Island of Echoes (3 page)

I awoke to a throbbing pain in my head. Even before my eyes opened, I could feel my cheek pressing into the solid wood floor of the ship’s deck. I sat up and rubbed my face. It was painful to the touch and I had no doubt that a bruise was ripening across it. My surroundings slowly came into focus. I looked out at the horizon, though I couldn’t see far. The storm left behind a thick fog which constricted the air and enveloped us in a cool humidity. Even the sun, high overhead, was only distinguished by a slight lightening of the haze. It must have been past noon.

My companions were likewise sprawled across the floor beside me. They appeared unharmed though I was most concerned for
Rémy
, who lay face down on the iron staircase. My head pounded as I crawled over to him. Each heartbeat conveyed a fresh rush of pain through my forehead. I turned him over to reveal a gash on the side of his face. His blonde hair was streaked dark around the wound. Luckily the bleeding had already stopped and, aside from an emerging bruise on his forearm, his injuries appeared contained. I shook him for quite some time before his consciousness returned. His blue eyes opened slowly and he winced in pain.

“Phillip,”
he
finally whispered, his voice hoarse and dry.

“Yes,” I answered. “How do you feel? Shall I get you something to drink?”

Rémy
propped himself up on his elbow, his other hand extending to the side of his face. I reached out and gently stopped it. “It looks like you were thrown against the stairs during the storm,” I explained. “Let’s clean it up and bandage it.” He gazed up at the staircase, the events of the previous night returning, and nodded. I helped him up and we went to the others.

I walked over to Ella, who appeared to be sleeping calmly. Her brown hair had come undone and was lying in locks against her neck. I knelt at her side and placed a hand on her shoulder.  A gentle shake roused her from her slumber. Her eyes opened though the jade sparkle within them was gone, replaced by bloodshot fatigue.

“Ella,” I whispered, breaking etiquette, “are you alright?”

She squinted in pain before looking up at me. “I’ll be fine,” she responded softly. Her voice had also acquired a rasp. “How’s my grandmother?” I looked to the Lady Pearson. Rémy was at her side and she sat up slowly.

“She’s fine,” I assured her.

The others were dazed but unscathed. Captain Travert seemed least affected, a slight headache being his only side effect of the night’s events. The
Bigorneau
was still and silent. With the engine off, all we could hear was the creaking of the wood and the hum of the sea below. We stood and scouted the area. Travert came down from the bridge deck and walked the perimeter of the ship looking for damage. He was on the starboard side of the vessel when we heard his excited voice.

“Land!” he called out, and we made our away around to see. The haze was no less impenetrable on the opposite side, though I could scarcely make out the dark outline of a mountainous rocky coast through the thick fog.

“What is it?” I inquired.

“Land here?”
Rémy
pondered aloud. “We couldn’t have been blown that far. Uncle?”

Travert shook his head and squinted at the landmass, stroking his salt and pepper beard. “Damn compass is still useless, pardon my language. I can’t think of anything it could be...” He trailed off, lost in thought. The rest of us continued to stare out as if the answer would appear before us.

“
Rémy
,” Travert broke the silence with renewed energy, “get that forehead taken care of. We need to assess the status of the ship.”

The young man nodded and proceeded aft. “I’ll help you,” I offered, and followed.

Rémy
took a seat upon one of the cushioned chairs beside the windows of the dining room and retrieved a medical box from behind it. “We don’t have much,” he said “but this should do.” He removed some gauze and alcohol.

I sat down on a chair beside him and poured the liquid into a bandage. “This will probably hurt a bit.”

He flashed a bright smile. “I’ve had worse, believe me.” I pressed the bandage to his cut and dabbed several times. He winced at first, but the pain died down as I continued. The cut appeared better than I expected once the dried blood was cleaned off.

“It’s actually not so bad,” I reassured him truthfully. I wrapped a piece of gauze around his forehead, tightly sealing the wound.
He
thanked me and left to join his uncle.

I put away the medical box and spotted the broken wine bottle on the floor. I scooped up the glass shards, though the wine left a stain in the flooring. Despite the chaos of the previous night, there was little damage to the room. I noticed that most of furniture was held down in some way. It was then that I heard a commotion from the deck.

“What do you mean, stranded?” it was the elder Lady Pearson’s voice.

“I’m sorry, madam,” Travert
responded civilly. “The engine must have overheated during the night. The damage is severe and we don’t have the tools to repair it.”

“Well this is simply unacceptable,” she struck her cane against the wood flooring. “What are we to do? Float here for eternity and hope that help comes along?”

“Rémy and I will make for land,” the Captain answered more sternly. “I’ve dropped anchor and the
Bigorneau
has an auxiliary vessel. We will pack provisions and head for shore.”

“I will join you,” I offered, stepping out on deck. The Captain gave a small smile and nodded his thanks.

“We will come as well,” Lady Pearson quickly added. “There certainly is no point in waiting here helpless.”

Travert hesitantly agreed.

He and Rémy began to pack a crate with food and supplies. The ladies excused themselves to change into something more sensible, though I don’t believe they owned a single garment without ruffles or ribbons. I went into my cabin to change as well, for what my suit provided in style, it took away in mobility. I was pleasantly surprised to see my water pitcher still in one piece. I refilled it and proceeded to freshen up when I heard heightened voices from the ladies’ cabin beside me. I’m proud to say I did not put my ear to the wall, though I did stop my movement to try to make out the muffled words. I was surprised to hear that their distress was not over our predicament but something else entirely.

“You had just better hope there isn’t a scandal when we get back” the elder Lady Pearson stated harshly. “I can only imagine what the newspapers should write.”

“Stop it, grandmother. What’s done is done,” Ella responded, her naturally soft voice making her words more difficult to hear. “This delay might give us just what we need.”

“What do you mean? We were supposed to get home before your father finds out. The shock might kill him, you know.”

“I mean, we may be making a mountain out of a molehill. What if we should arrive to see that word has not gotten out at all and we are free to proceed with life as usual?”

“If only,” Lady Pearson said bitterly and I heard their cabin door open. I quickly changed and joined the others out on deck. The ladies had fetched some additional food and blankets from their trunks and added them into our provisions crate.

“Wouldn’t it be better to wait for the fog to pass?” Father Daniel inquired. “There may be a port visible from the ship.” He had reluctantly joined the party when it was revealed that the rest of us would be leaving.

“Perhaps,” the Captain agreed, though his voice betrayed doubt, “but I haven’t the slightest idea where we are and higher ground will offer a better view once this passes. I aim to get to the top of that cliff and scout our surroundings.”
His words had a finality which the priest did not rebuke.

The boatmen loaded the provisions crate into the auxiliary craft and lowered it into the water. They each slung a rifle over their shoulders as well.
Rémy
climbed down first and attempted to steady the rope ladder as the rest of us took turns descending. The little vessel was built to seat ten, so the six of us fit comfortably with our trunk.

Although the descent was toiling for the elder woman, Father Daniel had the most difficulty getting down the ladder. I offered him some less restricting clothing from my own trunks but he looked upon me with cold scrutiny. “I wear these robes with honor, young man,” he said bitterly, “and they have carried me through far more difficulty.” I looked away without a word for I felt like a youngster being chastised. The presence of the ladies somehow made it worse.

Each of the men took an oar and we paddled toward the misty peaks. I was secretly concerned that the fog created an illusion in which the island was farther than it appeared. The shapes could have been distant mountains or nearby cliffs. One could not know for certain without a reference. I was grateful when they turned out to be the latter. In fact, we were much closer to land that I expected. Rocky outcrops began to emerge like long dark fingers out of the obscurity and I could distinguish more detail on the mainland.

“There,” Travert pointed. I followed his finger to what looked like the golden thread of a beach. It was small, but it would serve us well.

We began to turn starboard to make for the spot when something above me caught my eye. I looked to the top of the stony cliff. It was pure white and it almost blended in with the fog entirely, but there could be no doubt that at the edge of the precipice stood a great ancient temple. Eight massive columns rose up out of the mist to a classic triangular roof. I was too far below to make out any of the carvings but the building looked impeccably preserved.

“Look!” I exclaimed, and my companions quickly spotted the structure. It loomed over us, commanding both awe and respect.

“What in heavens!” the Captain bellowed. “Why, I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“The Greek isles don’t have a building like this?” Lady Pearson asked.

“Unless it was built in the last few weeks, certainly not. I know Greece like I know my own hand and I’ve never seen this building before.”

Rémy
looked uncomfortable. It appeared we were all in uncharted waters.

“Well let’s head there after we land,” Father Daniel suggested. “It might be a good place to start.”

“Right” Travert agreed, and we continued to paddle toward the beach. I stole several more glances at the temple. It faded in and out of the fog until we got so close to the cliff that I could see it no longer.

Rémy
jumped out of the boat as we approached shore and pulled it onto the sand. The beach did not extend far, perhaps half a mile, before it was cut off by another rocky outcrop. The rest of our party stepped out and we dragged the little vessel into the trees beyond the shoreline. Dense foliage covered the steep terrain in all directions away from the beach. We had to grip tree branches as we made our ascent up the slippery rocks. The heavy fog moistened everything around us and the world felt cold and wet to the touch.

Ella appeared strong and lithe despite her constricting garments but the same could not be said of her grandmother. Lady Pearson had many difficulties getting up the slope. I suspected her to be in her late sixties. I imagine she was also a stranger to physical exertion. But whether out of pride or determination, she kept her struggles quiet.

I suppose it took us over an hour to make it to the top of the cliff. The edge of the precipice was no less than two hundred feet above the sea. The provisions trunk, which Rémy and I carried together, added to the delay. The ground leveled off at the top and we were able to walk freely. The grass was thick and green underfoot and I saw elegant trees scattered throughout the open field.

The imposing temple stood some distance away, its large shape outlined in the mist, and we walked there in silence like moths attracted to flame. We soon spotted a road coming up from somewhere farther inland. It curved toward the temple and led right up to the front steps. The path appeared to be made of granite cobblestones. They ranged in colors from maroon to terra-cotta, creating a patchy texture of assorted red hues. They were perfectly level and tightly fitted, as if the road was built yesterday. But we realized the stones were something else entirely when we stepped onto the path. They were not wholly solid and shifted with our weight, depressing ever so slightly as we walked. Our footprints marginally pushed the walkway down only for it to return to its original state after we stepped off.