The Child Thief

his eyebrows and glanced from face to face. “No objections? Good, we’re off to a fine start then.

“A long time ago, I agreed to bring these good people,” the Captain swept his arm toward the two Reverends, “the Saints, to the New World. A group of pilgrims that wanted nothing more than to escape religious persecution and find a place of peace to practice their beliefs.” The Captain made a slight bow to the two humorless, stoned-faced men, and for the millionth time wondered what brazen act of blasphemy, what horrendous carnal sin he’d committed that could possibly have been so bad as for God to condemn him to spend not one lifetime but several with these fanatics. Was it the time he hired those four wenches in Portugal to share their delights, three being sisters and the last their mother? Was it the time he stole a casket of communion wine from the monastery, or maybe taking the good Lord’s name in vain as many times as there were stars in the sky? He couldn’t figure it out, couldn’t think of any sin so great as to merit being marooned with this lot. It must have been something he’d done in a past life. He pushed the thoughts aside and continued: “Two storms sent us far off course, our supplies were dangerously low. Sickness had already claimed the lives of many. We were sea-weary and down to the last rations of rainwater when these shores showed themselves. I got down on my hands and knees and kissed these beaches that day. Ne’er had I been so relieved to have land back beneath my feet.

“The Saints were intent on making Jamestown before the weather turned. So we set camp, planning to stay only long enough to gather fresh water and replenish our stocks. Then the demons came.

“Several women came running into camp, terror-stricken and screaming of demon men. I’d heard of the native peoples of the Americas and their wild ways and thought it was just the womanly hysteria, but what I saw chilled me to the bone—not Indian tribesmen but demons indeed. Abominations with horns and tails, pointed ears and golden eyes, half-beasts and half-men, creatures that could’ve only crawled from the pits of Hell itself and they were coming for us. We shouted at them to leave yet still they persisted. We’d no idea what manner of sorcery they possessed: hexes, poxes, plague? When they wouldn’t turn I shot the lead creature and almost wept to see that they were indeed mortal. We drove them off that day.

“We realized that these lands were bewitched and we made to leave right away. But even as we were bringing down the tents, the fog came. Like nothing I’d ever seen in twenty years on the seas, fog so thick it felt palpable. And this fog was alive. It swam with the faces of the dead, with horrible things that I could never describe with mere words. It rolled out of the forest and surrounded the ships. You couldn’t see from bow to stern. To have tried to sail in that soup, with all the rocks and reefs, would’ve been to throw your life to the sea. And it was then that I began to suspect that we might’ve sailed into purgatory itself.

“The drums started, day and night, relentless. I saw brave men, men who’d gone toe to toe with pirates without batting an eye, fall down to their knees and beg God to show us a way out. But there was no way out. Not in that fog. So we hid the women and children aboard the vessels, dug trenches, prepared our defenses, and tried to make peace with our souls.

“They came for us in the earliest hours of dawn, a horde of demons. I fought to remain steady as they burst from the tree line, but in my heart I wanted to run into the sea, almost preferring to drown than face such monsters. The very ground trembled as they charged, filling the air with their awful screams and howls. I would stand against any man, but these weren’t men. These were Satan’s own children. My legs trembled so bad I could hardly keep my musket fixed. I saw many a man openly weeping. But God spared us that day. Why? I know not. I cannot say it were a mercy. All I know is we fought off the demon horde and that is all that matters.”

The Captain cleared his throat and took a swig from the cup.

“Some would argue it would’ve been better to have died that day. I believe many would’ve laid down their muskets and surrendered if they’d any idea what horrors lay in store.” The Captain paused to consider how many times he’d contemplated letting the blood out of his veins in those early days. It was only the fear for his immortal soul and the hope that he might see his sons at least one more time before he died that stayed his hand.

“Day after day we waited for the fog to lift. Women, children, and grown men even feared to leave the ships. Life on board became unbearable, so when the fog didn’t lift, we were forced to try and live on the island.

“Captain Williams of the Foresight and most of his party decided they’d rather risk the fog than set foot back on that shore. They left the harbor and disappeared into that swirling wall of gray. We never knew their fate for certain, but shortly thereafter we heard their screams, horrible sounds, like people being eaten alive. Those screams eventually turned to wails, fading to plaintive pleas, then, after many a long hour, just drifted away altogether. But sometimes at night, when the mist comes in from the sea and crawls beneath our doors, we still hear them, along with all those that have fallen, wailing and begging us to come into the evil mist and save them.

“We began to clear the land and build the fort. We planted crops and bred our livestock. We did our best to survive, hoping that each new day would be the day we could leave. But the island vexed us at every turn,

blighted our crops, plagued our livestock, and cast spells on us that covered our skin with scaly pox, twisting our bodies and turning us into monsters. The change drove many mad, corrupted them into villainous murderers, and many had to be killed.

“I’d not yet learned of the Lady and her black arts, but all knew there was a source of great evil out there, plaguing us with its sorcery. The forests teemed with wicked creatures, the very trees themselves were possessed by demons. We began to burn them down, to push the evil back. We were determined to raze the entire island if we had to, whatever it took to rid us of this deviltry. And it worked, the forest began to die, the wicked people began to disappear. We saw less and less of the evil ones. I began to have hope.

“Later, once I’d learned of the Lady from Billy, it made more sense. It became obvious that the forest and creatures were indeed all a part of her sorcery, that our efforts weren’t in vain. We swore never to stop until either we found her or we erased all traces of her sorcery from this land.

“So there lies the truth. You can plainly see how we’ve been trapped, tortured, vexed, and plagued at every turn. And if that weren’t suffering enough, on top of all that wickedness, the sorceress has summoned that demon, Peter, to trick and steal children. To bewitch children to do murder! To force us to kill children to protect ourselves!” The Captain took a deep breath. “See me for who I am. Beneath this horrible skin I am a man, father of two boys. Do you believe I should ever wish to harm a child? Have you any idea of the horror in this? Can you not see what Peter is? How he and the Lady are using you? How willing they are to sacrifice your lives? Surely you can see? Yes?”

The Captain gave them a moment to think, to let what he had said sink in.

“All we wish is to leave this Godforsaken island. Look into your hearts. Who among you will help me?” The Captain clasped his hands behind his back, strolled behind the table. He put two cups in front of himself, poured the water, taking his time, letting the water dribble into the cups. The Captain pushed one of the cups across the table. He looked from face to face. “Now who will come and share a cup of water with me?”

The boys remained silent.

The Captain hadn’t expected any of them to accept. Not yet anyway, not until they understood just what was at stake. He glanced over at the two Reverends. Men who’d once challenged popes and kings in their pursuit of religious purity, now reduced to little more than superstitious fools. “Reverend Senior,” the Captain inclined his head toward the crooked-faced man, “believes each of you is possessed by a demonic spirit. As a man of God, it is his sworn duty to try and free your soul. Exorcism is a highly skilled undertaking. Your Grace, if it’s not too much to ask, would you be willing to inform these boys of the more delicate nuances of your craft?”

The Reverend Senior nodded and stood. The boys eyed him warily.

“We’ve come to find,” the Reverend stated clinically, “that in a case of demonic possession, the possessed must undergo a series of tortures in order to drive the demon out. The host body must become so inhospitable that the demon can no longer bear to stay within. We start with drowning, as this does the least damage to the possessed. Here you’re merely held under water until you drown—several times if deemed necessary. If this, in our judgment, doesn’t free the possessed, we move to branding, or burning of the extremities. If there is still no success, we try breaking bones, starting with smaller bones in your fingers and working up to the leg and arm bones. And in the end, if all else fails, we burn the possessed to death. As this is the one sure way to cleanse the soul.”

The Captain was still amazed, even after all these years, that the Reverend could discuss torturing children with no more emotion than if he were describing the process of churning cream to butter. But that was what made his words so effective, and the Captain was pleased to see that the Reverend’s words weren’t lost on the boys. He caught their quick, furtive looks, could plainly see the fear in their eyes.

“There’s another way,” the Captain added. “A way in which you could avoid all of these unpleasantries.