Journey to the Forgotten Island

Chapter 8 - Becalmed

The cries and screeches penetrated the smoky silence of the cabin. Even the faraway rumbling of feet, the rhythmic stomping and clapping, was louder, as it reverberated through the wood, than the sighs and crunches of chewing mouths.

'More wine, Captain Adelmo?' said Gordo Manteca.

'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,' Toma said, still unused to his new name.

Gordo Manteca poured the rich vermillion wine into Toma's glass and then harrumphed and frowned towards the door. His large family, which included his wife, three adult sons, and their wives and children, who sat around the long dining table, all turned towards the door instinctively.

Gordo was a man of impressive size, his rotund belly reminiscent of a barrel of wine. His long moustache drooped low, just beyond his chin, tangling with his dense beard. His light, honey coloured skin was indicative of a life spent in the shaded comfort of nobility though his wife and children were closer to the colour of the rich paste of cacao fruit seeds crushed with butter and milk. Both honey and cacao paste were available as desserts at this noble family's evening banquets, to which Toma had been summarily invited every night they had spent aboard the Vuela.

'They're making an awful racket out there, your men,' Gordo said.

'Are you sure we are safe, Captain?' said Gordo's wife, Delga, fear creasing her forehead.

The family around the table now looked from Delga to Toma, who said, 'I assure you all that our men are no danger to you. Becalmed, as we have been, for almost ten days – they have to spend their energy reserves on dancing and singing. That is all.'

Gordo grunted and Delga nodded hopefully.

The ship had been immobile for longer than anyone had expected. They were in the middle of the ocean on waters so still that sometimes it appeared as a solid mirror. When Skipper Jon had noticed the fall of the winds, he had assured Toma it would not last more than a day or two. The other two trade boats, carrying much of the provisions, were nowhere in sight, though Jon claimed they were no doubt just beyond the horizon. They had been rationing food for seven days.

'It is an unpleasant noise they make, I admit,' Toma added. 'But the only way to keep the sailors and infantrymen happy is to give them a good ration of diluted wine every night. They would become even more belligerent without it.'

Gordo was already distracted with lighting his pipe while, next to him, one of his grandchildren coughed at the harsh smoke.

One of Gordo's sons, enlivened, said, 'I am very much looking forward to seeing those abandoned Vetustans. Can you imagine? They must be stuck in a different world and time altogether.'

'They've probably mixed with the ogres and turned into monsters,' one of the younger grandchildren giggled.

'No!' another, older grandchild laughed, 'They've been so thoroughly inbred by now that their eyes have come so close together, they only have one giant eye in the middle of their faces!'

The younger grandchildren shrieked with delight and even the wives, usually quiet and solemn, giggle and exchanged glances. The stomping and chanting of the sailors and infantrymen sounded more distant now.

Another of Gordo's sons said, 'I've lived in Mera – I mean, Duro City – my entire life. I had never imagined that one day I would travel to the far edges of the empire, let alone beyond it, into the uncharted territories. I've heard it is cold out there, is it true, Captain?'

A grandchild giggled again and said, 'Yes, Adelmo, is it true that there are monsters that eat the snow to keep their blood cold?'

Toma laughed and shook his head. 'It is indeed colder, though there are no monsters or ogres. The island does not have seasons of rain and drought as our land does. They have rain throughout the year – though the island is undergoing a period of drought in its northern parts.'