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  We sailed on thus for days, on glass-calm waters, the winds dying in our sails. The first mate was called upon to dispense rough justice in several cases of petty theft,; crewmen looting the rations of their mates for a crumb or swallow of water. Those which defied the law were given the lash, as their due, but this served as insufficient deterrent to the others, and still the unrest grew.

  Finally, on a still, hot day, the sun hanging high in the sky, the fo'c'sle called out land ho, and we pulled the rigging to, pushing what little wind there was to drive us toward the sighted land. It was hours before we dropped anchor; the crew crowded in the bow like rats, anxious for solid ground.

  The island was little more than a sand bar, a few score miles around, but it bore on its back trees and thick grasses, and birds could be heard over the sea air. There was water, then, and enough for us all.

  Leaving the bos'n at the helm, the first mate and I, along with some dozen of our crew, put out in dinghies and made for the shore. The men rowed with vigor, eager to run aground and drink their fill of whatever water they might find.

  Coming ashore, we beached the boats and made our way inland, cutting our way through the thick growth, reaching at last an inland lake. The first mate was the first to test the water, and through his broken teeth pronounced the water the finest he'd ever tasted. I let the men drink their full, and then instructed them to bring the casks from the dingy and to fill them to capacity. The mate and I then led a small party further inland to forage for food.

  We had gone perhaps a dozen strides when one of the crewmen remarked on broken branches amongst the undergrowth. We at first thought this the work of a large boar, perhaps, or some other rough beast, but further on the mate caught sight of foot-prints which, though small in dimension, bore the unmistakable sign of human passage.

  We proceeded more warily then, making our way inland with watchful eyes, every hand at the pommel of a cutlass. We heard indistinct sounds as we progressed, calls from the trees, but they were too faint and too far away to be identified. We reasoned that the inhabitants of the island had become aware of our presence, and were warning their kin of our approach.

  After a slow hour's march through the trees, we came at last to a wide clearing, where a waterfall crashed gently down the side of a high rock. Gathered in the clearing, around the base of the rock, stood four and twenty children, of all sizes and ages, both male and female. They were clad in clean clothes, though some a bit ragged and torn, and from their complexions and attires seemed to represent each of the sea-faring races of the globe. The children were calm, almost serene, and looked upon our party with great interest.

  The oldest of the children, a girl dressed in the manner of a young English lady, stepped forward from the mass and addressed our group.

  Gentles, she said, have you come to take us home?

  She spoke in the King's own English, did this strip of a girl, and looked upon us with eyes as open and honest as any I might ever have seen.

  I answered her as best I could, saying that we had not come with those intentions, but that if she and her company needed transport to their homes my ship was at their disposal.

  The girl nodded, as if she had expected no other answer, and then turned to look towards her fellows. Without a word between them, the children drew themselves into a single line, and then the English girl indicated that they were ready to follow.

  Struck dumb, I signaled my men to turn and retreat for the shore, and then with the mate beside me stood and watched as my crew led the strange band of children out of the clearing and into the trees. As they passed, a number of the children turned to us and offered their thanks, and I was amazed to hear pass their lips every language with which I have become accustomed, and some many more besides. Only a fraction of those children spoke a word of English, it transpired, and on the main spoke no other language than their own. After careful count, the crew and I counted some dozen different languages, some good portion of which not one of my men could identify.

  After replenishing our provisions, we raised anchor and set sail, this time for the coast of Spain. There is a nunnery there with which I have had some dealings, having aided them on one or two occasions when members of that order took to sea and met with misfortune. I knew they would take the children in and, should they be unable to find their own homes, at least find suitable accommodations for them.

  In the course of our weeks in travel to the continent, I had occasion to question the older girl, and others with whom I could communicate, about their circumstance. From what I was able to gather, each of the children had, at different times, been the victim of some catastrophe at sea, either through shipwreck, or fire, or intercession of brigands. Somehow, miraculously, each of the children survived, and found their way onto the island upon which we had discovered them. From their accounts, the lost ships in question numbered at least a half-dozen, perhaps three times that many. Furthermore, in those infrequently travelled waters, it seems hardly likely that ships from so many ports of call would meet with calamity within swimming distance of a single speck of an island.

  When I questioned the children about this, they could only say that they had been taken somewhere peaceful and safe, and then we had arrived to rescue them. There was the intimation that there was some agency at work here, as though someone had transported them to that island for safe keeping, or else to some other locale, and then to the island where we would find them. Where this other locale might be, in that empty and barren stretch of water, and whom the agents of their rescue might be, I could not say.

  The bos'n, for his part, was sure it bore all the marks of the divine hand, and that angels themselves had rescued the children. Others of the crew spoke of Fiddler's Green, and other mythical places of seamen's repose. For myself, I have no such answer, no such certainty. As regards the lost children found ashore, I have only questions.

  After reaching the waters of Spain, we sailed along the coast until we came to the nunnery. Then, putting to shore, we entrusted the children to the care of the sisters. Thereafter, our provisions stocked and our arms ready for action, we put again to sea, going north into the Channel, where we encountered an English ship heavy laden with goods, bound for Dover from the New World. She was at the end of a long journey, and we aided her in lightening her cargo. From there to Majorca, and then back to the high seas.

  We must not have been far a'course, brother, the sister observed, for in just that season I myself was steering my Rover through the Straits of Hercules, and into the wine-dark waters of the Middle Sea. My tale, too, involves members of a holy order, though in my case they were less charitable than the objects of charity themselves.

  Chapter 4

  We had been sailing long weeks since last we had sighted another ship, the sister continued, and my men grew hungry for some business to tend to. We came at last upon a galley ship, Spanish by her colours, lying heavy in the water, bound for the northern coast of Africa. There was a second ship close to, which had the look of a French vessel but flew no King's flag. The second ship was secured by grappling hooks to the first, and as we watched a boarding party swarmed from the second onto the decks of the first. They were, we had no doubt, freebooters, anxious for whatever booty they might take from the galley.

  Though we had no especial love for either the crew of the Spanish ship nor of the Freebooter, there is nonetheless something in the breast of man which stirs on seeing a crime in progress, the victim helpless, so we threw our lot in with the underdogs. Coming 'round the two ships, we sailed close to the Freebooter, and, grappling our own ship to her, made ready to send across boarders. The crew, ranged through the rigging, cutlass and pistols in hand, watched for my signal which, when the time was right, I issued.

  Then, leaving only a skeletal crew aboard the Rover, we swarmed over the deck of the Freebooter, dispatching what little resistance we met, and then like garden frogs leaping from one stone to the next moved on to the Spanish galley. Using the freebo
oters' own rigging, we leapt to the deck of the galley, and with wild eyes met the scoundrels like a hurricane's gale. They, at first taken completely unawares, were slow to retaliate, but soon regrouped, and then tried to press their advantage, hacking their way through my crew, trying to drive us from the galley's deck. Their plan was an ill-considered one, however, for in trying to drive us from their prey they succeeded only in forcing a number of my crew back onto the Freebooter herself, where they were quite capable of repelling the scoundrels' attacks.

  I myself, my Mate at my side, drove the attack onto the Main Deck, felling innumerous freebooters as we went, until at last the Pirate Captain and myself stood face to face, our gored blades in hand. He smiled a gap-toothed smile at me, and then offered some greeting or challenge in his mongrel tongue, which I could not fathom the meaning of, bowed his head, ever so slightly, and then came en garde. I lifted my cutlass before me, weaving its point in pirouettes in the air, and parried his every thrust, driving his own blade with a wrench away from its intended target. Long minutes we dueled thus, until at last he began to waver, and dropped his guard, and I made the killing thrust. He fell, his face a mask of surprise, and lay a blooded heap upon the deck.

  The galley was taking on water now, the holes burst in its hull by the Freebooter's cannon below the waterline. Once the last of the Freebooter crew was dispatched, I urged my own men to go below, free what galley slaves they could, and tend to whatever booty might be salvaged from the ship. I myself made my way across the deck to the Captain's Cabin, my Mate still at my side.

  The door to the Cabin had been burst open, and the Freebooters already inside, having only come back out into the open air when our Rovers' crew had come aboard. Inside, in the well-appointed cabin, I found a riot of corpses, littering the thick Persian rug. Each was lain in an aspect of distress, as though they had struggled against their death, and met a grisly demise for their trouble. One or two were women, high born from the looks of their clothing and the jewelry the scoundrels had yet to rip from their cut throats, and there were also three men dressed in the black robes of the followers of some Holy Order. They lay close by one another, each more gashed and mutilated than the last, and their cold faces bore expressions of such determination, the likes of which I have rarely seen. I could not place their Order, none carrying any of the distinguishing signs of the Benedictine or Dominican, though I did note that in the place of the expected Cruciform each wore a medallion showing a fourarmed spiral, encircled with a band. These medallions, of silver, were hung on heavy cords about each's neck, and one of them had seemed to grasp the emblem at the moment of his death, so rigid still was his hold upon it.

  The third of the mendicants, lying farthest from the door, held clutched in his cold fingers a book, a thick tome bound in leather which, when we pulled it free of his grasp and inspected the contents, was comprised of pages of unimaginable age covered in dozens of different hands, in a dozen different tongues. Emblazoned on the cover was the same banded spiral, here engraved on a glittering silver shield. This Book, no doubt a text of holy writ, or else the history of their Order, I entrusted to the care of the Mate, and then turned to the business of inspecting the remainder of the Cabin.

  When the surviving slaves had been transferred across the deck of the listing Freebooter, and were safely on the Rover, I gave the order to abandon ship, first the galley and then the Freebooter, and with the crew complete on the deck of the Rover, had them cut loose the grappling lines, and we were away. As we sailed on towards the north coast of Africa, there to discharge our passenger slaves, we watched as the two ships, locked in a deadly embrace, sank slowly beneath the calm waves, and disappear eventually entirely from sight.

  The bounty of the ship, including the Holy Book, we carried in our hold, and have now been transferred to our island stores. What profit it will turn us, in days in years to come, who can say. As for myself, I have little time for reading and other civilized pursuits in this day, as I have other tasks to occupy my time.

  Chapter 5

  A pretty trick, Sister Jane, spoke the brother, savoring the last of his glass, turning on the brigands using their own tactics.

  They deserved no better, I suppose, answered the sister, and we could do no worse. I wonder, though, at your tale. From whence do you suppose the children were brought to their island sanctuary? Another ship, perhaps, or from some surpassingly unknown land?

  To that, the brother replied, I have scarcely an answer. It will remain, I would suppose, yet another of the questions which shall remain unanswered, like the floating island and the web-handed dwellers beneath the waves. The seas are deep, as you well know, and hold mysteries many and strange.

  The sister nodded her agreement, and then refilled their glasses, emptying the carafe of its dark wine.

  A final toast, then, she recommended, ere the night is done. To the mysteries of the ancient sea. She then lifted her glass on high, its crystal catching the light from the brassier and sending it in rainbow shards against the far wall.

  And to the pursuit of justice, seconded the brother, raising his glass in kind.

  The two brought the glasses one final time to their lips, and drained them each dry. Then the brother stood, and straightened himself.

  To bed, then, I fear, dear sister.

  Yes, she replied, standing herself. We've much to do in the coming days, and scant time until we must take to the waves again.

  We must not wait so long a time again before reuniting, the brother instructed. I grow lonesome for familial company.

  As do I, my brother.

  The two embraced, and then made for the hallway, where each retired to their personal chambers. Come the morning they attended to the business of readying their ships for another voyage, and within a fortnight each had again put to sea.

  The Black Hand, in his diverse guise, spread its fingers of justice over the waves once more, and held injustice in its grip. Two years would pass until the siblings again would reunite, and then for the last time. For the present, though, each sailed with a lightened heart, knowing they were not alone in the world, even when faced with mysteries the depths of which no man might ever hope to fathom.

  FIFTH DAY

  I managed to sleep almost to noon the next day, awoken only by the untimely entrance of the housekeeper, the sound of her jangling keys working its way unsettlingly into my dreams. She backed out, apologizing in broken English, but by then it was too late. Catching a glance at the bedside clock and seeing the time, I immediately panicked, realizing only after jumping to my feet that I had nowhere to be for a good seven hours.

  I ordered up some room service, sticking to the old standards of pork products, breads and fruit. When it arrived, the fruit well past all concerns, the bread an insult to bakers everywhere, and the bacon and sausage menacingly discolored, I settled for a cup of coffee and flipped on the television. I'd learned years before that daytime TV was no place to spend any amount of time, and the disquieting children's programs and too-outrageous-to-be-true talk shows only served to deepen that conviction.

  Giving up, I helped myself to another shower, made myself as presentable as possible and, packing up my gear, headed downstairs to check out.

  On the way out the doorman solicitously offered to have my car brought around front, obviously hoping for one last easy tip. What cash was left was going to be needed that night if things played as expected, so I politely declined. He dropped the act and stopped just short of kicking me off the curb.

  I had about a two-hour drive ahead of me, south across the border into Arizona, and had originally planned to spend the afternoon nosing around Marconi's haunts, seeing what I could find out. Amador's little performance the night before had gotten more of a reaction out of me than he expected, though, and I was a little gun-shy about making too many waves in the pool. It wasn't that I was particularly worried; I just didn't necessarily want to go looking for trouble. Best to let it find me at its own pace.

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p; I decided I'd probably overstayed my welcome in Vegas, figuring that if I were to stick around any number of people might come out of the woodwork and stumble across me, not least of which would be Marconi's landlord itching for his fat check. That in mind, I gassed up the car, stocked up on cigarettes and snacks, and headed out of town to the south.

  * * *

  I'd begun to feel like my whole life was spent in cars, driving to and from hotels. I was having trouble remembering the last time I'd stayed in the same place three days running, or slept in my own bed for more than a couple of nights in a row. The life of the carefree reporter, so attractive just a few years before, was beginning to wear a little thin.

  I had always laughed at people like my grandfather, tethered down and fenced in, like voluntary prisoners, rarely stirring even past their own front door. I knew that the old man had spent some time traveling when he was younger – the knickknacks and mementos that were crammed in the house to the rafters were proof enough of that – but from earliest memories he was just like another piece of furniture. I could remember seeing him out of the house only a handful of times, usually uncomfortable and suspicious. Now, a little more charitably, I could look back and see that in a sense the world had changed around him, and he seemed so ill at ease out in it because it was no longer the world he knew.