Mir Pacifica

Published: 5 Mar 2018

Thomas entered his cabin and saw that Fairley had arranged his small bunk so he could lay back and relax. Ever since Carmelo had transferred over to the Marcelo for a while so he could see how another Captain ran his ship and to also take command of the Marines on board; Thomas had felt a little lonely and the Cabin had an empty feeling to it.

Thomas shed most of his clothing before lying down and relaxing back into the pile of pillows. The small windows had been opened wide to let the faintest of breezes blow through the usually stuffy cabin. As Thomas let his mind wander on the problems now before them as Fairley appeared with a cool drink for him.

How was he going to communicate with the few ex-slaves that remained from the ship? Thomas fully understood that they could not return the ex-slaves to Luanda; it would just place them back into the same situation as before and they may not be as lucky next time. There was little to do but try to work it all out; he was in a place he had never trained for and it bothered him.

Before Thomas finally was able to let his eyes close and take a midday nap as he had become accustomed to on the Peninsular during the war; Thomas had the bright idea to seek George’s advice, if there was someone who could help in such a difficult situation it would be a man who had had to find a new way to speak without words. With a decision now made Thomas closed his eyes and let his body feel the soft cooling breeze run over his body as he fell into a light sleep.

A few hours had passed before Thomas once again opened his eyes; outside his small windows, the heat had abated somewhat and he knew the worst of the day’s heat had passed by. Thomas rose and began to dress in his lightest clothing; he even forsook the usual jacket and wore only his light cotton shirt.

Thomas did not worry about his pistols, he understood that if they were ever needed he would have plenty of time to regain them; he also knew he was now among friends although moving around without his weapons that had been such a part of him for so long took some time to get used to, although he still wore his boot knives and the two smaller knives hidden in his shirt sleeves just in case the need arose.

Thomas made his way back on deck and once on the quarterdeck he looked around below where the ex-slaves were still sheltering from the afternoon sun. It was plainly obvious that Roger Scully had been able to carry out his plan to have them dressed although it was very basic. The men wore knee length canvas trousers and the women had wrapped themselves in a blanket which went under their upper arms and tied tightly over their breasts.

The women sat a little apart from the men and had Thomas been the doubting sort he may have thought their position just behind the men had been pre-planned to protect them from any advances by the rough seamen. Thomas never found out how close his guess was.

Once again the young man he had taken note of earlier was seen to be sitting on what appeared to be a newly made wooden stool although it was only about ten inches high but put the young man above all the others. Thomas’s suspicions about the young man’s position in the tribe seemed to be correct as all the other men sat close around him but seemed to make sure their heads were never above his.

Thomas noted that Roger had returned to the quarterdeck and Lieutenant Williams was now gone; Midshipman Carter was on duty and there was no sign of young Snot Morgan. Thomas nodded to Roger before asking him.

“How did that man get a stool? Did he make it or was it brought along with them?”

“Ah hello Thomas, have a good rest? Ah yes the strange stool. One of the others saw our carpenter working on the longboats and took it into his own head to ask for the stool to be built; or more correctly he used signs and a rough drawing to ask for it. The carpenter seemed to understand after some little time and went to work straight away; didn’t take him long at all, it is rather a simple design and he only needed three pieces of wood for it. It seemed to make the other ex-slaves happy when he gave it to them. Tell me, why do you ask?”

“Well I think the young man sitting on it is more than he seems. Have you noticed how all the others seem to defer to him even though he is far younger than most? Also did you notice the women never approach him but will talk to the other older men? I think he is a leader of some sort and I think we should try to converse with him if for no other reason than to try and find out where to take them.”

“You may be right Thomas. What about that man George; he is most like them in appearance; perhaps he can get through to them and then we can make some more definite plans for their future.”

“Yes a good idea; I’ll talk to George the next time I see him.”

Thomas did not have long to wait before he saw George once again. What Thomas saw when George did make an appearance made him look twice just to make sure he was looking at the man he now considered something of a friend; albeit a silent one.

George appeared to be almost naked as he walked like a cat towards the hatch cover; his two weapons in his hands and the young black boy close on his heels. The boy was wearing what looked like a strip of cloth taken from a roll of sailcloth; it was secured around the boy’s waist with a thin cord and Thomas saw that the boy was never more than a half step from George’s side.

It was not the boy that had caught Thomas’s attention however but more the fact that George was showing some hitherto unseen tattoos. These tattoos were on his thighs and covered most of his hips, the paleness of his skin which had been hidden from the sun by his normal English style clothes seemed incongruous to the rest of his tawny colouring. The rest of George’s clothing, if it could be called such, consisted of a strange reed skirt that rattled lightly as he moved.

Around the bottom of the strange skirt were bands of black in a striped pattern and the waist band was quite wide and made of red, black and yellow colours in a zigzag pattern. The whole of George’s appearance was finished off with two long white feathers with black tips that were fitted into the neatly made top knot of his slightly greying hair; around Georges forehead and holding his hair in place was a narrow woven band.

Seeing George dressed as he was left Thomas with a feeling of primal strength and a certain touch of savagery. Thomas waited until George was close to where he stood before calling out to the large man.

“George! Can we talk before you do your training?”

George looked up to where Thomas stood and gave a small nod then stopped to wait for Thomas to step down from the quarterdeck. When he was before George, Thomas asked the patiently waiting man.

“George I was wondering if you could try to speak with the ex-slaves or at least find a way we could communicate with them. I think the young man on the stool is some sort of leader for them and we really need to find out where we can set them ashore so they can make their way back to their homelands.”

George looked at Thomas for a short while before nodding his head and then reaching out to tap the young boy on the shoulder and making some signs with his hand. The boy smiled at the large man and took off back towards where they had just come from. It was no more than two minutes before the boy came running back with something in his hands. It did not take Thomas long to recognise a small slate tablet that was used in schools; the boy gave it and a piece of white chalk to George then stepped back to stand just behind the big man.

George began to write in what Thomas recognised as a very good hand; something he never knew the large man was capable of. When he had finished George gave the slate tablet to Thomas and then handed over the lump of white chalk. Thomas read the short sentence on the slate.

“Do not take to Luanda. Must go north. Boy will ask where.”

“Thank you George. How are you able to talk with the boy?”

George took back the tablet and started writing again. Once finished he gave the tablet back to Thomas.

“Signs and easy words. Boy is quick learner.”

“Then I would ask you to thank him for us; now all we have to do is get more information from the others. Do you think you can accomplish that for us?”

George nodded his head after rubbing the boys head with his hand in a gesture of affection and appreciation. The small boy looked up at George as though he was some sort of god figure but the wide open smile said far more than words could have conveyed.

George took back the slate and cleaned it off with his other hand; once done he pushed the large green stone club into the back of his waist band and took up his short wooden spear with the other. With a nod of his head he indicated for the boy to follow him as he began to walk towards where the ex-slaves were sitting; it was obvious they had been watching every move that George and the boy made but as yet had given no indication they were worried by anything.

Thomas returned to the quarterdeck and then turned to watch what George would do. It seemed for a moment that the whole ship fell silent and the light flapping of a few sails and the creaking of the halyards was the only sound to be heard. This was to be a defining moment and what happened next would dictate where they would set their course next.

Thomas watched as the unlikely pair moved closer to the ex-slaves. It became very obvious the small boy was not happy to be so close to the others and almost seemed to be in some distress as they drew closer. George seemed to notice the angst in the small boy and stopped before he got too close; turning to the boy he took up the slate and began to draw a picture.

From his position on the quarterdeck Thomas could not see what was drawn but he could see that the boy was now very disturbed as he took the slate from George and began to make his own drawing. When the boy had finished he gave the slate back to George and looked up at the large man with begging eyes. George looked at the slate then turned and looked at the ex-slaves before reaching out and pulling the small boy even closer than before.

With the small boy almost a part of himself, George moved towards the group once again but this time he had placed his own body squarely between them and his small charge. His wooden short spear was now carried in a position that Thomas supposed was at the ready.

When it happened it was almost too fast for Thomas to see but the end result was even more swift and could easily have ended in bloodshed had not George been as well versed with his weapons as he was.

When George and the boy were no more than five steps from the seated ex-slaves, one of the younger of them jumped to his feet with what appeared to be a belaying pin from the ships gunnel. His intended target was plainly obvious as the small boy let a scream break from his lips as he tried to hide his small body even more behind that larger body of George.

The attacker was only a single step from the pair when George went into startling action. His moves were so fast and precise the attacker had little to no chance to react and found himself splayed on his back on the deck with the flat blade end of George’s spear pressing down on his throat with George’s left hand while in the big man’s right hand was the green stone club which was raised in such a manner that it could be lowered with swift effect to kill the younger attacker with a single stroke.

Thomas watched with bated breath as George stood silently and as still as a statue, the imminent threat plainly in his stance as he looked not at the young teen on the deck but directly at the group of surprised men in the shade. George’s implication was plain to understand; they would call a truce or George would finish what the young teen had started. Thomas saw that the small boy had a solid grip on the back of George’s strange reed skirt.

The standoff seemed to last forever before Thomas saw the faintest of nods from the young man seated on the stool and then watched as George made it plain to the young teen on the deck not to do anything foolish. Once his silent message had been made, George pulled back his spear and replaced his club in the back of his waist band. With a gentle pull he had the small boy once again standing beside him while he watched the chastised attacker make his way self-consciously back to his place and sit behind the older men who sat around the young man on the stool.

Unlike the men around the seated one, George did not sit or even hint that he was about to; his opinion was of a man who deserved to be seen as an equal if not even a superior. From where he stood above the others, George seemed to make it plain he was not there to be a servant to any of them.

George took his slate and began to draw something on it before showing it to the small boy; the boy looked up at George and then; with a look of apprehension on his young face, began to speak in his own language to the seated men. At the end of his short speech, the boy waited for a reply. It did not take long before the young man seated on the stool began to speak after he had taken note of some whispered words from those around him.

The ship had returned to its normal duties once the shock of a surprise attack had worn off the crew and Thomas now stood watching the proceedings going on below where he stood on the quarterdeck.

It seemed that those seated would say something and then the small boy would draw pictures for George to look at and then the opposite would happen with George drawing the pictures and the boy relating his wishes. The process took some time but it was an interesting situation to watch for Thomas as he stood silently and took notice of every movement or facial expression by those below him.

A good ten minutes had passed before the young man on the stool also stood and indicated with one hand that he and George should sit together at the same level on the top of the hatch cover; it was plainly obvious to anyone watching that the young man now considered George to be his equal in status and they could now talk on an equal footing.

Thomas took note that the small boy was still standing very close to George and was making sure he had the large man between him and the other ex-slave; Thomas thought he would have to find out what it was all about once George rejoined him after the talks. The discussion went on for some time and Thomas was surprised that more than two hours had passed before he saw the two men stand once again and part ways after a strange hand shake between them.

During the discussions there had been many gestures and a lot of use of the slate but it appeared that they had finally come to an end of the talks and each had what they wanted; it was now time to find out the results of the talks as George and his little friend broke away and walked towards where Thomas stood above them.

Again it took a good half an hour to translate with both the slate and the secret sign language all that George had learned from his long meeting but Thomas now had the gist of most of the conversation that had transpired between the two men.

It transpired that the boy came from a tribe called the Kongo and they were the mortal enemies of the others who were from the Ldongo. When the two tribes met in battle, the winner would take any prisoners they could and sell them to the Portuguese in Luanda for slaves; this had been the main bone of contention between the boy and the others. Even though both were or had been slaves together, their old enmities still held sway when the chance was provided for them.

George went on to tell Thomas all that he had learned during the long discussion and they could now make a plan to set the ex-slaves ashore as close to their homeland as possible. George showed Thomas the rough map the young man had drawn on the slate and it was now up to Roger Scully to make sense of it in regards to the charts he had of the land to the east of where they sailed.

Thomas thanked George for his help and let the man go about his own business while he went to talk with Roger about what to do next. The day was waning and sunset was not far off before Thomas and Roger had finally made a decision on what should be done and where they could now set their course for the small fleet of three ships.

The plan they made meant they could put the others ashore close to their homeland within three days if their reading of the directions were as good as they hoped. While the charts Roger worked from did not show much in the way of detail of the land mass, it did have a good idea of the closer coastline and this gave them more hope of finding the area where the ex-slaves could go ashore.

Roger began to give orders to turn the ships to the east in an almost direct line towards the unseen coast. Once he had the coast in sight he would turn more south and look for the distinctive features described by the young man’s drawing on the slate. They would have to keep watch for the three distinctive mountains that had been drawn on the slate and they had been promised that they would be easily seen from the sea as long as the ships were close enough inshore and the lookouts were alert.

For the last day and a half the ship had been sailing within sight of the coast on a southerly course; the early morning sea mist had just broken up under the heat of the rising sun when the lookout in the crowsnest called to the deck below.

“Ahoy the deck!”

Roger Scully looked up into the heights of the mast and called out loudly so he could be plainly heard by the lookout.

“What do you see?”

“Three mountains inland Sir, I think they are the ones we are searching for.”

“Keep your watch and we shall steer closer.”

Roger gave the orders to draw in closer to the coast and it was not long before the men on the quarterdeck with the aid of their large spy glasses could see three distinctive mountains far inland from where they sailed. Thomas looked at the unfriendly coast now so close as to almost tower over the high masts of the three ships; there was no place here to land a boat so they would have to keep heading south until they saw a beach where the boats could land and off load the ex-slaves.

An hour before the middle of the day; Roger’s lookouts saw a likely beach and the ships began to move in closer very slowly. Each ship had a man up in the bow with a lead line to measure the depth of water and call it back to the quarterdeck as they grew closer to the flat beach. At about four hundred yards the man on the line called that they had only five fathoms under them; it was time to drop anchor and begin to set their passengers ashore.

After some discussion it was also decided to look for a fresh water source while the boats were ashore. There was little thought to also have the chance to hunt for fresh meat if the chance arose and the ships were safe for now this close inshore from any observers. Thomas could already tell that their passengers knew where they were by their animation as they looked along the coastal waters. It was time to make plans for off-loading them and sending them back to their home. It was time to call on the language talent of George once more.

Thomas could see that the onetime slaves were far more animated and excited now they could see their homeland. There was now only the landing to take place and it would take George and his special talent to get the ex-slaves organised. They were going to use only one longboat and this would mean that only six of their passengers could be landed at any one time.

Thomas called for George once more and began to explain what they wanted from him. George gave little indication as to what he was thinking but a short nod to the ever present young boy and the two made their way towards the waiting group. The boy was again carrying the slate in his hand and also made sure that George was always between him and the others.

While the ship was secured and the anchor well set, George was once again sitting on the hatch cover with the young man Thomas suspected of being an important member of his tribe. Again it took some time for the translations to be made and the short list of questions Roger had made for George to ask to be fulfilled. By the time the discussion was over and George had gathered all that he could, a full hour had passed and the first rays of the dying sun were turning orange on the horizon.

George and the boy came up to where Thomas and Roger were watching from just below the quarterdeck. George took the slate and began to write in his almost perfect script. As Roger read what was on the slate George completed his conversation with the silent spy language so that all the points were eventually covered and the final plans could be made.

From the slate and signs, Thomas and Roger saw that the young man who’s name they still did not have, had asked that only two of his young men be put ashore so they could run to the main village of the tribe while he and the others would go ashore the next day and help some of the ships men to find clean water and help in a hunt for fresh meat. The young man seemed to think the two runners would make his home village within two days and then return with help for the others within another three.

Roger said he was glad of a short break while they awaited the return of the runners and was happy to follow George’s suggestion, especially as there was a possibility of fresh meat for the crews of all three ships. Roger Scully called for six of the crew to ready the longboat while another of the crew found two bottles to fill with water; which is what the young man had asked for as well as a cloth bag of hard tack biscuits from the cook’s store.

Thomas watched as the young ex-slave talked to two of the mid teen boys in his group, giving both a bottle of water and one of them the cloth bag with the hard tack. The young man said a few more words then indicated they should go over the side and climb into the waiting longboat. The two teens went over the side with an ease that told they had regained much of their strength while the ship had been underway after their salvation from the starvation of the slave ship.

A half hour later and the longboat had returned to the ship while on the beach Thomas could see the two young teens look around for a few minutes, and after a short discussion, set off and what appeared to quite a fast pace inland. Their footsteps on the beach the only disturbance Thomas could see in the pristine white sand.

The next morning was the beginning of the offload of the remaining passengers. All went smoothly and after only five trips back and forth to the beach, all were ashore as well as a number of Roger’s crew who were going to look for a fresh water source. George had also gone ashore once again followed closely by the small boy and there he began to once again use their strange way of conversing to get information.

Thomas decided he could also do with some time on solid ground and went with Lorenco and six of his men in the longboat to shore. Once there he took note of George, who was once again dressed in his strange garb and was communicating with the ex-slaves.

After a short time George turned and walked to where Thomas stood watching. Using their sign language, George related to Thomas that the young man had made the offer to let some of his men take them hunting for game meat. Thomas looked around and came to the conclusion there was only one group that could be of use for that task, Lorenco and his few sharpshooters.

Thomas nodded his agreement and called for Lorenco. After talking it over with Lorenco they both agreed that it would be good for everyone to have some fresh meat after the rations of salt pork and beef aboard ship. The only problem Thomas could see was one of communication with the ex-slaves. He need not have worried as George pointed out that they would only have to follow the men assigned to them and shoot what the men pointed out.

Within an hour there were three parties of hunters made up. Lorenco and two others were joined by three of the ex-slaves, the other two parties being made up the same and in ten minutes the three parties left the beach with their escorts. Thomas took note that the young man had once again taken to sitting on his strange stool while the others were busy with other things.

The women had gone off and were seen gathering drift wood for a fire while the remainder of the older men sat close to the young one on the stool and talked quietly amongst themselves. As Thomas stood alone he saw that a number of the boat crews had taken out wooden water barrels from the longboats and lined them up on the upper side of the beach. They now had to decide where to look for water.

Once again it was left to George to talk with the ex-slaves and find out if a water supply was close or if they would have to take to the hinterland to find a source. With many gestures and nodding of heads, George soon had one of the younger men walk with him to where the boat crews sat in the shade of a large tree. Thomas wandered over in their direction and was just in time to see George make a drinking motion and then point to the north end of the beach which was a good half mile away. Thomas decided to make it easier on everyone and joined the silent conversation.

After using their sign language, Thomas told the crewmen that the young ex-slave would take them down the beach to where a fresh water stream ran out to the sea from under the cliffs. Thomas tried as best he could to hold back the smile that was trying to force its way through when he saw the look on the crewmen’s faces. It was going to be a long way to carry full casks of water back to the boats and also very awkward in the soft white sand.

Thomas looked around for a short while and then made a suggestion to the Bosun in charge of the landing party.

“Bosun, why don’t you just take the boats as close to the far end as you can then fill the barrels? It will mean far less walking and make it easier on the men in this heat.”

“Thank you Sir; never would of thought of that meself.”

Thomas smiled and nodded as he watched the Bosun call the men to the task. The empty barrels were reloaded on the longboat and the men pushed it back into the gentle water and began to row for the far end of the beach with the young ex-slave in the bow to guide them.

Thomas took his place under the large tree where the shade took away some of the heat of the day. He was well used to the heat of Portugal and Spain but here it seemed as though he was standing directly in a fire box. Thomas rested his musket against the tree and, after removing his black hat, wiped his forehead and looked around. He was just in time to catch the eye of the young man seated on the stool.

The gesture from the young man was unmistakable, he was inviting Thomas to go and talk with him. Thomas looked around for George but he could not see the older man anywhere. Where he had gone was anybodies idea but he was not available to translate for Thomas.

Thomas shrugged his shoulders, reached down for his musket and began to make his way towards the small group of men who were sitting under another tree up on the dry sand above the high tide mark. Some of the women were still busy gathering firewood which they were stacking close to where the men sat while others were rummaging around in the trees close to the open spaces behind the beach. It appeared the women were expected to work at all times while the men sat in the shade. Thomas wondered if the English men would get away unscathed by such actions towards their own women.

As Thomas approached the group, one of their number rose and walked a short way along the beach where he picked up a midsized log of driftwood and returned to place it opposite the young man on the stool. It would place the two of them at the same height which Thomas assumed was a sign the young man acknowledged Thomas’s standing.

Thomas sat on the log and laid the musket by his side as the young man watched him intently. Thomas was at a loss as to how the two would communicate until he saw the young man point a finger to his own chest and then slowly say a word. The young man then pointed to Thomas and it took little for Thomas to understand the young man was giving his name and was asking for Thomas’s in return.

“Nkoma.”

Thomas pointed to himself and said.

“Thomas.”

The young man Nkoma nodded his head and then proceeded to practice saying Thomas’s name a few times until he had it almost right. At the same time Thomas was trying out the new name he had been given by the young man. After a few tries to make sure they both had a close proximity to the right pronunciation, Thomas got quite a surprise when Nkoma said in broken Portuguese.

“You save many, it is good. Many man lives belong you.”

Thomas was quite taken aback by the broken Portuguese but knew he had to make some sort of reply and so he spoke slowly in the hope Nkoma would understand him.

“It was the honourable thing to do; no man should be a slave.” Thomas watched as Nkoma digested what he had said and then seemed to be searching for the right words to reply. After a few more seconds thought, Nkoma spoke again but this time in his own language and to the men around him. After a short while and with the ascent of the others, Nkoma turned back to Thomas and spoke again while pointing off in the distance somewhere.

“Boy…Kongo…me Ldongo…fight…die long time…boy bad.”

“Boy was a slave the same as you. He is now under our protection.”

Thomas watched as Nkoma tried to understand what he was being told. After a short time he just nodded his head and turned to the other men and spoke to them in their rapid fire language before turning back to Thomas and nodding his head in what Thomas hoped was a final agreement about the boy’s future. Thomas decided to try to get off the subject and so asked again in his slowed down version of Portuguese.

“Where did you learn Portuguese language?”

Nkoma sat for a while as he worked out what Thomas was saying and how to answer him before smiling openly as though very proud of some accomplishment.

“Slave…Luanda…long time…must learn.”

“How long in Luanda?”

Thomas watched as Nkoma thought about what he had been asked, finally he gestured towards the sun and then moved his hand from the east to the west. Thomas could only interpret that as being a single day. As he watched Nkoma and the young man saw that Thomas understood what he was trying to say, Nkoma closed his fists and rapped them together six times. Confused Thomas lifted an eyebrow to indicate he did not understand.

Nkoma stopped for a short time and then smiled as he made the same gesture of the sun moving across the sky and then closing the small finger on his right hand. He then made the gesture again and closed the next finger. Suddenly Thomas caught on. Nkoma was making the sign that he had been in captivity for sixty days, his closed fists representing ten days and each time he rapped them together was another ten days.

Thomas looked up and smiled to indicate he now understood what Nkoma was trying to say. Nkoma then turned to one of the others beside him and spoke rapidly. The man bowed his head slightly, took up a bottle they had been using to drink from and took off at a run for the far end of the beach where Thomas could see the boatmen stacking barrels of fresh water back into the longboat.

The small group sat silently as they watched the other man run at speed. Thomas wondered if it was a test for him as no one spoke but instead just sat and watched Thomas with a keen interest. Thomas thought better of speaking again and sat in silence; he would let Nkoma speak first if there was more to say.

Nothing further was said until the man arrived back with the bottle full of fresh water. Handing it to Nkoma the man then sat to the rear as he was still puffing slightly from his fast run. Nkoma turned to Thomas and offered the bottle to him first. There was a sudden murmur from the other men present so Thomas thought that he must be being given a special honour. Not wanting to make an issue out of the gesture, Thomas took the bottle, lifted it slightly in a silent salute to Nkoma and then gave it back without drinking from it.

The murmuring grew slightly as Thomas watched Nkoma take the bottle with a broad and open smile and take a sip from it before giving it back into Thomas’s hand. Thomas then took a sip and offered the bottle back and watched as Nkoma gave the bottle to one of the men who then stood up and took the bottle to a nearby rock where he suddenly dashed it down strongly and shattered it into unusable pieces.

Thomas did not understand what had happened but somehow he managed to grasp that he had just been given a special honour. It would be some time later when he found out the full extent of the honour given him. Nkoma began to speak in his broken Portuguese once more.

“Toma is great warrior…yes?”

Thomas felt the blush fill his face as he lowered his eyes a little at what Nkoma seemed to have guessed but as Thomas was not one to seek accolades and decided to reply with a little deference in his voice.

“I have seen battle, yes but I don’t think I am a great warrior. I have only done my duty.”

“D…du…du…ty…what is du…ty?”

Now Thomas had a quandary, how did you explain duty to a man who did not seem to understand the idea of the word or the concept. Thomas sat for a while in silence as he tried to work out what to reply and also noticed that all the other men stayed silent and gave him all the time he would need to reply to Nkoma’s request for an answer.

After some time for thought, Thomas decided to try to interpret the concept of duty.

“A man of high birth, such as a King can offer a gift for you to finish a task. If you accept his gift or payment then it is your duty to obey his commands or die trying to fulfil your task.”

Thomas watched as Nkoma worked his way through the words and the idea. After a long time to consider what Thomas had said he replied after pointing to one of the men.

“So I tell this man…go fight…die for me…then he must do the duty?”

Thomas thought over what Nkoma had said. The idea was in some ways right but not fully correct so Thomas decided to not make it a long drawn out discussion and instead nodded as he spoke.

“Yes it is very much like that if you were a king and he was one of your men who promised to defend your life.”

“Ahh…yes that is truth…I am son of Chief…all must obey me.”

Thomas nodded his head that he understood the slowly pronounced words and the idea that Nkoma was a man of importance in his tribe. At last he now had verification of Nkoma’s position in regards to the others in his small group and why he had been watched over by all the others. Nkoma spoke again.

“In five sun…father come…Kumkani of all Ldongo.”

While Nkoma did not use the word ‘five’ he made the gesture to indicate the movement of the sun and closed his right hand into a fist so that Thomas knew what he was saying. Thomas decided to try to make it easier on Nkoma. With the same gesture of the sun moving across the sky; Thomas said the word.

“Day.”

Nkoma repeated what he thought he had heard.

“Da.”

Thomas was not going to try to educate Nkoma on the correct pronunciation but left it as said and just nodded his head in agreement. They had now been talking for some time and the heat of the day had passed almost unnoticed by those sitting under the large shady tree. It was a sudden disturbance further down the beach that made them all look up in that direction as one of the trackers appeared and began to call in a strange high pitched voice that was more like a ululation than words.

The women had long finished finding the wood needed for a fire and all suddenly stood up and began the same cry as the rest of the group of hunters began to appear from the trees bordering the beach. The rest of the hunters filed down onto the beach with their catch. All three bands had been successful, Lorenco’s men had two large horned beasts and the other two bands had one more each, although all the beasts were of a different species.

The largest of the beasts was an animal that took four men to carry slung between two poles while the others took only two men and a single pole. It appeared as though they would not need fresh meat for some time as the three bands struggled to carry their burdens over the loose sand. Thomas watched as Nkoma went into action and began to give orders left right and centre to the men gathered around him. The women instantly began to pile the wood ready for a large fire while the men looked to the men approaching them from along the beach.

Although Thomas had not seen it, the men had been busy during the heat of the day making what appeared to be fibre ropes. Once the four beasts had been placed on the sand but well in the shade of the large tree, Nkoma began to give more orders. It was plain for Thomas to see that the hunters had already gutted out the carcasses and now there was only the actual dressing to be done.

Nkoma walked over to Thomas and gave him an inquiring look as he mimed the act of cutting his hand and then pointing to Thomas as though he was asking for a knife or if he had one. Thomas was not quite sure which. Thomas looked at Nkoma and then pulled back one of his sleeves and removed the thin knife. The knife was not only a fighting tool but also a symbol to all the men who had been a part of Thomas’s Guerrillas. Thomas only hoped he would get his special knife back once Nkoma was finished with it.

Immediately Nkoma looked at the knife with something akin to awe as he saw how good the knife was made and how sharp the leading edge was. Nkoma made the mistake of running his finger along the blade which took only the first touch to draw his blood. Nkoma looked at the cut on his finger then at Thomas with broad smile on his dark face as he nodded his head in appreciation.

Nkoma then pointed to five of his men and indicated he would like them to also have a knife each from Thomas’s men and then pointed to the four beast which were even now begin pulled up onto a high branch by all the others. Nkoma made gestures to indicate to Thomas that he wished to remove the hides in one piece for later use and then dress the meat out for eating. Thomas called the men of his old command and asked them to hand over their boot knives for Nkoma’s men to use while they themselves went to wash and cool off after their hunting.

Thomas was surprised to watch how efficient Nkoma’s men were in preparing and skinning the beasts. Within an hour the hides had been removed, the women had then taken over and were working on the hides with what appeared to be sea shells and stone flints while the men set to work carving up the meat of one of the smaller animals. The other three larger ones were being carried down to the long boat to be taken out to the three waiting ships.

With the butchering done and the large cooking fire now well alight and nicely forming a good pile of hot coals Thomas sat in the last of the day’s shade and watched as each of Nkoma’s men as well as he himself, carefully took the bloody knives along the beach to the fresh water stream where they seemed to spend a long time in making sure the knives were spotlessly clean and dry before returning them to their owners.

Nkoma came over to Thomas and even though he tried to look casual about giving the knife back to its real owner, Thomas could see the look of longing in the young man’s eyes. On a whim, Thomas replaced his knife in his sleeve sheath but then held up his hand to stop Nkoma from going back to watch-over the cooking of the meat. When Nkoma stopped Thomas undid the buttons on his right shirt sleeve and pushed it up his arm to reveal the other of his hidden knives.

With careful movements Thomas released the two buckles that held the knife to his forearm and then turned to Nkoma and indicated it was a present for him from Thomas for providing meat for the men and ships. Nkoma carefully took the thinner stiletto blade with what Thomas could only interpret as gratitude although the wide staring eyes and open mouth could have been taken in any way.

With great care Nkoma followed suit as he tried to tie the knife scabbard on his own arm like he had seen on Thomas but his lack of skill with buckles soon had Thomas doing it all for him although he did place it on Nkoma’s left arm as he had seen the young man use mainly his right hand.

With the scabbard in place on his left forearm, Nkoma then drew out the thinner blade. Thomas doubted Nkoma had ever seen fine Toledo steel before as the young man’s eyes spied the bright gleam of the blade. Thomas was not sure but he thought he detected a faint hint of a tear in the young man’s eye just before Nkoma turned away and slowly walked back to where the women were watching over the cooking meat. Thomas heard a sound just to his left and turned around to see Lorenco arriving to sit with him while they watched the first darkness arrive.

“A kind gesture Patron. I only hope it is not used to cut your hair a little closer as we sleep.”

Thomas chuckled at the comment before he replied, “I think, my dear friend that we have all well passed that point. So did you enjoy your hunting experience?”

“Patron, in all truth I saw things today that I thought were impossible until I spied them with my own eyes. This is a vast land, a man could walk for more than a year and not see another human and the animals are something from another world.”

“Then my friend, I wait with anticipation for your story but first I think I have something to ask Captain Scully to do if it is at all possible.”

TBC

You are reading Book 3 of Thomas Markings incredible journey. Let Arthur know what you think of this latest chapter. Arthur at CastleRoland dot Net