The Ophir (7 page)

* * * *

I felt myself being lifted and carried
forward into a deeper night. Even though I served a Pagan master, I
believed in one God. Held tight in the arms of a dark angel, I knew
I was forgiven all transgressions performed in the name of the
damned and was at peace. I had escaped.

Time stood still as I flew through the
Stygian clouds toward a star shining in the velvet emptiness. The
cool gelatinous substance through which I traveled felt familiar.
Was I being reborn?

* * * *

The storm ceased. The waves calmed. The
Captain watched as the good citizens of Brighton raced to the
ocean’s edge, like fiddler crabs, to collect the bounty being
washed ashore.

“The casket’s mine. Take your hands off!”

“Are ye daft? I spotted it first!” On the
farthest end of the beach, a casket broke open, and then another
and another. Three lamia survived the tumultuous sea. The unholy
fed upon the good citizens of Brighton and then fled into the
night.

“Poor souls. They know not what awaits them.
At least we knew we were dancing with the devil when we made our
covenant; we were lost, either way. I
know
we made the
better bargain. And you me hearties, what say you?”

The crew, gathered below the wheel deck,
raised their swords in a silent salute to the Captain. Not a voice
was heard as they cheered their leader and sounded the support he
was sure of, mind to mind.

“The weasel of a man being brought aboard
will be of good use. We need him for as long as his body lasts.
He’ll go with us to the Caribbean, where will we deal with the
islanders for ship repairs, and then on to South America and
Western ports of call.

We will pay a visit to those luscious islands
along the way; take what we want, when we want it. Who is there to
say nay? Who would stand against a ship of death such as this?
None, I tell you. None!”

The crewmen bared their teeth, gold glinting
in the moonlight like twinkling stars in heaven.

“Arrghh.” They grunted in solemn
agreement.

Captain Antonio chose his crew carefully; he
chose them well. He made sure there were no families to tug at
their hearts while at sea. They were free blackguards, each and
every one of them. They were of all nationalities, with no love of
the law. They had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

* * * *

I opened my eyes; seawater spewed forth from
my filled lungs as the dark angel threw me to the deck. My mind was
slow to grasp the importance of this event. I looked at Captain
Antonio. His face, familiar in some respect, went without
recognition. Something played at the back of my mind as I struggled
to remember, to reach logical conclusions. Nothing coalesced.

“Get up!” the Captain commanded of me. “Get
up! We have much to do and little time before the sun rises.”

To his men he shouted, “Set the sails. We fly
from here.” In silence the orders went out:

“All hands on deck!”

“Weigh anchor!” The chain holding the anchor
scraped the bottom as the ship dipped into the ocean trough between
waves. Algae floated to the top with bits of shale and rock
attached.

“Haul the sheet in. Rig the storm jib.”

“About ship! Steer her abreast the coast, Mr.
Sanchez. Keep your eyes peeled for safe harbor.”

With no bright star to guide them, seas
raging in violent weather adding to the turmoil of a spring tide,
the men set sail around the cape. They skirted along the shoreline
until they spotted a giant outcropping with a hollow center
accessible at low tide. The enormous cavern could be seen from the
sea, but only if one looked for it.

It was spring tide. Both low and high tides
occurred at the same time. The equinoxes in full force, the sun
drew in line with the moon and caused a magnificent rise and fall
of the tidal level. It increased the killing force of an otherwise
beautiful, peaceful, life-giving ocean.

Boulders came in close, but left enough room
for the Captain to maneuver the great ship into the cavern’s dark
maw in a great rush. The water at the entrance was confused. It
twisted and turned as it tried to spit the ship back out into the
open sea. The crew shimmied the ship into its quarters with
expertise, knowing they would be safe from the curious in this
turbulence.

As I stood by the Captain’s side at the
wheel, we passed beneath the great opening of the cave. I looked up
in time to see a lone, dark figure standing far above, away from
the spray of salt. He draped his cape over his right shoulder. His
eyes flared red in the dark when our eyes met. I knew then that I
would never set foot on land again.

* * * *

“Bring him to my quarters,” instructed the
Captain.

Contona, an escaped slave from Spain, picked
me up like a rag doll and half carried, half dragged me to the
Captain's quarters. The Captain signaled Contona to drop me and
leave. The slave did as his captain ordered, then placed his palms
together before his face and bowed as he exited the room.

“Do you know who I am?” asked the
Captain.

“Are you God?” I asked. My brows knit
together in concentration, confusion.

“No, but I am his disciple, and you will obey
me as you would Him. Do you understand?” I looked at the Captain
with dull eyes. Seawater drooled from slack lips. I nodded.

“Yes. You are my master. You give me life and
bring me pleasure. I am but to obey.” I repeated the words like a
litany.

The Captain knew that it was part of my
previous conditioning, but it would serve him just as well. My
dulled senses were a disappointment to the Captain and myself.
Being submissive, I hoped that I would be of greater use, but now
there were doubts. My ears felt muffled; all I could hear was a
scrabbling sound. The ocean still pressed against my head. I
strained to hear but was unable to discern if my answers were
accurate.

Captain Antonio determined to hold an
interview. It was a test. If at the end of the interview I had not
provided the answers he sought, I would be given back to the sea. I
asked if I might be seated. The Captain acquiesced and indicated a
dining room chair.

As providence would have it, my hearing
cleared with a painful ‘pop’. But my processing of the spoken word
had slowed. I shook my head to clear it. I pounded on my ears in
turn as I held my head sideways to allow for drainage.

“What in God’s name, man, is this thing
coming from your ear?” The Captain reached forward and betwixt
thumb and forefinger reached toward my head.

“What are you doing, sir?” I leaned away from
his claw-like fingers.

“Something emerges. Stay still.” I did as
told. As he stood erect he examined a small creature wriggling in
his hand. It was a hatchling fiddler crab. My ears popped open
completely as the remaining droplets of ocean water seeped out.

Captain Antonio threw the crustacean to the
floor and crushed it under foot.

“Foul beasty”, he said as he wiped his
fingers on the tablecloth.

With my hearing restored and my senses
returning to a limited degree, hope for a possible future began to
grow. It did sadden me, however, to think that my circumstances had
changed but not for the better. It was poetic justice. I tried to
kill the one being that could take me ashore; now I was resigned to
a life at sea.

“That’s my proposal. Should you accept, you
will be provided for without question. Should you decide that a
pirate’s life is not one you wish to follow, you will be allowed to
end your existence in whatever final manner you choose, subject to
my approval, of course,” I’m not sure why, but his smile was not as
intimidating as that of The One.

I resolved to serve my new master in
negotiations with the inhabitants of several islands. When the time
approached, I would establish a working relationship with the
peoples of Cilicia Trachea that would prove invaluable for
decades.

Unaware of my own mental changes, my mind
grew toward senility. I was often reminded of the need to bathe.
Captain Antonio would do his best to make me presentable in the
eyes of the town’s people, but the thing he was not able to
completely erase was the pungent odor of filthy flesh. Any
encounter with me would leave a man trying to negotiate while
holding his own breath. Not an easy thing to do. I, now and again,
caught a whiff of my
own
odor but assumed it was attached to
someone other than myself.

“You know, rinsing with fresh water and then
the leaf of lime rubbed into your armpits would do wonders. Ladies
especially love the smell of a clean man. You really should
consider it now and then.”

“Tell me Ahkmed, is that your recommendation
or your practice? If it is your practice, I suggest, mate, that you
modify it for yourself in some manner. Perhaps a whole body dip in
a vat of lemon juice would serve you better than the rubbing of
just one or two leaves.”

I believed the man, not understanding that I
only meant to help, was insulted by my suggestions. After two or
three such suggestions to those I considered comrades ending with
similar results, I thought it best to leave them to their own
problems. After all, I was no longer interested in physical affairs
or the company of women. A lamb would do just as much, and they
didn’t care how you smelled.

Negotiations or instances of trade were
short, and the Captain always made the better bargain. The Captain
never insisted that I sponge my putrid body; I never suspected the
whiff I caught now and then was mine. Happily, loss of olfactory
senses, of
anything
other than blood, was one boon of
vampirism. In my case, it was an annoyance of great magnitude but
mostly to others.

In an agreement between Cilicia Trachea’s
governing body, its inhabitants, and the Ophir, the Captain would
protect the Cilician harbor against other marauding pirates, as
well as privateers, in exchange for ship’s repairs. They would also
profit from the plunder and pillaging of the attacking ships.
Islanders offered to empty their jails on a regular basis to ensure
the Captain’s health and maintain the servitude of the Cilician
people. The Captain asked for and received a place in which to
store the unlucky survivors of bedeviled ships. They too would
provide sustenance for the Captain and crew.

“Κύριε Akakios, in short, we will provide
protection and riches in exchange for safe harbor. We will visit
your town between the hours of sunset and sunrise showing complete
respect to your citizens. I promise you no harm from any member of
this ship.

Furthermore, we will house and execute any
felon you deem unworthy of life, if you can provide some sort of
housing until we clear a birth for the time of their execution. We
can amend this agreement as time goes on when needed to satisfy
mutual benefit. Agreed?”

“Yes, Ahkmed, Ustaaz. One thing we have not
established is the remuneration for our services.”

“We propose a generous ten percent of all we
collect of value. Satisfactory?”

“Only ten percent?” The Greek mayor forgot
whom he was dealing with. I didn’t reference myself, but my
master.

“No. It would be more like ten percent and
your life. Both, of course, would be forfeit if we are unable to
have a meeting of the minds. Is that clearer?”

Roman law inscribed on stone tablets in past
time set the rules for dictators and their predecessors to follow
in regard to piracy. Little had changed since those times. Minimal
damage was done to the area of Cilicia.

History would show little evidence of few
nations brave enough to travel near the land reputedly haunted by
pirates of ancient times. Most ships avoided these waters for
several hundred years, unless they sought the Ophir
specifically.

* * * *

Needing no sleep, crew and Captain maintained
a vigil throughout the hours of darkness. They had no need to move
the Ophir from the entrance of the Cilician harbor. Using their
powers in a collective effort much like a hive, they cloaked the
entrance and their ship. In this way, they could not be detected as
scavenging ships tried to take advantage of the sleepy bay. It gave
them great advantage over marauders. It afforded innocent travelers
protection by giving them free passage back to the open ocean. The
raised vibrations could be felt but not heard. It created a white
noise that took getting used to at first. Later, the citizens were
lulled into a deep and peaceful sleep by the change in energy.

At times the bay seemed deserted, at others
it looked like a free port in which the pirates could anchor to
enjoy what the town and its women offered. When the sun was high,
the entrance became a curtain of shear-faced rocks. Regardless of
its appearance, it was always a trap for those with less than
honorable intentions. Once in, never out.

Time passed. Crews, unnerved by what they
faced, sometimes gave their ships up without a struggle. They
became part of the Ophir's fleet. The 'lucky' mates that were not
eaten, were either stored for use later, or pressed into service
and made part of the flotilla used to commit further acts of piracy
in surrounding waters. Captain Antonio was fair, and human
sacrifice was still a known practice in many parts of the world. It
brought no undue attention. The government of Cilicia even allowed
for anyone foolish enough to commit a crime in their district, to
be given to the Captain for disposal. His methods were never
questioned.

Odd as it may seem to some, the relationship
was a good one. The vampire pirates kept their bellies full, so to
speak. The steady supply of disreputable human meals allowed them
freedom beyond belief. The ability to walk the streets by standing
invitation and without fear made a life at sea more bearable for
the pirates. Even though it was not often discussed, the Ophir was
the only home they had.