Love's Odyssey

by Toombs, Jane

  From the direction of the tents, Romell heard men shout and call. At first she paid no attention, her eyes on Pieter and Jan warily circling each other. But the yelling from camp took on an urgent note, and Romell stepped around the barricade and looked toward the tents. Beyond them, on the beach, figures stood waiting as the men from camp started toward them.

  Romell screamed out Adrien's name and began racing toward the shore.

  Chapter 12

  The six men stranded on the small island soon gave up hope of crossing the shark-infested waters. By tacit agreement, Adrien assumed leadership of the group and set a lookout every day and every night, all of the men taking turns.

  By the night they guarded against possible attack from the other island. By day they did, too, but also scanned the seas for any sign of the rescue ship.

  "The skipper and Brouwer must plan on taking over any ship sent from Batavia," Adrien reasoned. "Otherwise, they'll all hang."

  No one disagreed. Mutilated bodies from the other island—one a child's—had washed up on the shore.

  "I can't get over the skipper being in on it," Brom would say every day or so. "I know he drank too much, but I still don't understand." Brom was a clerk with the VOC, on his way to a post in Batavia.

  "I told you what I heard on the Zuiderwind, Loomis, one of the soldiers, always answered. "Skipper Hardens got mixed up with them Adamites after Pieter Brouwer gave him the pictures."

  Adrien thought it was more than this. He'd heard about the miniatures Pieter had shown the crew and the other soldiers, although he'd never seen them. Pictures painted by a Dutchman twenty years or so ago, showing men and women together in ways to arouse a man's lust. While these paintings may have contributed to Jan Hardens' installing Loulie in his cabin, Adrien couldn't believe they'd influenced him to go against his character.

  No, the skipper had the seeds of brutality and murder within him before he ever met Pieter and heard of the Adamites. It wasn't fair to blame the sect for the carnage either. Many atrocities had been committed these past years in the name of God that surely must appall Him. How many innocent souls, for instance, had the Inquisition tortured and burned?

  Adrien tried never to think of Romell. He didn't want to believe her dead, yet he knew if she lived, she must be no better than Pieter's slave. Or worse. Why had he been so blind as to leave her alone, without protection?

  Loomis discovered small rodents living in burrows on the island, and by trapping these animals, collecting birds' eggs and fishing, food wasn't a problem. The tiny spring was adequate to keep them in water. Early on, Adrien had collected driftwood to put atop the highest mound and laid a fire for signaling any rescue ship.

  But, as the weeks passed, the men grew discouraged.

  "What if the sloop never got to Batavia," Brom said, not for the first time. "Then we'll have to hope a ship passes close enough so we sight her sails and can signal," Adrien answered patiently.

  "Supposing she thinks we're a bunch of heathen blacks, sitting around a campfire, and pays no mind?" Brom went on.

  "Then we'll wait until providence whips up a good storm to send us enough driftwood to fashion a raft like Pieter's," Adrien said stubbornly.

  "There's too many of them to take on and they've got more arms."

  "We can sail for the mainland." Adrien pointed to the dark smudge on the eastern horizon. "Can't be more than thirty miles—maybe forty."

  "And overrun with black cannibals."

  "What would you have me say, then? That we must lie down and give up? Never!"

  Brom shook his head, not answering, then got up to climb the rise for his turn at lookout duty.

  Adrien carefully marked each new day by scratching a line with the tip of his knife on a rock. They'd been on the island fifty-eight days. The Zuiderwind had gone aground on the reef ten days before that—over two months. How had Romell fared in these fifty-eight days? Was it possible she liked Pieter well enough so she didn't mind . . . ? No, damn, he wasn't going to think about her.

  "Seals!" Brom called from his hill. "A herd of seals! They're crawling onto the rocks off the north side of the island."

  Adrien, Loomis, and Olav--the third soldier was to stand lookout tonight and so was sleeping-- immediately headed for the rocks. Johan, the other civilian, was collecting water, a tedious project, and Adrien didn't alert him. The seals watched them splash out to the rocks without showing any alarm, and it was a simple matter for the soldiers to skewer one each with their pikes. When blood flowed onto the rocks, the other seals took fright and plunged back into the water. Adrien managed to cut the throat of a third seal, and the men dragged the dead animals back to the island.

  "Must of been twenty or so, maybe more," Loomis said. "Friendly critters, like killing a cow."

  "Sail! Sail!" The shout came from Brom, who leaped up and down on his hill like a jumping jack.

  Adrien dropped the seal he carried and raced to Brom, who pointed to the northwest. Shading his eyes, Adrien made out a white dot against the blue-green sea.

  "The fire!" he cried. "Light the signal fire."

  The dry wood caught readily, and the men hurried to put dampened wood on the flames to produce more smoke. But the wind, which blew briskly from the west, whisked the smoke away before it had a chance to rise.

  "I doubt they'll see it," Brom said.

  If the approaching ship noticed the smoke, no one aboard gave the anxious men on the small island any sign. She bore down steadily until they could identify her as a yacht.

  "We've got to warn them," Adrien said.

  "Could fire my musket when they get close enough," Loomis suggested. "They'd hear."

  "But they wouldn't know it was just a signal, that we mean them no harm." Adrien shook his head. "No, I've got to get out to that ship before they drop anchor and send a boat off to the other island."

  "You planning to ride a shark?" Loomis asked.

  "I can straddle a piece of planking and paddle out," Adrien said.

  "How you going to keep your legs from the sharks?"

  "I'll tow a dead seal. They'll fight over it and let me alone."

  Loomis shook his head. "That's a hell of a chance to take. I wouldn't want to be out there with the sharks coming at me."

  "I don't want to be shot by those scum on the other island either," Adrien said, "or abandoned here. If they take over the ship, we're done for."

  All the men stared at him somberly. It was the first he'd admitted aloud that they had no chance but the ship.

  "You'd best take my pike with you," Loomis said finally.

  Romell reached the throng of shouting men on the beach and plunged into the melee, shouting, "No, don't, you mustn't kill him!" She grasped the arm of a man with a club, then fell back in surprise when she saw what he was attacking: a seal.

  The man shook Romell off. He and the others hacked and clubbed at the seals. Although she knew the meat would be welcome, Romell was sickened by the cries of the beasts, and the blood spurting onto the sand reminded her of a day not long ago when it had been human blood.

  She fought to control her tears. Against all reason, she'd been certain that Adrien had come to rescue her—how could she have mistaken the seals for men? She'd discovered she could face her circumstances with more courage if she didn't cry, and she wouldn't cry now.

  If Adrien still lived, he was safer where he was, for Pieter or any of the others would kill him on sight if he reached this island.

  She watched as Pieter, then Jan, ran past her to join the men at the water's edge. Food was more important than revenge, she thought, smiling grimly to herself.

  The entire camp gathered on the beach, chasing survivors of the seal herd or cutting up those already dead. Romell took part by putting meat into an iron pot for stewing, shutting her mind to the blood and the smell of death.

  At first no one paid any attention to Catarina when she wandered down to join them. Everyone, even the men who still used her, knew her wits were addled.


  "I saw it, I saw it," she kept repeating. At last her voice reached Rommel, who turned to stare at the girl. Catarina hadn’t said a word for months. What had stirred her into speech?

  "What did you see, Catarina?" she asked

  But Catarina, staring at the blood on Romell’s arms and hands didn’t answer. Romell hurried to the water and washed herself. With her arms clean and dripping water, she came back to Catarina.

  "What did you see?" she repeated.

  The girl didn’t speak but turned to look northward. She started in that direction.

  Romell followed her, looking north, but saw nothing at first except the curve of the smaller island. But then… "Oh my God!" she gasped.

  At the same time she heard a man shout behind her, "A ship! A ship!"

  Everyone turned to look. Jan Hardens immediately began shouting orders. The men hauled the raft to the water for launching.

  "They’ll be sending a supply boat once they anchor," Jan explained, "thinking we need food and water. Pieter and his men’ll take care of the sailors from the boat after it lands. The raft will have reached the ship by then and I’ll be aboard with my men."

  "When Pieter brings the boatload of you back to the ship—some of you dressed in the sailors’ clothes—then there’ll be enough of us to take over. Understood?"

  If only I could alert the ship, Romell thought as she watched Jan climb onto the raft with seven other men. But she knew it was impossible.

  "Take them goddamned jewels off your neck," Jan ordered one of the men. "You want to make them suspicious? Time enough for gold and jewels later."

  Catarina huddled against Romell, eyes fastened on the ship preparing to anchor off to the north of the island to avoid dangerous reefs. "I saw it," she whispered. "Come to take me away."

  Romell put an arm around her, her throat tight with pain and anger. Soon she'd be aboard that ship and as much Pieter's prisoner as ever. And Catarina--would she even be taken aboard? Romell bit her lip. I won't allow her to be left behind, she vowed. Pieter'll bring her along if I ask. I'll take care of her.

  Romell was herded into Pieter's tent with the other three women and Catarina, and a guard with a pike was stationed at the door.

  "Safety, ha!" Margitte said. "They think we'll shout a warning, give them away."

  "Well, wouldn't we?" Romell asked. "I certainly intended to." She eyed the guard. But even if the others would join her in rushing him, Pieter and his men were waiting outside the tent for the boat to land.

  Margitte shrugged. "Being English, you don't know what the Dutchman says about his windmill. You’d do well to heed the advice: ‘Wait until you see out of which corner the wind blows.’''

  "Uit welke hock de wind waait," Catarina repeated.

  Margitte laughed. "Even the mad girl knows it. She has more sense than you, Romell."

  Adrien, stretched out on his stomach on the planking, paddled desperately. Behind him the water churned and frothed bloodily as the sharks disposed of the dead seal. He'd dropped the seal the moment he spotted the first fin, but now he wondered if the carcass hadn't attracted every shark in the area. He headed toward the yacht, swinging at anchor, and tried not to think that one of the sinister fish might be beneath him even now, turning, opening the great mouth with its rows of sharp teeth.

  He'd once heard a one-legged fisherman say that when the shark bit off his leg he'd never even felt the loss, that he couldn't believe it when his mates dragged him back aboard the fishing boat and he'd seen the bloody stump.

  Adrien raised his head to look at the rescue ship and saw a small boat pulling away toward the big island. He changed course to intercept it, forcing his tired arms and legs to move faster. As he closed the gap and saw that the boat would be by him before he could reach it, he gave a great yell. As he shouted, he saw a huge grey fin come toward him and begin its deadly circle.

  "Shark!" he heard the men in the boat cry, then a babble of voices that he shut out as he gripped Loomis' pike and tried to follow the shark's fin.

  Impossible to use the lance from his position on the plank. The men in the boat were too far away to help. Adrien took a deep breath and slid off into the water, maneuvering the pike into striking position. In the muted green of the water, he saw the light underbelly of the mammoth fish as the shark closed in for the kill.

  Adrien thrust the pike into its belly, twisting upward. The shark veered away, coming so close its tail rasped Adrien's thighs. The water clouded with blood as Adrien rose to the surface. He struck out for the boat, and moments later, hands yanked him over the side. Adrien lay gasping on the bottom. He forced his head up to check his legs, then his arms.

  One of the sailors, understanding, laughed. "You're all there mate, excepting maybe a finger. The right hand's bloody."

  Adrien sat up. The tip of his fourth finger was gone, sheared neatly away. The sailor flung him a kerchief, and he wrapped his hand tightly to staunch the bleeding.

  "Never seen so many of them devils in one place another man marveled. "Must be a dozen or so."

  Adrien looked over the side where the water swirled in turmoil as other sharks attacked the one he'd wounded.

  "Don't go to the island," he said, breathing hard. "Head back to the ship."

  "Who the hell are you?" The boatswain demanded. "Only a damned fool'd be in the water with sharks about."

  "Is Commandeur Zwaan aboard the ship?" Adrien asked, his breath coming easier now.

  The boatswain nodded.

  "I'm Adrien Montgomery. You've got to get me to the commandeur. If you land on that island, you'll be taken captive."

  "Raft ahead!" a sailor called.

  Adrien turned and saw that the raft had put out from shore. "Listen!" he ordered. "I tell you there's been murder done and they mean to capture your ship. I must see Commandeur Zwaan before that raft gets to the yacht."

  "I don't know—"

  "Damn it, I didn't swim through a school of sharks to argue! If you value your life, turn back to the ship immediately."

  As the boatswain gruffly ordered the boat to reverse direction, Adrien kept his eyes on the raft moving full sail toward the yacht.

  Romell heard the call, "Supply boat coming!" for the second time. Earlier one of the men had shouted the same thing, but since then over an hour had passed—or so it seemed. Romell paced restlessly, hardly able to bear waiting inside the tent, not knowing what was happening.

  Catarina lay curled up in a ball next to the stolid Anna, who sat with her eyes closed. Margitte had taken a spot as far away from Loulie as she could get, and the ex-maid eyed her former mistress malevolently.

  "Can't you go out and take a look to see what's going on?" Romell asked the guard for the fourth time.

  "Pieter said I wasn't to budge from this tent," he told her again, flourishing his pike. "Nor you, neither. It don't do to make him mad."

  Romell resumed her pacing, passing Loulie.

  "Going to cut that bitch's face so no man wants her," the blonde was muttering, staring at Margitte. "Going to do for her, wait and see. . . ."

  After what seemed an interminable wait, Romell heard shouts and gunfire. The guard, unable to control his curiosity, stuck his head out of the tent. As soon as his back was turned, Romell rushed at him, pushed him sideways as hard as she could. When he staggered and fell to one knee, she slipped through the tent flap and raced toward the noise. To her surprise, Margitte appeared at her side.

  "... not going to stay shut up with that crazy slut," Margitte said, panting with the effort to keep up with Romell.

  When she reached the windbreak by the water barrels, Romell paused. Ahead of her on the north shore, two boats, and the raft were drawn up. Men fought one another with pikes and swords and knives. A musket roared. Three men already lay motionless on the sand.

  "Surrender now!" a voice shouted above the clang of metal. "We have Skipper Hardens in chains."

  At that moment, Romell saw Adrien, sword in hand, a man dead at his
feet. "Adrien!" she screamed, running toward the shore.

  Adrien looked up and saw her racing toward him. Behind her came two other women, but he had eyes only for Romell. He left the fight, vaulting over a body, and hurried to her. As he was about to take her into his arms, he saw one of the women behind her stoop beside a man sprawled on the sand. When she rose, a knife blade glinted in the red rays of the setting sun. He froze, watching as this woman lunged at the second, who he saw now was Margitte.

  Margitte fell, screaming. Adrien sprinted past Romell and caught the knife-wielder's arm, in time to prevent her from plunging the blade a second time into the helpless Margitte, belatedly realizing that the attacker was Loulie.

  "Let me go!" she shrieked. "You bastard, let me at her. I'll kill her—I'll kill her!" Loulie kicked and fought, and it was all Adrien could do to force her to drop the knife. At their feet, Margitte moaned and clutched her bleeding shoulder.

  At last, Adrien managed to twist Loulie's arm behind her, and the knife fell into the sand. A sailor came up and Adrien turned the subdued Loulie over to him. He turned then to look for Romell.

  She wasn't where he'd left her. Alarmed, Adrien called her name. There was no answer. He ran, shouting, "Romell! Romell!" but she didn't reply. As he searched the island, he noticed that the raft was gone.

  "A sailor took a red-headed woman who was hurt out to the ship on the raft," one of the men guarding the rowboats told him. "He was carrying her—she looked half dead. Asked to use the boat, but I said he couldn't 'cause I had my orders."

  Adrien examined the stretch of water between the island and the yacht, but saw no sail. "Did you know the man?" he asked.

  "Don't seem like I did," the sailor said, "now I think on it. Not for certain."

  Adrien sprinted to the high point on the island and looked in all directions. At last he spotted the raft midway in the channel between the two islands, but sailing along the channel rather than across it. He could scarcely see the white sail in the gathering dusk.

  "He's heading for the mainland," Adrien said aloud, suddenly certain who had taken Romell aboard the raft. Pieter Brouwer.