by R.H. Proenza
***~~~***
Rik was watching with tearful eyes the horizon again from the side of the ship. He became lost in his own recounting as Captain Blakeshire looked on with sad eyes. “And by now I surmise, Oliver my friend, you must have seen the fire. The flames from the burning huts must have been visible for you to spot the island.”
“Yes, indeed ‘twas, ye poor bloke. ‘Twas the flames an’ smoke tha’ we sighted and brought me to ye. Blimey, y’ had a big fire goin' when it caught th’ underbrush… and lucky y’ did. And laddy, I grieve with ye I do, about the loss of y’ lass back there.” Rik’s moist eyes were distant again. The dark shadows of strain and malnutrition were still present around them.
A deck hand had walked up to Oliver and handed him something. “Is this wha’ ye be wantin’, Cap’n?”
“Yes, thank ye, Crenshaw.”
“Erik, lad, when we found y’ sittin’ on the beach y’ were hangin’ on to this pouch, and real tight-like, at that. I took the liberty o’ lookin’ inside. Me thinks it’s some of your personal belongings.” Rik recognized the animal skin bag of Lissa’s, and sadness gripped a chokehold on his throat again. He almost could not touch it. Yet he could not remember what was inside. He had to see its contents.
As he untied the pouch he half-remembered saving some mementos before the fire. He had been in a daze and could not recollect what he had in fact saved. He emptied the contents on the deck and felt a stab of agony through his chest. Out tumbled Lissa’s lacy blouse, her hair ribbons, her prized bars of lilac soap and other odd things. Present as well was her treasured diamond pendant which had landed on the ground during the struggle with the savages.
A sob reached his throat and clutched and squeezed like the bite of an angry moray eel, but he forced it back down. He stood up, wiped his burning eyes, and finished off the brandy. The Captain spoke with pain in his voice, “I’ll, uh, put all this away for y’ lad. Don’t fret, y’ just be needin’ some rest is all. Jus’ let some time pass… it will... it will ease th’ pain. It al’ays does.”
Rik’s night was restless. He tried to sleep but kept tossing about. He kept trying to push away the bitter memories that were now burned into his mind. Finally, from exhaustion, he drifted off into nightmare-filled sleep. The next morning the ship felt strangely still. Rik emerged on deck to find they had docked in Papeete, the main port of Tahiti.
“Ahoy, and a good morn matey.” The Captain greeted him trying to lighten his spirit. “Trust y’ got some rest last night. The men are out resupplyin’ our provisions. Tahiti is our turnaround port for this trip. Come with me why don’t ya and let’s ‘ave a look at th’ place. Ye be needin’ ta stretch your legs, lad, and clear y’ mind.”
“Oliver, I don’t have any interest in seeing anything, but I’ll go just to keep you company.” The port city streets were nothing like the peaceful tropical shores he was used. The streets were a congested maze lined with loud arrogant vendors and hucksters of every conceivable kind. It was a never ending marketplace. Some were charlatans, others legitimate men selling their wares. They all seemed to be yelling at the same time. Most anything could be found and bought for the right price.
Even the noise and turmoil of the marketplace did not disrupt Rik’s detachment from the world. He could hardly keep his attention on anything. He gazed with unseeing eyes at them all, hoping Oliver would finish his perusal of the place and return to the ship.
A crowd had gathered around a raised platform and the congestion was becoming a nuisance to Rik. A black man dressed in a colorful garment with a feathered headdress was pacing across the front of the platform. He was huckstering his particular wares for sale which in this case was a lineup of slaves. The poor victims were usually stolen from different tribes or won as booty in local battles.
As the two of them passed by, a new row of slaves came up for viewing, and Rik’s heart stopped. For a brief second, he could not separate fact from fancy. Was he finally losing his mind? With mouth agape, he could hardly catch his breath. There, not sixty feet away, stood in line a tanned white girl with long straight dark hair wearing sackcloth. She faced downward. The similarity to Lissa was sickeningly close, but it couldn’t be her. He had seen the evidence of her death! The pain was rushing back all over again, choking Rik as he stood watching from a distance.
