The whole crew had battled all night to keep the ship afloat, though it had
seemed a futile attempt. Seawater had flooded the bilge and Jack had
worked alongside the men frantically attempting to pump it out, but the
waters rapidly rose past the level of his chest. He had desperately fought to
control his panic. Drowning was a sailor's worst nightmare, a watery grave
where crabs crawled over your bloated body and picked at your cold,
lifeless eyes.
Jack retched over the Alexandria's side for the fourth time that morning,
remembering the way the dark brackish water had lapped at his chin.
Holding his breath, he had still kept pumping. But what other choice had
there been? Save the ship or drown trying?
Then fortune was on their side. They reached the safety of a cove. The
ocean had suddenly calmed, the Alexandria eased down and the water level
quickly fell away. Jack recalled sucking in the rancid air of the bilge like it
was the sweetest mountain breeze as his head cleared the surface and he
heard the heavy whomp of the anchor being dropped.
Recovering now on the quarterdeck, the pure sea air cleared his head and
his stomach began to settle.
Jack stared out to sea, her waves now gently lapping around the hull, the
roar of the tempest replaced by the early morning call of seabirds and the
occasional creak of the rigging.
He let his mind drift with the peace of it all. Within minutes a glorious
crimson sun peaked above the ocean to reveal a spectacular sight.
The Alexandria lay in the centre of a picturesque cove with a towering
headland that jutted out into the ocean. The bluff was swathed in lush green
cedar trees and red pines, and a glorious golden beach rimmed its inner bay.
The cove's emerald-green waters were alive with an ever-shifting rainbow
of coloured fish.
Jack's attention was drawn by something catching the morning light on
the peninsula. He lifted his father's spyglass to his eye to get a better look.
Among the trees stood an exquisite building that appeared to have grown
out of the rock itself. Jack had never seen anything quite like it.
Perched upon a massive stone pedestal were a series of pillars made of
deep-red wood. Each pillar had been painstakingly gilded in gold leaf with
images of what appeared to be dragons and exotic swirling symbols.
Resting upon these pillars were intricately tiled roofs that curled up towards
the heavens. At the very peak of the highest roof was a tall thin spire of
concentric golden circles that pierced the forest canopy. In front of the
building, and dominating the bay, a huge standing stone thrust up from the
ground. This too was engraved with the same ornate symbols.
Jack was trying to figure out what the symbols were, when he glimpsed
movement.
Next to the standing stone a glorious white stallion was tethered, and in
its shadow, barely reaching the height of the saddle, was a slim dark-haired
girl. She appeared as ephemeral as a spirit. Her skin was as white as snow,
while her hair, black and mysterious as jet, cascaded down past her waist.
She wore a blood-red dress that shimmered in the haze of the early morning
light.
Jack was transfixed. Even at this distance, he could feel her gaze. He
raised his hand hesitantly in greeting. The girl remained motionless. Jack
waved again. This time the girl bowed ever so slightly.
'Oh, glorious day!' exclaimed a voice from behind. 'One so much
sweeter for the passing of the storm.'
Jack turned round to see his father admiring the ruby-red disc of the sun
as it rose over the ocean.
'Father, look!' cried Jack, pointing to the girl on the peninsula. His father
glanced up and searched the headland.
'I told you, son! This land is gilded with gold,' he said jubilantly, pulling
Jack to him. 'They even build their temples with the very stuff…'
'No, not the building, father, the girl and…' But the girl and the horse
had disappeared. Only the standing stone remained. It was as if she had
been carried away on a breeze.
'What girl? You've been too long at sea!' teased his father, a knowing
smile on his lips, which quickly faded as if stolen by a forgotten memory.
'Far too long…'
He trailed off, gazing mournfully at the headland.
'I should never have brought you, Jack. It was foolhardy of me.'
'But I wanted to come,' insisted Jack. 'Like you said, to be the first
Englishman to set foot in Japan.'
'Your mother – God rest her soul – would never have allowed it. She
would have wanted you to stay home with Jess.'
'Yes, but my mother didn't even allow me to cross the docks without
holding her hand!'
'And for good reason, Jack!' he replied, the smile returning to his lips.
'You were always one to seek out adventure. You'd have probably jumped
aboard some ship bound for Africa and we wouldn't have seen you again!'
Jack suddenly found himself enveloped within one of his father's
massive bear hugs.
'Now here you are in the Japans. And, by my life, son, you proved your
mettle last night. You'll be a fine pilot one day.'
Jack felt his father's pride in him seep into his very bones. He buried his
head into his father's chest, wanting never to be let go.
'Jack, if you did spy someone upon the headland, then we had best
remain on our guard,' continued his father, taking the spyglass from Jack.
'Wako ply these waters and one can never be too vigilant.'
'What are wako?' asked Jack, pulling his head away.
'They're pirates, son. But no ordinary pirates. They're Japanese pirates,
disciplined and ruthless,' explained his father, scanning the horizon.
'They're feared in all places and have no qualms about killing Spanish,
Dutch, Portuguese and English men alike. They're the very devil of these
seas.'
'And they are the reason, young man,' interrupted the Captain from
behind, 'why we must make haste and repair the Alexandria. Now, Pilot,
did you get the damage report from the First Mate?'
'Yes, Captain,' replied Jack's father as he and the Captain made their way
to the helm. 'It's as bad as we feared.'
Jack remained close by, catching snatches of their conversation while he
continued to search the headland for signs of the mysterious girl.
'The Alexandria's taken quite a beating…' said his father.
'At least two weeks to get her into proper shipshape…'
'… I want the Alexandria seaworthy by the turn of the new moon.'
'… that's barely a week away…' protested his father.
'Double shifts, Pilot, if we are to be spared the fate of the Clove…'
'… dead to the last man. Beheaded – each and every one.'
The news of double shifts did not go down well with the men, but they were
too afraid of the Bosun and his cat-o'-nine-tails to complain. For the next
seven days, Jack, along with the rest of the crew, laboured like galley
slaves, the sweat pouring off them in rivulets under the hot Japanese sun.
While repairing the foresail, Jack found himself often gazing up at the
temple. Shimmering in the heat haze, it appeared to be floating above the
headland. Every day he had been on the lookout for the girl – but he was
beginning to think he'd imagined her.
Perhaps his father was right. Maybe he had been too long at sea.
'I don't like this. I don't like this at all,' complained Ginsel, rousing Jack
from his daydream. 'We're a trader ship with no sail. We've got a cargo of
cloth, sappanwood and guns. Any pirate worth his salt is going to know
we're a prize for the taking!'
'But there's over a hundred of us, sir, and we have cannon,' pointed out
Christiaan. 'How could they possibly beat us?'
'Don't you know nothing, you little sea urchin?' spat Piper, a thin, bony
man with skin that hung off his scrawny frame like dry parchment paper.
'This here is the Japans. The Japanese ain't no defenceless, bare-breasted
natives. They're fighters. Killers! You ever heard of the samurai?'
Christiaan shook his head in mute reply.
'The samurai are said to be the most deadly, evil warriors to walk this
earth. They'll kill you as soon as look at you!'
Christiaan's eyes widened in horror. Even Jack was taken aback by the
terrifying description, though he was well aware of Piper's reputation as a
teller of tall tales.
Piper paused to light his small clay pipe and sucked lazily on it. The
sailors all huddled closer.
'Samurai work for the Devil himself. I've heard they'll chop your head
off if you don't bow to them like serfs!'
Christian gasped… a few men laughed.
'So if you ever meet a samurai, lads, bow low. Bow very, very low!'
'That's quite enough, Piper! Less of your scaremongering!' interjected
the Bosun, who had been watching them from the quarterdeck. 'Now get
this boat shipshape – we must be ready to sail by sunrise tomorrow!'
'Aye, aye, Bosun,' the men all chanted, hastily returning to their duties.
During the night, there was a growing uneasiness among the crew. Rumours
about samurai and wako had spread like wildfire, and the watch had sighted
black shadows moving through the forest.
The next day, all eyes were fixed on the shore and, despite the coastline
remaining completely deserted, there was a feverish anxiety to the way the
men worked.
It was close to dusk by the time the Alexandria was fit to sail. The Bosun
called all hands on deck and Jack waited with the rest of the crew to hear
the Captain's orders.
'Gentlemen, you have done a fine job,' announced Captain Wallace. 'If
the wind is fair, we sail in the morning to Nagasaki and our fortune. You've
all earned yourselves an extra ration of beer!'
The whole crew let out an enthusiastic cheer. It was rare for the Captain
to demonstrate such generosity. As the cheering died down, though, the
watchman from the crow's-nest could be heard shouting.
'Ship ahoy! Ship ahoy!'
They all turned as one and looked out to sea.
There, in the distance, was the ominous outline of a ship… bearing the
red flag of the wako