The Ophir (5 page)

The import of his choice, however, would not
be obvious until they neared the shores of England. The crew of the
Ophir and their gallant captain chose to become as the lamia. My
master agreed, but with one additional stipulation.

“I understand your position and I would agree
to a split, so we both have a fair chance of survival in our chosen
trade. But there is one more, simple request. You will not step
foot on land again. Fair?” The stipulation sounded more like a
suggestion than an edict with grave consequences.

My master knew that the Captain and his men
would either become or die. He also knew that if the Ophir’s crew
were to die so would he and his faithful few perish. The agreement
made, both men bowed to the other, but remained aware.

Captain Antonio once made the mistake of
assuming that a man’s word, or a gentleman’s agreement, was as good
as a bond, but that was not true in many cases when dealing with
men at sea.

* * * *

Before Captain Antonio had taken the Ophir,
he was Captain of The Cock’s Crow. He was young, brash and thought
he knew it all. He had headed a mutiny against the Crow’s original
captain, and then was voted in as the new captain when he convinced
the crew that he would lead them to riches never dreamed of. But,
it didn’t take long for the crew to see through his fantasies.

Within three months, another mutiny found him
all alone in the ships skiff, afloat at sea, with no land in sight.
He was given his pistol, a skin of water and a tin of biscuits to
help him survive. A piece of wire found beneath the seat was thick
enough for him to engineer a sail from his shirt with the use of
one of the oars. He used the sleeves to cover his head, face and
shoulders. And that night, through sheer luck, two flying fish hit
the oar and dropped into the boat.

The fish fat was used to coat his lips and
hands to protect them from the sun. He dried the flesh and stored
it for later use, just in case he was not able to find land or
lucky enough to have a ship find him.

He used the stars and moon to help him
navigate at night, he slept during the day covering himself as best
he could with his pants, which he removed and split open to add
width to the cloth. He was a rather comical vision to behold when
first sighted by the crew of the Ophir.

After a total of eight days at sea, the last
four were without food or water, Captain Antonio was delirious. He
crooned a little tune his father sang to him as a child, thinking
himself in his father’s arms.

His skin blistered from the direct sun, he
sat naked as a newborn babe with his pants now wrapped around his
head. When asked why he’d been put to sea, he responded that he had
“pissed on the Queen’s plant.”

The crew and captain of the Ophir attributed
the statement to delusion and dismissed him as harmless.

Chapter
Six

Juan Antonio Cardo de Patiño was born in a
thatch hut at the bottom of what was once a much larger mountain in
Spain. His mother, Seberina, died giving birth to a second child
two years later. His sibling died shortly after.

Antonio was orphaned when his father was
taken to Cabrera, a small island full of caverns in the Balearic
Islands off the East coast of the mainland, and banished for crimes
committed against the Caliph. Antonio Patiño was charged with
‘poaching’ on the Caliph’s land, a crime innocently committed. The
Caliph’s habit of changing the boundaries of his property on a whim
endangered any hunter or traveler in the area.

“You have been found guilty of poaching on
the Caliph’s property. Do you have anything to say for
yourself?”

“My Lord, I am a free man. The land you speak
of was once free. It belonged to the people, not just the Caliph.
Many of your people go hungry and try to provide for themselves
rather than add to the burden of our kingdom. I beg forgiveness. I
beg you to set me free to continue to provide for my child. If you
can find it in your heart to do this, I will forever be your
servant and do your bidding. I was unaware of the changes in
property lines. You have my word that I will never again set foot
within your boundaries.”

In an aside to his counselor, the king
whispered, “My heart tells me to set him free. My head tells me
that he must be made an example to others. What do you say?”

“No choice made by one of such wisdom can be
wrong. If you set him free, your people will know that you have a
good heart and follow you. If you mete out the deserved punishment,
your people will fear you and follow you. Only you can make the
decision, Patron.”

“Which makes me wonder then ... why are you
here?” The Caliph found the decision an easy one.

“As your Patron, I have made a decision which
will be best for the land and people of this realm. Antonio Patiño,
you are to be set free at high noon tomorrow. My useless counselor
will be hanged in your place. So be it!” The Counselor, Cardinal
Jesus de Benitez, fainted. His enemies snickered. The Caliph had
spoken, and so it would be.

* * * *

While hunting in the area, the Caliph heard
of the abundance of deer and wild hog still existing near the
mountain. He claimed it for himself, and hunting was outlawed. He
confiscated the land, burned the huts and placed the owners in
bondage or killed them on the spot.

Juanito, as his father called him, was
hunting rabbit on that day. His path took him far from home, and
his curiosity kept him from harm. Juan wandered up the mountain
farther than any time previous, drawn to the entrance of the Cuevas
Del Drach. His father often told him stories about the place; Juan
wanted to be like his father, an explorer of the unknown. Although
he never revealed his source, Juan now thought that his father’s
stories might have been based on experience more than hearsay.

“There once was a noble tribe of men that
lived far into the mountains in our great caves on the island of
Majorca itself, very near
Porto
Cristo
. It was a different world than one could see
on the surface. The opening of the cave was like entering the mouth
of the dragon for which it was named. It grew teeth from above and
below. They were first mentioned in a letter in the year 1338 to
the dignitaries of Porto Cristo, but it was much later that it was
given its name.”

“But Papa, why was it given that name? Did a
dragon live there? I thought dragons were mythical creatures made
up to scare children like me. Is that not so?”

“No. Not all. Some myths and many legends are
based in truth. The day will come, my son, when even
you
may
become part of the lore for children. Perhaps you and I will also
be famous one day in the stories that are told. People will hear
the story of little Juanito and his adventures at sea and say,
“That Juanito Patiño was one courageous fellow. He changed the
history of men forever. Quien sabe?”

“Asi es, Papa. No one can say. Tell me
more.”

“Of course. Where was I?” Juanito listened
intently and remembered everything his father shared.

“You were describing the cave.”

“Yes. Yes. The caves.”

“Some say that the bones found at the
entrance are bones left by the dragon of the animals he ate for
breakfast. But, farther in, you can find the bones of man mixed in
with the bones of animals too. That was what was left of his
dinner.

Men sometimes took shelter there. They
often painted the animals they saw or drew symbols to tell their
stories on the walls of the cave. Some never left the cave because
they were surprised by the dragon and eaten on the spot. The towns
people testified daily of his satisfied roar.”
Juanito
shivered.

“What else did the explorers find there?”

“They found two caves. One was white. One was
black. But, I have my own thoughts on the cave. I believe it is
even bigger than that. It is only the roar of the dragon that has
kept the truly brave from exploring its length. Someday someone
with courage and heart will explore further. When they do, I
believe they will find the dragon itself and proof that others have
been there before them.”

“How big is it? Can you stand up in it?”

“From what has been told. Yes. At least
ten
men on each other’s shoulders could stand and not touch
the ceiling.”

“Why do you think they called it The
Dragon”?

“The first tribe of men to visit the cave
had many thoughts on that subject. It was passed down that the
dragon’s voice could be heard at different times of the day and
night. It might bellow in anger. The triumphant screeching of
victory or even soft sighs of satisfaction might fill the sky, but
regardless of the emotions it expressed, it shook the earth and
trees like a terrifying storm. The rocks growing from the roof and
floor look like petrified teeth, teeth that could only belong to a
gigantic creature such as a dragon. The bones surely could only
have been left by one such as that, unless, of course, the men were
eaten by other men. Men were savage back then. But, the thought of
men eating men is too horrible to consider.

Personally, I believe his roar is heard
loudest when someone nears the treasure mentioned in fairy tales.
He is the guardian that defends the treasure against intruders. He
looks like a snake with bat wings, and is as long as the mountain
is tall. He has to curl his body in a ball, tucking his tail and
wings in to sleep. When in this position, he blends into the rocks
and different formations of the cave. There is much more to the
caves than is known. Intruders can get lost and die of starvation
if not eaten first by the waking dragon. One fellow made it out
after three days lost. His hair was white; he raved about an
underground ocean. No one believed his lunatic ravings, neither has
anyone tried to verify his story.”

“With such treasure, we could all be very
happy. We could help our neighbors, and never want for anything
again, no?”

“Si, chico. These are the things men dream
of.”

* * * *

Legend had it that a dragon still lived there
and continued to guard a magnificent treasure. Not long ago, bones
of humans were discovered near, and in, the entrance to the main
cave as proof. His intrepid curiosity saved his life when he
decided to see it for himself. Nothing would be the same after
that. The only dragon involved would be the one harbored by
man.

One version of the legend said that the
dragon’s roar could be heard late at night as it cried for the loss
and suffering of his birthplace, Majorca. Another said that the
dragon protected a great pirate treasure. Until the cave was
explored all the way to its origin, no one would know the
truth.

* * * *

Deep in the cave, his eyes accustomed to the
darkness and widened at the paintings left by an ancient tribe his
father told him about once. They were called the Magdas.

The magnificent paintings were in red, black
and ocher. The artist incorporated the natural relief of the rocks
to enhance his drawings, making them come alive. The paintings were
clean and the colors still vibrant. Bones of deer, wild boar,
horses and bison gave evidence that this cave was once attached to
the mainland.

Limestone deposits created a magnificent
Cathedral, which even the ancients did not wish to disturb. Great
columns rose from the ground to meet the fingertips descending from
the ceiling. Water gave a glistening effect and helped to
illuminate the floors that held the remains of sea urchins and
shells. This royal room must have been beneath the sea at one time.
The feeling you came away with was one of having visited a sacred
place.

Perhaps this was a gathering place for
different tribes, where they traded and bargained for needed items,
arranged marriages to insure tribal existence, worshiped their
ancestors and paid homage to their Gods. There was no way to know
for sure.

Knowing the inherent danger of caves, Juan
Antonio thought that perhaps he would come back with his father
someday, and they would explore its bowels together. If there were
any truth to the stories about the dragon protecting a great pirate
treasure, they would be rich.

If the truth was that it housed a dragon
saddened by the ways of the world, he could perhaps give it comfort
and lighten its burden. But his plans to come back with his father
would end abruptly upon his return to the area that once held his
home.

* * * *

Only ashes remained of the hut that held
everything dear to Juanito. His return should have heralded the
young hunter bringing home rabbits, squirrels and fowl for several
meals. Rather than elation, he experienced what felt more like a
blow to his stomach. He could not catch his breath; he gasped for
air.

Instead of sharing an adventure with his
father, he found himself alone and orphaned. He did what any boy of
eight would do: he dropped to his knees and cried until he could
cry no more.

He walked around in the ashes trying to find
a sign of some kind that would give him hope. His father told him
many times that if anything were to happen to him, he would leave a
sign if at all possible. Had he left him a sign? Juanito searched
until there was no light left. Whatever had happened, it was
swift.

Tracks left by horses circled the hut leaving
deep indentations where they reared and stomped. He found signs of
something being dragged away and blood on a large boulder. All the
signs could be read one way, and only one way.

Bolstering his determination, Juan headed for
the next nearest habitat; he wretched when he saw the remains of
Jorge Agillar and his family. But he was elated when he did not
find his father among them. Junaito prayed for guidance.