Prologue As you descend to the Mariana Trench, at approximately halfway down there is total blackness. However, at the sea floor, a pillar of rock oozes hot, toxic gas making the temperature at that benthic region as warm as 39 degrees Fahrenheit. These are ideal conditions for the fearsome beast which once inhabited the Mariana Trench. For indeed, a monster lived here. Soft serpentine rock spewed by the underwater volcanoes was not the only thing with the characteristics of the snake. For this was, for thousands of years, the lair of Murdock’s Cryptid, ancestral mother of the soon- to- be- discovered Lochness Monster. Its body and skin camouflaged perfectly within the trench’s subduction zone. It is no wonder, therefore, that in the single exploration trip that was made, it was never sighted. But in 1910, someone was about to unleash its terror on the Seven Seas. November, 1910 The sun blazed hot in the sky as a small band made their way along an unbeaten path, in the heart of Palenque, Chiapas. The Mexican Revolution was nearly underway but an infernal soul schemed, risking the lives of his men for a chance at what he considered a prize. It was more accurately, a price. This lost soul wanted the power of the Mayan rain god, chaac. But for this he needed to invoke one of Mexico’s greatest leaders, for he needed the netherworld authority obtained thereby to summon the rain god’s extreme power. And so he intended to call from the underworld one of the most exalted rulers, Chan Bahlum, whose name means serpent jaguar. Sweat beaded on the foreheads of the men as the group pushed on and on. At long last, they came to an array of structures and their leader cried, “Halt!” One of the men sank down to the ground. He had had, about all that he could take. Another mopped his brow. They all looked, expectantly towards their ‘jefe’. They watched, anxiously, as his lightless gaze swept over the collection of what they finally recognized to be temples, then “Aha. The Temple of the Cross. Start digging.” It had been around high noon when the men began, but it was only when the evening shadows fell, that they were allowed to stop. “We camp here for the night.” The voice rang out. The hirelings didn’t need to be told twice. The next morning dawned bright and clear. One of the men asked another what he was having for breakfast. But their relentless master declared, “Digging time!” It was another day of back- breaking work. Needless to say, the “Boss” did no digging. Villagers passing the site threw furtive glances at the men, but they could not stop their excavating. Eventually, as the sun waxed orange in the west, a fellow called Emesto, heard his shovel clang. —¡Ven aquí!— He cried out, excitedly. —¿Qué ha encontrado?— (“What have you found?”) The master demanded. Soon, his lust was satisfied. Five men hauled the remains of a what- must- have- once- been- glorious coffin out of the bowels of the earth. For the next 18 days they journeyed on foot, resting at intervals; all the way from Palenque, Chiapas to Chichen Itza, Mexico. The roads were dusty and the going was slow. When it seemed that they had reached their destination, —¡Dejar de caminar todo el mundo!— was heard. ‘Jefe’ had said stop. And they were, unsurprisingly, all but burnt out. It was, once again, high- noon. Another man, named Abelino, asked, “Boss, where we go now?” The boss glared at him. In full view was one of the most remarkable structures Abelino had ever seen. He had lived most of his life in a very different part of the state and so now stood, as if in a trance, before El Castillo, Temple of Kukulkan. A snake slithered in the grass at Abelino’s feet. He jumped. His master laughed, wickedly, and addressed the tiny group. “We must travel few more miles to Sacred Cenote. There, you shall rest.” The majority of the party went on tiredly, but most agreeably, in high expectation of ‘sueño’. They arrived at the well. Then the assemblage watched transfixed as their trusted ‘jefe’ rapidly removed a rifle from his backpack. “Now,” he goaded, silkily, —¿Quién será mi primer sacrificio?— The men blanched. Temple- of- Kukulkan, December, 1910 A lanky black man with a beady, brooding gaze watched as his mistresses entertained him. One was taller than the other, with caramel skin and long, blond hair, a combination which he found absolutely charming. The other was shorter with cropped, dark hair, and cream skin. He called the former ‘Sashia’. His second muse he liked to call ‘Katey- Raikes’. She was much more… Ferocious. But he liked them both. They were the premiere in his limitless domain. And this afternoon, like most afternoons, they were doing what they did best. Sashia began to sing. “Why Don’t You Love Me…Love me…love me…” echoed throughout the internal chamber of the stone pyramid. Then Katey- Raikes began to gyrate. So he leaned back on his padded, silk- draped, wooden lounge chair, just beginning to enjoy himself, when his eye alighted on the antique mercury thermometer stationed overhead. He was tremendously displeased with what he saw. To the consternation of the performers he jumped up. Then he robed himself in an expensive Batik dressing- gown, and stormed outside. After he had walked for quite a- ways, he came to the Sacred Cenote; the ‘Well of Sacrifice’. “MURDOCK!!” He fairly screamed. There was no response. “MURD- OCKkk!!!” He cried again. This time, the water began to bubble. Very smoothly, a handsome face with West- African features rose, three- dimensionally, from its surface. The face bore a mildly amused expression. It attempted alertness. “Well.” A gurgling noise broke forth. “If it isn’t…” “Forget the formalities, Murdock. Now you tell me. Didn’t we have an agreement? I thought I had the hottest-“ “You did, didn’t you?” Murdock interjected. “But how could you, when the hottest could only be found in that country called “La Grenade”, “The grenade”, or, to be more to- the- point, “The BOMB?” The bandy- legged, beady- eyed black man frowned, unsettled. “What are you playing at, Murdock? You know I don’t like guessing games.” The face inhaled, then grinned, malevolently. The gushing noise grew louder and louder. Then, the Water- spectre projected in a booming, sinister voice: “On an island in the sun there lives a fair damsel. She is of European, Indian and West- African heritage. The White, or European, in her blood, has given her the strength to suppress maidenly desires, extreme as they would be because of the Black, African, in her lineage. Yet, she possesses the Indian as well, which creates in her an understanding of ‘Cycle’, and therefore a need for the fulfillment of it.” The words hung eerily in the air. But the phantom was not finished. “As long as she continues to deny herself she will be Holy. But the time will come when she will find, ‘HE- Who- Has- Suffered- Equally.’ Then, and Only Then, will she come into her own and wield the power to dominate the universe!!” The gushing of the water had risen to a thunderous pitch. “This power could not be granted to anyone. It is because of her unique, tri- unal ancestry that she was chosen. The Power to Control can only come when one has the Willingness to Serve. For Leadership is simply the Manifestation of Servitude. ” The aquatic apparition’s audience folded his arms, quite agitated. “Who- is- HE?” He spat out. The poltergeist grinned, lopsidedly. “Don’t you know?” It bubbled. “Think back, My Liege, to Guildhall School of Music, London, 1880. That should jog your memory.” And with a snigger of well- deserved triumph at the horrified look on the face that beheld him, the gurgling ghost submerged with a squelch. PART I Enter Sir Ralph Lexicon Canterbury Winter, 1910 The sky was a cool grey above as the snow fell lightly onto the packed streets of London. Shoppers bustled from Billingsgate to Smithfield market to Halton Garden, buying everything from fresh fish to diamonds. Yet for Sir Ralph Canterbury, it wasn’t just another day. In fact the weather outside couldn’t better describe the way he felt inside; cold, lonely and miserable. You see, Sir Ralph had a problem. It was as if he were the most notorious rake in town, but yet not one of the many women he had known had managed to capture his heart. Arriving on Queen Victoria Street, Sir Ralph quickened his pace. He drew his coat more tightly around him as the snow began to fall more heavily. He was on his way to the Black Friar, one of the most popular of all the recently erected pubs of London. He reached his destination at Number 174. Ralph glanced at his thick, longish black hair and otherwise handsome face in the glass at the front of the pub, then stepped inside. The air within the Black Friar was warm and thick, in contrast to the frosty day. As Ralph looked around he spotted whom he had been searching for; tucked away in a hidden corner of the pub were two of his best friends, Walter Holmes, a light- brown haired man of medium height and medium build, and Dominic Dreyfuss, who had a proper shock of dark- brown hair, was shorter and more portly. From this vantage point it was clear that Dear old Dominic had had, as usual, one too many mugs of beer. “Er, Ralphy! Ralphy old boy! Do come over?” Walter’s semi- hardened fingers motioned to him from the corner of the pub. Ralph broke into a smile. “Just bragging to this bloke over ‘ere about how awfully lucky I am; getting married next week and all… name’s Elizabeth. Sturdy lass.” “Yea,” Dominic piped- up, heavily. “That’s fine, Walter. Really happy for you, I am…” Ralph wiped a fleck of snow off his cuff. Walter looked slightly taken aback. He continued. “…Well, you know as I figure it, do the proper thing… have children and all…” Ralph sighed. “Yea,” Dominic slurred, “But I says to the chap, ‘Couldn’t be me…after all- HICCUP- I gave my time,- HICCUP- serving in the- HICCUP- er, the Bri’ish Army, yea-“ Dominic Dreyfuss began to convulse, blubbering. “Oh boy,” thought Ralph. “Dominic,” He tapped him on his shoulder. “Dominic?” Dreyfuss wouldn’t respond. “DOMINIC!” Ralph watched in agony as his longtime- friend slumped in a heap on the floor. Then he quickly retrieved a jug of water from a counter close- by, while Walter called out to Dominic, petrified. SPLASH!!! “whA…? What the…?” Dominic had come- to. Successful, Ralph marched back to the counter, and replaced the jug. As he returned, he found Dominic massaging his sopping wet beard. “Better?” He cajoled, grinning. “Aww, Ralph…I know,” There was the distinct sound of horses’ hooves clattering on the streets outside. “You’ve REALLY got to slow down on that liquor, Dominic,” He pulled a chair from the side of the counter and sat down next to his pals. “Oh, Ralph,” Dominic passed a hand across his mouth. “Always tellin’ me what’s best for me; you do your mother proud boy,” “So Ralph,” Walter cut across. “What’s up with you lately?” Ralph gave them both a measured look. “I’m leaving England.” Noticing the shock on their faces, he continued, ”You said, Walter, that you’re getting married. Having children and all. Well, you know I’ve done it. I’ve done it all. But I still haven’t found…her.” Dominic nearly choked. “You’re leaving England for a- a- MISSY? Can’t content yourself with all thee- um- variety of entertainment in London?” He waved a hand, madly. “Between you and me,” He nudged Sir Ralph, “There’s quite a bit o’ ladies- for- the- taking, if you know wha’ I mean,” He cocked an eyebrow. Ralph surveyed his friend, then placed a hand on his shoulder. “What?” He began, “Know ye not that he which is joined to an harlot is one body with her? For two,” Ralph lifted two fingers, “Shall be one flesh.” “Ah,” said Dominic, thoughtfully. “I see, I see…” He scratched his beard. “Well anyway, I can’t complain meself,… one thing I know for sure… the beer’s always good!” He lifted his flagon in a toast, then drank deeply. Ralph shook his head, chuckling. He tried again. “Dominic, wine is a mocker and strong drink is raging; whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.” Walter, who had been observing their interchange, placed his mug on the counter. It thudded as he did so. “Well, Ralph,” he sighed, “Er- looks like you’ve got your mind made up, old boy?” Walter’s light- blue eyes looked worried. “I’ve prayed about it Walter,” Ralph reassured him, “It’s time.” “Well you know I’m with you…” yelled Dominic, still chugging beer, “One- hundred and fifty- nine percent!” “Thanks, Dominic,” Ralph said, rising from the stool. He clapped a hand on his shoulder. “God Bless You. God Bless you, Walter, and my deepest compliments on your engagement.” Walter managed a smile. Ralph turned and strode out. “God Be with you, Ralph,” Walter hoped, miserably. Back at his once- beloved home on John Nash’s Regent Street, Sir Ralph Lexicon Canterbury looked his longtime- companion squarely in the eye and said, “Lightning- Bolt, it’s now or never.” The White Arabian Stallion whinnied in joyful accord. PART II Enter Lady Katrina Virginia Davenport St. George’s Town, Grenada, December, 1910 “Through Him, Wih- ith Him, Ih- in Him… In the unity of the Ho- oly Spi- irit, all glory and honour are yours, Almy- ighty Fa- ther… forever and e- ever.” Sister Eugenia Margarita’s crisp voice rang out. Lady Katrina Virginia Davenport crossed herself and rose, from kneeling, along with the Grenadian selection of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Cluny. “Amen,” she whispered. “Beautiful words, Sister Margarita,” said a mid- sized nun. “Thank you, Sister Anne,” the head Sister responded. “Inspiring.” added another, plumper one. “I do try, Sister Marie,” Sister Eugenia Margarita was a short, stout nun with a humble soul and a giving spirit. Katrina adored her. “Oh, Katrina” Sister Margarita began, as she ambled over to Katrina, “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Katrina, whom had been somewhat lost in her thoughts, responded after looking about her, as though she had been jolted, “Oh, yes, Sister Margarita, the sun… the sky…” “But The Lord is always so much better!” Sister Margarita assured Katrina, firmly. “Oh, yes,- God. Yes. Yes, He is… Bless His holy name.” On her way from the convent to the schoolyard, Lady Katrina was intercepted by one of the last persons on God’s green earth that she ever wanted to see; Friar Archibald Falcon. “Oh, dearest Katrina, how are you my child?” He kissed one of her hands. “I’m fine,” Katrina replied very quietly and reluctantly. “Yes, yes, of course… and your father would be so proud to see you spending so much time with the nuns, if he were, indeed, not detained, my dear. However, do know that in his absence I am fully available to take care of you…” Katrina cringed. “That’s quite alright, Friar Falcon, but I’m all grown up now; I can, indeed, take care of myself.” She returned, politely. “Are you sure?” He persisted. “Friar Falcon I assure you, I’m very sure.” She would not back down. “Well alright, if you insist,” he returned disagreeably. Then he turned and was on his way. Katrina let out a highly audible sigh. “All these men with high church offices; why can’t they just leave me alone?” She whispered, disgruntledly. “Lady Davenport, Lady Davenport!” With a start, Katrina realized that she had arrived on the nun’s school premises, where she also taught. One of her students was now running up to her. As she arrived at her side, Katrina noted that she was slightly flushed from the run. “Sophia, and how are you today? Comment ca va aujourd’hui?” “Ca va bien, Mademoiselle Davenport,” “Très bien, very good, Sophia”, Katrina congratulated her. Sophia smiled, obviously pleased with herself that she had accomplished the perfect French. “What are we going to learn today, Lady Davenport?” “You’ll see, Sophia. Remember, good things come to those who wait,” “Okay, Mademoiselle Davenport,” Then Sophia and her teacher walked amiably to class. Once there, Katrina unfolded the day’s lesson. “Alright, girls,” she began, “Who can tell me what we’ve learned in French for the term?” Sophia’s hand shot up, at the front of the class. “Yes Sophia,” Katrina responded patiently. “Please Mademoiselle, we’ve learnt how to say ‘good day’, ‘good night’, ‘where do you live’, “I live…’” “Thank you, Sophia, That’ll do. Katrina cut her off. Anyone else?” Katrina sighted another, more tentative hand. She smiled. “Yes, Giselle?” “Mademoiselle Davenport, we’ve also learnt how to say where we live, ‘J’habite, wherever’, ‘How are you’, and ‘I am fine.’” “Very Good, Giselle,” Then , to Katrina’s extreme satisfaction, she spotted a final hand. “Ah, yes, Monique?” “Lady Davenport, we’ve also learnt Days of the week and colours!” “Wonderful, class. And today we’re moving onto to the two most used Verbs in the French language, everyone; être and avoir.” The lesson and school day completed, Lady Katrina prayed with her class. When all the students had left, she slumped down in her seat at the teacher’s desk, weary. What was happening was that she was beginning to feel physically ill with the stress of trying to restrain herself from committing sinful, carnal acts, and the view outside of the fertile Grenadian landscape only added to her levels of extreme discomfort. Her father, who had served in the British Army but was now detained in Scotland, had told her that ‘She must be holy’. But with these recent insurgent feelings she wanted to cry. She wanted to die. She even wanted to hang herself. Would she, Could she become a Nun? PART III Ralph finds Katrina The Carenage, St. George’s Grenada, December, 1910 As the H.M.S. Regalia pulled into port, Sir Ralph Canterbury beheld, for the very first time, what was most indisputably the prettiest town in the West Indies. Nestled around a circular waterfront was an array of exquisitely uniform, somber- coloured buildings. The sky above was a perfect, bright, cornflower blue, in some areas streaked with white cotton, and a moist sea breeze blew most soothingly past him as he stood on deck. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, highly anticipating his oncoming quest. He was almost certain that an island with such a beautiful city, or heart was sure to be able to boast of a maiden with a heart that was equally as beautiful. After retrieving Lightning bolt form the hold of the cargo liner he alighted from deck. Thus he noted that the streets of this beautiful little island were not as packed as London’s, but that there was still some amount of obvious commercial activity. “Let’s make this quest just as fraught with uncertainty as the Crusades of the knights of the 15th century, Lightning bolt,” Ralph suggested, feeding the Arabian Stallion some tidbits of corn from the palm of his hand. Then he stroked the creature and mounted him. “Let’s be off!” The horse whinnied and began trotting in a direction that led from the capital to what Ralph would discover to be the centre of the island. Katrina always bathed in the waterfalls. They soothed her so. And this Saturday morning was no different. As she bathed, she frequently sang. And it was this that the adventurer heard. “What a beautiful voice, Lightning bolt. Shall we explore some more?” Here Sir Canterbury left the main road and ventured into the undergrowth. Having singled out the voice, he was then able to fully appreciate the sound of the rushing water: “And it sounds like there’s a waterfall around here as well, lightning bolt!” Turning a corner he came into full view of the bathing damsel. However, she had not noticed him as yet. With the skill of an experienced thief, Ralph Canterbury, slipped off of his faithful horse and began stealthily walking towards the maiden in the waterfall. He was lucky. Enraptured by the waterfall as she clearly was, he still had not come to her attention. Then, “Sir! You must turn around!” She gasped, catching him in mid- stride. Ralph grinned, putting his hands on what Katrina found were beautifully slim hips. “What if I don’t want to turn around?” He decided. “The view, ma Cherie, is far more entertaining in this direction.” He smiled, sending her into a state of nearly absolute shock. She looked frantically at her towel perched on a stone at one end of the falls. He picked up on what was at stake almost immediately. He smiled again. “Let me see, how about we do this diplomatically? That way we’ll become friends at the same time,” His ‘be- the- death- of- me’ dark brown eyes twinkled as he retrieved Katrina’s towel. Then he walked to the edge of the river, the steel tip of his boots advancing upon the shiny, wet rock. “I’ll hold this towel open for you, but I will close my eyes.” His witheringly wonderful wide mouth crinkled at the corners. Katrina ran a hand through her own long, dark hair, in a quandary. No man had ever had such an effect on her ever before. And regarding him standing there, extending such a knavish proposal at the same time, she was finding, to her dismay that the rushing of the water was no longer sufficing to cool the intolerable heat that burned inside her. So she needed to get out of this situation. Now. “Fine.” She blurted out, as venomously as she possibly could. As she rose from the water, the one eye that Ralph cracked open was pleased beyond all his imaginings. She was definitely a goddess, no doubt about that, with, Ralph hadn’t forgotten, a beautiful voice and therefore soul, to boot. Enfolding her in the towel, he turned her to face him. “Where is your carriage?” He demanded, calmly. Somewhat taken aback, Katrina pointed westward. It was a wrong move, for in a flash, the gentleman had thrown her over his shoulder and had begun to proceed in said direction. Her mind whirled “What are you doing?” She fairly screamed, yet the fertility of the landscape discouraged would- be resonance. “Don’t you trust me?” He responded, as cool as could be. “What are you doing?” She ground out this time. “Carrying you.” He informed her, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I assure you, Monsieur,” she bit out, “That I am quite capable of walking.” “Excellent, ma Cherie. Do enjoy the vacation!” “Put me down at once!” Katrina flushed. She began to beat against his back while she wriggled and squirmed over his broad shoulders. It became quite clear that she wasn’t going anywhere. “You know, my love,” His voice rang with fervent enjoyment. “I have to confess that you are driving me quite wild.” Instantly she desisted. He laughed. His laugh was… like MUSIC. Pure Song. It touched her in places which she had never even known to exist. Completely thrown, she began to fume. She was not going to be thrown off her feet literally And figuratively in the same sitting. It simply wasn’t going to happen! “Next I expect you’ll be wanting to vote, won’t you now?” Ralph added, presently. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Katrina inquired stubbornly. The issue of suffragettes was not one of Ralph’s favourite subjects, but he had struck a chord, as he had intended. “Just what I said.” He returned. He felt her stiffen. Here he bent to avoid a cavalcade of overhanging nettle and firmly placed a cool hand lightly over her derriere. It was like a nudge. She gasped. “Didn’t know you could do that, did you, my dearest?” He jumped over a ditch. “Monsieur,” She pleaded. “Can you please put me down?” Strong hands grasped her waist and capable arms set her on her feet. Startled, she blinked. His eyes sparkled as he surveyed her. “You’ve a question, ma Cherie,” he informed her, hands on hips. “One that I am no more disposed to answer, than I am to render your ladyship a trifle foolish,” She followed the direction of his wonderful eyes. They had arrived. At the carriage. Her heart plummeted as he now leaned in towards her. “Au revoir, Mademoiselle, it has been a pleasure…” Her lips trembled- His were barely an inch away… Then the gentleman turned and stalked off towards one of the most beautiful horses Katrina had ever seen. It stood majestically, tethered by a silken rope to the patchy trunk of an ancient grapefruit tree. It tossed its head as he approached it. He removed the knot and mounted the beast graciously. “W-Wait!” She found herself venturing. How could he just leave her- here? “I…I don’t even know your name,” she finished quietly. He brought the animal right up to her, and looked into her eyes. “Sir Canterbury. Sir Ralph Lexicon Canterbury. And now,” He nodded, rearing his horse, “I’m off…” Katrina didn’t know what was happening, but now that he had released her, she only wished that he never had. Sir Ralph Lexicon Canterbury saw the request in her eyes as she stared at him. “…Unless you’d prefer… to ride with me?” He smiled, holding out his hand. This time, she was able to return his smile. “I would love to.” “Get dressed.” He told her. “And you’re going to have to hold on tight!” Stretched out in comfort in some of the grass which surrounded what Ralph learned to be the Grand Etang Crater Lake, the knight had had to admit that he was having the time of his life. Katrina, as he had discovered her name to be, was by far the most entertaining woman he had ever known. She was, from her youth, incredibly well read and had recounted scenes and parts from books as old as “Alice in Wonderland” to as recently published as “The Wind in the Willows”. And it was clear that she had enjoyed herself immensely in doing so. Furthermore, as fate would have it, ‘Father William’, a poem from “Alice in Wonderland”, was one of Ralph’s all- time favourites. When Ralph saw the sun was ‘just so’ in the sky, he began to explain to Katrina his plight. “Lady Katrina I must confess that I am in a bit of a fix;” Her eyes communicated concern. “ You see I only got into this lovely island this morning, and so have not as yet a place to stay…” Katrina smiled. A genuine, beautiful smile; a smile that sang rainbows into his soul. “That’s alright Sir Canterbury. I’ve a town house. If it pleases you, you can stay the night with me.” As Sir Canterbury lay there in his breeches and shirt- tails, he thought he heard the faintest of noises. He started. That intermittent, persistent gasping was the pattern of someone crying. Katrina? Why on earth...? He sprang from the bed as he buttoned his cuffs and began to walk cautiously down the hallway. He did not know the decently sized town house that well, but an excellent ear for sounds led him in the right direction. Turning the second corner, he had found her. She stood, in a thin white nightie, with her body braced within the window’s alcove. One knee was propped up on the ledge and the rest of her frame sagged against the wall. One arm was folded, clutching her waist, and the heel of the other was pressed against her forehead. She bit down on her lower lip shuddering. The whole scene made it very obvious to Ralph that she had been trying very hard not to make a sound. In one swift movement, Sir Canterbury had gathered the girl into his arms. Katrina instinctively flung hers about his neck. “Sir Ralph,” she whispered, painfully, “Thank you,…” “Sh-h-h,” He coaxed. After about a minute he gently unwrapped her arms, because his erection was now stiff against his buckskins. Cupping her elbows, he forced her to look into his eyes. And he noticed that the tears were all gone. Gone to the extent that they were replaced by something new. It was desire. Hot blatant desire. The semi- transparent shining fabric she wore did little to conceal the rise and fall of her breasts as she clearly struggled with what was taking place within her. Yet Ralph couldn’t ignore the incredible heat. He cradled her chin in his palm at once. “Katrina,” he softly began, “Do you want me to soothe you?” Lady Katrina froze. Then almost immediately she felt herself melting, treacherously. She couldn’t deny how awesome it had felt to be in his arms. Her thoughts had been racing, but she had found that the more she tried to make sense of it all, the deeper she would sink into a spiraling abyss. So she had simply clung to him for dear life. Yet she wanted more. God help her, she needed more. Thoughts of celibacy and of joining the convent flitted past into a state of designated unimportance. Her mind was saturated with the scent of him. Her skin was incensed with the feel of him. And her heart truly wanted ALL of him. Their bodies pressed so closely together, Ralph knew with everything in him what her answer would be before beautiful eyebrows came together above a pearly gaze and full lips mouthed the words “Yes, I do!” He kissed the divine column of her throat, her shoulders, her arms. Katrina gasped and touched the skin beneath his cotton shirt and ran her palms feverishly up his torso. As he kissed her slightly damp cheeks, he propelled her in the direction of her bed, while simultaneously undoing the buttons down his front. Katrina traced his superb jawline, feeling the subtle beginnings of a new growth of beard. And then the telephone rang. So unlike his usually controlled self, Ralph found himself muttering an expletive. He touched Katrina’s forehead with his own and then, holding onto her hand, picked up the phone. “Hallo?” “Katrina!” Spoke a hurried, anguished voice. “You’ve got to get out of there now! The roof is on fire!” In the West Indies, tradition and high land value gave rise to the erection of structures which proved to be, somewhat naturally, as fatal as they were impractical. In particular, the use of timber and thatch in these nascent buildings had made the early towns vulnerable to a series of devastating fires. Attempts had been made during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries to introduce building codes, yet, as they had been difficult to enforce, the hazard continued to plague the towns. Needless to say, Lady Katrina Davenport never thought it would happen to her. However, as the two ran to the window, the sight was sure. “Let’s go!” yelled Sir Ralph. “Now!” He lunged forward. “But…” Katrina was piqued by horror. Everything she had- all of it… would- go- up- in- flames? What would become of her? What would she do? Especially now that she had fallen for Sir Canterbury she couldn’t very well go to the convent and ask them to take her in; she’d feel like a sinner in church! Where ever could she… Sensing her turmoil, grief and agony, Ralph cavorted and looked her squarely in the eye. “Come with me.” It was a command. The smoke was beginning to furl inward. “I’ll take care of you.” It was a promise. The air was becoming strangling; choking. “Trust me,” It was a request. Her heart was palpitating, but Katrina found that her choice came clearly. “Yes,” she replied, her eyes aglow. The pair dashed outside. PART IV Tungsten Smirnoff and Tim Bugby. “Has the Regalia been overhauled?” yelled the first mate to another officer. “Aye, that she has; her sanitary and plumbing arrangements, her smokestacks, woodwork, spars and rigging have all been overhauled!” “And the deck been holystoned?” “Aye, for sure, of that I assure you.” “Make ready to weigh anchor and cast off, then!” “Oh, it’s great to be a pirate, isn’t it? Yeah…” Tim Bugby belched and patted his sizeable belly. A few crew members who were within hearing distance looked over at him, suspiciously. “Bugby!” Whispered Tungsten Smirnoff, a skinny, pockmarked fellow with hair, skin and clothes as dirty as Bugby’s. “Yeah, Tungy?” “Not so loud! Remember this Regalia’s not a pirate ship!” “It’s not?” “No! We’re undercover!” Bugby seemed to be taking a few minutes to digest this bit of information. “But,” he scratched his head, dirty fingernails becoming embedded with more grime. “Why’re we undercover, Tungy?” “Because we’ve got a mission!” “What’s our mission, then?” “I’ve forgot!” Tungsten and Bugby had no clue of just how important their mission was going to be! Just then, Katrina walked briskly by, followed by Sir Ralph, in close pursuit. “Pretty little piece, ain’t she?” Tungsten remarked of Katrina. “D’you reckon, Bugby, that I c’n get her?” “I d’n’ know, Tungy,” A malevolent glare came into Tungsten’s eyes as he rubbed his hands together, gleefully. “I’ll bet you yet I’ll bed the dame, or Tungsten Smirnoff ain’t my name!” Bugby rolled his eyes and rested his head in his hands. “Oy!” Tungsten observed, “They’re havin’ a row!” “I speak fluent French, Monsieur,” continued Katrina. “Je regrette, mais c’est impossible pour moi de rester seul.” Sir Ralph looked at her with eyes that were as far from quizzical as a quadrant was from an astrolabe. “Do it again.” He requested. Katrina shrieked and whirled around, but Ralph blocked her would- be entrance to her cabin. Watching from the sidelines Bugby inferred, “I think she likes him.” “Yes, I- I b’lieve ‘e loves her ‘e does,” Tungsten agreed. “Sir Ralph,” Katrina closed her eyes. “Mademoiselle…?” He would not touch her. Tears began to come to her eyes. Ralph’s face changed to accommodate an ‘I expect better of you’ expression. Then quick as a wink she turned and fled. Halting suddenly at a second doorway she eclipsed and faced him; he had been right behind her. There was fire in her eyes but she shook as if under an awful attack of the flu. “How is it,” she countered, “That you, Sir Canterbury, have earned the rank of knighthood but still manage to be so absolutely sinister?” His nose brushed her earlobe as he whispered, “You must understand, ma Cherie,” , he softly captured her fingers. She attempted to push him away, but he held her close. “That torture… Is pleasure.” She sighed, defeated. “Fine.” She looked right back up at him. “Torture me.” The sun was high in the sky as Tungsten conversed with Bugby. The liner had moved off hours ago. “Oy Bugby,” “Yea Tungy?” “Which do you prefer: limes or lemons?” “None, Tungy, I don’t like ‘em at all,” Bugby complained. “Well then you’ll end up with limes!” Tungsten chuckled at his own clever joke. PART V The Captain It was approximately five o’clock in the afternoon when the Captain abandoned the splendor of his personal suite and descended to the mess to join his crew for dinner. There he intended to meet with one of the liners most noble and well- paying passengers, Sir Ralph Lexicon Canterbury, as was the plan. Sir Canterbury had explained that he had promised the maiden at his side that she would get to experience what ocean life was like for the average sailor, and so eating in the mess would be a given. The Captain would be there to make the needful introductions. Additionally, eating with his crew was his habit. He was a Captain that was loved by all. Once there, he spoke to his First Mate Elmer, regarding the status of things on board. Then he waited patiently for Sir Canterbury to appear. He did not have to wait long. Within minutes he was graced by the entry of Sir Ralph with the most beautiful woman that the Captain had ever seen at his side. He went to Sir Canterbury at once. “Sir Ralph,” the Captain began, “Captain Gold- Eye,” “And what a delightful damsel. What is her name?” “Katrina.” Ralph answered. Katrina nodded, smiled and held out her hand, which the Captain shook. She registered a slight twitch of Ralph’s jaw muscles as he did so. It bothered her slightly. “Cap’n Gold- Eye?” Bugby asked Tungsten from their ‘covert’ position at a far- from- the- entrance crew’s table. “Aye, Bugby. Cap’n Short Steve Gold- eye. Didn’ want ter be feudin’ wi’ Cap’n Long John Silver, as I figure it,” He finished with relish. “So, we’ve pushed off, Captain?” Ralph politely inquired of Captain Gold- Eye. “Indeed. Was anxious to head out, Sir Ralph. Those waters around Grenada did give me a funny feeling.” The Captain didn’t know how good a call he had made, for, less than half- a- century later, a luxury liner named the Bianca C would sink to a watery grave after catching fire in the outer harbour of St. George’s. “So,” Gold- Eye continued, “What are we waiting for?” He rubbed his belly. “Let’s dig in!” The crew didn’t need to be told twice. The Captain showed Ralph and Katrina to an appropriate seat. Katrina enjoyed the meal. There were potatoes, lamb, venison and warm gravy. It was quite hearty. But she found that what came after the dinner was even better! All having dined to their hearts’ content, the captain clinked his silverware against his glass. “What say ye all to a bit of banter or verbal jousting, me lads?” He announced. “Aye, Cap’n.” There was concord all around. One sailor stood up. He cleared his throat. “A diner while dining at Crewe Found quite a large mouse in his stew. Said the waiter, ‘Don’t shout And wave it about Or the rest will be wanting one too!’” The mess erupted in laughter. “Oh, that’s nothing. Hear ye, hear ye,” Another sailor took the floor. “Ahem. A delicate girl named Louise Caused quite a large stir with her sneeze. One small twitch of her nose And folks cried ‘Thar she blows!’ She’s a whale of a gal if you please!” More laughter. The sailor bowed and took his seat. Alright, alright, said Gold- Eye gruffly. He stood, wiping his face and beard with a white handkerchief. “You all and these Limericks. Why, I say that a true test of memory lies in the ability to remember things of good caliber from long ago! This was one of me old school poems, lads. It was written by an anonymous author. Taking a deep breath, Gold- Eye began: What is the point of things which are pointless? What is the point of things with no point? I can’t understand. It slips me each time. It flees from my hand; It leaves me to pine. So what is the worth Of a world with no earth, Of trees without leaves, Of an insincere judge? What is the aim Of a die with no game? If the most solid rock One day decides to budge? What would be gained If, instead of rain A shroud Of Cloud One day dropped from the sky? To stand and gaze At an ongoing maze Which swirled And twirled As it took you up high? And so I conclude Void of anything lewd And with due respect For the rules made erect It is fitting to say That the way things should stay Is the way that they are. For we don’t want to mar What is already good And has kept as it should For then In the end We’ll have no- one to blame But ourselves, in the shame Of whims vain as they stood. And at last, as I close Do you really suppose That if kittens Had mittens They’d be ‘up to scratch’? No I don’t think you do And so I’m telling you To make do with What Is, And all fancies… Dispatch. Gold- Eye ended with a flourish. Then the noise of cheering was deafening. “And now,” Shouted Gold- Eye, barely managing to be heard over the thunderous applause, ”We help ourselves to some excellent brew!” He pointed to two of the barrels of beer. If it were possible, the intensity of the rejoicing increased. Needless to say, Gold- Eye was, once again, one of those Captains who could sleep well each night without the worry of mutiny. “Captain Gold- Eye?” Ralph touched the lovable Captain on his shoulder. “Ah, yes, Sir Ralph?” The Captain put down his near- full tankard. “I think I’ll take the lady upstairs to her quarters,” Ralph quietly confided. “Ah, yes; yes, of course.” Gold- eye agreed, stolidly. Much to her consternation, Ralph grasped Katrina firmly by the hand and walked her out of the mess and upstairs to her cabin. Yet, she did not argue. Katrina trusted Ralph. “Good night, Katrina,” He whispered, at the entrance to her room. “Good night, Sir Ralph,” She whispered, in return. She sighed, as he turned and walked away. Then she gently closed her bedroom door, and got on her knees at her bedside, to pray. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” She crossed herself once again. Dear Lord, I’m so thankful for all you’ve given me; thank you for the meal; it was glorious Lord, thank you so much for Sir Ralph, he’s absolutely the most Wonderful man I’ve Ever Known.” She gushed. “ Lord I do pray that Sister Margarita received my letter; I’ve written enough for her to know that I’ve done what I must. I do Love You So, Lord. Amen.” Finished praying, she made the sign of the cross, and rose. Meanwhile, downstairs, the men had sobered and the captain was rounding up his crew. “Willow, Marshall, that’s right, and WHO’RE YOU?” Captain Gold- Eye rounded on Tungsten and Bugby. “T-Tungsten Smirnoff a-and Tim Bugby at your service, Cap’n,” Tungsten whimpered. The Captain folded his arms. “Let’s see your Identification.” “Um…” Tungsten, now caught between a rock and a hard place, belted out, “Bugby ate it!” “Wha-?” Began Bugby, but Tungsten nudged him, “Play along, play along!” he whispered. “I ate it.” Said Bugby, decidedly. “Look here now.” The Captain commanded of the two. “I won’t have any lollygagging on my ship. So if I so much as smell you two are up to any nonsense…” He glared at the two. “No Cap’n. Not a’ all, I assure you,” Tungsten promised. “Better not be,” The Captain threatened, moving on. Just then, Ralph came down the stairs, into the mess. “Captain,” “Ralph?” “It’s approximately the same time to return as the arriving trip?” “Aye, and that be five days.” answered the Captain, to Ralph’s obvious dismay. “Care to consult m’ navigational charts?” offered Gold- Eye. “That’d be topper!” Ralph’s face lit up. It was as if he hoped that he would find a smaller time period embedded therein. “Captain Gold- Eye!” The First Mate, called down the stairwell. “Elmer?!” He returned, just as anxiously. As hitherto demonstrated by the discovery of the two stowaways, it was in Gold- Eye’s repertoire to always be alert. “Captain, we’ve come across a bloke in a longboat!” “A longboat, so many miles from land?” Gold- Eye blustered, half to himself. “Alright, alright,” he replied, “let him up, and I’ll be coming up meself.” PART VI Lord Professor Petriev Gonavitch On deck, there was now tremendous activity. Wondering what all the hubbub was about, Katrina slipped out of her room. She was intercepted by the new arrival, a tall man with flowing blonde hair. “My, my, what a delicious damsel.” He blurted out. Then he snatched her hand and kissed it. “How DARE you?” Katrina responded. “I don’t even know y-“ “That’s quite enough, Gonavitch.” Ralph had appeared. Her knight in shining armour. Thank heavens. He grabbed Katrina’s hand and departed with her. As he did so, the professor called after him, “Ralph, never taught the maiden that a lady’s hand ought to be kissed?” “Not by the likes of you, Petriev,” Ralph angrily shot back. “You know him?” She asked Ralph when they were what she considered to be a safe distance from the scene. “Yes I do. Petriev Gonavitch. We went to Guildhall music school together…” “I always knew you were Musical,” Katrina interrupted, adoringly. Ralph looked at her with an immensity of love in his eyes, as he continued, “…But Gonavitch had a darkness; something foul about him that somehow I could never put my finger on, yet that I always knew existed.” As the newly accommodated Lord Professor Petriev Gonavitch doused his bedside lamp, he vowed, “Very soon they shall see how pure greed triumphs over everything good!” He laughed a spine chilling laugh. The next day, the Captain walked with Ralph along one side of the ship. “That’s a fine maiden you’ve got there,” the Captain “pointed out” to Ralph (for the second time). “I know,” Ralph agreed. “And what are your intentions regardin’ ‘er, might I ask?” “I plan to wed her.” Ralph asserted. “Excellent, excellent, I would expect no less of you, Sir Ralph.” He nodded. “But I would have you know that you ought to keep a constant eye on her with regard to that Lord Professor Whatshisname in particular. I don’t trust him at all. He gives me a very creepy feeling.” Here, the Captain reached inside his navy- blue blazer and extracted a revolver. “Take this, Sir Ralph, take this. You may have to employ it in the protection of your lady sooner than you think.” “Alright, Gold- Eye. I’ll take it. “ Entranced by the beautiful sounds of the water and the wind, Katrina left her cabin and walked out onto the opposite side of the liner. Absorbing it all, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. In a few moments, she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, Ralph it’s-“ she began to turn around. “YOU!” Katrina very nearly panicked at the sight of the man she now knew to be Petriev Gonavitch. “Get away from me.” She managed. “What?” Gonavitch responded in the same oily voice that had made Katrina cringe the night before. “Don’t want to have a little fun?” Gonavitch attempted to place his hands on Katrina’s hips. Annoyed, she brushed them off. “’Tisn’t me you need be afraid of,” she bit out, “’Tis a nobleman, who’s twice the man you’ll ever be!” “Step away from her, Petriev.” Katrina exhaled audibly, happily. Ralph had come to her rescue! Lord Professor Petriev Gonavitch slunk back as the business end of a gun bore into his temple. “No need to get so testy, Ralph,” Gonavitch crooned silkily. “Testy?” Ralph’s jaw muscles clenched. “I would say ‘Ready to kill’ was much more like it, wouldn’t you, Petriev? Think about it.” Lord Gonavitch put up his hands. “Get away from here.” Ralph ground out. Petriev scampered off. It was evening, and so gulls soared high in the sky. Ralph took Katrina to the bow of the ship where they could catch the breeze and put his arms around her. She nearly cried. “Oh, Ralph” she began, “I love you so much…” “Shhh,” Ralph coaxed, He stroked her hair. “Sometimes…” Katrina whimpered, holding onto his other hand, “…I think I’ll die with wanting you.” Ralph looked deeply into her eyes. “Whatever happens,” he whispered, “Don’t you let go of my hand.” The couple stood there well into the night. But looking on was a vile creature; a serpent. In the form of Lord Gonavitch. Disgruntled, he drew a chalk ring on the floor and stepped into it. Eerie noises began to sound.. Then suddenly the man was no more. He was replaced by a lanky black man with a beady, brooding gaze. Lord Professor Petriev Gonavitch was a warlock. PART VII The Cryptid “With the power of the rain- god chaac I shall create the most awful hurricane that the good people of this ship have ever seen!” Spat Gonavitch, from inside the ring. The clear sky outside became obscure. Rain began to pelt down. And then the winds began to pick up. Gonavitch watched as Ralph and his damsel ran for shelter. Inside, the First Mate was getting frantic. “Captain, what’s happening?!” ‘Looks like we’ve chanced upon a cyclone,” Gold- Eye observed, gruffly. Then he went over to the galley, just in time to meet Ralph and Katrina coming in. “Captain Gold- Eye,” Ralph greeted him. “Bad weather eh?” the Captain announced. “Captain, where are we?” called Elmer from the deck. “Bring me my charts, Elmer.” Gold- Eye commanded. “Ralph, would you mind bringing my ol’ specs for me? They’re in my cabin. I’ll need to stay here to boost the morale of my passengers, who should be coming down in droves any minute now.” “Right away, Captain,” Ralph declared. “Stay here, Katrina, you’ll be safe here.” “Alright, Ralph,” Katrina conceded. “I will.” However, in Gold- Eye’s room there were two little rats. Yes. And they were searching for some sign of treasure. “Come on, Bugby. you’ve got ter find some sort of map, now…” “I’m lookin’ Tungy!” “Have you found anything?” “No, I haven’t found… Aha!” “Well, well. What have we here?” The Knight had arrived. “Mr. Vangter- Scurry!” Tungsten said, in alarm. “Canterbury.” Ralph corrected him. “Not that I’m that interested in who you are, as compared with What Are You Doing In The Captain’s quarters?” “Nothing a’ all,” lied Tungsten. A mere accident, I assure you. “Really,” countered Sir Ralph. “So what have you got there in your pocket?” He pointed towards Bugby. For once, the cogs in Bugby’s brain worked quickly. “Me hanky!” he falsified. Ralph rolled his eyes. “Come on, the two of you, OUT! You shouldn’t be here,” “Righ’ away, Mr. Hankter- Skerry, righ’ away.” “Canterbury!” Ralph was beginning to lose patience. He shooed the two out of the Captain’s room. Once out, Tungsten and Bugby breathed audible sighs of relief. “So Bugby, wha’ ’ve you got?” Tungsten asked excitedly. Removing the paper from his pocket, Bugby smoothed it out. “Um, a- muhr- in- jin work stone.” “A stone?” Tungsten grumbled, more than exasperated. “You’ve got something they use as building material?” “But it looks nice, Tungy,” Bugby returned, defensively. “Says ‘ere it can be found near the St. John’s river in Grenader!” “A river?” Responded Tungsten, a bit more pacified. “Well if we’re going to be going near a river we’ve got ter get some knowledge on rivers. First thing you got ter know, is that there’s always three stages for a river. They calls ‘em first class, second class and tourist’s class!” So Tungsten and Bugby were in glory, having the time of their lives. But back in Grenada, Sister Eugenia Margarita was having trouble sleeping, and she knew she had to pray. She had to pray for Katrina. Having retrieved the Captain’s glasses, Ralph was about to leave the cabin when he thought he caught a glimpse of Gonavitch. Then a black sack with some sickeningly sweet- smelling liquid was placed over his head. A slight struggle ensued, and then Sir Ralph Lexicon Canterbury was out like a light. “Oh where is Sir Ralph with those spectacles?” Captain Gold- Eye wondered aloud. “Ah, that’s right, Lord Witherby, Lord Hatchcroft, Lord Cooper… Right- O. Well, ladies and gents, I’m afraid I’ve some depressing news; there seems to be a bit of a depression!” What a pun, he thought to himself. “Should have taken her while you had the chance.” Ralph had come to. The dark, dusty environment indicated that they were somewhere in the hold of the ship. Lord Gonavitch snapped a cat- o’- nine- tails across Sir Ralph’s exposed back. He flinched, but did not cry out. “Now you’ll never know what it’s like,” he circled Ralph, “To sink into the welcoming heat of Kat…” “She’ll never have you!” Ralph bellowed, in morbid agony. “You know it!” “Well then,” retorted Gonavitch, smiling a forcibly pleasant smile, “I suppose we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” Standing back from his captive he extracted from his coat a slender, oaken wand. “Transformus Ignoblium!” He spat, as, in front of Ralph’s horrified eyes he self- transfigured into the splitting image of the gallant knight. Before Ralph could utter a word, Gonavitch tightly and thoroughly gagged him with a band of cloth soaked in the same sweet liquid which Ralph now recognised to be chloroform. Gonavitch began to walk away, then, at the door, turned and fired a single, silver bullet right into Sir Canterbury’s heart. Once on deck, he came across the two ‘pirates’. “Sir Vankter- very!” Tungsten shrieked and cowered. Gonavitch spared him a look of inconceivable pity, then was on his way. “Ralph!” Katrina’s face lit up at the apparent sight of her soon- to- be husband. But Tungsten and Bugby were in his wake. “Begging your pardon Miss,” ventured Tungsten, bowing. “But this ain’t Sir Ralph, Miss. You see, I never get his name right, an’ ‘e always corrects me. But this time, he didn’t say a word!” Bugby nodded, backing up Tungsten. Gonavitch scowled, darkly. Katrina was convinced. And somewhere in Grenada, Sister Eugenia Margarita found peace at last. Followed by Tungsten and Bugby, Katrina reported to Captain Gold- Eye as quickly as she possibly could, with the worrisome news. “No Ralph?” The Captain blustered, “Scour the deck, men! Search the cabins! Empty the hold!” A couple minutes later, two of Gold- Eye’s efficient crewmen brought a dead Ralph up from a section of the hold near to the animals. Stricken with grief, Katrina asked that his body be laid down next to her. Once there, she fell upon him, issuing a fountain of tears upon his bloody chest. Now a silver bullet operates upon this principle; that of silver’s high unreactivity. But now, Katrina’s warmth encircled Ralph, and her tears invaded the incision made by the bullet, forcefully dislodging it. Ralph was alive again. “Katrina?” He stirred, with her body across his. “Oh, Ralph!” She returned, exuberant. She held his face in her hands. “I told you I would never let go,” His face contorted with venom, Gonavitch cried, “Now I summon from Murdock’s lair: The Cryptid!” The crowd watched in astonishment and disbelief as a giant mauve snake out of nowhere, quickly and violently, thrashing as it came, made its way to the liner. The sea monster rose till it was approximately eighteen feet above the water, then bore menacingly down on the ship, breaking off the bow in a single ‘snap’. Passengers and crew alike wailed and scrambled to get into longboats, but Lord ‘Professor’ Petriev Gonavitch was dragged down to the dreary depths never to be heard from ever again. Epilogue It appears that in the midst of the hurricane the Regalia was thrown far off course; in a completely opposite direction, really. For what do you know? In their ‘God- sent’ longboats, the Captain, crew, and passengers washed up on Grand- Anse beach, Grenada! As for Ralph and Katrina, he properly ravished her in one of the passageways at Fort George, St. George’s. THE END.
Posted on: Tue, 06 Jan 2015 22:03:05 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015