Port Augustine
1796, The Spanish Main
It was one of those days when the heat was so hot nothing could be done but either to sleep or swim. Ariane, Katie, Eliza and Dessie had joined forces and gone to the waterfall. It was hidden in the green, but if you knew which path to take it took only five minutes from the Freeman farm to reach it. Now they were there, jumping happily into the cool, perfectly certain of being unwatched since most people in Port Augustine thought the place bewitched and filled with ghosts and old spirits of the dead.
As young girls the four had dared each other to go to the waterfall, and touch the waterfall’s lagoon-like pool with their toes. It was the ultimate sign of bravery, until one day, Dessie pushed Katie in and in their terror all four fell into the water and found that there were no ghouls in the deep. The flashes that wavered were in fact coins of little worth, some corrugated but most still showing their Spanish sign. By the time they stopped collecting they had almost five hundred of these small copper coins, and there were still many more left. After Ariane found the gumption to show one to Father Claireborne, his surprise made him talkative, and so she found out that long before Port Augustine had become English, the Spanish had settled there and obviously thought the pool a type of wishing well.
Since most of the Spanish were Catholic, and now most of Port Augustine was none the like, this wishing was attributed to ‘papist superstitions’ and so the myth of ghosts and ghouls began.
Since then the four had free licence to go and swim there, and sometimes other children would dare and join until their parents found out and forbid them to go, but that did not matter. Katie, Dessie, Eliza and Ariane were all delighted to have the water to themselves, since that meant they could strip themselves of their dresses and jump naked into the refreshing cool, surrounded by cascades of greenery. The best place to jump from was the waterfall, which would splash against their backs before they dove in deep, deep enough to snatch another copper flashing on the pebbled ground. The water was very clear, all could see to the ground without squinting, and if one could hold one’s breath long enough, even a child could dive down like a fish.
It was much the same this day, Ariane and Katie took to diving, while Eliza and Dessie splashed and swam about, all four laughing at and with each other, playing their old game of fetch-the-coin, which meant throwing a copper into the water and then doing one’s best to retrieve it before it landed on the ground below. Ariane did just this, saw the copper drop in a low arch into the deep, then plunged into the water like a knife, kicking and swimming underwater until she grabbed the coin, turned and propelled herself upwards with one powerful kick of muscle to the surface, holding the copper triumphantly in her fist. This continued for some time, the laughter and the young happy talk, all four glad and grateful to have a reason to postpone their duties at home.
*
It started slowly. Very slowly, like wind brushing over her skin, first not even a breath, then a gust, then a right breeze, faint but still very tangible. And finally it was there, the acutest sensation of being watched. Ariane had just climbed onto a boulder again to dive into the water. She turned her head and looked into the surrounding green as if called. At first she only saw. After realising what it was that she saw, her heart skipped several beats. Then it began racing. Ariane could feel the thud in her chest, the thundering in her ear. Her first impulse was to jump down and snatch her dress, but it was quickly quelled by a second, more prudent thought. If she ran to the dresses without a warning, the others would know something was wrong. So Ariane climbed down again, her heart beating against her ribs. She saw her friends swim and dive, and announced, a little meekly, that she was leaving.
She walked as steadily as she could to the pile of dresses after she spoke the words. She quickly found her dress and pulled it on, tying the bands clumsily. Her hands were not steady. During all this, Ariane was aware of being followed by a silent unrelenting gaze, almost as if hands were touching her, invisible and hardly tangible but still very there. She finally tied everything in place and put on her slippers. Eliza was the first to understand that she really did mean to leave. Eliza, whose Mistress was a strict but fair woman, Eliza looked genuinely disappointed, even angry that Ariane would break up the fun so soon. ‘Come on, Ria! Not now!’ she called, and Katie and Dessie quickly realised what was happening. Both asked her to stay a little longer, they still had time yet. Ariane shook her head. She explained she had promised to help with tea, which was no lie. ‘I don’t want to run back to be in time. I’ll just get sticky again.’ Katie asked if she would be all right going alone, otherwise she would come with her, but Ariane knew Katie wanted to stay as long as possible in the water, so she shook her head. She anyway could not have another with her. By some force that was not her own, Ariane knew that she would have to be solitary on her return.
Goodbyes were said, Dessie splashing Ariane’s feet with water and all three laughing at Ariane’s feigned annoyance, wishing her a good day and greetings to her mother and Father Claireborne, which Ariane promised to give. She turned then, her heart racing painfully now. She turned and walked along the hidden trail towards the Freeman farm, five minutes that she would be to herself, five minutes during which, Ariane was sure, something decisive would happen.
*
After the first fifty steps, Ariane started to look about herself. She had somehow expected that something would happen the moment she stepped along the trail. But all was silent, except for the usual rustle and drip of the green about her, tall, broad leaves heavy with sunlight, and all else over grown and obscure within. She continued, holding onto the small gold chain around her neck, a gift from Father Claireborne for her eighteenth birthday that was just a week past. It had a small golden cross pendant, beautifully delicate, and to Ariane very precious. She wore it night and day, and held it whenever she prayed. Just as now. She could think of nothing but the Lord’s Prayer and repeated it over and over, looking about herself, stopping suddenly, when she heard something loud crash beside her.
Her heart was almost in her throat, her ears full of the racing beat. She waited, standing solitary in her slippers and muslin dress, her hair still pearling with water, a black corona about her head, but nothing happened. Ariane walked on, starting with Our Father, which art in Heaven. He stepped out just then, right before her. Ariane did not shout nor scream. She simply stopped as she was, clutching the cross of her chain tighter.
The first thing she noticed was that he was clean. His shirt was white and his coat a smooth black cloth. His breeches were dark, and there were boots, real, leather boots, well-worn, yes, but definitely of some quality. The hair was shorter and starkest black. His eyes no longer looked faded but were as green as the foliage overpowering all life about her. She could also see the face. If it would have been part of one of those icy gentlemen in the main port, men who were tied up with scarves and bright waistcoats and whose boots shone a mile off, it would not have looked out of place.
They stood like that, face to face, for long seconds. All other sounds save Ariane’s heartbeat and breathing vanished. She watched as she was being watched for a long minute. A cleanly shaven face, features not only even, but the kind Miss Carla from the taylor’s would have approved of. He was younger than she thought, not even thirty by the look of it, and by his build and stance genuinely in good health. And this was to be the person who terrorised the coasts with his ships and men. There was gold at his left ear, a ring puncturing his earlobe, and she saw something reach up past the collar of his open cotton shirt.
It looked black, painted. She had seen such things on those sailors that came to Port Augustine. It was said it hurt immensely to make them. Ariane could not think why one would do that to oneself, but the man before her did not look like someone who would shy from pain.
He did not look like anything Ariane knew, now that he was clean and looked human. He was neither like an officer, nor in fact like those icy gentlemen in the bright waistcoats in the main port; nor like the sailors down at the pier, nor like the salesmen and townspeople who kept to themselves so well. He looked like something utterly foreign, even outwordly, something that could not be from what she knew. Ariane stood as she was with a heartbeat that filled her whole body. She did not know what to think. Why would he be here, now, at this place and hour? Why stand across of her and stare at her as if she were something in a shop window he wanted to purchase, yet did not have the means? Ariane had seen that look on many children when standing before the baker’s window, staring at the boiled sweets set on display. It was the same look the man had, and Ariane felt how it made goose bumps spread across her skin.
The man moved, Ariane jumped. She felt a hand on her wrist, the same powerful grip and saw how he lifted it, prying the clenched fingers open. He lifted his other hand and she saw something escape the raised fist, the fingers loosen more and something bright and flashing drop out, first a chain, reminiscent of her own, only of a far purer, deeper gold, dropping in all its splendid length into her palm, held open by his hand. Finally a pendant followed, and a stone, the greenest and largest cut stone Ariane had ever seen, encased in gold. It fell heavily into her palm, which was closed by the large hand. And then he let her go. There was silence. He smiled, a quick, mischievous flash of a smile, darkly amused. Then, in a breath, he was gone.
*
Ariane did not know all was over and done until the rustle of greenery ebbed to silence. She turned, but all was a wall of green before her, and the trail was empty except herself. For a moment she just stood and felt her heart beat on. Then, step by step, hesitantly and full of bewilderment, Ariane walked on. She walked in silence, her right hand clutching the cross, her left clutching the green stone, the gold chain wound up like a snake inside her palm. She walked and walked, faster and faster until she was almost running, and then reminded herself to be calm and not show any agitation, for if anyone saw her like this, there would be questions. Composing herself just before she reached the fork in the trail to the Freeman’s farm, Ariane slipped the heavy chain into the sole pocket of her dress, but could not stop from clutching her cross until she reached home, doing her best to walk into the kitchen as steadily as possible – her mother was already waiting impatiently, and without a glance ordered her to cut up the onions, it was getting late.
It was such a wrenching return to normalcy, that at first, Ariane simply stood and stared at her mother. ‘What are you waiting for, Ariane, Mr Turlington’s coming for tea, you know that,’ Mrs. Bellamy frowned at her, which was enough to return Ariane to her actual life. Officer Turlington. Officer Turlington who spent the last year looking and looking, but he found nothing. Though he was surprised that the coasts near Port Augustine were so quiet. All other ports and shores were repeatedly beleagured by attacks, but at least twenty sea miles around Port Augustine, all was quiet. Officer Turlington spent almost every visit to Father Claireborne puzzling over this. He was getting letters from other officers, even a Commodore, requesting to explain how he, Lt. Hayworth Turlington, had managed to create and sustain such peace. Now, Ariane thought she knew how, but how tell the officer? It was not even to be thought of.
‘Zut alors, Ariane! Stop idling! I need those onions for the skillet!’ Ariane returned to her own life, tied the apron about herself, and took up the cutting knife, though even as she stood at the cutting table and wiped and sniffed the tears away, she couldn’t forget the heaviness in her pocket, and the sharp edge of the pendant that continuously hit her thigh.
© 2014 threegoodwords
three good words 