Journey into the Deep

by Guy S. Stanton III

  “Surely you’re not the only one of your people to see the similarity for the injustice that it is?” I exclaimed.

  His eyes were sad, “Some days it feels like it. No, there are others, but not enough and not the influential ones at that. I’m not guiltless in this. I was much the same as the majority of my people for my uncaring attitude of the lot in life of a slave, until Mandy came along that is. It’s not right and as you’ve said something has to be done about it. My Mandy deserves the right to look someone in the eye as an equal without being struck for it or to be pulled down and gang raped by some men who have grown tired of what their wives have to offer and see nothing wrong with crushing the life of a slave to suit their own lusts! I do not want that for my granddaughter. She deserves better! They all deserve something better, just as my people did when we were slaves.”

  I studied him for a few moments. There was no denying his sincere passion on the matter, but how to make it all come about?

  “So how do you propose the slaves should escape?” I asked.

  His eyes sparkled, “By the same way we go to sea to kill the whales. Escape on the whaling ships and then ditch the ships at sea.”

  “Won’t your people just build new ships?” I asked.

  He smiled, “Building a ship requires a lot of work. By the time they’ve completed one ship I think they’ll rethink their strategy and perhaps start doing all the work for themselves instead of attempting to chase down slaves on the open water. In addition to that I’m not sure my people would be very good at building a boat to begin with. They rely on the slaves, who have the passed down knowledge to do all the skilled labor required of shipbuilding.”

  I leaned back in my chair, “It would seem that you have it all figured out then. Tell me how you propose to distract your people long enough for the slaves to escape to the ships? Not to mention how such an event could be coordinated, as it would need to be in order to be a success.”

  He smiled broadly, “I was hoping that you could take care of those details for me. I have after all given you the keys.” He said, as he tossed a ring of keys across the table at me, which I caught one-handed.

  “All the slaves are locked up underground at the end of the work hours on the south side of the island.”

  I turned the ring of keys over and over in my hands as I contemplated strategy.

  “What’s our cover story for being here?” I asked.

  The Governor got up stiffly and said, “Why I’m sure being the adventurers that you are that you’ll want to investigate the ruins in the forest. Not to mention letting it drop of your willingness to open up travel between the surface and this place for the purpose of trade. I think both will be quite plausible reasons for continued existence here for the time being. Well now I shall leave you to plan a mass escape and rejoin your crew as you have much to think about.”

  He started to leave but then stopped, “If you do go to the forest to look over the ruins be careful of the Salria.”

  “The Salria?” I asked.

  “Yes, they are a spur off group from my people. They went back to the old tribal ways and among other things they practice the superstitious arts as well as black magic. Slave children who have wondered too close to the forest have gone missing before so be careful. They are a strange people and we do not have much to do with them or they us.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” I said and he nodded and walked away.

  I fingered the keys again. Was all this an elaborate trap of some kind?

  I got up and walked back to the room I had come through to reach this veranda and slammed the door shut; only I was still on the veranda. I slipped quietly across the veranda and stepped behind a pillar and waited.

  The girl walked by and I cleared my throat slightly. At the noise she spun around ready to fight or run whichever the case may be.

  “Easy! I’m not going to hurt you, okay.”

  Her breathing slowed a bit and she nodded shakily.

  She gazed at me in fear, even as she did her best to cover up how afraid of me she was.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you to answer some questions for me.” I said softly in as nonthreatening a manner as I could manage.

  She swallowed hard before nodding. She had a look to her of extreme apprehension as to what I might ask her about.

  “Mandy was the Governor telling me the truth about everything?”

  Her eyes darted off to the side and she said something low that I couldn’t hear.

  I tipped her face back to me with a finger gently and said, “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Mostly.” She said a little louder than before.

  “What did he lie about Mandy?”

  She tried to move her face away again, but stopped to meet my eyes as I spoke, “He’s not your grandfather is he?”

  “He never had a son.” She confirmed softly.

  I judged her to be about eighteen years old. Some sins have a way of working on an individual as well as being hard to admit to.

  “Has your father the Governor ever made mention of his plans to you before?”

  “No, he hasn’t.”

  “Is it common knowledge that he’s your father?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I held the keys up to her that the Governor had given me and her eyes got big.

  I was going on instinct here, “I want you to hold onto these for me Mandy. Don’t use them unless you have to. Have you ever seen a firework go off Mandy?”

  She nodded.

  “When you see something like a firework go off head for the west side of the island with all the other slaves, until you reach the beach.”

  Her eyes grew wide in alarm, “But we would have to go through the forest where the Salria live!”

  “I know. It’ll be unexpected of you and we need the unexpected if there’s to be a chance in getting away.”

  “But what about the ships in the eastern harbor? How will we make it without them?” Mandy asked puzzled.

  “The ships are a death trap. They’ll expect you to go for them and many of you would be killed. I don’t think your father is as mindful to the fate of the other slaves as he is for your livelihood.”

  She nodded affirming my character read of her father.

  I bent down and pulled my boot pistol out. Her eyes got big again and I reached out to pull one of her hands open and place the small pistol into it.

  “I’ve seen some guys caring around old pistols. This is a pistol too only much more modern. It works the same way though. All you have to do is pull the trigger right here. See this little lever here? You need to flip this back until the red dot is showing or it won’t fire. The gun will fire nine times. All you have to do is disengage the safety and press the trigger. Okay?”

  She nodded even as tears ran down her face. She slipped the small pistol into a pocket in her dress under her apron and then she surprised me by hugging me hard for a long moment.

  Awkwardly I returned the hug, until she stepped back from me and said as she wiped at her tears, “Thank you! Even if we don’t succeed and we all die or something worse happens to us I thank you for the hope that you’ve given me!”

  She hurried past me then and I made my way back through the rooms to the stairs and the crowd below. Nonchalantly I made my way back down the spiral staircase the subject of intense scrutiny by all.

  “Everything all right?” Matt asked worriedly.

  “Yes, couldn’t be better actually.”

  I glanced around at our interested spectators and asked, “Anyone here an authority on the ancient ruins in the forest?”

  No one volunteered anything so I decided to sweeten the deal.

  “Who’d like to go visit the surface and see the sky, as well as the latest fashions?”

  I’d said that last part for the women, who instantly joined into a muttering mob pushing their men forward toward us. I had neglected to tell the southern bells decked out in lacy petticoats and brocaded
dresses that the current fashion on the surface pretty much consisted of a slutty T-shirt and a pair of jeans that looked like they’d been pressed molded onto them. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them though.

  Apparently a lot of them liked the idea of going topside. I might even share that desire with them some day, but the reality was that none of us were going topside, unless God willed it so.

  Captain Rogers had made it back, but he’d used the Orlanis Star device. I didn’t have the device for one and for two I wouldn’t use it even if I did have it. I owed my allegiance elsewhere so we were figuratively stuck down here. Not that we had much time left for us to worry about our exile from the surface.

  I didn’t give us much of a chance in surviving the odds against us down here. Hopefully we could accomplish something notable with what little time we may have left to us though. That was my prayer anyway.

  Chapter Nine

  Into the Forest

  These trees were truly massive. I craned my head back to look up the length of one. I couldn’t see the end of it.

  It was quiet in the darkened forest. The forest floor was devoid of plant growth save for a smattering of ferns growing here and there.

  It was too dark of a forest for my tastes as I preferred more diversity in terms of habitat. The trees were of a kind I had never seen before and they appeared to be devoid of any use other than as something to feed a fire or build a ship out of.

  It seemed a rather lifeless forest. Impressive, but cold was how this forest registered to me.

  Matt was having a field day combing over the remnants of the long bygone past that were upthrust here and there along the forest floor. The resilient architecture was made out of the same iron compound as the Pillar of Delphi.

  Atlantis the city had not survived the cataclysmic event of the great flood and its fall through the earth’s crust. Thankfully that meant none of its supposed giant offspring had either.

  Our guides had been with us for several hours now and they looked hesitant to go any further into the forest with us. They were shifting from foot to foot and becoming startled by every little noise that sounded out in the forest around us. Finally they refused to go no further and actually left us their guideless in the forest.

  I watched them go and with them our cover for being here. We needed witnesses to verify our interest in the ruins in order to allay suspicions of our presence here.

  I was debating about what to do when a feeling I didn’t care for crept over me like someone walking across my grave and I turned around to see a man standing there not ten feet away. His smile of welcome did nothing to relax my tensed up muscles. Where had he come from?

  I glanced at Jim to see him as tensed up as I was by the sudden appearance of the man. This man by his dress must be of the Salria people that the Governor had warned me about. He wore nothing like those in the colony did.

  The members of the Salria people seemed to have gone back to their tribal traditions entirely. Was human sacrifice one of those reawakened traditions?

  Looking at the man I could believe it of him. There was something innately cruel behind the smiling eyes that gazed upon us knowingly.

  He spoke, “Don’t worry, none of you are children so you are safe from the evil clutches of the Salria.” He tipped his head back and laughed uproariously at his own words, as if in great jest at a joke that the rest of us had missed the punch line for.

  I glanced around at the others. Christina looked about to run for it. Matt looked beyond tensed and I saw Jim’s finger tense on the trigger of the sawed off shotgun he still held in one hand.

  I mouthed out, “Play it cool!” And surprisingly masks of calmness fell over all three of their faces, even Christina’s. She certainly was a tough girl.

  I turned back to the stranger just as he finished from his hearty mirth that chilled rather than warmed me.

  I forced a genial looking smile, “It would seem that we’ve lost our guides to superstition. I don’t suppose that you would mind taking over for them would you?” I asked.

  The smile never diminished on the other man’s face. He was almost as big as Jim. “Nothing would please me more! Come I will show you the wonders of the past.”

  He turned and started off through the forest and I followed after him. The others hesitated for a moment, but then followed along reluctantly.

  The man I followed was unquestionably under the influence of evil as just being near him disquieted my soul. I was confident though that if need be by faith in Jesus I was more than a match to bring him down if it had to be done.

  I wanted to see what this forest may still hold of Atlantis and to see if it was going to be a threat to my plans.

  Our mysterious guide led us for more than an hour through the forest. Here and there a bit of architecture would poke up through the forest floor, but nothing major. All of a sudden the canopy of the forest opened up and there were a lot of moss covered ruins to be seen.

  Matt walked past the whole group as if irresistibly drawn to the antiquity of the past. The rest of us followed him.

  There were sections of the ruins that still stood several stories tall. It was easy to see from just this one part of the ruins that the city had to of been vast and quite built up in elevation.

  A half hour passed during which Matt hadn’t ceased to stop babbling about this or that in terms of archaeological significance. Truly I could care less, but the sight of something so ancient was fascinating.

  I walked into an alcove of sorts and was immediately drawn up short by the sight of the stone altar in the middle of the place. I approached it slowly as did Jim and Christina.

  “What’s the attraction guys? I……” Matt’s voice trailed off; as he caught up with us and saw the altar made of stones.

  The stones of the altar were stained red as was the ground around it. Jim stooped down and picked up a small bone out of the dust and glanced at me in quiet horror for the bone was that of a child’s.

  I’d seen enough, it was time to leave!

  I turned to go when something stung my neck. I reached up to my neck and my hand came away with a wooden dart no bigger than a toothpick. I stumbled against the altar as the world seemed to slide away from me.

  Christina had already fallen to the ground and Matt was on his knees about to join her. Big Jim reeled back and forth on his feet as he tried to bring the shotgun up. All I could hear was laughing.

  Blinking my eyes I saw through my blurry vision members of the Salria all around us laughing uproariously.

  Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I lambasted myself with deep self-reproach-meant.

  I’d really blown it this time!

  My desperate grip on the altar let loose and I was falling toward the bloodstained ground with the sound of laughter ringing in my ears.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Flynn continued to sit against the bulkhead shotgun at the ready to repel boarders if need be. His audience had shrunken considerably, but there remained a few in attendance on the dock for him to continue staring down.

  If they thought they were going to make a slave out of him then they had another thing coming. It was called buckshot and he’d see that they got plenty of it in ample supply.

  He glanced off to the headland of the island beyond the dock worriedly. It had been a long time. Too long.

  Something had gone wrong ashore. The Captain would never have let so much time go by without checking in.

  It was hard to judge time as the sky covered in fluorescent clouds never changed. He hated to admit it, but he was growing tired.

  Nothing, but a helpless old man anymore, Flynn groused to himself disgustedly.

  He hadn’t heard any shots or sounds of commotion on shore, but all the same something was wrong.

  Something bumped against the bowel of the boat and Flynn leaped up to his feet surprising the onlookers who’d almost all drifted off to sleep. Keeping a wary eye on them Flynn moved up the boat towards the
sound ready to blast away at anything that stuck its head up.

  Reaching the side of the boat that the sound had come from he looked over, but saw nothing. He glanced back at the awakened crowd of onlookers and made his way up to the wheelhouse never turning his back on the crowd on the dock.

  Something was going on and he wanted no part of it. The Captain had charged him to look out for the ship and that was just what he would do.

  Flynn backed up to the wheelhouse wall and out of the side of his mouth he whispered, “Ortega?”

  “Si?”

  “Speak English for pity’s sake! This ain’t Mexico or wherever it is that you come from!”

  “It’s not America either Senor!” Came Ortega’s smart response through the broken window of the wheelhouse.

  Flint gritted his teeth hard for a moment before he had to ruefully acknowledge that the Salvadorian had a point.

  “Give it a good ten count and then give the Celestia’s Prize all the throttle she’s got!”

  “I will do it Senor!” Ortega responded with.

  Flynn stepped away from the shattered out windows of the wheelhouse and made his way along the side of the boat moored to the dock nonchalantly slicing through the mooring ropes with a sharp knife he pulled from his belt.

  The front end of the Celestia’s Prize fell away from the dock and it became obvious what Flynn was up to. He raced for the last rope and sliced through it as the on looking crowd came unglued and started for the boat in mass intent to stop it from its unplanned exodus from port.

  The Celestia’s Prize roared to life and jolted forward like a runner off the starting block. The shotgun blasts were a rhythmic percussion of sound as hot lead spewed forth scything through the onrushing crowd in an unexpected display of firepower.

  Free of the dock the Celestia’s Prize kicked up a foamy wake as it surged out for the open sea beyond the harbor. Two of the whaling ships attempted to break free of anchor and unfurl their sails to give pursuit, but the task was made bulky and untimely given the limitations of a maritime ship of a bygone era in comparison with a modern design not reliant on wind power for propulsion.