Overboard!

by Michael White

  Eventually the sun set swiftly and night fell. Campfires were lit on the shore and a watch was set over the camp. Neep eventually fell asleep staring up at the stars, the moon having waned even more now. In the early hours he woke as a comet streaked brightly across the night sky, and he drifted back off to sleep, the sound of the waves lapping at the shoreline nearby sending him back to sleep easily.

  When he awoke it was light and taking time to eat some basic food from the makeshift canteen and wash himself in the sea he went in search of Daisy and Bones. His first instinct was to look for them in the area of the door and in this sense he struck lucky first time. As he approached the huge sealed entrance he saw Daisy standing off to one side, her telescope mounted on a wooden tripod, Daisy staring intently into it. Bones stood off to one side, tapping an impatient bony foot on the rocks, watching Neep approach.

  “Morning.” said Neep, Bones nodding in return as he reached them, “What are you doing?”

  “This keyhole.” Said Daisy, “It doesn’t change in depth or colour from any angle. As the sun moves around the shadows inside the keyhole the depth of them should change. They don’t.”

  “Been here since sunrise.” Groaned Bones, “Still none the wiser what she’s on about.”

  “It’s simple.” said Daisy, “Now that I have examined it closely it is in fact fairly obvious. The reason the shadows inside the keyhole don’t change as the sun moves is perfectly simple.”

  She snorted as both Neep and Bones looked on, slack jawed and clueless.

  “Pair of ne’er do wells.” She laughed, “The keyhole isn’t real. It is painted on.” Bones and Neep turned to stare up at the keyhole.

  “It’s a very good painting then.” said Neep finally. “Looks real from here.”

  “It can’t be.” said Daisy, “it’s a drawing meant to make you think that a key of some sort is required to open the door.”

  “Perhaps the whole door is a drawing.” said Bones, stroking his skull where his chin would be if he actually had a chin, “designed to confuse or lead astray.”

  “I don’t think so.” said Daisy, collapsing the tripod and beginning to stroll back to the camp, Bones and Neep joining her as she did so, “The wooden scaffolds seem to suggest otherwise, that perhaps lots of things were perhaps unpacked and transported up from the beach here. Presumably through that door.” They walked along in silence for a while, thinking hard. Upon their return to the camp Daisy put the telescope back in her tent and grabbed something to eat before the three of them set out along the beach, examining the bamboo constructs as they did so.

  This time they walked further though, each locked into trying to solve the puzzle of the door in their minds. Neep was surprised to find that the bamboo objects stretched much further than he had originally thought, the beach rounding the bay seeming to permanently stretch off into the distance. At all times however, the smoking peak of the volcano was visible to them, thick smoke and flame issuing from it at random intervals.

  They had crossed a low rock outcrop when Neep spotted a high bamboo tower off near to the cliffs. It seemed to be larger than the others, small wooden pieces of bamboo being tied to what looked like a tower to form makeshift steps. Hanging down from the top of the construct were two what looked like large hand woven baskets, each looking large enough to hold at least ten men inside. Both dangled from the tower by what looked to Neep like torn dirty strips of sailcloth, the edges of the cloth flapping loudly in the breeze that was running up from the sea.

  “Strange thing.” muttered Bones, looking at what Neep was staring at, “Let’s go and take a look.”

  They crossed over the beach and headed directly for the tower. Neep estimated it when he drew closer to be nearer to forty feet in height than thirty, and the strange wicker baskets that dangled upside down from what looked like wreckage looked even larger.

  “What in the seven are they?” whispered Daisy, and Neep rose on tiptoes to examine one of the baskets more closely.

  “There is a brass plate here on the side of the basket.” Said Neep. Daisy and Bones drew closer to look.

  “What does it say?” they asked nearly in unison.

  “Can’t read it.” Said Neep, now at full stretch. He put his foot on the first step lashed to the frame with vines and it seemed sturdy enough. The same with the next. When he reached the third step he stood on tiptoes and looked up again, angling his head to try and read the upside down words as he did so.

  “I’m not sure how to pronounce it, but it says, “Lespri Bondye nan syèl la.”” said Neep and Daisy gasped.

  “I know that language.” She said. “Lots of merchants from the Old Coast spoke it. The province of Nitial. You sort of pick it up when haggling is the only currency they deal with.”

  “What does it mean?” asked Bones.

  “Well literally it means, “Sky father”.” said Daisy as Bones and Neep listened intently, “The Niashans believed that the world is guarded by earth and sky, hence the Father of the Sky and the Mother of the Earth.”

  “I see.” Said Neep, “but what is it doing on a nameplate on what looks like a great big basket?” To their surprise Daisy gulped loudly.

  “That is but a rough translation though.” She said, putting her hands on Bones’s shoulders, “A closer translation for “Father” as in “sky” would be, “air.”” Bones sat down suddenly, working it out in his head.

  “”Father” translates better as, “spirit” doesn’t it?” He said, looking up at Daisy who nodded, “” Spirit of the Air”.” Whispered Bones as Neep’s mouth fell open.

  “Is there a nameplate on the other basket?” Said Bones, almost shouting as he rushed forward. Neep tested his weight on the next step and rose a little higher, the other basket hanging around the corner of the tower out of reach. Neep slowly tried and mounted four more steps in quick succession. He was now a good thirty feet in the air, and as he tried the next step it cracked under his foot, and Neep clung to the tower which shook and swayed ominously.

  “Careful, Neep!” hissed Daisy, “You are high enough to break a limb or worse up there should you fall down.” she said.

  “Thanks.” said Neep. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Neep leaned forward a little, on tiptoes again, “I can see a nameplate. Hang on.” Neep spun alarmingly around, carefully moving along the basket side as he did, trying to glimpse the plate.

  “I can see it.” Said Neep, “Just a little word this time.”

  “What is it?” Shouted Daisy.

  “Again, I am not sure how it is pronounced but it is only a small word.” He spelt it out, “I and a W then an A and an R.” He moved back a little. “IWAR.” he said.

  “What does it mean?” asked Bones, taking hold of Daisy. He could not help but notice that Daisy looked a curious mixture of surprised and angry. “Come on Daisy. This could be important to me!”

  To his great surprise he shook him off. “Back to camp!” she suddenly exclaimed, more or less spinning on her heels and heading back towards the beach at a fair pace. Seeing them moving away Neep descended the steps a little way and then dropped to the ground, running to catch them up.

  “What does it mean?” he called after her.

  “Tell me.” said Daisy, ignoring them both, “When we came ashore did Mister Dormouse come or is he still on the ship.”

  “I think he is still on the ship.” said Bones, his head reeling not just at the change of direction in their conversation, but also at the speed she was walking.”

  “I’ll bet he bloody is.” Spat Daisy, “When we get back to camp Mister Bones send a rowing boat for him. I want to speak to him and I want to speak to him NOW.”

  “Why?” asked Neep.

  “Iwar.” said Daisy, almost running now, “is the Nishan word for, “Dormouse”.”

  ***

  The rowing boat pulled ashore, Dormouse sitting at the stern of the boat, arms crossed, a distinct look of irritation about him. Daisy stood on the beach, foot tapping
on the sand as two pirates removed him from the boat and deposited him on the beach. The journey that she, Neep and Bones had walked meant that it was already mid-afternoon and the sun blazed down on them, causing sweat to run down Neep’s back. He could not decide whether it was because of the heat or of anticipation. Dormouse looked at the island, then the door and sniffed as if in disdain.

  “I really must protest, captain!” He grumbled, “I was on the verge of concluding the recalibration of my hammock to preclude any chance of falling out whatsoever.”

  “Really?” asked Daisy icily, and Dormouse stopped in front of her.

  “Indeed. Must keep the mind occupied of course. Very important is that.” Daisy ignored him.

  “So why did you pick the name, “Dormouse” in the first instance?” asked Daisy, “Mister Bones here tells me that when he asked your name, you said, “Dormouse” because you don’t make a lot of noise and that you are partial to a piece of cheese or two.”

  “That’s correct.” said Dormouse, looking just a little rattled.

  “Bollocks.” said Daisy, spitting at the old man’s feet, “Now tell me the truth or I am going to get very creative with several stakes, a jar of honey and some ants.” Dormouse gulped.

  “Well, Erm…” he stammered.

  “Let me help you out.” said Daisy, walking behind the old man who did not move. Neep thought that if it was him then he wouldn’t dare move either.

  “You had been incarcerated in the cells of The Black Tooth you reckoned for some time, yet you had never actually met The Beak.”

  “Indeed.” agreed Dormouse.

  “Bad architecture you said...” said Daisy, leaning in close to Dormouse from behind.

  “A particularly unlucky minaret I seem to recall.” said the old man.

  “Yet The Beak has been in charge for some thirty years.”

  “Was.” corrected Neep, and Daisy threw him a glare that shut him up instantly.

  “So you had been there longer than that.”

  “Quite a bit, yes.” gulped Dormouse.

  “Now let me see.” said Daisy, moving in front of Dormouse again, “It seems to me that you never seem to stand still for very long. Always recalibrating, improving, inventing.”

  “Is it a crime?” said Dormouse simply and Daisy smiled.

  “Legend tells that Capability Jones vanished some sixty years ago, not long after there came tales of a great treasure and a map leading to it. Yet it has never been discovered.”

  “I fail to see what this has to do with me. Can I go now?”

  “Oh, Mister Jones.” laughed Daisy, “Do you really think I am stupid?” Dormouse seemed almost to deflate, his shoulders slumping. He fell to the ground before her, holding his head.

  “Of all the cells in all of the world and you had to wander into mine.” He sighed before standing again. “Yes. You have it plain and simple. I am Capability Jones.”

  “And this is your island.” smiled Daisy.

  “It is.” he said.

  “Then open the bloody door.” She said, and a look of alarm crossed Jones’s face, “I want the legendary treasure that is held within the volcano. I’m not going anywhere without it.”

  “It is not a thing of science.” sobbed Jones, falling to his knees and pleading with her, “I am but a man of science and engineering. A lively mind yes, but a mystic, no. When you combine the two then chaos is bound to result. Science and magic should never be combined. I know that now of course, but I did not know it then. When I realised the error of my ways I took steps to hide away what I had created. The map and key, the traps that held them. I thought I was so clever, but of course the whole thing is cursed.”

  “What is in there?” asked Neep gently.

  “I will not say.” Said Jones, suddenly animated, “You must find out for yourselves if you have the need to. Perhaps you will leave it alone when you see. My arrogance was my downfall I am afraid, and it is for that reason if no other that I disappeared.” There was a small pause. “That and an ill-advised minaret of course.”

  “Then open the door.” said Daisy, her arm outstretching up to the huge edifice that dominated the cliff face.

  “Very well.” Said Jones, and he strode up the beach with everyone following him. As he approached the door he counted on his fingers then moved forward a few paces. He then stepped sideways to his left and stared at a small rock. Bending down he upturned it easily, for it was false. Inside the case of the rock was a small key and what looked like a luminous bottle. “Just in case I ever got locked out.” said Jones, “I always like to keep a spare.”

  “What’s in the bottle?” Asked Neep, noticing that the small receptacle seemed to be flashing sporadically with blue light.

  “Nothing.” Said Jones, and Bones leaned forward and snatched it out of his hand. Jones tutted as Neep, Daisy and Bones examined it. It was a small bottle that had no top, the glass permanently sealed. Inside shot bright blue bolts of light interspersed with forked tongues of white light.

  “Bottled lightning.” Said Jones, “Strong stuff. The inscription on the base of the bottle says, “To open break glass.” by the way.” Jones winked. “Old Jeruvian. Great language for codes and what have you.” he broke into a whistle as he approached the door. “Bottles too.” Jones leaned forward and tapped the door at the bottom about three feet off the ground. A small keyhole slid into view and he put the key in and turned it in the lock. Instantly a small door approximately six foot by four foot opened. “Big door is a decoy.” he winked. “Very effective by the look of it. Practically indestructible I would say.”

  Daisy peered into the blackness inside and drew her head back instantly.

  “Smells of death.” She gagged, “Bring a torch!” From the beach a torch was passed along the massed pirates and Daisy peered inside once again, her hand covering her nose. The torch revealed a sight of horror.

  Bodies were piled inside the door, leading down into a steep wide passageway that faded into the dark. They were in various states of decomposition, some mummified, others rotting. The stone on the now open door showed many marks, as if those trapped inside had been desperately trying to escape.

  “What is this?” hissed Daisy, reeling around to face a somewhat embarrassed looking Jones.

  “Ah yes. You have probably noticed by now that there don’t seem to be many natives about the island?”

  “None that we have seen.” said Bones.

  “Well here they are.” said Jones, a pleasant lilt in his voice, “The natives. Very hard working chaps. I got them building these tunnels and what lies within almost straight away. Unless I am very much mistaken, and I doubt if I am,” he tapped his nose for emphasis at this point, “The whole tribe should be in here.”

  “What happened to them?” whispered Daisy.

  “Well when I came to the conclusion that my creation, or treasure as you call it, was not just pure science, but of the, shall we say, “mystical” as well then I took steps to hide my work away. I was amazed when you crossed the Seven Tines. I thought the map and key would never be found of course. But there we have it.”

  “You said that you had never seen the moonlight on the coral before.” remembered Bones.

  “Indeed. Far too much fuss. My work here required materials in vast amounts. I crossed the Tines by other means.”

  “And what were they?” enquired Neep. Jones looked very pleased with himself.

  “I call it travel by heated air sack.” He said, “I fly over the Seven Tines in a basket beneath a bag of heated gas and air. Quite effective. At the height of my work here I would have several air sacks afloat at a time. That is what the wooden structures are on the beach. We used them as a dock for the heated air bags to land on to be loaded and unloaded of materials. Under my instruction these beaches were hives of industry and discovery, my materials arriving daily by air. Of course once I began working with the natives they knew of the coral path through the Tines and told me all about it. Seemed far too
much trouble for my liking, but even so I added it to the map. Never saw the phenomenon myself though. Not until you guided the Magpie through it with me on board, of course.”

  “Very good.” said Daisy, staring at Neep and Bones as if to gain control of the conversation, “But what happened to these people here?”

  “Oh.” said Jones, as if suddenly remembering that they were there, though Neep thought that the sheer stench of the tunnel would prevent that.

  “I made steps to leave hurriedly. The volcano contains many poisonous gases. I discovered re-venting the tunnels in a certain fashion would send those gases into the caverns.”

  “You poisoned their air?” said Daisy, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yes.” said Jones, smiling, “Though you have no need to worry. The gases will have burnt off by now. It is quite safe.”

  “Really?” said Daisy, and as swift as the lightning in the bottle that Neep was now carrying, Daisy punched him under the chin as hard as she could. The old man’s eyes crossed and he fell to the ground like a stone.

  “Clear this tunnel.” Said Daisy darkly, “I want these people buried. Mass grave will have to do, and I want words said over them when it’s done. Do you understand?”

  “Yes captain!” shouted a chorus of men from behind her and Daisy left, returning to the late afternoon sun and the beach, the stench lingering in her nostrils long after she had left the tunnel far behind.

  Chapter 30

  ~Into the Fire~

  Daisy remained absent during the burial of the natives, though her influence could be seen everywhere. She had made a brief trip back to the Magpie to assess the damage to her ship and Neep thought that judging by the expression on her face upon her return to the island that the news from the Magpie was not terribly good.

  In the meantime, the crew ashore had made themselves busy with not just the mass burial but also establishing camp on the shore. Fires were lit, food prepared and slowly but surely the bodies of the natives were taken from the entrance to the cliff and placed in a communal pit that had been dug just a little way off into the jungle. It was an unsavoury task at best, thought Neep but nevertheless he helped out, a bandana knotted very tightly across his nose and mouth, and eventually the tunnel was clear.