by Peter Greene
“Maybe if the fog would clear,” she said out loud, “we could see the top of the hill and therefore a way upwards.”
“Possibly,” said Jonathan as he concentrated on his work. “We are not the first ones here. Someone must have climbed this hill in some manner.”
But the fog was unyielding, and it continued its slow rolling as the sun, somewhere above, began to set. The grayish glow of light slowly darkened as it settled lower in the hazy sky, and soon fell the night.
In the darkness, a little scared and quite uncomfortable, the three friends and Stewie sat leaning on one another and staring out into the nothingness. The tent was low, only a few feet from the ground, and for a floor, there was only the hard stone with a single remaining tarp spread across it and a few blankets to shield them from the cold earth. Jonathan and Sean had piled the crates of food and powder close together, creating a wall of sorts. This blocked the cool wind that was almost constant. No fire had been attempted; they were all too tired to try. It was in this state that they fell into an uneasy sleep.
Sean, as usual, snoozed like the cat next to him, unperturbed and for the most part comfortable. Jonathan slept as well as could be expected, rising twice in the middle of the night to leave the tent and survey the surrounding area for danger. Seeing all was safe, he returned to the tent and an uneasy sleep. Though somewhat comforted by the closeness of her friends, Delain never nodded off for more than an hour at a time. She believed she heard animals in the night tearing at the tent and howling, and she would shake herself awake to find that they were only dreams. Eventually, she would drift off, exhaustion taking over her fear. At least by early morning, she had finally managed a few uninterrupted hours of slumber.
A bit before noon, she woke fully, though tired and a little cold. The boys were still fast asleep; however, Stewie was awake, lying in the sun at the edge of the tent floor. Rays of sunlight made their way through clouds as they rolled by and past tree branches as they waved gently in the breeze. The cat playfully swatted at the shadows as they danced on the blanket.
It looks warm in the light, Delain said to herself. I shall join him in a moment.
She crawled out from under the tent and immediately stood in the sun, warming herself. She could see that the mountain in the center of the island was barely covered in a light fog. It was quickly fading away with the aid of the hot sun, revealing areas that could not be previously observed. There were a few trees, gnarled and twisted, yet they did have some leaves upon them.
Jonathan and Sean were now awake and joined her in the study of the mountain. Eventually, the sun showed itself stronger and brighter, and before their eyes the fog was slowly melting away. Gradually, more trees were revealed; green grass grew in patches. Even birds could be seen flying about: great boobies and frigate birds, black and brown, with long, slender tail feathers that splayed outwards. As the sun continued to dissolve the fog, a wind picked up and blew from the ocean, across their camp and upwards to the hilltop. The breeze now pushed the mist away from the land until it reached the top. They gasped aloud.
There, several hundred feet above them, was revealed a massive castle made of huge, blackened, stone blocks. At least four separate levels could be seen, with parapets, balconies, and a domed enclosure. There was a chiseled stairway that almost reached directly from the fort down to their waterside camp. With a few barrels piled atop one another, they could easily reach the first step.
“The Castelo de Fogo!” said Jonathan.
“The Castle of Fire,” translated Delain.
“Well,” said Sean. “That’s a fine good-morning to ya, no matter how ya pronounce it!”
No other words needed to be spoken as the three set to rolling barrels and stacking crates with which to reach the first stone step.
After having a quick meal of hardtack and some cheese, they began the climb as the afternoon sun began reaching for the west. The going was not difficult from the point of safely ascending the stairs; it was difficult due to the effort it took to consistently climb upward. Each took a turn carrying Stewie, who simply meowed from time to time and dug a claw into an arm during some of the steeper sections. There were a few respites now and then carved into the stone steps—flat areas some three or four feet wide where the steps became large enough to allow all three to stand, or sit, side by side in relative comfort. After resting and taking a sip from a water bag that Sean had remembered to bring, they would take a deep breath, transfer the cat, and resume the climb.
“And I thought climbing the ratlines was difficult. I am completely done!” exclaimed Sean as they rounded a corner only to find yet another series of ascending steps in front of them.
“Just a bit longer, Sean,” Jonathan said. “I am sure it will be worth it.”
“Do you think the castle is . . . is . . . occupied?” asked Delain as she froze in her tracks. This stopped the boys for a minute. “As much as I desire improved accommodations,” she continued, “and maybe even a better view, I don’t want to have to fight for it!”
Jonathan and Sean glanced at each other and simultaneously drew their swords.
“Just to be safe,” Jonathan said.
“I feel better already,” said Sean with a smile.
It had been just a little over an hour since the beginning of their climb when Jonathan, Sean, and Delain had finally scaled every one of the steps that were hewn into the stone walls of the mountain. The sun was beginning to fade and all were aware that within an hour, it would set. The wispy clouds were already turning from white to slightly orange. As they cautiously peeked over the edge of the last step, the amber sunbeams fell softly on the hard stone of the towering Castle of Fire. A few birds swirled past the outer walls, seemingly too scared to light upon the shadowy structure, let alone enter the few arched openings that were set in the third story of the fortress. The massive outer curtain made of huge wooden timbers surrounded the castle at its base. The inner curtain rose at least fifty feet above them, dark and mystifying. The castle was certainly strong enough to repel all but the most concentrated cannon fire.
Could a ship’s guns even scratch it? thought Jonathan as he stared in wonder.
On the corner of the topmost level, facing the sea below, was an impressive part of the castle, a cathedral-like structure with a domed roof made of lighter-colored rock and crowned with a stone spike and a cross. The sun was now turning the castle itself almost red in color, and along the uppermost wall where large notches had been made, the stones glowed from the light as if on fire.
“Something is missing,” Jonathan whispered.
“Whatever do you mean?” asked Delain quietly.
“I am not an expert on castles,” said Jonathan, “but that tower and those notches up there—”
“You mean the watchtower and the embrasures?” asked Delain.
“I assume so,” said Jonathan. “What are they for?”
“Mr. Tupper and I studied castles last year, and I recall the fact that castles were built for defense, primarily. The watchtower, on the corner, was used for viewing. Those tall thin openings there are used for arrows.”
“The view must be extraordinary from the top!” said Sean.
“Then inside the belly of the beast we go!” suggested Jonathan.
They took the last few steps remaining, legs still aching but curiosity driving them onward. Finally they stood before a massive wooden door set in the strong timbers that made up the castle’s outer wall. It was slightly off-hinge and sitting askew.
“Let us take a peek inside,” said Jonathan, and all cautiously took hold of the edge of the door. Unfortunately, rust and age had done more than its part in securing the entrance. No matter how hard they pushed and pulled, the door barely moved. After an hour of effort, Jonathan finally suggested that they use their heads instead of their backs.
“Let’s try to pry the hinges with something. There may be a decent angle at which to apply pressure.”
Delain found a sturdy pi
ece of lumbar that upon further investigation, was actually an old battle pike of sorts. With some effort and a variety of approaches, they manipulated the pike as a pry bar, and after a half an hour or so of strenuous work, the door was shifted aside just enough to allow them access.
Inside the castle, it was almost completely dark, with only some faint sunlight high above them streaking in from an unseen opening. They felt about with their hands as their eyes were unable to see anything in detail. They remained quiet.
“I feel something like a twig or small branch,” said Delain softly after a few moments. “Oh, there are many of them about the floor.”
“A coconut?” asked Sean as his hands bumped into an unseen object.
The light from above suddenly intensified as the sun shifted and the room immediately became bathed in a deep red light, as if a great lamp had been lit. Through the crimson haze, all could see they were in a large room with a ceiling over twenty feet high, containing many archways and stairways leading to halls and rooms with closed wooden doors. There were a few tables and chairs about, mostly smashed and ruined. As their eyes adjusted further, the red glow of fading sunlight now revealed that what they had believed to be branches and coconuts on the floor were clearly exposed, their true nature revealed.
“Bones!” exclaimed Sean in a hoarse whisper.
“Skulls!” said Delain, “Oh! And we touched them! I touched them!”
They all shuddered and shook uncontrollably for a moment.
“Ugh. Dead people,” Delain said. “Quite unsettling.”
“Better dead than alive, Miss Dowdeswell!” said Sean.
“Totally harmless,” added Jonathan as he looked about. “There was a battle here. See the arrows and swords?”
Delain finally realized that, despite being eerily disgusting, the dead were quite harmless. To prove this, Sean stood and comically performed a mock fight with one of the larger skeletons, that included much tripping, hand-to-hand combat and in the end, an easy victory for the Irishman.
“Victory! He was a tough one, but just a bit stiff in his moves, eh Jonny boy?” chuckled Sean as he held his sword above his head in an exaggerated pose.
Laughing now, the three inspected the grotesque scene before them. Jonathan figured that possibly a hundred or more skeletons lay about and many weapons of many types.
“What if the victors are still here?” asked Delain.
“If they were, they would certainly have cleaned this mess,” said Jonathan. “These bones have been left to rot, and I assume it takes a long time for them to reach this point of decay. I am almost positive we are alone.”
“I can make sure,” said Sean. He jumped up on the top of a half-broken table and called out.
“Long live Ireland and the glory of the Emerald Isle!”
“Sean, wait!” Jonathan said, but it was too late. The call could not be taken back.
All waited for something to happen, possibly for a host of ghosts to drift in on an eerie green mist to take them prisoner, or for some strange witch to fly from the shadows, casting spells and scaring them half to death. However, after a few moments and a few more calls, nothing happened, neither sound nor stir. Now feeling somewhat braver than before, they explored the large hall. No recent signs of activity were found—no smoldering fires, no leftover food, no footsteps on the dusty ground. They were truly alone.
Each of them chose a door or a stairway to explore, always calling out to one another from time to time to make sure they were safe and to boost their courage. Sean searched upwards to the second level after ascending the main stone staircase in the first hall. Delain remained on the first level, though she shrieked often as that seemed to be where most of the skeletons had found their final resting place. But as dim as it was, the light was brightest in the main hall, so she chose to continue on.
Jonathan had also taken the main staircase, and after leaving Sean on the second floor, he continued upwards to the third and fourth. Mostly there were rooms within the stone castle that contained nothing but broken furniture, rotting tapestry, and a few pots and pans. Now and again a small mouse was found and the occasional ancient warrior in his decomposed state. Anything of value had been taken by whoever had been the victor of the last battle, and nothing but useless scraps of the lost occupant’s possessions remained.
Not much treasure in this castle, Jonathan thought.
He continued onward to the topmost floor and after climbing a ladder he found himself outside, standing in the center of what he could only describe as the “deck” of the castle. Like the deck of the Danielle, it was about the same size, yet not made of planked wood. There were no masts, of course, and no guns about the edges. Along one side, there was a building, long and narrow, with many doors. Each was secured with a rusty chain and a keyed lock.
“I wonder what could be in there?” said Jonathan to himself, but after shaking and straining the chains, he ascertained that without a prybar, the locks were too strong to break. He turned his attention to the low walls along the edge of the roof. The notches he saw from below along the edge appeared larger than he had originally thought, each notch looking like a giant’s tooth set in an immense lower jaw. There in the corner was the domed watchtower he had seen from below, and as he approached the structure he noticed a small set of stairs that rose several feet higher than the roof of the castle.
“I’ll bet the view from there is incredible,” he said aloud, and walked quickly to the watchtower, up the steps, and to the short stone wall that was built at the edge.
Jonathan gasped for breath as he beheld the view. Before and below him was the strait of the Cape of Good Hope and beyond that, the southern tip of Africa, with the entire continent stretching forever to the north. All was bathed in the redness of the sunset, but most notably the castle that seemed to glow as if the stone itself was on fire. He could now understand what the Captain had said about how the castle had gotten its name, the Castle of Fire.
In this place, he was convinced that the curve of the horizon could be seen. Ahead sat the Dark Continent crowned with towering white clouds trimmed in orange and gold. They seemed a little less unreachable, as Jonathan was surely a thousand feet above the level of the sea. For a full ten minutes he stared in awe at the view, spinning about to look in all directions. Finally he whispered, when he could find his voice, “Harrison was right. It is quite a view. As if in heaven itself!”
Eventually, Jonathan made his way back down to the third level and continued his search of rooms and hallways. Upon opening the heavy wooden door of one room near the center, he found a large space that would suit them well as a center of operations. He noticed a long, sturdy table in the middle of the room and a few unbroken chairs. There were also two doors along a back wall, possibly leading to closets or small work rooms.
Jonathan opened the first door on the rear wall. Inside on a worktable was a pile of tools. Many were large brushes and files of various sizes. There were also long poles that looked like the rods used aboard the Danielle to clean out the guns before firing, though some had spikes of a sort, bristling at the tip. Probably used to clean something, Jonathan thought as he started to the next door.
In the second room, he saw an opening high on the back wall that let in just enough light to illuminate a large table to one side. Along the walls, Jonathan could see small boxes of nails, wooden pegs, and other carpentry supplies. Saws and awls were also present in various sizes. This was obviously a carpenter’s room.
Though he and Sean could sleep in the main room, what of Delain? A lady required her privacy and this carpenter’s room would make an excellent chamber for her.
After a few more minutes inspecting the contents of the last room, he made his way downward to the main hall and waited a few minutes for Delain and Sean to appear.
“I explored this entire first level,” Delain said. “There are many empty rooms and an old kitchen, but also a large sleeping area for the soldiers who must have been alive h
ere at one time. There were almost one hundred beds with straw mats that have been mostly eaten by mice.”
The word “mice” seemed to appeal to Stewie, who woke up from his slumber by the main door and scampered deeper into the castle.
“I guess Stewie has a job after all,” Sean said. “The level I searched was mostly empty—no one home. I found a few storage areas and a small forge. Whoever built this fort had to be self-sufficient. I tried to open the doors to a few storage rooms, but, well, each has a rusty chain and lock, so a long bar would be great. We will need all three of us to pry them open.”
Jonathan told them of his find in the upper levels and agreed that they should move their supplies in as soon as possible.
“It will take a long time to get the gunpowder up those steps,” Sean said. “Must we haul it all the way to the top? At about twenty pounds for each barrel, it will take weeks. Maybe we just leave it be and retrieve what we need when we need it?”
“I think we will need it all and very soon, I hope,” said Jonathan.
“Why is that?” asked Delain.
“Remember when I mentioned that something was missing?” Jonathan said.
“Something besides a warm bed and some of Claise’s curry stew?” suggested Sean.
“Follow me,” Jonathan said, and they made their way up to the topmost level. Jonathan led them out to the watchtower and allowed them to take in the panoramic view of the world.
“Lord,” said Sean. “One could see the entire English Fleet from up here!”
“Or a French one,” added Jonathan.
Eventually, after much pointing, gasping, and even cheering in joy over the amazing sight, Jonathan pointed to the embrasures, the notches in the parapet walls.
“The gaps in this wall, you see?” Jonathan continued, pointing. “Why would someone building the fort leave the walls so? Something is missing and I now know what.”
