The Hellhound Consortium

by B A Simmons

Each of the vessels now sailing after the Falcon ship contained a handful of young Engle Islanders, eager to prove themselves in the eyes of their heroes. None of them had any idea what they were about to take part in.

  They rounded the south peninsula to find the Perla de Margareta listing hard to starboard. Captain Rossini had already launched his ship’s boat and he himself stood at the prow, his armor gleaming in the sunlight, while six of his men sat rowing away from their sinking ship. In the water behind the smaller boat, eight more of the crew swam on their backs. Their arms linked together while their legs kicked almost in unison. They were all headed for land, nearly a mile away.

  The huller had done its job perfectly. As the Perla de Margareta had sailed straight southward through the bay, seawater had been pouring into her hold. By the time the crew realized what was happening, they had exited the bay and were turning eastward in much heavier seas. The water in the hold shifted and she now lay on her side.

  With Engle Islanders rowing, Charlie waived at Rossini with one hand while his other held his loaded hand cannon. He was hoping the Falcon sailors would think they were coming to rescue them. Mark followed Charlie’s cue and commanded weapons aboard the Anna Louisa be hidden from view as well. However, as the skiffs behind them came into Rossini’s line of sight, he saw several angry-looking islanders waving bows and harpoons. He reached into his boat and brought up a crossbow, frantically loading it. He shouted at his men to turn, but the Anna Louisa and the Engleman’s skiff had already closed the distance, placing themselves on either side of Rossini’s boat.

  “Cedere! Cedere!” Mark shouted, rehearsing the Iyty command to surrender that Roger had taught him.

  Rossini was too proud. He lifted and aimed his weapon at Mark who was aiming his own bow at Rossini. Neither of them saw Charlie light his hand cannon and take aim at Rossini. The blast was at near point-blank range. Rossini fell forward into the water and immediately disappeared from view. His bronze breastplate and helmet dragged him swiftly into the depths. Several balls from the hand cannon struck two of the rowers. Two others dove into the water and began swimming back toward their lost ship. The others threw their hands into the air and begged for mercy. The crew on the Anna Louisa accepted them as prisoners and began fishing for the other two.

  Meanwhile, the rest of the Falcon crew, some of whom were armed with bronze knives, began encircling the Engleman skiff. Charlie dropped his hand cannon and drew out the short Duarve sword he’d acquired on Alimia. George stood looking at the water where two Falcon sailors had just been. Suddenly, like a rayfish leaping from the depths, one of the sailors came spurting up and drove his knife into the shoulder of the islander rowing the skiff. George lunged forward and plunged his blade into the man’s chest. The second submerged sailor made an attempt on Charlie whose reaction was to deflect the blow with his left arm as if it held a shield. It did not and the knife blade lodged itself deep between the bones of his forearm. At the same time, Charlie’s right arm had thrust the Duarve blade into the attacker’s neck.

  Rob’s skiff arrived to assist. Trina sent arrows into two sailors attempting to board the skiff. Rob used the haft of a harpoon to bludgeon a third. Charlie fished another man out of the sea amidst pleas for mercy. An arrow from the fourth skiff wounded one of the sailors as he attempted to escape the carnage. His head disappeared below the waves before he could be rescued.

  Aboard the Anna Louisa, four Falcon sailors sat dripping as Anna watched over them with a loaded bow. As George began tying the hands of one of the prisoners on the skiff, another body exploded from beneath the waves. It took hold of George and pulled him into the water. Mark took aim and fired a quick arrow through the sailor’s chest. In the confusion of splashes and cries of alarm, no one had seen the Falcon sailor drive the point of his knife into George’s heart. It was several moments before he realized that there were two dead bodies.

  6 – Farewells

  The Beckworth family, like almost all families on Engle Isle, had a plot in the island cemetery. Over the centuries of human habitation, the people of the island decided that it would be impractical to bury everyone who passed away. Many turned to cremation. Plots in the cemetery tended to be reserved for heads of household and island heroes. George was given a plot next to his grandfather.

  It seemed the whole population of Engle Isle came to his funeral. Even Alfie Lawrence was carried out to pay respect. A chorus of young children sang the traditional lament of those lost too soon. The slow melody, played out by flutes with a single drum keeping time, harmonized perfectly with the words. They spoke of remaining strong and carrying on though the loved one had passed on to Evan.

  The words were poetry, therefore their meaning was lost on most of those in attendance. At least their individual interpretations differed, except in one way—the sadness was felt by all.

  Mark was unable to hold to his usual stoicism. He wept bitterly as his friend was lowered into the grave. Indeed, few dry eyes were found among the islanders. The hotheads’ enthusiasm for the war dampened considerably as a pall of uncertainty fell over them. They all suddenly realized, without doubt, that it could be any of them being lowered into the ground.

  Rob wiped tears from his face and stared hard as the burial detail began filling in the hole. Trina stood at his side, mute and motionless throughout the service. She seemed more acquainted with grief than any of them. Rob thought that her eyes shone with more compassion toward George’s mother than those islanders who had known him his whole life. She even went so far as to tersely embrace Missus Beckworth and offer her condolences.

  As they walked slowly back toward Port John, Trina confided in Rob the secret of her scar.

  “I was fourteen when I was given as a bride,” she said.

  This caught Rob off guard. He stopped in his tracks. Trina turned and faced him.

  “My father was in debt to his master. I was married off to pay the debt. And then . . .”

  She shifted her eyes away from Rob. He responded by taking her hand in his.

  “Trina,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me—ˮ

  “No, I want to, Rob. I need to tell you about him. He would have been my son . . . but the medic said . . . he said my baby died inside me. That scar across my belly is from when they . . .”

  She could no longer keep the tears from falling. Rob felt compelled to embrace her while she wept. After some time, she lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed him.

  Rob did not know how to respond. He looked at Trina with concern and embarrassment. She sensed his confusion and pulled away.

  “I’m sorry,” she said and began walking again.

  “Trina, I . . .” Rob began, but he had no idea what to say. He waited several minutes before resuming his trek back to Port John. All the while, he kicked himself for his stupidity. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just tell her how he felt? Should he have just kissed her back? Rob knew the answers and hated himself because of them.

  In Port John, the mood was different. The anxiety of war had not subsided since that morning. Now, in the late afternoon, the Entdecker, Anna Louisa, and Alphina had been loaded with food and equipment for their journeys. Several Engle Islanders malingered around the docks hoping to be taken on as crew by one of the captains. Tom kept his crew small on the Entdecker, with just Mark, Anna, Malcolm, and Alistair McClain. Edwin added the Campbell brothers to his crew along with Rob and, as a passenger, Doctor Morris.

  It was Pete who had the hardest time deciding on a crew. He took Tim on as his boatswain, and Trina silently put herself at the tiller, glaring at anyone who dared question her place there. Richard and Jacob came on, though Jacob continued to insist that he was there to protect the ship against boarders, not to be a sailor. Three other Engle Islanders were taken on, but even with the hotheads, George’s death had created an unspoken understanding that Engle Islanders were to remain, as much as possible, on Engle Isle. Pete’s choices were all from Port John and all were experi
enced sailors—Patrick Barrett, Yusef Massoud, and Harland FitzHugh. Everyone was surprised when Harland was selected over more sober choices available, though none outwardly questioned Pete’s decision.

  Mark wanted to depart immediately that evening but there was still one problem to be solved. Six Falcon sailors sat trussed up and gagged in a boathouse. Jacob had guarded them since the battle, mainly to keep them safe from the islanders. Now, they needed to be secured somewhere else. Half of Engle Island wanted to kill them, the other half wanted to send them back to Alimia. Into this dilemma, Max Claythorne, in an inebriated state, saw an opportunity to make money. He offered them his island to rent out as a prison.

  For a price, payable in copper or ale, he would lead them out to a small pile of rock and sand. There, they could deposit the prisoners with a barrel of fresh water and fishing line. Max confessed he’d discovered the tiny landmass years ago and had never disclosed its location to anyone. It was his getaway island, his personal fortress of solitude where he could drink in peace. Had he been sober when he overheard them discussing the dilemma, he likely would not have even mentioned it. However, he was on his last keg of ale and considered this his only chance to get more. After warning them to be wary of the shifting sandbars, he happily stumbled away, money in hand.

  With a fish-stained cloth over their eyes, the six prisoners were taken from the boathouse and made to lie prostrate in the Entdecker’s hold. As the sun set in the west, three ships made their way through John’s Bay. Where the bay opened to the sea, the Alphina turned east while the other two ships turned against the wind and headed west.

  Those aboard the Entdecker took care not to give any hint of the direction they sailed. Edwin had received the navigation instructions from Max and the Anna Louisa led the way to his island. According to Max, it lay half a day’s sailing to the southwest of Engle, so they sailed in wide zig-zags as they tacked against the wind. James sighted it just before dawn, a low assemblage of rocks seemingly fused together by silty sand. The whole of the island measured no more than two acres, and the only vegetation was a cluster of scraggly trees near the northern shore. It was here that Tom brought the Entdecker in. The prisoners were rudely pushed and pulled over the side of the vessel and left standing on the muddy beach. While Malcolm and Alistair covered her with bows, Anna approached one of the Falcon men. He had been the boatswain’s mate of the Perla de Margareta, and as such was the highest-ranking survivor.

  Anna drew a knife from her belt, quickly cut the rope binding his hands and stepped back toward the Entdecker. After a few moments of hesitation, the boatswain’s mate removed the blindfold from his eyes and took in his surroundings. He saw what was left of his crew, still bound and blind, but his attention quickly focused on the crew of the Entdecker. Mark and Tom lowered the water barrel and dropped the fishing line on it. Mark glared at the Falcon sailor who responded with the same stoic look Mark was wont to give.

  “You speak Engle?” Anna demanded.

  The sailor looked at her for a moment before shaking his head slowly.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Mark said. “He can release the others after we leave and Ayday have mercy on them. I certainly won’t.”

  “We’ll be back to check on you. Farewell,” Anna told him, but he just stared back uncomprehendingly.

  “We should go now,” Tom said.

  The boatswain’s mate waited until the Entdecker was well off shore before freeing his companions. The two ships sailed northward away from Max’s island with the assurance that even if the Falcon sailors were rescued or escaped, they’d not know which direction Engle Isle lay.

  It occurred to Rob as they sailed toward Fishhook Isle that marooning those men was perhaps worse than killing them outright. In the event that they were unsuccessful in fishing or in collecting rainwater, they’d die the slow death of starvation rather than a quick execution. There being nothing he could reasonably do about it, Rob put the thought out of his mind.

  “Legend says that in the land of our ancestors,” began Doctor Morris, “a group of criminals was marooned on an island, the last island discovered in all the world. These thieves and murderers formed their own laws. They subjugated the primitive natives and built a nation for themselves. Ozzies, they called themselves. In time, they became a mighty nation and even came to the aid of the kingdom that had marooned their fathers and grandfathers generations before.”

  “I doubt very much those Falcons will be creating much on that spit of rock,” Edwin replied.

  “Oh, I agree with you, Edwin. I agree. I mentioned that legend simply because it entered my head as we were leaving them there.”

  Rob piped in. “Tell us another legend. Something about our past.”

  It was quiet on deck as Morris thought. The sea rose and fell gently and the wind, while steady, filled the sail silently.

  “Do you know where the word meecher comes from?” Morris asked rhetorically. “It was a name once. The name of a ship captain. The legend is that he was the captain that brought our race from Earth. He was a greedy and proud man. He thought he knew it all and could do it all, never listening to a word of advice from anyone.”

  “Sounds like a meecher to me,” Shawn Campbell said with a huff.

  Morris continued, “He sailed from Earth to the Isle de Prime with a cargo of people in a ship made of copper and steel. He left them there with the order to build a kingdom for him so that when he returned with the rest of our race, he could rule over us. But what he didn’t know, was that the seas around Isle de Prime were the nesting waters for the car-dun, the most voracious predator the world has ever known. The people he left there soon found this out for themselves as they tried to sail their own metal boats; the car-dun rose to the surface and swallowed them whole. However, they discovered that wooden boats and ships were left alone.

  “When Captain Meecher returned, he was warned about the car-dun, but dismissed it. He thought nothing could destroy his mighty ship of copper and steel. As he sailed out from Isle de Prime with a full crew aboard, he was still in sight of those on the shore when a monstrous car-dun leapt out of the water and took hold of Meecher’s ship in his jaws. Despite the strength of the metal ship, it was no match for that of the beast. The car-dun tore into the ship and dragged it into the depths. None among Captain Meecher and his crew were ever found. To this day, a person who is prideful or foolish, greedy or stupid, is referred to as a meecher. His name has become our most common insult. And to this day, we make our ships out of wood.”

  Edwin chuckled and said, “I remember when I first used that word. I called Alfie a meecher when he beat me at dice. I was punished for using the insult, but Alfie was too, for gambling.”

  “How could a ship be made of copper and steel?” Duncan Campbell asked. “It wouldn’t float.”

  Morris smiled at Rob, the latter returned the gesture with patient reserve. He was mindful of what Morris had told him two days earlier. He had to temper his yearning for knowledge to give himself the chance to comprehend it all. Rob despised the idea of having to learn patience before he could learn truth.

  Three and a half days later, the ships came in to the lagoon at Fishhook Isle. Edwin was eager to rid himself of his cargo of goats. The smell emanating from the ship’s hold made him gag a bit every time he passed by the hatch, and he vowed never again to transport livestock.

  As with their first visit to the island, the natives greeted them warmly with a launch of canoes and cheers. They spotted Ches with his broad, gaping smile, leading the convoy in the largest canoe. Most of the Fishhook natives were already fond of Edwin, their “big king,” but when he arrived with a second ship, the entire island was abuzz with excitement and admiration. Their king had returned, showing off his prestige and cementing his popularity among them.

  “Tew bikcanewws! Bly-mee!” Ches was delighted as Edwin came ashore, along with Anna, Mark, Rob, and Doctor Morris. “Ay news youss wussa bicking!”

  Ches saw Anna and bowed deeply
. A flirtatious grin spread across his face until he saw Mark move next to Anna and place his arm around her.

  “Ches, let me introduce you to the mighty warrior, Mark Engleman, Anna’s husband,” Edwin said. Ches straightened his back and gulped. Mark extended his arm toward the governor of Fishhook and was just as confused at the slap and fist bump response as Edwin had been the previous month.

  The goats became a source of perplexity and amusement among the Fishhook Islanders. As the animals were brought to shore, the people peered at them as one might some foreign food. Curiosity drew them in, and when the first bleat was heard from the four-legged oddities, the people jumped back and laughed. After this introduction, Ches immediately wanted to slaughter one and eat it raw. Edwin and Anna had to plead with him to stay his hand. It wasn’t until Rob demonstrated how the animals could be milked that Ches and the other islanders began to grasp that there were other purposes for the animals.

  The rest of the morning was spent in gathering toadstool from the marshes. With a gaggle of Fishhook Islanders helping, Edwin soon had several dozen pounds of it packed in crates and taken aboard the Anna Louisa.

  During the harvest, one of the young natives came back to the village limping and fretting. He looked genuinely worried as he explained in their all-but-unintelligible dialect what had happened. Ches relayed the concern at a slower pace to Anna, who was certainly the most adept at understanding them. The young man had been bitten by a lizard, a small six-legged creature with a venomous bite. According to Ches, many of those on the island had missing appendages because of this danger. The venom gave the victim a burning fever as it ate away their flesh. The only cure the natives knew was swift amputation so as to stop it before the poison could get into their bloodstream.

  This native had been bitten on the leg, just below the knee, and was near panic at the thought of losing it. Indeed, if it weren’t for the intervention of Rob and Anna, he might have. Louie, who seemed to be trusted as the island medic, had already brought out a sharp stone knife and a hammer capable of breaking bone. Anna pleaded with him to let them try a poultice first. Both Louie and the young man expressed their doubts, but let Anna fetch woundwort and oatmeal from the ship’s supply. Rob slit open the swollen skin around the bite and wrapped it with the mixture on a cloth. The young man grimaced and grunted with pain for an hour as his family watched on anxiously. After some time had passed, he noted with a smile that the pain had subsided. His leg felt better. He quickly removed the wrap to look at the wound. The swelling had indeed gone down, but Rob insisted that he replace the poultice immediately and leave it there for at least three days.