by Peter Greene
At one point, after reaching the southernmost tip of Africa, the water stirred most unusually, and though not as active as in a great storm, there was still a warning of sorts in the sickly, gloom-green water: Beware! A ship had best be careful, for I will not make your voyage through these waters agreeable. As if by command of the sea, an eerie haze rolled in from the continent and soon obscured their view of all except the few hundred feet dead ahead.
Midshipman Spears was actually now more active than he had been since the duel at Ribeira Grande. He busied himself with his assigned tasks and watches, and Jonathan even noted that he refrained from annoying almost everyone. Even Sean seemed to escape his ridicule. Presently he was attending to the larger jolly boat, tightening its tarp and securing the ropes that held it firmly to the deck. Jonathan considered approaching Spears and trying to converse in a friendly manner. It would be difficult, but Jonathan believed it should be attempted. Maybe a friendship could arise between the two of them, as seemingly had been done with Lane, who now ate and worked with Jonathan and Sean whenever possible and had become particularly fond of Garvey. The two shared stories and jokes, and even had maneuvered themselves onto the same gun crew. Garvey remained the eyes and Lane lit the beast they both called the Dragon, presumably in honor of the Captain and his more colorful and active tempers.
“Hullo, Midshipman Spears,” Jonathan said as he approached, “is the day to your liking?”
Spear looked up for an instant, then quickly turned his eyes to the deck. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like “agreeable.”
“It seems I am to be put ashore once again, missing all the fun,” Jonathan said.
“I hear that as well. Good luck to you,” Spears answered and finished lashing the final rope to the tarp.
“I was wondering, Wayne, if you might be available for some lobscouse this evening. Harrison is a fine cook and has assured me it will be well worth it.”
Spears looked up for an instant, then again hid his eyes and murmured something along the lines of “Can’t. Busy.” And with that he went hurrying aft to check the smaller of the jolly boats.
Sean had watched the whole exchange from the first yard of the mainmast, only a few feet above Jonathan’s head. He could tell something wasn’t right about Spears, and at the same time, he welcomed the fact that his one-time thorn had seemingly been clipped.
“Tis a mystery, Jonathan,” Sean said. “And I still don’t trust him.”
“Something is amiss, Sean,” Jonathan said as he watched Spears attend to the tarp of the small boat. “Maybe it is just his realization of what he has brought upon himself. Maybe he is trying to sort it out.”
“And maybe,” Sean said as he returned to his duty of lashing sails to the yard, “the snake has one more bite left. Never let your guard down. That one still has some teeth.”
At that point, Miss Delain Dowdeswell appeared on deck, accompanied by Midshipman Lane.
“It seems, Mr. Moore,” she said as they approached, “that it is Mr. Lane’s duty to complete my tour of the ship today. Were you assigned another stowaway?”
Jonathan chuckled a bit, then became stern in a comical way. “Miss Dowdeswell, though Mr. Lane is escorting you, there are many watching your movements. Stredney and Garvey up in the crow’s nest, Holtz next to the Captain there,” Jonathan said pointing aft. “Even Smith and Jones by the deck guns are watching you closely. Not only are you a young woman onboard—”
“Most consider a woman onboard bad luck, may I point out,” added Lane.
“A capital point,” said Jonathan, “and even more so the fact that technically you are a criminal of the highest degree, a stowaway. They can be dangerous and even unpredictable. Are those characteristics of yours that you deny?”
“Certainly!” exclaimed Delain, alarmed. “I am most undoubtedly not a criminal nor a dangerous person!”
“Aye, but ya notice Miss Dowdeswell didn’t say she was not unpredictable!” said Sean as he continued his work from above.
“Oh!” said Delain, noticing Sean for the first time. “Well, I must admit that I am somewhat . . . impulsive.”
This sent the boys laughing hysterically as Mr. Harrison approached with Steward.
“Have we missed the show?” Harrison said. “What is so funny?”
“Mr. Harrison,” Delain said. “As you notice I am the only one not laughing. Is it true that women aboard are considered unlucky?”
“Yes, by the crew at least,” he answered.
“Is it also true,” she continued, “that many are watching me because I am a criminal and a stowaway?”
“Hmm,” Harrison said as he thought a moment. “I would think so. I have not been assigned that duty, but I am sure the Captain takes your offense most seriously indeed.”
“Do you think I am dangerous and impulsive?”
“I am sure the pirates aboard the Fiero believed you were dangerous, so I would have to agree. Also, you do fire a deck gun with amazing accuracy. The fact that you have stowed away aboard this ship may lead one to believe you are impulsive as well.”
Delain seemed shocked as the others roared with laughter. It was Steward who broke the mood.
“Now, now, little lady,” he said in a fatherly tone. “The boys are having a bit o’ fun with ya. Don’t mind them! Brutes at the core and no manners b’sides. I am sure the only one really watching you is Mr. Moore, and he has been doing that since, oh, last October I believe, when he first met ya!”
This sent even Delain laughing. All joined in except Jonathan who merely turned his head away to stare overboard, embarrassed.
“Land ho!” came the call from above. It was Garvey from the crow’s nest. “Isla Sello! One point off the starboard bow, Captain!”
The Captain immediately ordered a reduction in sail. As the Danielle slowed to only a few knots, the haze cleared ahead and a massive darkness slowly appeared in the gloom. All on deck could see Isla Sello rise from the waves, its jagged coastline fraught with white foam as angry waves splashed and churned at its base. There was no beach, no inviting palms or fruit trees. Just a hard-looking, sheer black, volcanic mass that rose from the surrounding dark green water. It continued upwards almost two hundred feet, narrowing as it reached into the low clouds, its topmost point hidden from view. There could be seen in the water the triangular fins of great sharks.
“Now that appears foreboding!” said Steward unnecessarily.
“Are you all packed, Miss Dowdeswell?” asked Harrison, his tone now sad and serious. “The Captain will need you and your escorts to disembark immediately. Meet us on the port side by the small jolly boat in a few moments. Lane, assist with Miss Dowdeswell’s luggage, if you will.”
Delain took one last look at Isla Sello, turned, and slowly made her way with Lane to the Captain’s cabin. She now realized this was no longer a simple and enjoyable adventure. Her stowing away had now turned a lark into a possibly dire situation. She and her friends could be marooned on the island, only to await their eventual death from starvation, or worse. And it was her doing that now placed Jonathan and Sean in peril.
As the ship’s bell rang twice, signaling one hour past the midday watch, Jonathan, Sean, and Delain were standing at the port side of HMS Danielle, watching the island just a few hundred feet away across a dangerous sea. Their supplies were being loaded on the boat that was hanging securely off the yard-tackles. Smith and Jones and a few other hands attended to the proper procedures as the Captain, Gorman, and Harrison looked on. Even Koonts was there, and Dr. Hoffman, giving last-minute advice to Jonathan and Sean.
“Stay away from three-stemmed plants, Sean,” Dr. Hoffman said. “Only eat fish that are bland in color that you catch fresh. Cook them thoroughly! There are many snoek to be caught here, though they have a poisonous bite—be careful!”
“Find the Castelo de Fogo, Jonathan,” said Koonts. “It looks to be completely shrouded in clouds at the moment, but it is there. Explore it thoroug
hly and carefully. Then survey the island and look for hazards to avoid. The weather is cooling off rapidly. In a month it may be bitterly cold!”
“Winter begins in June south of the equator,” explained Harrison. “Let’s hope we are united long before then.”
“Take this olive oil and this pan,” Claise said as he approached. “And here are some simple spices: salt, pepper, and some lime rind. Always good with fish. I also have a few potatoes as well in this sack. They will keep for a few weeks if kept dry and away from nibbling creatures.”
Jonathan hugged Claise, who seemed near tears, and thanked him for the supplies. Lane appeared and handed Jonathan his small cooking stove that he had received as a Christmas present from Steward.
“Don’t forget this. And best of luck, my friends,” he said.
“Mr. Moore,” the Captain called after he had inspected the boat and made sure all supplies were aboard, “a word with you. Sean and Miss Dowdeswell, time to board.”
Delain and Sean took their places in the jolly boat, Stewie tucked deep in the folds of the blankets Sean was holding. Harrison boarded the small craft and instructed the handful of crewmen to man the oars.
Jonathan approached the Captain and stood at attention. Walker turned to the boy and bent down slightly, to look at him eye to eye.
“Jonathan, firstly, let me assure you that the island is safe. The birds nest here because there are no predators. Just stay out of the water. There are many sharks. Great whites, the most dangerous kind.”
“Yes, sir,” Jonathan said bravely.
“Secondly, you have enough supplies to last you months if need be, though I suspect your stay will be much less than that. Eat the perishables first—the fruit, the salted pork, hardtack. But save the limes and use only a little slice every few days. There are fish lines and hooks as well. We have included many lengths of rope, a saw, hammer and nails, some spare lumber if you need to build a semi-permanent structure. A boat will not be left. There is nowhere near which to row, and the continent is, well, less than friendly.”
Walker turned his gaze to the island. He was not one to second-guess himself; however, this seemed barely the lesser of two evils. Kept aboard, Delain could be killed by cannon fire or drown if the Danielle was sunk. Set ashore on this island, she could starve to death or become injured. However, if the Danielle were defeated, it was more than probable that other ships would pass by; however. . . . He wrestled with the idea of calling off the entire plan and giving up on the mission altogether.
“As soon as you can, cautiously, and I repeat, cautiously explore the Castelo de Fogo. In English, that means “Castle of Fire.” If you are fortunate to have a clear afternoon, watch the castle as the sun sets. You will see how it got its name. I have seen it only a few times, and even then, it has been mostly covered with fog and clouds. Tales tell that it is a large castle and is partly carved out of the stone that makes up the mountain in the center of the island. It is, as Mr. Harrison says, quite a sight.”
“I will explore it, sir,” said Jonathan, wondering what all the mystery seemed to be about the castle. From his point of view aboard the ship he could see nothing, only a bit of a wall possibly, when the clouds shifted just so.
“Jonathan, here is my plan. Mind well,” Walker said. “We will search for the French around the southern tip of the continent and possibly up the eastern coast for a few hundred miles at the most. Once we spot them, we will turn and lure them back here. Hopefully, we will engage the frigates once we have them in the strait.”
“If you can disable them,” Jonathan asked, “will you go after the merchants?”
“It will be difficult,” said Walker. “Engaging with two ships at once is tricky and takes time. Without the help of our sister ships, it will be difficult. However, we will try.”
“I wish, sir, that I could do something to help!” exclaimed Jonathan.
“You can, Mr. Moore. If you see any English ships, signal by starting a fire and inform them of the plan. Have them wait past the tip of land there,” he said pointing.
Jonathan turned and saw a glimpse of the mainland and a protruding piece jutting out into the sea. Certainly ships could hide there, then, with a keen eye, pounce at the right moment, coming to the aid of the Danielle.
“One last item, Mr. Moore. Today is the twenty-sixth of April. We should catch sight of the French and return for you within the week. If for some reason we don’t return, save yourselves. Look for an English ship; however, don’t wait too long. If we do not meet again in one month . . . we are lost.”
The weight of the situation now hit Jonathan hard. This could be the last time he ever saw Captain Walker and all his friends from the Danielle. If marooned on Isla Sello and left to starve, it would also mean the death of Sean, Delain, and himself.
“I will use the gunpowder and fire starters to create an explosion to signal other ships,” Jonathan said slowly, now staring at the ground.
“Yes,” said Walker, forcing a smile. “That should be easily done with Sean. He knows full well how to create a bomb. Good luck to you, Mr. Moore. It has been a pleasure to serve with you in His Majesty’s Navy.”
“Thank you, Captain Walker, for all you have done for me,” answered Jonathan in a quivering voice. “If for some reason I do not return to England, and you do, would you please tell my father I love him so?”
The Captain nodded slowly, then put Jonathan aboard the jolly boat. Hands lowered the craft into the churning sea and, with a fine salute from the Royal Naval officers, Gorman, and all marines, the jolly boat disappeared into the mist.
The Castle of Fire
18
The Castle of Fire
On the north side of Isla Sello, the jolly boat crew found an excellent landing area: a large rock shelf that had a nearly flat top rising above the water almost two feet. Once the boat was secured, Harrison commanded the others to move the supplies higher and inland, away from the sea, as it was important to secure food and other goods from a rising tide. As a final bit of advice, Harrison told them all, “Remember—your mind is your best asset. It has gotten your through much. Rely upon it.”
Jonathan, Sean, and Delain stood on the low rock shelf, dressed in their heavy woolen coats and gloves. Even Delain wore a Dani cap, looking much like a young seaman, except for her long dress, now stained and slightly damaged. Jonathan wore his midshipman’s uniform; however, the bicorn hat was exchanged for a woolen cap. Stewie had his own fur coat, of course. He nervously looked to the water, amazed and frightened by the fins of sharks that could be seen just a few yards offshore. After a long moment, they waved a final goodbye to the jolly boat and turned their backs to the sea.
The weather was cold and the fog remained about them, still covering the upper portion of the small mountain in the center of the island, veiling the Castelo de Fogo. As they surveyed their surroundings, Jonathan glanced up at the shrouded crest and wondered about the size and appearance of the castle. However, for now, he tried to concentrate on his command of the shore party, as much as one could command one’s best friend and Miss Delain Dowdeswell. Maybe Stewie would be easy to control, and that made him chuckle inside.
“What is our first order of business, Jonathan?” asked Sean as he patted Stewie on the head.
“We need to explore our surroundings,” Jonathan replied, “and find our way up to the castle, though I still can see none of it through the clouds.”
“I would prefer if we stayed together as a group,” added Delain, and all agreed.
Slowly, the three friends began a clockwise search of the island, looking for useful items and possibly a way to scale the mountain and climb to the castle. The terrain was rough at times and the dark, volcanic rock cut their hands or scraped their knees as they scrambled up and down the many formations and cliff walls. The island had very few trees upon it, and some small plants sprouted from between cracks in the many boulders. The only living things they saw were the many birds on the leeward, or ca
lmer, side of the island, and in the water, the sharks that seemed to follow them as they made their way about. After two hours of searching they had returned to the landing area, discovering very little that would assist them in any way.
“Well,” Sean said, “there is nothing around the base of this mountain. No shelter, no water, no stairs, and no anything. Just rock. And what can you do with rock?”
“Let us stay here for tonight,” Jonathan said, “and build a tent for shelter.”
With Sean’s assistance, they strung rope between tree stumps and boulder edges, then slowly lashed tarpaulin to their makeshift rigging.
“If we can make a house out of broken barrels and crates in an alley,” said Jonathan laughing, “we can make a tent out of all this!“ Eventually the rope, tarp, and supply boxes left by the crew of the Danielle came to resemble a tent.
Delain sat still on a nearby boulder in silence. The omnipresent fog unnerved her as did the unseen presence of the Castle of Fire, just looming over her head. She shivered and couldn’t help but think that this predicament had been all her own making. If she hadn’t stowed away, Jonathan and Sean would be aboard the Danielle with their friends, doing what they loved. However, they would be in danger aboard the ship or on this island. It was no matter now. They were all here at this point and must make the best of it.
As Jonathan and Sean continued to wrestle with the shelter, Stewie sought out Delain to curl up in her lap as she sat. She looked about for something she could do to assist the boys, though they assured her the final construction of their shelter was well in hand. In time, she looked upwards at the mist surrounding the mountaintop.
