In Dreams of Gold

The boy sat on the dock watching the Sunrise. The fishermen had just gone out for their day’s work, and there was nothing for him to do until the shops opened and people began to fill the streets of the small seaside town. Far out to sea, the light glinted from something with a golden sheen. It was too far away to make out any more than the occasional glimmer as the object moved about on the water, but as it grew closer, he was able to make out the shape of a ship. The sparkle of light was the reflectionof sunlight on the mast, painted a distinctive golden colour.

There was only one ship known for having its main mast painted gold, what was a pirate ship doing sailing straight into Port Royale? The crew would surely be hung the minute they set foot on shore, unless of course it was an attack?

The boy stood up quickly, unsure at first of what he should do. The last thing he wanted to encounter just now was anyone official who might ask why he wasn’t in school. Yet he couldn’t sit quietly and do nothing while pirates attacked the island. Surely the soldiers on watch would see the ship coming, and recognise the golden mast of the Prometheus?

Just then the warning bell began to ring. Someone else had seen the ship. With relief the boy ran toward the crowd which was suddenly gathering near the shore. Wives who had just seen their husbands off to sea and shopkeepers who had not yet opened their doors mingled as soldiers joined the throng in anticipation of the arrival of the ship. The big cannons were no doubt being made ready, but there was no battle offered.

As the ship came more clearly into view, the anticipation of danger gave way to confusion. There was no Jolly Roger flag flying on the mast, but a white flag with a red cross on it flapped in the breeze. A small boat was lowered from the side with just a few men in it who started slowlyrowing toward shore. The distress flag indicated that they had come to ask for assistance.

The excitement of the townspeople was not diminished by the relief. For a pirate ship to sail right into a port with a military base dedicated to eradicating the waters of the criminals was unprecedented. They had to be madmen, or very desperate. The boy found himself as breathless with anticipation as the adults surrounding him as his deft fingers loosened several purses, transferring them into the folds of his loose and ragged clothing. All eyes were on the approaching rowboat.

He wasn’t really a thief, the boy reasoned to himself. He did what he did because he would starve otherwise. Or worse, if the authorities knew about him, he would be put into an orphanage and starved by the institution. He saw the petty thefts as a way of redirecting the taxes that people would pay to support such institutions, while he enjoyed the freedom that the authorities would take from him unjustly for no other reason than their own need to feel that they controlled the destinies of all men. He would not remain a thief forever, but was in fact saving money in a secret place to buy himself an apprenticeship one day, perhaps as a carpenter or a blacksmith. Living in an orphanage would never allow him to learn a trade.

As the small boat landed on shore, the people found themselves helping to beach the craft. Immediately someone called for the doctor.

‘These are injured men, is the doctor here?’ There was only one doctor in Port Royale, although he had an apprentice. It was the apprentice who pushed through the crowd to answer the call. Recognising him, the man who had spoken directed the medic toward the worst of the injuries he had seen.

‘Look here Randolph, this man’s leg is gone and here, looks like a shark took a bite out of the side of this one.’

The doctor’s apprentice examined the wounds. There were four men in the boat altogether. The one who was missing a leg had it tied crudely. The first signs of gangrene were already apparent. The man with the side injury was bleeding slowly through a wrapping that didn’t entirely cover the bite marks. There was something odd about them, as they formed a crescent of evenly spaced punctures which Randolph would have guessed came from conical shaped teeth. Similar marks were all over the third man, who had dropped into unconsciousness, probably from loss of blood.