Wrong Turn

The sailor’s huddled against the bow of the ship as a sliver of land appeared on the horizon.

Their captain standing behind them wanted a better look so he pushed them out of the way. James Major a scruffy man of average height wore a white and blue captain’s hat and a purple pin on his shoulder that demonstrated he was the Royal Navy elite.  

“That’s it boys!” he exclaimed. “TREASURE AWAITS!”

Commissioned by the Royal Navy of England James was on a mission to meet with a foreign tribe for an exchange of goods.

The tall palm trees and the beach came into view, as their giant vessel rolled forward over the waves. About a mile offshore they dropped anchor and began filling their rowboats with supplies. Then they lowered them into the water and began paddling towards the shore.

“Sir,” James’s 1^st lieutenant interjected between grunts. “This looks different than the way the Royal Navy described. I believe they said there would be snowing.”

“Nonsense, can’t you see those old losers at the Navy got it wrong.”

“Yes sir,” he responded.

“LAND HOE,” he cried out as their rowboat touched down onto the rock and sand.

The pebbles sparkling under their feet the sailor’s covered their eyes and inspected the area around. Despite the captain’s optimism it seemed like something was wrong.

Or maybe it was the crew’s hopelessness. Only half of the crew had survived the journey. The voyage to the island had started out with high hopes. Now that the men had finally come across their destination though, their morale was all but empty.

Looking on the faces of his battered and beaten crewmates, James Major smiled though.

“Sir, are you sure this is the right place?” his 2nd lieutenant urged.

“Why are all of you so scared..” He replied, “there is no reason to be afraid. These are the exact coordinates that the Royal Navy gave me.”

James pulled a crumpled napkin from his pocket and displayed the nearly illegible writing that appeared to say 54.5 degrees South and 45.6 degrees West.

“But sir, it was only supposed to be a few days journey. We are almost three months into it.”

“I was told that a group would see us coming and meet us on the beach.”

As if on cue a group of men walked out from behind the trees and stood in front of the sailors, clutching sharp spears and hatches in their hands. A few with red war paint across their cheeks and wearing patchwork pieces of hide began to shriek. The sailor’s felt a chill pass down their spine.

“Hello my good men,” James called out to the group approaching them.

They pulled out more weapons and shouted in their native language.

“Good, that is wonderful, the company prepared me for this.” He replied, “Dangar Uktor Crock.”

As if the men suddenly understood, they smiled and put away their weapons. They grabbed his hands, and as his fellow navy men began to yell, James explained, “they said they would be rough. Nothing to be concerned about boys.”

“I was told to do the negotiations on my own…Just wait..with…the ship…boys.” He shouted as the natives carried him off.

The group of men carried him up the hill into a small circle of tiki huts. The entire village was made of a little less than two dozen people. The men dragged James into the middle of a group of women working around a fire pit. Standing there, the red embers began to feel warm under his feet.

“Dangar Uktok Crock?” He repeated as the group of people gathered around each other to discuss something.

“I believe that there should be a representative who speaks English.”

That is when a young woman emerged from the shadows.

She inspected him everywhere, pulling aside his cheeks to check his gums. Then ripping his clothes off and splashing some slimy red mud over his bare flesh.  

“Haha,” he announced, “this does seem quite forward.”

Some others brought out a large black cauldron.

“Oh, how wonderful you’ve prepared a bath for me. This is all making sense I heard you were extremely gracious hosts.”

The men pushed James into the boiling water.

“Oh, how hot this is,” he said as the entire group chanted. Dark words filled the air, and the energy began to shift.

“So, I hope eventually we will be able to discuss where the treasure is that you’ve discovered? Is there anyone amongst you who speaks English I was told there would be.”

That’s when the heat began to crank up.

“My goodness, this is quite hot would you mind turning it down?”

A man with feathers covering his body and wearing an elaborate head piece constructed of bones rounded the corner. His deep voice began to pierce the groups chanting.

The shaman’s black lips curled and flicked as their chanting grew louder.  He crossed behind James and held out his hands. One of the young boys walked up and placed a bucket full of a bubbling liquid in his palms. James screamed as a searing sulfurous liquid dripped down his body. “Awwwww, I see this must be one of those new age skin treatments I’ve been hearing about.” He huffed, “I’ve heard they are all the rage. I guess it’s true what they say beauty is pain.”

Then the man strapped him to a tall log and propped him over the firepit. The chanting continued as they all held hands around him. The shaman lighting the pile of wood on fire.

“I’m not sure I was told anything about this.” He says to them.

Finally, he began to sob, but not for the reasons you think. In fact, he didn’t feel much of anything. He cried because he would need to admit to his crew that he was lost.

After everyone had fallen asleep, he rose up from the ashes and walked back to the beach. As he began to pile their supplies back into the rowboat and while ignoring questions from his crewmates, he explained in a testy tone that seemed like a whisper, “I think we made a wrong turn.”