Treasure Lost

by R. G. Cordiner

  ...

  ZZZZZZ! ZZZZZ!

  A large mosquito buzzed overhead. It swooped closer.

  PLT!

  “Got it,” cried Malhair. “That’s twelve I’ve killed now.”

  Peter pushed the overhanging branch out of the way and they continued their slow progress through the forest.

  “Wait,” he suddenly stopped. “Do you hear that?”

  Malhair paused.

  “What, the three million hungry mosquitoes lining up for lunch?”

  “No,” Peter replied, “I think I hear water!”

  The boys hastened their way towards the trickling sound and it wasn’t long before they came across a small stream. Laughing, they filled the water container and took hefty swigs. After quenching their thirst, they refilled for their colleagues and went about searching for food.

  However, they were not the only ones on a quest to fill their stomachs. An enormous reticulated python slowly uncurled its giant bulk high up in the trees and began winding its way down the trunk.

  The mottled brown colour of its scales blended perfectly with the tree. It slithered amongst the undergrowth, its tongue flicking out and ‘sniffing’ the air. It had detected food nearby and it was hungry … very hungry.

  “Hey, look up there Peter,” Malhair pointed at a nearby tree.

  “What is it?”

  “That looks like coconuts doesn’t it?” Malhair’s voice trembled with excitement. They ran over towards the tree and searched around the base. Sure enough, they soon found a coconut lying on the ground. Peter started bashing it on a rock.

  PHMP!

  PHMP!

  The python felt the vibrations through the forest floor and quickened its pace.

  PHMP!

  PHMP!

  The snake could sense the body heat of a large meal nearby. It came up slowly behind its victim, slithering silently through the undergrowth. It could sense that there were two creatures near the tree. It paused. The muscles rippled along its body as it raised itself up.

  It quickly wrapped itself around the victim’s legs.

  SHHMP!

  AAAAGGGHH!

  The snake sunk its teeth into the creature’s thigh, shredding the flesh. Malhair screamed again in agony. Peter tried to whack the python with his fists, but to no avail. With a twist of its enormous body, it quickly coiled itself around the hapless Malhair and then began to drag him into the forest.

  “PETER!” he screamed.

  Peter ran. His legs burned. Malhair had stopped screaming. Peter kept running.

  PLLP!!

  All of a sudden he sank to his waist in the sand. It sucked him down.

  “HELP!” he screamed.

  He tried to scramble to the edge. The sand only tugged him down faster.

  Now it was at his neck.

  “HELP!”

  He had sunk to his chin. As he struggled, the sand consumed him faster.

  “HE..”

  The sand flooded into his mouth. He began to choke.

  It covered his nose.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  Then his head was under.

  Only his outstretched hand was above the sand.

  He could feel his lungs bursting.

  Consciousness slipping …

  Blackness.

  Chapter 6

  Is this a Rescue?

  Farren ignored the burning fire in his legs and ran as fast as he could hobble. Aeolus sprinted ahead of him and suddenly leapt through the air. A hand grasped Peter’s. It tugged at him. Farren held Aeolus’ legs and pulled as hard as he could, willing his brother to be alright.

  SHHLLLPP

  Slowly, ever so slowly, the sand reluctantly began to release its prey. Every limb ached as the boys pulled with all their might.

  SHHLLPPP

  Peter’s lifeless body was gradually wrested from the unforgiving quicksand. Aeolus wacked him on the back. Farren watched as sand poured out of his brother’s mouth.

  “BRRUGHH”

  Peter vomited.

  “HHHHHHUUU!”

  He gasped.

  Farren held his brother in his arms and wiped the slimy sand off his face. Peter looked up at him.

  “I thought I was dead.”

  “So did I. Don’t do that to me!” Farren frowned.

  “Thanks … again. How did you …?”

  “We got back to the boulder and were waiting for you two and then we heard Malhair shouting so we started to run and then you started screaming. What happened? Where’s Malhair?”

  “Oh,” said Peter, “It was awful. We found water,” he pointed to the flask, “and even coconuts. But just as we were breaking one open, a giant snake came, bit Malhair and then dragged him away! It was terrifying. I tried to stop it but nothing would work. I chased it and then fell into this quicksand. Oh poor Malhair!” Tears streamed down Peter’s face as he relived the traumatic experience. He got to his feet.

  “We’ve got to keep looking for him,” he turned and implored the others.

  He started to walk through the jungle but stopped after a short distance, realising that Farren and Aeolus were not following him.

  “We can’t just leave him! He could still be alive!”

  Farren and Aeolus looked at each other. Farren spoke first, “Peter, I don’t think there’s anything we can do for him. Let him go.”

  “What? He’s one of us. You mean he’s survived a pirate attack, a knife in his chest, hours at sea … he’s come this far and we just say, well sorry mate, you’re a goner?” Peter clenched his fists as his voice began to tremble.

  “Look, let’s say we wanted to find him. Where do we start? The snake will be pretty well hidden and Malhair is at least unconscious, if not dead already by now. Not to mention that the three of us aren’t really in a fit state to fight a snake, let alone chase one.” Farren replied.

  Peter folded his hands across his chest. “So you both come to my rescue but not to Malhair’s?”

  “It’s not like that. To start with you were alive and screaming, so we knew where to find you and also Malhair was already severely wounded.”

  “Well what if it was me who was taken by the snake?” cried Peter.

  Farren looked at his feet and then back up at his brother, “If it was you then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  “Because I would already be out there cutting down everything in my path to find you.” Farren turned and started heading back towards the beach. Aeolus followed. Peter stood for a while watching his brother’s retreating back then, with a final glance into the forest, he too headed to shore.

  ...

  After Peter had informed them of the water and coconuts and, of course, the snake, they decided to take the two daggers with them as protection. They all went back with the two empty flasks and after drinking their fill from the stream, filled the containers. Whilst two stayed watch, Peter collected what coconuts he could find. On their return back to shore they began to collect firewood in the hope that somehow they could light it.

  After a frustrating hour and a half using all manner of different stones, twigs and swear words, the fire was finally lit. Aeolus smashed the coconuts with a rock and passed them around. When each of the three survivors had one, he raised his in the air. The fire’s reflection flickered in his black eyes as he cleared his throat.

  “To our fallen comrades!”

  “To our fallen comrades!” Peter and Farren echoed and they all drank the milk.

  There was little hilarity around the camp fire that evening. Exhausted, Farren and Aeolus were soon snoring, but Peter tossed and turned. Giant snakes kept attacking him and he could hear Malhair keep asking, “Why did you leave me Peter, why?”

  ...

  The next morning Farren slowly awoke to a strange smell that wafted across his nose. It tugged at his stomach and he quickly sat up.

  “Thought that would wake you,” laughed Peter.

&nbs
p; “What is that delicious smell?” he asked.

  “Unlike SOME people who slept in, Aeolus and I got up early and managed to catch some crabs for breakfast and it looks like they’re just about cooked.” Peter grinned holding up a bright red crab, skewered on a stick.

  The crunching sounds of rock against crab shell filled the air.

  “Right, so what now?” Farren asked, crab juice dribbling down his chin.

  “We need to get off this island, obviously,” replied Aeolus. “If we keep collecting water, coconuts and crabs we can survive for a while.”

  “We haven’t fully explored the island though,” suggested Peter

  “Yeh, but with that snake still on the loose I don’t know whether that’s such a good idea. I think we should move camp though, those bodies are starting to really stink.” Farren clenched his nose.

  “I think it’s time we faced up to the fact that, as much as it horrifies us all, we are going to have to bury them. We owe it to them. It’s the right thing to do,” Peter insisted.

  So the boys reluctantly used sticks, daggers and their bare hands at times, to put their comrades to rest.

  As the sun slowly faded out into the sea, the three young men stood around the graves drenched in sweat. They bowed their heads as Peter spoke.

  “Lord, look after these unlucky souls. But for your grace we too would have joined them on the eternal voyage. Amen.”

  Farren was becoming more practiced at lighting the fire. He had finally found two stones that, when hit together with sufficient force, produced a spark.

  As it was twilight and they had spent the day digging, the boys had yet to find food. Having previously seen splashing in the water, and being too tired to trudge back into the forest to find coconuts, they decided to try spear fishing.

  They each picked up a branch that they had previously sharpened with the daggers and waded out into the ocean until it encircled their waists.

  There they stood.

  And waited.

  And then they saw it.

  It started as a mere light in the distance.

  But it came closer.

  As it did, the boys realised what it was.

  A ship.

  They yelled. They screamed. They threw everything they could on the fire to make it all the brighter.

  And the ship kept coming closer.

  Until finally they could see it properly.

  It was a British Naval Man-of-War. And to the boys it was beautiful.

  It had three masts and sixteen sails. The fore (or bow) was dominated by a large figure of the top half of a woman that was moulded to the ship. Above the waterline, forty two gun ports, arranged in three rows, sat disguising their deadly contents. The three decks (forecastle, quarter deck and poop deck) were a hive of activity and noise. Farren, Peter and Aeolus could see two small rowing boats being lowered over the sides.

  Excitedly, the three began to gather their meagre possessions. They were going to be rescued at last! Their horrifying journey was finally at an end.

  They rushed out waist deep into the ocean, unable to prevent the smiles from spreading across their faces.

  The two rowboats were so close now that they could make out the sailor’s faces and could hear the shouts of the officers.

  The boats were dragged onto the shore and the crew disembarked.

  “Evening lads, would you like to come with us?” asked the burly, moustached officer.

  “Would we? You don’t know how long we’ve been waiting to be rescued. We’re just so grateful …” Aeolus babbled but was cut short by the other officer who held up his hand.

  “Save it. Just hop on board,” he said.

  Slightly puzzled, the three companions clambered aboard the nearest boat and sat together as they were rowed towards the large battle ship.

  As they came closer, they could see other lights in the distance and realised that this was just one of a fleet of ships. The giant man-of-war loomed over them. Aeolus noticed a large basket hanging over the side with a man inside. The torches on deck flickered in the breeze and barely cast enough light to make out his skeletal frame. His sunken eyes gazed lifelessly out to sea.

  “What happened to him?” Aeolus asked, pointing at the rotting corpse.

  The Lieutenant stared down his nose at Aeolus as if regarding a diseased rodent. He pondered and then, deciding that it would do no harm to answer, he said, “He failed to stay awake when on watch, so we put him in the basket. He was given a mug of ale, a loaf of bread and a knife. So he had to either cut himself loose and be lost at sea, starve to death or kill himself.” He paused. “It took Paul two weeks to die …”

  The choppy surf around the waterline of the man of war made it difficult to bring the row boats alongside. But the experience of the sailors showed through and two of them reached out to grab the thick ropes dangling from the ship. They carefully attached them to the small boat and with a yell of “Heave ho!” the little vessel gradually was pulled up from the sucking maw of the sea.

  Like Peter, Farren had never been this close to a navy vessel before and he sat in the rowing boat, excitedly observing the weather beaten wood, the muskets and swords held by the crew, the rows of cannon ports and the serious faces of the sailors as they were pulled higher into the air.

  Peter however, was not finding the same enjoyment as his brother. There was something he felt that was not quite right here. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but the weapons, the number of crew sent to get them and their less than enthusiastic welcoming was making him feel uneasy.

  Aeolus watched the situation warily, like a caged tiger. Having heard the brothers talk of a map, his curiosity was piqued. This could present an opportunity for him to get a look at it for himself and from there, who knows?

  Chapter 7

  Time to Haul

  Admiral Douglas Fairclough was irritated. He stood on the poop deck and looked out at the fleet. With only four ships, it was proving difficult to catch any of the pirates in these waters, let alone the Nemesis. “Two years chasing that wretched ship and all I have to show for it is this bloody grey hair,” he fumed. He glanced over at the three castaways who were just making their way onto the deck. All three wore what he could only describe as rags. Two of them had a similar build, tall and wiry and looked like they could be brothers. The other fellow was odd looking. He had bright red hair, which was not something the Admiral had seen before, let alone his black eyes which were disconcerting. The Admiral was surprised at how young the three looked. “Oh well,” he thought, “Just means they have a lot to learn.” He strolled across the deck to the Lieutenant who saluted him.

  “So these are the castaways are they Lieutenant?”

  “Sir.”

  “Gentlemen, it never fails to astound me that the youth of today are so lazy.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Farren.

  PAP!

  Admiral Douglas slapped Farren across the face … hard.

  “And clearly ill-mannered as well.”

  Farren fell to the ground clenching his jaw. Peter went to his brother but was restrained by the sailor behind him. Aeolus did not move.

  The Admiral moved so close to Peter’s face that he could almost feel the bristles of the man’s beard.

  “Perhaps your brother might think twice before so impertinently interrupting an Admiral of His Majesty’s British Navy.” He stared into Peter’s glaring eyes and then turned.

  “What was I saying?”

  “Ill mannered, lazy youth, sir,” snapped the Lieutenant.

  “Oh that’s right. Yes. Young people today have no concept of respect, or of working hard for a living. No sir, they don’t. They are lazy. They dream of getting rich quickly and living a life of decadence. Mmmhmm, that’s right. So instead of choosing the life of a hard working noble servant of His Majesty’s British Navy, what do they do James?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” replied the Lieutenant.

  The Admiral stopped his pac
ing in front of the three boys and rounded on the moustached officer.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know James? Everyone knows. They choose the life of piracy, of course. Oh how glamorous it must be, sailing the seas in a filthy rat-infested vessel with no sense of order or idea of where your next meal is coming from, let alone when you next will get paid. Oh, but wait, I forgot. The treasure. That’s right. That’s what makes it all worthwhile. Slaughtering and killing honest men to steal and plunder what was rightfully theirs. Mmmhmm.”

  “But, sir, we’re not pirates,” Peter tentatively ventured.

  POOMP!!

  Admiral Douglas’ fist, which had been wildly waving in the air to emphasise his point, went straight into Peter’s stomach. He collapsed to the deck, struggling for breath.

  “What do you take me for boy, an idiot? Huh?”

  Peter struggled to form words but was so winded he just grunted.

  “These waters either contain the British navy, the Spanish,” he spat on the deck, “or pirates. Now you’re clearly not fit specimens to grace His Majesty’s Navy and neither do you speak with a Spanish accent. Everyone knows that merchants don’t sail this far south, so you weren’t shipwrecked. This leads me to believe that you are pirates. What’s more, you were found on a deserted island, and every fool knows that pirates frequently are punished by being cast off on some god-forsaken island. Now, I grow weary of wasting my time with you. James?”

  “Sir,” replied the Lieutenant.

  “Keelhaul them. But don’t kill them. I need to ask them some questions after they have been softened up.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As Admiral Douglas walked off, the Lieutenant turned to the sailors behind the boys and shouted, “Well you heard the Admiral. Tie them up and keel haul them!”

  “Sir,” the sailors replied.

  There was a long piece of thick rope that was attached to a form of pulley on the lowest mast, or yardarm. One of the sailors grabbed an end of the rope and walked to the fore of the ship and swung it around the front of the matronly figurehead to his compatriot, who caught it and, in this way, they dragged one end under the boat. The other was used to tie Peter’s hands behind his back. The rope then travelled from his hands, through the pulley, under the boat and back to his ankles, which a sailor was currently tying together. Peter looked with wild eyes at the sailor as he tightened the knot.