The Mariner

Much to the Mariner’s increasing frustration the four beasts responded to her call instantly and allowed themselves to be picked up and placed in the boat. Each in turn snuggled down obediently, looking up at the sour Mariner with a smug expression on their fox-like features. “Bloody stupid names.”

“Arf!”

“How do you think it came back?” McConnell was asking questions again as the small row-boat finally hit the shore. It came to a jarring halt as it slid up the short beach, a generous portion of wave spilling over the stern.

The Mariner shook his head at the reverend’s question, professing ignorance.

“But you brought it didn’t you?” McConnell’s eyes searched the Mariner’s face for an answer. “Grace said you remembered and then it appeared?”

“I didn’t—,” the Mariner stopped, not wanting to share the revelations he’d felt, yet wanting the conversation to end. “I was remembering something else. I’ve never been to a zoo before.”

What could he say? In that moment, standing upon the dock of Sighisoara, back turned to the burning remains of his one chance at rehabilitation, he had not remembered the zoo at all. He’d been remembering… what? Intimacy? Love? Whatever it was, he struggled to recall it now.

“You’ve never been to a zoo?!” Grace exclaimed, listening despite running up the beach. She shook her head disapprovingly. “Oh dear, oh deary me.”

The four accompanying devils each hopped out of the boat and began sniffing about the sand, leaving criss-crossing tracks as they scouted. McConnell helped the Mariner drag the boat further up the bank to a spot where it would be safe from the tide. The reverend fell silent, worried and disappointed by the Mariner’s lack of clarity.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!”

“Grace!” the Mariner snapped, his anxiety once again surfacing as irritation. He lifted a finger to his mouth. Shhh.

The island was quiet, but not silent. A constant chatter of birds filled the canopy, their light chirping disarming, and although the young girl’s plea had been startlingly loud, she’d failed to interrupt the chorus. High above, a parrot dressed in glorious reds and greens glided lazily, totally unperturbed by the island’s new guests.

That’ll soon change, the Mariner thought as he looked from the bird to his devils, who left long trails of drool beside their paw-prints.

The sand bank was small, no more than a short break amidst large outcrops of boulders, straddled by decaying vegetation. Further inland, the sand petered out into dry brown shade, beneath tall leafy trees and beyond them were the first cages Grace had spoken of, bars stretched out like spiders legs.

Suddenly, rising up through the canopy, echoed a chortling insane scream, lingering somewhere between a laugh and a wail. Fuelled by adrenaline, the Mariner drew his Mauser, pointing it into the shadows, searching for whatever madman had caused the sound. Only after squinting rapidly through all possible ambush points, did he notice his companions had made no similar reaction; Grace raised an eyebrow as if he were the one insane, and McConnell thinly concealed his mirth.

“It’s just a monkey.”

“A what?” The Mariner remained alert despite feeling increasingly foolish.

“A monkey, you know, oooh ooh ooh!” Grace turned her arms around until each reached into an armpit and hopped from foot to foot. Now it was the Mariner’s turn to presume madness.

Grace continued her impression, much to the confusion of the devils who were watching her with with interest, backing away as if she were an erratic echidna.

“Are they dangerous?”

“Not usually.” McConnell patted the Mariner’s shoulder. “I think you can put your gun away.”

“He’s right, you know.” The voice came from the rocks to their side and surprised even the devils. A man in grey robes sat watching them, stillness disguising him throughout their arrival. “You won’t need a weapon here.”

“Who are you?” The Mariner stepped forward and pointed his gun at the robed fellow. McConnell moved quickly to Grace, protectively putting his arms around her.

“Do you make a habit of entering people’s homes and demanding to know who they are?” the stranger asked, completely unconcerned by the gun aimed at his head. “Surely it would be more appropriate to first introduce yourself?”

“Do you make a habit of pissing off those who are armed?” the Mariner snorted, though equally this further threat failed to draw any reaction other than a patient smile.

It was McConnell who broke the stalemate, stepping around Grace and approaching the grey-robed figure. “I am the reverend McConnell, and this here is Grace Tetrazzini. We are from Sighisoara, the town this zoo used to be a part of. This man with us is the captain of the Neptune. We have come in peace and in the spirit of exploration. We mean you no harm.”

“I am pleased to meet you, reverend.” The robed man stood up and looked at each in turn. “Young lady. Captain.”

“Hi.” Grace gave a hesitant wave, but the Mariner refused to lower his guard.

“Who are you?”