The Legend of the Phantom Fleet

Prologue

The sky was full of thunder clouds cracking lighting like a dozen fleets of ships firing cannons at each other, the rain poured down endlessly only increasing the misery of the prisoner being dragged by a four brown skinned people, dressed in a tunic and tights an attire Tulaji knew was foreign probably portugese. The prisoner was bloodied perhaps from torture and was being taken to one of the gloomy ends of the castle that was rotting with the smell of death, behind the soliders and prisoner walked two men dressed in aristocratic attire, one wore a body hugging short sleeved waist coat worn over a loose full sleeved white shirt and a pair of trouser, he was definitely Portuguese as his brown hair and fair skin reflected. The other however surely belonged to the southern part of the sub continent as was evident from his dark skin and hair as well as the sharp features, “perhaps royalty” Tulaji deduced looking at him and his silk woven clothes the group passed him unwary of his presence and the two continued their conversation

“Your majesty Zamorin, I would like to make the assumption that at least now you would think good of us”

 “That whatever the misconceptions existed between my predecessor and your father should now be proven wrong” said the Portuguese, fishing for compliments from the zamorin.

“Of course Dias, you have proved to be a worthy friend more precious to me than this four generations old snake” the Zamorin replied in a deep voice pointing towards the prisoner.

“Zamorin… Dias… Dias Bartolomeu” Tulaji said to himself as if he knew these names from before. Suddenly his eyes widened as something dawned upon him

“Could it be…. No ... but then the prisoner should be..” he said to himself before he fixed his gaze upon the prisoner

The group was out of the tower now and on to an open pathway that led to a corner of the castle, the rain was unable to dither the ravens sitting on the walls of the pathway, a huge shirtless masked fat man stood like stone in the rain looking towards the approaching group. Tulaji attempts of looking at the prisoners face was unsuccessful as the night was pitch black and he couldn’t even see the path he walked. He could now make out that the prisoner was being hung on to a piece of rope, probably by the neck “Execution !!!!” exclaimed tulaji.

He plunged forward to have a look at the prisoner one last time but before him the zamorin moved closer to the prisoner

“Tell me … tell me, where you have hidden it and I might consider sparing you life” he said to which the prisoner only breathed as calmly as he had been breathing since tulaji had first laid eyes on him.

“Tell me !!!!!” yelled the zamorin. His words conceding with the lightening striking the ocean in the distant horizon and revealing the bearded figure tulaji had seen in paintings and heard about in bed time stories from his father.

“Kunhali….kunhali Markkar” tulaji uttered to himself.

“NEVER !!!!” said the Markkar as lightning  struck again in tandem with the opening of the floor contraption that had been keeping the Markkar alive, and tulaji saw his childhood hero being hung in horror.

“Aho..” he heard a familiar feminine voice but couldn’t respond as he was still petrified, the voice came again but this time with a warm touch on the shoulder.

“Aho… what happened ???” she asked again this time shaking him out of his sleep.

Tulaji opened his eyes to find himself in his bed chamber, he looked at himself and found his body wet from the rain and he continued to breathe hard.

“Aho … what happened …. Why are you sweating profusely??” she asked again.

Tulaji looked into the worried eyes of his wife Jijabai and clamed himself down.

“Dream.. it was just a ... dream” he said as if it was more of a self assurance than an answer to his wives question. He got up from the bed and moved towards the balcony of their royal chamber.

The moonlight shone brightly over the ocean and the claim of a summer sea reflected in the lullaby like soothing sounds of the waves crashing into the rocky terrain on which the fort of Vijaydurg was built. The beautyof the konkan coast had never stopped to amaze him and he like countless times before him sought peace from it.

Jijabai partially knew the answer to the question she had asked for this was not the first time it had happened.

“Was it the same one???” she asked, to which tulaji remained silent for a long time before replying “Yes”.