CHAPTER 24 - FLOUNDER

Shortly before dawn Kees and Macboy arose from their downy beds in a warm little room on the second floor of the Elvin Nose in Jurang Port Town. Both Kees and Macboy removed the contents of their packs and carefully laid out their possessions before repacking them for an ocean voyage. They gave careful attention to their weapons, ensuring, that if needed the weapons would not fail to deliver their deadly intent. The fishing fleet would return to the port today and they hoped to charter a small boat and a captain to take them to mainland about 40 kilometers away to the north. The day would be long and possibly dangerous.

Kees stepped to the small high window, pulled back the thin pale white curtain and stared onto the town plaza below. Fog obscured everything in a dark enfolding blanket which covered the entire port, including the seacoast and even reaching far into the foothills and valleys inland. Macboy finished lacing his pack and turned to Kees.

“Time to go,” whispered Kees, “its best to leave in the quiet.”

“Yes,” agreed Macboy, “and with fewer complications as well.” Macboy laughed a small chuckle. Kees smiled.

They slipped out the door and into a dark and quiet hallway and proceeded down the steep narrow stairs. The bar was empty, as was the snuggery, and the embers in the fireplace cast a dull orange glow across the room. Kees opened the door and slipped into the still black mist followed by Macboy. The two Omega Squad members crossed the plaza silently and climbed the little grass covered hill behind the square. They set down their packs and waited for the fog to leave. The fog was easily irritated by the sun, but determined to return when the sun turned his back in a few hours.

Kees tapped Macboy on the shoulder and then closed his eyes and dozed off. Macboy listened carefully in the fog and waited for the warming rays of the sun. Soon the inky blackness faded to Payne’s grey and then to a simple grey. Kees woke up as the first bits of clear sky began to form above the mist and the sounds of a port town awaking could be heard on the hill. In the distance a child was calling out a name, probably a dog called home from a tryst or an adventure. Someone was coughing in the plaza. A smoker thought Kees. Kees heard the screech of a swollen door jam giving way to an opening door, as a child’s laughter echoed in the distance. A dog began barking, bragging of last night’s adventures or complaining about rejection. It was hard for Kees to tell which it was, because the dog wasn’t very verbal at this time of the morning. In just a few moments the grey fog faded and the plaza looked as if it were viewed through a damp and dirty window. Then in a few moments the plaza burst into sunlight and the fog retreated about 100 yards off shore. The estuary, Kees could see, was still shrouded in fog but a bubble of fire could be seen just at the tip of the estuary. A bonfire to guide in the fishing fleet realized Kees. Then the deep bass church bell began to chime. A regular pattern of chimes also intended to help the fleet find home and safety.


Macboy took his monocular and looked into the church tower. The snipers were gone. Too loud thought Macboy, the bell was too loud for them to maintain their station. He scanned the rest of the plaza and the intruders from the city were nowhere to be seen. They are not early risers realized Macboy.

In about an hour a tiny white boat, no larger than a small car, popped out of the fog bank and into the clear sunny bay. Within moments small skiffs and dories appeared like baby ducks paddling swiftly and seeking the warmth and safety of their mother. Fisherfolk in black rain slickers pulled hard on oars and the sound of splashing and singing could be heard even upon the hill where Kees and Macboy sat leaning against their packs. Women in full patterned dresses with aprons and children were lining the breakwater, waiting for the family to unite, and to feast upon the bounty of the seas of Second Life. Baskets had been piled upon the pier and the breakwater, waiting for fortune and fate wrung from the depths of the ocean. The women folk began to wave and the larger children as well. The little boats seemed to pick up a bit of speed as they approached the shore. The port was alive. The church bell in the tower went quiet and Macboy could see the two snipers had returned to their station. Green and the other tugs were not to be seen, but fresh smoke streamed from the chimney of their cottage on the square.

A thin young boy stood upon the far end of the breakwater. He leaned into the light breeze and began to sing.

“Come all you young sailorfolk,
listen to me
I'll sing you a song of the fish in the sea,
and it's...”

A moment later the fisherfolk pulling on the oars replied in strong voices with a refrain,

“Windy weather boys,
stormy weather, boys
When the wind blows we're all together, boys
Blow ye winds westerly,
blow ye winds, blow
Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes.”

A good catch thought Kees, and no losses. They would not sing if there had been a loss.

The boy waved. Then he sang again.

“Up jumps the eel with his slippery tail,
Climbs up aloft and reefs the topsail,
and it's..”

A chorus followed but this time louder and with more energy. The little boats increased their speed to shore as the sailors pulled even harder on their oars.

“Windy weather boys,
stormy weather, boys
When the wind blows we're all together, boys
Blow ye winds westerly,
blow ye winds, blow
Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes.”

Kees smiled and thought about the rhythms of the sea and the port of Jurang. Moments ago the sleepy village lay in slumber and in the obscuring comfort of a blanket of fog. Now the village was awake and alive. Waving, singing, preparing for a feast, happy honest fisher folk gathering to welcome their own to home and hearth.

The first boat approached the shore and two fisher folk in the bow jumped onto the stony waters and pulled the boat ashore with the gentle scrape of wet wood on small round wet stones. Children and youth ran yelling and laughing to help haul the lines. Wives and grandmothers shielded their eyes with their hands from the bright glare of the sun searching for loved ones. As each waiting wife, or mother, or girlfriend, recognized hers, she rose on her tip toes and waved. Happy and relieved thought Kees. Fishing is a dangerous business.

In moments the entire fleet was beached and three larger two masted vessels tied to the pier. The fleet was home and the port was alive. Soon baskets were filled with seaweed and shiny fresh fish with bright eyes. Kees could smell the fish and the seaweed. The fish smelled good and clean thought Kees, not like the fish you purchased in the city so far away to the north. Small carts began to haul the fish into the distance, to the cannery or to an icehouse down the road. Wives embraced husbands. Children gathered round and even teens pressed their kin in the embrace of welcome and thanksgiving. Often a large fish or lobster was held aloft and the wife or girlfriend beamed at the thought of a fresh catch as the center piece of the afternoon table.

Macboy stood and stretched. Leaving his pack on the hill he turned and went down the far side of the hill away from the village and walked into the village along the gravel road from the south. Macboy could see that the snipers in the church tower took notice, and as he approached the town square, Green and two thugs stepped out of their rented cottage and rubbed their eyes. They have had a long night thought Macboy.

Macboy spotted the red haired Irish from a distance and shouted. Irish waved, and came running to him. They embraced and Macboy whirled Irish around in a circle as he kissed her. Green lost interest and turned back to the warmth of the cottage as did his two thugs. Macboy could see that the snipers had also lost interest. Some local they must have thought. Just another stupid local.

Macboy let Irish down and asked, “Find me a small boat and a captain?”

“Aye,” said Irish “and a good one at that.”

“Lle vesta?” asked Macboy.

“Ed' i'ear ar' elenea!” replied Irish. Then they embraced again. Hand and hand they walked to the beach and toward a freshly painted white flat bottom, high bow, flaring sides dory. A bearded man and a youth were lugging a basket of flounder onto the shore. The man looked up and smiled at Irish and then at Macboy.

Irish spoke holding Macboy’s left arm in both her hands, “This is Macboy, Uncle Pysgotwr.” Macboy saw that Irish was positively gleaming in the radiant sun.

“Pleased to meet ya,” said Pysgotwr.

“Saesa omentien lle,” replied Macboy extending his hand. Pysgotwr wrinkled his brow a bit in surprise and gave Macboy a very firm hand.

Pysgotwr turned to the west and toward the church tower then he turned back to Macboy. “Sereg'wethrin,” he said motioning with his head to the tower. “Assassins,” he repeated as he shook his head. Then he turned back to unload a basket of flounder. Macboy stepped forward and helped bring the catch to the shore. A cart soon appeared and Pysgotwr began to haggle a bit with a small old fellow about the price and the difficulties of the sea, and the unreliability of the ferry, and then they settled on a price. The little man spit into his hand as did Pysgotwr and they shook hands. With Macboy’s help four baskets of fish were loaded onto the cart. Pysgotwr turned to the Elvin Nose and said, “Malia ten' yulna? Perhaps a wee dram to liven the spirits and begin the day.” Macboy nodded yes, and together the three of them strolled across the stone plaza to the Elvin Nose.

In the distance Macboy heard a me-Phone ringing from the church tower.