The Way of the Warrior - Chris Bradford [8]
Then fortune was on their side. They reached the safety of a cove. The ocean had suddenly calmed, the Alexandria eased down and the water level quickly fell away. Jack recalled sucking in the rancid air of the bilge like it was the sweetest mountain breeze as his head cleared the surface and he heard the heavy whomp of the anchor being dropped.
Recovering now on the quarterdeck, the pure sea air cleared his head and his stomach began to settle.
Jack stared out to sea, her waves now gently lapping around the hull, the roar of the tempest replaced by the early morning call of seabirds and the occasional creak of the rigging.
He let his mind drift with the peace of it all. Within minutes a glorious crimson sun peaked above the ocean to reveal a spectacular sight.
The Alexandria lay in the centre of a picturesque cove with a towering headland that jutted out into the ocean. The bluff was swathed in lush green cedar trees and red pines, and a glorious golden beach rimmed its inner bay. The cove’s emerald-green waters were alive with an ever-shifting rainbow of coloured fish.
Jack’s attention was drawn by something catching the morning light on the peninsula. He lifted his father’s spyglass to his eye to get a better look. Among the trees stood an exquisite building that appeared to have grown out of the rock itself. Jack had never seen anything quite like it.
Perched upon a massive stone pedestal were a series of pillars made of deep-red wood. Each pillar had been painstakingly gilded in gold leaf with images of what appeared to be dragons and exotic swirling symbols. Resting upon these pillars were intricately tiled roofs that curled up towards the heavens. At the very peak of the highest roof was a tall thin spire of concentric golden circles that pierced the forest canopy. In front of the building, and dominating the bay, a huge standing stone thrust up from the ground. This too was engraved with the same ornate symbols.
Jack was trying to figure out what the symbols were, when he glimpsed movement.
Next to the standing stone a glorious white stallion was tethered, and in its shadow, barely reaching the height of the saddle, was a slim dark-haired girl. She appeared as ephemeral as a spirit. Her skin was as white as snow, while her hair, black and mysterious as jet, cascaded down past her waist. She wore a blood-red dress that shimmered in the haze of the early morning light.
Jack was transfixed. Even at this distance, he could feel her gaze. He raised his hand hesitantly in greeting. The girl remained motionless. Jack waved again. This time the girl bowed ever so slightly.
‘Oh, glorious day!’ exclaimed a voice from behind. ‘One so much sweeter for the passing of the storm.’
Jack turned round to see his father admiring the ruby-red disc of the sun as it rose over the ocean.
‘Father, look!’ cried Jack, pointing to the girl on the peninsula. His father glanced up and searched the headland.
‘I told you, son! This land is gilded with gold,’ he said jubilantly, pulling Jack to him. ‘They even build their temples with the very stuff…’
‘No, not the building, father, the girl and…’ But the girl and the horse had disappeared. Only the standing stone remained. It was as if she had been carried away on a breeze.
‘What girl? You’ve been too long at sea!’ teased his father, a knowing smile on his lips, which quickly faded as if stolen by a forgotten memory. ‘Far too long…’
He trailed off, gazing mournfully at the headland.
‘I should never have brought you, Jack. It was foolhardy of me.’
‘But I wanted to come,’ insisted Jack. ‘Like you said, to be the first Englishman to set foot in Japan.’
‘Your mother – God rest her soul – would never have allowed it. She would have wanted you to stay home with Jess.’
‘Yes, but my mother didn’t even allow me to cross the docks without holding her hand!’
‘And for good reason, Jack!’ he replied, the smile returning to his lips. ‘You were always one to seek out adventure. You’d have probably jumped aboard some ship