The Legend of the Phantom (27 page)

“They would kill you and the child… and then kill me… because I would try to defend you.”

“Don’t you recognize that this son of ours would be the greatest warrior ever born?” Instead of an answer Xena broke down and cried. Furious the Second shouted, “Then we shall all die together!”

“No, Kit! I can’t bear to see you die, my
god made man. Please take the child and go.”

“I will not!”

“You must! Here, take this necklace, and find a nearby village. Buy a mother tapir that has child and use its milk for this my baby. But first let me give him suck, that he may know his mother.”

“I will not
leave!”

But eventually she made him see her reason. So it was with heavy heart that the Second left with his new son, Kit, in search of a tapir. Angry, hurt, and done with women, he picked up his quest once again in search of his legacy; in search of the Eyrie, otherwise known as Walker’s Table.

Once he had reclaimed the Eyrie, he returned to England to his grandfather’s estates in Whitby and there met a commoner Englishwoman named Anne that was once widowed herself and being barren by nature found room enough in her heart to raise young Kit as her own.

It took
him many years to eventually ask for her hand in marriage, deciding that he needed a mother for his son, and together they moved back to the deep Woods… but he never forgot the Indian princess of the Amazons.

Kit read on and on about the Second. By the end of the day the Phantom had scoured the several volumes of vellum of the chronicle of the Second. He finished the account of the Second with the great Phantom’s death by Barbary pirates. ‘What a man,’ he thought to himself, ‘to be born into such a legacy’. Unfortunately, nowhere in his search of the First’s chronicles did he remember reading the word, ‘Ámona’ as written across the edge of the coin, nor had he found anything in the current chronicle of the Second.

However, all was not for naught, as he found instead a
reference to the rings that were avowed the First by his father, a story that the First used to tell as a bedtime story to the Second when he was but a small boy, which read in part,
“
which rings were avowed to be given him one day…beside the hallowed grave at the top of the 199 wooden steps, of the which lead to th
e
Regenfrith Monaster
y
on the cliff… by the olde parish church at the top… back in the land of his inheritance… in the coastal towne of Whitby
.
”

‘Whitby…’ thought the Phantom, ‘
There was something recent I had seen about Whitby… some sort of article.’ Kit pondered it for a moment before his infallible photographic memory gave him the answer. It was the second story headline on the newspaper about the cursed treasure he had read in Paris. ‘Ah, yes. The guard that was found dead in a desecrated grave. I wonder whose grave it was? Oh well,’ thought Kit, having solved that mystery a bit, ‘time to find out about Ámona.’

Chapter
39

“Ámona!” Called out the hired captain, using the old Taìno Indian name for the island. “There’s the island of Mona!” he cried out pointing to the dark shape in the distance; following up the old name with the new. The call came as a much wanted and needed exclamation after the 3 hour boat ride. “But we’re not there yet. We still’s got some rough water to pass, so I’s suggest youse hold onto yer hats!” The warning was warranted as there were still moments of bucking wave action that seemed determined to drop them into the brink. Many of the six men looked sea sick.

As the boat finally pushed past the reefs into the beaching area,
the old hired captain said to Stripes, “It’s safe now to send someone over to pull the boat up on shore.”

Stripes
nodded his head that he understood and turning to the man closest to him, he handed him the tow line, and pushed the younger man out of the boat into the swirling water. The man tripped as his feet hit the sandy bottom and he momentarily fell dunking himself under. Yet he held onto the tow line and with much effort, made for shore.

Others shortly joined him…
on command from Stripes, many of them wanting to get out of the boat as quickly as possible anyway. Together they dragged the boat and occupants with them while Stripes barked commands from his comparatively dry seat.

“Check out that sea!” exclaimed the captain after they had landed. No one even looked up.
Had anyone bothered to look and been compelled to care, the last rays of the sun ignited the sea with pastels that would have made a bridesmaid flush with envy.

Instead, as the men carried their gear from the boat to the higher shore, one of them
stumbled over a dark rock that protruded up from the sandy shore. Cursing he complained, “Why did we have to travel at night? I can’t see a blasted thing!”

The
others grunted their assent.

Their travel at dusk was for reasons of stealth, not safety
; not that Stripes would have cared for the safety of his crew, aside from his own selfish reasons.

However, had any of them studied the way the water of the strait flowed, they would have by choice travelled later. The reason was a simple one. Strong currents and
heavy wave action develop during the day light hours make it difficult to traverse the passage. The only truly safe time to cross the channel is in the late night hours, from midnight to sunup.

It was with welcome relief that the old captain left them as he headed back to the big island. His only concern was that he had to return shortly with
two others. A man and a woman; and as all seamen know, woman are bad luck when it comes to ships.

Christopher Columbus first encountered Mona Island, called Ámona by the Taìnos who lived there, on his second voyage to the New World on a trip between Puerto Rico and Hispaniola in 1493. The rugged island lies 45 miles west of Puerto Rico, but largely remains untouched as strong currents, high waves, and numerous sharks make the Mona Passage one of the most dangerous waterways in the world.

Its
beaches, some 5 miles in total length, are whiter than those of Puerto Rico. Often compared to Galápagos, Mona Island teems with animals, some endemic, such as the Mona Iguana which is considered the most spectacular single form of life on the island. Found nowhere else in the world, it attains four feet in length but is harmless. Their nests consist of a tunnel burrowed into the soil, which are commonly found on the coastal plain.

Even the water is crystal clear, teeming with fish with over 270 species and in the wintertime the waters are frequented by humpback whales, usually several at a time with their young. Year-round sea turtles, dolphins and marlins frequent the coast.
With so many available food sources, sharks abound there as well.

From the sandy beach begins a coastal forest which changes into a highland forest as the plateau rises. Finally on the plateau base it turns into low scrub
trees and cacti.

Outside of the sandy shoreline, t
he native mammals of Mona Island are two species of bats; one of which feeds on fish. It is presumed that in the past their population was greater than the present due to the great amounts of guano (odorless excrement that is used as a fertilizer or gunpowder ingredient due to its high levels of phosphorus and nitrogen) which was regularly mined throughout the centuries.

Th
roughout, the terrain is rough and the ground is sharp-edged and pockmarked with sinkholes both small and large.  The pockmarked landscape is largely due to constant corrosion of the surface, called karstification, the result of acidic water acting on soluble limestone creating dolomite rock: a solid crystallized form of limestone. Yet, while it is difficult for humans to walk on karst, the native iguanas, and less native feral goats and pigs are surefooted upon the island. The latter two having been introduced by Spaniards to reproduce and supply food for seafarers.

It was the goats that first noticed the boat landing as the six strong men hauled their gear up the beach in search of a late-night campsite.

Two days later the captain
returned with the man and the woman. The man largely altogether ignored him but the woman was another story. She was quite the good looker and though he tried to talk small talk with her during their 3 hour tour, she seemed more inclined to ignore him unless she wanted information. To that end he was more than willing to talk. He knew all about the island, its history, its plant and animal life and its many natural wonders. The man found it easy to talk, prodded on by her questioning.

As the pair was arriving at the island, the Phantom prepared to leave Boquerón, Puerto Rico. The man he commissioned to take him across the channel seemed all too fine with the midnight excursion explaining that he preferred being safe than dead. A few hours later he was well on his way to the island.

“When we get there, where would you like to land?” asked the owner of the small craft. “
There are two landing sites that are considered the best,” he added. “There’s that of Pájaros, which in the southwest… or Sardinera in the west, which is closer to the management office.”

“Where are the oldest ruins on the island?” countered Kit, his fedora whipping in the wind.

“Ah! You’re talking about the old remains from the Taìno village visited by both Columbus and Ponce de León. That’s Sardinera. Yes, they are still to be found.” The man settled in as he spoke of the place, “Among those remains you will find what appear to be Taìno inscriptions, some pictographs and petroglyphs. There are even some old skeletons.”

“Skeletons?” repeated Kit.

“Yes, skeletons, and other relics.”

“What about old forts, or stone buildings?” inquired Kit.

“Well, along with the ruins you can find stone walls, graves, and old trails. Even some old forts.”

“What about caves?”

“Caves? Well there are more than 700 caves on that island. Two right near where you’re going. Cueva Negra and Cueva del Aqua.”

“Sounds perfect
,” replied the Phantom

“Yes. You could say that..
. You are into the old stuff, eh?”

“Yes.”

“Well then the Taìno village it is! And not too far away, and due east as the crow flies, are the ruins of an old Taìno ball court.  Now, you’re in for a treat, but I see you didn’t pack much of anything. There isn’t much water out there and I have plenty here in the boat.”

“I see. And what does this water cost?”

“Not too much. I run a fair operation here…”

The trio arrived a bit after midnight local time. The captain of the small boat knew where he had dropped off the last group and upon arrival found them camped out not far from that spot.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed the ride. If you would be so kind as to pay an old man for his efforts.” He had already been paid by the first group but there was never a moment lost on the old captain to try to double his money. As he watched the younger man fish inside his coat, the captain thought to himself that maybe it wasn’t so unlucky to have a woman in the boat
. Then Les whipped out his gun.

“
Wh…What is this?” he stammered.

“Payment,” Les simply stated. The old man didn’t even have time to respond as the first bullet collapsed his lung and the second entered his heart.

Stripes woke to the sound of the pistol firing and hurried over to join them at the edge of the beach. He walked over to the body of the captain, and after a moment, kicked some sand on top of it with his foot.  “Les, Lady Heloise, its good to see you,” he said with his perpetual sneer.

Les
returned, “Not so much on my part, Stripes. I think you played your last role a bit too well, back there in Costa Rica. And you killed John.”

“
I hated John.”

“I don’t care. And if I ever catch you grabbing my wife’s butt again…
”

“
Oh did that bother you? I understood you wanted it to look real?”

“I
will…” began Les.

“Stop bickering boys,” interjected
the Black Widow, ignoring Stripes’ use of her real name as she stripped down to her bikini top and a sarong. “I’m tired and need some sleep. Where are our hammocks?”

As they approached their
hammocks which Stripes had suspended in Sea Grape trees along the beach they were astonished to run across their first denizen of the place; a large, hissing, 4 foot long iguana. 

“Look at that thing!” Les whispered in awe at the size of the beast as Les pulled out his own pistol.

“Put that away,” commanded the Black Widow. “The old chap said they were harmless.”

As the trio stopped, the iguana moved on, looking for a better place to dig a hole and nest for the night.

“
Well, there’s been too much excitement for this girl. I can’t wait to get some sleep,” said the Black Widow, while stifling a yawn.

“Good luck at that,” replied Stripes. “From what I have heard, these noisy birds and frogs sing 24/7.”

“I don’t hear anything,” countered Les.

“Just wait until we stop talking. They come out in full song then. Well, good night,” Stripes sarcastically wished them. Then added, “And good luck getting any sleep.”

As the small craft passed the airstrip just east of Punta Toro, the guide pointed out the light of the fire of the pirate crew.  “Looks like you aren’t alone on this island, my friend. This isn’t part of your group?”

The Phantom shook his head. “I’m alone this trip,” he replied.

“Well, you’ll surely run across them at some point. There are sometimes up to 50 different individuals here at one time… whether or not in groups.”

The Phantom looked on with hidden apprehension. He suspected he knew who was camping there. “Are we close to the village?” he asked.

“Very close. We’re passing Punta Toro now and in a few moments we will be passing Punta Oeste and then we’ll land at Playa Sardinera.”

The Phantom nodded and let his eyes watch the campfire as it slowly disappeared from view.