Ocean Drums
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The sun had barely risen above the horizon when a huge shape passed in front of his telescope; he could see nothing but blackness on its underside. He waited for it to come around again, and this time saw it more clearly: it was the great hull of the ship, its bow a dark blur in the dawn sky.
As they watched the giant slowly rounded towards them, then came into view with an enormous splash as it broke through the surf. The ship’s deck was crowded with small boats, each manned by two or three men. They had seen him; the men in the boats shouted and pointed at the boat, and then suddenly every one of them threw off their oars and stood up waving their weapons.
A tall man, dressed in some kind of strange uniform, ran out from behind the masthead to greet the approaching vessel.
‘They are welcoming us,’ said John Mowat. ‘It is a long way back downriver.’
They were met on shore by a group of about thirty soldiers, led by the same officer who had greeted them when they first landed at Fort Reliance. These men were much better armed than any others that Duncan had yet seen and carried muskets instead of spears.
There were also half a dozen Indians, including one quite tall, broad-shouldered man with hair like a woman’s. When Duncan introduced himself the leader shook his hand warmly and then turned to his companions; they all fell silent for a moment, but only until the tall man began to speak, in English.
‘Welcome to the Hudson Bay Company’s fort,’ he told them. ‘I am James McGillivray, a second lieutenant in command here, and I hope you will be pleased with our arrangements.
We have not much to offer you as we have been hard hit by the attacks by your friends from across the bay: many of our men were killed or wounded last summer and we have only just got enough men and supplies together to start building a new fort at Beechey Island.
But we have made ready what food and clothing we can spare. Please accept my apologies for not having a larger welcome prepared.’
As if to make up for this Duncan was immediately taken to see the captain, who had come down from his tent to meet him. He was an old man, and thin to the point where Duncan thought that if he put his hands on either side of his head he would touch the ground. His skin seemed to sag, even at such a short distance from his skull.
He wore a black coat over a shirt of white linen, a black cloth wrapped around his neck against the cold. He smiled at Duncan, though not happily, as though to say that this was how things had to be done here. Then he motioned to a young midshipman standing near his side.
‘Take these gentlemen up on board the ship,’ the captain told the boy. ‘There are some provisions that can be spared which you may find useful; you might also want to look at the stores, and take away whatever you need. You may stay for dinner if you wish, there is plenty of food aboard.’
Duncan bowed, as did John Mowat, then they followed the youth through the door of the fort, up the gangway, and onto the deck of the frigate. Here too they were greeted with silence – though here Duncan saw several officers looking at them sharply, while others looked away quickly.
He found a good place to sit in one of the cuddy cabins, next to one of the gunports, and watched as Mowat went up to talk to the captain. For the most part, Duncan was ignored by the crew, and only once did anyone come near him; when he tried to pick up something to eat they pushed him out of the way and snatched it before he had a chance to grasp it.
He soon became tired of watching them – they were all so intent on getting on with the business of living that he felt they could have cared less whether he existed or not.
He was more interested in the people who worked at the ship; the officers seemed almost like machines, whereas there seemed no limit to the energy and enthusiasm of those who did the real work of keeping a ship running.
It was a pity that he didn’t know anything about ships; he would have liked to ask some of them about her, how she had been built, or what she was called. Perhaps later, when he knew more about this world of sailing and guns.
When John Mowat returned from speaking with Captain Sinclair he sat down beside Duncan to tell him what they had discussed.
‘We are going to sail tomorrow morning,’ Mowat told him. ‘We’ll go down the bay, and then into the river. We have a good wind, and it won’t take long to get to the mouth of the river. After that, I think we’ll turn eastwards along its coast and then head due south.’
‘And then?’ asked Duncan.
‘Then we will see what we shall see.’
‘What if you meet the French?’
‘If we do we will fight them – there are enough of us to do that well enough. They have never really been able to get their hands on any of our trade goods since we first came north, and that is why we haven’t really been able to bring in very much silver, but I don’t suppose that will change much now. In the meantime, the company has been making more money from trading in furs.’
After a few minutes more they both fell asleep.
It was late afternoon by the time they reached the mouth of the River Hudson, which was marked by a low island covered in trees. A small fishing village lay nearby, with a couple of boats moored under its wooden docks.
The houses were dark and closed, and Duncan could hear nothing apart from the sound of waves slapping against rocks. There were two tall masts, painted red and white, standing close together, and at one end of the dock, a large boat was tied up. On either side of the docks were several cannons pointed towards the land, and behind each gun, there was a row of men armed with muskets.
The ship was heading for the narrow channel leading between the shore and the main island, and Duncan wondered for a moment what the purpose of these fortifications was supposed to be. They looked to be designed for protection against attack from the land; yet there was no sign of anyone coming ashore from either side, not even from the other village.
And there were several other channels into the bay beyond this one, leading off in various directions. If someone wanted to attack this fort they would hardly have to cross a wide open space before they could shoot at the defenders.
As they approached the narrowest point in the river Duncan began to understand; it was here that the current would take the ship and sweep it past the island, carrying it away from the shore. From the shore, where they were approaching fast, there would be nothing to show that such a powerful force existed in the water below.
As they passed the narrow entrance, Duncan noticed a small cabin, set in its own little courtyard, just aft of the masts. He guessed that it might be used by the captain, although he couldn’t imagine why he would want to come out onto the deck at such a dangerous time; unless perhaps he felt the need for a rest from life’s pressures.
He turned to look at the village behind them. As they rounded the last point before entering the channel Duncan saw a small boat coming out from the docks, and he was surprised to see that it contained two women and a man; all three were dressed in black cloaks over black dresses.
They stood facing the ship for a while until their faces appeared suddenly illuminated by the setting sun; and then, as the light faded, they disappeared beneath the shadow of the buildings. Duncan realized that they must be slaves, and wondered again why the captain had brought them with him; although, given his reputation, it made sense.
Perhaps they had come with the cargo from New Orleans? He remembered how, on board that vessel, he had seen a young woman being taken aboard. Was she the same girl? She could have been; perhaps she was only fourteen years old.
The river was wider than Duncan expected, but they soon reached its widest point, when he thought the ship might be swept away. It seemed that its current was not so strong after all; although, once the ships started sailing down towards New York Bay, it would become an obstacle course that they had to master.
Duncan wondered how difficult it would be to get around Manhattan Island; and whether they would be able to make it past the city without having to anchor there and wait for darkness to pass before moving further inland.
He stared ahead across the darkening sea, trying to imagine what he would find beyond the horizon. He imagined ships filled with Spanish gold. Then, in the distance, he thought he could see another of the Spanish galleons, and knew that it was heading southwards towards Havana. There was nothing else; just the faint glow of lights from far away on shore.
In the stern, Duncan saw that the ship was slowing down, and he looked forward to seeing where they were headed next. They were still traveling westwards towards Cape Henlopen, and he guessed that they were about fifty miles or more from the mouth of the Delaware River. They would be leaving the bay soon and heading back out into the Atlantic Ocean.
Duncan glanced behind him one last time at the tiny village of St Georges; then he climbed out onto the gunwale, looking down into the water. He had never gone swimming in anything deeper than a bathtub; but, for some reason, this did not worry him.
He knew that if he slipped he could just swim to the side and climb back onto the ship, and no one would ever know. In fact, if he fell overboard now there would be no danger; because there was nobody to see. The captain would probably not notice that he was missing for many hours, assuming that he even cared to look back.
As Duncan watched he saw the ship start to turn slowly, and heard shouts from above telling those who were standing at the railings to move away. He knew that it was about to be fired upon.
He felt a slight movement as the first shot struck the water near where he was standing. A second later a third came flying toward him from somewhere nearby.
Duncan quickly jumped back to avoid getting hit, and he looked up to see where the shots were coming from.
A small group of men and women were standing at the top of the ladder on the forecastle, firing pistols down at the village. They were wearing long black coats over their clothes, but none of them wore anything over their heads, and it was clear that they weren’t afraid of death.
The ship rocked as a fourth shot came from above, and Duncan looked forward again, wondering if any of his friends were among the shooters. They were certainly brave people; although, from his position, he couldn’t see much more than vague shadows.
Then, from behind him, he heard a shout, and he turned to see a man running down the main deck.
‘Look out!’ he shouted as he ran, his voice loud enough for all to hear. ‘It’s a Spaniard!’
Duncan looked to the front of the ship, but he could see nothing in the way of danger. But then, as he looked back again, he saw a man in black approaching the bow of the ship. He didn’t think the man was wearing a coat over his head either, but he couldn’t tell exactly where it would be – or even if it was a man at all.
But then it moved, and Duncan saw that it wasn’t a man at all. It was an enormous creature with two long necks, like the serpents he’d seen on land before, which stretched towards the ship’s bows.
It moved forwards, and Duncan was sure that it was going to come straight at him when he noticed that it was actually climbing along the gunwale towards the deck. As he watched it, he could see that each neck appeared to have four arms attached to its head. These arms waved back and forth menacingly, as though the beast was warning off other pirates from attacking his ship.
Duncan stood watching in amazement for a while longer. It was obviously some kind of giant snake – a sea serpent? – but how could there be such a thing floating in the ocean? And why hadn’t he heard of such a thing before?
Was it a new species of animal discovered by Christopher Columbus, like the pig-nosed monkey and the parrots of paradise that he had brought back from the Caribbean islands?
As he watched the beast continued to advance towards the ship, moving around to stand directly beneath where he stood at the gunwale. It was almost half as tall as him; and, despite its apparent size, it did not appear threatening at all.
Duncan realized that it was just a large serpent – albeit a very strange-looking one indeed. And then he wondered why his mother and father never spoke about creatures like this or told him stories about such monsters.
Suddenly the beast turned away from the ship, and Duncan felt relief wash over him. At least he wouldn’t have to watch it kill everyone aboard the ship, and perhaps he would get a chance to find out what happened to the crew after he’d left. Perhaps he would never know, but at least that wasn’t for certain yet.
He started to walk back towards the stern of the ship, thinking that now might be the perfect time to jump overboard and swim away from it. If he was lucky nobody would ever see him go – unless he drowned too, of course, and no one would be able to say anything anyway.
Then he thought better of it and decided that swimming away from the ship with no clothes on would probably only make him look foolish. Besides, even if he managed to escape the wrath of the Spanish pirate vessel and make his way back home, he could hardly tell his mother that he’d been chased by a huge snake and that it’d nearly eaten him alive…
Duncan continued to walk back towards the stern of the ship, and just as he was about to climb the gangplank leading up to the main deck he saw something that stopped him in his tracks.
A large figure was standing at the bow of the ship – right beside the prow. From the way it was standing, Duncan immediately recognized it as a woman dressed in black. She was looking down into the water at the side of the ship, but her face was so covered in a veil that she didn’t seem to notice that anyone was watching her.
Duncan was suddenly reminded of his friend Sarah – or rather of his last memory of Sarah, as he had never known her personally. It seemed strange to remember someone that you didn’t know, and who wasn’t actually dead… but maybe, in a way, Sarah was still alive, even if only as an imaginary memory? That must be what it meant.
Duncan had to admit that it was an attractive image, and he was surprised at how well it fitted into the story his imagination was telling him.
And then he remembered another girl who wore a veil; one of his school friends whose name was also Sarah. He couldn’t recall her real name, as it always came out sounding like ‘Sarah’, or ‘Sara’; but he knew that she had worn a veil, and it seemed strangely familiar too.
As soon as he thought about the girl, Duncan was once again distracted by movement at the stern of the ship. A dark shape was approaching, and the figure in the black robes stepped aside to let it pass.
The figure stopped before it reached Duncan, and it was then that he saw that it was actually a tall young man wearing a black robe. It took a moment for Duncan to recognize him, but then he realized that he knew the young man’s face perfectly well. In fact, it looked exactly as it had looked when he saw him in his own dreams!
He’d seen him before. It was the boy from his dream! But where?
‘Matey!’ The voice made him start, and for a moment he was so shocked that he forgot everything else. ‘It’s me,’ said the boy. ‘I’m the captain.’
The End