I couldn’t let the Good Captain and his crew follow me onto the Island of Gold any further. It was clear to me that whatever stood between us and the untold riches of the island was in fact connected to me. I could not have told why, I could not even have thought of a logical reason other than some weird voodoo magic trick that had been laying in wait for my return. But even that was not a good explanation.
I was so sure about my thought that I managed to convince the Good Captain and his crew to remain where they stood and let me tackle the island head on. If I was to survive I would return, if by night fall I had bot returned I told them to leave and forget about me. The Good Captain, bless his soul once he was convinced this was the only way said they would not leave but I assured him he had too.
So now here I find myself alone, my recently found crew behind me somewhere and I am about to take on whatever it is that this island has been keeping secret for oh so long. There is no more us, no more seeing the story through the eyes of others, there is just me and what I can see and tell.
Whether I had made some cunning pact many a year before with some untold evil demon I could not tell you, but this island had it in for me. It wanted to see me bleed, not at the dullness of a well used and expired blade but bleed emotionally until there was nothing left.
I had not an idea of where I was headed but when I stole a quick glance behind me, looking from where I ha left the Good Captain and his crew I could no longer see hide nor hair of the large group. The fight against the stockade wall weighed on my mind, what purpose did a crew of dead men who all looked the same serve when they simply fell where they stood? What purpose did the stockade wall have when it simply disappeared in a cloud of smoke?
Sweat was dripping from the furrows and line in my brow as I took each step, it rain down the side of my face, I had never sweat so much in my life, not even enclosed in that dirty hell pit where Captain Bildgepoole had found me. When the beads of sweat hit my eyes they stung, as the touched the corners of my mouth I was powerless not to use my tongue to stop them, that was when I found out they just how salty my own sweat really was. For every pirate who has been told the tale that salty tears are indeed happy tears there is just as many who were told salty beads of sweat from the brow are beads of fear. I was not one to ever disbelieve a pirate tale, foolish it would seem to do so now.
There is no one else to keep look out, I must keep watch on every direction as well as I can, although for some unknown reason I suspect what I am about to face will not be making any surprise attack. I step over a small black spot on the ground, and another, and another, and another, and another. What they are I do not now, they remind me of scorch marks from a fire long out, but yet they remind me of nothing of the sort.
I stop, look back and see lines have appeared between black spots, not straight lines as I would have traced had they followed my gait, squiggled lines. It was almost as if someone was throwing a map down onto the sandy surface as I walked, not following my every step but following my over all path. Ahead of me I see another small black spot, but only one. I step too it, counting my steps, four in total. I look behind me, sure enough a thin line straight, but kinked, kinked and crooked, crooked and meandering joint the previous black spot to the one on which I now stand.
The island is playing tricks on me, I know this, I have known this for a while, but I am powerless to do anything but be in awe of its power and ability. From the outside I might look scared, but strangely enough I do not feel it, I feel mesmerised and I suddenly know that is worse than being in fear.
I follow the black spots in the sand, one after another they appear, and one another as I step on each one a path behind me appears. It seems ridiculous that these lines keep appearing when the spots are so close together but I am beginning to understand that what I am seeing is there to fool the mind, tease the senses and possible send a pirate loopy to the point of fear and wonderment.
I have no way of tell how long I followed those spots for but I can feel the day getting cooler so either night is approaching and I must get on with doing what is required so that my crew do not leave me or I am so deep into this island that I am no longer under the influence of warm sea breezes. I keep walking along, step after step, black spot after black spot until I come across a lone palm tree.
Surprise no long has power over me and the fact that the palm tree was not there the last time I looked up does not make me curious or scared, I simply walk up to it and look at it as if I knew it was there all the time.
Three steps from the palm tree the black spots stop. I look around to see if they appear out of my somewhat tunnelled vision area, but they do not. Whatever has led me to the lone palm tree seems to want me to stop. A closer look at the tree reveals nothing above, nothing along the trunk, nothing at the base, then I see it, just the slightest hint that the tree trunk is hiding something, but what is it?
Previous Pirate story here.