dare not draw much closer to this cursed island. This constant motion is driving me insane. Cabin fever waxes and wanes all throughout every single night. I'm sleep deprived, malnourished, and this vessel has certainly seen better days. Perhaps this catch will prove worthwhile. The men saw its size. They squabble daily on the girth of its gargantuan tail. "Thirty harpoons," they say, "And eleventy bullets."
The task at hand is suicidal, but I care not. This beard has grown to its extent, and my bones have aged to the point of decomposition. If my spirit could break free, it would have floated high above the waters and strangled the beast with ferocious magic this world has never known. Perhaps in my death I will by chance slay this monster. If for nothing else to be able to slay it again in eterni-
The letter suddenly trailed off into illegibility and then abruptly stopped. Strange as it was, Juno flipped the letter over.
To the finder of this bottle,
My name is Orion, son of Olaf Belton. I am the captain's aide on the whaling vessel Jupiter Moon. We were on our way to port when we ran across one of the largest whales the captain had ever seen. Short supplied and fatigued as we were, the captain insisted that we pursue. As we began to close on our prey, she turned for the ship and began to rip us apart. Large as she was, her agile frame eluded our barrage of gun fire and harpooning. At last the captain slay the beast, but not before its body cut our ship in two. I was able to float to a remote island on the captain's roll-top desk. Inside I found this parchment that he journaled on frequently. This island is inhabited by a strange tribe. Send help immediately. We were miles off course, but heading west and closing on this mysterious island. That is all I know for now. Hurry.
As the two finished reading the letter, they nodded with one another and headed into town.
Chapter 5. Fish Tower
The librarian led Jacob and Juno down into the library stacks for a look at the records. The chances of finding the Belton family name was about 5 to 1 against. No matter. The boy Orion was in need of help immediately. Librarian Melton was known for his great knowledge of the records, but he was also known for his haughty tongue and belittling attitude. He also knew much of the museum, archeology and geography. Whether he was the wisest man in all the land was debatable at best, for if there's anything common amongst the wise is that they must convince both themselves and others that they are the wisest.
"Here it is, the Book of B's," said Melton as he thumbed through the pages. "Says here that your Belton fellow is from around here. It's probable that this is their port city as well, and that the vessel wasn't terribly far from the mainland before she turned to chase the whale. If it were, in fact, nearing Echo Island then that must be where the boy and his roll-top desk ran aground."
"Do you know why the captain was afraid to go near that island?" asked Jacob.
"For that, we must go the museum." replied Melton.
In the next hallway, Jacob and Juno found themselves surrounded by artifacts. In the center of the room stood a plaque with a medallion displayed in front of it. Melton led them to the plaque and put his elbow up on the pillar. The medallion glistened in the light beaming in from the open ceiling. On the medallion was carved the image of a fish with a tower growing from its back. The image puzzled both as the looked on.
"You see," said Melton, "The isle in question isn't one of much dignity. For years we here have sent forth to the tribes dwelling there missionaries. Out of the sent fourteen, only one returned. The prize he held and said he nearly died to acquire stands here today, the last remaining memory of a doomed people. It goes without saying that these people were hostile towards visitors - ahem, intruders to their island."
"Who is the survivor?" asked Juno.
"The survivor," continued Melton, "Died years ago of natural causes. He left behind a daughter and three sons. All have left this area save one, Stanley, who resides here in town working for a commercial shipping company called Wings of the Ocean. He used to captain a vessel himself, a vessel called the Great Blue Heron. He now owns the better half of the company, and his son pilots the ship. I know him personally, he's a very dear friend of mine. The Great Blue Heron has shipped in our supplies a number of times, and the son - can't remember his name - well anyways he's a swell young chap. Very knowledgeable of cartography and creativity."
"Do you think he would be interested in aiding us in a journey to this island?" whispered Juno to her Jacob, "I'm sure that with the father of the Belton boy, the grandson of this missionary, and this medallion in hand, we might be able to free Orion from this hostile tribe!" She then turned back to Melton and asked, "May we please take this medallion? Perhaps it can help us to communicate with the tribe."
Melton smirked. "Actually, the only person left on earth who can speak to the tribe is me. The missionary left behind a book of translation. I buried it deep within the stacks, but often times it tickled my interest and I red of it. Though I'm not as well versed as he, if I took the book along, I could be of some use on this voyage also," he said.
"Also," he continued, "About this medallion. You'll have to ask Stanley if it can be yours to borrow. He is truthfully the rightful owner."
Chapter 6. Brothership
They called me in the evening on the fifth. They said to me, "Olaf, your son is dead." I would not believe, not for the life of me. Now from the sea arrives a glimmer of hope, a shining bottle in the reef with a note. Picked up and brought to me by three, who after scrounging up a forth, walked to meet me by the wharf.
Gathered at the sunset, I found the four of them on the dock head. One was Juno, the beautiful maiden of the north. Another her dearest, the one they call Jacob, who was found fond in his mother's eyes. Then the librarian, who knew nothing of doing, but much of saying and teaching. Then there was Stanley. If ever there were a happier man, even in these trying times, I would not know of any. His smile basked in the evening dusk, and his whiskers glistened with last hour's dinner remains. Even with a son so far gone, I could not help but smile at his unseen fortune.
My bag thrown over my shoulder, dragging along my satchel and such, I crossed the deck to meet with the folk. I was greeted with nods, simple hand shakes and solemn faces. All except Stanley, who smiled at me as his eyes opened their window frames and let the cool night breeze in. From deep within him hummed a boisterous housekeeper, and in his chest he clapped and danced in place. As we climbed aboard the vessel and he disappeared into the captain's quarters, it was as if two suns were setting. Stanley knew better than anyone on board that we would find my son, and find him well.
I found Juno and sat next to her by the steps. Within the shadow of the deck she was windowed in darkness. Her smile seemed to speak beyond words. She looked up at nothing, yet found so much joy in the nothing as to perplex even her. She didn't even know why she was smiling, and shrugged it off as if to say to herself, "I know! Crazy, huh?" Though her words were always few I found almost infinite comfort in her patience. She wasn't even pressing the deck hands to speed along the process. It was as if her walk in life had slowed into a stroll and she was loving every minute of it. Jacob came down to sit next to her, so I skated over the wet deck to where Melton was kneeling down.
He seemed intent on understanding this tribe's language. The boat to Echo Island would take at least a week, or so the captain said. This gave Melton ample time to study and at least grasp the basics of communication. It was imperative, he said, to discover the meaning of the medallion with the tower coming out of a fish. That must be why he keeps repeating the word for "medallion" in that tribal tongue. "I feel that this will be a most incredible adventure," he said to me after he noticed me standing above him.
The captain, however, seems less than optimistic. While he wishes us well in all that we embark upon this voyage, there's a subtle but unmistakable doubt in his words. Tremors in the waves of his voice, like drums in the depths of a cavern. Perhaps his fears are hidden because he hasn't found a way to express the things that he fears. He sleeps now on deck with his first mate at the wheel. I gather that these two have known each other for quite some time, and have bonded as only lifelong companions can.
They have traversed the same countless leagues and felt the same crisp sea breeze. They must have swallowed the same surf when the gulf proved far too difficult. They both would have died for the other, held tight within the other's arms. The living swaying back and forth leans in to softly whisper sweetly, "You know I'd switch places with you in a heartbeat." Proven and tried through lashing of tongues, it's obvious even to me, a stranger, this friendship - brothership - could not be undone.
"Take us out, Benjamin," the captain said, and we were on our way.
Chapter 7. Stowaway
From bellow the deck flew out a young woman who none of us had ever seen. She stumbled forward tied at the wrists and dripping with sweat. Her clothes were ripped to shreds and the bruises on her face looked like they were delivered fast. She fell forward and barely caught herself on the mast. She coughed as all of the air rushed out of her, then she fell to the floor. All the other shipmates backed up to the railings as the captain stepped up onto the deck after her.
He stood in front of her, just looking. He lifted his arms with a loss for words. He turned to face the horrified crowd, then back to her. After a few times with this dance of confusion, he finally stopped and knelt down to look her in the eye. He sighed, cupped her chin with his free hand and said to her softly, "What on Earth are you doing here, Percy?"
"To be honest, I don't know," she said, "Thought for sure you were traveling. Then I saw the others come on board, these one's I'd never seen before. Thought since they weren't business folks that some thievery was at hand. Didn't know much, to be sure, of this cursed island."
"I never spoke of an island," said the captain, "So you must be reading my journal there, friend."
"You know this woman?" chimed in a curious Benjamin, "I've seen her face before, always mulling around the dock. I took her for a beggar with that scurvy looking get up. She looks like about the poorest thing I ever saw."
"She's here to collect my bounty, Benjamin. Or at least, that was what she was here for originally," said the captain, "But forgive me madam, if you'll excuse me."
The captain pulled Benjamin aside near where I was standing. He gave me an glance to tell me to back away. The fury in them told me to make it hasty. I took Juno's hand and marched her over by the other crewmen. She looked at me, but I had no answers for her, even in the looks of my own. Looks, looks, everywhere there were looks. Eyes darting from Percy back to others, others back to Percy. With such a bouncing confusion, a ruckus was bound to begin. Pretty soon our tongues wouldn't stand for such nonverbal communication.
I couldn't hear what the captain was saying, but his gestures were intensifying by the second. I gather that he and Benjamin were discussing what was to be done, after all a stowaway is not something to be taken lightly, even one that looked so very innocent. After much deliberation, the captain moved his hands through his hair and breathed in deep. He was about to say something.
Lifting his right hand, the captain decreed, "The stowaway Percy will stay in my quarters. No one is to enter my bedroom but her, not even me. I will sleep with the crewmen until we return to port. If so much as a finger is laid on this woman, we will return it with lashings. No one may talk to her, and even glances are discouraged. We will all act as if I had not discovered her. That is all, men. Back to your chores."
Chapter 8. Sirens in the Night
In the night air they whispered sneakily. I doubt if they even knew I was listening. I heard their words, but never saw their faces. I couldn't look back 'cause they thought I was sleeping. "Do you think the captain trusts this woman to stay in bed this evening?" One asked.
"I doubt the captain trusts her at all. We must hold our tongues in front of him though, we know not his intentions," the other replied.
"Do you think he knows of ours? I'm surprised the captain didn't just turn the ship around. We'd best discover where this girl is from before we run aground. I wouldn't trust her for anything. She may compromise everything."
"Let's retire, down below. We will discover the origins of this girl soon enough. For now, keep quiet and keep your head down and leave everything up to me. I will keep the captain's mind at ease."
With that, the two sets of footsteps left the deck and went down to the crewman's quarters. I got up after they were out of sight and pondered how I would tell the captain what I heard. These men were obviously up to something, and something certainly no good. He lay fast asleep by the other crewman navigating through the night. I went to wake him but stopped dead when I saw the one they call Juno exiting the captain's sleeping quarters.
"Easy, sailor," she said, "The captain said I should talk with the stranger. I tried to calm her down and cool ourselves down. She is but a helpless girl, marooned by her parents before she was seven. She is sleeping soundly now, it's okay." Juno paused, "Forgive me sailor, but what is your name?"
"My name is Isaiah, after the fellow in the Bible who saw God," I said.
"Seen Him around lately, have you?" Juno asked, jokingly.
"I believe I see Him every evening in the stars," I said, "I believe I hear him groaning in the air when the sun goes to sleep. He whispers in my ear as He cools my brow with the breeze. When the whales sing as sirens in the night, I know they sing so that He might pass by. Hear them? Some nights I swear I could almost sing along. It won't take me a face-to-face to know that bowing before His throne is my only option."
We walked slowly over to the railing of the ship. I felt my way to a nook in the wood that I knew by memory. I circled the inside with my finger, too bashful to continue talking. She leaned forward over the board and looked out to the calm waters. Something about the moment cooled me to the core.
"You're a wise young lad," said Juno, "And your words are beautiful. You obviously know much of things unseen. I look forward to sharing happy things with you again in the Kingdom of Heaven. For now though, what has you in such a fuss this evening that you cannot go to bed?"
"It's funny you should ask, because I think God woke me up. He woke me to hear two men talking in a guilty sort of fashion. Secretly they whispered to one another of some kind of plans. What or where they will execute their evil is unknown, and I couldn't even see their faces. I must tell the captain before I lay down for the night," I explained.
"Let's go wake him then," said Juno.
Chapter 9. A Promise is a Promise
I woke hastily from my dream, a dream I dreamt so often I can recite it for memory. I stretched out over the enormity of the bed. The bed was so large, and the sheets were so soft. I could never find comfort like this in my loft. I rubbed my chest into the linen and moaned; felt for the pillow and cuddled with it.
In this place of complete comfort, the boat rocking and lulling me with creaking lullabies. I felt my bruises and groaned, let out my breath with a descending hum. Just as I began to drift back to sleep, the captain barged in with Juno and a strange young boy. He shut the door behind him and looked back at me.
"Forgive us, Percy. We need this room for an emergency meeting," said the captain.
I nodded and yawned. I was too tired to listen. I didn't care of what I was missing. As I fell back asleep I heard much of our safety. I heard so much of keeping "hush hush" that I forgot really why I was listening. It was imperative to keep quiet, apparently. I thought to myself as I turned back to slumber. I thought things like, Is talking about being quiet anything like quietly talking? If I talk quietly to Jesus, do you think that sounds like yelling to Satan? Jesus, if I make crapes for breakfast, will You eat some with me? Waffles or crapes, Jesus, go! Oh, oh, quiet...the dream is starting now. Oh I love this part, watch this! This is me dancing! Oh and there's my mother. She's so proud of me. She promised that she would always watch me dancing, and that she would never-ever let her eyes wander. "Never-ever-ever?" I asked.
"Never-ever-ever," she said.
Chapter 10. Warning Signs
Just as the sun broke over the horizon on the eighth day, there came about a mighty wind. We felt the chill and captain yelled, "Storm comin'!" and went about his work. I walked over to talk with him, but he didn't respond to any of my questions. He muttered to himself as he tied down some loose ends. "If it hits us before nightfall, we'll be fine. 'Less she's a squall of unusual size, then of course we're undone for sure," he said, "Damned if I'll die to some two-bit tempest come round our sails." He lifted his voice, "Full speed ahead!"
"Sir, it's too dangerous!" I insisted, "If we take the boat full speed into the heart of the storm, we'll capsize!"
"No!" He protested, "No, we're already at least a day ahead of schedule. If the storm doesn't hit us until nightfall, we'll be close enough to the island to weigh anchor and ride her out."
"I agree with the captain," said the first mate Benjamin, "We'll be close enough to shore, and this boat will not capsize. If we turn around now, the storm will catch up with us and we'll be hit by it anyways. If we're lucky she'll dissipate o'er the summits of the island and not rain so hard on us. 'Course that'd take a great deal of luck."
"Luck is something I've got plenty to afford," said the captain, "'sides I've been saving luck from the last ten voyages of mine. All ten went sour, and all the cargo was dumped, lost, or confiscated. That includes passengers, mind you. Of course it's always dangerous business ferrying known felons."
"You've ferried felons!" I stammered, "Just what kind of boat ferries felons?"
"Just calm down Melton, there's nothing to be worried 'bout," said the captain, "Ferry felons, carry melons, what's the difference, am I right? Besides, I didn't really know they were felons to begin with. It just sort of came up in passing, ya' know like one of those conversations like, 'So, what kind of business do you fellas have going for you in Cuba?', and of course when they said, 'Mercenaries hired primarily for guerrilla warfare,' I had no choice but to take 'em where they were going!"
"What the captain is trying to say," said Benjamin, "is that we've had our fair share of bad luck these days. So some good luck is bound to come our way. Right, Melton?"
"Right," I said.
Chapter 11. Voice of the Tempest
Through the torrential downpour I heard a voice on the air. I had heard this voice before, but only in my nightmares. She screamed as she ripped at the hull, howling and wailing like a banshee. I grabbed my ears and hurled myself against the railing. I saw the boat lift from the water and braced myself on the wood. The screaming became so intense that it pinpointed atop my ear drums and formed into a needle. It was so sharp and so elongated. Her inhale drew the needle back, and then...silence.
I staggered across the deck through the flailing deck hands and crewmen. Perhaps this too was a nightmare. An awful dream and I was sleeping with the crew. They must be standing over me making storm noises and screaming awfully loud. Perhaps I imagined all the signs of the storm. I looked into the sky as it opened before my very eyes. Only one other person saw it. It was that scrawny little mate called Isaiah. A flash of light filled the sky followed by a huge explosion that knocked everyone on deck to the floor.
Walls of water surrounded the ship on all sides. Like a puppeteer the Lord raised the waters up and down like arms and spindly legs. Suddenly the hands of the ocean lifted the boat in its palms and offered us to the hole in the sky. For fear that the Lord Himself may step down and touch our ship with ferocious lightning, I stayed on the deck with my knees planted so deep in the wood I dare not pull them up lest they be laden with splinters.
This, after all, was the worst storm I had ever encountered. In all my years at sea, every storm seemed trivial to me. They were difficult, sure, but never much challenge. This one, however, was truly remarkable.
A quiet calm found its way over the ship. We were lowered down with the waves momentarily, and slowly whispers filled the air. I ran about trying to grab a phrase coming from the wind. They say that if you listen carefully, you can hear all the voices of those who had just passed through the calm of the storm. You can even leave some of your own for the next group of people. I leaned in close to whisper, "Child's play."
After hearing several "Oh my God"s and "Wow"s I heard one in particular that caught my attention. It was the voice of a young woman saying, "Captain, turn around." I looked up to see that it was Percy, and she was standing right next to me. I turned.
A dragon cleave of water soared towards the ship. At once all on board fell to the ground as the wave engulfed the ship entirely. Suddenly below us the depths quaked and shoved her leagues upward and outward. Then everything went black, and I felt myself floating through the air.
Chapter 12. The Lord Created Nothing
Nothingness. Altogether nothingness. Not black or white, not a thing but nothing. There wasn't anything in the nothingness. It was the nothing that the Lord had created. The outside of space and time where all of the nothing exists. I imagine that if I was a part of the nothing, that surely others must have been part of the nothing with me. Unborn children lofting out of existence, people caught between the end of their lives on Earth and the beginning of their lives in eternity. They shared the nothing with me, and we molded together into nothing.
All that remains in my mind left of my experience in the void is nothing. A shrivel of a feeling I had just before it ended, a split second as I exited the eternity scope of nothing. It was like being at the corner of the universe, just outside on the edge, and flying back in within a fraction of a second. It was beyond description, a deep feeling that only surfaces in moments where you temporarily loose track of where you are, or when a lot of time passes without you realizing where it went. Except, of course, that there is no time in nothing. There is no place or universe or even eternity to return to. You've forgotten that they existed. You've forgotten you existed.
Then, at that exact moment, when ages or a millennium could have passed without you knowing about it, just when your mind has had enough of lying down, dead and useless, there is intervention.
"Where am I?" said Juno.
Juno stood still in an empty, all white room. She was wet and cold; all of her clothes were damp, and her hair and skin were lined with a thin layer of salt. As she looked around, she saw nothing but white everywhere. Juno was alway curious as to what an all white room would look like. She nodded and smirked in approval. "I must be dead," she thought. This thought was nothing new to her; she often thought the same in many of her dreams.
"Can I help you?" came a old, dank voice from behind Juno. I quick one-eighty turn around and there before her sat an surprisingly young, surprisingly pale-faced individual behind a large wooden desk. He was looking up from his writing with a feather pen and spectacles that he put down on the desk as he made I contact with her.
"Where is this place?" stammered Juno, "am...am I dead?"
"No, not dead," said the stranger, "But you aren't exactly living though, are you?"
He paused and leaned back in his easy chair. He explained, "What 'this' is...well let me break it down for you. When a person dies, their spirit is to be released from the body. This happens quite fluidly on most occasions, and it's really a rather natural process. Unless of course there is another spirit present attempting to hold you back from death. In that instance, in this case your instance, the spirit is then held in a holding pattern outside of space and time completely."
"So, what am I doing here now?" said Juno.
"In simplest terms, milady, your body could not take it any longer. Your self, your...conscious self is now attempting to in essence 'wake up', stop messing around with all this death nonsense and just go one way or another. This is your brain's response to the conundrum that at this point you no longer exist. In earthen terms or in terms eternal."
"Will I remember any of this if I do 'wake up'?"
"Hard to say really. After all, I am your creation for this situation. This is your reality. If you wish to remember it, I imagine that you will in some form or another."
"Wait, wait a minute. If I'm not dead, and I'm just making all of this up, then how do I - well how do you - know all of this?"
"That, miss is a bit tougher for me to explain. You are connected with the Father, hence your spiritual self does have an understanding of eternity. Thus, though it is buried deep within the recesses of your conscious self, you have understood all of these things all along. Right now, someone is trying to save your life, thus you cannot go one way, to eternity, or the other way, back to life, until their efforts are complete. Until their spirit has given up all hope, or accomplished its mission to save you, you'll be here."
"So who's spirit is trying to save me?"
Chapter 13. Jacob's Rescue
Sandy and wide-eyed, only one thought entered my head when I awoke scarred and muddied on the winding beach head: "Where is Juno?" I rose to my feet; slowly at first, but gaining altitude and speed with each passing breath. I had her hands clasped in my own the entire storm's length, but at some point they had been separated. For what reason, I could not remember. Perhaps it was all a test. Perhaps it was all a dream.
"JUNO!" I cried down the beach. I followed my own voice. Each yell seemed empty with nothing to bounce off of. No one was in sight, but I knew that Juno had to be close. "JUNO!" I continued shouting. I heard no response from anyone. Then, at the moment before I would loose all hope, I saw her hair, her face, and then the rest of her floating in the surf. I panicked.
The first thing any physician would do in this situation escaped my mind completely. I grabbed her around the stomach and dragged her lifeless body up the beach. I checked her breathing to find nothing. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the crewmen approaching.
"You there!" I yelled to him, "Yes! You!" He walked towards me, and I asked, "What is your name, lad?"
"Isaiah," he said sheepishly.
"Isaiah," I said, "Do you know anything about medical care?" He shook his head, and I figured it would be too much to ask of such a young fellow. "Listen, I know you don't know much, but I'm training to be a physician. She's not breathing, but I know how to revive her. I'm going to press on her chest a few times. When I say 'breath', I want you to plug her nose, and blow air into her mouth. Are you ready?"
The boy was hesitant, but I knew that he wanted to be helpful in any way he could. I began pumping, and slowly more people from the Heron began to appear. Among them were Percy, Melton, and Benjamin.
"Breath!" I shouted, and Isaiah responded with haste. I looked up to the now three people surrounding us and yelled, "Does anybody have some fresh water?"
Percy ran off to get her canteen, and I continued to pound on Juno's chest. Doubt circled every inch of me. Though I had no sense of time in the moment, I reasoned that it had been some time since she had surfaced. Tears welled up in my eyes, and nothing mattered to me but my want to see her live.
"Breath!"
It took everything out of me. I was exhausted, and I gathered all my energy into each thrust. She was worth every muscle grinding ache, and every shift in the sand that made my head spin. The salt water dripped into my eyes and made them swim. Every second seemed like an eternity. I never want to be back there again.
"Breath!"
I could see it all right then: the family condolences, the flower petals, the funeral at sea.
"Ah!" I screamed, all of me evaporating into the beach. I threw myself away from her and wailed. On all fours facing the sea I wept bitterly. I felt through the moist shore for answers, but there were none to be found. I looked over at Isaiah and found him crying as well, with his hands at his face in a complete, mystified horror. Percy returned also, dropping the canteen at her feet and lowering herself to the ground.
And then, right then, as all hope had faded away, new life sprung into Isaiah the youthful crewman. He rose and began pumping at Juno's chest, just the way that Jacob did. Over and over the boy just beat away at her cold chest. Percy tried to relieve him and pull him away, but to no avail. The boy simply would not give up.
Then, a cough.
The binds of the ocean gripping Juno's lungs were loosed, and I rushed over to her to hold her in my arms. Isaiah crawled backwards to give us room. As I cradled her on the beach, I cried the happiest tears I have ever shed. I looked at her, and she looked at me. Juno was looking all about, and when her eyes found Isaiah, she smiled.
"Thank you, Isaiah," she said, "Thanks for holding out for me."
Chapter 14. Shivering Coast
A shadow descended on the beach that evening. Crystal was moon as it hung over the beach, lighting our way into the depths of the jungle. A cold wind passed through the trees to the shivering coast, where the Heron lay sideways and immobile. I reckon that the boat is not completely out of commission, but that it will take several days or weeks to ready again for sailing. My son led the people away from the wreckage and into the heaping forests looking for this boy Orion who was lost in the thick of it.
No one shouted his name for fear of waking the tribesmen. The crew carried along guns, although many were appalled at the idea. We doubted very much that the locals would be hostile so long as we had the medallion. Benjamin thought otherwise. He assured us all that it was just a precaution, nothing more. True, it is only a precaution, until someone gets shot. Ben's own rifle was holstered at his side carried on his shoulder. He gripped it the whole way through the jungle.
We came to a clearing, and decided to set up camp for the night. In the morning, we awoke to the sound of drums. We followed the sound but found nothing for many miles. Some folk amongst the group thought it could be spirits taunting us. Others said that the letter could be a hoax. Olaf, Orion's father, assured them otherwise.
Pretty soon we were running out of jungle. We found ourselves on the opposite coastline, wondering where this tribe had disappeared to. Melton assured us on several occasions that the tribe should be all over this island. This prompted several to begin whispering that we weren't on the right island at all.
Then Juno found something in on the beach. Buried beneath a heap of sand, there was the captain of the Jupiter Moon's roll-top desk. Quickly, the crew and others uncovered the desk and opened it up. Inside they found several money pieces and letters. All of them were hand-written by the captain. Most of them, according to those of the crew who could read, made almost no sense at all. Needless to say, some of the newly learned readers began to have doubts in their abilities.
We were three days in searching for Orion. If the boy were still on the island, then it would be several days more before we would find him. Again, nightfall came and we were forced to bed on the beach. Melton poured over old manuscripts trying to reason as to why the tribe had abandoned the island. He several times got up to speak with Benjamin, but I could not hear what they spoke of.
In the middle of the night, I heard chattering from where I slept in the sand. I rose to find Olaf embracing a young man no taller than he. Orion had found us rather than us finding him, and slowly all awoke to find our mission was accomplished. Several broke into singing and cheering, others simply hugged the boy and cried.
With Orion was a young man whom none of us recognized. The young man's name was Beyotambev, and he was garnished in cloth and bone-like jewelry. On his neck hung a medallion very similar to the one I carried with me. It was a fish with a spear coming out of its mouth. Beyo introduced himself in rough French, a language which Melton and Orion both spoke. Orion said that Beyo was his body guard, and that the tribe had given him Beyo as a token of deep appreciation. Orion explained that he was with the tribe before they left the island, and that he had many stories to tell and much to show us.
Knocked overboard like a flimsy doll, this wayfaring traveler fell victim to the beast. Armed, but never dangerous, with gun barrels smoldering as they climbed over the bulkhead. As the great beast's hind foot found my face, it was like a dream altogether realized. I was flying overboard turntables over the hoard, tumbling head over heals to the ocean. Not for my own reckoning could I recall what brought me to this. Not for my own life could I recount what step was amiss.
A crazed captain like a headless horseman bound to fall off of his steed raised up his sword against the shivering sea. Tied to the shore, men go loony aboard but all of their trust's in the gold. All those aboard won't get the pleasure of growing old. Never a time like the present to dastardly trap for a living. Ever there was a lot for a peasant to grow up some sea legs for a shilling. "Oh, there're risks," he said, "But brother, you mustn't fret! The winds and the currents can settle your debts!"
And I believed him. The fool in the air like a trapeze stunt gone horribly awry. My back to the surface ignoring my claws for the sky. Then I saw it out the corner of my eye. The clock stood still for a time, I fathom, and the sun settled deep within the clouds for only a moment. Locked and loaded there stood the captain, aiming a harpoon for her belly. The rope caught the wind for a moment, looped out the stern and grazed me in the chin. A truly mighty throw through the world of slow motion, water splashing the sharpened rod as she soared through the void. Nothing can stop her, nothing can stop her. Nothing but the belly of that gargantuan...thing. As her middle engulfed metal, her weight engulfed the captain, and both were dragged into the sea. Time let loose it's sympathy.
I found the depth appealing, up to the point when the ghosts started reeling. I heard the cries from the darkness below, lifting heads and beginning to surface. Begrudgingly, I too turned for the surface. While death would be sweet, the soul's of dead sailors await my defeat. Maybe greeted by Ahab and kind, maybe Mephistopheles would turn out to be a nice guy. I'd glide on his wings while he ravaged the weak, too timid and lost to leave the surface and swim with the fishes. Here he comes now.
A board on the wake, a current to follow. These were the things that I needed to borrow. For a time, yes, perhaps I would live. But salting my life line is cruelty's gift. Truly bitter irony. Water in my hair, sting in my eyes, filthiness in my mouth. All the crud left over from a long night in ecstasy littered my lungs and tattered my blood. Every breath was a pound in the wrong direction, every heartbeat a drum to the deep. The rope had cut my chin.
Alleviating my pain and replacing it with fear I remembered the facts my ocean schooling taught me this year. Sharks can smell blood from miles away. Years ago I didn't know that sharks could even have nostrils. A decade ago I would've asked you, "Please mum, what be a nostril?" This is no time for nostalgia. Quickly I must seal this wound. I grabbed a piece of swelling wood from the stray rafter, pressed its splintering bark into my chin. The salt brought tears welling, blood flowed for seconds after, sealed at last the wound on my chin. Ripped a strand of moist yarn from the shoulder of my shirt. "There, that ought to do it."
Chapter 2. The Arm of the Ocean
A sea tattered hood on a sea fearing captain, one who has found the Arm of the Ocean. Not a vague idea, or imagery of the sort, but a place to feed and humble beings gathered on the wharf. A lackluster pub, coastal center to cool the tongues of those weary of the wobbling waters. The Arm draws in most everyone at port, at least the poor saps the waves and fate can contort. To both wretched and commoner, scum and pristine, vile and astute, "Come crush a cup of rum, me hearties! Come! We've spirits, pales, ginger ales, and liquored birds to boot!"
Red the sign outside the stall where vermin go to who knows what. What filth and garbage can find their homage 'neath the roofings of this hut. Yet here he sits, in quiet abandon, lost in all his thoughts. He barely even lifts his lips to blow a smoky, aimless kiss that disappears into the crowd lost probably on someone's shoulder, or under their sweaty armpit. Fitting place for filth to land. Yes that's right, the Arm of the Ocean.
As luck would have it, a lass in drab walked right by the dinner slab roasting in the pit. She knows his name, she knows his schemes, but has not much to do with it. A gun in her satchel, a sword on her flank, and cunning enough with a well hidden shank, she walked to the table. Well, moseyed is more like. She sat down at once and pointed her pike. The muzzle and barrel shivered and rose to nuzzle right up to his shade covered nose.
"What brings you here, oh lonely traveler? Women, booze, or both at once? My name's Percy, I've seen your picture, posted 'round all'a the downtown blocks. I've heard your tales 'fore falling to bed, no come with me love. Come along on now. They've got a nice bounty on your head."
As he leaned in close and pulled the gun hand aside, his lips crossed the plain of darkness inside that ill covering hood, that raggedy drag. He hissed out a quip that might settle the score, "There's a big, ugly ego trapped inside yours."
She panicked. "Another move and you'll find your heart has exploded."
He didn't. "Doubt that ma'am, you're gun isn't loaded."
Shaky, finger-crossed, knee buckling terror lead the small gun to its leather-bound holster. He stood and threw coins to the table, paid for the drinks lest this dame wasn't able. The bounty on him was private sector business, and the hire is only particularly desperate. With that he departed, or so he had hoped. Percy had other plans clutched in her hand. She threw the pieces cross the room unleashing drunkards like pirates dashing for doubloons.
Unsheathing her terror to the people's dismay, and shooed all those begging for her to belay. With that he too unleashed his ferocity, demanding her sword be pushed aside. A few mighty strokes and she knew she was beaten, so she took on a new kind of defensive reason.
"Someone help! This man is attacking me! You wouldn't hurt such a delicate woman, would you?" she swooned and frightened the look on her face.
He paused, but quickly regained his composure. "No!" he said frankly, and made for the doorway.
Percy pursued her outsmarting bounty. "Have you know I could've easily killed you!"
"Please my dear, Percy. They've only use for me alive. Since you can't kill me, and you can't beat me, and you can't steal me, then what's there left for you to do?"
Percy pressed him back against the door frame and brought her face up to his face. Saying, "I can't kill, you..or any other man. I can't beat, you...or any other man. I can't steal, you...or any other man." She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand, "Heaven forgive me, I can't even steal your heart."
"There's nothing good for you to steal," he said, "This heart grew cold many years ago, my dear. Dark and dead as the ocean, I fear. Not even a beauty warm as yours could bring fires of life to a place such as this. A place like my dimly lit heart." He parted Percy's hair and gazed in her eyes, and with that he departed the Arm of the Ocean.
Chapter 3. If Men Were Ships
He then began to muse to himself, "I'm a simpleton, but the Author of this world has called me to be captain. He asked me to be the leader of a lonely vessel called the Great Blue Heron. Shipping shipments and shipmates, codgers with canes leading protagonists in vain, off to rescue an unknowing princess. Lawyers and lawmen, judges and juries, even the ropes they tie to depart the lawbreakers with a lever-pulled 'Good-bye'. I've wandered every ocean, endured tempests Zeus himself could not have imagined, but love escapes my feral grasp.
"If this Author willed, all it would take is a swoosh of his pen. Even the costs of my living are void in his world. Lest for him the cost of ink, but even a good friend could loan him a bottle and bread to sustain. According to His law He could invent the laws with the ink He conjured from His fingertips, in fact He could write my life in His own blood. All I know is that my story must go on, just as the currents must always run their course. All must fulfill their purpose. My heart has longed for that wayfaring protagonist nobly rescuing that unknowing princess. To be the man that allows the story to continue, to unravel the plot lines as I lift the mainsails. To haphazardly fall headlong through my moral instability and be the one who destroys the enemy. I have grown lonely these days.
"I've never had another hand to hold but compass and bearing, no other eye to gaze upon but the stars in the sky. Only my own palm can be pressed by my fingertips. My quarters are empty and old, and my breath is the only one I can see glisten in the moonlight cold. Men are hardly fitting company when your business is loneliness. The blue seems eternal as it stretches over the horizon like a blanket.
"If men were ships, then our brains would be the captain. Then our subtleties would be the eccentric first mate; hatching daily his mutinous plot. He'd maroon our reason in a far away land. 'Course all his greedy longings would soon be forgot, like the last tide traveling out as fast as it came in.
"Sometimes I tread low; as if I were deep beneath the pressures of the sea. Walking with my hands hanging low like a primate island, where everyone refuses to evolve and start swaying their arms. I drag myself across the deck, every inch of me aches with an invisible longing; a longing to fulfill that ever-present need to be a part of this story. Perhaps even the days I'm an ape can be used to portray these character traits. Maybe in suffering I too can find solace; maybe the strength that I lack can be gleaned from the port to my back, the spray in my face, and the wind in my sails. Sometimes that's all that I have."
Chapter 4. Whispers in the Clouds
"Sweetheart, wishes cannot even begin to ask, must this time of ours depart?" whispered Jacob into Juno's ear.
"Why yes dear, nothing is built to last, at least not forever. Years, maybe, but not forever." replied Juno softly just above the soothing sound of waves intruding the beach outside their home. "The clouds are beautiful tonight," she continued, "But not even the clouds will be the same tomorrow. The tide won't come up to exactly this part of my thigh in three nights. Who's to say I'll even be out here? Who's to say either of us will not have already left this world?"
"Don't speak of such things, Juno. You and I are here, this is all happening now, and nothing - not even the difference of clouds in the sky, can change that here...and now," said Jacob.
The two embraced and kissed embodied by the rays of the sunset. It formed like a ring around both of their faces, an establishment of love with heavenly traces. As Juno lifted her eyelids a shine rose from the ground to her eye. Such a shiny pearl buried deep within the sand, or at least that's what it seemed at first glance. Kneeling down and pawing at the earth only momentarily, she excavated this glass bottle, a modern day fossil, and inside parchment no older than both of them.
"Look Jacob, a message in a bottle. Like tales of old, and tales I'm sure to be told, let's find what message there is inside to behold." exclaimed Juno, holding high her archaic prize. She reached up to break it open on a rock beside the fencepost, but Jacob stayed her hand.
"Just open the thing, we may need the bottle later," he said. After she pulled the note out of the bottle, she leaned up against the fence and began to read.
March 4th, near Echo Island,
The waters are calm and lonely today. Not a whale in sight. I hope she surfaces soon, I dare not draw much closer to this cursed island. This constant motion is driving me insane. Cabin fever waxes and wanes all throughout every single night. I'm sleep deprived, malnourished, and this vessel has certainly seen better days. Perhaps this catch will prove worthwhile. The men saw its size. They squabble daily on the girth of its gargantuan tail. "Thirty harpoons," they say, "And eleventy bullets."
The task at hand is suicidal, but I care not. This beard has grown to its extent, and my bones have aged to the point of decomposition. If my spirit could break free, it would have floated high above the waters and strangled the beast with ferocious magic this world has never known. Perhaps in my death I will by chance slay this monster. If for nothing else to be able to slay it again in eterni-
The letter suddenly trailed off into illegibility and then abruptly stopped. Strange as it was, Juno flipped the letter over.
To the finder of this bottle,
My name is Orion, son of Olaf Belton. I am the captain's aide on the whaling vessel Jupiter Moon. We were on our way to port when we ran across one of the largest whales the captain had ever seen. Short supplied and fatigued as we were, the captain insisted that we pursue. As we began to close on our prey, she turned for the ship and began to rip us apart. Large as she was, her agile frame eluded our barrage of gun fire and harpooning. At last the captain slay the beast, but not before its body cut our ship in two. I was able to float to a remote island on the captain's roll-top desk. Inside I found this parchment that he journaled on frequently. This island is inhabited by a strange tribe. Send help immediately. We were miles off course, but heading west and closing on this mysterious island. That is all I know for now. Hurry.
As the two finished reading the letter, they nodded with one another and headed into town.
Chapter 5. Fish Tower
The librarian led Jacob and Juno down into the library stacks for a look at the records. The chances of finding the Belton family name was about 5 to 1 against. No matter. The boy Orion was in need of help immediately. Librarian Melton was known for his great knowledge of the records, but he was also known for his haughty tongue and belittling attitude. He also knew much of the museum, archeology and geography. Whether he was the wisest man in all the land was debatable at best, for if there's anything common amongst the wise is that they must convince both themselves and others that they are the wisest.
"Here it is, the Book of B's," said Melton as he thumbed through the pages. "Says here that your Belton fellow is from around here. It's probable that this is their port city as well, and that the vessel wasn't terribly far from the mainland before she turned to chase the whale. If it were, in fact, nearing Echo Island then that must be where the boy and his roll-top desk ran aground."
"Do you know why the captain was afraid to go near that island?" asked Jacob.
"For that, we must go the museum." replied Melton.
In the next hallway, Jacob and Juno found themselves surrounded by artifacts. In the center of the room stood a plaque with a medallion displayed in front of it. Melton led them to the plaque and put his elbow up on the pillar. The medallion glistened in the light beaming in from the open ceiling. On the medallion was carved the image of a fish with a tower growing from its back. The image puzzled both as the looked on.
"You see," said Melton, "The isle in question isn't one of much dignity. For years we here have sent forth to the tribes dwelling there missionaries. Out of the sent fourteen, only one returned. The prize he held and said he nearly died to acquire stands here today, the last remaining memory of a doomed people. It goes without saying that these people were hostile towards visitors - ahem, intruders to their island."
"Who is the survivor?" asked Juno.
"The survivor," continued Melton, "Died years ago of natural causes. He left behind a daughter and three sons. All have left this area save one, Stanley, who resides here in town working for a commercial shipping company called Wings of the Ocean. He used to captain a vessel himself, a vessel called the Great Blue Heron. He now owns the better half of the company, and his son pilots the ship. I know him personally, he's a very dear friend of mine. The Great Blue Heron has shipped in our supplies a number of times, and the son - can't remember his name - well anyways he's a swell young chap. Very knowledgeable of cartography and creativity."
"Do you think he would be interested in aiding us in a journey to this island?" whispered Juno to her Jacob, "I'm sure that with the father of the Belton boy, the grandson of this missionary, and this medallion in hand, we might be able to free Orion from this hostile tribe!" She then turned back to Melton and asked, "May we please take this medallion? Perhaps it can help us to communicate with the tribe."
Melton smirked. "Actually, the only person left on earth who can speak to the tribe is me. The missionary left behind a book of translation. I buried it deep within the stacks, but often times it tickled my interest and I red of it. Though I'm not as well versed as he, if I took the book along, I could be of some use on this voyage also," he said.
"Also," he continued, "About this medallion. You'll have to ask Stanley if it can be yours to borrow. He is truthfully the rightful owner."
Chapter 6. Brothership
They called me in the evening on the fifth. They said to me, "Olaf, your son is dead." I would not believe, not for the life of me. Now from the sea arrives a glimmer of hope, a shining bottle in the reef with a note. Picked up and brought to me by three, who after scrounging up a forth, walked to meet me by the wharf.
Gathered at the sunset, I found the four of them on the dock head. One was Juno, the beautiful maiden of the north. Another her dearest, the one they call Jacob, who was found fond in his mother's eyes. Then the librarian, who knew nothing of doing, but much of saying and teaching. Then there was Stanley. If ever there were a happier man, even in these trying times, I would not know of any. His smile basked in the evening dusk, and his whiskers glistened with last hour's dinner remains. Even with a son so far gone, I could not help but smile at his unseen fortune.
My bag thrown over my shoulder, dragging along my satchel and such, I crossed the deck to meet with the folk. I was greeted with nods, simple hand shakes and solemn faces. All except Stanley, who smiled at me as his eyes opened their window frames and let the cool night breeze in. From deep within him hummed a boisterous housekeeper, and in his chest he clapped and danced in place. As we climbed aboard the vessel and he disappeared into the captain's quarters, it was as if two suns were setting. Stanley knew better than anyone on board that we would find my son, and find him well.
I found Juno and sat next to her by the steps. Within the shadow of the deck she was windowed in darkness. Her smile seemed to speak beyond words. She looked up at nothing, yet found so much joy in the nothing as to perplex even her. She didn't even know why she was smiling, and shrugged it off as if to say to herself, "I know! Crazy, huh?" Though her words were always few I found almost infinite comfort in her patience. She wasn't even pressing the deck hands to speed along the process. It was as if her walk in life had slowed into a stroll and she was loving every minute of it. Jacob came down to sit next to her, so I skated over the wet deck to where Melton was kneeling down.
He seemed intent on understanding this tribe's language. The boat to Echo Island would take at least a week, or so the captain said. This gave Melton ample time to study and at least grasp the basics of communication. It was imperative, he said, to discover the meaning of the medallion with the tower coming out of a fish. That must be why he keeps repeating the word for "medallion" in that tribal tongue. "I feel that this will be a most incredible adventure," he said to me after he noticed me standing above him.
The captain, however, seems less than optimistic. While he wishes us well in all that we embark upon this voyage, there's a subtle but unmistakable doubt in his words. Tremors in the waves of his voice, like drums in the depths of a cavern. Perhaps his fears are hidden because he hasn't found a way to express the things that he fears. He sleeps now on deck with his first mate at the wheel. I gather that these two have known each other for quite some time, and have bonded as only lifelong companions can.
They have traversed the same countless leagues and felt the same crisp sea breeze. They must have swallowed the same surf when the gulf proved far too difficult. They both would have died for the other, held tight within the other's arms. The living swaying back and forth leans in to softly whisper sweetly, "You know I'd switch places with you in a heartbeat." Proven and tried through lashing of tongues, it's obvious even to me, a stranger, this friendship - brothership - could not be undone.
"Take us out, Benjamin," the captain said, and we were on our way.
Chapter 7. Stowaway
From bellow the deck flew out a young woman who none of us had ever seen. She stumbled forward tied at the wrists and dripping with sweat. Her clothes were ripped to shreds and the bruises on her face looked like they were delivered fast. She fell forward and barely caught herself on the mast. She coughed as all of the air rushed out of her, then she fell to the floor. All the other shipmates backed up to the railings as the captain stepped up onto the deck after her.
He stood in front of her, just looking. He lifted his arms with a loss for words. He turned to face the horrified crowd, then back to her. After a few times with this dance of confusion, he finally stopped and knelt down to look her in the eye. He sighed, cupped her chin with his free hand and said to her softly, "What on Earth are you doing here, Percy?"
"To be honest, I don't know," she said, "Thought for sure you were traveling. Then I saw the others come on board, these one's I'd never seen before. Thought since they weren't business folks that some thievery was at hand. Didn't know much, to be sure, of this cursed island."
"I never spoke of an island," said the captain, "So you must be reading my journal there, friend."
"You know this woman?" chimed in a curious Benjamin, "I've seen her face before, always mulling around the dock. I took her for a beggar with that scurvy looking get up. She looks like about the poorest thing I ever saw."
"She's here to collect my bounty, Benjamin. Or at least, that was what she was here for originally," said the captain, "But forgive me madam, if you'll excuse me."
The captain pulled Benjamin aside near where I was standing. He gave me an glance to tell me to back away. The fury in them told me to make it hasty. I took Juno's hand and marched her over by the other crewmen. She looked at me, but I had no answers for her, even in the looks of my own. Looks, looks, everywhere there were looks. Eyes darting from Percy back to others, others back to Percy. With such a bouncing confusion, a ruckus was bound to begin. Pretty soon our tongues wouldn't stand for such nonverbal communication.
I couldn't hear what the captain was saying, but his gestures were intensifying by the second. I gather that he and Benjamin were discussing what was to be done, after all a stowaway is not something to be taken lightly, even one that looked so very innocent. After much deliberation, the captain moved his hands through his hair and breathed in deep. He was about to say something.
Lifting his right hand, the captain decreed, "The stowaway Percy will stay in my quarters. No one is to enter my bedroom but her, not even me. I will sleep with the crewmen until we return to port. If so much as a finger is laid on this woman, we will return it with lashings. No one may talk to her, and even glances are discouraged. We will all act as if I had not discovered her. That is all, men. Back to your chores."
Chapter 8. Sirens in the Night
In the night air they whispered sneakily. I doubt if they even knew I was listening. I heard their words, but never saw their faces. I couldn't look back 'cause they thought I was sleeping. "Do you think the captain trusts this woman to stay in bed this evening?" One asked.
"I doubt the captain trusts her at all. We must hold our tongues in front of him though, we know not his intentions," the other replied.
"Do you think he knows of ours? I'm surprised the captain didn't just turn the ship around. We'd best discover where this girl is from before we run aground. I wouldn't trust her for anything. She may compromise everything."
"Let's retire, down below. We will discover the origins of this girl soon enough. For now, keep quiet and keep your head down and leave everything up to me. I will keep the captain's mind at ease."
With that, the two sets of footsteps left the deck and went down to the crewman's quarters. I got up after they were out of sight and pondered how I would tell the captain what I heard. These men were obviously up to something, and something certainly no good. He lay fast asleep by the other crewman navigating through the night. I went to wake him but stopped dead when I saw the one they call Juno exiting the captain's sleeping quarters.
"Easy, sailor," she said, "The captain said I should talk with the stranger. I tried to calm her down and cool ourselves down. She is but a helpless girl, marooned by her parents before she was seven. She is sleeping soundly now, it's okay." Juno paused, "Forgive me sailor, but what is your name?"
"My name is Isaiah, after the fellow in the Bible who saw God," I said.
"Seen Him around lately, have you?" Juno asked, jokingly.
"I believe I see Him every evening in the stars," I said, "I believe I hear him groaning in the air when the sun goes to sleep. He whispers in my ear as He cools my brow with the breeze. When the whales sing as sirens in the night, I know they sing so that He might pass by. Hear them? Some nights I swear I could almost sing along. It won't take me a face-to-face to know that bowing before His throne is my only option."
We walked slowly over to the railing of the ship. I felt my way to a nook in the wood that I knew by memory. I circled the inside with my finger, too bashful to continue talking. She leaned forward over the board and looked out to the calm waters. Something about the moment cooled me to the core.
"You're a wise young lad," said Juno, "And your words are beautiful. You obviously know much of things unseen. I look forward to sharing happy things with you again in the Kingdom of Heaven. For now though, what has you in such a fuss this evening that you cannot go to bed?"
"It's funny you should ask, because I think God woke me up. He woke me to hear two men talking in a guilty sort of fashion. Secretly they whispered to one another of some kind of plans. What or where they will execute their evil is unknown, and I couldn't even see their faces. I must tell the captain before I lay down for the night," I explained.
"Let's go wake him then," said Juno.
Chapter 9. A Promise is a Promise
I woke hastily from my dream, a dream I dreamt so often I can recite it for memory. I stretched out over the enormity of the bed. The bed was so large, and the sheets were so soft. I could never find comfort like this in my loft. I rubbed my chest into the linen and moaned; felt for the pillow and cuddled with it.
In this place of complete comfort, the boat rocking and lulling me with creaking lullabies. I felt my bruises and groaned, let out my breath with a descending hum. Just as I began to drift back to sleep, the captain barged in with Juno and a strange young boy. He shut the door behind him and looked back at me.
"Forgive us, Percy. We need this room for an emergency meeting," said the captain.
I nodded and yawned. I was too tired to listen. I didn't care of what I was missing. As I fell back asleep I heard much of our safety. I heard so much of keeping "hush hush" that I forgot really why I was listening. It was imperative to keep quiet, apparently. I thought to myself as I turned back to slumber. I thought things like, Is talking about being quiet anything like quietly talking? If I talk quietly to Jesus, do you think that sounds like yelling to Satan? Jesus, if I make crapes for breakfast, will You eat some with me? Waffles or crapes, Jesus, go! Oh, oh, quiet...the dream is starting now. Oh I love this part, watch this! This is me dancing! Oh and there's my mother. She's so proud of me. She promised that she would always watch me dancing, and that she would never-ever let her eyes wander. "Never-ever-ever?" I asked.
"Never-ever-ever," she said.
Chapter 10. Warning Signs
Just as the sun broke over the horizon on the eighth day, there came about a mighty wind. We felt the chill and captain yelled, "Storm comin'!" and went about his work. I walked over to talk with him, but he didn't respond to any of my questions. He muttered to himself as he tied down some loose ends. "If it hits us before nightfall, we'll be fine. 'Less she's a squall of unusual size, then of course we're undone for sure," he said, "Damned if I'll die to some two-bit tempest come round our sails." He lifted his voice, "Full speed ahead!"
"Sir, it's too dangerous!" I insisted, "If we take the boat full speed into the heart of the storm, we'll capsize!"
"No!" He protested, "No, we're already at least a day ahead of schedule. If the storm doesn't hit us until nightfall, we'll be close enough to the island to weigh anchor and ride her out."
"I agree with the captain," said the first mate Benjamin, "We'll be close enough to shore, and this boat will not capsize. If we turn around now, the storm will catch up with us and we'll be hit by it anyways. If we're lucky she'll dissipate o'er the summits of the island and not rain so hard on us. 'Course that'd take a great deal of luck."
"Luck is something I've got plenty to afford," said the captain, "'sides I've been saving luck from the last ten voyages of mine. All ten went sour, and all the cargo was dumped, lost, or confiscated. That includes passengers, mind you. Of course it's always dangerous business ferrying known felons."
"You've ferried felons!" I stammered, "Just what kind of boat ferries felons?"
"Just calm down Melton, there's nothing to be worried 'bout," said the captain, "Ferry felons, carry melons, what's the difference, am I right? Besides, I didn't really know they were felons to begin with. It just sort of came up in passing, ya' know like one of those conversations like, 'So, what kind of business do you fellas have going for you in Cuba?', and of course when they said, 'Mercenaries hired primarily for guerrilla warfare,' I had no choice but to take 'em where they were going!"
"What the captain is trying to say," said Benjamin, "is that we've had our fair share of bad luck these days. So some good luck is bound to come our way. Right, Melton?"
"Right," I said.
Chapter 11. Voice of the Tempest
Through the torrential downpour I heard a voice on the air. I had heard this voice before, but only in my nightmares. She screamed as she ripped at the hull, howling and wailing like a banshee. I grabbed my ears and hurled myself against the railing. I saw the boat lift from the water and braced myself on the wood. The screaming became so intense that it pinpointed atop my ear drums and formed into a needle. It was so sharp and so elongated. Her inhale drew the needle back, and then...silence.
I staggered across the deck through the flailing deck hands and crewmen. Perhaps this too was a nightmare. An awful dream and I was sleeping with the crew. They must be standing over me making storm noises and screaming awfully loud. Perhaps I imagined all the signs of the storm. I looked into the sky as it opened before my very eyes. Only one other person saw it. It was that scrawny little mate called Isaiah. A flash of light filled the sky followed by a huge explosion that knocked everyone on deck to the floor.
Walls of water surrounded the ship on all sides. Like a puppeteer the Lord raised the waters up and down like arms and spindly legs. Suddenly the hands of the ocean lifted the boat in its palms and offered us to the hole in the sky. For fear that the Lord Himself may step down and touch our ship with ferocious lightning, I stayed on the deck with my knees planted so deep in the wood I dare not pull them up lest they be laden with splinters.
This, after all, was the worst storm I had ever encountered. In all my years at sea, every storm seemed trivial to me. They were difficult, sure, but never much challenge. This one, however, was truly remarkable.
A quiet calm found its way over the ship. We were lowered down with the waves momentarily, and slowly whispers filled the air. I ran about trying to grab a phrase coming from the wind. They say that if you listen carefully, you can hear all the voices of those who had just passed through the calm of the storm. You can even leave some of your own for the next group of people. I leaned in close to whisper, "Child's play."
After hearing several "Oh my God"s and "Wow"s I heard one in particular that caught my attention. It was the voice of a young woman saying, "Captain, turn around." I looked up to see that it was Percy, and she was standing right next to me. I turned.
A dragon cleave of water soared towards the ship. At once all on board fell to the ground as the wave engulfed the ship entirely. Suddenly below us the depths quaked and shoved her leagues upward and outward. Then everything went black, and I felt myself floating through the air.
Chapter 12. The Lord Created Nothing
Nothingness. Altogether nothingness. Not black or white, not a thing but nothing. There wasn't anything in the nothingness. It was the nothing that the Lord had created. The outside of space and time where all of the nothing exists. I imagine that if I was a part of the nothing, that surely others must have been part of the nothing with me. Unborn children lofting out of existence, people caught between the end of their lives on Earth and the beginning of their lives in eternity. They shared the nothing with me, and we molded together into nothing.
All that remains in my mind left of my experience in the void is nothing. A shrivel of a feeling I had just before it ended, a split second as I exited the eternity scope of nothing. It was like being at the corner of the universe, just outside on the edge, and flying back in within a fraction of a second. It was beyond description, a deep feeling that only surfaces in moments where you temporarily loose track of where you are, or when a lot of time passes without you realizing where it went. Except, of course, that there is no time in nothing. There is no place or universe or even eternity to return to. You've forgotten that they existed. You've forgotten you existed.
Then, at that exact moment, when ages or a millennium could have passed without you knowing about it, just when your mind has had enough of lying down, dead and useless, there is intervention.
* * *
"Where am I?" said Juno.
Juno stood still in an empty, all white room. She was wet and cold; all of her clothes were damp, and her hair and skin were lined with a thin layer of salt. As she looked around, she saw nothing but white everywhere. Juno was alway curious as to what an all white room would look like. She nodded and smirked in approval. "I must be dead," she thought. This thought was nothing new to her; she often thought the same in many of her dreams.
"Can I help you?" came a old, dank voice from behind Juno. I quick one-eighty turn around and there before her sat an surprisingly young, surprisingly pale-faced individual behind a large wooden desk. He was looking up from his writing with a feather pen and spectacles that he put down on the desk as he made I contact with her.
"Where is this place?" stammered Juno, "am...am I dead?"
"No, not dead," said the stranger, "But you aren't exactly living though, are you?"
He paused and leaned back in his easy chair. He explained, "What 'this' is...well let me break it down for you. When a person dies, their spirit is to be released from the body. This happens quite fluidly on most occasions, and it's really a rather natural process. Unless of course there is another spirit present attempting to hold you back from death. In that instance, in this case your instance, the spirit is then held in a holding pattern outside of space and time completely."
"So, what am I doing here now?" said Juno.
"In simplest terms, milady, your body could not take it any longer. Your self, your...conscious self is now attempting to in essence 'wake up', stop messing around with all this death nonsense and just go one way or another. This is your brain's response to the conundrum that at this point you no longer exist. In earthen terms or in terms eternal."
"Will I remember any of this if I do 'wake up'?"
"Hard to say really. After all, I am your creation for this situation. This is your reality. If you wish to remember it, I imagine that you will in some form or another."
"Wait, wait a minute. If I'm not dead, and I'm just making all of this up, then how do I - well how do you - know all of this?"
"That, miss is a bit tougher for me to explain. You are connected with the Father, hence your spiritual self does have an understanding of eternity. Thus, though it is buried deep within the recesses of your conscious self, you have understood all of these things all along. Right now, someone is trying to save your life, thus you cannot go one way, to eternity, or the other way, back to life, until their efforts are complete. Until their spirit has given up all hope, or accomplished its mission to save you, you'll be here."
"So who's spirit is trying to save me?"
Chapter 13. Jacob's Rescue
Sandy and wide-eyed, only one thought entered my head when I awoke scarred and muddied on the winding beach head: "Where is Juno?" I rose to my feet; slowly at first, but gaining altitude and speed with each passing breath. I had her hands clasped in my own the entire storm's length, but at some point they had been separated. For what reason, I could not remember. Perhaps it was all a test. Perhaps it was all a dream.
"JUNO!" I cried down the beach. I followed my own voice. Each yell seemed empty with nothing to bounce off of. No one was in sight, but I knew that Juno had to be close. "JUNO!" I continued shouting. I heard no response from anyone. Then, at the moment before I would loose all hope, I saw her hair, her face, and then the rest of her floating in the surf. I panicked.
The first thing any physician would do in this situation escaped my mind completely. I grabbed her around the stomach and dragged her lifeless body up the beach. I checked her breathing to find nothing. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the crewmen approaching.
"You there!" I yelled to him, "Yes! You!" He walked towards me, and I asked, "What is your name, lad?"
"Isaiah," he said sheepishly.
"Isaiah," I said, "Do you know anything about medical care?" He shook his head, and I figured it would be too much to ask of such a young fellow. "Listen, I know you don't know much, but I'm training to be a physician. She's not breathing, but I know how to revive her. I'm going to press on her chest a few times. When I say 'breath', I want you to plug her nose, and blow air into her mouth. Are you ready?"
The boy was hesitant, but I knew that he wanted to be helpful in any way he could. I began pumping, and slowly more people from the Heron began to appear. Among them were Percy, Melton, and Benjamin.
"Breath!" I shouted, and Isaiah responded with haste. I looked up to the now three people surrounding us and yelled, "Does anybody have some fresh water?"
Percy ran off to get her canteen, and I continued to pound on Juno's chest. Doubt circled every inch of me. Though I had no sense of time in the moment, I reasoned that it had been some time since she had surfaced. Tears welled up in my eyes, and nothing mattered to me but my want to see her live.
"Breath!"
It took everything out of me. I was exhausted, and I gathered all my energy into each thrust. She was worth every muscle grinding ache, and every shift in the sand that made my head spin. The salt water dripped into my eyes and made them swim. Every second seemed like an eternity. I never want to be back there again.
"Breath!"
I could see it all right then: the family condolences, the flower petals, the funeral at sea.
"Ah!" I screamed, all of me evaporating into the beach. I threw myself away from her and wailed. On all fours facing the sea I wept bitterly. I felt through the moist shore for answers, but there were none to be found. I looked over at Isaiah and found him crying as well, with his hands at his face in a complete, mystified horror. Percy returned also, dropping the canteen at her feet and lowering herself to the ground.
And then, right then, as all hope had faded away, new life sprung into Isaiah the youthful crewman. He rose and began pumping at Juno's chest, just the way that Jacob did. Over and over the boy just beat away at her cold chest. Percy tried to relieve him and pull him away, but to no avail. The boy simply would not give up.
Then, a cough.
The binds of the ocean gripping Juno's lungs were loosed, and I rushed over to her to hold her in my arms. Isaiah crawled backwards to give us room. As I cradled her on the beach, I cried the happiest tears I have ever shed. I looked at her, and she looked at me. Juno was looking all about, and when her eyes found Isaiah, she smiled.
"Thank you, Isaiah," she said, "Thanks for holding out for me."
Chapter 14. Shivering Coast
A shadow descended on the beach that evening. Crystal was moon as it hung over the beach, lighting our way into the depths of the jungle. A cold wind passed through the trees to the shivering coast, where the Heron lay sideways and immobile. I reckon that the boat is not completely out of commission, but that it will take several days or weeks to ready again for sailing. My son led the people away from the wreckage and into the heaping forests looking for this boy Orion who was lost in the thick of it.
No one shouted his name for fear of waking the tribesmen. The crew carried along guns, although many were appalled at the idea. We doubted very much that the locals would be hostile so long as we had the medallion. Benjamin thought otherwise. He assured us all that it was just a precaution, nothing more. True, it is only a precaution, until someone gets shot. Ben's own rifle was holstered at his side carried on his shoulder. He gripped it the whole way through the jungle.
We came to a clearing, and decided to set up camp for the night. In the morning, we awoke to the sound of drums. We followed the sound but found nothing for many miles. Some folk amongst the group thought it could be spirits taunting us. Others said that the letter could be a hoax. Olaf, Orion's father, assured them otherwise.
Pretty soon we were running out of jungle. We found ourselves on the opposite coastline, wondering where this tribe had disappeared to. Melton assured us on several occasions that the tribe should be all over this island. This prompted several to begin whispering that we weren't on the right island at all.
Then Juno found something in on the beach. Buried beneath a heap of sand, there was the captain of the Jupiter Moon's roll-top desk. Quickly, the crew and others uncovered the desk and opened it up. Inside they found several money pieces and letters. All of them were hand-written by the captain. Most of them, according to those of the crew who could read, made almost no sense at all. Needless to say, some of the newly learned readers began to have doubts in their abilities.
We were three days in searching for Orion. If the boy were still on the island, then it would be several days more before we would find him. Again, nightfall came and we were forced to bed on the beach. Melton poured over old manuscripts trying to reason as to why the tribe had abandoned the island. He several times got up to speak with Benjamin, but I could not hear what they spoke of.
In the middle of the night, I heard chattering from where I slept in the sand. I rose to find Olaf embracing a young man no taller than he. Orion had found us rather than us finding him, and slowly all awoke to find our mission was accomplished. Several broke into singing and cheering, others simply hugged the boy and cried.
With Orion was a young man whom none of us recognized. The young man's name was Beyotambev, and he was garnished in cloth and bone-like jewelry. On his neck hung a medallion very similar to the one I carried with me. It was a fish with a spear coming out of its mouth. Beyo introduced himself in rough French, a language which Melton and Orion both spoke. Orion said that Beyo was his body guard, and that the tribe had given him Beyo as a token of deep appreciation. Orion explained that he was with the tribe before they left the island, and that he had many stories to tell and much to show us.
Chapter 15. Ait'bourne du Khan
Led by Beyotambev, the group descended upon a pool ten miles from the eastern shore; a pool being fed by a slow running stream and a waterfall coming from the north. The walk was relatively easy, for even though we traveled inland the path was mostly downhill. The mud around the pool thickened as we got closer, and the entire area south of the waterfall was cleared. It looked as though this place was once a very sacred spot. There was no foliage anywhere, but grass grew in thick and moist. Beyo walked clear up to a rock mound just in front of the pool and placed his staff in a man-made hole.
Led by Beyotambev, the group descended upon a pool ten miles from the eastern shore; a pool being fed by a slow running stream and a waterfall coming from the north. The walk was relatively easy, for even though we traveled inland the path was mostly downhill. The mud around the pool thickened as we got closer, and the entire area south of the waterfall was cleared. It looked as though this place was once a very sacred spot. There was no foliage anywhere, but grass grew in thick and moist. Beyo walked clear up to a rock mound just in front of the pool and placed his staff in a man-made hole.
He turned to face the group, inviting us to join him around the alter-like rock mound. Orion lept up with Beyo and began to speak.
"This is what the natives call Ait'bourne du Khan, or 'the blow hole'. This pool is being fed by fresh water, but the pool itself is salt water. The reason for this is that the pool has no bottom, and is flows downward into the sea. At the 'bottom' of this pool there is a rock pillar that reaches up from what the tribe believes is the very bottom of the ocean. In essence, the island is sitting atop an underwater mountain.
"It is believed that the ancients before this tribes' arrival once scaled this mountain and placed atop it gold medallions of the ancient world. There are said to be thousands of them atop the pillar, and even more scattered at the bottom of it. If you reach the top or bottom of the pillar and find a medallion, you can take it and keep it. However, you are only allowed to possess one. Since every medallion is unique, the possessor of that medallion will know if it has been stolen or earned under false pretenses.
"The tribe says that it is just as challenging to reach the bottom of the pillar and make it back to the surface alive as it was for the ancients to scale the mountain. This feat is heralded as the greatest thing a man can accomplish in his lifetime, and it also is told that reaching the bottom is like traveling back in time. In fact, some tribesmen believe that those who do not return to the surface have simply gone back into ancient times."
Beyo proudly displayed before the crown his medallion. It was obvious that despite his youth he was incredibly strong. He spoke to Orion in French, and then Orion relayed it back to everyone else in English,
"He says that you are all invited to dive into the pool and attempt to retrieve a medallion."
Benjamin jumped on top of the rock and pushed Beyo and Orion aside. "Good!" he exclaimed as he turned to face the pool. He took his rifle from his shoulder and leaned on it. He reached for something down his pants and turned with a grin. "After all," he said, "We wouldn't want to leave empty handed."
Benjamin turned back again to face the crowd, this time with a pistol pointed at my son. With that, several crewmen holding weapons pointed them at the ones without. Melton unfolded his nap sack to reveal a loaded weapon as well, and joined Benjamin by the alter. "Now," said Benjamin, "Let us retrieve these medallions, shall we?"
Chapter 16. Double Double-Crossed
"Put down your weapons!" yelled a strange voice from the north. All of us looked up to see a monstrous black savage standing atop the waterfall. What was even more surprising was that this native could speak English. "Put them down now, and we will show mercy!" I looked all around us to find that we were surrounded, and bodies began emerging from the tree line.
The captain spoke quickly to Benjamin, "Ben, listen to me now. I know we've had our disputes in the past, and right now it looks like a lifetime at sea has somehow not yet secured our friendship, but if you shoot me, any of us, or any of them right now, we are all going to die. Please, friend. Put the gun down."
"No more orders, captain," said Benjamin.
"You knew about this, Beyo?" demanded Orion.
"I had no choice, Or," said Beyo in French, "The medallions had to be protected. Once my father found out that you had sent word for the others, he had me and a group of our best soldiers stay behind to make certain that they were protected. It appears that you friends have compromised their security."
"The boy is as double-crossing as we are," said Melton, "He was going to wait for all of us to reemerge from that pool exhausted and helpless, then he and his hordes men were going to tear us to shreds. Don't think us so naive."
Melton froze. Blood suddenly sputtered from his mouth. Like a meteor from the depths of the wood came an arrow into the back of his head. He fell lifeless to the ground.
Benjamin lifted his pistol and shot once at the man standing atop the waterfall, but missed. With that, however, the entire tribe descended upon the group. Rifle fire went off all around us, and I ducked down to protect myself. The group of survivors without guns huddled in the center of the melee, shifting and dodging the crossfire of bullets and arrows.
As the fire fight continued, I heard the voice of my son yelling something at me. I couldn't quite make it out, but as I turned to face him it all became clear. He was reaching out to me shouting, "Dad! The MEDALLION!"
I ripped the necklace holding it from my neck and threw it. Just as I threw it, I ran into a crewman firing his rifle. The bullet lodged into my boy's left shoulder, knocking him to the ground. The medallion floated through the air, and I ran after it. Benjamin also noticed it and dove. But from behind another sailor soared Juno, reaching out into the air, connecting with her right hand. She collided with Ben midair and fell to the ground. At that moment, spears fell in front of every face in the group, and every hand rose helplessly as we all sat prostrate before the tribe.
Juno held the medallion up high so that everyone could see it. The group of us who were unarmed were all huddled around her facing outward. When the fight had ended, several crewmen and tribesmen were dead. Jacob had an arrow sticking out of his right thigh, and Percy was nursing a scar from falling on a rock. Melton was dead and lay face down in the mud. The man who was standing on the crest of the waterfall now stood above the group. He reached down and picked the medallion from Juno's hand.
"Where did you get this?" he said.
"It was my father's," I said.
"Stanley?" he asked, surprised, "My boy, it is me! Abner!"
Chapter 17. Return to the Heron
Har, har. It was a reunion of special magnificence. Whereas I was pulled away bound and shunned by everyone, Stanley was commended as a dear old friend. I suppose I deserved my fate. It was a valiant effort though. Poor Melton. I never expected the old coot to be the first one offed by the natives. When he came to me with news of the gold hidden on the island, I jumped at the chance not only to become wealthy beyond my wildest dreams, but also to finally have the opportunity to take control of the Great Blue Heron. Now, as we approached the ship on the shore, it would instead be a ferry to my death for mutiny. What a magnificent day for all.
Olaf and Orion spoke with Abner about their release. Abner of course agreed, saying, "Any friend of 'Ol Chuck is a dear friend of mine." Who's this "'Ol Chuck" anyways? While Stanley and Abner reminisced about their childhood and the adventures they'd shared on the island, I was roped to a line pulling the Heron back upright. With a heave from myself and several tribesmen, her body stood upright in the surf once again.
The captain approached me as I lay down to rest. He knelt beside me. "You know, Benjamin," he said, "I was going to carry you into port and have you hanged for mutiny. Instead, I will tell them that you stole from the ship. They will put you in prison for it, but they will not kill you. You will say nothing except to agree with the charges, and serve your time. Do we have an accord?"
I was flustered to the point of speechless. I coughed a bit to catch my breath, then said, "I'm sorry, captain...for everything I have done. So you have said, so it will be done."
He smiled and shook my hand.
Chapter 18. The Fate of the Medallion
The sea breeze shook my bones once again. We were off again and sailing, and the sun loomed high above us, warming my back. I turned around to see all who were left working and smiling, holding each other up with their strength and their words. I saw Juno approach Stanley with the medallion in her hand. "Here is your medallion back, Stanley," she said.
"Keep it," he replied, "I do not need it. I never have need it. That's why a lent it to the museum in the first place. And if not for you, I never would have gone back. Thank you, Juno. Be sure to give my regards to Jacob as he recovers."
"Thank you, Stanley. God Bless," she said.
She looked down at her keepsake. After a minute, she looked up and saw me looking at her. I quickly turned back to the ocean, but she found her way beside me anyways. "Here, Isaiah," she said, and handed me the medallion.
"I don't need this," I insisted.
"As well that you don't, but you did save my life," she said, "Besides, neither Jacob nor I need it. If you do not need it either, then give it to someone who does.""Thank you," I said, "I will hold onto it for now."
I sat for awhile on the steps just staring at it. The spotted fish with a small civilization coming out of its back. It was so unique. I only regret not being able to swim down and retrieve one for myself. This was a rare gift. One to be given only to someone very special. Juno did not adore me as she did Jacob, but she did have a special place for me in her heart.
Then I saw her. She walked out on to the deck, her hair flowing in the wind. I had seen Percy many times before, but never gleaming as she did that day. She looked over at me as I noticed her. I hid the medallion quickly so she didn't see it. She came over at sat beside me. "Isaiah, is it?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, "And you are Percy, the crafty stowaway."
She laughed. "I suppose I was quite the stowaway," she said, "And you are quite the hero. I couldn't believe you saved Juno's life. It was very brave of you. I shouldn't have tried to stop you."
"That's okay, you had every right to. I knew the chances of her pulling through were slim," I said, "Don't kid yourself, not even a physician could've done much to save her. But I knew that the Lord was on our side that day. I knew that He wouldn't let us down, whether or not she died."
"True," she said, "He gives and takes away."
We continued talking throughout the voyage. Every night while I was asleep she would sneak back on deck to wake me. We would talk under the stars for hours. We spoke of God, we spoke of the whales, and we spoke of Beyo and the tribe. Every time the captain saw us late sitting cross-legged by the railing, he wouldn't scold us or tell us to go to sleep. All he would say to us was, "Good night you two. The morning greets us soon."
THE END.
* * *
The Captain's Journal
Entry 1.
Morning of the third day. What happens to the morning dew when it has nothing to cling to? Heavy with salt yet light as a feather, the air was as thick as a well written letter. The ink does not run, the words are not scared to be harsh. Worse is it never leaves the forefront of your mind. Every sentence echoes as if she herself were reading it to your face. You can taste the speech never ending as it breathes in your nostrils. It wouldn't be so painful if the scent weren't so sweet, and the memory of the thoughts you were sure you'd almost forgot. But here it is, being reiterated over and over. Please go away, morning air. While you used to read so smooth and so clean, now all I take in is your bitterness.
Where has all of my happiness gone? What sunset took with it my fulfillment? These days at sea grow longer every year, and the pressure weighs down even my nostrils. Breath in, keep breathing, don't loose your nerve. It never ceases to get harder, but as my exterior deteriorates my mates lift my spirits aloft, and the Great Blue Heron holds both our aging bodies just above the surface of the depths.
Entry 2.
She's holding up rather nicely. It's almost evening. Echo Island is fast approaching, and the Great Blue Heron continues on the straight path there. How I have grown fond of every notch of wood, every swell in her body. Like imperfections on a woman's face I have grown to know them all. She is beautifully imperfect, and that is the miracle of her staying afloat adventure and adventure again.
Still, the island looms in my mind again. I wonder if this race of tribesmen will prove as hazardous as told before. Melton seems to know much of the tribe. And Olaf, the boy's father, is brave and up to the task of finding his lost son. My father would do the same for me. I admire him so much for that.
I do not know what fate we will meet in the days ahead. All I know is that the Lord has finally granted me a story to fulfill. Perhaps this time it will be happy, and I won't be left unsatisfied. In the service of the Lord, no one will be left unsatisfied. Maybe here, in Earthly terms, we won't feel as though our stomachs are full, but we will see the treasures awaiting us when we go home to be with old friends long gone. This I know without a doubt to be true.
Entry 3.
Percy sits in my bed this night. I cannot believe she is here. While I originally thought her to be a burden, I am slowly becoming acclimated to her presence on the ship. When I found her yesterday she was bruised and beaten; torn to pieces from lack of nourishment and exhaustion. Now that she has revealed herself to me and the crew, I am able to take care of her. This brings me great joy, but also great fear. I must not become attached, lest she become like all the others before her. Nevertheless, I find happiness in her comfort.
The boy Isaiah told me also last night about whispers of mutiny. Well, the possibility of mutiny. While nothing is confirmed, I told him and Juno to stay quiet about it, and to keep a watchful eye. I do not suspect anyone at this point, so any man on board could be questionable. I must trust in the Lord to protect us as I never have before. I pray that He is merciful if things get out of control.
Entry 4.
A storm is coming. I do not know if we will make it through this night. The men are stir crazy, and the women are frightened. Talk swirls around the boat to turn back, but the tried and true stay positive, even in their fear. I stay positive because I know deep down that we will survive, if not make it all the way to the island. This may be my last entry in this journal, so in the event of its loss or capture, please take the words in this journal to heart, as they are my only child. Care for them as you would care for a son.
Letters
Here are two letters written after the voyage and return to the mainland. The first is written by Juno to Jacob while he finishes his training to become a physician. The other is written by Isaiah from a port on the other side of the world to Percy, who awaited his return eagerly. He himself beat the letter home, and proposed the day the letter arrived.
Letter #1 - Juno Writes Jacob
Dearest Jacob,
I have missed the warmth of your bosom for many days now. The day I awoke from the darkness to find it again is now a distant memory, and indeed these times have felt dark while you are away. I constantly rely on the Lord for my strength, and my patience rests in His dwelling place.
I have long thought of my drowning experience. I barely remember anything about being in that place between life and death. In the end it wound up being like that place between being asleep and awake. You know, that feeling that you get just before you fall asleep, and that gap in transition between reality and dreams that you never remember when you awake? That is what it was like. Now when I sleep I dream of falling off of the Heron. I dream of loosing sight of your face as I was thrown overboard. I wake up gasping for breath when you are not near me. But when you return we will be married, and even when the Lord takes you away from me, your spirit sill still be with mine, somewhere deep down inside.
I eagerly await your return, dearest. Lord be with you in your final days at university.
Love,
Juno
Letter #2. Isaiah Writes Percy
Percy,
How your beauty fills my mind every night. No sight of land, even after weeks of anticipation, could compare with the happiness I will feel when I see your face again. The captain misses you, the Heron misses you, and I miss you most of all. What joy will be when I return to your shore.
I must keep this short, however. We will leave port soon and we are low on ink. I am running out of my ration now even as I write. But I have a special gift for you when I arrive. I will give it to you the day that you open this letter, along with a ring to lock my love for you in a promise. I promise to always love you, Percy. Even until we return to the sand.
I love you, and I will come back to find your wonderful face.
Love,
IsaiAuthor's Note
This is by far the longest, most challenging piece that I have ever written. It took me about three weeks total, and much of it was written while sleep deprived. If you've taken the time to read the whole thing, I applaud your efforts. Just so all the readers know, the idea for this came while I was scribbling on a piece of paper, and the image I scribbled slowly turned into the image of a bird. The title came, I failed at writing a poem using that title, and the rest is this story. I started and stopped on chapter 3, rewrote chapter 3, then churned my way through the other 15 chapters.
For those of you who waited patiently for this story, I hope it was worth the wait. If you want to know the meaning behind some of the themes, or the inspirations for some of the characters, I'd be more than happy to speak with you about it face-to-face sometime. You can e-mail me about it, comment on my Facebook or Blogger about it, or even AIM me about it. I would love to discuss this with anybody who cares to inquire.
This is by far the longest, most challenging piece that I have ever written. It took me about three weeks total, and much of it was written while sleep deprived. If you've taken the time to read the whole thing, I applaud your efforts. Just so all the readers know, the idea for this came while I was scribbling on a piece of paper, and the image I scribbled slowly turned into the image of a bird. The title came, I failed at writing a poem using that title, and the rest is this story. I started and stopped on chapter 3, rewrote chapter 3, then churned my way through the other 15 chapters.
For those of you who waited patiently for this story, I hope it was worth the wait. If you want to know the meaning behind some of the themes, or the inspirations for some of the characters, I'd be more than happy to speak with you about it face-to-face sometime. You can e-mail me about it, comment on my Facebook or Blogger about it, or even AIM me about it. I would love to discuss this with anybody who cares to inquire.