Jim and I were standing the last watch before dawn. I had
no trouble staying awake after the story the housekeeper had told. I could
scarcely credit her tale but I had no other explanation for what I had seen
with my own eyes. With the first false dawn Margarate approached me. Her tone
was less imperious and more friendly than it had been earlier. She offered up
some small talk which I found tedious at this time of day, and at last I asked
her plainly what was on her mind. She
bridled, but adopted a more business-like tone. She described how her husband
had kept a fortune in silver coins in a small chest in his study. When the
situation began to deteriorate, he secretly hid the chest in the warehouse by
the dock. She hinted that her father would not be pleased if we left the island
without recovering the chest. I explained to her that our departure was likely
to be a desperate business and it wasn’t likely we would have an opportunity to
search for the chest. At that moment a picture of that horrid pagan altar we
had seen in the warehouse when we landed was in my mind. Margarate started to
argue the matter, but at that moment the maid, Martha interrupted. With tears
in her eyes she said she had gone to check Seth’s wound and had found him dead.
Doctor Menting and Hector soon joined us. The doctor expressed his surprise at
the death, as the wound had not been a mortal one. While Menting went to
examine Seth the housekeeper entered the room and told us the slaves were
gathering about 100 yards from the front of the house. She showed no surprise
at the news of our man’s death, but said he must not fall into the witch doctor’s
hands or he would become like those things outside.
....the slaves were gathering...
All of us were now together. The light was increasing and
there were a dozen or a few more of the slaves forming a ragged line across our
route to the dock. A few others could be seen in the distance moving slowly in
our direction. We had to decide quickly what we would do. We couldn’t bring
Seth’s body with us and we couldn’t leave him behind. At this juncture, Hector
spoke up. He asked the housekeeper what might be done to prevent Seth’s
transformation. She responded that the body must be burnt or the head removed.
Without hesitation Hector directed Menting to remove the head and rejoin the
group ready to move out. He spoke to us
in an even tone but he wore the habit of command plainly and I think our
spirits were lifted by his steadiness. We were going to stay in a tight group
with the four men in front and the three women close behind. The line of slaves
blocking our path was broken up by scattered patches of dense undergrowth. We
would exit the house and move quickly toward a gap in the undergrowth to our
right front. Three slaves stood in that gap. About halfway to that gap Hector
would give the command Halt! Fire! We would drop those three slaves and bolt
through the gap. As we had observed the previous day, the slaves were slow and
clumsy. Our speed would be our salvation. Hector warned us that no one must
stop to reload, and any man that fell behind must be left to his fate, Speed
was everything.
We broke from the front door, formed quickly as
instructed, and began to jog toward the gap. The slaves were in motion toward
us all along the line. About halfway Hector gave the command to halt and fire.
Our four muskets banged out a ragged volley. We were blinded for the moment by
the smoke but Hector shouted “Move!” and we began jogging forward again. I was
relieved to see all three of the slaves on the ground, but two others were now
near enough to dispute our passage. My crewman Joe moved the women through the
gap and to the right, away from the closest slaves while Menting and Hector
struck the two slaves with their musket butts. I moved to follow Joe and the
women when I felt a pair of claw-like hands clutching my leg. One of the slaves
I thought we had dispatched was dragging at me and snarling like an animal. I
think I am as steady a hand as most men, but at that moment terror overtook me.
I saw Menting and Hector running to catch Joe and the women. I was being left
behind! Several slaves were approaching me, attracted by the sound of my
struggle with the thing clawing at my leg. I felt despair and surrender rising
in me, the horror of becoming one of them,
and then I found a last reserve of strength. I struck savagely with my musket
butt on the head of my assailant and twisted out of his grip. I slipped on the
blood and went down on one knee. As the monsters closed on me, I sprang to my
feet and ran. I felt fingers clutching at my coat but I focused all on just
running as fast as I could. My musket fell from my hand and was left behind.
The path the others had taken was now blocked, so I swerved farther to my right
and found another path.
I had left my
pursuers behind but I didn’t slacken my pace until I reached the shore. I saw
the others gathered at the dock, but instead of boarding the sloop there was
some sort of argument underway. Doctor Menting had Margarate by the arm, Hector
was loading his musket and looking back at the slowly advancing slaves. Joe was
helping the men left behind to prepare to cast off. I ran down the beach to the
group just as Margarate broke away from Menting. She ran to the warehouse intending, I suppose, to search for her husband’s chest
of silver. Just as Menting caught up with her, she pulled the door open and
recoiled in horror. There in the shed, seated above that awful pagan shrine was
a slave with elaborate symbols painted on his body and her husband and the
overseer! I reached the dock and could see the slave stand up, laughing
maniacally. The two white men were dead, but awake like the other slaves. The
painted man must have been the witch doctor. I ran down the dock and boarded
the Hermione. Hector stood at the end of the dock, eyes fixed on the advancing
slaves and called out “To me, Doctor!”. Menting
slapped the struggling Margarate hard and half dragged, half carried her to the
ship. We were able to push away from the
dock just as the slave things emerged from the path onto the beach.
As the island faded in the distance we fugitives were
still sitting on the deck, in silence. Hector was in conversation with the
mate, who was steering a course for Saint Martins. I feared that if I stood and
walked over to join them my legs might fail me. Hector walked over, sat next to
me and offered me his flask. He smiled (for the first time since we met) and
said “You did well, Captain”. That, and the strong drink in the flask steadied
me and I was soon able to assume command of my Hermione. The voyage back to
Saint Martins was uneventful. The man Hector took his leave a few days after we
landed as, he said he had business in Havana. Doctor Menting spent a good deal
of time in the company of the widow Margarate. They were married a few months
later. I wish him joy of it but I think a good man like him could have done
better. Still, her father was a very wealthy man. For my part, I got to know
her maid, Martha on the voyage home. She was a sweet girl who I thought had
conducted herself with credit on the island. We talked for hours when I took my
turn at the helm, and by the time we reached Saint Martins, she had agreed to
be my wife. Over the years of our long and happy marriage we had rarely spoken
of Turtle Island, until the night of the Governor’s reception, and if God
grants it we will think of it no more.
Note: This was
originally a game that I played with Mike (who styles himself King of St
Maurice) using The Dead Walk zombie rules with some basic card draw stuff to
generate zombies and random events. After the game Mike began riffing on all
that we might do with the card deck to flesh out the characters and generate
actions they might take consistent with their personalities. I’m retired now,
so I did a solo rerun of the original later in the week using the additional ‘chrome’.
The story above is that game. Mike and I will continue to refine the thing for
use in other heroic adventure type games set in various periods.
A very enjoyable action report: compliments!
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