by Avell Kro
part of the East Indian Trading camp?”
Harry ran his hands through his hair, making the dark curls stand on end. “I heard one of the
soldiers say that there was an assassination attempt. They want to question all of us.”
Mikel’s fear slowly subsided. “Then we should go with them peacefully. We’ve done nothing wrong,
and it should only take a few moments for them to figure that out.”
Mikel finished pulling a comb through his shoulder length hair, then tied it at the base of his neck
with a strip of leather. He looked at the shattered mirror on the floor and scowled.
“Come with me,” he said. “We’ll have this sorted out in no time and be back to our shops to accept
this morning’s deliveries.”
They stepped out into the hall and directly into three Dutch soldiers.They pushed them roughly
into the street and towards a group of Englishmen already being corralled towards the camp’s
gates. Fearful whispers mixed with enraged indignation throughout the group. The sun had not
yet risen, but streaks of orange filtered through the dark clouds. The sun would be following soon.
“You have no right to pull me from my quarters, you heathen!” one man bellowed.
The nearest soldier reacted immediately with a fist to the man’s midsection.
“You will be questioned longer than your fellows if you continue to fight, filthy Brit,” the soldier
replied, not even trying to hide his contempt.
His countryman grunted, and Mikel noticed the angry bruise growing on the man’s face as he rose.
He must have already resisted once, Mikel thought.
He looked over at Harry to see his friend’s anger boiling on the surface.
“Patience, my friend,” Mikel said softly. “This is all a mistake, I’m sure.”
“I don’t think so, Mikel,” Harry replied under his breath, gritting his teeth. “We’ve had
disagreements before, but it’s never come to this. Where are the Ronin? Why aren’t they
protecting us from this? Isn’t that what we pay them for?”
“I don’t know where they are,” Mikel answered. “But you’re right, they should be here.”
Worry and doubt began to replace his confidence that they would be back at their shops by
breakfast. Where were the Ronin? The English paid the Japanese warriors to protect them.Why
had they allowed the Dutch soldiers to storm their camp? Where were the leaders of the English
East India Trading Company? Shouldn’t they be preventing this sort of treatment? Mikel paused as
realization struck him, causing Harry to bump into him.
“Keep moving!” A shout floated across the group, and Mikel started forward again.
“What if there was an assassination attempt?” Mikel whispered.
“It might explain the Ronins’ absence,” Harry replied quietly. “But that doesn’t bode well for us,
does it?”
Mikel shook his head, fear bubbling up in the pit of his empty stomach.
Chapter 2
Mikel
The entire group of Englishmen were unceremoniously pushed into a large room with no
windows and completely devoid of furniture. Mikel shuddered as the door slammed behind him,
and he heard the lock tumble into place. Shadows fell about the room; the only light coming from
two oil lanterns.
“If anyone knows what’s happening, now would be the time to spill it,” the man with the black eye
hissed above the fearful whispers.
Mikel and Harry looked at one another but remained silent.
“I heard the Dutch say that one of the Ronin attempted to kill the Dutchgovernor,” a raspy voice
said from the middle of the crowd.
“That’s ridiculous,” another man said. “Why would the Ronin want to kill the Dutch governor?”
“Maybe because we paid him to, you dolt,” a deep voice barely whispered from a far corner.
Everyone turned towards the man, who leaned casually against the rough wooden wall. He wore
dark pants and a white shirt similar to Mikel’s, but his straight black hair was short and combed to
the side. He pushed off the wall, and the room became silent as he moved towards the center.
“Think about it,” he began. “The governor has all but accused us of stifling his trade with the
Sultan. He believes we are undermining his business, despite our amicable cooperation for the last
several months.” He stopped in the middle of room and lowered his voice even more. “Why would
we allow a Dutchman to insult us in such a way?”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Of course, it does,” said the black-haired man. “If there is chaos in the Dutch camp, traders will
avoid it. We are the only other suppliers on the island, so who do they come to?”
“Your words will kill us all,” the black-eye man replied. “An Englishman would never stoop to such
atrocities. We will continue to trade with honor, even if the Dutch do not.” He puffed his chest out
and moaned in pain, grasping his stomach.
“Pompous idiot,” the dark-haired man mumbled. “I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking.”
“Then maybe you should keep your thoughts to yourself,” Mikel said. “I’m inclined to agree with
our honorable friend.” Mikel motioned towards the man with the swelling bruise around his eye.
Another man cleared his throat noisily and everyone turned towards the opposite corner.
“My room is next to the Ronin’s own sleeping quarters,” he said quietly. “When the Dutch showed up, they pulled the Japanese out first. There were only four Ronin left in the sleeping quarters
when there should have been dozens.” He swallowed loudly before continuing. “When the soldiers
asked where the rest of the men were, the Ronin replied that they were patrolling. The Dutchman
growled and asked if their patrol included the Dutch fortress.”
Several surprised gasps filled the room. The Dutch fortress, Victoria, was on the opposite side of
the trading camp. The Ronin should not have been there, just as the Dutch soldiers did not patrol
the English camp.
“I’m sure there’s a simple explanation,” Mikel replied, trying to calm his own nerves as well as
everyone else’s. “We’ll answer their questions honestly, and it will become apparent that we were
not part of whatever conspiracy they have imagined.”
A few of the men nodded in agreement and the room became silent.
Several hours passed before the first man was taken from the room. He didn’t return. After that,
another man was taken every half an hour or so.
“What does it mean that no one is coming back?” Harry whispered.
“I have to assume they are being allowed to go back to the English camp,” Mikel replied with
confidence.
“I hope we’re next. I’m tired of sitting on this hard, wooden floor with nothing to look at but a room
ful of Englishmen.” Harry said, his lip curled. “They could’ve at least brought us breakfast or lunch.”
Harry’s stomach rumbled and Mikel laughed.
“I agree. A pot of tea, with toast and jam would be welcome, if they couldn’t spare anything else.”
“Bah! They should be bringing hot sausage and cabbage, with potatoes.” Another man chimed in.
“Aye! It’s indecent to make us sit here in this stifled room without a privy and no food or drink.
They should get on with the questioning or send us home.”
“It’s not like we can go anywhere. We’re on an island. They could lock down the ports so we didn’t
; leave, if they’re that worried about questioning everyone.”
The banter continued throughout the day, but despite their requests, the Dutch would not provide
any relief.
The next time the door opened, Mikel was pulled from the room. He glanced at Harry and smiled.
“See you at the shop,” he quipped as the door closed.
Mikel shielded his eyes against the bright sun, a disturbing contrast to the room he just left. He
guessed it was late afternoon and hoped they would finish their questions quickly so he could
leave. His stomach grumbled, reminding him of his missed meals.
They led him to a nearby wooden building, with a single door at the end. Two soldiers stood on
opposite sides of the door and nodded at their comrades as they passed by. They entered a long
hall, and Mikel blinked his eyes several times trying to adjust from the bright sun to the gloomy darkness before him.
Make up your mind already. I’ll be blinded by the time we’re done.
One of the soldiers opened a door halfway down the hall and pushed him inside. Mikel gasped at
the smell and immediately regretted it. He covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve, trying to
filter out the putrid smells assaulting him and suddenly grateful for his empty stomach. He glanced
around but didn’t see anyone other than a large man, with strawberry blond hair standing in the
corner. The sleeves of his tan shirt were rolled to his elbows, and a leather apron covered his chest
and burlap trousers.
He said nothing as he approached Mikel, motioning for him to sit in a wooden chair near the wall.
Mikel complied, sitting with hands folded in his lap.
“What is your name?” the interrogator asked in English with a broken accent.
“Mikel Davis.”
“And what do you trade here on Ambon Island?” He stood directly in front of Mikel with his hands
behind his back.
Mikel realized the smel became stronger with the proximity of his interrogator. He wrinkled his
nose but answered.
“I’m selling leather goods and linens from my father’s stores in London,” Mikel replied politely.
“Surely your own merchants already know that. I’ve dealt with several of them many times.”
The man squinted his eyes and turned towards a low table in the corner where he originally
emerged from.
“Several of your fellow Englishmen have indicated that there was a plan to assassinate the
governor. Is this true?”
“I know nothing of an attempt to kill your governor, other than what was spoken in our holding
room this morning.”
The interrogator turned towards Mikel as he pulled a filthy towel from the bucket at his feet.
Reddish-brown water dripped from rag to the floor as he approached.
Mikel almost grinned. He thinks I should fear a wet towel.
“That’s what they all said, at first.” He grinned, revealing several broken teeth and black gums.
As if on cue, the door opened again and the same two soldiers entered the room. They each
grabbed one of Mikel’s elbows, wrenching them behind his back. One of them grabbed his long
hair and pul ed his head backwards, straining the muscles in this neck and forcing him to look at
the ceiling. He choked and found he could barely breathe, much less swallow.
He watched out of the corner of his eye as the toothless man carried a sloshing pail towards him
and the same filthy towel.
“Let’s see if your answer will change.”
Mikel watched his world go dark as the wet towel was lowered onto his face. It smelled of vomit
and blood. He pulled against the two soldiers, but their combined strength kept him immobile. He
tried kicking out with his legs to strike his torturer but met only air.
He heard the pail of water sloshing closer and realized what would happen next. Panic engulfed
him along with the fetid water that poured over his face.
Chapter 3
Mikel
Mikel awoke to the sound of water splashing against wood. Panic seized him as he remembered
his interrogation. The constant flow of water against his face, keeping him from breathing. Making
him feel like he was drowning, even though he sat in a chair in the middle of a dark room.
Please not again.
He took a deep breath and tried to open his eyes. His eyelids refused to separate and he gently
touched them with his fingertips. Several layers of thick crust covered his lashes. He groaned and
tried to pry them lose but stopped after a few moments realizing he needed something to wash
them with. The thought of more water on his face made him shudder.
He froze at the sound of a moan nearby, one that was not his own.
There’s someone in here with me. But where is here and why is water beating against the walls?
The room pitched forward slightly and settled back. Nausea rose in Mikel’s stomach.
I’m on a ship!
His memories flooded back. Even though they tortured him for what felt like hours, he never
changed his story. He couldn’t say anything but the truth. He had no idea if the Ronin were
planning an assassination. He was just a merchant trying to make a better life for his family.
Sadness overwhelmed him as he thought of his parents and younger sister. He battered down the
emotions and focused on the decision he made. A desperate decision.
They gave him two options. Join the Dutch campaign to widen their holdings in South America or
be executed with the other traitors. Mikel wasn’t ready to die, and he certainly wasn’t a traitor. He
would find a way to escape and be reunited with his family.
The groan next to him got louder and turned into a curse.
“Harry?” Mikel asked, hope bloomed in his chest as he recognized the voice.
“Mikel? Thank God it’s you.” Harry’s voice brought a flood of relief. They could plan their escape
together. “Why can’t I open my bloody eyes?”
“I can’t either. I’m assuming the filthy water they used caused our eyes to create this thick barrier.
I hope we can avoid infection. I don’t imagine we’ll be receiving the best care on this ship.”
Mikel heard his friend sigh, followed by several moments of silence. “I’m glad you made the same decision as I.” Mikel could hear the sadness in his voice. “Did they kill everyone else? Are we the
only ones here?”
Mikel listened to the waves crash against the side of the ship, their transport rocking in the same
rhythm.
“I don’t know.”
Mikel brushed his eyes with the corner of his shirt, trying to remove the barrier to his sight. It
came away in chunks and he felt his lashes coming out with it.
Great, I’ll look like afool with no eyelashes when I’m done.
After several painful minutes, he was able to pull one apart and peek at his surroundings. Harry
sat to his left, rubbing his filthy shirt against his eyes, much like Mikel had just done. Stacked on his
right were four barrels, with a wooden shelf just above them. Several thick candles dripped
puddles of wax on the floor, their flickering light revealed three wooden steps that led to a rounded
door. The door was closed, but Mikel couldn’t tell if it was locked. They were obviously alone.
“I think it’s just us,” Mikel said, continuing to free his other eye.
“Wel , damn!” Harry stifled his bellow, but barely. “I’m going to look like a fool with no eye lashes.
My sexy dark curls and beautiful sidebu
rns will be overshadowed by my naked eyes.”
Mikel laughed. “Seriously, that’s the first thing you thought to complain about?”
“Seriously! Your blond lashes blended with your skin anyway, no one will even miss them. But not
me, no!”
Mikel shook his head and sighed at his friends attempt at levity.
“This place smells horrible,” Harry said, wrinkling his nose. “I’m guessing there isn’t anything
edible in those barrels.” He looked at Mikel questioningly.
“I haven’t checked.” He stood, his body screaming protest, and tipped one of the barrels easily. “I
would assume not.” He pried off the lid to reveal nothing but emptiness. I know the feeling.
Harry stood and stretched his arms and legs, several of his joints popped with the movement. He
crept up the steps and pushed against the door. To both of their surprise, it swung open on silent
hinges. Harry looked back at Mikel and shrugged his shoulders.
“Shall we?”
Mikel fol owed his friend out of the small, musty room, down a long hall flanked with closed doors,
and up several more steps before emerging into the bright sunlight. Mikel shielded his face trying
to give his eyes time to adjust.
Sailors rushed about carrying large ropes and other items that were foreign to him. He had been
on several ships but was not at all familiar with the day-to-day duties of the sailors. Ahead of him
were two large masts, with the sails open and full.A strong windpul ed the massive ship through the waters.
“Glad ta see you sleeping beauties finally decided ta wake up!” A loud boisterous voice called out to
them from above.
Mikel looked towards the upper deck and spotted a short, but stout man behind the captain’s
wheel. He wore loose linen pants and tall boots. His bare, tattooed chest and arms were sprinkled
with dark hair, but the sun’s rays reflected off his completely bald head. Thick eyebrows cast
shadows over his deepset eyes that seemed to be evaluating Mikel and Harry despite his friendly
voice.
The captain leaned over to the man next to him and said a few words, then casually strolled down
the steps to the main deck. The first mate glared at them but said nothing as he took over the
wheel.