Black Ceremonies (8 page)

“We heard them before we saw them. Drawn by the beating of drums, and the wailing sound of horns fashioned from conch shells, we discovered that the unnatural buildings were as nothing as to those that lived in them.

“They were men, I suppose,” Crawford shuddered, “at least some of them were. But they were the ugliest race of men I have ever seen. Their features reminded me of fish, frogs, seals and turtles. They had scaly skin, greyish-green in colour. And the bulging eyes, and gills, Father.” The old sailor was becoming agitated.

“Most had gangling arms that ended in webbed hands. But some had tentacles instead of arms. I swear!” Crawford had risen and was pacing around now.

“They were bad enough, but worst of them all was—” Suddenly the mariner wailed. “God help me, but it should not have been possible. Father, he was at least eight feet tall, and he wore yellow robes and a real fancy crown on his octopus head. I think he was their king, or maybe their high priest.”

“Octopus head?”

“That’s right, Father.” He grasped hold of me; put his face close to mine. Madness shone in his eyes, but I managed not to recoil from him. “Eight slimy tentacles protruded from his hideous face. Imagine it, Father. Just imagine it!”

Abruptly his mood changed. He loosed his grip and stepped back. He looked at me slyly. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Suddenly, he reached for his bag and rummaged around in it. After a moment he pulled out a bundle wrapped in a piece of tattered yellow cloth. “Well, just you take a look at this then,” he said, unwrapping the bundle to reveal an ostentatious piece of jewellery.

It was a crown of sorts, tall, and bejewelled with a mixture of pearls and diamonds, and a jade figure of some loathsome octopoid idol.

I had never seen the like before, and it occurred to me that it would take great skill to wear it balanced upon the head.

“Here,” my guest said, “you’re a priest – you try it on.” Reluctantly, I tried to do so, and I could not get it to sit right. It was as if it had been specially designed for a particular person, an individual with a most peculiarly shaped head indeed.

“You see?” Crawford said eagerly.

“It’s an unusual piece, I’ll admit.” But it did not mean his story was true. Yet, on the other hand, where else could he have got it from?

I studied the crown closely. I am no expert, but it certainly appeared to me that it was of great value. But as I did so, I shuddered. I suddenly felt quite repelled by the item. I knew without question that it was unwholesome, and I quickly handed it back.

“It is an evil thing, my son,” I told him. “You would do well to be rid of it.” I was quite relieved when Crawford covered it again, and returned it to his haversack. He then sat down again and continued his tale.

“It was plain that there was a ceremony going on. But it weren’t orderly, like your Catholic ceremonies. No sir, Father, it was a racket of grunting and croaking, squawking, groaning, howling, screeching, shrieking, yelping and baying. A right awful din that no man should have to hear. Yet, I still hear it, when they are close.”

Crawford paused in his narration to listen. “They are coming for me. They are coming for me!”

“Calm down, my son. No one can take you from God’s holy house. You are safe here.”

Eventually he grew calmer and I asked him to recommence his account of what happened on that strange South Sea island.

“When they spotted us, they fell silent. Then a group of them came to meet us. And we were escorted into the heart of this weird gathering.

“I said that the maidens of the first island could not speak English. But they sure could communicate with this bunch. We watched, and they bowed full length on the ground before these Atlantis folk, or whatever they were. Reluctantly, we knew we better do likewise.”

“Atlanteans,” I said.

“Eh?” Crawford frowned at the unfamiliar word.

“If this was indeed Atlantis – and that name will suffice for want of another – they would be Atlanteans,” I explained.

“Oh, right. Well, whatever they were, the priest-king motioned for us to rise, and then beckoned my Nia forward. Already shocked by what we had seen, we were in for a further surprise when we realised what was in store for us.

“Obediently she went to him, then knelt before him. Again she was commanded to rise. And then this priest or king, whatever he was, reached out and caressed her with his arm. It moved like a snake, like it had no bones! First it touched her face, and then her body. I knew what their priest-king intended. Can you believe the disgust I felt, Father?”

He did not wait for me to reply.

“Well, it got lots worse once I saw that Nia was more than willing to partner this freakish thing. Around us, the other women were finding partners among the monstrous creatures, and it was obvious that they expected us to do likewise, for there were females among this ugly race.

“Well, there was no way I was willingly going to lie down with any of them heathens. And one look at my companions told me they were in agreement.”

“It is often too late when we realise the error of our licentious ways,” I said, but I do not think he heard me.

He went on, “All of a sudden Ali went berserk. The queer buildings and repulsive statues had already put him ill at ease, but to be confronted with the living reality, and the realisation of what was expected of us – well, it must have been too much. He pulled out his meat cleaver, and with a crazed yell he started laying about with it.

“I drew my cutlass and joined in, hacking and chopping, whilst young Jake swung his fists. It took them by surprise, by God! We were determined to fight our way out of there.”

“You mean you attacked them without provocation?” I was astounded. “But that’s monstrous.”

“Aye! Monstrous! Indeed they were, Father. Such things should not be. They fought back with tooth and claw. And I was near throttled when one of them wrapped his tentacle-arm around my throat.”

“Whatever their appearance, they were still part of God’s creation,” I protested.

“But they were heathen savages.”

“They may have been ignorant of God, but surely they should have been given the opportunity of conversion. A good missionary could have brought them the word of the Lord.”

But Crawford was not paying attention to me. In his mind, he was back on the island and reliving his experiences.

“I grabbed their leader, and that gave them pause. I had my blade pressed against his scaly skin, and I told my hostage to call off his followers. He croaked out something that caused them to keep their distance. They held back a short while, but soon they came hopping and scrambling after us. I think they were not used to moving about on land, and they certainly found running difficult – so, even with the burden of a hostage, we were able to outpace them.

“We made it to the canoes; Ali pushed one out to sea, whilst Jake holed the others. Jake then took charge of our prisoner, and I cut down the first of the islanders to reach us.

“But I realised that, even though we had rendered the other craft useless, it did not matter. I was sure that the islanders would swim after us. We needed to delay them somehow.”

Crawford held his head in his hands. “Poor Jake,” he moaned. “He gave up his life so that we might get away.”

“How did it happen?” I asked.

Crawford seemed reluctant to speak of it. “It pains me to remember, Father.”

“Come now,” I chided, “if your companion bravely gave up his life, he at least deserves to have his noble act recounted.”

I had expected to hear of the young sailor’s heroic sacrifice, but what the sailor said next left me stunned.

“Well, it were a drastic act, but I did the only thing I could think of – I clobbered Jake and left him senseless on the beach, hoping that one of us would appease them.”

It was a shocking revelation. One that caused me to swear, “Good God, man!” I was incredulous. “You left your friend at the mercy of enraged savages?”

His next admission was to have me shaking my head in disbelief.

“I would have left Ali behind, too, if I could have, but he was already in the canoe and had seen what I’d done to Jake. Besides, I needed him to row.”

“Why, your actions make you more of a savage than these so-called Atlanteans. I pray to God that they showed your friend more mercy than you did!”

Crawford sniffed. “Even if they didn’t kill him in revenge there and then, but kept him for their original purpose of mating with one of their women-kind, then I doubt he would have lived much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“It didn’t occur to me at the time – the mere thought of those female Atlanteans was bad enough. But I later realised why there were no men on Nia’s island.”

“I don’t follow you, Mr Crawford. What do you mean?” I asked again.

“Well I reckon them females bred like the praying mantis, and after mating they killed their mate.”

I said a prayer for poor Jake Webster. Then the seaman continued his tale.

“I could see some of them still meant to pursue us. But there must have been one of them Atlanteans that realised that this was an opportunity for it to seize power for ’imself. For there was a blast on a shell horn, that stopped those that had dived into the sea. A croaked command followed and they returned to the shore.

“My prisoner was furious and began to struggle. Whilst on the shore the Atlanteans picked up poor Jake and returned to their city.

“The canoe was rocking and I feared we would capsize. The priest-king had momentarily got the better of me, when Ali struck him with his meat cleaver.”

“It was a lethal blow, no doubt.”

“Oh aye, it were lethal all right. Ali had had plenty of experience of using his cleaver, he knew just where to chop; he didn’t need to kill the Atlantean.”

“I do not condone the taking of another man’s life but in doing so he saved yours.” I had the unchristian thought that Crawford’s was not a life worth saving.

“Well I was mad you can be sure – I had been on the verge of regaining the upper hand. And you see it was my intention to take my prisoner back to civilisation,” the sailor grumbled.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised by your lack of gratitude, Mr Crawford.”

“I could have earned a pretty penny displaying him in a freak show,” Crawford complained.

“I couldn’t even keep the body – there being no way of preserving it. It corroded quicker than you’d believe possible, and boy what a smell.” Crawford’s expression was one of disgust.

“You said yourself that the Lascar was unable to cope with the existence of this strange race. Did you really think the three of you could make such a journey together?”

Crawford did not answer, so I tried another question. “How long were you at sea?”

“Days, weeks, months, who knows? I lost track of how long we drifted.” Crawford sighed. “Alone, adrift, so long without food or water. Never once coming in sight of land, or a ship of any kind. I thought God had truly forsaken me. I was on the verge of giving up hope; I don’t know how much longer I could have survived. And then one day I spotted a ship. Never was I so relieved to see that ship. Rescue at last, thank God.”

“Pardon my interruption, but what happened to your companion?” I asked.

“Eh? What?”

“You said you were alone. What happened to Ali?”

“Oh, Ali, yeah, well, Ali.” Crawford paused, considering. “Well, I’ve told you this much, I might as well tell you the rest. You see Ali, he were in a sorry state.” Crawford shook his head. “A sorry state, no mistake, well, we both were, if truth be told. There was no way we was both gonna make it like. It was a long time before that ship turned up. And there was no point in us both dying, were there? He weren’t gonna make it, and there was no point in me dying of starvation now was there? And there was no way I was ever gonna eat fish ever again, not after what I’d seen on that island.”

“What are you saying?” I gasped.

Crawford’s sudden grin was maniacal. “You could say, Father, that for once in his life Ali served up a decent meal. Best food I ever got out of him.”

I was aghast. “Mr Crawford, Are you saying what I think you are saying? I despair; you are a truly despicable man. It will take a great deal of thought to decide upon a suitable act of penance for you to perform.”

My thoughts raced. I felt sickened by much of what the sailor had admitted to me. But how much truth was there to his wild story? Was he really admitting to murder and cannibalism?

I thought there were inconsistencies to his tale, and I doubted that he had told me the whole truth. Indeed, I half suspected that I was the victim of an old sailor’s tall tale.

No doubt he had seen some wild things on his travels. But was Crawford suffering from some sort of madness brought on by the distress of being ship wrecked? It was also evident that he had too strong a liking for rum. Did he suffer from drunken delusions?

And yet he did have that curiously strange crown. How else could he have come by it, I wondered. Piracy perhaps.

Crawford interrupted my thoughts. “You will let me spend the night here, won’t you, Father?”