The Sam Reilly Collection

by Christopher Cartwright

  “Did those reinforcements ever come?”

  “No, he was executed for crimes against the emperor. Before his death, he left one of my great ancestors with this detailed map of where it lay stranded, along with his journal from the original voyage. Of course, by this stage the Yongle Emperor had passed. His successor, the Hongxi Emperor, had ordered the suspension of Zheng He's maritime expeditions and destruction of the remaining giant Treasure Ships, due to their rising cost and the need to divert soldiers to fight off the constant attacks from the north. With the giant ships no longer making expeditions, it was impossible for anyone to return to this far away land to find the weapon of mythical powers.”

  “But someone kept the map.”

  “My ancestors knew the value of the map and left it for each generation in the hope that one day, someone would retrieve the weapon.”

  “What happened when you sold Rodriguez the map?”

  “I returned home from work one day to find my wife and three children all dead in their beds, and a message – ‘Followed your map, no sign of the Mahogany Ship or the weapon. I suggest you take better care when providing information in the future.’”

  Sam didn’t know what to say to comfort the man. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  Sam listened to the man’s demands, a smile creeping across his face. “Yes, Mr. Jie Qiang, we have a deal.”

  With that, Mr. Jie Qiang handed over the copy of the map and a journal of one of the most wretched slaves to have ever sailed aboard the Mahogany Ship.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sam Reilly read and then re-read the poor man’s journal more than a dozen times on the long flight back to Australia.

  Next to the old Chinese text were a number of pages, typed on A4 paper and stapled together. They were the best translation Jie Qiang could produce.

  He flicked through the pages until he reached the earliest entry that seemed to connect to the story in which he was most interested…

  *

  Mid Atlantic Ocean – March 5, 1442

  My name is Rat Catcher, and on this day I stood watch at the top of the giant crow’s nest, scanning the horizon for any glimpse of land. At little over four feet, I am by far the smallest man aboard, but my near perfect eyesight has earned me the position on top of the tallest of our ship’s eight masts.

  Rat Catcher is not my real name, of course.

  I have no idea what name my father once gave me. Nor do I know what name my grandfather once gave my own father. The place in which the battle took place, and the cause for which they had fought, were both just as unfamiliar to me. I do not even know what my age was when all of this took place.

  What I do know is that my father lost, and as a consequence, I was captured. Too young to be discarded in death, I was castrated, as the custom would deem sensible, so that I may never seed their enemies, and then sold into slavery.

  Unable to recall how far I traveled since that day, I can only imagine that it must be some great distance, as my personal features appear so completely different than those who surrounded me in this new life.

  I am short and despite an extraordinary appetite, remain skinny, although what weight I have is derived from wiry lean muscle. My eyes are a weak blue color and my skin vulnerably fair compared with those around me, so that it burns every day when I work on the deck.

  I’ve been traded a number of times as my other masters feared that their possession was inherently weak and would shortly die.

  By the time I reached a puberty that would never fully come, I was purchased by my current master, who I’ve since been told only did so because he thought that I could be trained to fetch rats from the tiny spaces within the hold of his ship.

  My master immediately named me Rat Catcher.

  More than twenty years has passed since that day, and I now know that my master has grown fond of me, and often calls me by it with some affection. I’ve sailed with my master across nearly all the seas and visited many lands, although in that time I’ve never seen people who look quite like myself.

  As the years progressed, my master discovered that while I was small and physically weak, I was mentally stronger than any he’d ever met. Being small had given me the opportunity of necessity to be quick of hand and to devise some of the most unique solutions. Together, I’ve helped my master claim many lands for his own master.

  All men have masters – those who believe they don’t are lying only to themselves.

  By comparison to myself, my master was a giant. Almost seven feet tall I have heard, and he’s won many battles and become a master over the sea. Despite all the lands that he had either befriended or conquered, my master’s homeland was under a great siege from a foe who had been fighting them since anyone could remember.

  There was some fear that if any more warriors left the homeland, then it might fall victim to the invaders.

  In fear of losing the sea that he had come to love dearly, my master chose to take his three greatest ships across the largest of the known oceans in the hope that he might discover a power strong enough to beat his enemies completely.

  An old seaman’s tale spoke of a people who lived on the other side of the vast ocean who held a weapon so powerful that it could strike an entire army down in one blow. Although, how my master heard of such a story was beyond me, given that no one in living memory had ever crossed the ocean and having done so, returned again.

  It was for this purpose that my master led just three ships across the ocean, further from my master’s homeland than any of his people had ever traveled. They carried gifts to bring friendship to any civilizations he should meet. And many soldiers to enforce it with powerful weapons.

  After nearly three months at sea we landed at the inlet of a strange new land.

  Sam skimmed the next few entries, which broadly related to replenishing their food supplies, water, and maintenance of the three ships, until he found what he was after.

  New Land, West of the Atlantic. May 31, 1442

  After nearly a week of sailing north along the foreign shores, I stood on top of the crow’s nest and stared at the monstrosity in the distance. It was a pyramid made of solid rock construction, and looked like a fortress that had proven its ability to defend itself for thousands of years.

  It was so tall that, despite its base being at the level of the bay, the highest point was even higher than myself, who was perched at the very top of the two-hundred-foot mast.

  At the pyramid’s crest, I could see a number of men surrounding something that stood at their center and reflected golden rays of sunlight, so powerful that the entire point appeared to glow with gold.

  I gave my report to a messenger half way down the mast, who then relayed it on to my master waiting at the bottom for the first report.

  My master appeared confident and in his normally commanding presence, despite the pyramid being just as terrifying as he’d described it.

  His calmness changed to urgency when he noted the message regarding the golden cylindrical device.

  “Hard to starboard! All ships, hard to starboard.”

  Even at the top of the mast I heard my master bellow the order.

  The signal flag was raised and all three ships turned in unison.

  Half way through their turn, it happened.

  Still aloft in the crow’s nest I had the clearest view of the battle.

  A flash of lightning struck the ship ahead of me as though the Gods had struck it down. The heat was so powerful that it blew a hole in the front section of the ship the size of a house.

  The ship’s commander immediately ordered the catapults, which had already been armed prior to rounding the peninsula, to fire. He even managed to get more than twenty off before he realized what was happening.

  The hole in the front of his ship was so large that he was swamped within minutes. Before our ship even managed to complete the turn, the other was on its way to the sea beneath. The next shot struck the ship to his rear and thi
s time its commander did not attempt to return fire but instead focused entirely on keeping his ship afloat. It was a futile attempt and within forty seconds the second ship was on its way to the bottom.

  Below, I saw that my master had taken as much of an evasive position as could be expected under attack from such superior weaponry.

  He rounded the second sinking ship.

  I could do nothing but watch as my master made the painful decision to keep going and let the crew of the second ship drown. By the time the second ship was destroyed, the enemies had taken their Godforsaken weapon and aimed it at my master’s ship.

  It struck no more than a few feet behind our stern.

  The water, more than twenty feet of it, turned to steam, but our ship carried on. As we rounded the peninsula again, a second bolt of energy was released.

  This time it made contact with the most aft of the masts.

  It was disintegrated instantly, the charred remains of its scout falling onto the deck below – and then we were round the peninsula and safe from its violent rays.

  I quickly climbed down the mast in time to hear my master give the command to take the ship due east, away from the violent reach of such a catastrophic weapon.

  I have watched my master after many battles over the years, but this one seemed different. There had never been one like this, in which more than two thousand men were lost before the battle even started.

  But his ship, thankfully, had survived.

  “Rat Catcher – this has been a good day!” my master said.

  “Yes, it has, Master,” I dutifully agreed, although I had no idea what my master was talking about, after watching two thirds of his fleet die within the space of twenty minutes before any of the ships were even within range to return a single attack.

  “Do you know what makes today so very special?” my master asked.

  “No, master. I do not.”

  “That weapon we saw is more powerful than any possessed by all of our enemies and friends alike. Of the entire realm wherein we live, I doubt we would find another like it were we to sail for the rest of our lives and well into the next.”

  “Nor have I, Master,” I agreed.

  “And that’s why, Rat Catcher – we are going to steal it.”

  Pyramid Fortress June 10, 1442

  It had taken hours for my master to explain how we were going to capture such a powerful weapon, but by the time he had finished I knew exactly what must be done. Regardless of the risk, I would happily take the chance with my own life – because my master had asked.

  I followed my master and four other men around the ancient path that cut across the peninsula. The jagged path was cut deep into the rocky mountain. My master moved fast along the dangerous ledge.

  To the left, where the mountain could be seen high above, a small pocket of dense vegetation appeared unnatural as it struggled to maintain its grip on the rock.

  My master smiled as he looked upon it and said, “Ah, here it is.”

  “Here what is, Master?” I replied.

  “What I’ve been looking for.”

  My master grinned, mischievously, as though he were playing a game, reached behind the tree, and pulled hard on something. The sound of wheels and pulleys turning could be heard from somewhere inside the mountain, but nothing else happened.

  I looked at my master, but said nothing.

  No one else in our party was willing to question my master, either.

  Then the boulder twenty feet ahead of us slid to the side.

  “Welcome gentlemen, to my father’s land.”

  No one spoke, but the revelation of our master’s heritage was palpable.

  Each man, slowly crouched down and entered the tunnel. It was cramped, and with the exception of myself, they had to remain stooped to stay inside.

  The cavern was dark, making it difficult to see where the opening went.

  I looked around. There was nothing to suggest that the cavern had been purposely built, or that it had once been someone’s home. There was no evidence of any previous human interaction or other animal, for that matter.

  Behind me, I heard the enormous boulder start to move again – closing the gap to the outside world.

  One of my master’s men tried to move quickly to stop it.

  “No, let it close,” my master ordered.

  “But we’ll be trapped!”

  My master ignored the man’s protest, simply holding him firm with his giant left arm. The boulder finished moving, completely blocking our view of the outside world and leaving us all in total darkness.

  No one spoke.

  I alone, amongst them, felt entirely comfortable with my master’s decision. With religious doctrine, I was confident that my master had a grand purpose in life.

  As though I was being rewarded for my faith, I heard the sound of more ropes and pulleys moving. A moment later, a secret door at the back of the cavern opened, and a light-filled room came into view, which was large enough that even my master was able to stand comfortably.

  “Follow me, gentlemen,” my master ordered as he led the way, only having to crouch to get through the small door before being able to stand tall.

  The room opened up and became filled with natural light.

  “This is called the king’s travel vault. There are several built into this track, so that the king can take refuge when required. In doing so, the king can travel light, with only a few royal guardsmen to accompany him.”

  “And how did you know about the king’s vault?” I asked.

  “Because he’s my father.”

  “And what are we doing here, Master?” One of my master’s other men spoke up.

  “Betraying him.”

  *

  We waited for the soldiers to come. From above, we had an uninterrupted view of the path below. It was an easy ambush and we slaughtered all eight men by throwing large rocks down upon them, before they had a chance to warn another watch tower.

  We stole their armor and quickly donned it.

  It was basic, but identified us as part of the civilization.

  Only my master stood out amongst us, because he wore a solid gold pendant around his neck with a jade picture of one of the thirteen creator gods at the center, making him look regal.

  Within two days we reached the eastern side of the Great Tower.

  The place looked even more enormous and sinister from our low vantage point as we saw it.

  There, we waited until night came.

  My master arranged for our ship to be rowed towards the harbor in front of the pyramid fortress as soon as the sun left the horizon and the weapon was rendered useless. They were to come in close and carry plenty of lighting to maintain the façade.

  We waited until the second watch of the night, and then went forward towards the Great Tower to steal the most valuable weapon the civilization had harbored for more than a thousand years.

  Where luck now played its part.

  *

  As I watched from a distance, my master walked with the confidence of a man who knew that royal blood flowed in his veins as he approached the pyramid.

  A royal guard noticed him.

  “Master, I thought you’d commenced the attack?” The guard looked nervous, as though he was expecting something to be wrong.

  “Soon – but we have a new plan. My father has decreed that I should move the weapon to the edge of the mountain, so we can strike our enemy down when they are on the retreat and believe that they are safe having rounded the crest of the mountain.”

  “A clever plan, master,” the guard replied, obsequiously – obviously keen to avoid confrontation.

  Together, my master’s men carried the weapon down the stairs and along the ancient stone path that led to the edge of the inlet.

  With every sound, my ear pricked with fear as though each one might indicate that the ruse had failed, and that my master’s family were going to kill him.

  But the sound never came.
/>   By the end of the second watch we reached the rowboat, secretly left at the shore by his crew.

  Carefully loading the heavy weapon in the center of the boat, we all knew that any accident resulting in the weapon being lost overboard would mean that it could never be retrieved again.

  By the fifth stroke of the oars, I thought we had made it.

  “Well Rat Catcher, there’s a tale to tell your grandchildren – if you were still capable of having them.” My master laughed as he said it.

  I started to reply, but he didn’t hear what I said.

  In the distance, his ship was on fire.

  *

  We rowed faster to our ship only to discover that my master’s twin brother had attacked the ship. Our crew were strengthened by the return of their master and were able to fight off the assailants, but not before all but one of the masts were destroyed.

  Every man on board then fought hard to save the ship from burning. By the morning, we were far from land, and the fire was doused.

  The narrow escape was almost mythical.

  My master ordered the men to continue rowing past the next two harbors, with the intention of going ashore at the third to make repairs.

  After three days, we reached the third harbor, but as we rowed in towards it our waiting enemy threw thousands of stones at us from the high mountainside. Few reached us, but those that did destroyed everything in their path.

  If we had been under sail, we could have never turned around in time.

  As it was, the rowers were already at their oars and were able to immediately change the direction of the strokes.

  For nearly a week, each time the ship came close to the shore it was attacked. My master became increasingly worried that his enemy had a much better means of communicating from each outpost than he had predicted and would soon attack him with their own warships.

  It was a risk that my master was not willing to take.

  On the fifth day, he ordered his senior commanders to the deck and said, “It is my intention to return to our homeland with the weapon. We have one mast intact and will be able to keep rowing as we cross. Our supplies are less than I would like, but I fear that any attempt to go ashore to replenish them will put us at far too much risk of losing the weapon. Once we are out to sea, their ships will never find us again.”