Island Captive

[Morrighan O'Byrne]

As Catherine boarded the tall ship and watched the English shore drift away for the last time in her life, the young woman couldn't help but smile; she was going back to the New World to marry the man she loved. To marry for love was a rare matter in her world, most girls were betrothed to the man their parents chose for them. In time they could hope for affection, but love rarely was a product of such unions. Her father was a merchant and she was his only child, her mother had passed when she was young and she'd traveled the seas with him.

Well versed in the perils that the ocean presented, Catherine did not become alarmed when the waters began to toss and turn as swells grew and the sun finally fell below the horizon. Her father directed her to her cabins as waves began to send water spewing across the deck and the 17 year old gladly obliged. Once in her cabins she undid her long blonde hair from it's tress and diligently brushed it, running her hands through it before tying it back up for the night. In the small mirror seafoam green eyes looked back at her and lush lips smiled in satisfaction. She changed out of her clothing and slipped into a white cotton chemise and then crawled into her bunk to wait the storm out.

The hours passed and still the rock of the boat did not abate, instead it seemed as though the sea was growing angered by the ship's resistance to the wave as the winds roared in disdain. Catherine could not sleep, as for once she wondered whether the ship's crew would be able to handle the sea's rage. As time continued to pass it seemed as though the boat was being pitched about like a toy, dipping perilously close to capsizing and then righting itself up again. The young woman could only sit in fear, unable to aid the men that she knew would be scrambling to keep control in the turmoil.

All of a sudden there was a pounding on her door and her father's yells could be heard, urging her to come out. Scrambling and desperately trying to maintain her balance as she opened the door, Catherine felt the spray of water as it fell down the hatch. Her father grabbed her arm, hauling her up and on deck as another wave came to smash against the boat. For a moment they slid across the deck and then her father got his footing once again. The voices around her from the men told her that the ship was going down, there was nothing that could be done. Already her bow was dipping into the waves, the sea winning its battle. There was a row boat and her father helped her into it as the two men inside kept her against the ship long enough for her to climb in. Crying, she tried to get her father to come along, but true to his calling he would remain on board the ship with the men he'd traveled with for his whole life.

Without wasting further time, the row boat cast off into the waves, the men straining against the waters. As they slowly moved away, Catherine watched in horror as the ship containing her father pitched to its side one last time and was swallowed in the dark waters. For the next few hours the men battled the abating waves as the sun slowly began to rise. It seemed as though they were to succeed when a final vicious wave came to slam against their little boat, dragging Catherine into the waters with it.

* * *​

When Catherine awoke she found herself lying on a white sandy beach, various articles from the shipwreck strewn about her. Her chemise was torn and stained, her head throbbed painfully from where it had struck the boat and there was dried blood on her temple, but she appeared to be otherwise unharmed. Sitting up, the young woman winced and looked around, finding herself alone in the heat of the sun on what appeared to be a tropical island. The events of the past night then hit her and realizing she was stuck without family or any way home, she rested her head on her knees and began to cry.

Talking​

 

[HotTexasCowboy]

Itu'ki took another careful step through the jungle foliage, his placement careful to avoid any twigs or pile of leaves that might alert their prey. His lean, muscular body was stained with random streaks of colored paste: green, black, and white, to help him blend in with the surrounding plants. All his life he had been trained to be silent and invisible. In this way, the animals he stalked would not see him until it was too late for them, and his spear would fly with accuracy to end its life and make a meal for his family for days.

His family, however, consisted only of him and his son Jenuk'tu. The lean young man was several yards astride his father, echoing his footsteps as they moved in on a large bird feasting on the scraps they had set out the day before. Jenuk's body was almost a twin of his father's, both men having been trained since birth to be hunters and, if necessary, warriors. Their forms, not camouflaged in the dyes their tribe had long perfected, were sculpted of muscle and sinew, with not an ounce of fat to ruin their precise control of their element. Itu was an exceptional hunter, and Jenuk was fast becoming his father's equal. The older man's wiry growth of black hair had the faintest traces of gray, which in his tribe marked him as an elder of great respect. Lesser men did not live to see the appearance of any gray. Yet, despite the coloring, no one would have mistaken the man as anything but a brilliant, accomplished killer.

With infinite slowness, his arm and chest muscles flexing, Itu moved his spear into throwing position. Jenuk also cocked his spear, as a backstop in case the bird spooked at the last second. But Itu's spear flew true, piercing through the vulture, which flapped helplessly on the ground for a few seconds before becoming still. Itu and Jenuk were on it in seconds, Itu's knife slicing through the large bird's neck to sever its head. There was enough meat here to feed them for three meals, maybe four. And then the hunt would resume. The two men, dressed only in loincloths held by animal sinew straps, smiled at each other as they set about stripping the carcass feathers, when Jenuk suddenly cocked his head and stood, looking toward the beach and the barely heard crashing waves. Itu was crouched at work, but seeing his son instantly stopped and rose himself. For men attuned to their environment, there was something different about the waves and the cries of the animals they should be hearing but weren't. The animals were spooked by something, going silent in the face of some unexpected presence.

With only expressions, no words, the two men signaled a strategy to reconnoiter. Itu tucked the bird by its talons into his loincloth strap (leaving it behind would mean it would be stolen away by the rodents, insects, and other carrion birds), and the two men separated again, moving carefully through the rain forest toward the beach. The foliage ended a few hundred yards from the ocean waves crashing into a flat sandy beach. Neither man would venture from the safety of the jungle until they were sure they could handle the threat, or for a reward worth the risk.

And treasure is what they saw! The beach strewn with lumber and crates, which could be taken back to the village and used to strengthen their huts against the tropical storms that sometimes blew away huts made of weaker material. And... a wahini, one of the pale skinned humans who they knew traveled the great sea in houses that floated. Yes, The People were aware of the white skinned ones; a few had parked their great boats off the beach and come ashore to get fresh water from the mountain streams of The People. A generation ago, one wild member of the white skinned had come to stay, living among them for years. They tolerated his presence as he learned their language and tried to tell them of the white God, but they knew the power of their god that lived in the fire mountain, so the missionary died of fever without converts.

But this white skinned was a woman, a young woman of child-bearing age. They could tell that even with her ridiculous covers. And that was a prize more valued than any other, and the two men instantly knew they would claim her.

Like any prey, they would approach her in a pincer, trapping her between them. Jenuk, his head shaved as befits one who had not yet produced a son, moved swiftly from the left, and Itu came from the right, boxing her in as she struggled to right herself from the sand. Their spears were sheathed over their shoulders now, for this treasure was not to be harmed.

 

[Morrighan O'Byrne]

The sun soon had Catherine's chemise and hair dried, a light breeze coming to ruffle the wavy strands in an almost comforting fashion. She had cried until no more tears had come and then she'd dozed, exhausted from her ordeal and wallowing in the misery of her current predicament. For how many years had she voyaged with her father? They had always survived the storms with minimal losses and been met with successful voyages, now that her wedding date was approaching it seemed as though fortune had run out. H

Talking​