Leapfrog, p.12
Leapfrog, page 12
part #5 of Bannister's Muster Series
The man bowed slightly, but looked even more puzzled as if trying to make out who she could be. “Indeed yes, madam,” he said. “But we are in the East Indies, islands close to India, where the spice traders come. Unless we have come further and are on the coast of Japan.”
“Good gracious no. That’s in the other direction,” said Poppy. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m from England anyway. I’m Poppy.”
The man smiled again, and bowed. He had a very serious face, but seemed genuinely interested by everything he saw. He clasped the hands of all the natives. They told him welcome, and he thanked them.
Kob said, “I like the invitation given by the young girl. “I believe we should wait until the lowering of the sun. Then we will light a fire. First we will go fishing.”
Columbus was delighted with the idea. “We can only eat grains and some of them are covered in mildew,” he said, “and fish at sea. We had salt beef but that was finished two days past, and our water barrels are running dry.” He looked towards Bayldon. “Did you also come buy ship, sir? I do not see your craft.”
Bayldon, unable to say that they flew, just smiled. “We travelled by something called Deben,” he said. “But it left without us.”
“But we have plenty of food,” interrupted Messina. “Not just fish.”
“That would make a pleasant change,” said Columbus, and the natives looked pleased as well.
They stood around talking, exchanging names and speaking about their experiences, very eager to discover who everyone was. Ferdinand seemed especially fascinated. “I am boat builder by trade,” he said. “I could build you a better ship if there were more of us. But I can’t see any trees.” He was also excited just to speak with Messina. “I have spent so long listening to the conversations of the great and wise, including your illustrious self,” he said. “But I have rarely had the chance to speak, only to listen. Who would talk to a tiny frog? I wasn’t even a big scorpion.”
“You were a delightful and highly intelligent frog,” Bayldon told him, “but I hope we can find better food than mouldy grains.”
“I shall conjure up meat, fruit, vegetables and wine,” she said. “None of the meat will be from real animals, but it will all taste just as good.”
Columbus, stripping off his baldric and fine cape, sat down on the sandy grass next to Poppy. She looked around in some surprise. “I rarely speak to young ladies of your age,” he said, clearly a little embarrassed, “but I was interested in your statement earlier, when you insisted that this is neither Japanese nor Indian territory. I wonder if you had some knowledge that has so far escaped me?”
She started to say ‘no’ and then changed her mind. “Well, yes, in a way,” she said. “That spice trail you were talking about is all east. This is west. You can see from where the sun is setting.”
“But,” he answered her patiently, “if we had headed east, then this would surely be west anyway.”
Poppy couldn’t work that one out. “But this is a New World,” she said. “The Americas. It’s huge. Goes north and south and ends up in the Arctic up there, and the Antarctic down south.” She thought a moment. “You didn’t think the world was flat, did you?” she asked, having once heard something of the sort.
“Good gracious, no,” said Columbus, a little shocked. “We have known of the curvature of our planet since Aristotle, especially anyone who sails the oceans, for the horizon proves the fact. Surely you don’t believe that? Perhaps the natives – I do not know what they think. But we do not believe such strange things.”
“Oh well, jolly good,” said Poppy. “I don’t think that either. I mean, I know the world is round. Well – roundish. But it’s bigger than you seem to think. You’ve discovered a whole new world.”
“And, I apologise for my insistence,” he continued, “but could you explain to me how you know?”
She could not, and looked up hopefully at her mother. Messina, who was busily creating spells for a wonderful BBQ feast, looked around. “It’s really annoying,” she muttered. “Deben has blocked all my powers. It may be a smaller feast than I’d hoped.”
“There are about fifty people,” Poppy told her. “We have to have more than apples and cucumber.” She had noticed that after half an hour’s effort, Messina held just one of each.
“I haven’t finished yet,” she said crossly. “As for proving this is America, well just buy a map from the local petrol station.”
That was not at all helpful, and Poppy asked her father instead. Bayldon came over and sat beside her. “We have,” he said, although it was not actually true, “been here before ourselves. Just a week ago, of course. And it is quite clear that there are no Japanese or Indian people living here.”
Columbus pointed to the natives who now sat amongst them, chatting happily. “And I must say, they all speak excellent Spanish, so I imagine our people have been here before when following the spice trade.”
“I thought they spoke good English,” frowned Bayldon.
“Oh dear, I give up,” said Poppy, wishing that Nathan was there beside her.
Brewster, bouncing from one group to another, was more interested in the natives, who called themselves the Arawak, and he was discovering what foods they liked, and how they cooked them. “This,” he informed Bayldon and Zakmeister, “will be a feast like no other. I shall lay it out myself, since everyone else lacks the power. So diddle-daddle, and faddle-di-waddle, roast beef, pork, lamb and saddle, tis time for a Hazlett feast.”
The sun sank down behind the endless sandy scrub, seeming to grow bigger and bigger as it sank, until it rested like a huge golden ball, half hidden, half still brilliant. The shadows began to flash across the land, and then quite quickly it was dark. The stars blinked out in their hundreds of thousands. Poppy had never seen so many stars. Without anything to hide them, they swirled across the rich blackness like spilled cream, and milky streams, with the pinpricks of white brilliance spangling every point.
“Time, it is,” called Brewster. “Spot the spud, and gather around. Custard and mustard, pie and fry, squid and cuddle, fish and muddle, find your favourite and eat till you sleep. Tis my gift.”
Aware that only he had any magic left, Brewster had made a feast that most of the guests would remember all their lives.
Chapter Eleven
The perfumes of different foods rose into the air like magical messages, and the fire sent up its little spirals of deep blue smoke against the stars far, far above. Brewster sat himself in the middle of a n eager circle, delighted to claim credit, but6 keeping the magical preparation secret. He had carefully carried platters from behind bushes, suddenly appearing with trays of sumptuous and beautifully cooked luxuries. When asked by the amazed crew of the Pinta how he had managed this miracle, and from what ship he had produced it, he simply smiled knowingly and tapped his long pointed nose, with a vague whisper of, “Not telling, you know. Not telling. Just sit, and enjoy.”
Ferdinand regarded him with suspicion, but the food did not appear to be poisoning anybody, so he tucked into it himself and found it all delicious.
There was roast pork covered in crunchy roast crackling, and stuffed with spicy onions and herbs. There was roast chicken with a sluffing of creamiest onions, grapes, raisins, hard boiled eggs chopped and grilled with breadcrumbs.
Three gigantic tuna fish were wrapped in bacon and fried leeks, stuffed with lemon rind and asparagus, and served on a bed of grilled herring and whiting.
“I am quite sure I did not see you fishing, sir,” announced Christopher Columbus with relish, swallowing the first mouthful. “Yet this fish tastes as fresh as it is possible to be. Straight from the ocean, I say. How did you achieve such a thing? Did you dive, unseen by anybody, and grab this fish from the sea bed?”
Enjoying this very much, Brewster sat back. Quite stuffed himself by now, and smiled again. “I come from a country,” he said, carefully keeping his forked tongue hidden, “where we have very unique and varied ways of doing things. But I cannot divulge my secrets you know. Ah, not rumpty dumpty pickledy pinch of a hint, no indeed. Brewster Hazlett is a man of secrets.”
“Well,” Columbus answered, somewhat disappointed, “this is all remarkable food and I thank you for it. You can see how pleased my crew is, for they’ve eaten very little for several weeks, and what they ate was vile.”
“As long as nobody thinks this is vile,” said Brewster, looking sternly at Poppy.
“It’s gorgeous,” she said with a giggle. “You’re a wonderful cook, Mr. Hazlett.”
“Indeed. I know,” cackled Brewster. “And now for pudding.”
The cakes, puddings and ice creams he then brought out from the bush were even more remarkable that the first course had been, and nobody spoke for quite some time. They were all too busy eating.
For the hours they spent snuggled up around the huge fire which the crew had built on the beach, everybody had been eager to get to know each other, and while Messina and her group had been interested to get to know the great explorer and his crew, in fact, Columbus and his crew were most interested in understanding the natives. They exhibited shooting their home-made arrows at particular targets, including bushes, rocks and shells washed up on the beach. Kob tried to shoot his arrow at a star, but was disappointed when it fell short.
Finally they began to tire, and curled up around the still burning driftwood and closed their eyes. The sailors had their own oilskins to sleep on and under, but the natives didn’t bother with anything. The others took off their coats, jackets and scarves and used these as pillows and blankets. But the night was warm, and the last dying perfumes of the feast faded slowly, swirling around their heads in the gentle breezes as the moon, just a thin silver slice, passed slowly over their heads and set in the west.
They woke to a shimmering morning. The dawn had barely blinked before the sun rushed up in a golden haze, ready to send out its heat to the land below.
Everyone woke, sat up, stretched, and said good morning to each other. The natives, picking up their bows, arrows, and some of the bones from the previous evening, marched off over the hillocks and disappeared into the horizon’s mist.
“We must start the day,” said Kob. “We go to the forests. We hunt. We tell the women of what we have seen and done this night, and we hope one day to see you again.”
“Are you leaving too?” asked Zakmeister of Christopher Columbus, considerably disappointed. “It has been such a pleasure to talk with men of great intelligence and knowledge who have passed lives very different from my own.”
“Today we sail on,” Columbus said, “but I would be honoured if you and your crew would join us.”
“They aren’t really my crew,” said Zakmeister, “and only one knows much of sailing. But we’d all willingly join your ship.”
“I shall carry you comfortably to wherever your own ship is anchored,” Columbus said. “Unless you must wait here for it to pick you up.”
“Um, no,” said Bayldon, “we’d be more than delighted to sail with you, my friend. But you can leave us on the next dry land we reach. No need to wait for our ship.”
“Your cook will be especially welcome,” called one of the crew.
“I shall tell Brewster,” laughed Poppy. “But ‘the cook’ isn’t what we usually call him.”
“No matter. You’re all welcome,” Columbus said, and led the way to the little rowing boats which had been pulled down to the water again, and were bobbing on the tide. It was high tide now, and the sea came right up onto the beach. They had to trot through the water to reach the little boats. Helpful hands reached down from the caravel, La Pinta, helping the newcomers up on-board before the boats then returned to land to pick up the rest of the crew. Once everybody stood on deck, the captain called his orders and immediately every Spanish sailor started running. The sails were unfurled, roped to the booms, and turned to face the wind. Gradually the anchor was hauled up and the ropes unhooked, coiled into place, and brushed free of salt. The decks were also swept, and gradually the great ship inched out to sea. The sails caught the wind, a fresh briny breeze slapped the sails against the masts, the ship turned into the current, and out they travelled into the deep ocean, catching the waves and pitching towards the glittering horizon.
At first Columbus was at the tiller, but soon he called his First Mate to take over, and wandered over to speak with Bayldon, Zakmeister and Messina. John, wind in his hair and excitement in his eyes, hurried over to a group of the sailors. He loved being at sea and wanted to help. They greeted him and were happy to let him join them, for he was no longer considered too young and it was obvious that he was experienced.
Poppy, Alice and Sam were not sure what to do, and hadn’t yet learned to balance on a pitching deck, so they clung to the gunwales and watched the waves. But Peter sat on one of the old wooden chests beneath the secondary mast, and drew out his lute. He didn’t know any sea songs, so he shouted to one of the men. “Sing a song of the sea,” he called, “and I’ll catch up on the tune.”
Two of the men looked up, stamped their feet for the rhythm, and clapped their hands. They began to sing a fast paced jig, words of the sea, the waves, the whales and the dolphins. Other men, loving the sound of this, came over to join in. So did Poppy and Alice, and both of them joined hands and started to dance, while Sam clapped.
“Tis a proper sea shanty,” called John, shouting over from the mast where he was helping the men.
Fernando watched, delighted, and joked with Brewster. “Music pleases everyone,” said Fernando.
Brewster, to everyone’s surprise, turned a running somersault, and nearly fell over the side of the boat into the water.
Immediately they saw a pod of dolphins swimming close by, leaping and twirling from the waves just as though they were also enjoying the music, and were dancing to the tune. The other sailors hurried to the gunwales and watched, pointing with pleasure as the leading dolphin leapt in a great spinning twist and then dived back in with a huge splash.
“Well, well,” said Columbus, walking up, Zakmeister, Messina and Bayldon beside him. “What a great day we’re having. The men will remember this for a long time. With their stomachs full from last night, the music and singing, and now the fish playing along. It’s unusual to have all this together. Life on a long voyage is usually hunger, thirst and hard work.”
“You must see dolphins and whales often?” asked Bayldon.
“Only at a distance,” said Columbus. “These are chasing our bow wave, as if they are having a race with us and enjoying the music.”
Peter changed his tune several times, first fast, then a slow pace, then another faster still. Everyone except John had come to listen, to watch the dolphins, and to clap. John was enjoying himself just as much at the tiller. He could hear, see, and also practise what he loved.
It was dry bread, water, dusty ale, and salted bacon for the early midday meal, and again for the evening. There was so much talking, everyone had to shout over each other, and even Messina was enjoying herself. But there was only one cabin for the captain, which he offered to the three females, Poppy said no, but Messina accepted for Alice and herself. Everyone else curled up on deck, for the warmth was like music too – a drifting hazy balm of warm delight. Within minutes many of the men were snoring, but Poppy sat for some time talking to her father. “We have to go home soon, I suppose,” she said. “It’s a shame. This is beautiful.”
“I’m afraid we aren’t just here to amuse ourselves, my dear,” Bayldon answered her. “We have a great deal to achieve back home, and although it seems that Brewster is of two minds and wants to be both our friend as well as our enemy, there is Clebbster to deal with. Yaark is still a probable danger somewhere. We have to face the difficulties.”
“I know,” Poppy sighed, looking up at the great arch of stars in the rich navy sky stretching above. The stars and the crescent moon were reflected in the ocean around them, and it felt as though they were floating in the heavens amongst the stars themselves.
You deserve a short holiday, my dear,” he told her. “But tomorrow, when your mother gets all her magic back, we have to go home.”
They woke to unexpected drizzle and a long coastline before them.
“Another new land,” Poppy whispered as she leaned over the side, watching as the long low sliver of coastline came closer and closer, seemingly growing larger and larger. Soon they could all see the dank drip, drip of the drizzle across the dull sandy strip that bordered the ebbing tide. “But,” she added, “still a part of America.
This time the captain did not hear her. He was too busy shouting orders, mobilising his crew to drop anchor as the neared the bay, pulling down the sails, detaching the booms, getting ready to let down the little boats to take them to shore.
“This time,” Messina murmured in her daughter’s ear, “we leave for home. Deben’s vile curse has faded. Another hour, perhaps, and my power will be fully returned.”
Brewster, hearing her words, lifted his cap to her, bowing with a wide grin. “The illustrious majesty returns,” he said. “I have no complaints. My delightful father will be wondering where I am.”
“With your new friends,” said Poppy at once.
“What sweet words,” Brewster cackled as he walked off to climb into one of the rowing boats. “Poppsy-woppsy pickle and purr, pass the pumpkin and stroke its fur. Tipsy-wipsy, muckle and moss, get ready to dance, for I’m the boss.”
Poppy shook her head. “Mad as a hatter.”
Bayldon took her hand. “Come on, my dear, first into the boat. We row ashore, explore an exciting new beginning but don’t get too wet. Then we go home.”
She didn’t admit that she really didn’t feel like going home yet. She was having too much fun.
As she climbed from the little rowing boat with the others all around her, she quickly realised that this was a very similar island to the one where they had anchored the day before, but there was a somewhat important difference. Up on the crest of a low hill just ahead, were shapes running, disappearing, but still watching. These natives seemed a good deal less welcoming.
