There was a scream. Tim scrambled towards the direction he had heard it from. When he arrived, the sight was horrific.
"Get Josiah, Ess!" He turned to look at the only one not lying in a pool of blood and knelt before her, arms still on the armrests of the chair. "Anna? Anna? Can you hear me? Say something, please."
Anna mouthed something, but not a sound came out.
"Are you hurt?"
Anna nodded, wincing as she tried to sit up straighter.
"Where? Did you see what happened?"
Anna continued mouthing, which was useless, because Tim couldn't lipread. "Why won't you say something, Anna? Have you lost your voice?"
Anna gave up trying to talk and nodded, relieved that he finally understood. Josiah and Esther clambered into the room and gasped in unison.
"We have to get her out now. It's not safe anymore. The prophet's lost her voice."
They lifted the chair with Anna still on it and hauled the burden out while Tim took a final look around the room.
With a heavy heart he skulked out, not touching anything else; for no one else could be saved from that wreck. When he arrived to where Joss and Ess had placed Anna's chair down, he found a very confused team trying to understand what Anna was doing. She kept pointing and motioning back into the room, pushing herself as though she wanted to walk back in. He pushed her firmly back onto the seat reassuringly. "You're safe now. We're okay here. There's nothing to worry about now, Anna."
But she didn't stop. Tim glared at her into submission, but he yanked out a leaf of paper and a pen for her to scrawl her message for them to read anyway.
At her words, Tim's breath caught, and he fainted. Josiah and Esther exchanged glances and rushed back inside the room.

Yes. They're back. This one is particularly good, mind.

There was a rally, which turned into a war, and i don't know what i was wearing or who i was, but i know i had dark short hair, slightly on the spiky side. I had dark hair, i was taller and lankier than most of the people there, and i was directing the people fighting my side with attack strategies. We were targeting a yellow walled house with a front porch, or maybe it was a building of some sort. Either way, the verandah was wooden and there, on the wrong side of the war, i saw her.
She was crouching behind the first line of attackers, urging them on. There was only one girl in my memory, one girl who had left me without giving me any reason, one girl who i had searched constantly for years, with no sign no matter where i went, one girl whom i loved and could not live without, and she was there, on the wrong side of the battle.
I walked across the firing range and arrived unhurt on the other side. She had been watching me cross the lawn, and now she seemed to crouch even lower below me. A young man's harsh broken voice issued from my mouth as i spoke over the riot. "Do you know how much i have missed you? All these years i have looked for you wherever i have been, wherever there was the slightest chance i thought you could have been i traveled to. I have counted down the days, weeks, months, years away from you, until who knows what i was hoping for. And now? Now i see you here, fighting on the wrong side of the war, fighting me! Why did you leave me? There was no reason, was there? No other guy for you to chase after, no better education to pursue, and you still left me, disappearing forever. Or so you thought."
My arms lifted her from the floor and i carried her against my chest in her frozen state, too terrified to move. We passed the back of the yellow building into the edges of the forest. Tears of anguish threatened to surface and course down my face, but i tried to restrain myself, because guys don't cry. The turmoil raged inside me, of having found the one i loved at long last, after all my hopes, searching, desperation and fears. Now at last she was before me, but with her came another fear, the fear of losing her again struck through my heart. Sure enough, when i set her down, she tried to run from me, but my hand still grasped her wrist, and with it i pulled her back to me, seized her free wrist, and pushed her against the trunk of a narrow tree.
The next thing i knew was that her arms were around the tree, her wrists tied together behind her at the other side. Her legs were wrapped with something -- i don't remember what, probably duct tape -- and her lips were sealed with more duct tape. Only her eyes were free to glare back at me in confusion and utter anxiety. I raised her chin and heard her breath quicken at my touch. She trembled and pleaded with the sound of a puppy sure it would die. I released my grip on her face roughly, and she stopped. "Here's for all the pain you've caused me while you were away," i whispered down her neck. "I have never stopped loving you from the start, and you probably hoped that by leaving me behind, my love for you would be history too. How could it be? You underestimate my love. It cannot be measured. If i can't trust you to stay with me, then this is what you forced me to do." I leaned closer, bearing down on her immovable form, and the dream dissolved into shy morning light.

So beware of me, all! I am dangerous!!
Oh wow, i just realised who i was in the dream... i was Damian...!!! He'll appear in one of my later books -- angels and demons series.

The Bunyip Attack

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armour of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes… Therefore put on the full armour of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.” –Ephesians 6:10-11, 13

It looked at us individually, as though trying to decide which of us it would attack, when it saw the Lieutenant moving slowly toward the bell to raise the alarm. It swooped like a black streak of lightning for him, but he dived for the alarm bell and succeeded. He screeched a warning, but at the same time the Bunyip roared a noise between a howl and a shriek, and suddenly another three appeared out of the gloom.

Mr Porter jolted to life at the sounds. Grabbing me, he yelled above the throng, “Find Katherine, get the Captain out here and hide yourselves in his cabin. Do not let her out, whatever it takes!”

“What about Danielle?”

“Her also. Now go!” He began attacking the bunyip closest to him as I ran off to follow his orders. There was a fierce determination in his eyes I had never seen before, and as I turned away, I glimpsed the Captain running out, longbow strung and aiming.

Katherine and Danielle were at the prow as I’d left them, but they too were under attack from one of the bunyips. Reaching them, I gasped my message, and Danielle seized my hand, flinging me into a strange hole in the deck I had not noticed. Just before I fell into the opening, I saw the bunyip turn away from Katherine, an arrow protruding from its long and slender neck.

Danielle and Katherine followed soon after me, to my relief. The short passage ended abruptly, and the tunnel opened to the crew’s quarters. Danielle led the way to the kitchen, Katherine followed behind me, but before we had made it to halfway, a gasp came from behind me, and a wet neck snapped at us from the open window. Yanking on Katherine’s arm, I shoved her roughly toward Danielle and drew my sword once again. It withdrew, and we hurried away when a squeak issued from Danielle’s direction. Sword still in my grasp, I turned to face the bunyip that had successfully slunk in through the new hole, the frame of the window hanging off its shoulders, water pouring from its sleek body. Lunging at the three of us, I jumped to intercept it and blocked it from Katherine. As it tried to reach around me, I saw the opening and swung the weapon.

Instead of striking the beast on the shoulder, to my surprise, the blade sank itself into the chest muscles of the creature, which screamed in agony. Quickly I hauled my sword out of the wound and ducked its frantically clawing talons, its black horn twirling in every direction. The thin membranes of its wings began to pale as it thrashed and finally collapsed, unmoving, in the middle of the room. Whether it was dead I was still unsure, but it was no threat as we retreated up a ladder of shelves to a trapdoor to the Captain’s cabin.

“Sit,” Katherine ordered, pushing me onto a chair, while Danielle barricaded us in. “You say Mr Porter told you not to let me out, whatever it takes?”

I nodded.

“Whatever for? My fencing has vastly improved,” she protested. “Surely he knows I have been practicing since we last fenced! Sometimes I think he is just over bearing.”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I was but following his instructions.”

“Well, I’ll forgive you. I will speak with him later,” she sighed. “Never mind about it. I trust you have your notebook and pen with you?"

I felt my pockets. All were empty. “Alas! I have not brought it with me,” I frowned. Danielle smiled mischievously, watching me as I fumbled. “Why do you smile?”

“You left it in the folds of your dress when you changed,” she grinned, and handed my notebook and pen back to me. “Now that you are familiar with all aboard the ship, you must also write of the bunyips’ attack. We pray it will not happen, but if the whole crew is lost, your records will remain for whoever finds the ship.”

I cringed. I prayed it would not happen too. Strangely, my thoughts drifted to Samuel, left to tell the devastating tale alone, and wondered how he was faring on the deck, confronting his greatest fears. How had he, the youngest member of the crew and most probably the weakest at the time, managed to escape the bunyips’ attack? I thought of his expression when he had ordered me inside.

“Where are the swords in this cabin, Danielle? Surely the Captain has some extras? If we could find another pair we could practice fencing one another,” Katherine said, interrupting my thoughts. I jumped up, seizing my sword and pointing it at Katherine.

“You’re not thinking of disobeying the Navigator’s orders and going out to fight, are you?” I asked in horror.

“Listen Sandra,” she said, averting my sword away from her face. “He may be called our superior, but under such circumstances, we may need all the help we can afford in driving away bunyips. Besides, my fencing skills are not half as bad as his,” she replied, appearing confident, but this time with a hint of doubt and uncertainty in her eyes.

“It seems the Captain has no extra weapons in his cabin,” Danielle interjected, dismayed. “Apparently one of us is to go to the storage cupboards and retrieve some armour. Or at least some shields and swords for the rest. Perhaps Sandra and I will go to collect them?”

I nodded. Slowly we drew back the trapdoor and peeked out. Strangely the motionless bunyip had vanished without a trace, save for the shattered pieces of glass around the broken window frame. Together we salvaged the swords and shields without any further encounters of trouble, with Katherine complaining in her loud and high voice from the Captain’s cabin, only shutting off the stream of whingeing when Danielle accidentally struck her cheek with the flat of a shield. At least, I thought it to be accidental. Either way, our ears were spared.

No sooner had we loaded the weapons into the cabin than Katherine hauled me to my feet and thrust a sword and shield into my arms. “Your writing is finished? Then practice your defending with a shield. Come!” she flung a blow towards me just as I caught hold of the tools. Throwing my shield up, I saved myself from a large cut across the arm, but there was no time to lose as the onslaught of strikes came at me thick and fast.

My arms felt like lead in their sockets, dragging heavily at my shoulders from tiredness. I had tried to ignore it, but it began to show in my performance during the fight. Noticing, Katherine sparred with Danielle while allowing me to rest in an effort to recover and regain a little strength. I watched them intently, trying to commit strategies to memory which could save me injury in future.

Suddenly the clamour raging on deck fell into a hush, and a few moments later Danielle and I removed the barricade in response to the Captain’s persistent bangs. He sauntered in, followed by the remainder of the crew before he spoke. “They have withdrawn for the time being, but neither side has suffered any losses. When they next attack us – Samuel has told me they are not finished and will return, if their strategy is the same as before.” His face was grim, his brow etched in concentration. “I still have no explanation for the absence of losses.”

“It’s almost as if they were testing us… or our skill,” Leonard said, breaking the silence. “I think it is likely they will attack again the same way if they were… victorious… before. The question is, how long will this interim last? How long until they next attack? They retreated without loss or injury – it could mean we weren’t worth the effort, they found better prey, or they are summoning reinforcements.”

“The last,” Samuel said quietly. When all eyes turned to him, he elaborated to explain his answer. “When my first crew was taken, I heard a bunyip hiss to another that they had waited long ages for a ship to blunder into their territory. They said the taste of human flesh is beyond all else,” he shuddered.

“We must put on our armour, all of us. No time should be wasted if we know not of when they will strike us again. I will take first watch. Sandra, you too, I’m afraid, must also be in the battle. There is yet no known way of slaying a bunyip, but we will need all the help we can get. You will fight between Katherine and Danielle.” I nodded in reply, knowing the Captain’s command would override Samuel’s previous orders. Too late, I watched his face pale, then shake with disapproval when my eyes met his, but for no longer than a moment as he turned away to hurry after the Captain. I left for the storage rooms to be fitted with my new set of armour - if there was a set of armour for me.

Apparently my doubts were false: the armour made for me was a near perfect fit and suited me as it did every other member. In keeping with the theme of red crosses – the armour, sword and shield included – bore red crosses as their symbols. I strapped the helmet to my head, adjusting the visor for the best visibility possible, squirmed into the breastplate, and removed my belt so that it would hold the armour in place. Finally, I stepped into the boots; leather on the inside but dauntless steel without. I sheathed the sword and turned to leave, following the others back on deck to watch the sky and so the Captain also could put on his armour.

I stepped into the gloom just as the Captain and the Navigator descended, arguing. I made to follow them, but the Commander hooked the back of my mail, preventing me from doing so. “Leave them be,” he warned me. “It’s bad enough as it is. Rest for now while it lasts.” I gazed up, trying to read his expression, but could not decipher any hidden message to explain his statement. Without loosening his hold on me, I was dragged backwards to the open air pavilion, where the rest sat waiting. Crumpling into a seat, I turned to face the aft of the ship when the Lieutenant spoke. But instead of addressing someone directly, I made out the term ‘father’ from his mumbling deep voice, and I realised he was leading us in prayer. I copied everyone’s positions – hunched slightly forward, hands clasped together, eyes closed – and listened to the rest of the prayer.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

Even after the ‘amen’ was uttered; everyone remained still for a time. The Commander, Navigator and Captain, who had joined in while my eyes were shut, did likewise, and sat unmoving. I noticed the Navigator’s eyes were squeezed tightly, his back hunched far forward. Wondering at his thoughts, but knowing it would be unwise to ask him now, I slipped off to take watch for the bunyips, or until someone else came to join me.

I did not have to wait long. A few minutes later I was approached by the Navigator, who began railing at me as soon as I was within earshot. I had barely learnt that I had somehow or other done him some kind of wrong when the Captain overheard his complaints and moved to separate us, much to my relief. As I left them, dismissed, I strained my ears and walked more slowly than usual, listening. I caught only the phrases “Forgive her, Samuel, she is only young and new to our ways. Besides, we’ll need all the help we can get.” from the Captain’s voice, before they lowered their tones. I could only guess they spoke of Katherine.

It was only several hours later that the bunyips launched their second attack. In accordance with the Captain’s orders, I was positioned between Danielle and Katherine, on whose other sides stood the Lieutenant and the Navigator, who were flanked by the Captain and Commander respectively. A tight circle though it was, the close proximity of assistance provided a little relief in the tense battle.

This time we were outnumbered eleven to seven, which meant each of the men would fight two. One bunyip was trouble enough for me. I ducked and swerved, parried and lunged, using as many combinations as I could that I had learnt earlier when a voice shouted, “Shield up, Sandra!” I swung my shield skyward in time to hear a loud hiss sound from its surface. I moved as deftly as my feet would allow; though breaking position – most of us had already done so, and in my field of vision passed Samuel, his face pale, his mouth set in a hard line across it. Whether it was fear or rage I could not tell, but it was the determination blazing in his eyes that struck me. Never had I seen that look before, but a possibility crossed my mind that I considered to be somewhere close. He was fighting to protect something. Or someone.

The bunyip had seized my shield in the space of my distraction, and with the unicorn’s horn it fended off my attempts to cause it pain with my sword. Another fiery arrow shot from its tongue as I struggled, but without my shield free I twisted my head to one side, so that it fell onto the deck instead of striking me. It was a serious mistake to have made. When the arrow came in contact with the wood, the force of a small explosion erupted with a loud bang, flinging the closest three individual battlers off their feet.

Sprawled on the floor, I stabbed wildly with my sword at the claws reaching for me, tucking my legs closer to my body, but I was too late. The bunyip leaped into the air, two of its remaining feet grasping each of my legs. As it took flight I searched for what could be its weak spot when a memory of its description flashed into my mind. I swung my blade at its neck, causing it to turn and lower its head to face me, baring its teeth. In that instant, I let go of my shield, held my sword with both hands, and shoved with the little strength I had left at the white star marking between its eyes. It was enough. The creature released its grip on me, dropping my shield, shrieking in agony as it tried in vain to cover the inky spray from its forehead. I fell, heedless of direction or time, knowing only that I had at least severely injured a bunyip, as I hurtled towards the deck. Finally I was surrounded by blackness.

Sighting the Dark Shapes

“No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way so that you can stand up under it.” –1 Corinthians 10:13

 

“My parents are both dead?” Lieutenant Louis Jefferson asked; his expression deadened with shock. I nodded sadly, wishing still it were untrue. He muttered his thanks for the honest news and walked away to the wooden railing on the starboard side; the right side of the ship. Mr Porter followed him, also noticing the tears I saw gathering in his eyes. I too wanted to follow them, wanting to find some words of comfort for my cousin, but afraid he would push me away as Samuel was rejected now. The words drifted across the deck to where the cook, shipwright and I stood, unsure of what to do.

“You don’t understand, Samuel. My parents were killed – by pirates; if Sandra speaks the truth – and I was away when they needed me most,” he sighed.

“We are sent to gather in the pirates for just punishment. Will there not be greater satisfaction in capturing the ones who took the lives of your mother and father?”

“I fear they will not reach the towns alive if the same ones fall into our hands,” he mumbled.

“Come along, Sandra,” Danielle spoke suddenly, interrupting my attention to their conversation. “We’ve still to have your uniform fitted, cabin girl!”

The absence of my refusal they understood as agreement, and so I was trundled back across the deck, down a different flight of steps. It was not wide enough for three of us to walk abreast, so one walked before me and the other behind, as though still making sure the hostage could not escape. I stepped both awkwardly and carefully down the stairs - my arms still in their grip - but I could not prevent being rocked and staggered according to the sway of the ship. They held me all the more tightly when I lurched.

We entered the crew’s quarters where Leonard sat hunched over, tucked away in the corner reading a book. He looked up as we came in, but Danielle shook her head and spoke. “We’re just passing through, Commander. Don’t mind us.” He shrugged and turned back to reading. Climbing down a second flight of stairs, we arrived at the laundry of the ship – inclusive of a large washing tub and a few long lines of rope with drying linen hung on display. To the stern of the laundry was a door, and it was into this door that I was brought, utterly disoriented at this point.

It was a storage room, with a row of shelves at head level and single horizontal cupboards that could be used as benches if nothing obstructed them. Danielle opened one in search of something. Not finding it, she opened another and pulled out a neatly folded small piece of canvas, too small to be used for one of the enormous sails that hung from the mainmast. But when she held it up to let it unfold, it was longer than I had expected, and already loosely tailored to a shirt and trousers. Holding it against me, she measured only with her eyes, assessing critically.

“We will need to extend your trouser legs, but we can take that from your shirt’s length,” she stated in a business-like fashion. Swiftly and expertly she ripped the cloth across the middle, separating the shirt piece from the trousers. She held it before me, to make sure her judgement and skill had matched. When she smiled, I knew it had. Of course I was amazed; I stood there gawking at her talent the whole time. No one I knew could rip material so accurately, save the town tailor, and he needed to use scissors to begin the cut.

Meanwhile, Katherine had left my side and had unrolled a long spool of ribbon which she now laid in her lap. It was the ribbon that crossed the uniform they wore; the material Danielle worked with I now realised was devoid of it, hence Katherine would need to add the ribbon. They talked while they worked; Danielle altering and sewing, Katherine trimming and measuring.

“Know you of the bunyips that live in the seas, Sandra?”

I frowned. “I have never heard of such things. What are they like?”

“Oh, you have not seen a bunyip before? Ah, you shall be in for a surprise when you meet them. If you ever meet them,” Danielle informed me.

“Why, why are they so surprising? What do they do? What do they look like?”

“Steady with the questions, lass! We’ll get to them in time. Such creatures of the General’s creation as I have never heard of, I tell you. I must admit I myself have never seen them before with my own eyes, but from what Samuel tells us, they have six legs, as with an insect, but each leg ends in a foot of three claws – the foot of an eagle with talons to rip the flesh. They have the body of a lion, but are entirely dark in colour, save for a small white spot on their forehead. Their tail is of a lizard’s, their neck of a horse, their wings of a bat, yet they also may swim. And their head is of – of – I can’t remember, except they have the horn of a unicorn and very sharp teeth, with venom on their tongue.”

I shuddered at the description. “What a horrible creature! Where did they come from? Does anyone know?”

“No one knows for sure, Sandra,” Katherine answered. “Some believe they came from deep within the earth, others think they lived on another planet. But what they do is fearsome,” she shook her head with the fear of one who had been fed all the myths of old, mixed with added horrors accumulated with each retelling.

“The Navigator’s the only one to have seen them?”

“We’ve never asked him of it, but Captain Flint knew. Seems he was the sole survivor of the Navy’s only ship to have encountered them. He was only a boy then; imagine the horror of losing your crew to creatures of myth that turn out to be real! It must have been a terrifying experience,” Katherine explained.

“Now I’ll need you to try it on, Danielle announced, holding up the uniform for me to take. I took the trousers first, pulling off my unmentionables from beneath my skirt for modesty’s sake. Danielle grinned to herself, but I was too engrossed in being astonished at the fine handiwork which they were. The pant legs had red stripes of ribbon on the outside, and on both front and back altogether had nearly a score of pockets in various places, of assorted shapes and sizes. The belt that went with it was also red, but it was of the finest material of leather I had ever set eyes on. The buckle was of a cross – not an X but a crucifix – made of brass, shining its reflection of us. The shirt had been plain except for a left breast pocket, but next to it was a short loop of cloth suitable for sliding a pen into. On the back more ribbon had been stitched, again in the shape of a cross.

“This is for your diary, and this for you pen,” she added, smiling. I was also pleased as I inspected myself. I hugged myself in the new clothes.

“Thanks. I really like them,” I muttered, but loudly. Somehow the words didn’t even come close to the gratitude and wonder I felt in really receiving them. I couldn’t even think of a way to properly express my inadequacy at those words.

Katherine seemed not to notice my embarrassment. “It’s but part of our job also,” she answered with a carefree wave of her hand. But the tone of her voice and her smile showed a flush of pride in her work. Apparently she knew what I felt. “Let’s go show it to the Captain!”

Once again I was trundled off, out of the room, back up the stairs, passing the Commander who looked up at our entrance and nodded in approval while praising their display of handiwork. We reached the deck without a fall from me – a great improvement already – but instead of stepping out into brilliant sunlight that had warmed us not long before, we were confronted with a thick and heavy fog, shrouding out the view almost to either bow or stern from the mast. Even the crow’s nest was hidden from where we had emerged.

“I don’t like this,” Danielle said aloud, both putting out the brief rush of excitement and voicing the unease creeping into me like a fire’s flickering shadow.

When I lived on land, I enjoyed the mystery of fog, but at sea, the mist was altogether an enemy to the sailors. “How can you navigate in a fog like this?”

“We can’t,” Katherine answered. “So much for showing our Sandra off to the Captain. He’ll be all too busy with trying to decide what to do now and getting us out from here with Commander Paterson and the Navigator,” she continued, disappointed.

“Didn’t we just pass Commander Paterson below?” I asked, confused.

“By Jove, you’re right! Commander Paterson,” Danielle shouted, her voice rising. “Commander Paterson, you’re required in the Captain’s quarters,” she told him as he emerged from below. “The fog –”

“Thank you Danielle. I know. Watch from the bow, all of you, if you please,” he commanded. “And do not panic. It’s the last thing we need.” He strode quickly toward the Captain’s cabin where Samuel stood waiting.

We moved to the bowsprit, and Danielle, on my right, took the starboard side, while Katherine, on my left, took the port side of the ship. I stared in either direction at regular intervals; my view was blocked by the bowsprit. The surface of the water was barely visible below us.

Not long afterward the door of the Captain’s cabin opened, and footsteps echoed across the deck. I turned to look, but of course saw nothing but mist when Danielle plucked my arm and told me to report to whoever it was at the wheel that there was nothing either dangerous or beneficial in sight. Suddenly the deck swayed, tilting sharply to the right – an indication we were turning left. I rocked badly, but still being within Danielle’s arm length she held me steady, setting my feet right to align with gravity. I nodded and stumbled off as the deck slowly righted itself.

Lieutenant Jefferson was at the wheel, his expression grim. I hesitated, but when he saw me, he nodded. “What brings you here, Sandra?”

“Nothing,” I answered. “Therefore I came to report that there is nothing to be seen in this weather but this mystic fog which obscures all else,” I said, trying to joke and cheer him up, but it backfired.

“Know what it is that hangs from the bowsprit, Sandra?” His face was unreadable.

I shook my head.

“It is an angel; sword and shield poised for battle, with wings outstretched. But do you know why?”

Again I shook my head, feeling foolish and ignorant.

“We like to think it’s there to safeguard us in times like this or times of war, but more because angels will come to our aid if we only call for their assistance. Similarly the dragon which becomes the crow’s nest helps in keeping watch for danger. But if my feelings are right, we may be turning toward danger, instead of away from it. There is no way of telling in this fog. Have you been taught to fence?”

I was stunned. “Girls aren’t taught to fence, even if their cousins joined the navy!” I exclaimed. “No sir,” I finished awkwardly, realising my exclamation could have offended him.

He seemed even more taken aback. “How can you join the navy  without knowing how to fence? Commander,” he called as Leonard stepped out of the Captain’s cabin. “It seems our cabin girl here is in need of a few fencing lessons. Will you teach her?”

“Perhaps you should,” the Commander replied, moving forward to take the wheel.

“Yes sir,” Louis answered, after a brief moment’s hesitation. “Wait on deck and I will return with some equipment.”

Halfway through the lesson, Mr Porter, who had been watching from a distance, came to comment on my skills and when he asked for my sword and told me to watch, I gratefully handed it to him – I was already exhausted. As he fenced with the Lieutenant, he rebuked, taught, and corrected his faults, all the while explaining to me what they both were doing. All too soon one fight would finish with the Navigator's sword pointing at the Lieutenant's throat, or at his heart, or with Louis sprawled on the floor, or defenceless with his sword five strides behind his opponent. Finally, Lieutenant Jefferson cried out in exasperation. "I've had enough! Are we not trying to teach Sandra here?"

“Oh, but we are,” Samuel told him, grinning. “She’ll be learning to copy you. Or I. Your turn, Sandra. Try to injure me in any way,” he said, handing me Louis’ sword.

“Watch him carefully, Sandra. He’s the best of all of us,” my cousin warned.

Having rested long enough, I picked up the sword and faced my new opponent. He began slowly, then built up speed, until he eventually stopped talking altogether. My confidence grew, and defence or attack combinations became blurred as our swords clashed rapidly now. Suddenly I saw an opening and aimed for it with the flat of the blade. To my surprise, I struck him squarely, to find the colour had drained from his face as he stared over my shoulders, motionless.

I spun around and saw it – then screamed.

Hovering just off the port side, it was exactly as Katherine had described – with the head of a wolf.

 

 

A Golden Discovery for a Pirate Crew

“Formerly, when you did not know God, you were slaves to those who by nature are not gods.” – Galatians 4:8

 

“Princess!” Someone shouted. Lydia groaned. Pouring the remains of the meal onto the fire with a loud hiss, she got up from the fallen log, following the persistent call. Reaching her captors, she scanned their faces for the moods they could be in. Surprisingly, they all seemed to be excited about something.

“Princess! There ye are. Just the one we need to git the booty! See that house?” Captain Elizabeth Jacobs was pointing up the deserted street to a lodging with the front gate open but door closed. She nodded carefully, unsure of what the self-proclaimed Captain Jacobs, who owned nothing but a useless imagination and an imaginary ship, wanted her to do. “Bring out everything of value. If anyone sees what ye are doing, they’re not to escape.”

Lydia drew in a sharp breath. They wanted her to steal from people she had not even met? Not only that, they wanted her to make sure no one escaped? She trembled at the horrible thoughts.

“Perhaps it would be best if you simply burn the place when you collect all valuables. That way we would not leave evidence behind, and all we would leave behind is what would have looked like a house fire,” Kenneth Taylor suggested to Elizabeth. Lydia’s eyes widened in shock. How could she burn an innocent family’s home? Dead or not, they still deserved better than to have their house transformed to a forlorn heap of ashes.

“No you fool! We need a place to stay, Kenneth! Besides, know ye what happens to innocent people whose houses are destroyed with no reason?” the Quartermaster Henry Anderson interrupted First Mate Taylor, barging into the midst of Lydia’s thoughts. Kenneth glared at him in resentment, but kept silent before the younger man, who ignored his looks and continued with his mythic reasoning. “They track down the ones who burn the place and haunt them for the rest of their miserable lives, reminding them of what they did.” Kenneth turned away, but his back stiffened visibly.

Oh please, spare me of this terrible deed, Lydia prayed mentally, shivering at his tale. I never intended to make anyone homeless when I pleaded for the pirates to spare my life! Oh, why did I let myself fall into this mess?

“Why not we move in, Captain?” Leading Rating Olivia Harrison suggested. “Since we are in need of a place to stay, and I doubt any of the locals would let us into their home, knowing what we’ve done. The house is now vacant, ain’t it? Nor will we needs remove items of value to drag with us into the forest.”

“I knew ye would be of use, Harrison!” Lydia breathed a sigh of relief. “Then when we finds our own ship, we can burn the house.” Lydia exhaled sharply. “Will ye be silent, wretched slave!” Captain Jacobs snapped. “Go check that none are in sight nor in the house. Get out of me sights!”

Lydia fled from her captor’s wrath. She hated what she had become, what her life had become. She cursed her vow which had spared her from death but earned her a lifetime of slavery. It was terrifying to live at the beck and call of others, and for anyone’s welfare to depend on the moods of people who had total control over one’s life. She was tired of it, but at the same time, afraid. And not to do their bidding was unthinkable. She scratched at the bands of cloth around her wrists – the symbol of her slavery. There were two more around her ankles – the dreadful chains that forced her to do what she detested to do. If not for the invincible power they possessed she would have taken her own life long ago. Instead they prevented her from doing so; each time her captors discovered her attempts she had been sorely punished both physically by the hateful bands of cloth and verbally by her owners.

She shuddered at the memory. It had been the first and final time she had ever defied them. When she had stood her ground against their command, a searing coldness had spread throughout her body, but instead of numbing her ability to feel, it had caused it to grow more acute. Freezing thorns stabbed at her nerves as the blood pulsed through her arms and legs, forcing her onto her knees. Her muscles had jerked in chaos, as though pleading for release until the magic had reached her lungs and heart, which struggled wildly to beat as her throat began to close while she lay gasping for air. It was then that she had cried for mercy.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she stepped cautiously into the hallway of the abandoned house. No sound reached her ears save the noise of her own footsteps. It was an elaborately furnished house – the table was beautifully decorated, its style matching the surrounding sofas, the fabric of the cushions the same as the curtains and wallpaper. Expensive paintings hung upon the walls between wall lamps of gold as she crept between the rooms stuffed to the ceiling with belongings. One opened to a library crammed with bookshelves full of dusty volumes, another two to bedrooms strewn with all sorts of luxuries. The bathroom was the finest she had ever laid eyes on. It would truly be a pity to set this house alight. The family who lived here must have been incredibly wealthy.
                The floorboard creaked. Lydia stopped dead in her tracks, straining her ears for the slightest breath. No sound came. She shifted her weight, and the floor creaked again. It had been she who caused the noise! She heaved a sigh of relief and turned to leave, having seen all she needed.

The Leading Rating Harrison stood waiting for her at the edge of the forest. “Hurry, Kingsley! Ye took almost an eternity, and the others have left to explore the forest,” she shouted with displeasure. As soon as Lydia had caught up with her, she turned and led her deeper into the dense bushland. “Well, what did ye finds?”

Lydia reported her findings as they walked. Olivia seemed impressed, but didn’t slow her pace until the others were in sight. But before she could call out to them, Quartermaster Anderson turned and saw them, “Come quickly, ye stragglers,” he shouted, although he seemed to be attempting a loud whisper. “Kenneth discovered a priceless treasure!”

“That’s First Mate Taylor to you, Anderson,” Kenneth growled, unpleasant. “Look out to the beach,” he instructed the newcomers. Henry Anderson turned away to mockingly mimic the First Mate as Lydia and Olivia squinted through the cover of trees to the coast. Sure enough, there was the Treasure Trove, lazing quietly in the sun.

“That’s right – our latest find, thanks to Kenneth,” Captain Jacobs stated, her broad grin stretching from eye to eye. “If all goes well, she shall be ours by dawn tomorrow. Enough of that, Henry,” Elizabeth hissed, having spotted him making his thoughts into disrespectful actions, regardless of anyone watching. The Quartermaster stopped it at once.

“Why? How do you intend to claim possession of the cutter?” Olivia questioned. It would be the first time she attempted to steal a craft, even one as small as this. She wondered if the others had any real experience before this. Her expertise was in kidnap.

“I shall explain the details at the house. It were empty, were it not, Princess?” Lydia nodded obediently. “Good. Let us return to our new lodging. Lydia, stay and guard the ship.”

Lydia opened her mouth to object, but instead she asked the question really on her mind. “What of the owners? Will you take them with you too or will you let them go if they do not appear?”

Elizabeth and Kenneth both cackled menacingly. “We could always do with a few more slaves,” Elizabeth said. “Speaking of slaves, where be the girl whose Aunt and Uncle we killed this afternoon? Harrison!”

“She’s gone,” Olivia replied, her face pale before the Captain. “I swear, I tied her securely as any other –”

Elizabeth’s slap cut her off. “You fool! Now the whole town will know we are in the forest! We shall be clapped in irons the moment we lay our heads down to rest. Harrison, salvage what you can with Lydia from the house and meet us back here as soon as you can. Kenneth, Henry and I will spy on the ship, to see if we can discover its weakness and how we can claim it.”

With Lydia and Olivia gone, - Olivia still smarting from the slap – the trio moved to better vantage points from where they could clearly view The Treasure Trove and all who might come and go.

They did not have long to wait as early evening turned to fiery dusk; red, orange and blue crawling across the sky above the sea. Henry Anderson was restless as he waited, impatient to lay his hands on their new treasure. He almost thought the craft was abandoned until two women with packs on their backs emerged from the forest before it. The first scrambled up the gangplank while the second laid down her pack and began to untie the rope which attached the boat to the tree on the shore. Henry understood at once – they were about to set sail.

Jumping from their hiding places but landing on their knees, the trio scrambled toward the pair of unsuspecting explorers as quickly as their stiff legs would permit them to move.

Victoria had just stepped ashore to collect her friend’s pack when she glimpsed a dark object glinting shine in the dying sunlight. But before she could reach either Caroline or her explorer’s axe, two men and a woman stepped into plain view, each holding a pistol pointing straight at the two of them. Judging from appearance, they were pirates.

“Put yon weapons on the ground,” one of the men said, motioning to their axes with his free hand. Caroline turned around to look at Victoria, and in that instant the other man who stood closest to her took a flying leap at her, knocking her off her feet. She fell, and the next thing she understood as the sky appeared in front of her was that she had landed on her back when something had knocked hard against her shoulder, causing her to lose her balance. She made to rise but the form of a man strode into her view, towering above her as she looked up at him, his pistol cocked at the ready, aiming at her.

“Put yon weapon down,” the woman called to Victoria again. “If ye does as we says, neither of you will get hurt. Quickly, we don’t have all evening!”

Victoria drew out her axe and laid it on the sand, knowing resistance would be useless. The two men collected the axes and the woman dragged the pair of explorers aboard their own boat. As soon as the new prisoners were bound hand and foot, the pirates commenced the interrogation.

“Who be the owner of this cutter?”

“I am?” Caroline answered shakily, wondering if, now that pirates had arrived it still was.

“That is incorrect! Captain Jacobs be the owner,” the woman shouted. “Say it!”

“Captain Jacobs is the owner,” the two repeated, full of fear.

“What be ye business aboard?”

To sail and explore the forest coast?” Victoria tried, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Wrong once more! Ye will do as we command,” the man who had been called First Mate rebuked them. “Repeat that also!”

“You will do as we command,” they chorused, automatically now.

“No, you fools! Ye will do as we command,” the other man yelled, bringing his fist onto the table with a bang. The two nearly jumped in fright, despite their lashings.

“We-we will d-do as y-you com-m-and,” they stuttered together.

A young girl stumbled into the cabin, her arms full of exquisite items. Behind her shuffled a woman whose face seemed more wrinkled than usual for one of her age, likewise bearing numerous precious valuables. Both also bore sacks filled with delicious food, judging from the aroma which wafted through the cabin from them.

“Harrison! Kingsley! Finally ye be here. We need ye to put these two new slaves in chains,” Captain Jacobs said.

“Won’t you let us go? Why must we be your slaves? We did nothing to provoke you to piracy –” the look from Captain Jacobs stopped her as she spoke.

“We only promised that neither of you would get hurt, and you are unharmed now,” Quartermaster Anderson mocked. “As for your provocation, you owned a boat too tempting for us to resist. Therefore you will be our slaves. We were in need of a few more, anyway,” he stated, glancing over his shoulder at Kingsley.

“And now we has the two of ye,” Harrison smiled, tearing off bands of cloth and draping them over her prisoners’ ankles and wrists. She wrapped her hands around one band of cloth so that the ends met, and mumbled some strange sounds, squeezing the limb until the blood stopped flowing and the victim cried out in pain. She repeated the process until all of their limbs were wrapped with the cloths.

“Now, repeat exactly as I say. As a slave, I am bound to my owner Olivia Harrison and the members of her crew and will fulfil their every wish.”

They repeated only because of the pistols pointing at them, forcing them to do so.

The loosened strips of cloth tightened around them, then hardened. Lydia buried her face in her hands.

 

 

 

All aboard The Rangercraft

“If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” –2 Corinthians 5:17

 

After the evening meal, the Captain summoned me to his cabin. He invited me to sit in a most comfortable-looking armchair in front of his desk, and advised me to relax; I was not in trouble. When we were both settled, he smiled at me and spoke. “Sandra,” he began with only an ounce of uncertainty. “Tell me, what would you do if you were to come across the same pirates who killed your Aunt and Uncle?”

So unprepared was I for this question that I actually gaped at him, thinking the answer was obvious. Could there be a greater justice than judging them and delivering the sentence with my own hands? My heart shouted an eye for an eye, but my mind warned me of a test hidden with the Captain’s question. “I do not know,” I said truthfully, unsure of his expectations. “I would capture them and see for myself that justice is dealt to them for the cries they have committed against my cousin and I.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Even if it means taking the law into your own hands?”

I bit my lip. “I don’t want to discuss this,” I replied, not answering his question.

He nodded in understanding. “As your Captain, however, I am obliged to teach you the morals and values of the Navy; one of which is forgiveness of wrongdoers,” he persisted. “But don’t misunderstand me: forgiveness is not the same as condoning one’s sins, forgiveness is acknowledging one’s wrong and not holding it against them, whether or not justice is carried out, whereas condoning is to say it is right when it is not. So I ask you to forgive, Sandra. Let it pass by you, and the consequential repercussions will not come near to you. The closer you hold their crimes to your heart, the longer and deeper your wound will burn, until your heart is no more a heart of flesh, but of stone, and I dread to see that day come upon you. Forgive and forget, and seize the time of today instead.”

He cleared his throat, changing his pleading tone with one for official statements. “Now that you are cabin boy of The Rangercraft, you will take orders from all members of the crew, myself first and foremost of course. You are to report to me each week on what you have achieved in assisting whoever has asked for you help. However,” here he paused while I nodded vigorously, provoking his ticklish laughter. “You look like a stray flap of canvas in rough weather. Then I take it that I am understood. However, they will not be your main task. Knowing your uncle, he would have wished that you pursue or, in the very least, continue your education. That is the reason I have assigned you to keeping a log book – in your case a cabin boy’s log book – and in so doing you are to record the significant and insignificant events which may occur during our voyage. You are also to include who you encounter along the way; in fact, that may well be your starting block.” He drew a breath. “Any further questions?”

“Will this log book be read by anyone other than myself?” I asked.

“Of course! I cannot bear the thought of your uncle allowing your spelling and grammar mistakes to go unchecked! Perhaps you could interview the crew while they are off duty. And these will be yours.” He handed me a beautifully leather bound book along with a fresh pen filled to the tip with blue ink. “Basic requirements.”

I smiled, thanking him as he dismissed me and I left the room, pleased with my assignment. The book was the perfect size for a pocket, and the pen fitted neatly in beside the book. Eagerly I opened it to give the pages a riffle, to find that they were the highest quality of paper to have ever entered my grasp. How had Captain known I loved to write?

Before I arrived at the sleeping quarters, I was stopped by a young gentleman nearly entering his early adulthood, who sat me down at one of the round dining tables in the mess hall. “Allow me to formally welcome you aboard The Rangercraft, now that you have been accepted as a member of the crew,” he said, taking my hand and shaking it. “Welcome aboard, Sandra.” He released me. “Has the Captain spoken to you yet?” I nodded. “You may want to record who I am, so that if you do forget all about me, you can always refer to my profile.”

 “Surely I’ll not forget all about you, sir!” I protested, yet my hand reached for the book and the pen, opening to the first page. “What is your name, if I may so ask?”

“I am Leonard Paterson, Commander of The Rangercraft. My role is to assist the captain in his times of need, to supervise the crew and ensure they are performing the tasks they have been assigned, and when rough winds hit us I announce and carry out the orders. Are you with me?”

I nodded, my pen scribbling furiously but legibly across the page. He smiled. “Have you any other questions of me?” he asked, grinning.

“I do, in fact,” I answered. “How did you come to be aboard The Rangercraft?”

“Ah. Excellent question. I joined His Majesty’s Navy when I was the age you are now, but I was aboard another ship at first. Years passed. I advanced in the ranks. My ship grew and when we arrived in the port of the spice islands, I offered to disembark to ease the load on my old captain. I settled down in the town, fixing tack of worn ships without thinking twice about the notice for hands wanted aboard this craft, put up not long after I had arrived, but finally I came to my senses and asked about what positions needed filling. And here I am some months later. Satisfied?”

“Very,” I replied, nodding vigorously. “Thank you for your time.”

“No worries,” he grinned, arising to leave. “Glad to be of help.”

I got up to return to the bunks when there was a shout from the kitchen. Turning, I saw a young woman of about the same age as Leonard, smiling at me over the book she was reading. She beckoned me over, and I walked to sit beside her.

“You liked the food today, Sandra?”

“Very much so. I enjoyed all the dishes – I tried everything too,” I added.

Her smile broadened. “I cooked them all.”

I gasped. “How can that be? They were all such exquisitely fine dishes and must have taken an hour to prepare each at least! I cannot believe you made them all,” I blurted out without thinking – my worst fault.

She smiled, however, taking my statement as a compliment. “An hour turns to a few minutes with experience under one’s belt,” she replied proudly. “Even assistance becomes unnecessary after a while.”

I gawked in wonder, amazed at the talent and skill she must possess. Then I shrugged. “I guess you’ll not need my help when it comes to preparing a meal, then,” I mumbled to the tabletop, but smiling inwardly.

“You never know,” she replied. “An extra pair of hands can always come in handy when it comes to preparing a meal. Or cleaning up,” she added, raising her eyebrows briefly.

I almost opened my mouth to groan in protest, but stopped just in time. “I already have an assignment from the Captain,” I stuttered, aimlessly riffling the pages of my new notebook. “I’ve been instructed to learn about everyone and record my own events,” I muttered to the floor. “Not to mention the people I meet aboard the ship.”

“Didn’t I introduce myself?” She made an embarrassed face. “I am Katherine, and my family name is the same as my task aboard this craft, which should be no surprise at all,” she smiled. “Would you like me to give you rough introductions to the crew?”

“Please, do,” I begged, feeling somewhat sheepish. Nothing was more awkward than not knowing the people around you. “Clearly I know the Captain, and Mr Leonard Paterson has only just introduced himself to me, apart from yourself,” I informed her.

“Indeed, that is half our crew already, and now I need only introduce you to but the lieutenant, the shipwright, and the navigator. The mister Leonard Paterson has already introduced himself to you, so you say? He is the commander of this craft, modest though he sounds,” she told me.

“Which ranks are higher?” I asked, my mind buzzing with the new information. “I know naught but the basics of the navy; I am only a typical land lubber.” Suddenly I grew doubtful. Was it appropriate to ask such a question to the cook? Would she be offended by the remark? My gaze shifted uncomfortably to the wooden floor. An awkward silence followed, and, self conscious, I hesitated before looking up again.

To my surprise, the expression she bore conveyed not one of pain or disgust, but of surprise and a stifled smirk. “You look so charming when you’re shy,” she said, smiling. “Does she not look delightful to you, Danielle?”

“She does indeed,” replied the new voice beside the cook, also smiling. It was a voice that reminded me of a mouse squeaking; fitting for the small size Danielle was.

“This, Sandra, is Danielle Smith, the shipwright of The Rangercraft,” Katherine said. “And in answer to your previous question concerning which ranks are higher, my answer is this: in this Navy, every rank is equal; every person just as valuable as each other. The names of ranks are nothing more than titles; each role is just as necessary as any other. No one is looked upon with favour by anyone, nor are they looked down upon by others. That, at least, is what we hope to achieve.” Danielle nodded in agreement – a timid, but unmistakable movement.

“Pleased to meet you, Sandra,” she said in a small high pitch. The only mouse-like characteristic she lacked was the two front teeth, and even then, her incisors were still somewhat similar. “Have you met everyone?”

“Not yet, I answered. “I was told I have yet to meet the Lieutenant and the Navigator.”

“Well, the Lieutenant will find time to introduce himself to you,” Katherine cut in, winking secretively to Danielle. “You had best greet the Navigator, though. Come on, Sandra!” The pair stood up to leave the table. “Let’s go see him now!”

I stood with them, grateful for their welcoming nature and companionship. I felt better when I had friends by my side. Suddenly my arms were caught up either side of me and I was propelled up the stairs onto the deck, the sunlight blinding me.

“Is he on deck or not?” I heard Danielle ask Katherine. “I can’t see him yet.”

“I see him. He’s at the crow’s nest. Samuel!” Katherine shouted. “Samuel! We’ve brought you a hostage! Come and see!”

I shut my eyes, terrified. My mind flashed back to the long hours I had spent against the trunk of a tree the previous morning. Had I fallen out of the frying pan into the fire? What if this was really a pirate ship in disguise? Pirates of suitable crews tended to favour Brigantines, so I had heard. I grew more and more afraid with each creak of the rope as he clambered skilfully downward to inspect me. It was all I could do to stay and fight the instincts which screamed at me to run, heedless of the fact that escape would have been impossible anyway. Slowly his shoes clicked against the wooden floorboards until they stopped just ahead of me.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I whispered feverishly. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to–” I stopped when I realised Katherine and Danielle were shaking beside me from ill-restrained laughter. Finally the sound exploded around me – a soft giggle from Danielle, a woman’s hearty laughter from Katherine and a loud and raucous sound from the man called Samuel.

“You should see your face,” Samuel chuckled as I slowly opened my eyes. “You look so afraid. Honestly, you could have been a real hostage. But what could we ransom you for? Let me see…” he looked me up and down, and I recoiled, self-conscious. “You could do for a slave,” but I shook my head as hard as I could. “Or you could wash our dishes for us, or scrub the deck spotless –”

“Please, no,” I begged, dropping to my knees.

“Maybe you could do all our hard labour for us! You seem sufficiently fit.”

“No, please, no,” I protested, now on all fours, face to the ground.

“He is jesting, Sandra. No one’s going to force you to do anything unless it is absolutely necessary. Get up, cabin boy. Or are you the cabin girl?”

I got up. Burying my face in Danielle’s shoulder, I was so embarrassed. My mouth fell open, but instead of some mumblings and mutterings, a series of groans and whines emitted from my throat. Samuel laughed all the harder.

Katherine scolded him. “Look at what you’ve done to Sandra! Look at her! Be you really so cruel as to toy with her feelings now? She is but a child, and still you mock her. Shame on you, Mr Porter.”

His rolling laughter paused. “Who was it who called me to examine a new hostage?” She fell silent, my groans and whines the only noises for a few moments. “Lo, be you really crying? It was a joke, Sandra. Are you always as serious as this? What a pitiful life you must have had before you joined us,” Mr Porter commented.

I stopped groaning. In my mind’s eye I saw my Aunt’s stunned face, frozen in death, and my Uncle’s body, twitching and writhing in pain. Tears sprung anew from my eyes and I began dampening Danielle’s shoulder. Katherine gasped and recommenced berating Samuel yet again. I barely heard his protestations.

“What’s this?” An unfamiliar voice questioned. It seemed I had been too preoccupied with my weeping to notice his approach. “Picking on the youngster already, are we? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. You especially, Mr Porter.”

I heard his protesting begin again. “Lieutenant, I merely mentioned the life she had before joining us, and she burst into tears,” he defended. “How would I have known that would have started her off?”

“My Aunt and Uncle were killed before my eyes!” Finally I looked up at the newcomer’s face.

I gasped in surprise. “You’re with us now,” my cousin answered, laying a hand on my shoulder.

 

The Archaeologist’s Findings

“‘The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.” –Matthew 13:44

 

“Are you sure it was around here? This place looks unfamiliar to me.”

“I’m absolutely certain. And you would not recognise this area because you have not been here before,” Caroline Jones reminded her good friend.

Victoria Freeman nodded. “True, true. Now, can you remind me what exactly it is we are looking for?”

“How many times have I told you? We are seeking traces of a mysterious civilisation that exists only in legends of old!!”

“In other words, we search for something that may not even be real, then. But what made you think it exists?”

“That!” Caroline stood up on the dusty deck of their light cutter and pointed into the forest. Victoria turned her head.

“What? I see noth…” her sentence remained unfinished as she stared at the ruined structures of stone and some of precious metals. Though only in ruins, they displayed evidence of incredible technology from some ancient times, with a number of vertical columns still standing upright. Visible only from the coastline, at that particular angle, it was no surprise that none had found it before Caroline had. She is a very fortunate archaeologist, my friend, Victoria thought to herself. She just happened to be passing by and managed to take notice of the ruins. Otherwise she would have missed it altogether!

“Have you cooked our lunch?” Caroline’s words cut through her friend’s thoughts as she threw various items into two large and seemingly misshapen rucksacks.

“No, I thought it was your turn to cook lunch! I had to scrub the floor yesterday, didn’t I? And planned for today’s expedition–”
                “My turn!?! Who’s been cooking the meals for the past week?” Caroline Jones shouted back to the forensic investigator. The friendly banter continued back and forth until finally a decision was reached between them.

“Very well then! I’ll make sandwiches for lunch and you can finish off our packing,” Victoria surrendered as she descended the stairs into the cabin below the deck.

“About time too!” Caroline called after her, giggling.

Victoria flung a nearby cushion and received an irritated reply.

The cabin was about half the size of a small drawing room, the interior narrowed and stretched. The stairs from the deck opened to a small but cosy mess hall, containing little more than two armchairs side by side, a small table and a pair of lanterns. A large stuffed sack sat bulging between the armchair and the table. Beyond the crammed drawing room was the dormitory, consisting of two beds hidden from direct view by the depth of the wardrobe – one on either side of the passageway. Aft of the dormitory was the bathroom and lavatory.

But it was to the fore of the craft that Victoria moved to. The kitchen, with its stove and chimney, was complete with storage shelves and dining table. Hastily the young woman made four sandwiches on the table, her deft fingers nimbly arranging the ingredients onto the slices of bread. When she had finished, she rapidly wrapped them and swept them into her hand.

“Here, these are yours. Don’t eat them now! They are for lunch,” Victoria interrupted as Caroline licked her lips and tried to sneak a bite. The smile disappeared from her face, but she obeyed and added them to the pair of overstretched packs.

“Let us hence!” Caroline exclaimed, jumping up. “All is ready at this moment; we are anchored and our tack is prepared. Only half the crew is present… where is she?” She lowered the stern ladder after she shouldered her bag, in time to see her cabin mate brandishing a single headed axe and bearing another in her belt striding towards her. “Where did you get them from?” Caroline asked, amazed.

“Do not ask, nor misuse. They are to be used only for working and as tools,” the forensic specialist replied, handing her one, handle first. “I knew they were for us the moment I laid eyes on them.”

After they had disembarked, Caroline studied the axe in greater detail. It was bladed on one side; wide and sharp, its colour a shining silver sparkling in the sunlight. On the other side was a pick, perfect for climbing rock faces, digging up artefacts and whatever else she could think of. To her, it was a perfect explorer’s all-in-one, and she was in love with it.

She swung it, and branches fell before her, cut neatly through the wood. Victoria must have sharpened them beforehand. They walked on, leaving a trail of carnage behind them; they had eyes only on their goal.

It was high noon when they came upon the first signs of the ruined city. Caroline had been having such a good time wielding her axe that she was almost disappointed when the trees opened out before her in a perfect row, when she realised they were all apple trees, the branches laden with apples, and there were row after row of them. They had entered an orchard. She ran through the orchard, her energy renewed upon her discovery, yelling to no one in particular, “I found it! I found it!”

After a brief lunch of apples, apples and more apples, the pair took to exploring the area they had entered. It was, or rather had been, an undoubtedly large city, large and important enough to be a city of great influence. (They had stumbled upon the outskirts first, as one would normally expect.) But what was amazing was the way the city had been designed.

The outskirts were comprised of various farms – orchards, vineyards, wheat fields and pastures slowly being overtaken by the forest vegetation, as though its regeneration was to claim back its lost time. As the two explorers travelled deeper into the remains of the ancient civilisation, the ruins of small buildings, presumably houses, occurred more frequently and closer together. The paths changed from gravel to cobblestone. Remnants of pillars at regular intervals suggested columns and archways had once lined the roads. The entire city had been constructed on flat land, and as they walked on, higher and thicker wall traces widened the gaps between the roads.

The pair treaded cautiously among the time-defeated rubble, and as Caroline examined the fragments of pottery scattered within the buildings, Victoria’s skin crawled. “Do you get the feeling someone’s watching us?” she whispered.

“No,” answered the archaeologist, turning over the broken jar in their hands. “This place is fascinating… I wonder how long ago they made these…”

“I should have known you would be so interested. You wouldn’t notice a thing if a dozen guns pointed straight at you,” Victoria muttered to herself. She glanced around them in all directions – as though it would reveal hidden assailants – but she saw no one. They were alone in the deserted vicinity. Silently she berated herself and tried to ignore the eerie paranoia, when she heard Caroline calling to her.

“Victoria! Come and look at this! I found something really very interesting!”

She hurried over to where her companion stood bending over some unseen discovery, to find a freshly exposed underground entrance in one of the buildings. A pile of rocks had been used to cover the large hole, but it was an unmistakable secret chamber. Together they shifted there rocks to reveal a flight of stairs leading into the darkness. Remains of a torch hung beside the steps.

“Don’t let’s go down there,” Victoria protested, but Caroline had already begun her descent. Victoria frowned but hurried after her enthusiastic friend.

They were inside a tunnel; its walls made of compacted mud lined with loose layers of rocks. The two friends ventured aimlessly through, and the further they walked, the more uneasy Victoria began to feel. The surroundings would have been suspicious enough by a decent torchlight, but by the feeble circumference of a flickering flame, the underground was all the more eerie the deeper they explored.

Strange markings began appearing on the walls. Holes in the rocks became more and more common. Parts of the ceiling looked as though they had caved in. The floor grew to be littered with larger and larger objects half buried in the dirt. But, of course, Caroline was too concerned with reaching the end of the tunnel when the sound of sliding dust followed shortly by a scream behind her captured her attention.

Swiftly she spun in the direction of the sound, to find her companion nowhere in sight but instead that the wall had collapsed in upon itself, revealing a huge black hole into which the light of the torch was swallowed.

“Victoria!”

There were a series of unidentified sounds as Caroline edged closer to the opening.

“Victoria!” Her voice echoed timidly in the darkness.

More unhuman noises returned in reply, this time, she recognised as unfamiliar objects being displaced. As the sounds continued, a painful groan reached Caroline’s ears, mixed with a strange metallic clinking. Tentatively she crept forward, into the previously hidden chamber, the light crawling forward at a frustratingly slow pace. Something on the edge of the rim of light caught her attention – the small sole of Victoria’s boot lay just ahead of her, indicating she was half buried beneath a mound of –

“Gold! You’ve made us millionaires, Victoria!” she scrambled to free her trapped companion, remarking, “If I hadn’t thought to ask you, we wouldn’t have found this place.” Her babbling paused when she was finished. “Are you okay?” She extended her hand to her friend. “Let me help you up. No injuries anywhere?”

Victoria shook her head weakly. “None, except a thousand bruises from head to toe,” she added, taking Caroline’s hand. “This gold must be quite valuable – it feels heavy enough when you’re buried in it.”

They examined the golden articles more closely now. “This would have been from at least the medieval times, judging from the quality and make of those items. Look at this goblet; it’s so well-crafted, it even has inlays of rubies and sapphires.”

“And look at this bowl, with the geometric patterns carved so delicately into the rim. I’d give all of this gold–”

“You’d give ALL of THIS gold! Are you crazy? Caroline blurted out, shocked at her friend’s words.

“Oh, just interrupt my sentence without letting me finish, then,” Victoria muttered, annoyed. “I was just about to say I’d give all of this gold that we have found the city’s treasury. This could have been where all their wealth was hidden. Considering the amount of gold alone, it would be enough to have come from the taxes the residents would have paid in those days. I’ll say had I not fallen in and buried myself in the pile, it was probably stacked neatly in little columns before the wall gave way. If this really is the treasury, as opposed to a pirate’s cave, how much silver and precious stones would be lying around in here in addition to the gold they could afford?”

Caroline’s eyes flashed wild with excitement. Hauling Victoria upright, she started deeper into the darkness of the cavern, the torch light illuminating the dusty floor. They walked in a zigzag pattern across the width, so as not to miss the tiniest clue. Soon enough they reached the back.

What they found was nothing they had expected. On its discovery, the pair of innocent explorers backed away, heading for the entrance and running for broad daylight as fast as they could. Relief slowly overcame their brief horror and fear as they reached the stairs and the relative safety of the city’s surface.

For not so deep underground, instead of finding more valuable metals, stones and other treasures, they had found a line of skeletons, each with the bones unmoved. Spines leant against the stone wall, sitting with legs and arms outstretched toward the chamber’s entrance, rusted chains still joining the ankles to the corpses of their neighbours.

Skulls had leaned forward, empty eye sockets staring after the living, teeth and jaws far enough apart for the mouths to be agape. All in a uniformed direction.

What it was they were calling would remain an eternal mystery.

How I came to be aboard The Rangercraft

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord. ‘Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.’” –Jeremiah 29:11

It wasn’t fair! There was no reason why I had to return so soon! It was usually at times like this that I wished… but it would never come to pass. I snatched up my journal from beneath my pillow and the pen next to it before running out onto the road in the warm morning sun. I could no longer hear my Aunt and Uncle calling me from the house – I had reached the forest at the end of the road. Looking around me, I found the enormous fallen tree trunk with the footholds on the side and began to climb.

When I had reached the top, I sat down, leaning my back against a branch as I made myself comfortable. After making sure that I had not been followed, I opened the book and commenced my day’s entry.

Dear diary, I wrote, I wish I never existed. Everything seems to be my fault. This morning it was my fault that Aunt found the rats in the hallway. It was my fault that Uncle’s brother and sister-in-law had to leave the town early last night. I know that they lied to leave earlier: they had to put their children to sleep? Their children have long since been married! Surely married couples need not be sent to bed! Perhaps it were better for everyone – especially Aunt and Uncle if I had never been born. Why should I live and do nothing but cause trouble? And it too was my fault that the school nearly burst into flames.

I laid down my pen. Everything was my fault. Jumping off the log, I ventured a little deeper into the forest at the sound of my Aunt’s voice calling my name.

“Sandra Marcus! Show yourself at once! I’ve a mind to give you a good whipping when we get home! Your uncle’s in tears at his bedside praying for you this very moment, thinking that he’s to blame every time you run off into the forest. Come out this instant!”

Suddenly I saw a figure move between my Aunt and I. At first I hesitated. Should I call out and risk being seen but warn Aunt in time? Or should I stay hidden while my Aunt was in danger? But when I spotted a pistol in the stranger’s hand, my mind was made up at once.

“Aunt! Run!” I shouted, beginning to run. Too late, I saw the pistol out in a flash, take aim and fire towards my poor Aunt frozen to the spot. She would have had no idea what was going on when she died. I ran for the road, often stumbling blindly for the tears blurring my vision – I needed to warn my Uncle and everyone else in the town there were pirates roaming the forest.

I fell to the ground, having lost my balance over some tree roots. But when I got up, hands seized my arms together behind my back and when I tried to continue running more hands grabbed my ankles. I was being dragged to a tree, my struggles useless. “P-p-please don’t kill me,” I stuttered as they bound me to the trunk.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll not kill you just yet, young lass,” one of them said with an eerie laugh.

“We need naught but for you to tell us a few things,” said another. How many of them were there? My question was answered when two other faces appeared in front of me. “The first be this: Do you loves your aunt very much? Sure you do, no?”

I nodded frantically, but uncertain of their motives at the time.

“And your uncle loves her very much too, aye?”

I nodded again, still ignorant of what they were planning. There was a pause as they exchanged glances and grinned at one another. I suddenly realised they were up to no good.

“Now, we’ve but one final question to ask of you. Where do they live?”

I shook my head this time. “I cannot tell you,” I told them, striving to sound braver than I felt.

One of them cocked their pistol as my uncle strode into view. Without a second thought I shouted at him before they had a chance to stop me. “Run, Uncle!”

A shot rang out – my eyes had shut themselves involuntarily this time – and when I opened them again, he lay on the ground, groaning in pain.

“No!” I was screaming until one of the pirates gagged me. I shook my head, trying to resist, but it was fruitless. Tears flowed anew and as the murderers left, one called back, “Don’t go far, girl, we’ll be back if we need you!” Together they cackled as they proceeded to the town.

When they had gone, my Uncle began slowly crawling toward me. “Sandra,” he spat between gasps of painful breaths, “I have not long to live now.” I shook my head vigorously, and attempted to begin my numerous apologies, but for the gag I was unable to utter any intelligible sounds. “Listen, child,” he continued. “Since the time that your aunt and I have raised you, I had always hoped that you would follow your cousin and enter the ranks of the navy. I have a friend who is captain of a ship known as The Rangercraft. My wish is that you would join him, though his craft be small, for I know he will care for you well. And,... niece,... do not,... neglect... your... edu...cation..."

My eyes refilled themselves with tears. I had never felt so alone before now; my Aunt and Uncle had always been there for me, supporting me my entire life. And now, both of them were dead because of their concern for me. How I despised myself! I was responsible for their deaths through my own selfish, careless actions.

Had he not asked me to enlist for the navy, perhaps I would have joined of my own accord, even if I were never to meet the same pirates again. It was my fault that my Aunt had come looking for me, and now it was my fault that both my Uncle and Aunt were dead. Pirates deserved nothing but the noose, regardless of their background, nationality, and circumstance. In my eyes, they were the scum of the earth, worth only to be cast into the sea.

Oh God, I prayed, please send your angel of death to take my life too. Please let me die here and never need to face anyone I know ever again. Let your mercy spare me the shame of my life. Let me never be found by anyone, and let those pirates burn in hell for all eternity for the crimes they have done.

But God did not answer my prayer in the way I had hoped. Neither did the pirates come to take me away, nor did death steal my breath in the heat of the day. Instead, I found that by twisting myself, I could slip through my bonds and untie the gag. Soon I was separated from the tree and coughing out the foul tasting rag from my mouth.

I staggered to my feet, waiting for my legs to remember how to walk again. I had almost stepped out onto the road when I recalled that I should not return home – the pirates could have broken in, and it was still dangerous if I entered the town. Instead I turned to the port, where the boats would dock while their owners sold their wares on land. There I spotted a beautiful ship, flying the colours of the navy on her mast. She was a grand brigantine; sleek, and in good condition, but oiled and ready for battle.

“Well, well, what have we here?” a man asked, upon seeing my presence. “You look somewhat lost, lass. Who sent you?”

I looked up, but instead of answering, asked him, “Is she yours, sir? The brigantine?”

He smiled at me, “Aye, she is mine, in all glory and shame, but she is mine, all the same. Is she presentable today, young lass?”

I nearly laughed. “Why sir, I cannot imagine her unpresentable save she have a crew of five or six! But even so, to my eyes she is both flawless and spotless even in the docks, sir.”

“Why, lass, if thou speaks honestly, indeed I am impressed, for we are a crew of but six people as of yet, seven if I find myself a cabin boy. I will let my shipwright know of your opinion – she will be pleased,” he replied.

“You are a crew of six!? How do you survive? And you have a woman aboard your craft? Is that not against the navy’s regulations?”

The man laughed. “Nay, as long as I am captain it is not. We survive well enough, I feel – the rations do not finish as soon, and indeed, when it comes down to fighting the pirates, we have some of the fiercest women I ever saw.”

“You fight pirates? Captain, pray let me join your crew as the cabin boy you seek. If the only way to avenge my Aunt and Uncle is that I should join the navy and rid the world of pirates, I will do so. Please, Captain?”

“Slow down, girl. If you so wish to be my cabin boy, I have for you a number of questions. First,” he began, counting them upon his fingers. “What is your age?”

“Ah, sir, I cannot lie but that it has been some time since I last counted my years.  Yet if I can remember correctly, I am scarcely fifteen years of age, Captain,” I answered.

“Why, still a child! I was deceived by your stature and speech. But there is more. Have you ever before lived on a seaworthy craft?”

“Nay, Captain, I cannot warrant that honour, but as of today I am determined to join the navy. I will learn as rapidly as my body will allow me. Please, sir, let me be your cabin boy,” I begged.

“Hold your horses, lass, I’ve one more question for you. Where are your folks?”

I fell silent, and bowed my head. Gravely I unfolded to him the events that had taken place that morning. As I spoke of my Uncle’s death, I found that I had forgotten his last words and was furious with myself at having forgotten. But the Captain, recognising my frustration, asked me, “Lass, who is your uncle?”

I gave him my Uncle’s name.

“He was your uncle?” I nodded slowly. The Captain removed his hat from his head and looked to the ground. “He was a dear friend of mine. And you are homeless now? I cannot leave you be. We sail at dusk tomorrow, with a crew of one more." His smile had returned, and his eyes looked at mine.

 

“Ahoy aboard The Rangercraft!” he called to the ship.

“Ahoy Captain Flint!” a combination of voices erupted in unison from the Brigantine.

“We sail at dusk tomorrow with–” here he paused and asked my name in a lowered voice and continued when he had learnt it. “With Sandra Marcus as our cabin boy!”

I was overjoyed. A cheer arose as the crew emerged and disembarked to greet me. As they came, the Captain grinned at me, took my hand in his and shook it. “Welcome aboard The Rangercraft,” he said.

* * *

My personal belongings collected from my house, I moved them into my new quarters. I felt a twinge of sadness and regret: everything I had known and grown up around would be left behind at Port Regal, the town in which I had lived for so long. The only place I had called my home. Now I would leave it all behind me – the forest, the town, the shops, the river, the sea, the cliff tops, all my favourite places of refuge and familiarity would remain while I left to venture into the great unknown. I wondered when I would next return… if I ever would return. I prayed I would be able to. My anger burned at the thought of the bloodthirsty pirates who had stripped me of my guardians and home.

But before I was considered a member of the crew, the Navigator issued me with The Rangercraft’s Code of Conduct – which I was to recite at midday the following day; before we set sail. I was given no other task; so I practiced, and time passed. Finally it was midday, and the whole crew gathered to bear me witness. The Navigator, whose name I had learnt was Samuel Porter, had given me precise instructions and had fully prepared me for this day. I stood up and waited till they had all seated before I began.

“As a member of the His Majesty’s Navy, I understand that I must strive to nurture the spiritual growth of myself and others, to train and exercise gifts and talents to the full, to foster and enhance a community spirit for all, and to focus on Jesus Christ, the risen Lord and Saviour.

“As a member of the crew aboard The Rangercraft, I, Sandra Marcus, promise to do my best not to judge others, but instead to be accepting and forgiving of their faults. I pledge to allow everyone of the crew to hold me accountable to the goals we set before ourselves. I vow to participate in crew meetings, attending as punctually as I can, and if I cannot attend, to inform either the Captain or the Navigator. I swear to be committed to the health and growth of others, respecting the right to call upon one another for encouragement in times of need, and to keep the confidentiality of crew discussions, to submit to the authority of the Navy, to respect the opinions of others, and to uphold the needs of others in my personal life.”

A hearty applause filled my ears. I was accepted.

 

 

Prologue

“Under command of the Royal edict, the criminal by the name of Lawson Jacobs is condemned to be hanged at noon today, found guilty under the charges of murder, theft, high treason, and fraternising with the enemies of the crown. The trial will be public to set an example to all of the consequences of piracy…” the guard turned to face Elizabeth, eyes glaring at her, challenging her to step up and defend her brother. “And your time will come soon!” He laughed menacingly at her, smiling as he strode slowly towards her. Somehow her legs would not move her away from him, and when she looked down she saw they were tied to the gallows with a familiar whip. Panicking, she thrashed her arms wildly in a frantic attempt to escape her oncoming adversary. He was no more than three paces away from her now, and her legs were frozen to the same spot. He reached out a hand to grasp her collar just as she fell backwards in a final effort to leap from his grasp. She fell not onto the cobblestone street but into a huge and dark abyss, sinking into unmeasured depths.

Elizabeth Jacobs awoke with a start. She rarely dreamed of her brother’s trial now. Although she was not sure of how long ago it had been since he was sentenced, she guessed it seemed to be at least a year or so. Had it truly been a year since then? A year since she witnessed her brother struggle to lifelessness, then fall limp at the noose, while her comrade Kenneth Taylor squinted his eyes, shielding them from the bright sunlight? He too had winced as the man fought with all his might against inevitable death. Why had he continued with his fruitless endeavour, if he knew it would lead only to capture and justice? It mattered not. He was dead and she was alive, and she lived only to avenge her dead brother now. All people had best stay clear of her – or suffer their own justice at her hands.

Aboard The Rangercraft

By MeL Scribe

Part of the

“Have you read…?” series.

A Novel

Contents rated:

G.

Only children under the age of 5

may be scared.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the young adult cell group RaDianCe:

John,

Jesz,

Pipin,

Fenny,

Frans,

Philip,

Tedy,

Helen,

Jessy,

Peter,

YanLing,

Careya,

Steffi,

Handy,

Paul,

Yeny

and Joshua.
Thank you for believing in me.