Short Stories - Volume 1

Native Claim

The journal was full of entries which were rarely finished, most of which were addressed to his girlfriend back home. 'Dear Mary' was how each started. He began writing down the events of the last two days; he paused noticing that the ship was no longer moving.

"Ready the longboats," the captain ordered.

Two bulky sailors with torches were carrying a large chest; they lifted it into one of the awaiting landing vessels. Moments later, another two sailors with an even bigger wooden chest climbed into the second longboat. The marines marched in synchronization and came to a halt in front of General Flengton. A line of red, white and black all standing upright, rifles pointing toward the sky, had assembled ready for their mission. Fletcher took a head count of thirty.

  Flengton boarded the first boat followed by ten marines. As they were being lowered, the first mate came running over panting with a coil of rope and slung it into the boat nodding at the general. The captain waited until the first boat hit the water, before climbing aboard the second vessel. Once again another ten marines joined.  Fletcher handed his rifle to a marine and hoisted himself in; slowly the sailors on deck lowered the boat towers, to the water. Fletcher wondered why the third squadron was not yet loading into the third unoccupied boat.  By the time they hit the water, Flengton and his entourage had disappeared out of sight. The two sailors had taken up ores, and were slowly moving through the unnaturally dark water.

 Fletcher was nervous, and the bad habit of grinding his teeth had uncontrollably set in.  Examining the rifle, he tried to recall the last time he had used one.

"You won't be needing that," said the captain, as if he knew it would be a wasted shot anyway.

Fletcher put down the rifle, but still kept hold of the new pistol he had wedged into his belt. At last they had reached land alongside the other longboat, which was still occupied by two marines.  The captain took a torch from one of the marines and jumped into the water without hesitation. He turned and pointed at two marines ordering them to stay behind. Everyone else climbed out into the shallow water and made their way to the rocky surface.  The captain looked at the ground. A rope coming from Flengtons longboat disappeared in to the heavy fog. The squadron marched single file into the unknown following the rope. Fletcher hated that the ground was wet and slippery. He could barely stay on his feet, and to make things worse they could barely see a meter in front of themselves, so the group stayed close. Fletcher cringed every time the Marine's boots struck ground, they echoed much louder than they should have and would easily give away their position.

The captain came to a halt next to a small semi circle rock wall to the left of their path.

"Take a break."

The sailors dropped the chest down with a large thud stretched out their arms and sat down on the wet surface. The marines didn't sit down instead they stayed alert. Fletcher took this as an opportunity to observe his new sword; he had never seen such brilliant craftsmanship.

"When we get to our destination, the sailors and Fletcher will fill the chest," the captain paused for a moment, then looked at the marines, "myself and the marines here will keep watch," he was still a little uncomfortable giving orders to marines. 

Fletcher sat fidgeting and grinding his teeth. He wished the break would finish so they could finally get to this great-unknown point of interest. He was both scared and excited to see what this whole trip was about.

Suddenly the captain drew his sword at the approach of shadows and sounds approaching through the fog. The marines aimed their rifles blindly in the same direction. Everyone stood on edge. Before Fletcher could draw his sword a familiar face emerged.  General Flengton's scarred face, always made Fletcher cringe, and for the first time since they left home he saw the General smile. The tension that had ensnared them had died off.