The Island of Echoes: A Novel Read online

  “Ah, ladies!” the captain exclaimed, and we all rose from our seats. “I’m so pleased you could join us. May I bring you a glass of wine and perhaps something to eat?”

  “Wine would be lovely,” said Lady Pearson, “but our luggage contained provisions so we won’t require any food this evening.” They took a seat at the table. I was pleased to see Lady Ella take the chair beside mine.

  Travert walked, rather wearily, to the wall kitchenette and filled two glasses. I wanted to ask Ella what had brought her to Alexandria, though protocol deemed it too forward. I decided instead to strike up a general conversation in the hope that she joined in.

  “Captain, I noticed that it’s just you and Rémy working the ship. Are these vessels always staffed as such? I feel it must be a burden during long voyages.”

  Travert placed the glasses in front of our newcomers and retook his seat.

  “No, Mr. Laurence, we’re definitely an oddity right now. The ship used to staff a lot more. It gained a bit of popularity when it started taking on passengers. That’s when the fancy wood trimmings and details were added on. But that was another life, before I got a hold of it, and before it was called the Bigorneau.” He talked slowly and proudly, as if describing the accomplishments of a child. “We had another young lad helping us out, but he was an erratic youth from the start. We made port in Barcelona about two weeks ago and he left for the city and never returned. Cleared his room out and all. I’ve put a notice out in Marseilles and I’m hoping to find a replacement or two upon our arrival.”

  “Good help is so difficult to come by,” Lady Pearson commented and pursed her lips. She delicately picked up her glass and sipped her wine.

  “Well I wish you all the best in your search,” Ella added, her first words since boarding the ship. Her voice was delicate and musical, and it intensified the attraction I felt.

  “Are you ladies returning from holiday?” I finally summoned the courage to probe.

  “Family matters,” the elder woman said flatly. Ella bowed her head down and stared into her wine glass. I wondered what had happened in Egypt to cause such a strain, for the younger woman had been as quiet as a mouse. I realized that tears and not want of sleep may have been the source of her fatigued appearance. I inquired no further. Thankfully, the small talk around the table picked up again, though Lady Ella said no more.

  I sat back in my chair and stared out at the vista. My vantage point at the table provided me with a charming view to the aft of the ship. The dining room windows extended the length of the wall and I had been watching the stars and their reflections throughout the night. Except this time I could not see them. I rubbed my eyes to be sure, but the light was gone.

  “Captain,” came Rémy’s voice from the bridge, “you better come up here.”

  Captain Travert put his glass down and stepped out. I excused myself and followed out of curiosity. The waters seemed peculiarly still outside, but it was not at all pacifying. The sense of calm created the opposite affect within me. I disguised my prying as a desire to assist and followed the captain up the stairs. Rémy stood focused behind the wheel when we got to the bridge.

  “Yes, what is it?” Travert asked, but the young man simply pointed at the compass beside him. It stood nearly four feet tall and looked like a miniature table. An elegant brass piece, it was intricately detailed. Its legs, curved and decorated with floral scrolls, were bolted to the floor. I knew Travert picked it up somewhere on his travels, for it belonged aboard a luxury vessel a dozen times larger than the Bigorneau. And then I noticed the dial below its thick glass. It did not point north, but spun slowly counterclockwise only to stop and spin back again.

  “It’s been doing that for several minutes,” Rémy informed us.

  Travert frowned and removed his own compass. It resembled a pocket watch. He opened the lid and I glimpsed the needle spinning directionless just like its large companion.

  “Mark our position,” he instructed and stepped back out into the Mediterranean breeze. Rémy looked at me and gave a reassuring nod.

  “Storm approaching!” came Travert’s voice several seconds later. I left the bridge and looked up at the darkness overhead. The stars were indeed blackened out as I had thought. Rémy stepped out behind me and examined the horizon to the aft. The company below heard the captain’s call and likewise made their way on deck to observe.

  The odd calm which I noticed earlier disappeared in an instant. A heavy wind hit our ship like a physical mass and the vessel began to sway powerfully in the rising waves.

  “You had better get inside!” Travert announced and returned to the bridge.

  “Can I help?” I asked over the increasing wind.

  “We’ve got it covered up here,” the captain replied. “Not much room anyway. Go on below, Mr. Laurence, but thank you for the offer.”

  “Just let me know if you change your mind,” I answered and went down. Rather than proceed to their cabins, the others had instinctively collected back in the dining room. Strength in numbers, I suppose. Or, in our case, reassurance in numbers.

  I closed the door behind me and we retook our seats around the table. The lurching of the ship had gotten more intense and I hoped the repetitive motion wouldn’t upset my stomach. I knew my pride would take a beating if I were to excuse myself due to sickness. As if mocking my thoughts, it felt as though the ship jumped up thirty feet and came back down again. A handful of books fell off of the shelf on one of the walls and I could hear muffled shouting from the bridge above us. Another lurch. This time, all four of us grabbed the table and held fast. Father Daniel crossed himself and closed his eyes. More shouting from above as rain began hammering our little vessel.

  Ella gripped the tabletop with white knuckles. Her hand briefly caressed against my own and I looked up to meet her gaze. I tried to smile reassuringly but another heave interrupted our thoughts and we shut our eyes. I could feel my heart pounding.

  “Good heavens!” Lady Pearson cried. “At least the table is bolted down.” I had to admire her positivity. I was grateful for the brief intervals between the rolls of the ship.

  I don’t know how long we were in that little room. It could have been ten minutes; it could have been an hour. The wine impacted my sense of time. The bottle lay shattered in a small crimson pool on the floor. We remained silent until the lurching finally decreased and Rémy entered.

  “The waves died down, but the storm will go on for a bit longer. Captain says you should go to bed. There is no sense in staying here.” His English was much more accented than that of his uncle's.

  “As if I could sleep through this,” Lady Pearson chuckled.

  I nodded with a half-smile, but we followed Rémy out onto the deck regardless. I entertained the idea that the lurching may feel more like lulling once I stretched out on a mattress. Father Daniel appeared worst out of our group. Little red rivers ran through his eyes, which had now sunken deep into their sockets. He used the walls for balance as we made our way outside. Salt spray hit our faces though the rain seemed to have passed. I could barely make out the waves in the darkness. They appeared black and cold, like a thick murky pool tirelessly attempting to swallow our little ship.

  “Hold tight,” Rémy instructed. The railing was slippery.

  He was about to open the ladies’ cabin door when the waves of the sea died out as swiftly as they had come. The sudden lack of motion after a prolonged exposure to the high waves was extremely uncomfortable. My body continued to sway against my will as if the movement hadn’t ceased. Even the wind disappeared, though the darkness remained impenetrable in all directions. Rémy stopped and stared out into the obscurity. I saw Captain Travert step out onto the upper deck. I could tell from their confusion that the stillness was as unexpected to them as it was to me.

  And then it happened. The details are clouded in my mind but I remember the first burst of lighting well. It ripped horizontally across the sky above us. A thick vein of red and gold, which then spl
it into countless smaller tributaries. It lasted a second at most, but the image of a burning tree or system of rivers became engrained in my mind like the flash from a photographer’s bulb. Then the thunder came. It was neither deep nor rumbling. Rather, it was like the crackling of a fire. So loud that the ship vibrated in reaction. Another burst of lighting; another burning trunk splitting the sky, growing ever wider into a system of branches. The thunder hit again, like the cracking of a whip. It felt close and consuming.

  I didn’t have time to think before the sky erupted in lighting. The golden bursts came a dozen at a time and night turned into day. My hands instinctively flew to my ears as endless cracks of thunder turned into a roar. I looked down to avoid the intense brightness, for it was like staring directly into the sun. It was only then that I noticed the wood and metal of the ship glowing. It almost sparked, as if it was catching flame. The tremor in the floor beneath me increased until I was certain the ship would fall apart. And then everything went dark.

  CHAPTER THREE

  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.

  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. It had long stopped bleeding 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 barely opened before 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 no doubt returning, and nodded. I helped him up and we went to the others.

  I walked over to Ella, who appeared to be merely sleeping. 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 said, breaking etiquette, “are you alright?”

  She squinted in pain before looking up at me. “I’ll be fine,” she whispered. Her voice had also acquired a rasp. “How’s my grandmother?”

  I looked to Lady Pearson. Rémy was at her side and she sat up with a groan.

  “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 from 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, but I could just make out the outline of a mountainous rocky coast through the thick fog.

  “Where are we?” 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 graying beard. “Damn compass is still useless, pardon my language. I can’t think of where we could be.” We 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 benches beside the dining room windows 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 beside him and poured the liquid onto 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 the 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. “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 informed her. “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 suspect they didn't have a single garment without ruffles or ribbons. I went into my cabin to change as well, for what my suit provided in style, it lacked 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. 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. It seemed that their distress was not over our predicament but something else entirely.

  “You had better hope there isn’t a scandal when we get back” the elder woman proclaimed. “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 truth. The shock might kill him, you know.”

  “I mean, we may be making a mountain out of a molehill. We might draw even more attention that way. 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?”

  Lady Pearson sighed. “If only.”

  I heard their cabin door open. I quickly changed and joined the others out on deck. The ladies had fetched some extra food and blankets from their trunks and added them to our p
rovisions crate.

  “Wouldn’t it be better to wait for the fog to pass?” Father Daniel asked. “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 hill 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.

  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 than I expected. Rocky outcrops began to emerge like long dark fingers upon the water and I could distinguish more detail on the mainland.