The Heritage

Chapter 7

The beach was mostly flat, covered with a litter of driftwood and seaweed. The two companions lay on their backs gasping for air and retching from the salt water copiously swallowed. Jared's eyes stung mightily and he tried to find a piece of garment dry enough to wipe them. Jak lay still, his long, dark hair plastered over his face, his chest heaving rhythmically.

"Are we safe?" Jared choked out the words and followed with another racking cough.

"We're on land anyway," Jak replied. He worked himself up onto his elbows and stared out to where he could still see the two boats locked in their deadly struggle. Bobbing about the wrecks, he could see the tiny heads of the surviving pirates and wondered if the traitor Gaspar was with them.

"I feel so sick to my stomach," Jared complained.

"It's the salt. It'll pass. We have to get off this beach and away from here, those men will soon find their way to shore as we did." He struggled to his feet, helping the boy, and after a cursory brushing of their clothes, they plodded through the wet sand toward a small hillock of bushes. On the way, Jak explained about Gaspar and what happened on the boat.

"You mean he deliberately betrayed us? But why?"

"Because," Jak said with heavy irony, "that's the kind of living our friend Gaspar DeGaul is involved with apparently."

"Piracy?"

"Yes."

They climbed the small hillock and slid down the other side where the sand merged with crabgrass covered earth that retreated from the beach at a slight incline; immediately the breeze that had billowed the boat's sails disappeared and they felt the full warmth of the sun. Jak told Jared to strip off his damp clothes while he did some foraging, returning moments later with a fresh cut and trimmed sapling about ten feet long. With the new pole, draped with damp clothes, resting on their shoulders, they set off inland in search of someone to ask for direction.

Eventually the clothes dried in the sun and after rolling, shaking and flapping the dried sea salt off, they regained some of their soft comfort. Jak cut the sapling in half, giving them each a staff and they set off again, this time down a trail they had been following for a short distance. An old man, seated at the side of the trail, feeding a small goat a carrot, waved and greeted them with a friendly smile.

"A pleasant day to you, sirs. You've traveled far." It was not a question but a statement.

"Aye," Jak answered. "And dangerously. We were attacked at sea by pirates and had to swim for our lives."

The old man's eyes twinkled. "Gaspar DeGaul."

"You know him!" Jared brought his staff down threateningly.

"All who sail these waters know, Gaspar. You boarded at Caval, correct?"

"Yes."

"Aye, that's Gaspar's base. And I'll wager you were pursued by a pair of swift sloops." The goat nuzzled the old man's arm for more attention.

"Well they won't be pursuing anyone else for some time." Jak said. The old man's shaggy brows crashed together in surprise. "Both sloops and Gaspar's Sea Surf are just so much debris on the water now."

"Lord love us! Tell me more. Better still, come with me to my home, I'll gladly trade food and drink for the details of such a story." He hauled himself up and slipped a rope about the goat's neck, waving for them to follow him up the trail.

It was late afternoon before Jak and Jared could take leave of the old man's hospitality. Jak had to tell of their adventure in the tiniest of detail; nothing escaped the man's attention. They were well fed as promised, and well educated about the place marked 'X' on their map. Lucas, the old man, told them that the village was called Playa de Oro because of the golden sand but that there was nothing golden about the inhabitants.

Heathens, he called them. Heathens from across the sea with their braided hair and squinty eyes; even their language bore the sound of witchcraft. Not many strangers from the outside passed through Playa de Oro without fearing for their very lives. Jak and Jared listened carefully, asking pertinent questions and finally, thanking the old man they bade him farewell.

"Should we be going to this place as it gets dark?" Jared asked.

"The better to scout the village without being seen. If it is dangerous, we don't want to just stroll in without warning."

"How will we know where to go from there? Won't we need someone to guide us according to the map?"

"I expect we will, but let's worry about first things first." Jak left the trail and cut toward the village at an angle across a field of wildflowers. In the fleeting light, they could just make out the shapes of small, irregular huts with thin chimneys. Smoke swirled lazily into the still night from a number of those that they could see against the darkening sky. As they approached the nearest hut, Jared heard the soft whinny of a horse and pulled at Jak's sleeve.

"Look, over there!" He whispered. A pair of horses with some goats and chickens scuttling about their feet, nuzzled at the fence of a small paddock. "That's my pony!"

Jak put a finger to his lips and stole silently over to the fence. Immediately his horse jerked its head back and snorted, dancing on its front feet.

"Steady boy, shhh!" He reached over the fence and took the bridle that was still around the horse's head and pulled him close. "So you made it after all. Both of you. Good boy. Shhh now, be calm."

"Please come away from the horses... carefully."

*****

There were four of them. Jared couldn't help but stare; Lucas's remark about squinty eyes was true and not only that, they wore their hair in a single braided tail that hung from a half shaved head. The speaker stood with his legs apart and one hand on the hasp of a very long sword.

"Come away, please." He repeated, and Jak and Jared complied stepping cautiously away from the paddock.

"I can explain," Jak began.

"And you will-inside." The speaker made a series of strange grunting sounds and the other men surrounded the pair, urging them to follow their leader.

Another surprise awaited them in the tiny hut. Many coloured candles, their smoke carried away through the chimney, made the single room bright and warm. In the centre was a low, round table set with short pieces of wood and tiny cups. An old woman knelt at one side of the table, watching stone-faced as the group entered.

The men bowed and slipped off their boots, indicating their captives should do the same then pointed to places around the table where they all sat. Jak and Jared struggled to sit cross-legged at the low table, drawing an amused smile from the old woman

When they were all comfortable, she moved about the table with a rustle of soft material, pouring clear, hot liquid into each cup. The men picked them up, waiting for Jak and Jared to do the same, and then with another burst of strange grunts, they swallowed the liquid down. Jak gasped and clutched his throat while Jared coughed and sputtered, falling sideways from the table.

"It is not a familiar drink for Gaijin." The leader remarked pleasantly. "We will eat and you will tell us your business here."

After the liquid drink, Jared was concerned about trying anything else but the scents from the dishes on the table were tantalizing and his fascination of the wooden sticks that the strange men ate with made him want to try. The meal was extraordinary. Never had he eaten anything so delicate yet filling and a further attempt at the hot drink met with success and enjoyment. Bowing constantly, the old woman cleared the few dishes from the table while the men lit long curved pipes, not offering any to Jak or Jared. When the silence had just about stretched to its limit, the leader spoke.

"I will hear your explanation now."