FISHERMAN'S PRIZE - PART 3

 FISHERMAN'S PRIZE

PART- 3

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

FISHERMAN’S STORY

SECTION 3

 

The (salvaged) girl had fortuitously survived her ordeal and because of several weeks of diligent, patient care, recovered in full. Recognizing these two as her benefactors, the moment that she had regained her strength and was able to, she had bowed to them with deep respect and uttered her name, words of gratitude, as well, promised to repay their kindness in full. Though her foreign language, the strange dialect had not been comprehensible (well understood), her sincere intent nevertheless transcending the barriers was fully communicated. They, in turn, responded with glowing faces, delighted words, and heartfelt, warm embraces, taking her to their bosoms as one of their own.

When the girl’s sunburned, chapped skin completely healed leaving no scar: she was revealed to them as one whose radiance and ravishing beauty rivaled that of Goddesses. Her striking good looks however mattered truly little to these simple, honest folks, with whom any young female would have sufficed and as well appreciated.  A gemstone cast amidst the worthless pebbles on the beach, she received no special recognition for her timeless beauty. In fact, her delicate poise, far from receiving admiration or special regard, gave them pause for concern (and added worry). As a result, they attempted to toughen her constitution up and they forced on her extra rations and arduous work.

  From the beginning, since they’d found it most difficult to pronounce or remember her real name, they chose another name for her in its stead.  They adapted the name Jiense, most common one in use in these parts and one most favored by the local fishermen, for their wives or female children, for it meant “Pearl of the Sea”.

In the ensuing days, the girl’s different vocabulary naturally presented some unavoidably awkward, cumbersome moments. Kaimu seeing the need charged Ensa with the added responsibility of educating the girl with Wenjenkun’s own vernacular. Despite all good intentions, however, pressing workload and daily chores had often hindered progress. The negligible communication gap meanwhile had been bridged by more effective, readily available sign language.

Needless to say, Kaimu and Ensa in all this time had taken every precaution to conceal Jiense’s presence from the unwanted, intrusive eyes of lawbreakers, racketeers that might be frequenting the region. Fortunately, as well, their nearest neighbor Zianko, one who had a questionable character, had been absent from his home for several months now; as Ensa suspected, undoubtedly engaged in yet another illicit plunder!

Over time, the absence of any formal or informal inquiry eased both Kaimu and Ensa’s trepidation. Having taken a genuine liking to this gentle soul from the start, Ensa gave no further thought to the girl’s leaving them, and to the delight of Kaimu, from then on began considering the precious thing in her heart and mind, as her very own future daughter-in-law.

On Kaimu’s part, by keeping in check his uncouth nature, he had learned to be gentler in speech, exercise patience and tolerance. So as not to scare off Jiense, he constrained his ill temper even when things did not go well; meanwhile avoiding any direct dealings with Jiense and leaving the job of molding her to their way of thinking, entirely to his wife's ability. As a result, Jiense encountered no ill effects or adverse experiences with Kaimu.

  As she had remained ignorant of her true whereabouts, and at the same time felt obligated to stay with these generous, decent folks to repay their kindness, Jiense for the time being at least, had postponed any notion of departure (leaving them).  She had no way of knowing of course that the spare room she stayed in, the room belonging to their son Yoansu, had been already pegged, designated as her future nuptial room. As she was sweet natured and easygoing, before long she had even gotten used to the coarse furnishings and the sorry absence of any decoration about.  The few belongings that had been left behind by the son had of course been secured in a locked, cumbersome wood chest in the far corner of the room. 

In addition to helping Ensa with her daily chores Jiense also learned a few other helpful skills, like mending the torn nets, weaving straw baskets or mats for additional funds, or added use. By now she could start a fire and cook meals their way, using the most primitive means that was available to her in this small dwelling. Her delicate hands under the strain of work broke in calluses, and her tender skin often bled from the cuts caused by the coarse materials she managed. The menial, demeaning jobs, ones that in the past would have been shunned by her lowliest servant were nonetheless completed by her nimbly and with no outward show of discontent. After the grueling day’s work, each night Jiense collapsed on her coarse bed and slept soundly without dreams or nightmares in exhausted state. She was driven hard, but remained contented for she received ample love, appreciation, and compassion.

 

And so, in this way two or three months had quickly passed.

                                                         

At this forlorn corner climate being particularly harsh, spring’s arrival had always been late in coming. It was yet another particularly chilling overcast night. Howling winds had kept up their tyranny all day long and now continued well into the night without any let up. The half-crescent moon periodically peeked, as the ominous cumulus clouds raced across the night’s sky.

In this god-forsaken night, three mounted riders galloped the barren stretch of land, fearful lest they’d be detected. Reaching Zianko’s dwelling, they abruptly came to a halt and dismounted. As the moon had gone in prolonged hiding, in that pitch darkness where visibility was almost nil (zero) except for the flash of sheet lightening within clouds that periodically (intermittently) illuminated the ground: the nocturnal animals had witnessed nervous horses drenched in sweat, being quickly tethered to the side. Two of the men busied themselves with the fastened cargo, whilst the third one pulled down from the horse’s back an abstract bundle concealing the bound and gagged figure of a man, and with some difficulty carried his heavy load inside the house. The windows had already been bolted shut with heavy shutters, discouraging any light or illegal entry. A small candle was quickly lit to effort them scant visibility. The stout fellow with the distinguishing mustache who appeared to be in charge, after peeking from the adjusted slats of the shutters turned to address Zianko.

“What about that cabin, your nearest neighbor- are you sure it will be all right? Shouldn’t we take the precautionary measure of disposing them?”

“It’s not necessary as it’s beyond the hearing range. And besides, do you know who dwells in that seemingly vulnerable, dilapidated cabin?” Zianko responded haughtily, with a smirk.

“Who?” The other’s curiosity was aroused.

“The parents of number 2 boss of the notorious “Ravens Gang”.

“You don’t say?” The other two men in one voice, aghast, came forward to ask.

“No kidding!” Zianko smirked.

“But the whole place is so rundown!”

“Go figure!” Zianko smiled wryly, and took in a breath, prolonging their suspense, before extrapolating. (Offering added explanation.)

“Kaimu, number two boss’s father, is a stubborn old coot. His wife Ensa is worse! She is a pious hag who insists on upholding morality and living with integrity. They would have been a ripe picking for any criminal and fallen prey a long, long time ago had it not been for this connection. But want a laugh? The old folks are ignorant of their son’s power and prestige.” He laughed.

“That must be convenient.” One of them interjected.

Zianko disinterestedly shrugged. “I’ve had no dealings with them since my wife died.”

“You mean murdered.”  The youngest one of the bunches snickered (countered). “Whatever.” Zianko winked at the other two. “Ensa is a shrew that controls that old man. Anyhow, back then, she insisted on exposing me; persisted in her bizarre hypothesis that I had something to do with my wife’s murder. A raw erupted and we have not been on speaking terms since.”

“Never mind about that,” Just then the fellow with a mustache coming away from the window interjected. “We haven’t got time for idle gossip.” Then turning to squarely face Zianko, in a stern voice added: “Now you know what is expected of you. Nevertheless, till you hear a definite word from us, I want you to lay off him.” With his chin he indicated the bound, drugged unconscious stout official that had been dumped at the far corner of the room. “Just in case things go array or more proof of a body part is needed. Meanwhile, I caution you to stay well out of sight. If she is as inquisitive as you claim, she may bring unwarranted trouble to us. Opportunists are everywhere. The abduction has already caused quite a stir. Hence, not a soul must be wizened to the whereabouts of this fiend! Have I made myself clear?”

“Great, now I’m a babysitter.” Zianko grumbled.

“You’ll be well compensated for your services.” The leader frowned. “If you blow it however, you shall suffer far worse consequences then him.”

“I don’t respond well to threats!” Zianko’s face, pitted against the leaders, flushed bead red in anger. But then relenting, he held his temper in check and turning, he asked instead.

“Am I expected to feed him too?”

“Do as you like.”  The leader scowled. “His fate would be the same either way.”

“Hungry corpse would be easier to dispose of after all.” Zianko grumbled under his breath, then turning to face the other two, asked: “Now can one of you help me carry him to the cellar before you go?”

Not waiting for their answer however, he pushed aside the table and rolled back the square rattan floor covering to reveal a trap door underneath. He grasped hold of the round ring of the heavy trap door and with a heave, lifted it open. Instantly a pungent, foul smell escaping from the (pitched dark) cellar assailed their noses. 

“Phew!”  They averted their faces, scrunching their features with utter disdain.

“What’s down there, dead rats?” The youngest one pointing complained.

“Human corpses smell the same.” Zianko, the only one who wasn’t at all disturbed by the smell, indifferently shrugged. He picked up the lit candle and descended the steps quickly to clear away some clutter and to arrange for an adequate space.

When he again resurfaced, a designated volunteer helped him to deliver the unconscious hostage to the prepared spot. Zianko using strong ropes now fastened the stout official securely to the pole.

“Unfortunately, since your leader wants him alive for the time being, I have to keep this latch door open for a crack, otherwise he would suffocate.” He then grunted, as he came up. “That would be a bother.”

The leader had had enough of Zianko’s smugness.

“We’ve dallied here long enough!” He barked and walked towards the door. But before exiting, he half turned to say. “You should be hearing from us (a word) in four- or five-day’s time.”

                                                                                  ~

 

Ensuing days, quite unaware of the sinister goings on in Zianko’s residence- for as far as they were concerned Zianko was still far away (absent) - hard working Kaimu, Ensa and Jiense lived out their invariable mundane lives in equable peace and tranquility.

 

All this time, however, Zianko had been insufferably sequestered inside (confined indoors) and from daybreak to dusk he had to remain perfectly still and stationary (quiet and immobile). At latter part of the night when it was opportune to do so, covert beehive of activity always reached a crescendo. For Zianko could then light up the stove, cook and drink; he was at liberty to engage in numerous vile acts and torment his captive, or on occasion, walk about aimlessly under the cover of darkness outside. After an elapse of only three days the constrained lifestyle, however, had begun to take its toll on him. To while away (pass) the dreary daylight hours, Zianko therefore had more than once, peeped through a spy hole, hoping to see something extraordinary, in order to dispel his mounting irritation and to divert his boredom.  It was then that he spotted a third figure, a stranger milling about Kaimu’s residence. With his excellent vision (eyesight), he could discern the stranger’s exquisite facial features, the long flowing hair, and despite the plain attire, the petite (slender) shapely form of a tender youth, that gradually surmounted (piqued) Zianko’s interest.

Now about eight years Kaimu’s junior, Zianko had only been married once. And that had been to a young widower, with a young son named Tizan- who was the product from her previous marriage.

As she had been from an opulent family, somewhat fair in looks and well-endowed with feminine charms (parts), she would have gone on satisfying Zianko’s discriminating taste or needs for a good many years. But in just three years, the matrimonial bliss had come to an abrupt and violent end, not too long after she had struck up a close friendship with Ensa. 

To date, Zianko blamed Ensa for spinning (putting) those contemptible notions into his wife’s head.

Like the idea, of it being both moral and lawful, to pass the inheritance of her former late husband’s property to his bloodline, his only offspring!

In time the rift between Zianko and his wife had widened to an irreparable point (measure), as Zianko had been prevented from getting his grasping hands on the rest, the bulk of her estate. What is more, her former husband’s begotten family, and then reeled into this mess, had exercised their supposed rights, through bribery, to siphon away a good chunk of it.

Was I supposed to idly stand by and see it all disappear? If not for the meddling of Ensa, I would have had a free reign with it all! Zianko, while spying on the stranger, had once more become lost in angry revere.

 As he saw it, it was therefore all Ensa’s fault that he had to act fast and get rid of his increasingly difficult and uncooperative wife and stepson.

Indeed, timing being of the essence, before the boy had reached the age of ascent, a month or two before Tizan was to become twelve, Zianko had used every available means to secure, in his view, “what should have been rightfully his!”

Zianko had always, through such logic, rationalized his numerous brutal acts (deeds). This case being no different, his only regret had been- the eventual failure of the permanent disposal of the boy, who was an eyewitness to (of) his foul deed.

“How he hated loose ends! But the brat had been both agile and cunning!”

Incredibly, Tizan had successfully averted the virulent potions, the malignant food, and the pernicious traps; what’s more, persevering through prodigious (ghastly) physical and mental torments during his incarceration, had made good his escape.

“To date it boggles my mind,” Zianko with a frown, inwardly confessed. “The ingenious way the dastardly rat sprung himself from that cadaverous trap!”

It had taken Zianko many wasted years before he could relax his vigil and have the boy legally declared dead. It was after all, not an uncommon occurrence in these parts, for a man or a runaway boy in this case, having been at large, ultimately falling a pray to some predatory beasts or bandits.

Most of the wildlife at the edge of the foothills had been hunted down by then, but on occasion; some wild beast would still descend from the heights, in search of food.

One thing was for certain; the boy had never made it to the nearby town. And no one had ever heard or seen him since!

 

   (CONTINUES ON NEXT POST- PART 4)

 

 

FISHERMAN'S PRIZE (PART 1 )

 

FISHERMAN’S PRIZE

 

Part 1

 

 From the beginning of time the incessant northern storms had violently swept across the Sea of Kontu crashing against the sheer cliffs of Wenjenkun with tempestuous fury to permanently mar or mold crazed abstract forms on this already scarred, irredeemable land.  With fair days few and far between on this inhospitable strand, incredibly, a small number of persistent, stalwart fishermen still managed to eke out a meager subsistence from the unforgiving, turbulent sea.

 

                                                                          ~

              

Most recent of these storms, lasting in intensity without wane four or five days, had been so severe that only now, when it had barely subsided, the bravest, the most stubborn or the most desperate of men, would have dared venture into it.

It so happens that one such fisherman named Kaimu, in defiance of all reason, cursing the elements, at the crack of dawn had set his small craft out to sea. He’d reassured himself that he was on the whole in excellent physical health and though middle-aged (in his late 40’s) he was still agile enough and possessed great stamina/strength to meet any impending challenges that would be mated out to him by the exacting “Mother Nature”.  Now ordinarily, he too would have paid heed to nature’s dire warnings: after all, the overhead sky was still riddled with ominous, flotilla of (billowing) clouds! This aspect among others had deterred his fellow fishermen from the perilous enterprise. But as ill-luck would have it, resultant of his cursed land-born accident that had inevitably incapacitated him for a time- his patience and their meager life provisions had been reduced to nil.

      Nor could he stomach one more accursed, infernal root- for the supposed, medicinal sustenance!

A proud man, he’d never be caught dead opining, let alone receiving a handout from his closest neighbor; nevertheless, he had his wife Ensa to consider. In the last couple of days it had pained him to see her put through such hardships. Though she’d never once complained, now that he had his mobility back, nothing short of death would deter him from his resolve. 

Besides, having spent his entire existence, rather subsistence, at this desolate (forlorn, dismal) corner, he’d always had this strange love and hate relationship with the Sea. From childhood, fishing had been in his life’s blood. Now, as he charted alone, the precarious course, the fickle sea foaming at the mouth, sprayed his face in tauntingly in greeting- as at the same time the towering, churning waves embraced and somewhat gyrated his seemingly toy craft off its heading (mark).  Undaunted, he steered hard to remain on the intended bearing; but sporadically still, (every now and then) his boat would be helplessly tossed about and whirled (reeled) as if caught in the whims of an impetuous, harlot.

Tempestuous wench, I dare you to do your worst…You owe me, and I mean to reclaim my right!  He clenched his jaw in defiance with certain determination, mindful of the dangers abound, with every fiber of his being now poised to tackle the unexpected. Despite his layered clothing however, a shiver passed through him as the bitter cold mercilessly seeped into his lungs with every intake of breath. Sudden gusting, biting winds rising in intensity meanwhile buffeted his sleeves and admonishingly trashed his already etched sculptured features, making him squint.

Would this blasted weather ever subside (let up)?

Apart from his physical exertion, he was also quietly disconcerted deep down in his heart, to see so much wooden debris floating about on the surface water.  Far more than usual, far more than he’d anticipated. All evidence pointed to (foretold of) a vessel or vessels’ calamity; hence, loss of myriad lives!  Many torn pieces of flesh and bones would be fishmeal, but infinite number of identifiable human parts or corpses would also be washed ashore. Subsequently wild dogs or birds would feast on them.

He dreaded such gruesome reminders of man’s vulnerability!

Shoreline barely visible now, at a deemed favorable spot, he dropped anchor. Steadying himself, he was about to cast his sturdy net over the sea (floor) when just then his keen eyesight espied (spotted) an intact floating figure at some distance.

Rubbing his eyes he focused his attention on the partially submerged object that lay beneath the unconscious, seemingly lifeless human. His clear vision partially obscured by the bobbing waves, Kaimu could but barely discern the thick ropes that fastened the castoff- therefore keeping him afloat- on a large, sturdy piece of dark wood.

Hmm! Looks to me a valuable commodity, a door perhaps, or a chest?   A hopeful light shone in his eyes, despite the odds stacked against of it being so. Then again, why should he bother; besides, the person could have already expired… dead as a doornail he would be from exposure to cold!

Kaimu in quandary gnawed at his lower lip as he same time thoughtfully stroked his chin.  Just then however the situation took on an urgent turn when he glimpsed (detected, pinpointed) large school of sharks over yonder headed straight for the castaway.

 

 “Not if I can help it!” Without hesitation, on the perchance the poor soul was still alive, he quickly aborted his earlier aim of casting the net. With incredible agility and strength, he first hauled the anchor up, and then raced his craft (vessel) straight (into) towards certain peril in order to rescue that poor unfortunate being. Having reached the spot, he, with the use of his sharp dagger quickly released the bonds and hauled the unconscious body up on board- just in the nick of time too! Sharks having missed their mark, circled the boat with certain frenzy, some irately bumping it, then just as swiftly they swerved and swam away towards yet another opportunity.  With the passing of this certain danger, Kaimu grinned elatedly. 

On second thought, forsaking the idea of salvaging the ‘adrift-wood-piece’, he now turned his attention back on the rescued being. Squatting, he carefully checked for the vital signs. The face was ghostly white (devoid of any color) but the body was nonetheless warm. The pulse although faint, was still there.  There were some bruises and cuts, some bleeding, but nothing serious.  Aha…. Hahn!

“What’s this, a woman?”  He was suddenly taken back and so abruptly yanked (jerked, pulled) his hand away.

It’s most puzzling, indeed? His suspicious, scrutinizing gaze affixed on the unconscious being, he absentmindedly scratched his forehead; for plainly enough, the drenched, rather prosperous attire was that of male’s. 

Hmm, what probable mischief was at play here… Could she be an escapee, a run-away?

When just then she made a faint whimpering sound and stirred, Oh who cares, at least she’s alive! Kaimu elatedly shrugged, having received added confirmation that at least his expansive efforts had not been in vain after all. As she seemed to be laboring for breath however, he now gently turned her on to her side and patted (pounded) her back. Pat, pat, pat…

She coughed, pinkish hue brushed her lovely cheeks and her lips parting, she spewed (ejected, disgorged) some seawater.  The eyelids fluttered, opened just a crack but then she, once more going ghostly pale, passed out cold. Kaimu knew all too well, the signs of shock and what the subsequent requirement would entail.  Cold as he was, without moment’s hesitation he took off his dry outer jacket, and as she was petite in frame, pretty much wrapped her whole body in it. Deferring his plans to fish until later, he then quickly applied himself to the oars (rowed) and swiftly steered his small craft back to the shore. His feet trod quickly on the wet, slippery path as he with ease carried her in his arms to his meager dwelling.

“Look what the sea has given us!”  Kicking the door wide open with his left foot, he barged right in leaving muddy footprints on the clean floor, and laid her on the cot.  “I shall leave her to your competent care.”  As he said this, he’d also quickly retrieved (reclaimed) his coat and put it back on. Then without sparing another moment for a response or an explanation to Ensa’s barrage of questions, he turned right around (on his heels) and darted out.

She’d nimbly rushed after him to outside and persisted with her loud inquiries. But there was so little time for him to waste; the weather could take a turn for the worse at any moment! Hence, ignoring his wife’s entreaties, his back still turned to her he raised his right hand up high in the air and waved a dismissive goodbye. Just like a woman! Exhaling an impatient huff, he shook his head as he quickly retraced his steps back to his boat. After returning to the proximity of the earlier spot, he then dropped anchor and cast his homemade net into the sea.