by Ron Vitale
James waited until Pahukumaa and Josep had gathered their equipment and secured all the oars inside the boat. “I don’t see much of an open clearing, so let’s just take it slow and head on back into the trees, and we’ll do a quick scout of the area. If the jungle is too thick, we can double back and walk the length of the beach to see if there’s less foliage in another area. Pahukumaa, get your book out and start drawing a map. I want you to draw everything you can so that when we get back to the captain he has a clearer sense of what’s around.”
Pahukumaa already had a book in his hand and began sketching. James pulled out a machete from his pack and hacked his way through vines to go deeper into the jungle. Zeke followed with Nathan behind, then Josep and Pahukumaa took up the rear position.
Nathan glanced up and could still see blue sky, but heavy dark clouds hung low over the ocean. The wind still remained steady, but he could sense a storm on its way. It was almost as though he had an itch under his skin, and his hairs stood on end. A big storm by his guess, but he had no basis to back up his claims.
Zeke slowed down and walked in stride with Nathan. “Keep an eye out on that storm. If you feel that it’s changing direction or speed toward us, let me know.”
“I can do that, but you have more experience with storms than I.” Nathan ducked under a knot of vines that crossed his path.
“You have a gift. It’s in how sensitive you are with the world around you.” Zeke pointed up at the sky. “You’re young yet and think everyone feels and sees as you do, but that’s not the case. That’s what makes you such a good whale spotter. Trust me.”
Taken a bit off guard by Zeke’s comments, Nathan replied, “Thank you…”
“Don’t let it get to your head. Come on, we have a lot of walking to do yet.” Zeke sped up his swinging and cut through the jungle brush.
Nathan pushed onward and then stopped, holding his hands up to silence the others.
Josep and Pahukumaa came up behind him with Josep putting his arm around Nathan. “What are you doing?”
“Shhh!” Nathan threw off Josep’s mock embrace and pointed off to the west. “Do you hear that?” He strained forward and then knelt down to the ground and placed his palms on the ground.
Zeke pushed Josep back, and Pahukumaa turned his ear to the west but shook his head. “I hear nothing. Nothing but the wind.”
And then, as if to fool them all, a loud rumble of thunder rattled the air around them. The ground shook and the sound passed over them in waves. Pahukumaa shook his hand at Nathan and then slapped his hand on his knee. “You’re only hearing thunder. I thought that you—”
A scream pierced the air and came from the west. “What was that?” Josep froze in place and spun around.
“Go ahead to see if James is okay, and get him to come back here.” Zeke pushed Josep forward and silenced Pahukumaa with his hand.
Another round of thunder came in from off the sea, and the rumbling blocked out any other sound. “Someone sounds like they are in great pain. What should we do?” Pahukumaa hung back with a look of worry on his face.
He looked to Zeke for an answer, but Nathan replied first, “We have to go help them.”
“Wait a moment.” Zeke held Nathan back by the arm and turned around. “Josep?”
Josep rushed back to them in a panic. “I can’t find James. He’s gone.”
Pahukumaa pulled his machete out of his backpack and spun around, looking in all directions. “They’ve come to get us.”
With his machete now in hand as well, Josep started to mumble. “It’s the Maloik. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, protect us.” He crossed himself, looking somewhat foolish doing so with his machete.
“Everyone calm down!” Zeke pointed at Josep and asked, “Did you see any trace of James? Maybe he just wandered off.”
“He was right in front of us. Why would he just wander off? That doesn’t make any sense.” Beads of sweat appeared on Josep’s forehead, and he could not stand still. He kept turning around in all directions erratically to ensure that no evil spirit snuck up on him.
And from behind, Pahukumaa jumped and cried out in pain. Nathan and Zeke spun around and relaxed when he only swatted at the back of his neck. “It’s just a bug.” He held up his hand and showed a dead fly with a tiny bit of his blood on the palm of his hand.
Josep pointed back to the beach. “We should get off this island now.”
A second loud scream echoed out of the woods. Deeper in tone and definitely that of a man, the scream dragged out until they could hear him begging for his life. A gurgled choke quickly followed and then a prolonged raw ache of pain that only ended after a slow and excruciatingly drawn-out breath of hurt. When finished, they heard a slight sob that turned to an unintelligent babble of blubbering that faded into silence.
Zeke pointed his machete toward the west and looked to the others. “I’m starting to believe that Josep has the right idea, and we should leave and get some help from the ship.”
Pahukumaa swatted again at his neck and this time he then threw both hands up in the air to frighten away several more flies from around his face and neck. “These flies are like vampires. Let’s go.”
A third, slightly louder, rumble of thunder crashed overhead and silenced all other sounds around them. After the thunder faded off in the distance, the sounds of the insects increased and became louder as each bug appeared to chirp louder as if in response to the approaching storm.
“Come on, I’m leaving to go back to the ship.” Josep went to run, but Nathan held up his hand and blocked his path.
From far-off to the west, through the jungle and all its humid mysteries, a woman’s cry reached its highest pitch, hung a perfect note of desperation, and pierced through the surrounding area.
Nathan took a few steps forward and shook his head in disbelief. “No, no, no… It can’t be. It can’t be her!”
The others froze in place, waiting to hear if any other noise would follow, but Nathan suddenly ran off, rushing with his machete drawn as if possessed. He said no words but cut through the vines and ferns before him with great intent and strength.
Josep ran back toward the boat and then hesitated. “Damn it!” He slapped his machete against the trunk of a palm tree. “We should go after him.”
Pahukumaa shook his head and looked to Zeke. “No! Let’s go head back to the ship and get help.”
Zeke pointed his machete at Pahukumaa and shook his head. “If you head back to the boat, I’ll gut you like a fish.” He did not mince his words. “We’re going after Nathan. Understood?”
Pahukumaa remained still for a moment, but he gave in and followed behind Josep, trying to move as stealthy as he could to bring less attention to himself.
Zeke followed and the rush of his blood made him feel alive. For his age, he ran fast, careful not to trip or fall, but he also kept quiet and made certain not to lose sight of Nathan. What they rushed toward, he did not know, possibly it could be their own death, but he would not desert his friend.
As if to taunt them, the sky opened up, and the rain poured down, slow at first and then with great speed.
Nathan glanced back over his shoulder and glimpsed the others following him. He knew he would need their help with whatever they faced. He concentrated on running as fast as he could, unsure exactly what he would find, but he had to help her. He did not know how she had arrived here, but no matter the risk, nothing would ever cause him to not help his sister. Nothing.
***
I raised my head off the ground and glanced over at Levi. He had fallen to his knees, staring with disbelief at the arrow protruding from his chest. A barely clothed man with dark skin, brandishing a knife in his hand, ran over to him. Half in shock, Levi tried to get up but only shook his head and mumbled, “No, please, no.”
The islander’s headdress was constructed with red and blue feathers. He placed both hands together and then stabbed Levi in the chest. As the blade cut through his skin, Levi let out a cry o
f pain, loud, long, and filled with terror. He clutched at the dark-skinned man’s hands until the chieftain pushed him down to the ground and pointed at another sailor.
Ishmael whispered in my ear. “We need to get out of here. Don’t say a word.”
I searched for Clarence but could not see him in the confusion. Other indigenous people came out of the trees with spears and bows. Two of the men grabbed the nearest sailor. I did not even remember his name. They tied him to the trunk of a thick tree, and he pleaded for his life. The sailor cried softly at first and then with more forcefulness when the chieftain with the red- and blue-feathered headdress came toward him with the bloodied knife in his hand. The chief put his hands together, as if in prayer, and raised them to the heavens, and another indigenous man held the sailor’s arm out.
Their leader sung low at first in a guttural language that I could not comprehend. He then proceeded to skin the sailor alive. He plunged the knife into the sailor’s forearm and, with a deft hand, peeled away at the man’s skin. The sailor cried out in pain but could not break away from the tree trunk. Blood dripped down to the hungry earth and pooled there. The chieftain flayed the sailor’s skin, pulling a large piece off and dropping it to the ground. With his hands bloody, he fastidiously continued to work, ignoring the sailor’s bloodcurdling screams. When the pain became too great, the sailor lost consciousness, fell silent, and woke a few moments later, having lost all reason. He blubbered and cried out nonsensical phrases, trying to pull away from the tree while the chief continued to work.
The chief held up the flesh and offered it up to the sky. He spoke in an unintelligible language and then showed the skin to the rest of the assembled. Ishmael’s firm hands held me down and he said, “Close your eyes or look away.”
But how could I do that in seeing the sailor in such torment? I wanted to save him but had no bargaining chip or knowledge of what these men might want.
The native put a piece of flesh in his mouth and then turned back to the sailor. He flayed the man’s other arm, and the screams this time sounded inhuman. The chieftain raised both his arms over his head, shaking his blade in the air and then forcefully thrust it into the man’s neck. On impact, blood dribbled out of the sailor’s mouth along with a gasp of unexpected pain. His cry turned to a garbled blubber, and he choked on his own blood.
A scream I could not contain stole out of my mouth. Ishmael tried to quiet me, but my screams had already signaled our location. I screamed some more, not proud of what I did, but I had no words to express the barbarous torture I had seen.
I wanted to rush toward their leader and take his knife from him. I would plunge it deep in his heart, twist it, and see him suffer, watching his last breath seep out of him like a man who knew he would die by my hand.
Two barely clothed men with spears ran toward us, and Ishmael rose up out of the brush where we hid and fired his pistol at the closest man. The bullet pierced through the man’s chest, and he fell, crashing into the ferns. I clenched my fists and prepared to fight with my bare hands. I would punch the islander’s throat as hard as I could and then pull him forward off balance, but I never had a chance. From our left, Clarence popped up from his hiding spot and fired his gun at the second man who came at us. The bullet shattered the man’s jaw, and I saw a spray of blood and then no more as he dropped in a heap clutching his broken face.
The other islanders turned on us. I heard the whoosh of an arrow narrowly miss me, and Ishmael pushed me toward the nearest tree. “Go and hide. And here, take this.” He handed me his second pistol. I took the weapon and rushed toward the nearest tree trunk. Ishmael followed close behind me, and I fired the gun at the three men who chased us with spears. My shot hit the closest man in the belly. He clutched his stomach, cried out in pain, and fell down.
Clarence fired another shot from a third pistol he had, and the remaining sailor from our group popped out of his hiding spot to our right. He aimed his rifle and fired at the third man who ran toward Ishmael and me. The rifle shot hit him in the back, knocking him forward never to rise again.
“We have to get back to the ship.” Ishmael did not slow down and ran hard. “Clarence is closest to the path that leads back up and out of this pit. Head toward him.”
An arrow lodged itself in the tree trunk by my head, and my hand shook in fear. A rush of blood clouded my vision for a moment and I clenched my teeth in fear. I nodded to Ishmael, unable to form words, and focused on escaping. We ran out behind our tree toward Clarence. He had rushed forward into a dense bunch of ferns. When I glanced back over my shoulder, I wished that I had not done so. I counted four men rushing after us. They brandished their weapons and sang out a war cry loud and clear.
Clarence broke through the thick brush and ran hard up the hill, headed up the path that led us to this Edenesque paradise, and we followed as quickly as we could. A spear whizzed past over my head barely missing me. I knew it would be only a matter of time until the islanders caught up with us, but I would not give up. I had to keep running.
Once at the top, I drew a knife and turned to face the men who chased us. Ishmael did the same, and we prepared to die fighting. I knew not what else to do, and then from our right, I saw him. Nathan. He burst out of the jungle at his top speed, firing his gun at the islanders who charged us and waving his machete in his other hand. The remaining sailor from our expedition fired his rifle again, killing another man and then joined Nathan as they both came toward us.
My brother pulled out a second pistol from his belt and slowed somewhat to ensure that he did not fall on the thick vegetative growth on the jungle’s floor. From the direction that Nathan had entered the clearing, three other men came out firing their guns. The oldest of them slowed and shot dead the closest islander, but the chieftain, as if crazed, rushed them.
The chief shouted something in a language that I did not understand and then pointed at the older man with Nathan.
Nathan moved toward his friend and yelled, “Zeke, watch out!”
Ishmael pulled me away. “I don’t know who these men are, but we have to keep going.”
“But it’s Nathan!” I pointed over at my twin and shook my head in disbelief. “We found each other. Can you see? This is a sign. I have to stay…”
An arrow flew right past us and bounced off a tree trunk behind us. Ishmael, mouth set, put his hands together and said, “If we don’t get to safety, then you’ll never have a chance to formally introduce me to Nathan. We have no bullets left, and our knives are no match to their spears and arrows.”
A clap of thunder resounded overhead, and I stood firm, turning back over my shoulder to see that Nathan had pulled a spear from a dead man and used it to fight off another who came toward him.
Zeke rushed into the brook and stood there facing off more than a half-dozen islanders. Although they all had weapons, they hung back, and I did not know why they did not just rush him. Ishmael pulled me away. “We must leave. Now!”
Before either of us could answer, the sky opened up, and rain fell from the sky so heavily that I could not see more than an arm’s length ahead of me. The torrent drowned out the fighting behind us, and I veered away from Ishmael’s grasp and rushed out of hiding toward Nathan. He and his two friends stood in a semi-circle and faced off four men with spears. They too hung back with their weapons drawn. Why they did not attack, I did not know.
I came out of Nathan’s left field of view and rushed toward him, taking my place by his side. I held my knife firmly in my hand and pointed it at the nearest islander. More thunder crashed over us, and Nathan turned toward me with an incredulous look on his face. I watched his disbelief turn with each passing moment to the birth of a smile that grew and grew. “Morgan, is it really you?”
“Yes, I’ve finally found you!” I put my hand on his shoulder but did not take my eye off the islanders.
The man who stood closest to Nathan asked, “Maybe we could talk later and focus on getting back to the ship?”
Nathan nodded. “Josep, this is my sister, Morgan.”
“Great, pleased to meet you. Once we’re safe, we’ll have tea and biscuits. In the meantime, how are we going to get out of here?” Josep kept his second gun aimed toward the men with spears in front of him.
Zeke pointed at the islanders and said, “Leave us and you’ll not be harmed.” He then raised his hands, and coincidence or not, a bolt of lightning crisscrossed the sky, forking off and hitting a tree on the other side of the clearing. Before the thunder came, I heard a crackling sound and then the wallop of the thunder’s sound wave rocked through every part of my body. The proximity of the thunderbolt scared me, and I wasn’t the only one afraid.
The chieftain pointed again at Zeke and spoke in a language that I did not understand, turning toward the others of his tribe.
Zeke pointed at the leader and responded to him in his language. Whatever Zeke said hit the mark as the chief pulled back in fear and he waved off his fellow tribesman. He then spit at Zeke, and shook his spear at him, but then quickly withdrew along with all the rest of his tribe.
The rain still came down in a torrent, and the lightning had intensified.
Once the islanders had gone, I rushed toward Nathan and pulled him into a close embrace. “I’ve really found you!”
He hugged me back but wouldn’t make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for running away, but I had to…”
“Nathan, we have to go!” Zeke lowered his gun and put it back onto his belt. He came to stand next to Nathan, ignoring me entirely, and yelled over the rain, “They think I know where the rumored white whale, Moby Dick, is.”
Nathan pulled away from me and faced his friend. “What did you tell them?”
Zeke smiled, wiping rain from his eyes. “I embellished a bit and told them that I would call the spirits down on them and the demon whale would feast on all their families if they did not leave us.”
A strong gust of wind blew past us, and Ishmael came to stand by my side. He kept his knife out just in case. “Are you hurt?”
