Accursed Donkey and the Black Rider

I found a note from Enchanteur when I woke up from my nap after my night visit to the
Island of the Ancestors.  She said that the next place I was to visit was the House of the Serpents and Blind Springs. I was to make certain I still had my little bag she had given me, and to go outside of town, where a donkey would be waiting for me.

 

I packed my things up again, and made sure my little bag of magical items was nice and safe. Then I went downstairs for a bite to eat before I left.

 

It was already late afternoon by the time I walked out of town to find my donkey. She found me first. I had been hoping I might see George again, but no such luck. Instead I got Shirley.

 

I was walking down a small path wondering where my donkey could be when something came out of the underbrush and rammed into the back of me. I landed on my front- fortunately not my face, but it was muddy out and I got thoroughly mucky.  “Sorry, sorry! I mis-timed that! Didn’t mean to knock you over! Oh dear!”

 

Something goosed me in the part of me that was sticking up and I grunted, “Oof! Get off of me!”

The nose moved away and I struggled to my feet, my backpack throwing me off balance.

I turned around and saw a donkey standing there, contrite. “You must be my donkey,” I sighed.

 

“Shirley. I’m Shirley and I’m so sorry I’m late. I was supposed to be back in that clearing waiting and I was thinking and just lost track of time. Oh dear. I am SO sorry.”

 

I stopped the stream of apologies, “I’ll live. And what clearing are you talking about? I haven’t passed any clearings!” I was trying to scrape some of the mud off my front as I talked.

 

“Why, the clearing back there…. Uh oh. It’s just around the next curve. Oh my. I did it again, didn’t I?” Her head drooped and she looked very dejected. I had to admit I was a little worried. She was supposed to know the way to the House of  the Serpents and couldn’t even find the clearing where she was supposed to meet me. This might be a problem.

 

Still, I hated to see her so sad, so I tried to cheer her up. That turned out to be a mistake.

 

 

“Hey, Shirley, don’t stress. Everyone gets a little off the path every now and then. It’s fine. And look, I got most of the mud off my front. Let’s just get going, okay? We got a really late start today, and I want to make some distance before we stop for the night. Come on, let’s go.”

 

She cheered up immediately, braying and dancing happily. A donkey doing a happy dance is something to behold- that is, until she steps on your foot. Now I was hopping around, too, but I was holding my foot and yelling.

 

Shirley, of course, was very contrite. I stopped her before she could get going on the apologies again, and climbed on her back. We set off down the trail. I am happy to say that she only smacked my head on one really big overhanging branch on the first part of the trail, and only ran me into thorn bushes twice. She kept up a running apology as we went.

 

“Oops, watch that branch. Didn’t mean to let that branch slap back against you like that. Oh- look out- I slipped on that rock. Sorry, I’ll try not to get quite so close to those sticker bushes next time.”  And so on. Shirley really meant well. She really tried. She was really sweet. Her intentions were good. And you know what they say about good intentions, and where the path they pave leads to.

 

Anyway, after an hour or so of this, I decided to get off and walk for a little bit. It seemed safer. We traveled like this for a while, and then the path got very narrow and rocky.  In fact, it seemed to be disappearing, and it was starting to get dark. I didn’t like this combination. I liked it even less when Shirley said, “I think I should have taken a left back at the last branch in the trail.”

 

“Are we lost?” I asked.

 

“Not really, no. I mean, we aren’t where we’re supposed to be, but I know where we went wrong, and if we just go back a little way on this trail, we can fix it.”  We turned around. I was getting tired, so I climbed on Shirley’s back, and we went back down this narrow, stony game track in the growing dark, towards where she thought the mistake had been made.

 

We found the fork in the trail and tried the other branch. Unfortunately, this one didn’t seem to be any better. In fact, it was worse. We were soon going single file, first Shirley and then me, on a narrow path on the side of a hill that seemed to be turning into a mountain. This trail, like the other one, was disappearing. We made it past the bad section, though, just as the last of the light from the sky faded and it got really dark. I climbed back on Shirley and looked around as I rode. We were now in a dark forest. This wasn’t a nice tame forest, either. It was the kind of forest that has eyes.

 

The eyes turned out to be real ones. I was just getting ready to dismount from Shirley’s back when hoof beats sounded behind me. I couldn’t imagine where they were coming from, since the trail was so bad, but then they were on us, and I was being yanked from Shirley’s back and hauled onto my tummy over the front of a saddle. All I could see was a big black horse and the flapping black cloak of the rider. I could hear poor Shirley braying in distress as the rider pounded away with me.

 

I was very uncomfortable, very frightened, and more than a little bit mad. The mad was what showed. I was yelling and squirming and flailing around. The rider said nothing and didn’t react to anything I did or said. The horse just galloped on through the darkness.

 

I was starting to feel really ill, being on my tummy on a jouncing horse. Just about the time I thought I couldn’t take anymore, the rider reined the horse in. I grabbed at the rider’s cloak for something to hold on to just as he pushed me off. I toppled off- my legs wouldn’t hold me- and pulled the cloak off with me. I was rolling on the ground, tangled in the cloak when I heard the rider pound off again. I got my face clear in time to see a silhouette of the rider against the moon; I couldn’t see well but I wasn’t sure I saw a head on the rider. As I finished untangling myself, I realized that this fit with where I was. I was in a graveyard.

 

I could see leaning headstones all around me, with weeds tall around them. There seemed to be a crumbling mausoleum a short distance away, and even sitting down I could see that some of the older graves were sunken in. As I swiveled around, I realized there was a headstone right behind me, and I was sitting on a grave.

 

This gave me goosebumps all over. I struggled untangle myself from the black cloak and get myself off of that grave. I got to my feet and jumped off the grave just in time, because the ground where I had been began to heave and buckle. I stood there frozen with terror as I watched the grave split open and something start to emerge.

 

I found my wits and my feet at the same time, and turned to run. All the graves around me were doing the same thing, and the graveyard appeared to be endless, rolling off in all directions.

 

I ran in the first direction I turned and at least got away from the opening graves. I found a huge old tree with low hanging branches and scrambled up in it as fast as I could. That tree seemed to be the only living thing besides me in the entire cemetery, and it was also the only thing that wasn’t moving. The graveyard below me was churning with graves opening up. The ones that weren’t tearing open had wisps of white coming out of them.

 

Ghosts and zombies and here I was stuck in a tree. Life just didn’t get any better than this. Shirley must have rubbed her bad luck off on me.

 

However, bad luck or not, I would be very glad to see her about now. I clung to the rough bark and wrapped the cloak tighter around me. As I shifted, I knocked the bag from Enchanteur loose and it bounced loudly off branches all the way to the ground. Of all the things to drop, it would be the one thing I couldn’t forget about or do without.  The noise had alerted some of the zombies down below that I was hiding in the tree and some of them were shambling over to deal with the intruder in their home. Some of the ghosts were floating up towards me. I decided to follow the bag down, grab it quickly, and then run for it again. At least the zombies didn’t seem to move very fast.

 

I slid down the tree, scraping my legs raw as I did. Just before I reached the ground, a zombie shuffled past, caught his foot on the bag and shambled away with it in tow. I yelled incoherently and fell the last few feet, landing on my already bruised posterior with a thud.

 The zombie was disappearing into the darkness with my bag when I heard a horrible commotion. There was a loud braying, and a lot of thumps and a few crashes. Then the zombie with the bag came flying back in my direction, head over heels. The bag came loose from his foot and flew back at me. As I grabbed it, I saw other zombies rolling this way and that with a loudly braying donkey plowing into them left and right. It was Shirley, doing what she did best- wreaking havoc – bless her heart. She bowled them over clear up to where I was standing at the base of the tree and brayed “Climb on! Let’s get out of here!”

 

I didn’t wait for a second invitation. I jumped on and we careened out of the cemetery, knocking a few more zombies flying and barreling through the cold wispy ghosts. Shirley only knocked my shins against two headstones on the way out and only tore through one thorn bush. I was impressed. As we pounded through the rusty iron gate, which caught my shirt sleeve and ripped it off my shirt, she brayed triumphantly. She didn’t stop running until we were well away from that place.

 

When she finally slowed down, gasping and wheezing, I climbed carefully off her back. I still managed to catch my foot in her harness and fall down. She was truly amazing, this donkey. “What happened and where are we and what is going on?” I asked her as I lay on the ground, dazed.

 

“Ummm, you need to get up. We need to keep moving. I’ll tell you when we find a safe place to stop,” she replied.

 

I struggled to my feet and we staggered on. We crashed through the underbrush with all the subtlety of a bulldozer. Finally we reached a small bridge over a fast moving little stream. On the far side, Shirley slowed down. “Across running water. We’ll be safe here for a while, so I can catch you up on what is going on.” She continued, muttering, “Oh, this is terrible, just terrible. It was bad enough when it was just me, now it’s people in my care, too. Oh dear, oh dear.”

 

I stopped right where I was and sat down. “Okay, Shirley, tell me what’s going on, RIGHT NOW.”

 

She sighed dramatically and said, “It’s a curse. I’ve been cursed.”

 

I waited for her to continue.

 

“You see, I got a little lost one day and was walking down the wrong trail.”

 

This I could believe.

 

“Anyway, it was the trail that the black riders use, only I didn’t know it at the time. I walked in front of one of them and tripped him.”

 

So far I could picture this perfectly.

 

“He fell off his horse and, well, he lost something. We couldn’t get it, where it fell. He was really mad at me, and he cursed me. Until he gets it back, my luck will be terrible. Everything will go wrong.” She sniffled. “I’ve tried not to believe in the curse, thinking maybe it would go away, but that hasn’t worked. I was afraid to tell anyone because I didn’t want to lose my job. And now look what’s happened. You’re hurt, we’re way off our path, and who knows what will happen next.”

 

I stopped her and asked, “Shirley, what on earth could he have lost that is so important?”

 

We both looked up at a noise on the far side of the little stream. A voice rang inside my head, “IT WAS MY HEAD!”

 

The black rider sat there on his horse, headless but still radiating contempt. “That fool donkey knocked my head out of my hands. I can’t reach it to get it back and if I’m miserable, so will she be!” was what I heard inside my head.

 

“Uh, right, Mr…?” I said

 

“Murphy.”

 

Somehow that figured.

 

“Where is this head of yours? Maybe I can help you find it? If I did that would you take the curse off poor Shirley here?” I asked.

 

“I suppose so. Be warned, though, there’s only so much that will do,” the rider replied sourly.

 

“Okay, then, let’s get going. Show me where it is.”

 

We all set off downstream. He stayed on his side of the water and we stayed on ours. Shirley and I both felt much safer like that. After about half an hour I started smelling something unpleasant. It smelled like rotten eggs. I stopped and sniffed again. “What is that smell?” I asked.

 

The rider replied, “That’s where my head is.” For a headless guy, he sounded awfully sarcastic.

 

The head had fallen into a hot sulpher spring. According to Shirley and the rider, it had gone all the way to the bottom of the pool and was lodged there under a rock. It was down quite deep. Apparently headless horsemen don’t swim, and of course donkeys don’t have any hands so the head was lost.

 

It was far too dark to see anything, but the horseman had a solution for that problem. He summoned a few will o’ the wisps from the forest and they came and hovered over the pool. I still couldn’t see, so one of them dove down into the water. It went all the way to the bottom and then I could see the skull, grinning up at me. It was down about ten feet, so I would have to dive for it.

 

I took off my boots and stepped into the water, muddy clothes and all. Fortunately, the water wasn’t too hot, even though it smelled rank. I placed my glasses on a handy rock, well back from the edge so they wouldn’t fall in too, and dove.

 

On the first try, I reached the skull and pulled on it. It was well and truly stuck, so I tugged on the rock it was under instead. This moved. I went up for air, and then dove back down again. This time the skull came loose. I swam up to the surface and held it aloft, triumphant.

 

“I got it!” I shouted. Climbing out of the water and putting my glasses back on, I went over to the rider. He reached for it, but I held it back, saying, “Not until you take the curse off of Shirley, Mr. Murphy.” He sighed, but I felt something Happen.

 

I looked at Shirley, and she nodded. I grabbed the cloak I had pulled off of him and offered it to him along with his skull.

 

Murphy took the skull, but refused the cloak. “I’ve got others, and you may need it. You’re way off course and it’s a long ride where you’re going. If the weather gets bad, you’ll want it. Remember, I said that removing the curse would only do so much.” His body turned back towards Shirley and he shuddered.

 

 “I am going back to the graveyard to see if I can persuade all the zombies and ghosts to go back to their graves. Please don’t follow me. Your help I don’t need.” Then he tucked the skull under his arm. The eyes started glowing red in the darkness, and as he rode off, I could have sworn one of them winked at me.

 

I looked at Shirley and then at the hot spring. Sulpher or not, it was hot and wet and cleaner than the mud and sticks and so forth I had been wearing most of the day. I already stank of the sulpher anyway, so I shrugged and climbed back in the water, sitting on a rock that was at a nice depth. The will o’ the wisps hung around overhead and I leaned back and relaxed.

 

“Uh, She Wolf, don’t you think we had better be going?” Shirley asked.

 

“Nope. This is the most comfortable I’ve been all day. I’m not moving until I’ve soaked out a few of these aches that I seem to have acquired.” I replied. “After that, I’m finding a comfortable pile of leaves, unrolling my bedroll and finding some food in my pack. Tomorrow morning we will be going. Not until then.”

 

Shirley sighed, and then nodded. “Okay, I guess that’ll work. I’ll go look for a pile of leaves for you.” She ambled off and I heard a crash and an ouch from the direction she went. I was beginning to see what the rider meant when he said there was only so much removing the curse would do. I heard another small thud and winced. This was definitely going to be an interesting journey.

 

Three days later, in the middle of a torrential downpour, we arrived at the House of Serpents. The woman at the door looked at me, eyes widening. My clothes were torn and I was scraped and scratched and filthy. I also stank. She wrinkled her nose. “Brimstone?” she asked. Then she looked at Shirley and nodded, saying, “Oh. I see. Let’s get you in and cleaned up. We have some special salve and a first aid kit just for people who come in with Shirley.”

 

I turned around to say good bye. Shirley was walking away toward the stables dragging a branch which was stuck in her harness. I smiled fondly. Yes, the rider was right. There was only so much that could be done.

 Posted by She Wolf

Ancestor Mine II

Ancestor ancestor mine

Root of my trunk

Trunk of my branch

Branch of my leaf

How would I grow

 

How would I grow

And green and change

How would I go from now

To then

And stand ‘gainst the winds of time

 

The howling winds of time

To stand straight and tall as you did

And not let the winds strip

Me bare

Nor yet steal the sap from my veins

 

The life running in my veins

The blood from my life

Leaving me withered and dry

Not juicy and full

Leaving me bent and tired

 

Bent and tired and all sucked dry

From the winds of life and time

You have met this wind

Face on and lived thru it

Held straight and tall and fresh

 

Straight and fresh

And ready to stand more

All that came at you

With pride and dignity

And love

 

Child of child of mine

Leaf to my branch

Branch to my trunk

Trunk to my root

Gift of my love’s love

 

Love

Love is the answer

I loved and that was why

The winds which pulled at me

Never took me down

 

Never took me down nor

Sucked me dry

They did their best

But my love

Held me safe

 

Held me safe within

For tired is not lost

And pulled at is not down

And if the dry winds parch then

Pull sweet moisture from down deep

 

Sweet life from love

And all I did

I did for love

And consecrated it to

Life

 

Posted by She Wolf

Ancestor Mine

The night was chilly and damp. The sunset was long past and the moon was well past full, barely enough to send a glint of silver across the waters of the bay. The tide was high and the water slapped against the piling of the quay, pushed by a slight chill breeze. It felt lonely and empty out here tonight. The vigor of the day was gone, and the magic of the sunset, leaving a dark and empty night. I shivered, both from the chill and the emptiness. I walked softly down the docks, afraid to make too much noise; this seemed to be the sort of night where you didn’t want to attract attention to yourself. It might be the unwanted kind. Finally I came to where the barges were lined up, the ferry women waiting to take their charges to the Isle of Ancestors. This was my destination tonight. The Song of the Deep was the first in line, so I didn’t have to go looking.  The ferry woman herself was unrecognizable, wrapped in a cloak as black as the sky was tonight. I stepped in and sat on the bench. Wordlessly, the ferry woman handed me a cloak much like her own. Gladly I wrapped it around myself, warmth against the damp chill wind off the water, and we began the journey to the Isle of Ancestors.   I was nervous about this and huddled inside the cloak still shivering, although no longer from the weather. I wasn’t sure what I was going to ask, or who I would see. I probably wouldn’t even recognize whoever it was.  I didn’t even know why I was so nervous. Finally I shook myself, took several deep breaths and concentrated on the sound the barge made as it went through the water. I just tried to stay in the moment and my nerves calmed. Before I thought it possible, the barge was grinding up on the shore of the island.I stood up and stepped onto the wet sand. I could see a grove of apple trees before me, and crossed the beach towards it. It was shining silver in the moonlight, and a small path wound away under the trees.  

The night did not feel empty here; it was thick with my ancestors who were clustered, waiting. Only one would come to meet with me, but they were all curious and gathered here to see me, the person I had become, and the person I had the potential to be. Their presence warmed me.  

As I walked the white ribbon of path, the crushed shells that formed it crunched under my feet and the apple leaves above me whispered to each other. A branch reached down and stroked my hair as I passed. The spirits drifted away, one by one, until I was left with the sense of just one accompanying me; it felt almost as if I were being led by the hand as though I were a little child. I treasured this feeling until I came to the mound and the door and then the loving spirit left me. I must enter alone. The torches at the entrance were the first light other than the moon that I had seen all night, and they hurt my eyes. I entered into the corridor. It smelled of earth and damp and a little bit of growing things- a bit musty, but not unpleasant. I could hear my footsteps echoing in the space. The red glow at the far end which had seemed so far away when I entered was right in front of me sooner than I expected. My stomach was all butterflies again and my palms were sweaty. I felt like I was a little girl again, standing in the hall at school for misbehaving and afraid the headmaster would come by and question me. I took a deep breath and stepped into the room. I could see someone standing with their back to me. Remembering my instructions, I walked clockwise around the hearth and sat on the bench across from my ancestor. I asked my question, received the answer and a small gift, and then was questioned in turn. The question gave me food for thought for a long time to come.   I reached into my pocket and found a small box in it. I gave my gift, a small piece of myself with my love in it. Then I smiled and thanked my ancestor for the time and the pleasure of the meeting and walked the rest of the way around and left. The walk back to the barge was silent, except for my feet crunching the shells under foot. My ancestors still pressed close around me and gave me a feeling of being held and loved. It was with sadness that I left them when I reached the beach where the barge was waiting for me. The ferry woman, wrapped in her black cloak, was silent as we made our way back to Duwamish. I was silent, too, for my meeting had given me much to ponder. 

When we reached the bay, the sun was just sending pink streaks onto the horizon, and as I stepped out onto the quay, it edged into the sky. I handed the ferry woman back the cloak she had given me to wear, and, breaking the silence for the first time, thanked her. She smiled, her weathered face crackling into happy lines, and said she could tell things had gone well. I fingered the new token I carried in my pocket and said that yes, things had gone well.

Posted by She Wolf

Dolphins

I was sitting on the end of the dock, picking a splinter out of my foot and cussing quietly under my breath. I hadn’t been able to resist taking my boots off and padding down the length of the dock in my bare feet. The weathered boards had felt good beneath my feet, reminding me of pleasant times in my childhood. It had felt good, that is, until the weathered boards got rough and shoved a splinter in my poor defenseless foot. Darn boards! It wasn’t my fault at all, of course- just the boards. I was feeling very put upon and tense and cranky.

 

Anyway, I was sitting there picking the splinter out of my foot when I heard someone come up behind me. Whoever it was wore boots - I guess they knew how mean the boards could be. I turned around and saw a pair of canvas trousers going up, and then a set of strong looking hands holding some packages, and finally a grinning face. It was the ferry woman from last night. She must just be coming back from her night runs. “I see you’re a bit of a tenderfoot!” she laughed.

 

“It’s not me, it’s these boards! They were out to get me!” I said.

 

“Yah, that’s what they all say.” She abruptly changed the subject. “Be here tonight, just after dusk. I’ll take you over to the Isle of Ancestors.” She turned and walked away, her boots clomping down the dock. At the end of the dock she turned and called, “The dolphin baths are a nice way to spend your morning. You might go and see if the dolphins are in today!” Then she disappeared into the village.

 

 I put my boots back on and went to see the woman at the dolphin baths. The thought of soaking a morning away, after all the traveling I have been doing lately, was irresistible. The dolphins were the icing on the cake.

 

When I checked in at the baths, the woman who handed me a towel told me that yes, indeed, the dolphins were there today, and they looked ready to play. Play, I thought. Hmm. I wanted to relax, but I didn’t know about play.

 

I got undressed, leaving my clothes in a basket, and started to hurry across the wet tiles. I slowed down to look at the pattern they made. It was soothing, geometric, in watery colors. The air was damp and warm. I could hear the dolphins splashing and chattering at each other at the far end of the pool. I put my towel down in a dry place and slipped into the water. It was a little cooler than I had expected, but the air was so warm in here that it felt good. The salt water lapped gently at my skin and stung the bottom of my foot where I had picked out most, but not all, of the splinter. I eased down into the water and let my feet drift up as I relaxed. It was so easy to float in the buoyant salt water! My entire body relaxed and I listened to the dolphins playing through the distortions of the water. Sounds are always strange under the water.

 

I must have floated there for about five minutes before the dolphins came up to me. It was long enough to relax me thoroughly; they allowed me that. When they came, it was silently, sliding along beneath the surface without a ripple to give them away. I felt one rubbery snout nudge me and then another. There were soon quite a few of them all nudging and poking at me. Finally they were tickling me. I started to laugh, and twisted over to look around. They had nudged me all the way to the other end of the pool. Now they danced around me chattering and clicking- laughing dolphin laughs. I was treading water since the pool was quite deep here.

 

One of them brought out a bright blue ring and tossed it. It sank and one of the other dolphins swam after it, catching it before it hit the bottom. Then it brought up the ring and tossed it. They continued this and I began to see a pattern of who tossed and who caught it. It was like a game of dolphin frisbee.

 

Suddenly, they were all looking at me- it was my turn.  The dolphin with the ring dropped it. I dove after it, but I am no dolphin, and couldn’t swim quickly enough to catch it. Then a shape swam up to me. I saw a dorsal fin being offered and grabbed it. The dolphin pulled me through the water like it was nothing and I grabbed the blue ring. We bobbed back up and I held the ring triumphantly aloft. Then I too tossed the ring for the next one to catch. We played this for a while, like a bunch of little kids at the community pool and then all of them but one raced off.

 

The dolphin who had helped me stayed behind and offered her fin again. I grabbed it and we took off through the water very quickly. We raced around the pool and then down into the water. Just when my breath was about to give out, she surfaced and off we went again. The next trip down I let go and swam by myself for a few moments with the dolphin swimming beside me. Then I grabbed her fin again and she pulled me up.

 

Finally she brought me back to the shallow part of the pool and floated there gently beside me. I took the hint and started to float again myself. It was even more peaceful this time, with her rubbery body floating beside me, after all the activity we had engaged in.

 

As I drifted both physically and mentally, she began to speak. “Play refreshes the spirit like rest refreshes the body,” she told me. I knew this was true. I do try to remember to play, but reminders, especially when busy-ness drags me along and wears at me, are always good.

 

 The warm water lapped over me and the dolphins all came back one by one and nudged me, and then I was alone. I lay there in the water a time longer, until my skin was very wrinkly

 

 As I dragged my soggy self out of the water, I realized that my foot didn’t hurt any more. The splinter had worked its way out and was gone. I was refreshed and ready for the rest of the day- and night. As I dried off and dressed again, my skin soft from the salty water, I was glad I had come and played for a while. The dolphins were right. Play refreshes the spirit.

 

Posted by She Wolf

Escape from the Calabar

Posted by Barbara in Lemurian Grand Tour, Barbara’s Journey, Pirates. add a comment , edit post

The Calabar Felonway ain’t no ship fer me, not a ‘tall. Th’ shoutin’ ne’er lets up, always those green eyes checkin’ on yer werk, barkin’ new orders t’ follow, ne’er a time t’ rest or relax. Tha’ scowlin’ scoundrel, th’ one claimin’ t’ be th’ Cap’n, why, tha’ face follows me wherever I be, even into me sleep. She howls in me nightmares and wakes me from me deep snore, me a drippin’ in sweat. No, this ship ain’t no ship fer me. I’m plannin’ to go overboard, an’ soon.

I planned it darn good, too. Ever’ thing planned for a go a’ two hours a’past midnight. The moon set awhile back an’ only a few stars blinked into th’ sea waters, th’ clouds mostly coverin’ the skies. Th’ wind were blowin’ mild and the ocean blue weren’t quite lookin’ like a piece a’ glass, but ’twere nearly. I hoisted th’ dinghy from its bed a’ rope an’ tossed me pack into th’ bottom. Me pack was bulgin’ with fresh water flasks an’ strips o’ salt meat an’ a bottle of grog or two. Th’ cleanest wad a’ clothin’ an’ a’ blanket I could find, I scrounged from under th’ deck. If they had vermin, I couldn’t tell an’ I didn’t much care at this point. Me sharpened knife were slid in me one boot and me iv’ry handled pistol were in me other. I hain’t tellin’ where tha’ purty gun a come from, an’ no one best ask. A belt a’ bullets hanged across me chest, covered by me tunic and black slicker. Me bandana and felt hat sat on me head, pertectin’ me from th’ sun an’ wind. Me flint ’twere wrapped tight in me waxed packet, along wit’ me compass an’ th’ telescope I stole from th’ cap’n’s chest. Me oars, an’ then a extra pair too, lay on the wood planks in th’ bottom a’ th’ boat. I packed up what I needed an’ I thinks me got it all.

Me friends, Ol’ Scotch and Reddy Rover, had kep’ a good lookie whiles me were a loadin’ up, an’ now they’s lowered the dinghy into the sea and let me loose. The sea took me o’er as I pushed me craft away from th’ pirate ship. As I took a glance at th’ ship one las’ time, I see’d a face a peerin’ at me from a low port hole. Me heart, it flip flopped. ‘Twere so dark, I couldn’t see nothin’ but a slice a’ green eyes a lookin’ out at me. I heaved the dinghy further away from the Calabar, oars sloppin’ in th’ water, and no alarm rung out, so I relaxed a bit. I ‘magined I’d done skipped from tha’ crazy cap’n. Me breath come out with so huge a relief, it almost rocked th’ boat o’er on its’ side. In th’ back ‘er me mind, thar were a nag of a doubt, but I pushed tha’ away, and waited fer the sunrise. Fer th’ first time in a long while, me rested a bit withou’ th’ threat of a strap rippin’ on me skin. I tell ya th’ truth an’ nothin’ more. Tha’ cap’n were as mean a soul as th’ devil himself.

I chawed on some meat and sipped at me water an’ then slept awhile. When th’ blue a’ th’ morn’ come up from th’ horizon. I pulled me telescope out ‘er me bag t’ check th’ horizon, an’ me heart did another flip. To th’ east by southeast, a vessel a’ some sort were makin’ time t’wards me. Even at a distance ‘tween us, I could see th’ flag a’ th’ crossbones flyin’ straight out with th’ breeze. Thar’ was no doubt. Thar’ was no other pirate ship on these waters, so’s I could only ‘magine th’ cold-hearted Cap’n were a’ chasin’ me down. An’ th’ trouble I’d be in once I’d a be captured were not to be pondered. Me legs shaked so hard, I couldn’t stand on me two feet an’ I had t’ sit me down ‘n catch me breath.

I swings all ’round and peers through me glass. A hint of a’ island shows itself t’ me. Jus’ a speck at first, but growin’ bigger an’ bigger as I row. Inside a’ hour, I finds meself in a hidden cove and pulls me dinghy on to the boggy land. Me feet are wobbly on land, but I ignore th’ sway an’ pull me boat into th’ rushes that’er packed tight enough ta make a good hidin’ place. I take extra time to cover me dinghy with clumps a’ grass an’ weeds ’til it’s purty much hidden gone. The Calabar’s now in sight, but a’ distance away yet. I throws me gear in me pack, puts me four oars in another hidey place, an’ high-tails it t’wards the middle a’ th’ island. ‘Twer’ lush an’ green, an’ me sees mushrooms an’ berries fer me takin’. Scat marks the trail I follow, so I know thar’s game on th’ island. A granite cliff rises up high in th’ sky, an’ caves spot th’ side. I make a torch a’ rushes an’ lights it with me flint. I goes into a few a th’ caves. I sees plentiful rooms fer shelter and two with runnin’ waterfalls, cold an’ fresh. I’m still explorin’, when I walks out from one a’ th’ highest caves and sees th’ Calabar’s search party crossin’ o’er th’ gang plank, tha’ green eyed Cap’n’ keepin’ watch o’er ever’one .

I needs t’ hide some’eres quick. I turns on me feet and hurries fast through the tunnels into th’ deepest cave, runnin’ lthrough th’ mazes’ rights an’ lefts. Finally I reaches a dead-end room, no bigger than a coupla caskets layin’ side by side. Thar’s another hole, low to th’ ground, jus’ big ‘nough fer a skinny body ta wiggle through. While most a’ Calabar’s crew is well muscled, I’m skinny and tall, though I can keep up in a fight with mos’ anybody. Th’ hole is muddy from drippin’ water, but I slithers through an’ covers me tracks with a swabbin’ blanket. This bitty cave is only big enough fer me ta sit inside nex’ t’ me pack.

An hour goes by. Two hours. Three. I’m considerin’ crawlin’ from me hidey hole when I hears the faintest of sounds. In minutes, boot steps of two or three pound on the stone floor of me cave. There are turnoffs to get lost in and I prays they takes a wrong ‘un. ‘Tis th’ first time I prays since I’m a lil’ nipper, but I s’poses God lissens to prayers from both sinners an’ saints. The footsteps comes close: I hear heavy breathing. Bodies push into th’ casket room.

“Nothin’ in here,” says Ronnie. “Not even ‘nough space t’ turn ’round in. Jus’ a dead end.”

Bonesy heads ‘way from me hole, mumblin’ ta Ronny. “Let’s hope the other search party found ‘er. We’re in big trouble if’n we don’t come home with ‘er. Jus’ can’t find any sign. How’d she get away?”

“Wishes I knew. I’d do th’ same. Mebbe she ain’t on the’ island. Might a’ capsized or rowed so fast she’s outta sight by now.”

“Good thinkin’, Ronny. You go explain tha’ ta th’ Cap’n’. Mebbe she’ll award you First Matey.” Bonesy laughs.

“Mebbe I’ll stay on th’ island. Looks purty fine t’ me. Water, food, fish. Better ‘n our fate on th’ Calabar.”

“Know what, Ronny. I’m game. We’ll make a go of it, or we’ll a die tryin’. An’ mebbe Ol’ Bo will turn up with some a’ her sea-farin’ gear.”

Ronny looks down at the Calabar. Then she stares into the cave and gazes around the deep greenery. Birds were squawking in the air. Waterfalls were scattered in the caves and down the face of the cliff. ”We can only pray, Bonesy. We can only pray.”

They sit on a stony outcrop, staring at the ship and her crew scurrying about. “The other crew’s on and thar’ pullin’ up th’ plank. Bet they’s thinkin’ we’s gettin’ a good punishment.”

“If’n they’s only knew, Bonesy. If’n they’s only knew.” And they break out in a hearty laugh.

I laughs inside the cave, echoing thar’ sounds. In a few days, I’ll make meself known. They’ll ‘preciate a pair a’ extra hands an’ me flint and meat, too. Think I’ll keep me’ knife and pistol on the quiet side, though. At least ’til I know who’s on whose side. “‘Spect we’ll all be on each other’s side. No more ol’ green eyes. Won’t that be grand.” An’ I throws me hat into th’ air. No more piratin’ fer me. Nope. Bo’s gonna go straight.