Published: 3 Sep 2020

In a large drawing room, of an ancient Manor house, on a shrinking estate there stood a boy. He did not own the estate, nor did he even own the clothes he wore. When it came down to it, he did not even own himself. The boy was a servant, bought and paid for, essentially a slave; and a very unhappy slave at that. His name was Charles, although no one knew it but him. To everyone else he was just Boy.

For five years he served the Wycroft family and had grown from a frightened diminutive ten-year-old, to a thin but pleasant looking teenager. His blond hair was cut just above his collar and looked as if it had been chopped off by someone in a hurry with dull scissors, which in fact, it had. His clothing was also worn and threadbare and his tight shoes had created blisters on his tender feet.

While he kept his clothing and appearance as clean and neat as he could, he received little help from his owners. The Wycrofts saw little benefit in providing luxuries for someone of his class, a menial worker. After all, the boy’s father had been a criminal, a part of that class that contributed nothing to society; leeches, sucking the lifeblood of the nobility. In their unwavering and ignorant opinion, the child should be happy to have been rescued from that squalid debtor’s prison. For years now, they had been feeding him, housing him, and teaching him skills that would see him through his life, even if that life were one of servitude.

Charles was not the only part of the estate that was neglected by the Wycrofts. Their station in society had become greatly and steadily reduced over the past decade, due largely to sprees of gambling and drinking. It seemed that no one in the family had the knack of winning at cards and they were too foolish to stop trying. Their ill-advised betting was the source of mirth among the neighboring families who mocked them behind their backs while continuing to invite them to the tables.

Now, no one came to the Wycroft estate, because the family had stopped sending out invitations. The once handsome Manor was falling rapidly into disrepair, due to their lack of funds. The first cutbacks that Baron Wycroft made was to the staff, releasing most of the maids and the footmen. Then the gardeners and other grounds workers were dismissed one by one until the burden of labor became too great for the remaining workers to bear. They deserted the estate and left it to die. Now weeds grew where flowers once thrived, and the fruit trees remained unpruned. As silver will tarnish with neglect so the house itself began to turn black as lichens grew over the stones. Not only the exterior of the grand manor, but the interior as well began to decay. Tapestries, musty with mildew, sagged on the walls, and dust covered much of the furniture and paintings. With only one maid, a village girl, to tend to its upkeep the house suffered visibly. There was a surly old cook who no longer cared enough to produce the delicious meals of the past. She pocketed much of the money allotted for groceries and served the family inferior meals with cheaper cuts of meat, and if they complained she threatened to quit.

It had fallen to Charles to perform the duties of Butler, Footman, Valet, and general menial. He arose early in the mornings and sometimes fell into bed exhausted from constantly answering each of the incessant bells. Other rare times he found ways to escape the notice of his masters so that he could have a few hours to himself.

The Wycroft family consisted of Baron Wycroft, a tall man of fifty, who was once considered handsome, but was now showing the results of an idle life, a growing paunch and puffy face. Still, he was conceited and proud.

His wife, Lady Wycroft, was ten years younger than her husband and much less attractive than he. Her dowry had been her most attractive feature and had bought her a husband and a title. That money was long ago squandered, and now she was a bitter and waspish woman, with a shrill voice, that seemed to know only one word, Boy.

There were two sons, Cedric, a lazy lad of seventeen years and Victor, twenty, who was three years lazier than his brother. Victor possessed an often-cruel humor and when bored he sought out Charles in order to make him the victim of some prank or another.

The most pernicious member of the family was the daughter, Violette. At fourteen, she was given to fits of anger at her family and her life in general. Her screaming tantrums could be heard throughout the manor several times each day. She had inherited her mother’s lack of beauty. Now, being denied an allowance for new gowns and without even a single maid to help her, she cursed her parents and spread her misery as thoroughly as possible.

This is a picture of the unhappy world that had swallowed up young Charles, and yet he somehow managed not to become bitter himself. Instead he was fortunate to be the recipient of intellectual genes, not those of an inbred nobility. Charles Senior, his unlucky father, had been a professor at a university, a generous and kind man who once made the mistake of trusting a stranger. As a result of that trust he found himself deeply in debt and confined to a debtor’s prison, along with his young son. The mother had died of influenza a few years earlier, so it was left to the professor to raise his son.

Young Charles began his life being educated at home where there were many books about science, the arts, and philosophy. He had a keen mind and learned to read by the time he was five. His father engaged him in adult conversations, stoking the fires of curiosity and imagination in his young brain, at least until the time of his arrest and their subsequent incarceration.

The father despaired that he had brought his boy to such a low situation and prayed for someone to rescue him. Unfortunately, that someone was the Baron, seeking a cheap servant, and Charles was given over to his care with the promise that he would be housed, fed, and cared for. Charles soon learned the truth, but never told his father of his true situation. He did not wish to cause his father more sorrow, but also, he had made a discovery at the manor house. There was a great library that was largely disregarded by the family. The shelves were filled to the ceiling with volumes about all sorts of things from Art to Zoology. While the family saw little value in the books, Charles viewed them as a treasure and found ways to sneak away to explore and investigate and absorb their knowledge. Sneaking books to his room helped to make up for his shoddy treatment.

“Boy!” shouted the corpulent man. “Where’s my tea?”

“Where is that awful boy?” cried the woman, vigorously ringing a small bell.

Charles entered the parlor pushing a cart filled with the tea things. He silently served them using the old china. Their best china had been sold off months earlier and each time the wife saw the inferior service, she puckered her mouth even more tightly to show her disapproval. Charles had learned long ago to say nothing, because any comments, could lead to verbal or even physical abuse. More than once he had felt the sting of the woman’s hand on his cheek. He went about his work silently, rarely speaking to anyone in the house, and as a result they all began to consider him dense and slow witted. He gladly played that part.

On the tea cart was a small stack of letters that had been delivered by the post a few minutes earlier. The baron tried to ignore them, knowing fully that they were only requests for payment from some of the local merchants. When Charles placed them on the low table before him, he sighed and began to sort through them.

“What’s this?” the baron exclaimed. “What’s this? Why, it’s a letter from my brother Eustace.”

“Eustace? Why, we haven’t heard from him in years. Not since he left for that place, what’s it called, Jamaica or something. I thought he was dead or destitute,” his wife commented, her voice tinged with curiosity. “What does he say?”

“My Word! It’s good news, my Dear. Wonderful news, in fact. Eustace has been successful with his sugar plantation. He is a wealthy man and now he wishes to reach out to his family, to assist us. Someone told him of our misfortune, and he is offering his hand in friendship. He says that he is ready to forgive past transgressions (although I should be the one who forgives him, humph, really now) and he would like for us to come and see him.”

“What? Come to that wretched island? Take a sea voyage to be among savages and leave our friends? It’s out of the question.”

“Think about it. We could take a break from our woes here and once again be treated as we are accustomed to being treated. Egad, I would love to taste a proper Claret once more. If we show sufficient gratitude to Eustace, he may be kind enough to relieve our debts. I say we must go, we really must,” the Baron said, dreaming of a future filled with delectable food and wine.”

His wife paused in her protestations and began to envision herself in fine new clothes with plenty of servants to order about.

The younger Wycrofts sat with their mouths agape, listening to their parents’ new plan.

“What? You want to just go off, just like that? But what about us?” demanded Victor. “What on earth would we find to amuse ourselves in such a horrid place?”

Violette burst into tears and screamed, “I won’t go. I won’t.” She smashed her teacup to the floor and ran from the room sobbing.

Cedric stood and said, “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Father. It will be an adventure. What a joy it will be to leave this cold and damp country for a land of sun and palm trees.” In reality he was thinking about how fine it would be to leave school.

Charles stood on the other side of the parlor door, listening. He had barely escaped being battered by the door when Violette stormed out. He was filled with conflicting emotions and thoughts. Would they take him along on the voyage, and did he wish to go? Although he seldom saw his father now, could he bring himself to leave him behind? Perhaps in a new land he could figure out a way to earn money and save his father, but what did he even know about places like that? With his heart racing with excitement, Charles softly eased into the library and began to search for information.

In the vast waters of the Atlantic Ocean there are still areas that remain unexplored by sailors. Hundreds of miles into this unknown region there lay a small island that was actually the very tip of an undersea mountain. While very little of the mountain protruded above the surface the greater part remained hidden below, and on that underwater mountain there sat a ledge of rock that was the size of the city of London. The soil and sand beneath the immense slab of rock had been slowly eroding for thousands of years so that now it teetered precariously over a bottomless trench in the ocean floor. With each passing day the eventual fall of this stone grew nearer. No one knew of this impending event, or of the consequence of such a fall. Not the ships that passed above it nor the small creatures that swam, slithered and sidled across its surface.

Preparations for the journey took months. Eustace had provided the funds for the family’s travel expenses and they booked passage on a large schooner rather than a more commodious vessel, having squandered much of their funds on clothing. As it turned out, Charles was the only servant who accompanied them. The rest were unwilling to trust their lives to the sea, and Charles only agreed to come after the Baron allowed him one last visit to see his father. Their parting had been sorrowful but tinged with hope that someday soon they would be reunited in freedom.

The cabins on the ship were small and cramped. The three male Wycrofts took the one cabin and the mother and daughter secluded themselves in a smaller one. Charles was given a pallet in the cabin boy’s cramped quarters. Both women took to their beds and complained of one sickness after another, constantly demanding to be nursed by Charles. The little spare time that Charles had while the women slept, he spent questioning the crew about life on the tropical islands and on their ship. His curious mind quickly absorbed all sorts of new knowledge and as he watched the sailors tending to their duties, he quickly learned a great deal about sailing.

Cedric and Victor initially spent several days leaning over the sides of the boat, emptying their stomachs and looking extremely miserable. They cursed their father for his decision to take this trip and prayed loudly for it to be over.

The Baron was not feeling too well himself, but he was determined to display a noble countenance, so he strutted the decks and criticized his sons for their weakness. His heart was filled with the faith that his brother would take pity on him and restore him to his rightful place in noble society. He envisioned seeing the manor house refurbished, the paintings restored, and the grounds again returned to their former glory.

Charles had no problem at all with mal-de-mer and went about his servant duties without complaint. He tried to maintain a cheerful demeanor and, in seeing that it seemed to annoy the Wycrofts, he smiled as often as he could. The captain and the crew enjoyed his company and always had a cheerful word and a slap on the back for him. Their friendliness and goodwill made him begin to realize that he was more than just a worthless worm, as the family liked to call him. Charles began to feel good about himself for the first time in years.

They had been at sea for almost a week and were looking forward to making landfall, but things did not turn out as they had hoped.

Hundreds of miles away the sword of Damocles was beginning to descend. Slowly at first and then quite rapidly the surface of the ocean began to roil and churn as a mountain of solid rock broke through, rising to a height of hundreds of feet in the air it balanced for a couple of moments before falling forward. This was just the smaller part of the stone ledge. The much larger part was still below the surface, and as it slid down into the maw of the chasm that awaited it below the mammoth slab tipped forward. Like a child’s hand playfully splashing water on a sibling, so the ledge pushed a wall of water ahead of it. There was nothing playful about this splashing water. It was a mountain of ocean that stretched two miles across and was forty feet high. As it sped across the sea it grew, pushing the water in front of it into a wave that grew higher and wider. Moving at three hundred miles per hour the wall of water rushed at the tiny ship that lay in its path. There was no storm or wind to warn the captain and crew of the Schooner. The only warning came when the ship began to list and seemed to drop lower. It was a curious feeling and there was no time to prepare for the wave’s impact. One moment the men were going about their daily rituals when a lookout screamed and pointed. Most heads turned and saw a dark line across the horizon.

“What is it?” Charles asked anxiously to the old seaman beside him.

“It’s a wave, boy. A wave like I’ve never seen. By God, it’s our doom,” the old man said hoarsely, and spat. “Grab onto something, Sonny, and hold your breath.”

Charles saw two rings of cork, wrapped in canvas and tied with rope, the rings that were used to rescue men who had been swept overboard. He offered one to the old Salt, but the man refused.

“You hang on to them, boy. You’ll need ’em both. You pray for a miracle, but if I got to go see Davey Jones, well then, it’s past my time.” The old man smiled down at Charles and put one of the rings over his shoulders and down to his chest. He told him to hang onto the other with all his might.

Charles was terrified, and for once in many years, he did not give a single thought to the Wycrofts and their fate. Instead he held the man’s hand and waited, as the dark wall sped toward them. It was taller than the ship and blocked out the sky. The ship listed to port as it climbed sideways up the wave front, and then was entirely engulfed with water. Charles was thrown into the air and felt himself falling. Once he was in the water, he was tumbled and banged around, but he held fast to the cork rings and held his breath. His lungs were almost bursting, before he saw sunlight through the water far above him. With all of his might, desperate to live, he kicked his legs and soon his head popped into the air. He was so drenched that he couldn’t tell what was sea water running down his face and what were his own tears of relief.

Stunned and gasping for air, the boy tried to make sense of what had happened. Buoyed by the cork rings, he bobbed on the waves, rising up and down, seeing for a long distance when he was lifted and then losing that sight when he again fell. When he rose, the sight of the endless span of water filled him with despair, but when he was lower and could see only walls of water around him, he felt even worse. The immensity of his situation overwhelmed him finally, and Charles fainted. With his head resting on his arms he drifted unconscious in the boundless sea for hours.

The Wycroft family, harkening to the clamor on the decks, came out of their cabins in time to see the great wave rushing at them. With only minutes to spare the Captain gave each of the hysterical toffs a life jacket, one of the newer types, and told them to pray. Then he left them to their fate. Some of the crew members rushed around in a panic. A few tried to dispatch a lifeboat, but their efforts were fruitless. Because the ship was tightly built and yare it survived the first tumbling of the wave. Instead of being smashed to pieces it rolled over and over a few times before finally crumbling. Those souls who stood on the deck were quickly swept under it as the craft was carried away. Those who were below deck were bounced against the hull and timbers and quickly drowned or crushed by the shifting cargo.

The giant wave moved on with many smaller waves trailing behind it. Almost as quickly as it came, it was all over. Amazingly, due to their life jackets, the Wycroft family survived, but just barely. Violette sustained a cut to her forehead, which bled rather freely. Cedric had broken his arm and cried out in agony. Unfortunately, the family was separated by several yards of water. Around them were many of the crew members, some alive and others not so lucky. Most of the wreckage of the ship had been pushed on by the wave, but still, around them lay the loose items that had been on the deck; at least the items that could float. Men clutched at casks and crates, desperately clinging to life. Shattered pieces of wood littered the surface, so Lord Wycroft used one of these to paddle his way over to his wife, who could not stop crying. Lady Wycroft was so horrified that she was unable to speak and could only sob and wail. Still, the Baron managed to hold her from behind and slowly drag her to Victor, who himself was trying to rescue Cedric. The last to be reunited with the family was Violette. She looked pale and dreadful, with blood running down her face. Victor tore his shirt sleeve off and bandaged her wound, as the family clung to each other in despair and shock. Their life jackets kept them afloat, so the Baron had the good sense to tie themselves together with pieces of torn clothing. The water was warm enough and eventually they all fell silent. It was Violette who first began to pray, something that the family had failed to do for many years. The others, aware of their hopelessness, quickly joined her fervent pleas for mercy.

Sometime during the night, the poor men, who were relying on wooden casks and other flotsam to support them, began to fall asleep from exhaustion. Many of them slipped beneath the water and never came up. Others fell to a different horror; two large sharks came at them from below. Enticed by dangling legs, the great fish saw food waiting for them. A sailor was suddenly jerked beneath the water and quickly came back up, but the water around him turned crimson with blood from his severed leg. He screamed, but was then dragged down again, never to return. The Wycrofts were desperately clinging to each other, having drifted quite a way from the other survivors. They heard the screams and were horrified, wondering if they would survive the oncoming night.

Charles awoke to find someone shaking his shoulder and talking to him. He immediately opened his eyes and cried out in fear. To his relief, he realized that it was a fellow human who was trying to wake him, a surviving sailor.

“Are you alive, Lad? Are you injured?” the young man asked.

Charles shook his head to clear the fuzziness from his brain. He felt all right and answered, “Yes, Sir. I think I’m fine. Well, aside from being nearly drowned. Please Sir, is there any hope for us at all? I’m so afraid.”

“Aye, friend, we’re in a bad way, but there’s always hope. See, I was lucky enough to grab onto this broken spar, and I see you got you some lifesavers. That’s a fine way to stay afloat. But there’s better luck yet. Look over there at that dark shape. Know what that is?”

Charles looked where the man was pointing and saw that object. The water was much calmer now and stars were beginning to appear in the purple sky. “No, Sir. I don’t know what it is,” he said.

“That’s a lifeboat. It’s upside down but it’s floating. I don’t think it’s stove in. If we can get over to it, we might be able to right it. Can you swim, Lad?” the sailor asked in a kind voice.

“No, Sir. I never learned,” Charles answered sadly.

“Well, I’ve got a bad leg myself so it’s hard for me to get that far without help. If you will lend me the use of one of your cork floats, then we can both make our way over to it. Between the two of us we should be able to turn it over. It won’t be easy because the thing is heavy, but we have to try. Are you with me?”

Charles felt hope fill his heart and with it, came a sense of renewed strength. “I can do it, Sir,” he said with excitement, passing his new friend one of his floating rings. Together, they struggled desperately to reach their goal. The craft lay about fifty yards away and it took half an hour and two rest periods for them to get there. Once their hands touched the wooden hull, the two friends sagged in relief and clung to it tightly to rest.

The sea about them was still a bit choppy with swells so the sailor said, “Here’s what we have to do. Reach down to the gunnel, the edge of the boat, where the oarlock is. Now, when I say to, I want you to lift with all of your might and try to flip the boat. Now, we have to wait for the right moment, when a big swell is lifting with us. If we time it right, we should be able get it up and the wave will roll it over. Are you ready? Here we go.”

Charles was much stronger than he looked, due to a life of labor, and with the man’s expertise, they were able to tip the boat on the first try. It rolled right over, but was barely afloat, being filled three quarters of the way with water. It took a lot of bailing with their hands before they removed enough to allow the boy to climb in. Then he was able to fling water out with both hands, while the man clung to the side, bailing with his free hand. Eventually he was able to bring the sailor over the side and into a relatively dry place.

The night was well along before they stopped and slept. While still in a perilous place, Charles was content that at least he was not alone. Having a companion made him feel infinitely safer, so he slept well until morning.

Charles awoke hungry and he felt as if his skin was crusted with salt. Looking around he saw his new friend still asleep at the bow. Now that he was a bit rested, Charles looked more closely at his companion. The fellow was only a few years older than himself and was quite good-looking. His hair was dark and slightly long, and his physique, what could be seen through his damp clothing, seemed to be quite muscular.

There was still about a foot of water in the bottom of the boat, so Charles set about trying to dump it over the side using his hands. There was nothing else in the boat to assist him, but he did see that four large oars were lashed firmly beneath the thwarts.

The sailor stirred at last and said, “So, what’s your name, Lad?”

“Charles, Sir. But everyone just calls me Boy.”

“Boy? Humph, you work like a man, not a boy,” the sailor said with a smile. “Pleased to meet you, Charles. I’m Thomas Finch, an unfortunate man who decided to sign on as crew for our late, lamented ship in order to get passage to America. I might have known that I would be cast overboard in the middle of the Atlantic. What about you, Charles? Are you leaving your family back home? Are you getting more adventure than you hoped for?”

“Only my father, Sir. He’s the only family I have. The people I was travelling with are my masters, the Baron and his family. I’m just a servant, a boy.”

“Well, Charles, you certainly don’t sound like a typical servant. You sound educated, especially for one so young,” Thomas said, “and call me Thomas. Please.”

“Yes, my father was a professor and he began teaching me to read when I was four, Sir, err, I mean Thomas. The Wycrofts have a vast library which none of them use. I have never seen any of them open a book, so I slip volumes up to my room and read well into the night. I’ve learned ever so much from the books,” Charles told him.

“Bright lad. Self-educated, I like that. I’ve done a bit of studying myself and you know what I learned?” the man said as he lay back against the bow.

“What, Thomas?”

“Look up and tell me what you see.”

Turning his eyes upward, Charles could see a few dark specks against the gray morning sky. “It looks like birds,” he said.

“That’s right. And birds live on land. And that means that somewhere around here is land. I’ve been watching which way the birds are coming from and I would be willing to wager that they are coming from the south,” Thomas told him with a smile.

“And you can tell which way is south because the sun is rising over that way,” Charles said with excitement.

“Yes, Lad. Yes. So, what should we do next, Charles?”

“Oh, let us take up these oars and row in that direction, Thomas,” Charles almost shouted. The overpowering sense of despair and doom that had permeated his mind since the shipwreck was suddenly lightened and hope now appeared on his face in the form of a grin.

Thomas agreed and with laughter they unlashed the oars, and each fitted one to an oarlock. Then they set about their labor and headed for the unseen promise of safety. They rowed vigorously at first, but it was difficult to see if they were moving very far because there was only water around them and nothing by which to mark their progress. Soon tiring, they began to slacken their efforts and took many opportunities to rest.

During one rest period Charles looked out to the east and spied a dark blotch on the water. The sea was much calmer this day and the mist had burned off, so they could see quite far.

“Thomas, do you see that dark spot over there? I think it might be something from the wreck. It may even be a survivor,” he said.

“I see it now. You’re right. If it’s wreckage then it might prove useful, and if it is a person then we have a duty to investigate and, hopefully, rescue them. It isn’t too far so let us heave-to.”

Charles felt anticipation growing as they neared their goal. He hoped if it was a fellow human that floated on the water that they were alive. When they grew near enough to make out the identity of the object, he suddenly felt disappointment sour his previous smile, and replaced it with a frown, for the floating mass was none other than his masters, the Wycroft family.

Never had he seen such a bedraggled and pitiful sight as the once resplendent family who now clung to each other desperately. All five of them were unconscious and Charles could see the rags that tied them together, life vest to life vest, so that they did not drift apart.

“Are they dead?” asked Charles cautiously.

When they were close enough, Thomas reached over and touched Violeta’s neck. He felt her blood pulsing through her artery and said, “I think they are only asleep, probably from exhaustion and fear. Let me cut this tie and we can drag them into the boat. Here, stay over there to balance us while I pull the girl in.”

Thomas took hold of her life vest by the shoulders and let himself fall backwards into the boat, using his body’s mass as leverage and at the same time dragging the water-logged girl to safety. There was not much room left in the boat by the time all of the nobles were aboard. Lady Wycroft was the most difficult to drag out of the water because her many undergarments were heavy with sea water.

“I suppose we should try to rouse them,” said Thomas.

“Oh, no. Let’s not. Not just yet. You see, these are the Wycrofts, my masters, and if they are awake, they will only cause trouble. I like them much better when they are asleep. Let them wake up on their own and perhaps we will be in sight of land before I have to take orders from them again,” Charles pleaded earnestly.

Thomas laughed and said, “Then that’s what we shall do. Let the toffs sleep, but Charles, do not fear them. Things are different here at sea, and you and I are the captains of this vessel, modest as it is, and we are in command. I have this to enforce our claim.” He pulled a long and nasty looking knife from his belt and showed it to Charles. The young boy smiled.

One by one the sea soaked Wycrofts began to stir, with the exception of Cedric. Charles had seen the way the boy’s arm hung at an odd angle and knew that it was broken somewhere on the upper bone. A soft moan came from the lips of the Baron, and he raised his head and was the first to open his eyes. It took him a moment to focus and remember his situation. Soon his eyes fell upon Charles and he snarled, “What in the name of Christ is going on here, Boy? What have you done?”

Before Charles could reply Thomas spoke loudly and firmly, “What has he done? I will tell you, Sir, what he has done. Charles has rescued you and your family from certain death. He spotted you adrift, bound to one another, and bade me row to you so that we could pull all of you from the drink and prevent your drowning. I should think a more grateful tone of voice would be called for when speaking to your savior.”

The Baron scowled, unused to being addressed in such a tone, especially by a commoner. Before he could work out a retort, his wife began to waken. The loud admonition had penetrated her consciousness and she opened her eyes. A moment later Violette sat up and rubbed her arms as if they were aching. Victor was next. Soon, each of them had sat up and realized their situation and they began babbling questions that were mostly unanswerable by Charles at that time. Eventually they settled down enough to notice that Cedric was still asleep, so Lady Wycroft tried to shake him awake. She patted his cheek and called his name. Getting no response, her voice grew more loud and shrill with panic as her son lay immobile. The Baron placed his fingers on his son’s neck to feel for a pulse, but his face turned pale and a howl of dismay split the air.

“He’s dead!” the Baron cried. “My son is dead!”

A sense of doom and grief overtook the passengers of the tiny boat. While the family wept loudly, clutching the lifeless body of their son and sibling, Charles was happy at least that Cedric was not suffering. Had he been alive with his arm broken so severely he would surely be in agony, and they had neither the means nor ability to help him. Leaving them to their mourning, Thomas took up his oar and again rowed southward. Charles joined him in his effort.

The sun was high overhead and the Wycrofts sprawled in the stern, prostrate with grief, when Victor raised his head and pointed to the bow, asking, “What is that?”

Everyone looked and Charles saw in the distance a small bit of green land poking up above the horizon. Despite the thirst and hunger that plagued his body he found a new strength and increased his pace with the oars. His arms ached more than his back, but the bit of land grew steadily larger with each passing minute. Soon it became obvious that they were seeing the top of a hill, covered with trees. Finally, they saw a band of white that Thomas said was the island’s sandy beach. Sick at heart at their loss, but filled with hope for their anticipated landfall, the somber party sat silently as Charles and Thomas led the boat through the swells and breakers until they at last felt the lurch and crunch of sand under the keel. The boat had landed.

Slowly, with aching joints and limbs, the passengers climbed out onto the shore, thrilled beyond words at being once again on dry land. They cast themselves onto the warm sand and soaked in its restorative heat. For many minutes they lay inert until thirst and hunger drove them to rise and seek water to drink.

The Baron said, “Boy, go fetch water for us. And while you are at it, Boy, find some damn food. I am about to perish.”

His peevish wife added, “And be quick about it, Boy. Don’t just stand there.”

Violette and Victor gave him stern looks and by habit Charles moved to obey their orders. Thomas raised his hand and placed it on his friend’s chest, saying, “We will go and look for water and food, because that is the prime necessity at this time. Victor and Violette will also look. This island seems to be fairly large and we don’t know if it is inhabited so we should proceed with caution. Charles and I will explore in this direction and you can look over there.”

As one, the Wycrofts displayed looks of shock. “I don’t believe you understand to whom you are speaking, Sir,” said Victor. “Father is a Baron and I am his son. We do not take orders from our inferiors. We will bide here and rest while you bring the water to us.”

Thomas started to reply, but Charles stopped him with a touch. He said to Thomas, in a soft voice, “Let them lie there and thirst. We have nothing to carry water in and they will realize their mistake soon enough. Besides, there is Cedric’s body to deal with and I want no part of that.”

Thomas smiled and said to the baron, “Very well, we shall go and see what we can find. I suggest that you do something about your other son. The dead must be buried.”

Lady Wycroft and Violette uttered cries of dismay at his frank words while the Baron and Victor looked angry. Thomas motioned for Charles to follow.

Once away from the others, Charles said, “I saw some palm trees a little farther this way and I do believe that these may be coconut trees. If I am correct, then we shall easily quench our thirst and have something good to eat.”

His learning served them well, for the trees were indeed filled with large green fruit. At first Charles wondered how they might scale the tree to retrieve their prize, but then he saw that there were many lying on the ground in the soft grass. He picked one up and looked confused.

“Thomas,” he said, “I don’t believe these are coconuts. I’ve seen coconuts at the village fetes. They stand them on posts at the coconut shy and those are brown and covered with coarse hair.”

Thomas laughed and said, “That part lies beneath this outer husk of green. The best part is in the center and we are lucky that I brought my knife. Attend.” He began to hack at the pointed end of the coconut until he exposed a bit of the woody shell. Then he chopped off the end and brought it to his mouth so that he could drink. Handing the remainder to his friend, he watched Charles’ face, as he tasted the sweet elixir for the first time. The boy was very thirsty, and he delighted in the new fruit. When it was empty, he felt disappointed, but Thomas was already preparing another. Once both shells were drained, Thomas split them open and scraped out the moist, white meat that lay inside. It was crunchy and wonderful and satisfied some of their hunger.

Charles suggested that they carry some of them to the Wycrofts, but Thomas said, “First let’s explore some. We may find other fruits and hopefully water. I don’t want to burden ourselves with the weight of coconuts while we search. We can always come back for some. At any rate, they deserve to be thirsty if they are too lazy to get up and fetch for themselves.”

As for the Wycrofts, the family was experiencing something that was new for them, hunger and thirst. In recent days they had of necessity seen fewer elaborate dishes on their table and had sometimes made do with poorer cuts of meat, but never had they gone for two days without food or drink. To compound their misery, they had to face the devastating loss of young Cedric and their resulting grief. All of their lives they had been pampered and tended to and now, with no servants to order about, they were completely at a loss. A feeling of depression followed their confusion and so they sat silently, staring at each other and at the lonely boat that rested on the sand nearby. No one moved to help the others.

Violette was angry enough to want to scream and rage. Her clothing was ruined, crusted with salt and sand, and still damp underneath. Furious with her parents for forcing her to come with them on this disastrous trip, she wanted to cry, but she had no tears left, even for poor Cedric.

Victor’s anger was centered mostly on Thomas and that upstart servant boy. He fantasized about how sternly he would deal with them when they returned. He would put them in their place and then the world would be somewhat restored to normalcy. At least this small part of it. He couldn’t bring himself to think about his deceased brother, who lay nearby.

Lady Wycroft was in a state of shock. Most of her life had been one of leisure, with fawning parents and neighbors and staff. Not once had she even had to pour her own cup of tea. Now she knew that she was dying from hunger and thirst. No human could be expected to survive two days without any food at all. No, soon she would join her beloved child, Cedric, in death. Poor Cedric, her favorite son.

On some level, the Baron felt that he should be taking charge of everything. After all, that was his role in life, to be the leader of men. Now that he was actually called upon to act, he had no idea what to do. He must care for his family and see to their survival, he must see to poor Cedric, and he must do… something. But what? Filled with indecision, he just sat on the sand and waited.

Charles and Thomas had found a narrow path inland that led through the trees and the tall grass. “This looks like an animal trail,” said Thomas. “There, in that soft earth, it looks like a hoof print. I think there may be wild hogs on this island. If so, they can be dangerous, but also a source of meat for us.”

Following the trail upwards they found many welcome surprises along the way. There were beautiful birds in the branches above them as well as a species of small, chattering monkeys. It was the monkeys who led them to discover a banana tree with much ripe fruit. Soon the sound of splashing water reached their ears and they happened upon a small stream that came from a rocky ledge and fell into a wide pool. The water was clear, and they knelt and drank deeply. Having satisfied their thirst, the two friends lay back on a large boulder to rest.

“I am so very tired,” Charles said. “It’s hard to rest when my clothing feels so dirty and stiff. I’m tempted to bathe and launder my clothes in the pool. What do you say?”

Thomas agreed that it was a capital idea and so they quickly stripped and waded into the cool water, carrying their trousers, shirts and under garments. They let the clothing soak while they splashed and reveled in the pool for a while. Then they laid their things out to dry while they stretched themselves out on the rocks to rest. Shortly they fell asleep. Charles awoke and found that the sun was now overhead. He looked at his slumbering friend and at his lean, muscular body. Thomas had very pale skin for someone who spent so much time in the sun. Only his face and arms were tanned, where his shirt didn’t hide them. The whiteness of his skin contrasted sharply with his jet-black hair on his head, and other places. Charles took the opportunity to examine the other boy’s body and he found it strangely beautiful. He seldom saw other men naked and was naturally curious. His phallus lay across his hip and his scrotum nestled between his thin thighs. Mostly it looked to Charles just like his own. He found himself wanting to touch it, but he resisted.

Thomas stirred and smiled at him. “We should probably get dressed and follow this stream downward. It may lead us to a place to set up a shelter. If we can encamp near a stream, then we will not have to carry water.”

Luck was with them and the stream widened as a few other small brooks joined it. After about a mile they came to a wide clearing, about thirty feet across and full of green grass, a perfect place to build a shelter. It was near the beach where the stream met the tides and created a small marsh. A large stand of bamboo grew a short way inland and there were palmetto type plants that could be used to aid in some sort of shelter construction.

Thomas and Charles began the hike back up the beach to where the others were waiting. It was less far than Charles thought, because it was a more direct route than over the hills. He had brought some bananas to share and they picked up two coconuts along the way. Thomas was angry and disgusted upon arriving back at the boat to see that nothing had been done at all. In fact, the Wycrofts had hardly stirred at all. The hot sun was baking the corpse that still lay in the boat and Thomas knew it would soon become corrupt. Charles was not at all surprised at the family’s lack of activity because he knew them well. He handed the bananas to Lord Wycroft, who shared them with the others. They grabbed at them greedily, and once they were devoured, they demanded to know where the water was, why there was not more food, and why he had taken so long.

Meanwhile, Thomas opened the two coconuts and let them drink, but it was hardly enough to satisfy them. “You must do better than this, Boy,” the Baron admonished.

Thomas looked angry, and defiantly said, “His name is not Boy! His name is Charles. Remember it. We did find water, as well as a place to build a shelter. Now, understand this, neither Charles nor I are your servants. If you want water, you must walk to it. Otherwise, you can do without. Isn’t that right, Charles?”

Emboldened by Thomas’ daring stance, he said, “Yes. I am not your servant any longer. You must all look after yourselves. I will show you where the water is, but we should hurry because night is coming soon. I don’t want to spend the night out on the beach.”

“That’s right,” said Thomas, “We believe that there are wild animals on the island. But why have you not done anything about your dead son? Do you expect to leave him like this? Food for the birds and other creatures? The job isn’t going to become any more pleasant.”

“I, I don’t know what to do,” the Baron finally admitted.

Charles said, “We don’t have anything to dig a grave with so I can only think of two options. You can carry him into the forest and pile stones around him to keep the beasts away or row his body out to deeper water with a stone tied to his feet and commend him to the sea.”

Lady Wycroft screamed in agony at the boy’s suggestions. Lord Wycroft looked heartbroken while the other two merely looked troubled. Charles said gently, “We will help, of course.”

Victor had prepared in his mind a speech that would show the boys who was actually in charge, but Charles’ sudden stance of independence and Thomas’ almost savage tone, left him too surprised to deliver it.

The Baron said at last, “The sea. It seems somehow more dignified.” He sighed deeply.

Since Cedric was still in the boat, Charles and Thomas found a nice round stone from the edge of the forest and placed it beside him. Lord Wycroft was the only family member who joined them as Victor and the others chose to remain ashore. The boys rowed out past the breakers and the father wept as he secured the anchor to his beautiful son’s feet. He said a silent prayer for his eternal rest and when they had gone far enough, he watched as the boys let the body slide over the side. It immediately sank out of sight.

They rowed back to shore and Charles said, “I think it would be faster to row to the estuary and take everyone. We will need the boat in the days to come.”

“Good thinking. I doubt that these toffs could walk that far anyway.”

A sullen silence met them as they relayed their plans to the others and loaded them into the boat. It was nearly dark when they arrived and there was no time to prepare anything. Charles ran into the forest to bring back a few bananas while Thomas showed the family a spot to drink from the stream. With no way to make a fire and no time to find wood to burn, the castaways had to make their beds in the warm sand of the beach. Charles felt exposed and anxious, but was comforted by Thomas’ proximity.

The next morning, they awakened after a restless night. Strange sounds from the forest had caused them alarm more than once and troubled their rest. Charles went to drink from the stream and then ate a banana. He sat upon a rock and stared at the distant horizon.

“What are you doing?” asked Thomas.

“Thinking. We need to come up with a plan of how to survive on this island. We need so many things. We have water, but we need more food. I will grow weary of bananas in a short time, I’m certain. I think I know a way to make fire, but we also need something to keep off the weather. The only tool we have is your knife and it will be needed to cut bamboo, reeds and vines. We can fish, I suppose, but we will need some way to catch them. What will we do for weapons if an animal attacks us? Thomas, there is just so much to think about and I’m not certain we can count on the Wycrofts to be of much use.”

“I like the way your mind works, my friend. Our minds are our best tools. I don’t think that we have to worry about storms right now so why don’t we explore a bit more and see if we can find anything useful,” Thomas said.

Charles felt encouraged and comforted by his words. “We could take the boat and row along the shore first. Then if we find anything interesting, we can stop or return on foot.”

Returning to where the others were stirring, Thomas said, “Listen up. We are going to explore and try to find something to help us. While we are gone, it would be a good idea if some of you would look around for more food. If you follow the stream uphill, you will find a nice pool to bathe in and wash the salt from your garments. Charles and I will return this afternoon.”

None of the sullen Wycrofts spoke to them as they rowed away. The pair were soon out of sight of their fellow voyagers, but the shoreline didn’t seem to be very interesting. Miles of white sand and palm trees and scrubby underbrush was all that they saw, just like the place where they had landed. Then there was something different. One section of the beach was littered with debris, so they went closer to see what it was. To their delight they found that it was several wooden barrels, a few crates, and some pieces of shattered wood from their very own ship.

It was with great excitement that they waded ashore to examine the prizes. Three of the crates were actually chests that had belonged to men aboard the capsized ship. They were water-tight and contained clothing, tobacco, bottles of rum, a book or two and some sewing kits, among other various items. One even had a cutlass and two long knives, a very valuable find.

Some of the barrels were empty, but two contained lengths of sailcloth. The final chest opened to reveal perhaps the best treasure of all, a small axe and two hand saws, as well as other small items that apparently belonged to the ship’s carpenter.

“With these tools,” said Thomas, “We can build sturdy shelters for ourselves. If I could have chosen items to take from the ship, I could hardly have chosen better than these we have found today. It is almost as if Providence has taken a hand in our survival.”

“We must ferry these back to our camp and secure them. This makes exploration more of a necessity because there may be more things washing ashore,” said Charles. “Thomas, why do you think that these things found their way here when the wreck was so far north of us?”

“It’s because of the ocean currents, Charles. Just like rivers on dry land, the ocean has currents that flow in many directions. The current that delivered these gifts to us also played a part in our arrival. And perhaps Providence had a hand as well.”

They loaded the boat with the items, leaving the empty chests and barrels behind to be retrieved later. Upon arriving back at their camp, they found that the four Wycrofts had taken advantage of the bathing pool and had rinsed out their clothing. They had not however allowed their things to dry before wearing them again. The women looked especially miserable. Besides being damp and uncomfortable, their dresses were not designed to withstand the trials which they had endured. The silk linings and velvet trims were torn and sagging, and the lace was falling off their cuffs. The men looked little better so when the two explorers offered them clothing from the sailor’s chests the baron and his son reluctantly accepted them. Lady Wycroft and Violette both refused to consider wearing men’s garments. They looked offended at the very suggestion, so Charles thought that they deserved to be uncomfortable.

Rather than look for food, the Wycrofts had eaten all of the ripe bananas and left none for Charles and Thomas. Their laziness annoyed the boys very much, so they decided to ignore the others and take care of themselves. Thomas said, “Charles, let us find some dry wood in the forest here and collect enough to make a fire. We can use the axe and saw to cut some more. I feel like a hot meal tonight, don’t you?”

Charles grinned and asked, “Can you really build a fire?”

“Yes, I can,” Thomas said cheerfully. The two soon collected a nice pile of wood and some dry grass and twigs for kindling. Tearing a blank page from one of the books, he crumpled it up. Then he took from his pocket a small spyglass that had been in the bottom of a chest. Carefully removing the top lens from it, he held it over the paper and let the rays of the sun focus a small dot of light on it. In a few seconds, the paper began to smoke and suddenly it burst into a flame, to which Thomas quickly added the dry grass and twigs. It was almost like magic the way the wood took fire and began to burn merrily.

Once they had it going well enough to leave it, they went down to the marshy estuary and Thomas pointed out small holes in the muck. Digging into these with their hands, they began to pull up clams. These, they piled onto an old shirt and carried them to the surf to rinse them off. In a tide pool Thomas pointed to Charles the presence of mussels, dozens of them which he pried from the rocks with his knife. They added these to the clams.

When they returned to the fire they added more wood and Thomas started to add some clams to the coals. “I have an idea,” said Charles, “that may make these morsels more palatable. Bring me a few of those coconut shells that you opened while I gather up some stones.”

Charles filled each shell with water and put the rocks into the fire. He put some clams and mussels into the shells and waited for the rocks to heat up. When he dropped the hot stones into the water they hissed and began to make the water boil, thus cooking the meat inside.

Thomas slapped him on the back and said, “Well done, my friend. How did you think of that? I would have put the entire coconut into the fire.”

“That would have caused the shell to burn. This is a method that I read about, something that Africans do with their soft pottery. I hoped that the coconut flesh would add flavor to the clams.”

The shellfish had opened in the hot water and it was now simple enough to dump them onto the shirt and use the knife to scrape them out. It was a simple meal, but hunger is a great sauce and so the boys thoroughly enjoyed themselves. They repeated the process to cook the remainder of their catch.

Meanwhile, their fellow castaways had come closer to the fire and looked longingly at the food.

Charles, despite his nascent feelings of rebellion, still had a lingering instinct to help them. Thomas saw this and raised a hand to stop him. Instead, Thomas carried a batch of clams to them and said, “Look, I know that you are all accustomed to a posh life and have never had to do anything constructive, but we are not going to do everything for you. If you want to eat, you are going to have to work. It is simple. There is no reason that you cannot dig clams or catch fish. You can go into the forest and find fruit. It is apparent that we are going to be here for an indefinite period, until a passing ship rescues us, if that happens at all. We will fare much better if we work together. It is time to forget about titles and nobility, and work toward our mutual survival. If you don’t, you will perish.” He left them to mull over that idea. By the looks on their faces, it was not a pleasant idea.

Thomas said, “We have fire and some food. We need to think about building a shelter tomorrow. While we have daylight we should look more closely at the treasures we found and think about ways to use them.”

Their noble companions watched silently. They had been less silent earlier in the day when they were on their own. Each of them had been peevish with each other, complaining about every small trespass or inconvenience, and blaming one another for their trouble. The heaviest burden of guilt, had been heaped on the baron for forcing them to undertake such a nightmare voyage. Their ire soon dissipated, however, and they sank into a sullen silence. For the first time in years, they were forced to actually think about something; in this case, their survival. Lord Wycroft had hardly used his brain since his school days, except for occasionally inventing some scheme to cheat one of his neighbors or some local merchant out of money. Now he found that a dire responsibility had fallen on his shoulders, that of caring for his wife and children. A sense of panic caused acid to rise in his throat as he realized that he had no idea how to go about saving them. His mind went numb with fear.

Victor felt shame. He had been spoken to in extremely unkind terms by his own scullery boy and yet he was unable to vent his anger. He had to swallow it because he was afraid of the two ruffians who seemed to have taken charge of his illustrious family. Indeed, he was more frightened of Thomas, than of being alone on the island. The bits of food that he had been given were ill prepared, lacking in flavor, and quite tough. Not at all the sort of meal he deserved. Still, he was hungry.

Violette tried not to think about the terrible night she had spent bobbing in the uncharted ocean, wishing she could die. The floating jackets which they had worn kept her head out of the water, but just barely. She had swallowed a good bit of the salty water and it made her sick. Clinging to her family, all equally miserable, had not alleviated any of her shock and horror. She felt only a little safer with them at hand. Now, on this desolate beach, her clothing filled with grit, her stomach empty, her dress ruined and her hair looking like a bird’s nest, she let the untamed fear turn to anger.

Lady Wycroft was different from the others because her earlier life had not always been one of luxury. As a girl, her parents were farmers who owned a small croft. She had actually done work in the house as well as the fields, when necessary, as they had no servants or other staff. Fortune found its way to their home one day in the form of gold coins, an iron pot of Roman coins that had lain buried in the field for hundreds of years, waiting only for an errant plow to dislodge them. This gold enabled them to buy land from their neighbors and build a much larger house. They hired men to help in the fields and girls to scrub the house and to cook. The increase in property brought even more money in the form of greater yields from the fields, and so their wealth continued to grow. One day, in her late teens, she attended a ball and there met a young man who would one day be a baron. Since then, she had never encountered toil in any form, but now memories of her youth seeped back into her thoughts, and she felt much less helpless.

When first rescued from the sea, she had been dreadfully frightened, especially upon realizing that her beloved child was dead beside her. Her first reaction had been to retreat to a haughty demeanor, a disguise for her fear. When the boy, Charles, had said that he would no longer be ordered about, she actually felt ashamed. After all, she owed her life and the lives of her family to him. He could have left them to drown and no one would ever have known. Now, she admonished herself to be more reasonable and to put forth an effort to help their survival.

The next morning, after another night spent on the warm sand, the two boys approached the Wycrofts and presented them with a modest plan of action. Thomas said, “We talked during the night and this is what we have decided. We have water, and that is a prime requirement. Now we also need a greater and more varied supply of food. We also need shelter and we need to search the beaches and the rest of the island for other survivors, or for any other cargo that may have washed ashore. None of you are fit for rowing or walking long distances so the two of us will explore for two days while you remain here and try to improve our camp.

“I don’t care how you divide the tasks, but this must be done. Use the cutlass to fell some of the bamboo, gather vines to tie them together, build a structure of four walls and a roof. Surely you can figure out how to make something. Tie palm leaves to the roof to keep off rain and sun. Dig in the marsh for clams, walk the tide pools for shellfish and other creatures, keep the fire going. Chop wood, and remember, if the fire goes out you will not be able to cook anything. We will be back in two or three days.”

With that, he and Charles got into the boat and rowed away. The family looked at each other, waiting for someone to speak. Lady Wycroft finally stood and said, “We had better change clothes, Violette. These rags are not appropriate attire for physical labor. See if any of those trousers and shirts will fit you well enough.”

Violette cried out, “Mother, you cannot be serious. If you think for one minute that I will wear the filthy clothing of some unknown sea person, well…”

“Violette! You will do as I say. I will not tolerate any more of your petulance. Our situation is serious and there is no time for childishness. Come, help me pick out something to wear. I’m going to gather some vines.”

Lord Wycroft seemed to awaken from a dream and he looked at his wife in surprise. He had never heard her take on such a commanding tone. Violette scowled as she gingerly lifted a shirt from an open trunk. She held it as if it were crawling with ants.

“I like that one, Dear. It’s long enough that you can put a belt around it and wear it as a dress,” her mother said.

“But it will barely go below my knees. My legs will be on display.”

“No one will see, but us. Really, it will make the heat more tolerable.”

The ladies went a short way into the forest and changed out of their ruined finery. Emerging, dressed in long, loose cotton shirts, they actually did feel better. The clothing was clean and cool on their skin. With no one to impress and no social restrictions to encumber them they also shed their under garments. Their shoes had already fallen apart so their feet and legs were bare.

“Prudence!” said the baron, “I’m shocked. You look positively scandalous in men’s clothing. I’m glad that our neighbors are not here to see you.”

“It’s time to be realistic, Horace. Now, I suggest that you and Victor follow the advice of those boys and start building us a house to live in. There is the cutlass and there is the bamboo. I am going to find some vines and Violette is going to look for clams and shellfish,” said Lady Wycroft tartly.

“I am not about to set foot in the muck of that swamp. You cannot expect me to grub around for slimy things in the mud,” Violette protested.

“You can go hungry then, Dear. The mud will wash right off of your bare legs.”

The baron roused his son and the two of them began to harvest the thick stalks of bamboo. Victor said, “Do you have the first idea of how to build a house?”

“Actually, I do. I watched my father’s gamekeeper build an outbuilding for our dogs. I remember the important parts. You have an expensive education, Son, so let’s try and put it to use. Surely, between the two of us we can cobble together something sturdy enough to suffice.”

The two of them discussed the problem as they sawed and hacked away at the tough tubes of giant grass. Somehow, the combination of physical labor and the activity of creating something together, father and son, was oddly satisfying, and the fear and sorrow of the past few days began to dissolve from their minds for a bit. They actually became excited at seeing their work take form. Prudence brought yards and yards of supple vines, perfect for tying together posts and lintels. Victor had the bright idea of using sailcloth for the roof, rather than vegetation. Their labors were punctuated by the frequent screams of Violette as she trudged through the marshy estuary, foraging for buried morsels. At first the screams alarmed them, but soon they found them humorous and shared a smile and a laugh whenever she stepped on something unpleasant.

A few hours later Violette returned carrying a shirt bulging with clams. She was soaking wet after having washed them, and her muddy limbs in the surf. Annoyed and angry, she threw the shells on the ground in front of her father, saying, “I hope you are happy. That was the worst experience of my life!”

The baron said, “Violette, that’s wonderful. You did very well, child. I am proud of you.”

She was taken aback. It was the first time anyone had said that they were proud of her and it gave her pause and made her feel good. Her anger dissipated, and she blushed slightly and said, “Thank you.”

Charles and Thomas rowed slowly in the opposite direction from their previous exploration. They soon passed the location of their initial landing and continued scanning the sandy shoreline for anything unusual. Twice they stopped to examine objects and found that one was an intact barrel of hardtack. The bread inside was ruined, but there were two iron pots inside which were unharmed. They would be very useful. The barrel was flotsam from the ship, and the other was a large turtle. They admired its strange beauty but left it alone.

It was mid-day when they spotted someone lying in the surf. Quickly rowing to shore they eagerly approached the man to give aid. Unfortunately, they were much too late. The sailor had been dead for quite some time and crabs had been feeding on his face. They tied his legs to the back of the boat and rowed him back out beyond the breakers. As they had with Cedric, they anchored his legs and sent him down to Davy Jones. It was a sailor’s burial.

Thomas suggested that they go ashore and explore the forest on this part of the island. They quickly spotted a trail that led into the trees and saw that it was made by some sort of animal. In the softer soil were the hoof marks which Charles recognized as being those of goats.

“We need to fashion spears, or bows and arrows,” Charles said, thinking of roasted meat for dinner. Unfortunately, that would have to wait until they returned to camp. A hunting trip was certainly in order. Meanwhile they settled for fruit, which grew in abundance around them. There were odd things that Charles had never seen or tasted, but he remembered reading of them in the baron’s books. Thomas showed him how to eat a mango and a papaya, and the new flavors were wonderful to him.

They spent a few hours exploring the forest on this part of the island. From here they could see that the lower part quickly rose steeply to form three peaks. The smallest was covered in green shrubs while the two tallest were mainly rock, and the only thing growing at their summit was a tall grass. Not far into the trees they encountered a sheer rock wall, the remains of an old lava flow. In the face of the rock was an opening that was striking because of its almost perfectly circular shape. Thomas said that it looked like something that he had heard about, a lava tube, the ancient exit for molten magma as it flowed to the sea. They were curious to see how far it went into the mountain, but without a light source they had to wait until a future date. Perhaps it might provide a better shelter for them all.

Returning to the boat, they loaded it with a quantity of fruit and continued to row along the beach. Eventually they made a couple of discoveries, a cask of wine, and a small chest containing some stout cord and an assortment of brass hooks. Thomas was jubilant at this find and explained to Charles that they could now try to catch some fish. Using the flesh of a mussel harvested from a tide pool, he pierced it with a large hook which he had tied to a length of cord. Trailing this bait behind them they began rowing back to their camp. The two had not gone far when the stern of the boat gave a strong lurch, which took them by surprise by its violence.

“Quickly, Charles. Pull the cord in. We have caught something, and I believe it is big,” Thomas said, laughing. Charles tried to pull on the cord, but it hurt his hands.

“Help me,” he begged. His heart raced with excitement at the unexpected contest of wills as Thomas joined him. Together they made slow progress at drawing their catch nearer to the boat. It seemed to be much longer than the actual few minutes it took to finally bring the prize within sight.

“It’s a grouper,” declared Thomas. “They are good to eat. Look at the size of it!”

The giant fish did not want to be dragged from its comfortably wet home and it struggled with surprising strength, splashing them with its powerful tail. Finally, Charles had to beat it about the head with an oar to stun it so that they could drag it aboard. Once they finally secured their catch the two friends sat back to rest from their labors and admire the giant fish. It was surely four feet long from nose to tail and they talked about how many meals it would make.

When they finally looked around them, they saw that the great fish had dragged their boat far from shore and they had to row back, but they didn’t mind. Still too far from camp to return that day, they made a fire on the beach and Thomas cut some pieces from their grouper.

“How should we cook it?” Thomas asked. “We could put chunks of it on sticks and hold them over the fire.””Yes, that would work, I think. But also, I read that on some islands the natives wrap their food in banana leaves and put ashes and coals on top of it. The food cooks inside the leaves. While we wait for the fish to cook that way we can go ahead and roast some over the flames. I’m hungry for something besides fruit and mussels.”

Thomas built them a nice fire and Charles found some leaves with which to wrap their dinner. By the time they settled down to sleep that evening, their stomachs were full, and they felt content. Charles only wished that they had some salt to season the meal and said that they would have to find a way to create some from sea water. They had tapped into the cask of wine and used shells found on the beach as drinking cups. A few drinks of wine made Charles feel warm and, for the first time in many years, actually happy. While he was stranded on an island, he had made a good friend who had helped him stay alive, and who had given him the courage to break the bonds of his servitude to the Wycrofts. Whatever life brought in the coming days, he felt it must be better than the life he left behind.

When Thomas and Charles returned to the estuary camp, they were surprised to find that the baron and his son had made good progress on a shelter. There were three walls supported by posts made of multiple pieces of bamboo, all lashed together with vines. Between the posts were more horizontal supports to which were attached layers of dried palm leaves. The floor was sand, and one wall was completely open to allow for air. They were in the process of stretching some sailcloth over the top when the explorers returned.

The surprised duo stopped to admire the work and congratulated them for having achieved so much. Thomas said to Charles, “I’m actually amazed. I expected to see them sitting where we left them, starving to death. It looks almost as if they are enjoying their work.”

It would be misleading to say that the Wycrofts had completely reformed from their decadent ways. They still held firmly to their sense of class distinction and while they were grateful for the aid of the young men, they were also resentful. Victor especially, felt as if he had not been shown the proper respect for his station and that seed of bitterness left a bad taste in his mouth. He found himself sneering whenever he looked at Charles and Thomas.

Charles shared the new fruit with them and showed them the remainder of the large fish. There was no way to prevent the carcass from spoiling in the warm sun, so he cut large portions from it and set about wrapping them in leaves and cooking them. Along with the fruit and wine the survivors had a most enjoyable evening and went to bed that night feeling at least comfortable, if not happy.

Thomas took Charles aside and told him that he had no desire to sleep in the same house as the others. “Tonight, I would prefer to sleep on the beach once more and tomorrow we can build our own shelter. I have some ideas that I think will be an improvement over theirs.”

Charles agreed and said that he had seen drawings of homes built by South American tribes that were built off the ground. “I would like to try and build a platform of some sort that will keep crawling pests away from me. Do you think we can do that?”

Thomas promised that they could. Charles had another idea which he wished to try before going to bed. He took pieces of the grouper, which was beginning to smell, and sprinkled them in a few of the tide pools while the tide was out. The next morning, he checked the pools and found that dozens of crabs and other creatures, brought in on the night’s tide, had come to dine on the flesh and, unable to resist the feast, were still in the pools when the tide once again receded. He tied off the legs of a pair of sailor’s trousers and then began using them as a sack to hold the crustaceans. “I am truly grateful that providence has gifted us with these iron pots,” Charles said. “With these to help us we can improve our diet. I shall boil these crabs in short order.” And he did. There was not a lot of flesh in the jagged shells, but it was a welcome change from their other fare.

Thomas picked out a spot that was farther back into the forest to build a hut. He found saplings which he cut down with a saw and trimmed the branches with a knife. Using four larger trees as supports he lashed the saplings to them at a height of about two feet from the ground. It formed a four-sided shape that was more of a trapezoid than a square, but it was a sturdy base. Then he began laying more saplings down to support a floor. There was not enough cord or rope to tie them down so Charles did as Lady Wycroft had done and harvested vines. It made a secure enough floor which they then covered with split lengths of bamboo and layers of foliage. There was a plant that grew large, fan shaped leaves and these were tough and strong, so they cut many of them to form a softer layer of bedding. A sailcloth roof was all they needed to get their new home ready for the night. Thomas said that walls could come later if they needed them.

Charles enjoyed sleeping next to his friend that night, away from the others. It felt special.

A few days later, Charles said to Thomas, “I’m getting a bit tired of clams, mussels and crabs. The occasional fish is nice, but I need something more. I think we should go hunting for other meat. We know that there are pigs and goats on the island, so we should try to find some.”

“Ah, roast pork would be a treat,” said Thomas with a wishful smile. “Let’s try to fashion spears and see if we have any luck. I think we should take Victor with us and make him work. He has done nothing since they finished their house.”

This was not actually true. The family had found several chores to occupy their time. The baron and Victor had foraged every day for fruit and shellfish, while Violette and her mother set to work on some of the spare trousers and shirts to turn them into feminine attire. Both had been trained to do needle work as a pastime, thus it was a small step to sewing clothing. In the evenings they entertained themselves by reading from one of the few books that had been found.

Charles and Thomas found several saplings of a very straight sort and cut them to a length of around six feet. They sharpened the ends as best they could and charred them in the coals of the fire to harden them. When they told Victor of their hunting plans, they were surprised when he readily agreed to join them.

“It’s better than searching for clams in the muck,” he said. “I have been boar hunting several times on Lord McAlister’s estate.”

Arming themselves further with the cutlass and knives they strode off into the forest and quickly located the animal trail where they had previously seen hoof prints.

Charles said, “We must keep an eye open for animal tracks, but we should also look for fruit trees and anything else that might look as if we can eat it.”

“Yes,” said Thomas, “and we should also remember our own trail, so that we don’t become lost. I don’t wish to sleep out here in the wild.”

Their path led them upwards and wound around under brush and over rocks, leading them into a confusing maze that crossed back over itself many times. They saw frequent signs of pigs, but none of the actual beasts. There were places where the pigs had obviously rolled about and dug up the earth. They found plenty of droppings, but it was not until they were ready to concede defeat and head back to camp that luck finally smiled upon them. Taking them fully by surprise, a small piglet came squealing out of a thicket and ran past them before they could react. A loud crackling of brush told them that more pigs were coming so they all raised their spears and when the mother pig burst onto the trail, followed by three more piglets, Thomas threw his spear. He missed the target, but Victor was ready and used his spear to thrust into the shoulder of the beast. This caused it to scream and it turned to angrily attack Thomas. Charles stabbed it with his spear right in the side and stopped the animal. He then finished it off with the cutlass and ended its suffering.

They celebrated briefly and rested before gutting the pig. Thomas said that it would make it lighter to carry back to camp, so Charles volunteered to cut it open. He had never done such a thing before, but he had a basic idea of anatomy and managed to cut out all the right bits. Victor looked rather ill and turned away from the slaughter. He cut down a thick sapling on which they tied their prize and helped carry it back down the hill. Everyone was excited when they returned and gathered around to admire the kill.

“This prize rivals any boar ever brought down on Lord McAlister’s estate,” said the baron. “It’s an admirable feat.” In truth, it was not of a great size, but that was just as well because they had no way yet of preserving the meat, and any that could not be eaten soon would spoil.

Thomas said, “Yes, and it is Victor who gets our thanks. He speared it when my own throw missed.”

Victor blushed when his father praised him, and his mother hugged him. He felt grateful to Thomas for his tribute and for not saying that he had been faint while watching the subsequent gutting. He also felt a sense of accomplishment that went beyond that of winning at cards. Victor began to think that he could do much more than he had ever considered. His confidence in his abilities grew several notches that day and he looked forward to proving himself once again.

The castaways were all impatient and eager to dine on the pork, so Charles suggested that they carve off bits of flesh to roast and then dig a pit to cook the rest of it. The fire was stoked, and Charles cut strips of meat for everyone to skewer and toast. By now, Lady Wycroft and Violette had taken turns at cooking, so they no longer protested at preparing their own food. Now they happily held their sticks over the burning wood and sighed in anticipation as they watched fatty juices drip and sizzle onto the hot coals. After days of tough clams and other seafood they were delighted with something more substantial. They even talked merrily to Thomas and Charles, forgetting for a moment or two that they were of a lower class.

The next few days were spent foraging for other foods. The women were less timid now about venturing into the forest alone, as there seemed to be no venomous vipers or large predators lurking in its depth. They brought back bananas and mangoes, and even found a new fruit which Charles recognized as a guava, a sweet red fruit with a pink flesh. A welcome addition to their diet. Calling upon the lessons he had secretly learned in the Wycroft’s library, Charles demonstrated how to produce salt from sea water. He strained several gallons of water into a cook pot and boiled it until most of the water evaporated. What was left looked like wet sand. That needed a few days of drying in the sun, and what was left was a wonderful seasoning. He told them that they could also use salt to preserve both game and fish for future use, although it would require a good deal of time and labor to produce enough of it.

Thomas had saved the small intestine of the pig and spent some time working on it. He cleaned it, scraped it, twisted and dried it, but would not say how he was going to use it. Finally, he selected a tree branch and began to carve it down into a bow. Using the gut as a bowstring, he then made some arrows and began practicing shooting them at a target. “I believe I can do more with this than with a spear, and I won’t have to get as close,” he said.

Charles had taken a rather narrow length of bamboo and split the end into six pieces. He sharpened each end into a barbed point, so that it looked like a strange flower. He called it a fish spear and demonstrated its effectiveness by wading into the surf and stabbing it into the water several times. At last he raised it to show a fat silver fish impaled on the end.

A week or more later, rain set in for two days, not a violent rain, merely a prolonged gentle downpour, which at times, grew rather heavy. It was a good test for their shelters, as they were forced to remain inside for most of the duration.

Charles was happy to have some quiet time alone with Thomas. Away from the others he could speak more intimately with his friend. Ever since their trials at sea and during their time on the island, he had felt a growing fondness for the handsome young man. It was a new feeling for Charles, one that he had heard spoken of in disparaging terms, but had never attributed to himself. Now, as they sheltered from the elements and lay together talking, a sense of intimacy grew in each of them and they found themselves somehow moving slowly closer to each other physically and emotionally. Finally, a moment of silence came, and Charles looked at Thomas, even as Thomas was looking back. There was no need to speak their minds, they both felt the desire. Their lips drew near, and Charles closed his eyes as he was kissed for the first time in his life. It was more than exciting, it was thrilling. The young man’s lips were both soft and firm as they met his. They embraced and held each other tightly, pressing their mouths together firmly, neither of them wanting to let go.

Charles felt Thomas’ hands on his skin, exploring and grasping. He welcomed the touch, the vibrant sensations that electrified his body and made him gasp. Unsure of how to proceed, Charles was happy to surrender to the more experienced lad. Afterwards, the two men lay in each other’s arms, feeling happy and safe for the first time since their ship sank.

Now that they all had shelter of a sort and the need for food became less urgent, Charles and Thomas decided to further explore their new island home. When they announced their plans of mapping the island by making a series of treks to the farthest points, Victor said that he would accompany them. Charles was a bit disappointed at not being alone with his lover, but he had no legitimate reason to object, so the trio set out into the jungle. Their first goal was to reach the summit of the largest hill, a distance of more than a mile. Hacking their way through the undergrowth, they carved a path to the top. From there they could see several other lesser peaks, all covered in thick growth, and in the distance, they saw a bit of the far shore. That gave them some idea of just how large their island was. Thomas suggested that they make for that side and see if there might be food sources. Charles had already pointed out plants that he recognized as the Yuca, which he remembered had an edible root. They chose not to dig any at the moment, but to wait until later in their journey.

Continuing on down they found the growth was less dense and so their way was easier. Arriving at last at the north shore they found that the sea there was noticeably less rough than the south side of the island. They took the time to strip and bathe in the warm water and to wash away their weariness. Charles and Thomas stripped immediately, but Victor suddenly became shy and seemed reluctant to disrobe in front of the others. Finally, they coaxed him nicely into joining them, so he removed his trousers, cupped his hands over his crotch and ran into the water. Immediately he felt better and soon the three were laughing and splashing each other.

Thomas and Charles were careful to not get carried away with each other. They didn’t want to draw attention to their newfound affection for each other. A bit later, as they lay on the sand to dry off and relax, both of them began to become visibly excited, so they turned onto their stomachs to hide the evidence. They laughed but didn’t tell Victor why.

Soon it was time to explore some more and they walked in an easterly direction, for no real reason. There were tidepools to delve and Thomas threw a few nice fish onto the sand. They were easy to catch, being in such a small corral. A narrow arm of rock extended out about one hundred yards into the water, and Thomas saw something that interested him. Charles watched him take out his knife and wade along the base of the rock where he began to dig away at the gray stone. He soon returned with an armful of stones which he tossed onto the sand. On closer inspection, Charles could see that they were not rocks but large shellfish.

“I hope you two like oysters,” Thomas said proudly. “I’ve never seen finer ones than these.”

“I’ve never had oysters,” Charles said. He didn’t think they looked at all appetizing.

“I have,” cried Victor. “At Lord Tremain’s house, at a party. They were brought in from the coast. I liked them very much.”

“I like them, too,” Thomas said as he began to pry one open with his knife.

“How do you eat them?” asked Charles, without enthusiasm.

“Like this, you scrape them loose and slide it into your mouth.”

Thomas slurped one down, chewed it briefly, and swallowed it with a smile. He wiped the juice from his chin with his arm and began opening one for Victor.

Victor also had no fear of the wet morsel and quickly inhaled one. Poor Charles took some convincing before he was cajoled into trying one. The taste was not so bad, but the texture would take some getting used to. As he chewed the flesh, he felt something scrape across his tooth. He spit that part out into his hand and said, “There was a rock in mine.”

There in his hand was a round stone, sort of pink in color, and very shiny. Thomas took it and clapped Charles on the back. “Congratulations old man, you found a pearl. A pink pearl. Pink is more valuable than white ones, or so I’m told.”

“May I see it?” Victor asked. He examined it closely and announced that it was a very fine pearl. His mother once had many of them and she had explained about their value. “I wonder if there might be more,” he said.

As they opened the remaining oysters, they each found a couple more pink pearls. The meat was eaten at first, but when they waded out for more, they simply opened the shells and extracted any gem that it contained. Soon the tide began to come back in, and they were forced to retreat back up the beach. They rested under a large tree and silently gazed at the endless sea, contemplating their futures. After several minutes of stillness, they heard a rustling in the forest behind them and turned to see two goats stepping out to graze on some grass. Victor leapt up and grabbed his spear, thinking to take one, but he startled the animals and they fled unharmed. Victor was disappointed, but Thomas told him that it was of no importance.

“Just knowing that there are goats on the island is great news. I think we should think of building a pen and capturing some goats to keep for milk and meat. We wouldn’t have to hunt them then,” Charles observed. “It shouldn’t be difficult to come up with an enclosure back at our base.”

Thomas said, “That’s an excellent idea. I wonder though, how did goats and pigs come to be on this island? They are not native to this region, as far as I know.”

The answer to that question came the next day when the three of them found another lava tube. They ventured inside for several yards until they could not see farther. Then, when their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they went a bit farther in and discovered some debris. It was old boxes, barrels and what looked to be a crude bed. A bundle of rags lay heaped against a barrel and when Charles poked it, the rags fell over to reveal a skeleton.

Victor cried out in fear and ran back out of the tunnel. Charles was frightened, but he stayed steady, not wanting his friend to think him a coward. Thomas had seen death before and he said, “Poor fellow. Charles, this must be another castaway, like us. It seems he perished before anyone could rescue him.”

Charles pointed to a small book beneath the bony hand. He carefully picked it up, shuddering as the bones fell away from it. “We will have to go outside to read it,” he said. Meanwhile they checked to see if there was anything of use to be found. Two candle stubs were all they saw that were worth taking.

In the sunlight, they opened the book and saw that there were only a few pages that had been written on. It was the last log of Cyrus Miller.

Then there was a gap.

The three youths were moved by the dead man’s chronicle and took his writings to pass on to his family, should they ever have the fortune to be rescued themselves.

“Well,” said Charles, “That explains the animals. I wonder though, that we have yet to find any chickens or geese. I hope they survived as well. Eggs for breakfast would be a welcome treat.”

“Not to mention roast goose,” Victor agreed.

They made their way back to their base and related their adventures to the Wycrofts. Mrs. Wycroft made much over the pearls that Victor showed her and said that they were of great value. Upon hearing this, the other boys kept their pearls hidden, hoping to add to them and perhaps sell them someday.

That night, as they sat by a nice fire, Charles brought up his suggestion that they build a pen and try to capture some goats to domesticate. “There is plenty of bamboo and I think we can use it to make a sort of wicker fence. Even if we have no more than four goats, we can have enough milk to drink and perhaps even make some cheese.”

“Who will milk them?” whined Violette. “I hope you don’t expect me to touch such filthy animals.”

Her mother hushed her and said, “You spoke of geese. I thought I saw a goose yesterday, but I believed I must have been mistaken. Perhaps I was not mistaken. If we can capture some geese, we can clip their wings and keep them from flying away. Geese lay good eggs. I remember my father kept grey geese.” She looked wistful as she remembered her early life.

Thomas and Charles set about planning how to capture the animals using snares and traps. Thomas was the most familiar with local flora and he pointed out that there was a large stand of bushes known as sea grapes. They looked similar to the grapes that everyone knew but were more tart, and had large seeds. He believed that they might lure some of the geese if they spread a portion of the fruit nearby and then tried to trick them into a cage of some sort. The others were mostly skeptical, but the next day he set about contriving such an enclosure. While Charles showed the Wycrofts how to build a low fence with bamboo, Thomas cut bamboo and saplings and lashed together a pen that had a cover suspended over it. He kept the bars and horizontal slats close enough together, to prevent a goose from slipping through, but not so close as to appear threatening. It was not exactly square, but it was ten feet across and ten feet wide. He lashed bamboo across the top as well. Then he littered the area with dozens of sea grapes and piled a mound of the same fruit inside his cage, making them accessible from the open door. For three days they watched from a distance as one goose found the food. Later it returned with another, and another. Eventually, four geese were tempted into Thomas’ trap, and he ran forward and shut the door. Once the animals realized that they were not in danger, they calmed down.

Goats proved to be much trickier to capture and Charles solved that problem somewhat when he discovered a thick grass growing on an upper meadow that turned out to be a type of sugar cane. He cut a large bundle and brought it back down. Near the camp he hacked it up to release the sweet juice and spread it on the ground. Soon after he was rewarded as a young goat was drawn to the feast. Charles had made a noose on the ground and when the goat stepped inside it, Charles drew it taut and held the animal by the front legs. Thomas secured it and they set the trap for another goat.

All in all, things were going well for the six of them. The hard work and leadership of Thomas and Charles was being appreciated by the other four, but the Wycrofts at the same time, impressed the boys with their increasing willingness to work. They seemed to better understand the importance of cooperation for the benefit of all. No longer hungry and afraid, they even began to drop their pretensions of superiority. They didn’t go so far as to feel any real friendship with the boys and still thought of them as somewhat inferior, but not as much as before. This was especially true of Victor and Mrs. Wycroft.

By the time a month had passed they all were enjoying fresh meat, eggs and milk, along with good fish and delicious fruits. Everyone was amazed when Mrs. Wycroft killed and butchered a goat one day and put it on a spit over the fire. The blood and savagery of the act made her family’s jaws gape in amazement, but the boys grinned with delight. They complimented her, which made her blush and smile.

It was considered too difficult to try and keep pigs as they were so destructive, so the three young men would go hunting sometimes. Victor became adept at spearing them and had helped bring down two more. He no longer looked away when Thomas cut their throats. It was on one of their hunts that Charles made a mistake. Thinking that Victor had gone ahead, he stopped Thomas and kissed him on the lips. Their arms were wrapped around each other tightly in a passionate embrace when Thomas opened his eyes and saw Victor looking on in shock. They stepped apart quickly, but the damage was done. Their secret was out. They waited to see what Victor would do or say. He glared at them as if he had been betrayed and ran back down the trail to the camp.

Feeling a sense of shame, Charles and Thomas headed back to camp to face the music, to see what sort of welcome they would get. It was worse than they thought. The first to speak was Baron Wycroft, who took on his mantle of lordship to shout in an outraged voice, “How dare you deceive my family? Pretending to be Christians and all the while you are sodomites, hiding among decent people. You are probably the reason God sank our ship, punishing you for your disgusting sin. You’ve taken us down with you. I can no longer bear to look at you and I don’t want you near my family any longer. Be gone. I exile you. Depart and do not return.”

Lady Wycroft stood with her arms around her children, glaring at the boys as if they were dangerous monsters. For a moment, Charles and Thomas were shocked by the anger and vehemence that they were facing. Then suddenly, Thomas threw back his head and laughed loudly. He laughed so hard that the fear that had frozen Charles fled and he found himself laughing along with his lover.

“You ridiculous fools,” Thomas sneered. “You owe everything to us. You owe us your lives, you ungrateful bastards. We pulled you from the sea and brought you to safety. We fed you and made a home here for you. You are nothing without us. So what if we love each other. We didn’t expect it, but we are joyous at discovering our love. We celebrate it, and if you dislike it, then… go to hell, all of you.” He and Charles went to their shelter to calm down and plan what to do next.

After catching their breath, Charles said, “I don’t want to stay with these people any longer. We will be much happier on our own.”

“I know. You and I are going to teach them a valuable lesson. Without us, they won’t stand a chance of survival. We will go to the other side of the island and build a new house. It won’t be long before they come crying to us for help. I want to humble these fools and show them what the real world is like.”

The next day they loaded up the boat with half the camp’s goods. They took half the fishing gear, one of the two iron pots, most of the tools and other things. Then, without a word of goodbye, they rowed away, leaving their companions standing on the beach looking worried.

Later that day they landed in Pearl Cove, as they named it. It seemed to be a perfect place to set up a new home. There was fresh water from a small stream that fell from the cliffs into a pool. It was a good place to bathe. It was suggested by Charles that they build a tree house to live in. “I saw one once and it seemed to be a wonderful thing.”

Thomas agreed, wishing to make his mate happy, so they began to look for an appropriate tree. They found one right away that was large enough that the two of them could not reach around it. It had thick limbs that protruded at right angles from the trunk. The lowest were at least twenty feet from the ground, high enough to provide a good view of the ocean. “What do you think?” Thomas asked.

“I guess the first thing to do is make a ladder,” Charles laughed. That night they set up a camp and made a tent from their sailcloth. They made a supper of oysters and papayas and added to their collection of pearls.

Charles and Thomas were strong young men, vigorous and accustomed to hard work. They were not the sort to lie about idly, not when there was so much to be done every day. Each was determined to make his friend’s life better and as happy as possible. They sat and planned the tasks that needed to be done and the order in which they needed to be achieved. The days were blessedly long, and they were able to work into the evenings. For the time being, they lived on fish and shellfish while they constructed their tree house.

“I think that a floor is what we need to start,” Thomas said. “Then, when we get more settled, we can contrive a roof of some sort, and later, walls if we think we need them. Maybe for privacy. I have an idea for beds that I think you will like.” He took some of their sailcloth and cut it into eight-foot lengths. These he sewed, using an awl to pierce the fabric, and stitching with a bone needle, folding over the ends a bit. With lengths of stout cord, he made them into something he called hammocks.

“You passengers get to sleep in a bunk, but the crew sleeps below deck in these hanging hammocks. They sway with the motion of the ship, and they can be comfortable. Mainly, they keep us off the ground,” he told Charles as he presented his gift. Charles found them more comfortable than the floor of their previous hut, but he would rather have slept in his friend’s arms.

Thomas was becoming skillful with his bow and he brought down a few birds. Some were tasty, while others were not, being far too oily. Charles dragged a sea turtle from the surf but had no idea how to cook one, so he released it, regretting the loss of so much meat.

Eventually, the boys captured a pair of goats, male and female, which they hoped to mate. As before, they baited and captured a few chickens. Between making salt, building pens, gathering and hunting food, and exploring, the days passed quickly. Neither of the boys thought about their former companions very often or wondered how they were faring.

One day, Thomas looked worried. “There are dark clouds forming on the horizon. I fear we may be heading into the rainy season. Here in the tropics, that means hurricanes, strong wind and rain. They can be destructive. I think we should prepare for some weeks of bad weather soon,” he said.

Charles asked, “What can we do?”

“We have been avoiding the cave, but I think it is time to move the remains of poor Mr. Miller to a more proper site. He needs a Christian burial. Once we have moved him, we can shelter in the cave if things get really bad.”

And so, they spread out the old, rotting canvas that Mr. Miller had used for bedding and piled his bones and clothing on it. This they made into a bundle and took it to a pretty site nearby where they spent half a day making a cairn of stones over it as a memorial.

They prepared the cave for habitation by removing all of the broken wood and sweeping the floor with palm leaves. Twice, when they had hunted and killed a pig, they rendered the fat from them and stored it in dried coconut shells. Charles used abalone shells and a bit of thin braided cord to make oil lamps. The burning fat had an unpleasant smell and it smoked a good bit, but the small light that they gave off allowed them to go farther into the lava tube. Fortunately, there were no surprises back in there, so they felt it would be a safe place if the storms grew too fierce.

They stockpiled a good amount of firewood, as well as salted meat and fish. Charles had remembered reading about a method of smoking meat and so they had created a supply of goat as well. They moved as much of their goods into the cave as the clouds grew increasingly close and they could see lightning bolts flashing down to the surface of the ocean, even though they were still many miles away. Charles was becoming frightened.

It seemed to hit them all at once, the roaring winds and punishing rainfall that threatened to drown them and blow them away. They rushed to get the animals into the cave. The chickens had already been put into a cage, so Thomas carried them as Charles led the goats. The tree house was the first thing to be destroyed as the gale lifted it up and smashed it against the neighboring tree trunks.

They hunkered down inside, close enough to the entrance so that they could see the weather, but just far enough back to not be pelted by debris. Charles watched in awe as the storm raged and brought its destruction. It went on for hours, during which the boys sat huddled together with their arms around each other. Later they were tired, so Charles stirred up a fire and they slept by it for warmth.

Dawn brought silence and light. They arose and ventured out to survey the damage. There were tree branches broken and littering the ground, a few trees had fallen, and their pens would need a bit of repair, but things were not as bad as they would have been if they had not been prepared. Thomas’ foresight had saved them a great deal of misery.

“I’m sure we are going to experience more storms as well as periods of more moderate showers, so I think we need to keep our food supplies in the cave where they can remain dry,” Thomas observed.

Charles agreed, and asked, “Do you think we should go and see how the Wycrofts are holding up? I have a feeling they would not have taken proper care before the storm and they may be suffering as a result of their carelessness.”

“I’m certain you are right, and while I do not care for their company, I suppose it would only be the correct and Christian thing to do to see if they are alive.”

They set out for the other camp and had only gone a few hundred yards when they came across Victor, lying unconscious on the path. A broken tree limb lay across his back and his head was still slowly seeping blood, as if from a blow. They ran to him and saw that he was breathing so they helped him back to the cave. He revived as they were bandaging his head with a strip torn from a shirt. Victor said, “I tried to get here last night. Couldn’t you hear me yelling for you? The wind was so strong I could barely keep to my feet. I’ve never experienced rain such as that. I shouted for you to help me.”

“We wouldn’t have heard you because of the wind. Besides, we were in here,” Charles said. “Why did you come here anyway? I thought you hated us.”

Victor looked ashamed and said, “I am so sorry for what I did. Really, I am, and I hope you can forgive me. I don’t know why I reacted that way, except that, well, I had those feelings once for a friend. Those feelings frightened me and seeing you two kissing made me feel bad. I’m sorry.”

Thomas sighed and patted him on the shoulder. “Does your family still despise us?”

“Oh, no. No, not now. They’re sorry too. You don’t know what it has been like for us since you left. You were right, we cannot survive without you. Father feels ashamed and humbled, as do my mother and sister. Things were getting bad just after you left, and the terrible storm nearly killed us all. I-I want to ask if you will come back.” Victor looked and sounded so miserable that Charles felt quite moved.

“Are you able to walk back with us? We were just on our way to see how bad it was over there. Come on, I’ll help you,” he offered.

They made their way over downed trees and broken debris. It took quite a bit longer than usual, but when they got there, they were saddened to see just how much of their work had been undone. The livestock was all gone, their pens destroyed, the barrels and trunks that the boys had left them seemed to have been blown away. The Wycroft’s shelter was smashed and the sailcloth roof was missing. Even their cook pot was gone. It was as if no one had ever lived there.

The three family members were soaking wet and miserable. The baron wandered around aimlessly, looking lost, while his wife and daughter sat morosely by a fallen tree. Victor said, “Father, I have explained to Thomas and Charles how wrong we were to treat them so poorly. I am hoping to convince them to help us rebuild, although I fear we don’t deserve their help. Please help me apologize to them.”

The baron finally looked up and slowly ambled over to them. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders and with a great sigh he said, “Yes, Lads. I am truly sorry. I am. For the sake of my family I humbly ask for your help. Please come back.” Lady Wycroft and Violette pleaded with their eyes, hoping for a positive reply.

Thomas said, “Very well, we accept your apologies and we need never speak of it again. Charles and I love each other, and nothing can change that. You know very well that it is a common enough thing. For our part, we will be discrete so as not to upset anyone. Now, as for coming back, I suggest that for the remainder of the hurricane season you come to our side of the island. We have a cave there that has plenty of room for all of us and our livestock. It was the cave that kept us safe from last night’s storm. This period of storms is normal and occurs every year for several months. During those months we can stay on that side of the island and then return to this more pleasant site for the dryer weather. If you can make it to our camp, we will warm and feed you and let you rest. If the weather stays dry tomorrow, we can come back here to search for your possessions and perhaps some of the stock. Come now, it isn’t that far.”

They settled the Wycrofts farther in the cave and left them to recuperate for a couple of days. They were not seriously injured, except in spirit, and their bruises and aches soon dissipated. Meanwhile, the boys continued to repair their area’s fences and to search for the Wycroft’s scattered livestock. Victor joined them to help.

Eventually, the baron approached Charles and asked, “I’m not certain what I should be doing. Can you tell me where I may be of the most use? I need to be doing something to rebuild, but I don’t know where to start.” He spoke slowly, sounding confused and depressed. Charles almost felt sorry for him. He didn’t notice at first how strange it was that his former master was now asking for direction.

“If the rest of you feel up to it, I suggest that you go back and try to salvage anything you can find that is intact or repairable. Thomas and I shall be along to help, but I think you should pursue this endeavor yourselves for now,” Charles said kindly.

Even though the noble family had found themselves severely reduced in status by being marooned on an island, there was still a benefit that they had not noticed. Having been forced to become active after years of sloth, and by subsisting on lean, fresh meat and fresh fruits, they all lost some weight and gained in strength, and not just physical strength, but mental strength as well. They found themselves able to work harder and longer and they had an interest in doing the work well. When Thomas and Charles went to see about them that afternoon, they found that they had been quite productive. Victor found the sailcloth, which had been their roof, back in the jungle, only slightly torn, but rather dirty. Violette and her mother were washing it in the stream. The baron was walking down the beach rolling a cask that had been blown up against some rocks. He had found the cook pot half buried in the sand and dug it out. All in all, they had done well.

“I don’t believe that we have seen the end of these strong storms. They can happen again in this area, so it may be wasting our time to repair the pens just yet. I suggest that we build new ones on the other side and hold our stock there where they can be quickly moved to safety. Charles and I will repair the cages so that when we recapture the fowl, we can contain them,” Thomas said.

Rebuilding took some time, but eventually they did succeed and when the second storm came, it was not nearly as calamitous as the first. The castaways rode it out in safety. A change had come over the Wycrofts, though no one spoke of it. They slowly dropped their superior attitudes and began to treat Charles and Thomas, not just as equals, but as teachers, as guides. They looked to them for direction and smiled when the boys praised their efforts. They often actively tried to please them.

Life was not easy, but it was made more bearable by the mutual cooperation of the six of them. Still, everyone watched the horizons for signs of a ship. They still had dreams of returning to civilization someday. Then that day arrived.

Two years had passed and one day Charles was cutting some firewood when he looked out and saw a sail, far out to sea. It looked small from that distance, but he believed it to be a large ship. He ran to the camp’s fire and began to stir up the embers. Adding all of the firewood that lay at hand he stoked it into a nice blaze. When it was strong enough, he began to throw green wood on it to create smoke. Victor came running from the woods and Charles explained excitedly what he was doing, pointing at the sea. Victor began to call loudly for the others, who were scattered about doing their duties. Everyone began gathering wood to build the fire and make it more visible. Smoke rose high into the air and they clustered together, regarding the sails hopefully. They began to grow even more excited when it became apparent that the ship had turned toward them. Closer it came until it dropped anchor two hundred yards out. Then a rowboat was lowered, and several burly sailors rowed to shore. Everyone was eager, but also a little afraid, hoping that these were not pirates. Even though the ship flew the Union Jack, it didn’t mean that they would not be treated roughly.

Fortunately, though, it was a good rescue. They gathered up the few things that they wanted to take with them and were ferried to the ship. There were tears of relief and many handshakes and hugs from the survivors. A few days later they docked in Puerto Rico, where the boys disembarked and tried to decide what to do next. The Wycrofts found an English sea captain who was going to Jamaica and he agreed to take them, but for a fee. Their ragged appearance, shabby clothing and weathered hands and faces, seemed to give him doubt as to their claim of nobility, despite the way they spoke. Perhaps he would be paid when he delivered them to the baron’s brother, Eustace, or perhaps not. He asked for payment now. Victor remembered the handful of pink pearls that he still carried in his trouser pocket, wrapped in a cloth sack. He produced one and asked, “Will this suffice for our passage?”

The captain examined the gem and obviously liked it. “It will take more than one,” he haggled.

Victor produced another, and the captain said that it would provide space on the deck for them. Victor produced two more beautiful pearls and said, “We will take a cabin.” Thus, it was that they were able to barter a couple more for new clothing, so that they no longer had the appearance of ragamuffins. They were able to be united at last with Eustace and they easily slipped once again into lives of luxury and privilege. Seldom did any of the four give a thought for their young benefactors, and when relating tales of their survival they portrayed themselves as the clever leaders, bringing the others successfully through a most harrowing adventure. After all, that was just the sort of thing that nobles did.

Charles and Thomas longed to return to England. They each had saved their pearls, thinking hopefully that they might be rescued and would need some sort of funds. They too exchanged a couple of them for clothing and a room in an inn. That evening, having a fine dinner, Charles said, “I never realized how much I missed fresh bread and a good, aged cheese. This feels like a feast.”

“I missed beer,” Thomas laughed. Later, in their room they took stock of their wealth. Charles had fifty-six pearls of a beautiful pink hue, as well as twenty more of iridescent white.

“Do you think these will get us to England with enough to settle my father’s debts?” he asked.

Thomas grinned and said, “If not, I’m sure these will.” He tossed two bags onto the bed and emptied them. Not only did he have more pink pearls than Charles, he also had two dozen very large white pearls. The most surprising thing was that he also had a few dozen pearls of a deep black color. They shone in the candlelight and were breathtakingly beautiful.

“Where did you get those?” Charles asked in wonder.

“They were a surprise for you. I found another oyster bed that was much farther out. I had to dive to retrieve the oysters, but when I found that their pearls were black, I knew that I had to take the chance and dive for as many as I could get. I didn’t want you to worry, so I kept it a secret. These are the most valuable of all.”

They were unsure of the real value of the gems and so they only sold a few to buy their return passage to London. There they went to a shop and bought fine clothing of the sort that rich people would wear.

“If we go to a broker to sell these, while looking like we are lower class, they will try to take advantage of us and offer us far less than they are worth. We must look as if we are knowledgeable about such things,” Thomas said, and they sold a few dozen of their gems for a reasonable price. In fact, the broker was surprised at their fine quality.

In a short time, Charles was reunited with his father, who had not fared well in the dark confines of his cell. They cried and clutched each other in joy. Thomas was introduced and also received tears and hugs. The three of them moved to the lake district where they bought a small farm with a snug, warm cottage. In the fresh air and sunshine, with good food and exercise, the father revived quickly.

“You young men should not have to sleep in the same bed,” the father said one morning. “I can certainly sleep on a cot in the corner there and you can each have a bedroom. I don’t want to crowd you in your own home.”

Charles sighed and said, “Father, it is time to make a confession to you. I hope you will not be too aggrieved when I tell you this… Thomas and I are in love with each other and plan to spend the rest of our lives in an intimate relationship. That is why we share a bed.” He looked at the old man expectantly, waiting for a reaction. He and Thomas hoped for the best, but they would not be separated by anyone.

At last the father said, “Ah, so that’s it. Well, you’re both good lads, so good for you. Now, how about a nice cup of tea?”

The End

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The Admirable Charles

By Parker Sheaffer

Completed