by Avell Kro
that Curly would come back with more soldiers to continue the search, which meant he had little
time to make his own escape. I wish they hadn’t taken my horse.
He quickly lowered himself down to the next wide limb, then the next, until he was his own height
from the ground. He balanced on the last limb for a few moments watching the remaining soldier
search the tree above him.
Raphael leapt from the branch, tucking his shoulder as he rolled to his feet. Three steps later, he
slammed the hilt of his small dagger into the face of the shocked soldier. Blood poured from the
gash in his forehead, and Raphael watched his eyes roll back. He didn’t wait for the man fall. He
ran as fast as he could into the thick underbrush and in the opposite direction of the enemy’s new
fort.
Raphael knew from his own experience that only a talented tracker could follow someone through
the jungle he lunged through. Several times he grasped low-hanging limbs, pulling himself into the
canopy, running along the connecting branches and falling back to the ground. Anything to
confuse his trail and give him more time to put greater distance between himself and his pursuers.
As the sun began to set, he climbed another tree and rested in the crook of one of the largest
branches. He listened intently for the sound of heavy boots or horses’ hooves in the underbrush,
but it never came. He remained silent until the only sounds reaching his ears were the many
species of birds and insects. I lost them.
He pul ed a water skin from his belt and frowned at the weight. Should I try to make it to camp
tonight? The remainder of his water and food were still with his horse. He knew it would take
several more hours on foot to reach the rest of his company, but the thought of wandering through
the jungle at night was not pleasing.
He unwound the rope he kept on his belt and tied several groups of small bones, that he always
saved in a pouch on his belt, along its length. He stood and wrapped the rope around the branches
above and below him, creating a web of bones. He settled back into the shallow crook of the tree
that would now serve as his bed for the night. He hoped the bone web would warn him if a night
time predator approached. But snakes tend to be smarter than the rest of us. He shook his head and
closed his eyes, intending to get a few hours of rest before he continued.
Chapter 7
Raphael
The clacking of bones awoke Raphael, and his eyes snapped open. He listened intently but didn’t
move, hoping he dreamed of the small noise. Clack-clack, and then the creak of too much weight
pressing against the limb above him.
Probably a large cat.
Raphael slowly wrapped his hand around the hilt of his dagger, pulling it from its sheath at his
chest, then rolled forward along the limb in front of him. The rough bark scratched his face and he
felt claws rake down his back. He rolled onto his feet, balancing easily on the wide branch. He
turned to face the predator that stalked him and met bright yel ow eyes set against black fur. The
cat was enormous, easily weighing as much as Raphael. It lowered its sleek body as it prowled
towards him and Raphael noticed one of its feet was covered in white. Odd.
The predator pounced and its prey leapt for the limb above them, raining a cascade of leaves
beneath him. A low feline rumble escaped a fanged smile as the cat looked up. Raphael returned
the smile and dropped onto the predator’s back, sinking his dagger into the flesh behind its
shoulder. A piercing yowl split the night air as man and beast fel to the ground.
Raphael’s fall was cushioned, but pain shot through his arm when he tried to push himself off the
shiny, black fur beneath him. The cat whimpered as Raphael’s weight shifted.
“I’m sorry this didn’t end the way you planned, but I won’t leave you here to suffer a long, painful
death.”
He slipped his dagger into the beast’s heart and waited until it stilled. Raphael shook his head and
tried to climb the tree to retrieve his rope. The bone and muscle just below his elbow screamed in
agony as he reached for the first limb.
Maybe I can come back for it later.
It was still several hours before sunrise. Even if the moon was out, its meager light wouldn’t get
past the thick canopy above his head. He knew he couldn’t stay near the dead cat. Other predators
and scavengers would discover it soon, and he didn’t want to be around when they did. So, he
started out again, praying he was still moving in the right direction and not back towards the
enemy.
Just as the sun started to rise, he reached a small stream. He fell to the ground and scooped water
with his right hand, then splashed it on his face. It was cool and refreshing. He refilled his water
skin and took in his surroundings. The sun was coming up behind him and to the right, which
meant he was heading southwest.
Exactly where I needed to go. Thank God I didn’t get lost out here in the dark.
He turned to his left and let his gaze follow the stream. The trees opened up to reveal the gray face
of the mountains, peaking out above the jungle’s canopy and wisps of smoke. He struggled to gain
his footing, cradling his left arm against his chest, and followed the gently flowing water into the
Portuguese army’s camp.
Chapter 8
Raphael
Raphael finished reporting what he’d learned of the Dutch army’s newest fort. He stood at
attention, almost. He couldn’t straighten his left arm and could feel the blood pooling at the base of
his spine.
The gouges must have opened again. I really need to see a medic.
“Did you have any personal items on your horse, soldier?” the captain asked with condescension.
“No, sir,” Raphael replied. “It is against the rules to carry anything of value or that would identify
me.”
“And you’re sure they didn’t follow you here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Raphael turned to leave and the captain spoke again.
“Good work, soldier.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Raphael left the captain’s tent with a sigh of relief. The captain didn’t compliment his men very
often, so when he did, it was well deserved. It was an even greater compliment to Raphael. He was
not Portuguese but born in a small town on the western coast of South America. His father was a
Portuguese soldier, but his mother was from one of the local villages they first encountered.
Raphael inherited his mother’s thick, dark hair and square features, but he had his father’s blue
eyes and tanned skin.
A young officer discovered Raphael’s tracking skills and recruited him into the local garrison
before he was seventeen. It had taken Raphael over of a year to prove his worth and a small
semblance of acceptance. The young scout smiled as he headed towards the medical building.
It was a large, barracks style building constructed of stacked logs, much like every other building in
their camp. Four, evenly spaced windows lined each wall; the shutters wide open to allow the
infrequent breeze to travel through. He limped up the steps and entered the already opened doors.
“Raphael Silva Lopez! What have you done this time?”
Raphael recognized the loud, boisterous voice of his friend, Jo
aquim, who was also one of the
medics.
“I got in a fight with a puma,” Raphael replied with a grin.
“And you walked away?”
“More like stumbled.” He chuckled and found his way to one of the empty beds.
“Sit down and tell me all about it.”
Joaquim turned to a large cabinet against the wall while Raphael lowered himself onto the thin,
straw-stuffed mattress.
“What’s causing you the most pain?” Joaquim asked, setting a bag on the bed next to him.
“My back is oozing a steady stream of blood, but I believe my arm is broken,” Raphael replied.
Joaquim tapped his chin once.
“Let’s remove your jacket and shirt, then we’ll make a decision about what’s most important.”
Raphael slid his right arm out of his jacket and then his left with the medic’s help. They repeated
this process with his shirt. Joaquim walked around the bed and gasped at the sight of Raphael’s
back.
“We’l need to clean and stitch this first. The broken arm can wait.” He pulled his medical kit to his
side, fetched a bowl of clean water and went to work. “Tell me about your battle with the puma.”
Raphael gritted his teeth as his friend cleaned the claw marks on his back. He knew the medic was
trying to distract him and was grateful for the tactic. So, he told him about how the cat snuck up on
him and their subsequent fight.
“Really? You tied a bunch of bones on a string and hung it in the tree?” Joaquim asked. “This is
going to hurt. Maybe you should lie down before I start stitching.”
Raphael laid down on his stomach, wincing at the pressure on his arm. He turned his head away
from the medic.
“Yes, and it worked perfectly.” Raphael gripped the edge of the thin mattress with his good hand as
the needle pierced the flesh on his back. “I would’ve been breakfast, lunch and dinner for that cat.”
“Can you tel me what you found during your scouting mission?”
“I don’t see why not. The Dutch are building a fort in the middle of the jungle, about a day’s walk
from here.”
The medic paused and Raphael felt the thread pull tight.
“That’s not good.” He continued pressing the needle through Raphael’s skin. “But I suppose it
should be expected. We certainly didn’t stop at the coast, so why would they?”
“I suppose, but their persistence will only lead to more deaths.”
“Hmm. You’re probably right,” Joaquim said. “Let’s get you upright and look at that arm.”
Joaquim made his way around the bed again, as Raphael sat up.
“Here, drink this.” He put a clay cup, with dark liquid, in Raphael’s right hand and then started
poking at his left.
Raphael swallow half the contents of the cup, feeling the dark liquid burn all the way to his
stomach. He looked at his swollen and bruised arm, with the skin stretched tight. The medic made
a splint and wrapped it around his arm, then created a sling to keep it from moving.
“Do you think they know we’re here?” Joaquim asked as he tied the knot in the sling at Raphael’s
neck. “I think it’s just sprained but try not to move it.”
“I don’t see how they wouldn’tknow. If their scouts are even remotely competent, they must have
gotten close enough to see the smoke from our fires and investigated,” Raphael replied, sliding off
the edge of the bed. “Thank you for your care. I’ll do my best to keep everything intact.”
“I wonder how the captain will react to the new information.”
“I don’t know, but hopefully it doesn’t involve me for a few days.”
Chapter 9
Mikel
“What the hell?” Harry bellowed.
Mikel agreed with the exclamation as they tried to right themselves in their small cabin. They’d
both been thrown from their hammocks into a puddle of water on the floor.
“Something just collided with the ship.” Mikel rubbed the bruise forming on his brow from his
impact with the foot locker. Cold water rolled down his face.
The ship pitched sideways and the two men were thrown from their feet again, hitting the
opposite wall. The door to their small room burst open to reveal the captain and another rush of
water.
“Come with me, quickly!” The bald man left the two Englishmen looking at one another with
confusion.
They rushed out the door into darkness, only to be greeted by harsh winds and torrential rains.
Lightning flashed across the sky giving Mikel enough light to see the battered sails and crewmen
running across the deck.
“Wrap this around your middle,” Captain Smith handed Mikel a rope, which he wrapped around his
waist. The captain’s rough hands skillful y tied a knot in the rope as he continued. “This will keep
ye on the ship during the storm, but if I call to abandon ship, ye need to pull the knot right here.”
He showed Mikel how to quickly release the knot, but fear threatened the merchant’s will, and he
wasn’t sure he would remember.
“Look here, lad,” the captain said, smacking Mikel’s shoulder. “Don’t panic. The sea’s fury is not
unnatural.”
Mikel nodded and looked over at Harry, who bore the same expression. One of the other sailors
had just finished tying the rope around Harry’s waist. Lightning streaked across the sky once
more, only to reveal a wall of water on the starboard side.
“Captain!” the first mate yelled from the helm. “We need your help!”
Two men already held the wheel, but just barely. The captain raced up the steps and grabbed a
spoke on the large wheel just as the wave crashed into them.
Mikel flew through the air and landed hard on the wooden deck. He heard Harry curse next to him
and reached towards him. The deck was tilted dangerously far and he feared they would capsize.
“Hold on my friend. This can’t last all night,” Harry yelled against the pouring rain and rol ing thunder.
“My rope!”
Mikel turned as one of the crew slide towards him on the deck. The man grasped at the rope in
front of him, but couldn’t hold onto the wet, slippery strands.
Mikel reached out and caught his shirt, halting the man’s slide towards angry waters below.
“Grab my arm and pull yourself towards my tether,” Mikel called to him.
The sailor nodded, his fear and appreciation clear in his eyes.
The ship pitched again into an upright position, tossing the men to the opposite side of the deck.
As soon as they gathered their feet, Mikel located the sailor’s tether and wrapped it around the
man’s waist.
“I cannot tie the knot, but I’ll make sure the sea doesn’t claim you before you finish.” Mikel said
holding the fabric of the man’s shirt.
“Thank you.”
Lightning lit the sky once more, and Mikel looked at the men surrounding him. They were all
soaked and weary, each holding onto to the rope that tied them to the center mast of the ship.
“It’l be over soon, boys!” the captain yelled from the top deck. “I can see the moon forcing the
clouds away.”
A col ective sigh of relief washed over the crew as another wave tried to drown them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mikel watched the battered and weary crew untie their tethers and count the number of empty
lines. They lost three of their fellow mates, including the man Mikel caught before he fel into
the
raging waters. Apparently, his knot had failed again.
“We’re only a day from port,” the captain said as he walked among his men. “We’l rest today and
mend the sails; then we’ll mourn for our lost.” He turned and looked at the two Englishmen. “You
two follow me.”
Mikel and Harry looked at one another and shrugged, then followed the Captain below deck.
“Thank you for yer efforts to save Clive,” he said in a rough voice. “He never was any good at tying
his knots. I’d always checked his before,” he paused and cleared his throat. “I need ye to clean up
below deck. All the storage areas are a mess. Sort out what can be saved and what will need
replacin’. Bring me a list when yer done.”
“Yes, Captain,” Mikel replied, surprised that the man trusted them with this task.
The captain turned to leave and stopped. “Good luck when we dock, lads.”
Chapter 10
Mikel
After many weeks at sea, Mikel was relieved to see land and know they wouldn’t be forced to stay
on the ship. He and Harry had already conceived their plan to escape and waited patiently at the
rail as the dock workers tied off the massive ship.
“The soldiers are waiting for us,” Harry said softly.
“Yes, they aren’t taking any chances.”
“Doesn’t it seem odd that we’re the only ones?” Harry asked turning towards his friend. “Shouldn’t
there be others from the island here as well, or were we the only ones who chose not to be
executed?”
“I’d like to think others survived,” Mikel replied, his gaze still focused on the dock workers.
“Captain Smith said they executed a dozen of our countrymen. Does that mean the rest were
released?” He turned towards Harry with a troubled expression. “Were we tricked into coming
here, or did they send the others to another location?”
Harry shook his head and Mikel shared his frustration.
“It’s time to go, lads,” the captain said as he approached. “Good luck to ye.”
“Thank you, Captain, for making our captivity bearable.” Harry bowed dramatically.
“Bah! Get off me ship.”
They fol owed the captain down the plank to the waiting Dutch soldiers.