This story is scheduled for publication on Brok3n Engines Creations Tuesday, 1-Dec-2026. I will be giving it a final proof and edit Monday, 30-Nov, so comments . You may comment directly on this post or by direct messages to me.
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Up There: Voyage 8—Isle of Devils
Previous chapters
Voyage 8— Isle of Devils
“…it was Linda who made that connard Lord fuck off.”
Oh! That was perfect!
Connard was French, he thought. He’d have to look it up, but he could guess what it meant, close enough. John didn’t talk like that. He didn’t think Alice or Stephanie did, either. He had never heard them swear.
But it was exactly right for Nana-Lis to say. It carried the triumph of a win after hundreds of years of brutality.
He liked the way Nana-Lis and Linda had made friends. That was well-written.
For the rest, he could work with this. Ananta and the Rodriguez family were to be left behind at Blue Bayou. Linda would continue to work her legal magic. They could assume that in a year she’d have secured the frog-people’s home for them. John would probably not write the story of Ananta and the frog-people and the Rodriguez Family. He could just summarize when they got back together.
And Jack and Fred could go off and have adventures somewhere else. Presumably they would head towards Snake Island. But nothing said they would get there.
Something had been bothering John for a while. When were all these stories happening? In what year? When he started, he hadn’t given it any thought—he had, after all only been six years old. He had just imitated sailing stories he had read, like Treasure Island.
In “Voyage 5” he had mentioned the Panama Canal. When did the Panama Canal open? 1914.
If Linda was a lawyer, when were there women lawyers in Argentina.
It turned out he had got lucky there. The first women lawyers in Argentina were María Angélica Barreda in 1909 and Celia Tapias in 1910. In fact, Celia Tapias taught at the University of Buenos Aires starting in 1910. UBA was where he had written that Linda got her law degree.
Oh, but what about Tulane University? John had chosen Tulane for Linda’s advanced degree because it was in New Orleans. He had wanted her to have friends in Louisiana. But John knew that many universities didn’t take women students until late in the 20th century. When did Tulane admit women? 1893! Good for you, Tulane! That was another stroke of luck.
Then there was another thing. John could not have sailed freely around the world during a world war. It had to be after 1918, and not between 1939 and 1945.
What was the latest it could be? What was the last date when a practical man like Jack could go around the world under sail alone? Slocum sailed around the world alone in the Spray at the end of the 1890s—he had written a book about it. And Jack London sailed the Snark across the Pacific in 1906 and 1907. The Snark had had a gasoline engine, although it rarely worked. John guessed that by 1940 almost every deep-sea vessel would have had an engine.
So it made most sense to suppose Jack’s voyage’s took place in the 1920s.
That reminded John of something else. Jack brought Fred a bottle of whiskey from Ireland. When was Prohibition? 1920-1933. If Jack’s voyages took place in the 1920s, then he could not legally have brought Fred that bottle of Irish whiskey. Either it was after 1933, or Jack had smuggled a bottle of whiskey to Rye for Fred.
John liked that. It made the gift better. Fred would have had to give up whiskey for years. John knew that and took the risk of smuggling a bottle for him.
John had an idea.
Jack and Fred sailed east from Blue Bayou the next day. They went warily. This was hurricane alley, and it was summer. Seph and Angie kept on eye out for storms. If one came, Jack would put in to harbor at the nearest Florida port. But they got lucky—it was July, before the peak hurricane season. They sailed around the Keys without running into a dangerous storm.
From there they sailed north and east on the Gulf Stream, intending to cross the North Atlantic before bearing south to round Africa into the Indian Ocean, where Snake Island and Melusine were to be found.
Here their luck almost ran out. They had been out of sight of Florida two days when Seph popped into Jack’s sight.
“Yee-ha!” she screamed with a rebel yell. She shook her head violently, flinging water from her soaked hair.
Angie blinked into sight. “Big one coming, Jack.”
“Seph and Angie says there’s a big storm coming,” Jack told Fred.
“How much time we got?” Fred asked.
Jack looked at Seph and Angie.
“Some,” Angie answered. “It’s near Florida, maybe 300 miles behind us.”
“But it’s turning east!” Seph yelled. “You can’t go back that way, Jack. It’ll catch you for sure if you try.”
“We can’t go back,” Jack told Fred. “We need to run east, with a hurricane on our tail.”
There was nothing in sight but water and cloudy skies.
“It’ll have to be the Isle of Devils,” Fred replied. “It’s out there in front of us.”
“The Isle of Devils?” Jack asked.
He and Fred studied Jack’s Atlantic chart. Fred pointed and repeated, “The Isle of Devils.”
“Bermuda,” Jack said.
“We’ll find it,” Angie said. Jack remembered the first time he had shown them a map. Now they read maps easily. They would return soon with a precise heading for Bermuda. Until they returned, Jack steered the Devil due east. Fred adjusted sail for maximum speed.
It was a long day and a long hard night. Jack and Fred worked through the night. They slept only in snatches, taking alternate watches. Fred steered by the compass. When Jack was at the helm, he took his bearing from Angie and Seph.
By morning the wind was hard from the southwest, gale force and gusty. Visibility was bad, the air full of rain and spray. But they had escaped the worst of the storm. It would pass to their west.
Still they needed shelter. Angie conned them into Hamilton Harbor. They made their way to a small craft marina and tied up safely.
Jack had never been here before. “Is it really called the Isle of Devils?” he asked Fred.
“It was, when I was here long ago,” Fred answered.
“Why was it called that?” Jack asked.
“Well, there was these birds, cahow they called, that made noises that scared humans. We played pranks on sailors, sometimes, to help they stay scared. The cahow all gone now.”
“You played pranks on the sailors, Fred?”
“Little ones, yeah,”
“When was this,” Jack asked.
“Don’ know so well in your years,” said Jack, “but the cahow, they been gone 300 year.”
“How old are you, Fred?”
“Don’t really know,” he answered, “but I was old already when the last cahow died.”
Jack looked at Fred with new appreciation.
The storm passed and John set to work repairing storm damage. The Devil needed to be careened and recaulked, but that would have to wait. He set to work repairing rigging and sails. It was slow work, all alone. Angie and Seph would have helped willingly, but this was not work for new sailors.
Fred would have been a big help. But Fred had vanished.
That evening Angie and Seph popped into view.
“We’ve found him, Jack,” said Angie.
“Fred?” he asked.
“Yes, and we think you should come right away,” Seph replied. “It is possible that Fred has been having a little too much fun!”
“Too much fun? Fred?” Jack asked, incredulous.
They led him to a seedy district near some beat-up but functioning wharves. Seph and Angie led him to a warehouse. The door was open, so Jack walked in.
There he saw a tall, thin mahogany-skinned man and woman. At their feet, on a cushion on a mat on the floor, he saw Fred.
The man spoke in a deep voice, “You’ll be Black Jack O’Toole, then. He told us you would find him.” He gestured at Fred.
“Is he alright?” asked Jack. “Does he need help?”
“He’s in health,” the woman said.
No, not a woman, Jack realized. Both she and the one he had taken for a man were Marsh-wiggles. Somehow their mahogany skin color had made him think they were human, but that was foolish. If there were brown-skinned humans, why not Marsh-wiggles?
She continued, “He’s had a bit of grog. He had not in many a year, rum not being to hand in that New England backwater where youse live.”
“You may call me Davie,” said the first, “and the lady Maisie. We are old friends of your friend.”
At this point Jack noticed—how had he managed to overlook it?—that each of them had a bird perched on the shoulder, a handsome grey and black seabird. One of them emitted an eerie screech.
“Are those,…” he said vaguely, gesturing at the birds.
“Yes, Jack, you are the first human in 300 years to see a living specimen of the extinct Bermuda Petrel, Pterodroma cahow.”
“When you say you are old friends of Fred’s…”
“Fred?” said Davie’s deep voice. “Is that what he calls himself now?”
“What do you call him?” Jack asked.
“We knew him as Malcolm,” Davie said.
“We styled him Steel Wool,” Maisie said. “Hard as steel in a fight, warm as wool when a friend needed help.”
The corners of Jack’s lips twitched into a smile at this.
Maisie, noticing, said, “You’ll not be embarrassing our old comrade Malcolm, will you?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jack answered, schooling his expression to sternness.
“I would!” said Seph.
“So when you say you are old friends, do you mean you knew Fred 300 years ago when he helped Bermuda to be named the Isle of Devils?”
“Oh,” said Davie. “He spoke of that?”
“He did, but not your names”
“Yes, we stopped here 300 years and more. Malcolm left. You know him. He yearns always to go alone to and fro in the world.”
John looked around. The warehouse was full of wooden crates. Some of the crates were open—in these he saw bottles.
“What do you have here?” he asked.
“Rum!” both answered.
Jack looked around. A warehouse full of rum! Davie and Masie must trade in it.
He realized instantly who they sold their rum to. The Carolina coast was 650 miles away. Smuggled rum would command a high price in Prohibition USA. And much of the Carolina coast was marsh—these wiggles would be at home there. He knew, and they knew he knew.
“Worry thee not, Jack,” said Maisie. “Malcolm holds faith in you. We do, too.”
Jack touched his forehead in acknowledgement. “I’ll take Fred back to the Sea Devil now, if you have no objection.”
Silently he asked Angie and Seph, Will you bear him?
They grew to human size. Seph cradling his legs, and Angie his back, they lifted him.
Maisie and Davie’s eyes widened to see Fred’s body rise from the ground and appear to float in mid-air.
“We have no objection!” said Maisie.
“Could we stop you if we did?” asked Davie.
“Of course,” Jack answered. “You need only speak.”
Fred woke the next morning with a headache, but nothing worse.
“Hear you met Maisie and Davie,” he said. “They made us an offer.”
“They seemed good people,” answered Jack. “What offer?”
“They got a shipyard,” Fred told Jack. “Know the Devil needs repair. They offer a full refit.”
“For free?” Jack said. “Generous.”
“Not entirely free,” Fred answered. “Asked me to help out on a run to Carolina. You, too, if you’ll do it. They impressed with you.”
“When you say ‘a run to Carolina’…” Jack began.
“Yeah, smuggling rum, that do mean.”
“Do it, Jack!” Seph whispered. “It’ll be fun.”
“I don’t know about fun,” Angie said. “But of course we’ll go if you go.”
“I’d like to do that,” Jack told Fred.
They left the next morning. Two wiggles who worked with Davie and Maisie sailed off with the Sea Devil, taking her for her refit. Jack felt bereft, seeing his home away from home go off in someone else’s charge.
Davie came for Fred and Jack. They returned to the warehouse. Behind it was a dock. Tied up there was a boat like none Jack had ever seen. Perhaps 70 feet long, with a sharp bow and a blunt stern. It seemed to be made entirely of gray-painted metal. It carried no sail or masts, but a pair of smokestacks rose from the aft deck. Painted on her was her name, Cahow.
“How she go?” Fred asked.
“New thing,” Maisie said. “Diesel engine, they call it. Burns a special oil. Named for the German mechanic who thought of it. Turns two aft screws. She do fly. We be in Carolina inside the day.”
“Carolina Coast Guard got them,” Davie said, “We gotta have ‘em, too.”
The voyage was uneventful, but Jack had never experienced anything like this. As Maisie said, they flew—over and sometimes through the waves.
In the moonless dark before dawn they entered the channel of a Carolina marsh. Local workers appeared in small boats with gasoline engines. They quickly offloaded the crates of rum.
It was still dark when Cahow exited the marsh into the sea, although the eastern horizon was lightening.
Maisie whipped around, looking south. “Coast guard cutter coming.”
Jack saw nothing, but he reckoned Maisie had ways of knowing.
At the helm, Davie pushed the Cahow’s engines to full speed.
Soon they all saw the coastie cutter. It was bigger than Cahow. More important, it was faster.
Seph, Angie, can you disable their engines?
For sure, Seph called, overconfident as always.
Probably, Angie said, But Jack, these Diesel engines are new to us, too.
They popped off to the cutter. It was gaining fast.
She was a mere 100 yards away when a huge pall of black smoke belched from her stacks. She lost way.
Oh, well cone! Jack thought at Angie and Seph.
Then he saw the sniper’s rest on the cutter’s bow, and saw the gleaming barrel of a rifle lower itself.
SHIING—With impossible speed, Fred drew his saber and lunged to shield Davie’s back.
CRACK—Fred’s blade shattered as the sniper’s bullet struck it. Impossibly, Fred’s blade deflected the bullet.
Davie was unharmed.
Fred was not. A fragment of the shattered blade hit his head. He fell to the deck inert, his head bloody.
“OK, John, what kind of trouble are you throwing us into now?” Stephanie asked.
“Did they get into trouble with Melusine?” Alice asked.
“Didn’t make it that far,” John said. “They ran into a hurricane off Florida and were forced to run for Bermuda. They met some old friends of Fred’s there.”
“I don’t know anything about Bermuda,” said Stephanie.
“I didn’t either,” John said. “Had to read up on it.”
“Where is it?” Alice asked.
“Mid Atlantic Ocean, about 600 miles east of South Carolina,” John answered. “It’s a sensible place to run to if you’re running from a hurricane just past Florida.”
“Yeah, but I bet you landed Jack in some kind of mess that you want Alice and me to get him out of,” Stephanie said.
“Not Jack, actually, but Fred,” said John. “He’s badly hurt.”
“How’d that happen?”
“Well, here’s a thing you need to know. I decided this story is taking place in the 1920s.”
“OK,” Stephanie said. “Does that fit with everything else?”
“Everything I could think of,” Jack said. “I put everything together that I could think of, and it has to be the 20s.”
“Wait a minute,” Alice said. “Wasn’t that during Prohibition?”
“Yes,” John said. “Turns out that rum runners from Bermuda smuggled rum into the USA in those times.”
“Oh,” said Alice, “I see. That how Fred got hurt?”
The Coast Guard cutter’s engines disabled, the Cahow escaped easily.
They tended the wound in Fred’s head. He was alive and breathing, but didn’t wake. They put him to bed in Davie and Masie’s home.
They brought a healer—Marsh-wiggles didn’t have medical schools or doctors.
The healer could do nothing. “Head wounds are hard,” he said. “Keep him comfortable. Move him so he don’t get bedsores. That’s all I got. Sorry!”
“Can you do anything for him, with your magic?” Maisie asked Jack.
Jack had already consulted Seph and Angie on this. But they knew no more about human medicine than John himself did. When it came to wiggles they were entirely at sea.
“But Jack,” Angie said, “We think you know someone who can help Fred.”
“Who?” said Jack, puzzled.
“Niamh,” answered Seph.
Afterword
When I began writing this chapter, I, like John, knew nothing about Bermuda. To remedy that problem, I read Bermuda: A History, by Diego Marín. I heartily recommend it.
Also, I would like to mention a happy end to a story hinted at here. For three centuries, from 1630 – 1951, the cahow, also known as the Bermuda petrel, was though to be extinct. In 1951, 18 nesting pairs were discovered. I do not claim the cahow was secretly preserved for three centuries by indigenous Bermudian Marsh-wiggles. But I don’t know that didn’t happen.
The cover image is a phase portrait of :
The portrait is rotated 30°.
A phase portrait is a visualization of a complex function introduced by Elias Wegert in Visual Complex Functions: An Introduction with Phase Portraits.