The Ophir

by Irene Patino

  For more than 200 years the nine man teams of The Poor Knights of Christ were based in the areas of France, Provence and Languedoc-Roussillon. They defended and protected the Holy Land and its possessions. They controlled immeasurable wealth, and yet held true to their vow of poverty. The numerological designation of the teams was not an accident; it stood for omega, the end.

  * * * *

  The Knights Templar, renowned for their skills as architects and engineers, built castles using sacred geometry. They learned, from the mystical documents in their hands, how to erect defensive sites that held water gates on coasts and rivers like those found at Oak Island in Nova Scotia.

  They designed and built a great fleet of galleons, which they leased to trusted nobles on the premise they would be pressed into service by the Templars should they be needed. The lead galleon would run point much like a gaggle of geese flying south for the winter. The triangle formation was part of their training as spiritual guards, as well as logistical defense. No matter which way the opponent moved, the Templars could maneuver their ships to counter the move of opposing ships. They played the game of chess at sea with cunning and extreme supremacy.

  The Poor Knights also devised communication codes used with the aid of a lantern to relay route changes and other bits of information while at sea. But all their skill, all their ferocity, all their wealth, would be put aside and other forms of communication would be used when they crossed paths with the pirate ship Ophir.

  Chapter Eleven

  Captain Antonio heard the whisperings of change through the mind of his men.

  “Change, change, Mon Ami, has become our enemy. The Ophir can no longer overtake even lesser ships than this. Weaponry gives way to greater guns. Special instruments are used for sailing the proper route.”

  “True, mate. Not even the stars are needed to point the way. A ship’s crew is no longer a true crew of sailors. They’ve been taken back to slavery. No need to know. Just do as told.”

  “Did you hear about the iron ships?”

  “Iron ships? HA! Not only did I hear ‘bout them, I hear they be tinkerin’ with one that goes under water. Can you imagine that? Underwater ships.”

  “Makes you wonder what they’ll think of next.”

  “Aye. Today under water, tomorrow what? The sky?” Both men snickered at the thought.

  “No. No. The moon! HA! HA!” The sailors doubled in laughter at the visions in their heads.

  Captain Antonio and his crew enjoyed centuries of freedom. They wanted for nothing. Once, he believed he’d made the better bargain when faced with extinction or immortality. He questioned the decision made so long ago.

  “Contona, did we make a mistake? We’ve plied the oceans for eons. We seem to be at the center of a kaleidoscope with the bits and pieces of life going through changes with increased speed.”

  “At the time, Cap’n, we were faced with a decision that had to be made in that instant. Nay, Cap’n. You made the right decision. No one would argue that. But, ye be right. Things are different. It’s not so much that things have changed but more that we haven’t.”

  Time was moving at such a pace that we could no longer stay in stride. I now understood that the bargain made so long ago was no more than a curse of equal magnitude to that of Kadar Nazim. And now Captain Antonio had another decision to make, but could not make it alone, nor could I be a part of the process.

  Captain Antonio was not a Master. Not in the sense that Joseph Ben Abin had been. He was a pirate, a pirate with goals that no longer brought the exhilaration that life on the seas once afforded. He, his men and I, would forever be on the edge of civilization, never part of it. We never became part of the changes. We learned of them through others that also ‘became’ and stagnated with the rest of us, or those whose lives ended with the first confrontation. Bits and pieces.

  “Do you ever miss the world, Contona?”

  “Aye, Cap’n. I long for the politeness of society, the company of a woman, the laughter of children playing, the feel of solid ground beneath my feet and the freedom to explore the entire world, not just the oceans.”

  “As do I, my friend.” The two men shared a past and a pipe in the full moon light as they reminisced about the days of youth.

  “We’ve sailed to the far reaches of the seas several times over. We’ve explored cities lost far beneath the oceans now travelled by intrepid men of the world. There was a time when that was our domain, but they’ve found that part of our world too.”

  Our quarters were close, and I could hear the conversation between the Captain and his First Mate. They accumulated wealth beyond their wildest dreams, but it meant nothing. It was his desire for a life that no longer was within reach, and the knowledge that they were trapped in this one, that made the Captain decide to face his men and offer an alternative to the limited life we now led.

  “Have you noticed the changes in the crew?”

  “Aye. The numbers change from time to time, and it isn’t all due to battle. If you think ‘bout it, we’ve had precious few battles in the last few decades. We’ve been livin’ off sunken booty for the most part.”

  “Not much of a life for a pirate, aye?”

  “Pirate? Nay, Cap’n. I’d say it be more like scabbin’.”

  Captain Antonio and his First Mate continued talking into the night. They covered their thoughts, cloaking them in a high-pitched hum to anyone that tried to eavesdrop. It was painful to the ears, so I stopped. I entertained my own thoughts of lost dreams. My thoughts turned to those things that men covet; money, women, wine and song.

  Needless to say, my thoughts ended without completion. The call for ‘all hands on deck’ came before I was able to reach a state of utter depression. It was moments such as these that reminded me that I had never had a life of my own. Not a real one where I could be the master of my own fate. I too longed for change, or at the very least, freedom from my present state.

  “Contona, call the men. We have to turn the tide for ourselves, I think.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “Have you given thought to what you’ll do?”

  “I stand by you, sir.”

  “Thank you, Contona. You’ve been a good Mate. It will be my honor and comfort to have you by my side.” The men shook hands to acknowledge their decision and commemorate their friendship.

  The crew of the Ophir gathered on deck. The crews of the entire armada stood to listen to the Captain’s words. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder and waited for Captain Antonio to step out onto the deck and address them. He took care to disguise his thoughts from those that learned the power of probing another’s mind. He knew that those with him the longest felt the same as he did. They were loyal and would never go against their Captain.

  Captain Antonio was prepared either way to do what he must. He had to take precautions because even in the world of vampires there were young ones that, in the past, challenged the Captain. Those that stepped over the line were beheaded. It was a short, precise, permanent death. Regeneration, as in other cases, was not possible.

  I had no choice but to wait and ‘hear’ what the Captain’s decision would be. My condition was a sham. I had no just cause to continue my life as a puppet.

  The Captain gave his crew the alternatives available, and let them choose the path they wanted for themselves. As always, he would listen to all that were reasonable.

  “Long before some of you joined us, we were given a choice. We could become victims of the lamia, or we could become lamia. We chose to become. We were given certain abilities and restricted in others.

  We’ve shared the gifts our makers gave us and learned to respect our limitations. But, time has moved ahead, and it’s left us in its wake. Our time has ended as it once was.

  The future was not foretold. We were seduced into a bad bargain. I take full blame. We believed that immortality, regardless of the mortal things we might lose, was better than death. But, I tell you that this is not a life. It is an
existence. The world moves on, and we are trapped in repetitive motions going neither forward nor back.

  Wealth beyond the imagination is ours, but of what good are treasures, if they cannot be put to use? Of what good is strength if it can only be wielded on the ocean? Of what use is power when we wear it like a cloak without warmth?

  It’s time to make another decision, and I therefore place alternatives before you. Each man must choose for himself the path to follow. Do not be swayed by whatever path I choose for myself. Each man to his destiny.” Captain Antonio addressed the alternatives aloud:

  “We can separate now. Those that wish to continue their life at sea, may do so. We would split the booty, an even share for all. Ship’s berth would need to be shifted to accommodate those that wish to continue in this fashion.

  Those that wish to sleep until a better time, may do so. This plan would, by necessity, be very structured to insure the safety and undisturbed sleep of our brethren, until such a time as the world is ready for us to draw forward again.

  An alternative to sleep, would be the formation of an island that would be found by those whose destiny it is to enrich our lives with theirs. I would suggest the place known as the Ring of Fire. There are three other mystical areas in the world with the same capacity to hold you securely.

  Last, there are strange things that occur in those areas, which have created a place that goes by the name Lemuria. It is not on any known map, real places never are. On this great island live many races, but not all races there are human, as we understand it. This knowledge was passed on to me alone by the Master, known as ‘The One’. Perhaps he knew that this day would come, and a decision would have to be made equitable to all.”

  “Tell us, Captain, what of Lemuria?” whispered their minds.

  “Lemuria is a continent of the ancients. It is in the Ring of Fire. It is visible to those with eyes to see. You have heard it called by many names in the mind of man. It is known by Hiva, Bolutu, Mu, and Hawaiki.

  It is inhabited by small and giant alike. Monuments exist to its aura and influence. Mystic arts are practiced there. It is a place where time is but an illusion.

  We have many of the same gifts as the healers and ancient Egyptian Magik Workers on that land. We retain those gifts as long as they are used for the betterment of humanity. Our hearing, speed and strengths transcend that of mortal men but can be matched in Lemuria.

  Earthly gains are of no use to us. The differences we experience with this common world will be normal to that parallel existence. We would be free to explore them.

  The Prophet Mohammed once said, “Anyone growing out of the unlawful would not enter Paradise.” In Lemuria, we are not unlawful. It is in the world of man that we are called an abomination.

  In truth, I myself grow tired of this world. I will not, cannot, continue this way. I choose Lemuria. There, I can retire to a life that is of my choosing, and where controlled sustenance is supplied by an abundance of natural growth. I know not what else may await me there, but I am keen to find out.

  Decide for yourselves, as I have done. Bear in mind, whatever your decision, you must endure, evolve and adapt if you are to survive.

  In fairness, I will give you a decade in man’s time to make your decision but no longer. In that time, we will ply the seas in search of ships laden in treasure to secure a safe retirement, regardless of where that might be.”

  No one spoke. No one questioned the alternatives. They would each decide and gather with those of similar mind, and the move would be made. Captain Antonio knew that the men would be divided according to cast or progression, in most cases. ‘Becoming’ did not guarantee intellect nor did it guarantee survival. Even in this world there would be leaders, and there would be followers, but neither could survive alone. The year was 1312.

  * * * *

  Those that wished to live under the illusion of an island, switched onto three of the nine vessels once under the command of Captain Antonio. They sailed toward the Bahama’s and Devils Triangle at the southeastern tip of the North American continent. There they would create a hive, drawing a veil over the eyes of many. They drew on memories of past land excursions near beautiful uncharted islands in the Pacific and Mediterranean Oceans to build their illusion.

  The lush green islands with gentle sloping beaches surprised unsuspecting ships and casual travelers alike. The occupants of passing ships saw a shallow beach leading to a tropical, pristine island that did not exist on their maps. When they accidently ran their ships aground on the sudden appearance of what they thought was land, they were actually sliding over one or another of the ships previously lured into the vampire’s trap. The spider web of ships, yachts, schooners and boats would add to the intricate scaffolding.

  “Captain? Is there a problem? Why has the full stop order been given?”

  “Look ahead. Do my eyes deceive me? Never have I seen this place before. Check the map again. Recheck the coordinates. Log the find and put a description in the journal.”

  “Look at the gauges. They’re going crazy. There’s no way to get an accurate reading.”

  “A storm? Think a storm might do this?”

  “Seas are calm, Mister. Look about. Like glass. This ... this is extraordinary. We’ll never stop her in time. Sound the alarm; we’re on a collision course!”

  “But—”

  “Do it!”

  The General Gates, captained by John Shimmer in 1780, went missing. The General Gates was a British war ship commissioned to transport prisoners to New York. No one claimed to know the reason for her disappearance. Later, it was recorded in the official register as a sinking, “cause unknown”. It disappeared with all hands on board.

  Most victims were taken with speed. Those that survived the “landing” would for a very brief time, moments in reality, be separated through subterfuge, and shared with the other vampire ships. The victims, if allowed to live a while, became participants in the different fantasies playing in their own minds.

  While waiting to be rescued, they offered their throats to phantom lovers, or fell asleep in a nonexistent hammock, under the shade of a nonexistent palm tree where the lamia would drain them without prejudice. The pirates joined in the quite extravagant “play”, enjoying it like one might enjoy playing with a child or favorite pet. Few visitors were lucky enough to escape.

  Among the few that did escape, were the very young. In the collective memory of the vampires, there had been one instance of a child being taken. The man that founded the pirate vampires was credited with that particular atrocity. No one knew the truth of it.

  It was sworn to by all vampires from that time on, that a child would never be “made”, nor would a child ever be used for sustenance. The children would stay aboard in their own fantasies until another ship was within a distance safe enough to set the children free.

  The method for seeing to the safety of the children was often creative but never dangerous to them.

  Sometimes a silent net was cast out to a passing ship causing a hypnotic illusion. In the minds of the passing ship everything was normal, and they thought themselves to be making good speed, when in actuality they were standing still.

  Children were taken aboard and deposited near the Captain. Upon the veil being withdrawn, he would be amused, surprised and then concerned to find children with no adult supervision surrounding him. A search would be put into motion to find the parents of the abandoned children.

  “Oh, hello children. Are you taking a tour of the ship?”

  The oldest or most verbal would answer, “No, Sir. Our parents left us on the boat to play.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “Don’t know, Sir.” In an aside to the First Mate, the Captain would give orders for the parents to be found.

  The Captain’s rage would grow until all reports were in. With the negative reports in hand, he would try to reason the sudden appearance of the children. He would file a report and investigators would board the ship i
n route, but nothing more would be discovered. The Captain and crew would question their own sanity.

  “What’s going on? How could this happen?”

  “Make a schedule to interview the crew. Someone must’ve seen something. Children don’t just “appear” as if by magic. In my opinion, the parents are criminal and should be flogged.”

  When no parents could be found, one more report would be filed. The report would be filed as one of those mysteries about the Bermuda Triangle people so loved to be entertained with late at night.

  At other times, cloaked in invisibility to the more mature and those that lacked imagination, the pirates would row the children in a skiff to a nearby yacht. They would instruct the children to scream for help. Once sighted, the passengers and crew would scramble to the aid of the babes.

  “Drop the ladder, Mr. Theus. Pull her in.”

  “Aye, Capn.”

  “Use the pike to hook her in and bring the passengers to me.”

  The Memories wiped from the mind of the children made it impossible to tie ends together. By the time the crew went to secure the dingy to the yacht, it would have “drifted” too far from them to get a line on it. It would be left to float away with the lamia aboard. As soon as the ripples could no longer be seen from their dipping oars, the pirates rowed back to their private island of fantasy.

  When questioned, the children, in all innocence, would tell them the truth about the pirates that rowed them toward their ship. Believing them to be hallucinating and confused, they would be treated with kindness and then taken to the nearest port authority where more questions would be asked.

  At times, the rescuers themselves would be accused and arrested for crimes on the seas, to which they carried no blame but gave no logical explanation.

  “Come man, do you expect me to believe that these children appeared by some kind of magic? I’ll ask you once more, sir, where are the parents?”

  “Sir, I don’t know, sir.”

  “How did this infant board your ship? She can’t be more than three years old.”