A Hand from Beyond the Sea (2)
Even docking a ship at an ordinary pier demanded careful attention. When the other party was a moving island, the list of things that needed watching only grew longer.
Long ago, an adventurer who had gone ashore had left his vessel tied up; when the island changed course, the ship was dragged along and smashed to pieces, vanishing without a trace.
Simply mooring and landing was never enough. Someone always had to stay behind, eyes fixed on both island and ship, ready to move at a moment’s notice.
Rotin left more than the bare minimum crew needed to handle both vessels, stationing extra hands aboard, then climbed into one of the longboats lashed alongside and set out for the Floating Island.
“Is it really all right to leave only this many? What if the weather turns suddenly?”
“They’re all hand-picked, first-rate sailors. Besides, I left the man who’s sailed with me for over ten years.”
“Ah—your brother, then. Why doesn’t he take the post of first mate?”
“Says he hates standing over anyone. Too much pressure.”
Using two of the three longboats, twenty-four men made the first landing. The boats shuttled back and forth between the sandy beach and the ships until nearly seventy men stood on the island.
“Would’ve felt steadier if Big Brother were here.”
“Right? The man’s strong!”
“Never seen anyone that strong in my life.”
The sailors who had overheard the exchange all began talking about “Big Brother” at once. The man who had thrown himself into every heavy job during the voyage had already won every heart on board. If anything went wrong and he was nearby, they would survive—that certainty had taken root deep in the souls of men who risked their lives on the open sea.
“If there ever was a hero, he’d be the one. Born in the old days, he’d have been famous the world over.”
“All right, everyone. Focus.”
Rotin gathered their attention.
“First we examine the traces here.”
The sailors turned toward the beach. Lined up there were the very things that had been drawing their eyes since they landed.
“What’s this? Looks strange.”
“Bamboo. Split in half, looks like.”
“Bamboo? Odd name. This is wood? It’s completely hollow.”
One sailor dabbed a finger into the white crystals inside a length of bamboo and tasted it.
“Ah! Salt.”
“So they were catching seawater in bamboo and making salt. Crude method, but still.”
“On an island like this, any way of getting salt is a miracle.”
“This Monia person is something else. She’s a noble, right? Really? Incredible survival skills.”
Others stared in admiration at the seaside villa Chester had built on the shore. Of course they knew Monia was a noble; they had watched Rotin prepare butlers, maids, a luxurious bed, even silver tableware just to receive her.
“Amazing. They actually built a house.”
“Captain Rotin, is she really a noble? Hard to believe.”
“Monia is a noble. In our country, her blood is the highest after the royal family itself!”
As he spoke, Rotin’s gaze fell on the ropes binding the villa’s bamboo frame.
“But where did Monia get this much rope? It’s no small amount…”
He ran his fingers carefully along the cords, then looked at the remains of a campfire nearby. Nothing but pure white ash remained; a single crab scuttled around the edge.
She can even make fire?
Then, suddenly, he remembered someone else.
“That’s right. They said Monia was abandoned with one butler. Could all of this be his work?”
He entertained the possibility for a moment, then shook his head.
Impossible. A noble son raised from childhood to enter a ducal household as a butler would have learned nothing but butlering. That kind of man knowing how to make salt, build a house, light a fire—and even make rope? No chance.
Rotin’s mind raced.
Worst case, these are someone else’s traces entirely, and Monia is already dead.
He knew of adventurers who scoured the world hunting for the Floating Island. Such men would possess exactly this range of skills.
…No. Monia is alive. I have to believe that.
At the same time he admitted that his obsession with her survival had clouded his eyes and his judgment for a moment.
Perhaps the light we saw last night wasn’t hers after all.
If she were dead, he still wanted to bring her body home. With that thought, Rotin divided his men into groups of ten and ordered them to search the island.
“Captain—what if both Monia and the butler are still alive?”
“Hm.”
A butler who has spent years alone with Monia on this island…
For a brief, unpleasant instant he pictured the two of them living sweetly together. A twisted smile touched his lips.
“Kill the butler. We don’t need him. We take only Monia.”
“Understood. Hey! You lot! Listen to the order before you go!”
One group of sailors moved through the forest, checking their gear as they went. They were only looking for a single person, yet this was a wild island. Thorough preparation was only common sense.
One man drew his cutlass and, though the path was clear, slashed at long grass and hanging vines simply to test the edge. Another kept a crossbow ready, scanning the undergrowth with tense eyes. The rest carried at least one weapon each. Cutlasses were most common; only one man had a crossbow, while more carried bows. A crossbow was more powerful and easier to use, but expensive weapons that saw little use at sea made less economic sense than a decent bow.
“Don’t pull that trigger by accident. Hit Lady Monia and the captain will kill you.”
“I-I know! I know! Shut up! I’m fine!”
“Fine, he says.”
“Coward.”
They teased the crossbowman by mimicking animal cries and leaping at him from behind, or by claiming they had seen strange shadows. Only when the man looked ready to cry did they stop, staring at him in mock amazement.
“How is that guy our best marksman?”
“You see him throw a harpoon last time? Hit a fish that size from that distance—unreal.”
“How does someone that scared even sail?”
Wandering an island in search of someone who might already be dead was tedious, exhausting work. After more than half an hour of similar scenery, conversation dwindled. To keep spirits up they began tossing crude jokes—and this time the target of those jokes was the woman they were supposed to find.
Black hair, violet eyes. A face none of them had ever seen, yet the woman their captain was obsessed with down to the roots of his soul—the most beautiful woman in the world, they said.
“If the captain’s that far gone, she must be gorgeous, right?”
“You see the dress he prepared? To wear that, her chest and waist would have to be like this—see? Like this!”
The sailor sketched a woman’s curves in the air; the others whistled in appreciation.
“Ooooh.”
“What a figure.”
“Damn.”
“But she’s been living on this island. What if she’s nothing but bones from starvation?”
“Ugh.”
“Damn it, don’t ruin the mood.”
Suddenly a loud, harsh noise crashed through the quiet forest.
Every sailor tensed and stared in the direction of the sound. Beast? Person? Perhaps the very person they sought.
“Monia? Lady Monia! We’ve come at Captain Rotin’s request! Ah—damn it, what was the introduction the captain told us to use?”
“No idea. Why do nobles from the captain’s country have such long, impossible names?”
“I don’t remember either.”
“Hell with it. Lady Monia! We’ve come from the kingdom! …What was the kingdom’s name again?”
“Started with La-something. La-whatever Kingdom.”
“That’s not enough to go on.”
One sailor raised a hand.
“What if it’s the butler instead of Monia?”
“…We kill him.”
“Just kill him? He’s a lead to Lady Monia.”
“Ask about her location and whether she’s alive first, then kill him.”
As they talked, the tension in their bodies slowly eased. Nothing leapt out no matter how long they waited, so they decided to check the source of the noise and move on.
“The sound definitely came from around here, right?”
“Yeah. Nothing here, though.”
“Just the wind?”
“Mmm. Maybe. But it sounded too strange for wind.”
Finding nothing, they dismissed the noise and continued their search.
And high above the heads of the walking sailors, behind a screen of carefully gathered branches—
“Hm. What are those?”
“More importantly, what are they saying? What language is that?”
“No idea. I can tell they keep calling your name, but that’s about it. Weird pronunciation, whatever it is.”
“Especially the ‘r’ and ‘s’ sounds. They turn Monia into something like Mo-r-rui-a… At first I didn’t even realize it was my name.”
“Yeah.”
Chester agreed with Monia’s observation and thought for a moment.
“If they keep shouting your name, they must be looking for you. Shall we meet them? We might even be able to return to the kingdom.”
“……”
They could not understand the language, so they had no idea what the men were actually saying.
And so Chester and Monia climbed down from the tree and stepped into view before them.