by K. T. Tomb
“Rajeev, we have to get back to the ship.” John turned and started back the way he had come, back over the crest of the island. Rajeev had to run to catch up, so long his strides were.
“What’s happening? Who are they?” Rajeev said, as John broke into a jog, the rifle bouncing.
“I don’t know, Rajeev, but I do know that we’re under attack. They know that the Nannie Dee is here, and those men are planning on mischief for us. See how they set off in different directions to circle the island? Armed men would only do that if they had a reason to, or feared attack themselves. We know they can’t be fearing attack themselves, or they would have stayed aboard their ship.”
“Which means,” said Rajeev, “that they’re trying to catch us like cobras in a pot!”
Despite the situation, John smiled. “Agreed, except our cobras are all tail and no fangs. Apart from some blades and this rifle, we have no weapons at all. We have to get away from here, and fast.” They ran as fast as the jungle conditions would allow. Although their route was a straight line and therefore shorter than the coastal route the interlopers were taking, the terrain was much rougher. If they made it back to the camp in time at all, it would leave them scant time to escape. John thought about firing his rifle, but that would surely not alert his shipmates, as they would be expecting him to fire at a bird on his hunt, and would surely alert the new arrivals to the island that someone was not on the coast. His only choice was to beat them back to Captain Sykes, and get away, back to the Nannie Dee, and use the speed of their ship to escape. He hoped it would be enough.
Chapter Four
The priest knew all too well that his king needed to have a son. He replied, “Dasaratha, you will have sons. I shall perform a sacred rite to please the gods.”
Excited by this wonderful news, the king ran to tell his three wives Sumitra, Kaikeyi, and Kausalya, “I will have sons!”
At the same moment many of the gods were growing more and more angry with Ravana, the ruler of the rakshasas, or demons. Ravana was no ordinary looking demon. He had ten heads and twenty arms. He also had remarkable powers. But he was using his power to prevent the gods and holy men from performing sacred rituals. This was a terrible insult to all who were holy.
Learning of Ravana’s actions, Vishnu, the protector of the universe, decided it was time to do something. But what? Years ago Ravana was granted a boon, or promise. This boon protected him from gods and demons. How then, Vishnu wondered, could Ravana be stopped?
Vishnu thought, “Ravana, in his arrogance, protected himself only from those beings whom he thought could hurt him. He failed to protect himself from humans and monkeys.” Vishnu decided to be born as a human who could kill Ravana. The gods and holy men were pleased with his decision. Vishnu sent a messenger to king Dasaratha with payasam, a sweet made of milk and rice, laced with a special potion.
The messenger said, “Give each of the three wives this drink. It is a boon that will bring sons.” Then the messenger disappeared. The king gave each of his wives part of the drink. No sooner had his wives finished, than each shone with the glow of a divine being in their womb. There was great rejoicing in the city when four sons were born to their king. Their names were Rama, Lakshmana, Bharata, and Satrughna. Even as infants, everyone noticed that Rama and Lakshmana were inseparable. It was as if they were one life in two bodies. —Ramayana
Pray No More
It was really the happy accident of Rajeev joining John on his walk that saved their lives.
Returning on a path that had already been made passable with his machete meant that their path back to where the crew had been gathering wood for an evening fire or generally lazing around was almost as easy as a Sunday constitutional. Reporting to Captain Sykes what they had seen, out of breath and sweating, John and Rajeev could only plead with their master to believe them.
“Aye, sounds like pirates out o’ Siam alright. How long ago did you see these men, eh?” Sykes spoke as he waved to attract the attention of Mandeep, who was wrestling with the single rowboat from the Nannie Dee that they had brought ashore.
“Maybe forty minutes, Cap’n,” said John. Rajeev was speaking in rapid Hindi, telling the captain the numbers and arms of the enemy.
“I’d say that gives us less than twenty minutes before they’re on us and our goose is cooked.” Sykes turned and stomped up the beach. “Pikeham! Dr. Pikeham! We’re leaving, and we’re leaving now!”
Pikeham had taken the respite from the rain as his signal to set up the entirety of his portable laboratory, and was in the process of erecting some kind of awning to keep some of the delicate equipment. He turned to the captain with a look of polite fury, his nose twitched as if it alone was not restrained by the common decency of the British class system and would quite like to jump off Pikeham’s face and attack the captain alone. “Captain Sykes, I am in the middle of important work, and, need I not remind you, that it is I who am paying for this journey. I have lots to do before we can leave.”
Sykes smiled, and faked obsequiousness. “Oh, of course, Doctor, you are quite correct, you have my apologies. Would you like for me to translate this to the Siamese pirates who are no doubt about to come round t’coves to the north and west, or would you like to do that yourself? Personally I found t’pirates of Siam more the types to use t’cutlass first and pick t’loot off your corpse second, but what would I know, I have only been sailing the seas for thirty years.” He dropped the sarcasm as Pikeham’s eyes widened. “Come on, Pikeham. Into the rowboat; we’re leaving, and I mean now.”
“What about my equipment? John my man, help me—” Pikeham’s words were cut off as Sykes slapped him hard, backhand across the face, and shoved the doctor toward Mandeep and the boat. Rajeev took his cue from his captain, and together he and Sykes frogmarched Pikeham to safety.
John turned to the rest of the crew, twenty or more souls and told them what lay afoot; some wanted to stand and fight, but they were younger men eager to prove themselves, and the older sailors had their way. Abandoning all of the heavy equipment the doctor had brought ashore, there was still barely enough room for all crew in the row boat. Little Gupta was forced to perch on the prow of the launch, a miniature figure head come to life. John, Mandeep, Rajeev and Captain Sykes himself pulled the oars, and they were perhaps a hundred yards off shore when the first squad of Siamese appeared through the tree line to the north side of the beach. A couple of them fired pistols in anger at the rowers, but they were too far out for anywhere near an accurate shot. Still, the crew of the Nannie Dee were silent and pensive, none of them taking the chance to taunt their would-be assailants. It was not until all the crew were safely up the rope ladders to the Nannie Dee and Captain Sykes had ordered the immediate unfurling of the sails that anyone had much to say, save for Dr. Pikeham bemoaning the loss of his telescope and easel. John was more concerned with the roiling thunderclouds out to sea. If they stayed here, they would be protected from the worst of the storm by the shallow waters but would surely be taken by the pirates. If they left, they may outrun the pirates in their heavier warship, but could they outrun the powers of the gods themselves that had sent this storm to lie in their path?
Sykes apparently had the same thoughts, alternately spying the beach where the pirates were looting Dr. Pikeham’s equipment, and the clouds to the south that were closing in. He consulted the ship’s barometer, and licked his finger and stuck it in the air.
“Mandeep! We go north, fast as we can, get t’wind a-running behind us, and pray Mother Mary guards us all, even you heathen dogs! First watch, you’re up. Gupta lad, best strap yourself down, it’s going to be chop all the way to China!” As part of second watch, John would have little to do for four hours, provided they outran the Siam ship—the consequences of Mandeep’s crew not doing so were too awful to contemplate. He had heard rumors of the ferocity of the Siamese and Malays, and had no desire to find out if they were true or just sailor’s talk. Pikeham was staring forlornly back at the isl
and, clutching a notebook which appeared to be the sole item he had managed to retain. “Come, doctor,” John said, and led the gentleman scientist below decks. “You had best bunk in with us; if we’re heading into a storm, your cabin is likely to kill you as save you.” The risk of flying furniture and ornaments in well-to-do quarters aboard ships were well known, even to land dwellers like John. Pikeham numbly nodded his compliance and allowed himself to be sat on one of the simple bunks the crew slept in on rotation.
The Nannie Dee groaned and pitched, fore-aft, port-starboard, yawing and heaving, rolling and dropping many feet, all at once. An hour into the flight away from the island, it was clear that the Siamese would not catch them. An hour more and it was clear that the storm was more likely to kill them all than a hundred pirate ships. The crew huddled together as lightning lit up the dark through cracks between timbers in the old vessel. There were, of course, no lights and the crew held hands together. In the dark, there could be heard prayers in different languages, as the Muslim, Christian and Hindus begged for salvation. The reed-thin voice of Pikeham floated high as he prayed. “Hear my prayer, O Lord, Give ear to my supplications! Answer me in Your faithfulness, in Your righteousness! And do not enter into judgment with Your servant, For in Your sight no man living is righteous. For the enemy has persecuted my soul; He has crushed my life to the ground; He has made me dwell in dark places, like those who have long been dead. My heart is appalled within me!”
Little Gupta and a few others of the Mohammadean faith prayed to Allah; “Allaahumma ’Anta ’adhudee, wa ’Anta naseeree, bika ’ajoolu, wa bika ’asoolu, wa bika ’uqaatilu.” Complementing, not fighting against, the prayers of the Christian or Muslims; John, Rajeev and the rest of the crew sang the protection mantras together; “Choti mothi thamat baar ko baar bandhe paar ko paar bandhe maradhama haan bandhe jadu veer bandhe tauna tambar bandhe dith muth bandhe chori dwar bandhe bhidiya aur bagh bandhe bicchu aur saap bandhe laaeelaaee ka kot illillaha ki khaie mahammad rasulillaha ki chouki hazrat ali duhai!”
Their voices filled the belly of the ship as the hurricane screamed outside; the typhoon, the monsoon, whatever fell storm that beset them was surely aiming to kill them all with malevolent intent. On deck, Sykes piloted his ship himself. He had no god to pray to. He had lost his faith years ago when the French took his ship, his captain and crew, but he muttered the Lord’s Prayer under his breath.
Allaahumma ’Anta ’adhudee Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done Choti mothi thamat baar ko baar bandhe paar ko paar bandhe! Answer me in Your faithfulness, in Your righteousness!
The overlapping voices made all prayers the same; there was no division of faith, no thought in the minds of men as to which religion was right, or if any were true. The lightning set the mast of the Nannie Dee alight, and the winds tore it down. The waves crested fifty feet or more, tossing the clipper from wave to wave as a god would juggle planets and as a child plays at catch with his father.
Below decks the men prayed, begging the almighty, whichever name it came by, to look after their lives; or if that was not their destiny, to speed them safely to paradise. The ship pitched vertical, and the men who were not lashed to the deck tried to fly, restrained by their fellows once, but the second pitch and roll threw them all asunder.
John was taken by blackness and he could taste salt water. He could pray no more.
Chapter Five
All four sons grew to be intelligent men. They learned the holy scriptures well. They were devoted to the welfare of others. Dasaratha was finally happy. He enjoyed watching his sons grow before his eyes. He did not say it in so many words, but he did have a special place in his heart for Rama. One day the sage, or wise man, Vishvamitra came to Ayodhya to see the king. The king had great respect for him. “Greetings, oh, wise one. What brings you to my kingdom?”
The sage said, “I have come to ask you a favor.”
“How can I help? No wish is too great to ask,” the king responded.
“It pleases me to hear those words from you,” said Vishwamitra. “I have been trying to perform an important sacred rite which is again and again being interrupted by Ravana’s demons. My vows prevent me personally from fighting these demons.” The king listened intently. “I pray, Dasaratha, that you allow me to take Rama with me to protect my sacred rite.”
“But Rama is only a child. He is but sixteen years of age. I have a better idea. I shall send you my armies to battle these demons. I will even accompany you. I shall fight these demons with my own hands. But please do not take Rama. Without Rama I cannot live even a few minutes.” The king began to weep.
—Ramayana
***
Salvation
The storm had battered them for what seemed like a lifetime.
When the wheel of life turned and the new dawn came, the sailors of the Nannie Dee discovered that they had in fact been reincarnated as themselves. Though the ship was battered, missing huge chunks of hull—above the waterline, thankfully—and now mast less, the skill of Captain Sykes and Mandeep’s watch had seen them through with no loss of life. It was dawn when the battered crew and Dr. Oliver Pikeham clambered out of the bowels of the clipper. The sea was still, a millpond. There was no sign of the Siam pirates. John cast his eyes around, and found nothing except miles of sea and one large land mass to the west. Sykes and Mandeep were afore deck, conducting the third watch in patching the hull. Sykes broke off as he saw his countrymen approach.
“We may have to put into dock for a while.” The captain was at his black humor again. There was no dock for a thousand leagues, if they were lucky. Sykes looked out to where the land lay. “Fortunately, Dr. Pikeham, God has sent us enough waves to push us all the way to land.” Pikeham looked shocked.
“You mean to say, Captain Sykes, that we’re going to beach? Do you know where we are, by any chance?” Pikeham was still gray of pallor. The rough conditions below deck had been especially hard on the two Englishmen, inexperienced at sea as they were. John hoped the other sailors didn’t think him weak for vomiting as much as he had when he regained consciousness. They didn’t seem to think less of him.
“O’course we’re going to beach. The mast is down. Best thing we can do is let it happen, hope we don’t get stuck forever and cut some wood to make repairs. Cheer up, my good sir. Chance’ll be that you’ll get to do some of your sciences after all.” John was sure he saw a tug of a smile under Sykes’ thick gray mustache. It was heartening to see that despite the near destruction of his ship and the bleak conditions they now found themselves in—adrift, no propulsion and with serious repairs to be carried out—the old sea master still retained his indefatigable sense of humor—at least with the doctor around to make fun of. Pikeham, despite clearly wanting nothing more than sleep, on land preferably, managed to dredge up some energy to look downcast. He missed the loss of his apparatus as much as Sykes would miss the Nannie Dee.
It took the best part of half the morning for the clipper to slowly wash ashore. Captain Sykes ordered the rowboats to be lowered, and with lines and some heavy oar work for John and five of his crewmates, they guided the ship onto a sandbar, in places slightly submerged but broad enough for the ship to take hold. They would not be able to move again for some days, it was clear. Sykes set the crew quickly to task exploring their immediate surroundings—teams of three sailors went out into the woods, while the boats, unloaded and lighter, were rowed out to as far as the sailors dared to go to try and get to grips with the lay of the land. Clearly, the last thing Sykes wanted was to have escaped the tempest and be taken unawares by pirates once more. This time his guard was up, and with instructions to travel for only two hours in each direction before returning, six groups of men departed to mark out a territory and find fresh water. John and Rajeev set about erecting the shelters; no more than tarpaulins really, but when hitched together in the right manner made quite effective tents. They strung them up between palm trees, and drove stakes into the ground where the going underfoot was more
stable than the shingled beaches. It was while engaged in this endeavor and using Rajeev’s machete to clear some ferns away from their prospective campsite that John made his first discovery. At first he thought nothing of the rough leaved brackens. It was only slowly he realized that these plants were quite unlike those of the previous island. The plants here were larger, coarser than the delicate tropical plants he and Rajeev had cut their way through on their way to discover the pirate threat. They can’t be so many miles away, even with the storm driving them, how far could they have traveled, to see such different plants? He hacked some of the plants down, and carefully gathered some of the leaves. Rajeev shouted at him to keep working on the tents, but John waved him off, and made his way back to the beach, where Sykes and Pikeham were, trousers rolled up to the knees, unloading a rowboat of food and tools directly onto the beach. Little Gupta scurried to and fro, with Montgomery, the chef, organizing the goods into piles. John strode directly to Pikeham.
“Doctor, have you seen plants like these before?” He offered him the broad leaves. Pikeham put on his spectacles and took them, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m a botanist, Mr Lee. Of course I have seen… well, granted, I can’t quite seem to remember this one. You had better show me where this has come from.”
John led him back through the site where Rajeev took up his complaining once more, but stopped when he saw Pikeham. When John looked over his shoulder, Rajeev was now also following him to the tree line where he had been working. Plants just like the one he had cut were everywhere, shaded under the high canopy of trees. Pikeham’s mouth was open. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, by he wasn’t looking at the plants at all. John followed the line of his vision, and felt his own jaw drop.
