***
Curren and Derron, the ten and eight year old Dallis brothers, often came to the beach after a storm, and the previous night’s had been a major tempest. Storms were common on the far shore of Kêltikæ, the island which was the last land of the Eastern Side before the wide expanse of the Sea – or the first ground encountered if someone should ever sail from the West.
Ordinary gales often roiled the deeper water offshore and washed up seashells and other interesting bits of marine life which the boys could not otherwise have reached. Sometimes pieces of flotsam provided souvenirs. The boys’ prizes included large corks with shreds of fishnets dangling and the paddle part of a broken oar, but their most treasured possession was a wooden statuette about the length of one of their forearms. Its paint had washed away but it clearly was the image of a girl. (Their Ma would have made them say young woman instead of girl, but Pa would have agreed with them.) Neither parent ever had an opportunity to express any opinion at all, however, because the boys had never mentioned their find and hid it in a secret place. Whatever clothing the girl/young woman had originally worn had been provided by the now missing paint and the smooth wood seemed, to boys their age anyway, like her skin.
As they crossed the last dune, they realized that this morning would be far from ordinary. Spread before them down a long stretch of beach was wreckage on a scale previously unimagined. Shattered pieces of masts, spars, and planks tumbled everywhere and most of them were entangled with ripped sails and rope.
“Shipwreck!” Curren shouted, “Let’s go help!” and both boys sprinted forward. To the credit of their parents, the goodness of the brothers impelled them to think first of any survivors and not of the fascinating salvage which undoubtedly lay among the wreckage. Sadly, they found no living sailors, only three dead bodies, one of which still floated face down in the shallow water.
“If he floats away, no one will find his body to bury it properly,” Curren said after staring for a long time. “That’s bad. Everyone should be treated properly when they die.”
“I know,” agreed Derron as he gulped. Both brothers looked around in the hope that someone else would come and take care of this distressing situation, but they knew in their hearts that the body might drift away if they went for help.
“We have to pull him up on the beach,” Curren said somberly.
“Yeah, we have to.”
“If we grab his jacket we won’t have to touch his skin.” The garment Curren referred to was actually a red vest made of quilted material worn over a loose fitting black shirt. The pants were also black and came down only to the dead man’s knees.
“Okay, let’s do it,” replied Derron. After a long moment of hesitation, they did what they had to.
“We should turn him over so his face isn’t in the dirt,” Derron said when they had the body out of the water.
“You’re right. It isn’t proper like this,” agreed Curren but they balked at touching the dead man again. The jacket had felt distasteful and unnerving to them and they imagined it was coated by slime from the decomposing body. The last was an exaggeration in the boys’ minds since the man was newly dead and no decay had begun yet, but it’s unreasonable to expect clear thinking from youngsters in such disturbing circumstances. Fortunately, an obvious solution was at hand and they found a plank to use as a lever.
When they rolled the man over on his back, the boys groaned because they saw that their work was still not finished. The face was covered with sand and this was not a proper thing either. Unwilling to touch the skin with their hands, they found a piece of wet canvas and cleaned the face without making any bodily contact. The dead man had black hair, something rarely seen in Kêltikæ.
“Ma would never let us wear our hair that long,” observed Curren.
“His eyes look funny all slanted like that and his skin color seems odd,” said Derron.
“That’s probably just because he’s been in the water.”
“Yeah, that must be it.”
As the brothers stood and backed away, a great weight lifted from their shoulders. They had done their duty bravely and had accomplished a worthy good deed. Their consciences freed them for much more pleasurable thoughts and they looked around.
“Let’s go there first,” Curren said as he pointed to the largest single section of wreckage. They dashed to what once had been the stern of the ship and saw the writing on its side.
“What’s that word mean?” asked Derron. Neither understood it, but the carved letters spelled Nínjìng. The shattered stern section tilted to one side but that was no obstacle to agile young legs. The boys scrambled aboard to find one section of deck still intact. Cautious to save their bare feet from nails and splinters, they began searching for treasure. Before they found any, Derron heard something.
“Did you hear that?” he asked his brother.
“Hear what?”
“A really soft sound.”
“Probably a bird or something,” Curren said.
“Didn’t sound like a bird.” Derron stood still and quiet and after a moment he said, “There it is again. Do you hear it?”
“Yeah. Sounded kind of like a kitten mewing.”
“It came from there,” Derron said as he pointed to a basket lashed to the base of a broken mast. The thoughts of kitten and basket made them rush to it but when they opened the lid, no cat was inside.
They found a tiny baby girl wrapped in a soiled blanket and wearing only a bright silvery necklace with an oval amulet engraved with arcane symbols – The boys had three younger sisters and realized that this infant was in her first few days of life. It was a cool day so both boys stripped off their sweaters and stuffed them in the basket to cover the baby.
“She looks bad sick! We better get her home quick,” cried Curren, and he and his brother climbed over the side and carefully handed the basket from one to another until it was safely on the sand. Each then grabbed the basket handle with one hand.
“Ma will know what to do!” said Derron as they began to run. They didn’t stop until they had delivered the baby to the shelter and comfort of their home and mother.