by Jacob Nelson
Chapter 32
Returning to the chronicles of the First Phantom, Kit decided to take a break from the first quest for the origin of the rings and instead looked up the story of the medicine. It occupied his mind which seemed a good idea for the moment.
He had skimmed over it before, as he saw it had nothing to do with the mystery of the rings. Now, however, he found himself with another minor mystery. ‘How did the First cure the Malaria? He wouldn’t have had medicine enough in a chest, assuming that there was medicine that was salvaged from the ship, which was unlikely.’ In fact, the Phantom wasn’t even sure if there was a cure for Malaria then.
Shortly he found the story.
…I was made to understand that some of the Bandar were laid ill, and needed to be made whole. I noticed the high fevers, their chills, and body aches. As I had no readily available medicine to give them, and not being a medicine man by trade, I was temporarily at a loss.
It was then that I noticed a group of monkeys above me. Their chatter was such that they became obtrusive. It brought to mind those hairy little man-like chimpanzees that I saw scamper off near the seashore. The thought came to me, ‘Why would a man become so feverish while the chimpanzee would not?’ I came to the conclusion that it must be something in their diet that allowed them to overcome that particular malady. Having followed this course of thought, I decided I needed to see what the chimpanzees ate.
I implored my hosts to take me back to the seashore. Shortly I was able to get them to understand my desire and we made our way back to the same place in which they had found me, not too many days before.
There I sought out the chimpanzees that I had earlier seen. I was quickly rewarded with finding their nest. As we approached, a number of them ran off; but a few of them stayed behind, tending to one that appeared too ill to move. It was as though fate had smiled upon me. The whole scene reminded me of the Bandar and moved me in a way I had not known was in me.
I watched the chimpanzee family for two whole days, having the Bandar follow them; to collect whatever the chimpanzees collected to feed their sick one.
Aside from obvious food, such as wild bananas and the like, three other plants seemed especially important to them. One appeared to be a type of sweet wormwood, a fernlike plant. The other two were first the leaves of a large horse chestnut-type tree—of African variety, and the final one a root of some kind that resembled a water chestnut.
Not certain which was the cure, but seeing near instantaneous results in the chimpanzee family, we gathered much of each and took our collections to retire once again to the Bandar village and my new home.
Once back at Skull Cave, as I have decided to call it, I asked for and received a large piece of elephant skin, with which, after digging a large hole, used the skin to line the hole.
Meanwhile I had gathered a number of large river stones that I insisted the Bandar heat by fire.
Once the skin was in place I filled a smaller skin with water. After a few trips back and forth from the warm waterfall (in the back of the Skull Cave) to the sunken elephant skin, I was able to have enough water to make my herbal concoction.
Throughout this whole process, the Bandar were staring at me like I was some sort of specter, which as I learned of their Phantom affiliation, seemed largely appropriate.
Once the stones were glowing hot, I used two large sticks as tongs, and dropped the stones one by one into the water. The water immediately heated, and as it did so I added the various collected leaves, roots, and fronds. As an afterthought I also added a bit of elephant fat and small chunks of elephant meat for taste.
The end result was a somewhat bitter soup that overall wasn’t too bitter to get down.
I had the Bandar bring me whatever they could find that I could use for transporting the potion from the skin to the patients. Gourds, turtle shells, and hollowed lengths of bamboo were the main devises used. I filled the larger gourds with the potion and allowed those that could drink from the turtle shells, a shell full of potion. Those that had trouble drinking in that manner, I had suck the potion up through the bamboo straws (something that later was a point of amusement for the Bandar for months to follow).
I monitored the victims of this strange coastal malady and not unlike the chimpanzees, they quickly improved. Within days, even those at their death’s bed, had color once again in their faces; their chills and fevers reduced, with many of them sleeping normally.
This seemed to concrete their faith in me, and bonded us more tightly than I have felt even among my own kin.
As the Phantom closed the tome, he thought to himself, ‘Well, one mystery solved… now back to the origin of the rings’.
Chapter 33
With the great tome spread before him, the Phantom began to read again in the flickering torch light…
I inquired who this Ghost Who Walks was, and was told, quite incredulously that surely as the Ghost Who Walks I know who I am. It took some time but eventually I made out the story of the persona that I was assumed to be.
…I took up residence there. The Bandar took great care of me, and I in turn tried to outdo them in service whenever I could. In time I learned somewhat of their language. Being one who was taught in all the languages of trade by my father, I learned it quickly without too much ado.
I had been used to the term of endearment that the Bandar insistently used to address me, and though I retained my Christian name of Kit, as bestowed upon me by my father, I went among the Bandar as the Ghost Who Walks. A Phantom.
For the Bandar had always believed in this Phantom, as a legendary immortal that would one day grace them by living with them in the flesh. When a small group of them found me, white as a sheet, having blown in upon a floating island that moved with the clouds; a personage that seemingly battled evil and stepped from fire to water to earth…wearing the death’s head belt my father gave me…what else could they assume. I was obviously he, whom the legend foretold would grace them in the flesh, yet not; but as an immortal Phantom bringing justice to the jungle and stomping out evil from his midst.
Yet as I mused upon the singularity of it all, I came to the realization that such a legend would in fact be of benefit to one such as I, working alone in the evils of the world, in my quest to rid the earth of injustice, cruelty, and especially piracy.
They believed that I, as the Ghost Who Walks, had simply been killed in the spirit, due to my incarnation. For them, I had passed away as a disembodied Ghost to the now reborn Immortal Ghost that they could see walking among them. Of course I would have lost some of my memory in the move from insubstantial to substantial.
Deciding to use the form of Kua against the Wasaka, I asked the Bandar for some cloth. Shortly it appeared, and I used the bolt of white cloth that the Bandar gave me. Having inquired where they got it from, they just laughed in merriment. I dyed it purple using a native berry, and once completed, I donned the skintight outfit. I used the clear pool at the base of the smaller waterfall to admire the work.
Then I donned he skull belt of my father. The skull emblem upon my father’s belt, coupled with the shape of the cave shouted death to all evil doers everywhere. I decided to try the outfit out on my public and as I walked out of the skull cave all action among the Bandar instantly stopped, as of one accord they turned their eyes upon me.
‘Do I look like the Wasaka Demon?’ I asked the Bandar. ‘Now will you follow me to fight the giants? Come. Why are you waiting?’
‘We… we are not sure…’
‘Are you still afraid of the giants? But you saw your poison weapons kill the lion.’
‘We must be sure… wait…’ The Bandar chief sent his bravest to search out the wild boar. There, watching from the safety of a high bank, he indicated to the brave to let his arrow fly. One arrow. One dead boar.
‘It works! It works! Never have we killed the monster so easily…’
They deposited the dead beast at my feet and prostrated themselves before me. The chief th
en rose and turned to his people. With a raise of his arm Turan the chief of the Bandars shouted to the heavens a chant which was immediately picked up by the rest of them. ‘The Phantom is dead! Long Live the Phantom!’
At that moment a new persona was formed…
Back in the village of the Wasaka Giants I found the Wasaka herding the pygmy slaves. Shouts of ‘Clumsy pig’ and ‘Give him a good beating. They’re getting lazy!’ filled my ears.
‘You saw that,’ I said to the Bandar. ‘You can trust your weapons!’
‘We saw. We are not afraid. We will follow you.’
In the guise of the great and terrible death god, Kua the undying, I masqueraded. There with a hundred men we waited until the waxing of the moon in the dying light. Using blowguns the Bandar induced a sleep dart into the sentries, made of a composite mixture that I put together.
‘Wait. We must not kill unless necessary. Take posts in the trees and on rooftops. Await my signal. Buran, remain with me. Tell your people why we’re here,’ I said to the Bandar.
Not too far inside of the village we found them, the slaves of the Wasaka. ‘We come to free you. You will no longer be slaves of the giants.’
Seeing the Bandar caged up, I found myself full of rage. Heat coursed through my blood and using my own brute strength alone, broke the cage that held them. They attempted to escape, past the sleeping guards, past the fields, past the cemetery.
But alas a single misstep awoke one of the Wasaka and bellowing a ram’s horn he alerted the rest of the Wasaka tribe. The sound of the horn accomplished its form and shortly we were followed in pursuit.
I had but a moment to come up with a means to save my little friends. The statue of the demon god gave me inspiration again, and running to stand in front of it, I stretched out my arms even as the demon idol had his arms outstretched.
The sight of me as the demon god in front of the statue stunned the men of Wasaka, but they were a brave people, despite being a superstitious breed.
It was the high priest of Kua himself that started the battle. As he advanced, spear brandished and menacing, I spoke. ‘Wait men of Wasaka. They have deadly weapons now,’ I boomed, waving my arm to show the armed Bandar. ‘Unless you free your slaves, they will destroy you. Believe my words.’
‘We are not afraid of their child’s toy weapons.’ The high priest retorted. ‘Whoever you are, fool or madman, we will destroy you and your little men.’
However grace smiled down upon me at that moment. For a vulture descended to the altar looking for food. ‘Wait… Watch…’ I boomed to the Wasaka. To Buran I whispered, ‘Buran hit it! Shoot your arrow quickly, Buran.’
Buran instead barked an order and a warrior on the roof of a building nearest the beast let fly his arrow.
Even as the arrow was in flight the Wasaka could be heard to yell, ‘Kill the madman!’
Before the arrow had even had a chance to imbed itself into the flesh of the bird, the vulture stiffened and dropped to the ground dead.
‘It was dead before it hit the ground,’ a Wasaka warrior said aloud, stunned at the sight of such magic.
Kit simply smiled as he responded, ‘Be thankful that child’s toy arrow did not hit you.’
At that moment a scream was heard.
Then as sheer luck would have it, a leopard attacked the nearby sheepfold. A single arrow from the same Bandar brave ended the beast.
I took the opportunity to impress upon them the deadly magic that they surmised I had given the Bandar. ‘A mere scratch of these deadly arrows killed them both. So they can kill you.’
‘It is magic. These little people have magic.’ … ‘You gave them magic,’ they accused. … ‘Who are you?’ … ‘Is he man or demon? Those tiny arrows kill so quickly. Magic!’
‘Free these little people –forever– or you must die, as these creatures died.’ Thus to the oppressed the day was won. Fearful that I truly was the incarnation of Kua, descended from on high to punish the people for their sins, the Wasaka chieftain presented me with an old and rusted chain. It was the chain that had they had used to earlier incarcerate me upon the whipping post.
Then seeing the end of his domain, he ordered the slaves free.
Laughing and singing the freed Bandar hurried out of the village of bondage of the Wasaka into the jungle and freedom. They raced through the jungle, through the waterfall to the valley of that wonderful cave, so strangely carved by nature, which would be my home.
As we celebrated the victory of the freedom of the Bandar, and the return of the son to the father, the chief, Buran, the chief’s son raised high his weapon and dropping to his knees before me, pleaded, ‘Stay with us. Live with us.’
What could I say to such a deep-felt request. I simply agreed and said, ‘I will.’
Then to my surprise I was presented with a box that I instantly recognized. I knew not how they had found it, nor where at that time, but my heart skipped a beat as they presented me with two rings. The death’s head ring and the crossed sabers. The rings of my father.
After recovering from my surprise and thanking them profusely, I inquired where they had gotten them from.
I learned that they were collected from a chest on the very shore where they found me. In this respect I must confess thanks to the Singh. For in their haste to loot and plunder, they hurriedly scoured my father’s chests, and not finding valuables inside, threw them overboard, so as to not be bothered by them.
Among the items the Bandar recovered from the ship was my father’s chest that contained this book which was to be used as a ship’s log, but for which I am using as a chronicle of the events that have transpired…as well as a straight razor and many other useful clothes and tools…including a pair of silver wheel lock pistols on darkened mahogany stock, stored within father’s attire. These guns were my father’s favorites, specially purchased with pirates in mind. Unfortunately he was never able to use them. They are the prime of modern invention, as they use iron pyrite rather than the customary flint. The iron pyrite is held by a hammer-cock to be dropped onto a spinning metal wheel which in turn through friction releases a shower of sparks, igniting the gun powder in the pan, then igniting the powder in the barrel, thus firing the weapon. Looking around me I knew this was more valuable to me than gold.
Other chests stored other items, some to be used in trade such as the bolt of white cloth that the Bandar gave me which I used to make the costume; and others to be used as incentives for the men. And most importantly of all, in terms of sentimental attachment, the rings of my father, as presented by the Bandar.
“O Ghost Who Walks,” interrupted Old Mozz, calling from the mouth of the cave, “Tonight’s Feast… We are having Elephant!”
Kit jumped up and closed the chronicle. “Of course. Let us feast. Elephant. Excellent choice.” He replaced the tome on the high shelf and followed the Bandar to the awaiting feast.
Yet one thought continued to replay itself over and over in his mind:
‘…the rings of my father, as presented by the Bandar,’ mused Kit. ‘Which means that the Father of the First had possession of the rings from an earlier date.’
Later that evening as the Bandar settled down to sleep, Kit retired to his radio to catch up on the international news: a jewel heist in Paris, a hurricane that made landfall in Jamaica, rioting in Uganda, and more on the found treasure off of Costa Rica….
Not for sale yet – one of the 'cursed' Death’s Head gold coins worth £100m
One of the most beautiful and infamous treasure hoards of the 20th century, one of the coins that was found recently on the Pacific side of Costa Rica (part of the 17 chests of Columbus-era gold that was recently lost to pirates) of staggering quality, will resurface today on display in London, to the consternation of leading archaeologists who regard it as archaeological loot.
Although Bonhams auction house, which will display the Death’s Head coin, insists no sale is planned, the coin has been placed on display in “hopes of attrac
ting some buyers,” stated Nigel Parks, head of the auction house.
But the Costa Rican government has written to Bonhams to protest at the exhibition and reiterate its claim that the gold was found on Costa Rican soil and illegally exported from the country.
The coin was reputedly found along the Punta Arenas beach area on the western side of Costa Rica, but speculation is that it was removed from the Scavenger, the ship that recovered the 17 chests of gold coins and subsequently lost them to pirates. Sources state that the coin was passed onto the Bonhams auction house by Gary Lewes, who claimed the coin was ‘cursed’. The late Mr. Lewes was later found in Hyde Park, after an apparent suicide through hanging.
Of the 12 crewmembers of the Scavenger, 8 have recently passed on, leaving the world wondering if the curse of the coin is in fact real.
Retired detective sergeant Richard Ellis, formerly of the art and antiquities squad at Scotland Yard, said: "Am I 100% certain of what happened here? No. Let's say that the evidence stacks up, and that there is a total lack of evidence on the other side. And from what I have seen of the evidence, I do not believe that that man committed suicide."
Bonhams will show the gold at private viewings in London. The glossy invitations, sent to collectors, academics and archaeologists, describe it as "the finest surviving pre-Columbian gold coin known to exist".
A spokesman for Bonhams said: "We think it's an astonishing coin, obviously, and we're very flattered to be asked to show it. There is enormous academic interest in this piece. It seems better to us to put it on display than to have it locked away, and we are thrilled and privileged to be given the opportunity to do that."
Roger Bland, a former coins expert at the British Museum, head of the portable antiquities scheme for recording archaeological finds, was astounded when his invitation arrived. "It is very difficult to see what Bonhams hope to achieve through this private viewing. Under [government] guidelines for museums no UK museum could ever acquire or even borrow it. I think the obvious circumstantial evidence points strongly to its having come from Costa Rica, and I hope that it goes back there and is put on show for public benefit."