#odyssey

As they approach the island they can see that it's not a very large island - not compared to many. The initial research Art had shared had given that information, but it's one thing to know it and another to see that the country that had loomed so large in their future is actually a little smaller than many US cities - less than 40 square miles, and a bit isolated, with no direct neighbors. Pale sandy beaches are mostly empty - even on this Holiday weekend (at least US observed) there is no sign of crowds of beach-going tourists. The island is covered in lush greenery - "Emerald of the Caribbean" was not an idle nickname - and rises into a mountain peak that is shrouded by clouds.

"It's lovely"

"...Wow."

"It looks like Gaugin..."

A fishing boat goes past, flying a flag that seems to be the arms of Montserrat. A British emblem in one corner, but with a woman in green holding a Celtic harp and Christian cross. There is also a small chimeric emblem on the prow - a red curling wave that Gladiola recognizes as matching that on Janice

"That's the symbol " A pointing finger while her other hand holds the ship's path steady

The boat goes past, heading out for a day's fishing perhaps. Not quite close enough to speak to, the water is choppy and a high wind, but they can see a curious glance from the captain as she heads to see. Their own boat is a sight, cobbled together and ragged sails, which may attract attention on it's own.

"It is!"

For a moment it looks like they might pull alongside, but the wind picks up, and rather than losing that propelling gust, the other vessel sails off.

Art still has his nose buried in papers. "Looks like we need to find a place called "Sanctuary. Sanctuary Arts and Crafts, in Salem." He looks up. "Montserrat, not Massachusetts." He adds, unnecessarily.

"Do either of you know how to land this thing?" The coast is approaching.

"Uhh..."

"I think we need to slow it down?"

A disappointed Chime from Citrine, who likes the wind in her hair.

"And watch for other boats to see how they do it" A though "how they dock... are there docks?"

The area where they are approaching is mostly rocky beach, a little cliffy area - ah, there is an outjutting pier with a few smaller boats at it. It looks like there is room to moor the sailboat there.

"Let's take it slow"

Thistle goes to the wheel, with a stubborn jut of her jaw.

"I think we just need to wrap a rope around one of those... concrete looking pieces, and put down the anchor." Art squints through the light, judging how the others are set.

A couple of children that were playing on the beach - run down the pier and wave at the boat. "Bonjou! Bonjou!" They call, in something that sounds a little like French, only not quite.

"Well, I took ASL. " A sheepish look "Not sure that helps"

Art listens. "That sounds like French, but with Spanish... or maybe Portuguese mixed in?" He shrugs and waves back! "Hello!" He calls, friendly!

"Maybe.. okay... stop the forward engine, go on momentum..." Flipping switches.

The young boys chatter to each other as the ship approaches. "angle? Wi, gade yo blan tankou sab la!" Laughing at this. Then one of them jumps right over onto the prow, as agile as anything with the air of practice, clinging easily to one of the lines and tossing out the tow rope to his friend. "English? Yes! We bring her in. Easy, easy!"

"English! She saved us!"

"I didn't even know there was a rope there." Art says, impressed. "Um, hi!"

"Do what the kids say " A nod and she follows instructions

"Yeah, I'm not proud. I'm not a sailor."

The younger of the boy chatters to the older in the dialect, and the elder laughs, and then shakes a finger at Gwen, the tallest and apparently thusly the leader. "You, he says, are very bad! You treat your ship better! Most Ameriken? They have shiny boats. She? Falling apart, non?"

The two boys expertly tie her up. "Touris? You are Tourists, wi?"

"Uh, sure. Tourists!"

A little grin between the boys.

"She is, and we're sorry, we are not rich tourists"

"There was a storm." She gestures at the boat.

Aw, they look a bit disappointed at that. Still, a whispered discussion, quick, and then, "Docking fee, FIVE dollars. AMERIKEN Dollars, wi?" He holds out his hand, after naming what must be an exorbitant price based on his hopeful expression!

She raises an eyebrow, wry and amused.

"Five dollars?"

A look at him, "We were in a storm and you want to take advantage of us? Is that nice?" A eyebrow raise like mom gives, one full of dissapointment with such behavior

Whispered discussion. "Four! And we show you into town. A tour, Misses!" A charmingly gap-toothed smile, he must be around Frankie's age.

A sign at the end of the dock declares that they have landed in LIME KILN BAY.

"Wait...do you know..." She goes to ground "WHere someone with this symbol lives?" SHe makes the red fin symbol in the dirt "In red?"

She checks her pockets and mutter-grumbles. "Four I think I can do..."

It was chimerical, but the kids might see a tattoo or maybe they see more than adults

She finds four singles, AND a pack of Wrigley's that seems only slightly worse-for-wear from the dunking. "Gum?"

The younger of the two goes wide eyed, and whispers, "Atansyon! Tatoo sele a..." Only to be hushed by the elder.

He now has a more cautious expression, and was starting to edge away. The sight of the candy though - or maybe it's the money? Stays his flight. He reaches out for them. "I seen it, wi. Who you looking for?"

Art offers, "We're visiting a.. a friend. A friend of a friend. His name is Judge, over at Sanctuary, in Salem."

"You truck with the old witchman?" Now looking impressed. "We can take you there."

"Well, good. We did just hire you as guides"

"And more candy when we get there." She nods.

They nod, sold now! A gesture for the wilders to follow. Past the end of the dock, along the beach, and starting up a worn trail. Other than a fisherman way down on the other side of the beach, it looks pretty lonely here.

The elder boy has taken point, and is a bit of a chatterbox now. "The pastor, he always used to say that his God would come strike down the snake-women and witchmen, for truckin' with the devil. But when the big blast came, he fled, and the witchman, he still here." A cheerful laugh. "So maybe God likes Obeah better'n some think, no?"

"Maybe, sometimes, the Great Spirit has plans for all kinds of medicine"

"People who stick by when it's hard are worth listening to."