New Ocean Palace


New Ocean Palace


New Ocean Palace

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The sun was high when the city came into sight. The white-sand beach and the forest of coconut palms made it a picture of tropical beauty, but that only added to my dismay as I saw what lay ahead. A large crowd had gathered on the shore, which led down to the water’s edge.

At first, I thought they were watching some sort of show, or perhaps even a parade; then I realized how wrong I was. As we approached, I could see that each person in the throng held a bundle in his or her arms: an infant or a child. And there seemed no end to them!

‘They’re dying,’ said Dr. Maturin, ‘and not one man among those people cares.’

I stared at him for a moment before he caught my eye, and I understood his meaning. We had been traveling since dawn, but still, there had been nothing like this. It was all so new. I shook my head, and the doctor turned away.

We pulled up by the shore just outside the crowd, where we found several small boats waiting with men at the oars. Captain Aubrey jumped from his seat, eager to be off, and I followed him over the rail, wondering if he would be able to make any sense of this.

But before he got more than halfway across the deck, three sailors grabbed him round the waist, pulling him back towards me. He tried to struggle free but was easily overpowered, and now two men took hold of each arm and another seized his legs and began to drag him back aboard.

By the time he reached the quarterdeck, I could hear his cries echoing along the hull, though I could do little to help him. His bodyguards, who had remained loyal to the last, had abandoned him.

I stood beside Jack until his captors forced him down onto his knees, then knelt and put a hand on his shoulder. There was a loud crack as the pistol was cocked. Jack looked up at me, his face twisted with pain, and then the gun went off.

His blood spattered me, splattering the deck, the rigging, the sails, and soon it covered everything below deck as well. For a few moments I was blinded, unable to look away. Then the shock passed, leaving behind a terrible emptiness inside me. I felt empty and alone – hollowed out, bereft.

When I dared to open my eyes again, the blood had dried. The bodies of Jack and his guards lay on their backs, facing toward the sky. One of the sailors wiped away the blood around Jack’s mouth and nose with a cloth, then threw it aside, saying something I did not understand. Another sailor brought forward a small wooden box, tied shut with string.

‘It’s a Bible,’ whispered the doctor.

There were tears streaming down my cheeks, and I brushed them away angrily. I wanted to shout at someone to stop this horror. How can you kill innocent children? Yet it was too late to protest. This was done, and now I must try to save what life I could.

A few minutes later, two sailors helped us ashore. The crowd had already dispersed, but they were still busy. People were digging holes in the sand and throwing dead babies into them. They did not seem to know how many infants had died; they just kept on throwing them in, one after another.

I walked numbly through the crowd, staring at the tiny bodies lying in the graves. Some of them were wrapped in cloth, others in pieces of clothing, while others wore nothing but their own excrement. Many of them had died of starvation.

Most had been born prematurely; they had not yet learned to suckle properly, and as a result, their bellies swelled up like balloons. They looked as though they were ready to burst, and in fact, they would have burst, but for the violence of death. Their mothers had thrown them away, believing them to be cursed, and their fathers had shot them down like dogs.

As I watched, a young boy of about seven or eight emerged from the crowd and came over to stare at me. His clothes hung loosely from his skinny frame, and his skin was mottled green and purple. His hair was long and tangled, and his feet dragged as he moved. I smiled at him, hoping to reassure him that I was no threat, but he ran away screaming, crying for his mother.

I turned away and went to find the doctor, who had taken refuge behind an old tree trunk. He was sitting with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth, and when he saw me he raised his eyes and said: ‘God damn it, man! You should have let me die!’

He took his handkerchief and wiped his face. A thin trail of blood marked its path down his chin.

‘What is happening here?’ I asked quietly.

‘They’ve lost everything,’ he replied sadly. ‘The war has killed them, and they don’t know how else to cope. What’s worse, they are afraid that the rest of the country will suffer the same fate.’

I nodded slowly. These people had suffered greatly under the French, and they feared the worst might happen again. In such circumstances, some of them believed that the only way to protect themselves was to kill their enemies, even if they were children.

Others believed that God had sent them a sign. If so, perhaps these children would grow up strong enough to defeat France once and for all. Perhaps, if we left them in peace, they would become warriors who would drive the French from our shores once more.

The doctor spoke bitterly: ‘These men are cowards. They would never have attacked a group of armed soldiers, but they’ll kill unarmed women and children without blinking.’

‘You mean that Jack didn’t do it?’

‘No, he wasn’t there. But he knew the men responsible.’

‘And where did he go?’

The doctor shook his head. ‘We haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since yesterday. It looks like he got away. Which means he’ll come back for revenge, sooner or later.’

‘That’s a shame,’ I muttered.

The doctor frowned and said: ‘Why?’

‘Because I’m beginning to think that he’s the best man we’ve ever met.’

***

We returned to the ship that evening, and I found Jack’s cabin empty. There was a note pinned to the door which read:

Dear Robert,

Thank you for saving my life. I owe you my thanks and much more besides. You’re a brave man indeed. However, I cannot allow myself to get caught in the middle of a fight between friends, so please accept my apologies. We will meet again someday. I am sorry.

Yours sincerely,

Jack

I sat down and stared at the letter. Was that really all there was to say? It felt strange – almost cold. As I stood up to leave, however, something struck me and made me turn around. On the table lay a small piece of paper, folded several times. I picked it up and unfolded it, reading the words written on it.

 Robert

 I hope this finds you well. My father says hello. I miss you both very much. Please write soon. Love,

 Alice

I looked at the name Alice. Had she really gone home? How could she do that after what she’d just been through? And why hadn’t she told us where she was going? Why hadn’t she waited for her father to return from England? I placed the paper carefully into my pocket, then headed straight for Jack’s cabin. The door was closed, and I knocked loudly before entering.

A voice called out: ‘Who is it?’

I stepped inside and looked around. The room was dark, except for the light spilling from the porthole. There was nobody else in sight.

‘Is Jack here?’ I asked.

There was another silence. Then the voice answered: ‘Yes. Come in.’

I walked over to the bunk and peered underneath. To my surprise, there was a figure lying there. At first, I thought it must be Jack, but when I got closer I realized it wasn’t. Instead, it was a boy of about ten years old. He was wearing a sailor’s uniform, and his head rested on a pillow.

His skin was pale, as though he hadn’t eaten in days; his eyes were half-closed, and his expression one of pain. He opened his mouth slightly, showing me the tips of two broken front teeth. I knelt next to him and placed my hand on his forehead, feeling the heat radiating off him.

‘How long has he been like this?’ I whispered.

‘Since last night. Since he woke up screaming. Since he tried to climb out the window. That was when I came to tell you.’

‘Didn’t your mother hear him?’

‘She doesn’t want to listen to anything anymore. She keeps herself locked in the other room. When I try to speak with her, she screams at me until I run away. Sometimes I can make her understand by talking softly, but not now. Not ever since …’

He stopped speaking for a moment, staring vacantly into space. Then he continued: ‘Not since the day they took him.’

It was difficult to imagine how anyone could survive an ordeal like that, let alone someone so young.

‘Where did they take him?’ I asked.

‘To the prison ships,’ he replied, looking at me with tired eyes. ‘They threw him in the hold and tied him to a bed. I saw them drag him there and tie him up. But I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t save him.’

His voice had taken on a hard edge, and I could see that he was trying to hold himself together.

‘What happened then?’ I asked.

He swallowed, then started again. ‘After a while, I fell asleep. When I awoke, I heard voices outside the door. They were calling to each other. Then they began banging on the walls. It sounded like they were beating him. I heard him scream.

I wanted to help him, but I was too scared. I hid under the bunk, crying, praying that they would go away and never come back. After a time, I went back to sleep, hoping he was all right.’

I nodded slowly. It was a story I had heard many times before, only it usually ended with the boy being dragged away. This time, however, things had turned out differently.

The boy spoke again. ‘When I woke up later, I found him gone. Someone had cut him free of the ropes. He must have escaped. Now we’ll never find him. They’ve taken everything. Even our clothes are gone. Everything.’

I glanced towards the desk, but there was no sign of any writing material or paper. I knew I needed to write to Alice quickly before it was too late. I didn’t know if the boy was telling the truth, but even if he wasn’t, there was still something I could do.

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. I handed it to him. ‘Here, son,’ I said quietly. ‘Take this. Write to Alice. Tell her to meet me at the top of the stairs at the end of the corridor. You need to get her away from here before the guards come.’

The boy stared at me for a moment, then gave me a grateful nod. As I left, I could feel his eyes following me as I made my way down the passage. I hurried through the empty corridors, anxious to reach the stairs as soon as possible. Just before I entered the main room, I paused and looked back at the boy.

He had already written what he had to say on the piece of paper and folded it neatly. With great care, he slipped it into his jacket pocket, then stood up and followed after me.

I had just begun climbing the staircase when the boy ran past me. I glanced behind me, but he was nowhere in sight. I shook my head and continued upwards, reaching the landing a few seconds ahead of the rest of the group.

There were several men standing around the room, most of them holding lanterns, some of them carrying rifles. Most of their attention was focused on the doorway opposite the staircase. One of the men waved to me, indicating that I should join him.

There was another man in the room who seemed to be in charge, although I couldn’t tell exactly why. He wore a black suit, with a white shirt and black bowtie. A gold chain hung loosely around his neck. He looked very important indeed. His eyes swept over the group, then rested upon me briefly.

As I stepped forward, one of the men next to me raised his rifle.

‘Stop!’ shouted the man in the suit. ‘Put your hands above your head. Slowly.’

The man hesitated, then lowered the gun slightly. The others followed suit, lowering their weapons slowly. I waited patiently, feeling more than a little relieved that nothing bad had happened yet.

The man in the suit turned to address the rest of us. ‘This is Captain Edward Smith, of HMS Terror,’ he said, motioning to me. ‘Captain Cook’s first officer. What do you think? Not bad, eh?’

One of the men muttered something about not liking the smell, but everyone else seemed impressed.

The captain walked towards me and held out his hand. I took it and gave him a firm shake, pleased to see that his grip was strong and confident. ‘Thank you for coming, Mr. Smith,’ I said politely.

The captain smiled, then gestured towards the others. ‘And these are the survivors of James Ross,’ he told them, using his thumb to point to the nearest man. ‘Mr. John Franklin.’

Franklin bowed his head slightly. ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.’

Another of the men laughed softly. ‘We’re glad to be alive, sir. That’s for sure.’

I tried to keep my face straight, but it felt like my heart was going to burst. For a brief moment, I thought that I might faint.

‘Well, well,’ murmured the man in the suit. ‘So you’ve finally arrived, eh, Captain? And you brought along all these fine gentlemen. We’re certainly lucky today, aren’t we?’

‘It seems so,’ agreed the captain, nodding. ‘Now, let’s go outside, shall we?’

He led the way out of the building, and the rest of the group fell in behind him. When we got to the door, he stopped and opened it carefully. Beyond lay the long, narrow beach where we’d spent the night. It was covered in snow now, except where the wind had blown the powdery stuff off the cliff walls.

In the distance, the land rose up against the sky. On the far side, I saw a small hill rising out of the snow-covered landscape. I wondered if that was the same place where the three ships had been abandoned earlier.

The captain went to the edge of the cliff, peering down over the edge. After a minute or two, he returned to the group and beckoned for the rest of us to follow. Everyone crowded around the edge and began looking down, taking turns gazing down into the ravine below. Some people even put their faces close to the rock face, trying to peer inside.

After a while, someone suggested that they look around the other side of the mountain. Another voice objected: ‘Not likely there’ll be much of a view from this side, will there?’

When no one answered, he pointed to the hill on the horizon. ‘If we could get up there, perhaps we could have a better view of the valley. Perhaps even the lake.’

The captain nodded. ‘That’s an excellent idea,’ he said. ‘But we’ll need to find a way to cross that frozen stream first.’

The End

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