The Four Little Witches

The four Little Witches

By

Jean-Luc Roy

The Four Little Witches

Copyright © 2012 by Jean-Luc Roy,

All Rights Reserved.

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

The Little Galleon

The Captain

The Voyage

The Island

The treasure

The Return

For my grandmother, who lit a flame in my heart,

Which allows me to see her amongst the Angels,

Who walk beside Him.

And for the young at heart,

No matter what age they might be.

The Four Little Witches

Chapter 1

The little Galleon

In the days before our forefathers, there used to be four little Witches who lived at the four corners of the Earth. They were the daughters of the wicked Witch of the West, the naughty Witch of the North, the slimy Witch of the South and the eerie Witch of the East.

The daughters mirrored their mums in many ways, but being young, they were less serious about potions and more mischievous about things. Like their mothers, they would get on their magic brooms once a year and be spellbound on a sweep of the sky to find that most mysterious of all islands.

The island is quite unusual in the sense that every Witch that has ever lived is buried there, and if you’re not careful where you walk, you could do more than rattle their bones.

The island itself is not very large, but its shoreline is aligned with big rugged peaks that act like a barrier to the traveler. Facing towards the centre, the hills are full of caves overlooking a valley that is filled with twisted dying trees where the vultures sit the night away while the bats take over the night sky.

During the day you can see the vultures flying high, for they are the Witches’ eyes in the sky; but on the ground you will find the cats and the rats playing cat and mouse while the spiders scurry towards their entangled prey.

The whole place looks so bleak and desolate that no one wants to go there; for the eerie spell of the Witch of the East puts a fear into all but the most intrepid who ventures near it. But as it turned out, that is precisely the reason why the island was chosen as a hideout for stolen treasures.

The pirate that buried the treasure was quite famous in his time; that is until him and his crew perished in a storm, taking with them the secret of their treasure, or so everyone thought.

Well, the treasure map did survive, yet in a sense it was lost and remained so for a long time. It’s as if fate played a part, for amongst the debris bobbing along, one could see a beautiful little replica of a Spanish Galleon.

With the prevailing currents and winds, time did its deed. So it came to pass that the model ship crossed bow with a Chinese Junk that had been blown far off its course due to a tropical storm. The old Chinese fisherman was so taken aback by the sight of this little ship in full sail that he couldn’t believe his eyes.

He did not know what to think or do, for he had been told of the big tall white and black men of other lands; but he was also aware of the myth of the little people; therefore, he reasoned that if the big ones did exist, then the small ones should; besides, it made him feel like a giant and he enjoyed the feeling. Perplexed at the implication, he kept staring.

As he cautiously moved his Junk towards the little ship, it suddenly became evident what the nature of the little boat was, hence with a smile of amusement on his lips he called himself an old fool as he reached over to scoop it out of the water.

He admired its beauty and appreciated the sealed hull as the reason it stayed afloat; then it was homeward bound where the little ship remained as a family heirloom of the encounter that never was.

As time went on, the old man passed the ship on to his eldest son, who in turn passed it on to his own as a going away gift to a far distant shore. For being poor and facing an uncertain future, the son had signed-on as a labourer on a work-gang abroad in a quest to escape the shackle of poverty.

He was to embark on a freighter along with hundreds of others destined for Vancouver, where they would work on the western link, building the great Canadian Railroad. However, it turned out to be a most unpleasant voyage, for the seas were rough and they felt like sardines in a tin can; yet, it was a voyage of hope and dreams, a chance for a new start in a land of tall beauty.

Their senses were so heaved by the constant rolling of the ship, that it alleviated the problem of the disgusting meals. The so-called food was so bad, that regurgitation might have improved it.

When they arrived, they thanked their God and everyone else’s Gods for saving their lives. And then they kissed the ground where unknown to them, a wino had pissed awhile ago. Coniferous rain they thought was not what they were used to.

They were herded like cattle then transported by train to what proved to be substandard work camps. The labour turned out to be hard and dangerous, thus many died as if in a bad dream; however, most of them did survive and went on to prosper in what proved to be the great land of opportunities.

It was for such a reason that the son had come to the city. After working on the railroad for close to five years, the time had come to look ahead, so that one could take advantage of the influx of people the newly completed rail line would bring in.

When he checked into the Regina Hotel, little did he know that in the day to come, he would find himself in one of the few remaining buildings in the whole city. He had come to town to buy a laundry with the money he had slaved for, but instead there wouldn’t be anything but ashes to build upon. For there was a conflagration, the town was burning Vancouver was in flame. Along with everyone else, he helped fight the fires, but alas it was in vain. And when the smoke had cleared, you could see above else, the despair in people faces. It had raised hell, and yet, you could see and feel the will to rebuild. The spark was there.

How fortunate, he thought to himself, for there he was safe and sound with his cash and his most treasured possession, the little galleon, while others had lost it all. However, there had been many moments while on the fire line when he’d thought otherwise, for on numerous occasions he had seen dense smoke engulf his hotel, to the point that he thought it might be on fire. Moreover, each time the smoke had cleared and his heartbeat had gone back to normal; but talk about heartburn!

When good can come of bad a purpose will emerge, and so it was that the tragedy pulled the town together like nothing else ever had. You could even see the difference in the building materials being used, for instead of wood everywhere one could see stones, bricks and steel; there was an air of permanence, this was their city, Vancouver would someday come of age.

However, before getting there, there was a great deal to accomplish. Not so much in the physical building of the city, for that would get done, but mostly in harmonizing the relationship between the races by making them realize that culture shock, as unpleasant as it can sometimes be, can and will enhance the roots of all who grow tall.

So it came to be that the son became involved in the fight to stay. In the aftermath, he had bought land and built a laundry where one had stood before; and now as a land owner he had a stake in the future; this land was now his celestial house, and nobody was going to derail his plans or railroad him or any of them back to China.

They had helped build the railroad and paid a high price in human lives, and now after labouring to rebuild the town and establishing roots, a movement was afloat to ship them back. Them, the yellow hordes, the heathen, the dogs as they were called.

Well if they were dogs, then they would fight with the tenacity of a mad dog and hold their ground. It wasn’t easy, but necessity had forced the issue, hence bringing the best out of them; thus they remained. Although, not without paying the toll abuse inflicts on a person’s outlook on life.

There were dark moments when they could have easily lost their aim, except for the fact that they never wavered in their goal and as such remained true. For as far as the Chinese were concerned, the white man did not know it yet, but they knew they were here to stay.

In time justice prevailed over the laws, so they gained many rights but none as dear to their heart as the right to bring in wives. The future was assured, even though the head tax to enter the country would make it unjustly expensive for its time. It ranged from fifty to five hundred dollars.

The son had been one of the first to send for a bride, and on the fateful day that she was due to arrive, the men had gathered on the pier like a bunch of love struck puppy dogs with tails high to watch the pretty sight.

To want and have are two different things, and sometimes wanting is better than having. Nevertheless, the moment had arrived, and as she walked down the gangplank, the men were suddenly struck with a strange mixture of awe and fright at what could be their fate. So much so in fact, that their yellow complexion nearly vanished, thus revealing the whiteness inherent in us all.

If this was any indication of what was to come, then the colony could be doomed. For standing there was ugliness personified. No wonder she was the first to come, they probably wanted her out of China.

The whole situation had become very unnerving for the men, for to find yourself unable to look away when you cannot bear to watch is very perplexing, especially when one is receiving good vibrations. It was a most bizarre feeling.

The shock of the moment had taken them aback, but now as they regained their composure, they acknowledged her presence by smiling. It pleased her. And as they gathered to leave, they shook the son’s hand leaving him to wonder if it was done to congratulate him, or in sympathy.

He did not know what to think, for a commitment had been made and a man’s word must be kept. And so with misty eyes about to deluge, he held back a dam of tears as he spoke to welcome her.

After a short conversation, it became evident to him how vibrant a woman she was. Her character no doubt shaped by her look and made strong by rejection. While most go inward and whimper to themselves never to come out at their full potential, her motto seemed to be, strength through adversities. He liked that, she would an asset, not a liability.

There was no courtship to speak of since all had been arranged. However, in the short time that he got to know her, he realized that the choice had been a good one. For being a practical man, he was more concerned with what was in the box than with the wrapping.

It was not a big wedding as standards go. Nevertheless to keep with tradition, many dishes were served that were fit for a King. And so a feast was had that lasted many hours into the night. There was joy and happiness, and after receiving the traditional Lee See, (meaning good luck) the little red bags filled with donations, he had made a speech devoid of negatives to suit the occasion, as his wife lovingly sat next to him in her Kwa.

(Chinese wedding dress)

It wasn’t that long after the wedding when the daily grind caught up with them; in fact, they were hard at work the next day earning a living. They lived above the laundry which provided ample heat in the winter, but with too much in the summer. Thus on the warm summer nights, they would sit outside on the porch and tell each other about their dreams and aspirations while making plans to make them happen.

As time would have it, she eventually became pregnant and gave birth to quadruplets, four boys who would prove to be a handful. They were unprepared for four, but the babies were ready and they came, this was their show. They emerged without a stitch from their slumber, to be promptly tagged from one to four amid cries of protest.

After wrapping and cleaning the babies and the mother, the midwives had made a special herbal tea to fortify the woman. However, as they sat down it wasn’t at all evident who needed it the most; the midwives or her, for the births had not been easy as time and numbers go. Moreover, the labour had been one of love; making it all worthwhile.

As she sat up in bed holding each baby in turn to feed at a breast, she kept trying to think of names that would be short and sweet, but significantly different from the pack. She was not having any success raking her brain, till her eyes focused on the scene outside the window.

From where she was sitting, the little she could see of False Creek looked like a pond; and from that single look, she was inspired to call them Ponza, Ponze, Ponzi and Ponzo, the last letter symbolizing their order of birth. For in their culture as in most, birthrights must be reckoned with, since they are so entrenched in tradition.

As loving parents, they raised their children as best they could. And while living near water is every child’s chance at endless muck about, to live in an ethnic society was like having a second family; thus the attention, protection and the feeling of belonging so dear to us all were attained.

Growing up on the shore of False Creek building rafts, and squashing nails on the rail tracks as the trains passed by so they could be used as arrow heads, prepared them well for what was to unfold. For in days past, the world as we know it was not always so. There was once darkness, where there is now light.

Many an event has left its mark, thus pointing the way in new directions. Preordained destiny for the few has changed the history of us all for the better or worst. However, how things come about sometimes seems mysterious; and so it was with Ponza, Ponze, Ponzi and Ponzo.

The adventure that changed the world began in their early teens, at thirteen to be exact; as if that number had a significance of sort, or is it that it has since? No matter, since how we view things is relative to the time or to one’s mind, for childhood fantasies become reality as we age. That is how old folks attain their second childhood, or so they think.

It had been a usual mild Vancouver day with light mist floating down on its way to the sea, when the boys had gotten together to play ball. Rain or shine the game went on and the ball flew high. However for some reason, today the ball also went sideways through the front window into the living room and by the look on their faces the glass was not all that was shattered at that instant. Great visions of spanking loomed in their thoughts, even though they had never been spanked before.

They dropped their home made mitts of stuffed cloths and ran inside the house to retrieve their ball and clean up the glass. There was no sense denying the fact and making things worse by hiding or lying. One had to face up, and life would go on. They hoped.

As they went up the side stairs and entered through the front door on the balcony, they saw the other damage that the ball had done, and as such they very nearly became the youngest Hobo on the next train out of town. However, they remained standing in fear instead to face the music, even though it would be a sour note to be sure. For laying on the floor broken was their father’s most precious possession, the little galleon.

It lay on its side with broken masts and a split deck, as if resting from past glories in a watery grave. They did not dare touch it in case they would damage it even more. Thus as the eldest, Ponza would have the unenviable task of informing their dad.

When Ponza entered the laundry, he slowly walked toward his dad as if very reluctant to do so. As opposed to his usual upbeat twinkling eyes, Ponza looked down and worried. Thus his father’s response, you know, unless you tell me I won’t be able to help you!

You promise to help?

Of course I’ll help! As much as I can.

I need a lot of help, I have to fix something. It was an accident dad, we we’re playing baseball and the ball went sideways right through a window. It’s just one of the small panes off the patio.

I see. I suppose it was bound to happen someday, but don’t do it again.

It broke something inside. The ball did, Ponza added real fast as if it diminished the fearful moment.

Out with it. Don’t talk in circle, get to the point, his dad replied with a stern voice.

Well, the ball hit the galleon and it knocked it down from the mantle, the boy said as he looked straight into his dad’s face expecting a blow-up.

I wish this was not true. That little ship means a lot to me, so let’s hope it can be fixed. I will be up as soon as I can to look at it. Meanwhile, you and your brothers can contemplate a punishment. Now go and leave the ship alone, don’t touch it.

Yes father. Ponza turned akin to his feet being on a pivot and he was out of there in a flash; running to inform his siblings of the terrible look on their father’s face. A seed of torment had been planted.

Hong, as he was known, was upset. But an accident is an accident, no harm was meant.

Moreover, he would let them brew and wallow in their thoughts, which would be their punishment. For he knew that the mind is a powerful enhancing tool; that it either embellishes or leads to despair. The perfect instrument of Chinese mental torture. It beats spanking hands down, he reasoned.

It wasn’t long before Hong made it up to the living room. His face was gloomy as he looked at the ship’s replica by the fireplace. As he slowly picked-up the little galleon, he was extremely careful in his handling of the broken masts. He then sat the whole thing on the kitchen table.

As he examined the damage, he noticed that there seemed to be some kind of parchment inside the hull. The wooden deck had cracked in such a way as to allow him a glimpse inside the hull, but the splits in its miniature planks were not big enough to let him reach in and pull out the rolled up piece of skin.

As he got up to get one of his razors sharp all purpose knife, he looked at the four pair of eyes focusing on his every movement. He never said a thing, the mental game had to endure to be effective, so he proceeded to open the ship’s hull in a way that would not aggravate the repairs.

After enlarging the opening, he used his wife’s tweezers to pull at the parchment till he was able to grab it with his fingertips. As he flattened the parchment roll to pry it through, his thoughts were about a message in a ship as opposed to a bottle. However, the look on his face made it evident to the boys that something was happening in his mind.

His face was the mirror of his thoughts as he opened the roll. There was a look of puzzlement and disbelief all rolled into one. His mind said no, but the child inside of him said yes; for like everyone else his mind had been preoccupied with treasure maps, pirates and the likes as a kid. He now had one big question in his mind, and that was, how can you tell a genuine treasure map from a fake?

They would have to go to Vancouver’s first and only library to check out the name of this purported pirate who called himself, Yellow beard. Meanwhile he thought it best to tell his kids what the unfortunate accident had unveiled. He waved them over with his finger, and as they examined the map while listening to his spiel, their thoughts ran wild.

Fantasies were taking over with thoughts of gold and precious stones. It had to be real, why else would they hide it in such a ship? It had to be. So prayers were made by the boys on that fateful night to every God they had ever heard of, Buddha, Christ and even Satan, whoever he was, probably unnerving the poor devil.

With his wife’s blessing, the first thing on the agenda the next morning was a trip to the library with his kids in tow. They had used the place many times before in their quest for a better education, but today would be sheer fun and excitement for them. This was the stuff that dreams were made of, a turn of event that crossed your path only once in a lifetime.

What they found out did indeed re-enforce their belief in the map. For there had been a pirate named Yellow Beard; he was not some figment of someone’s imagination. He had been a raider on the high seas, attacking the Spanish Galleons for the gold they carried back to Spain to be melted for the King.

As mythology would have it, he was last encountered on the West coast of South America; and as with most pirates, their treasures were never found. This is quite understandable since most bounty ended up at the bottom of the sea or in the British coffer, transferred at sea into Man-of-War, the English fighting ship.

It was Britain’s way of acquiring the wealth they needed and lacked, while keeping their foes in check. As oppose to what the records show, there were many pirates on the British payroll; and many if not most never turned in as much bounty as they were supposed to. However, the losses were deemed acceptable in lieu of the alternatives by the English. It worked well; a true mutually beneficial relationship was achieved while the old Queen kept her nose clean. Long live Victoria.

Hong (his last name was Jang) had read of such things. He was well aware that countless Treasures lay buried in watery depositories around the world with no living beings remaining to lay claim. Forever entombed as markers of greed for their ghostly souls, beckoning to us all.

As Hong explained his findings to his kids, the adrenaline flowed in their veins like a wild torrent. Their thoughts were peaking like dam-busters waiting to be released. The idea of sunken treasure was raising their emotions to new heights.

When they left the library, their behaviour was one of exuberance that stood out amongst the normally subdued people who walked the wooden sidewalks of the city. Their faces were beaming like a beacon radiating exciting thoughts, while their heartbeats became the marching drums that propelled their feet ever faster towards home.

Thus a walk that normally would have taken forty-five minutes seemed to have lasted only minutes in their minds. Hence, they soon found themselves telling their mother about their findings, consequently imparting in her an equal amount of enthusiasm for what lay ahead.

They were at a point were reality was asking the question, What do we do now?

Should they take a chance and gamble? If so, how to go about it? But those were their questions, not those of the wife and mother.

For as far as she was concerned, when the four Goddesses of Fate blew a fateful wind your way, you grabbed on and sailed along to wherever or to whatever it led. She was a rare pearl, her mane was Ping, and she believed in taking the bull by the horns. So the hunt was on.

Chapter 2

The Captain

Both Hong and Ping had come to picturesque Vancouver aboard a freighter skippered by a Britisher who owed his life to the Jang’s clan. They had saved the mariner’s life during a bout of Malaria. The man had come inland to force trade with China by introducing Opium, and he’d fell ill.

The Chinese had been relatively self sufficient, thus they weren’t too enthusiastic about trade with Britain. However, the British had other ideas; they wanted Silk, Spices, Tea and other goods to fill the bellies of their ships. Therefore, in one of the great shame of history, they forced Opium on the general population, and as such created a dependence that eventually came back to haunt them, if not the rest of the world.

The Chinese herbalists had used Opium for centuries. However, it’d only been used as a medicinal herb by their physicians. Moreover, addiction was now setting in and the lost souls were grabbing on to it, using it as a crutch, an elixir that promised everything in its trance but which didn’t delivered anything except enhanced moments in exchange for a life of drudgery. Destroying all hopes; their last vestige of humanity.

As due payment for his survival, the cruel pompous ass known as David Rice Jones, made peace with his conscience in the best of British tradition by offering to arrange passage for a rather exorbitant fee, to any member of their clan who wished to go abroad. That is, as long as he was the Captain of the vessel.

As it turned out, Jones had then been assigned on the permanent route between China and Canada. And as if the fateful winds carried on in their direction his freighter was due in the port of Vancouver at the end of June, when the kids would be out of school. But what was even more intriguing as far as coincidences are concerned, was that Jones freighter was due to pass near the coordinates written down on the treasure map.

Even though the nautical maps did not indicate the presence of any island in that particular location, Hong was certain it existed; he could feel it inside, and he made no bones about it as he spoke to his wife and kids.

Hong was certain that he would be able to arrange passage for his kids and himself for the right price. He had put a lot of his money in gold coins, since he felt that they were the optimum medium: having the combined advantage of gold and currency, while providing you with a bartering arrangement with no equals, he rightly thought.

If they could hop aboard that old tin can of a ship and have him make a slight detour, then he could pick them up on his return trip in about two months time. His children would not miss any schooling, while giving them the adventure of their lives.

They would have to wait and see, but right now the thing to do was to get in shape for the trip. Callisthenics would be the order of the day in their house from now on. They would get in shape if it killed them.

Since it was now early spring, it gave them lots of time to hone their skills. They would go trekking on trails, climb hills and camp out. The only draw back to all of this was that the lure of a treasure hunt so preoccupied their thoughts that time dragged.

They had counted the days, and by the time the end of June came around, the whole family was ready. The anticipation ran high. It had to be. It had to happen. They hadn’t come or waited this long, to be rejected by some Englishman in oversize pants.

The day was now at hand and as the father readied himself, he put on his best suit while the boys hung around to the point of making a nuisance of themselves. They were so excited about the fact that he was going to meet the captain that he had to tell them to slow down, come on you guys cut it out, and don’t bug your mother while I’m gone or I won’t tell you what he said.

Yes Ponza said, answering for them all, we’ll be waiting for you, but can you hurry up and come back as soon as you can, he added politely with a look on his face that said as much.

I won’t be that long, especially if he says no. But if that’s his answer, I will merely have to start looking for someone else; understand.

Yes, Ponza answered, but he won’t, he sounds too much like a greedy fellow to me.

That may be. In any case, I shall find out soon enough, his father said with a smile.

Shortly after those words were spoken, Hong left for the port authority’s office while his kids looked on as they enthusiastically waved him goodbye. He did not want to walk too briskly towards his destination in order not to work out a sweat, so he paced himself like a racing horse on a trot.

As he got near the harbour, Hong could see Jones ship tied up at the pier. The ship would have just come in, or so he had been informed on a previous inquiry. The clerk in charge had actually been offended when Hong had asked him for confirmation of the posted arrival date and time, thus he’d given him an exasperated look while saying that,

We at Lloyd’s Register of Shipping know the position of our vessels at all times. The Yuan, will be in port on the morning of June 27th, just as the board states; Sir! The Sir, had been added as an afterthought with disdain to boot. Very impressive behaviour, Hong had thought.

As Hong stood on the pier looking at the ship and what it symbolized; the beauty, the setting of the port of Vancouver stood out above all. The Yuan was a rusted tin bucket of a freighter. It was merely a sea container to extract money out of trade without investing any in itself, thus upholding the paradox of the merchant fleet: whether to sink on paper or at sea. They were a far cry from the Schooners of days gone by when ships were things of pride and beauty, he thought.

As Hong walked up the ship’s ramp, he could see a sailor standing and waiting. He was the duty watch, controlling who came and went. Hence, as he stepped on board he was confronted by the middle age man that looked rather unkempt. What can I do for you sir? He asked with an intonation that meant, What the hell do you want?

My name is Hong Jang, and I’m here to see Captain Jones. Can you please inform him of my presence, Hong said while keeping a very formal stance by imitating the British stiff upper lip characteristic at its best.

The crew chief looked up and down at Hong, wondering what he was doing in a suit before telling him with a shrug, "very well, if you think he’ll see you, who am I to argue.

I will inform him, he then called out to a passing sailor, hold it sailor, you take over the watch while I go see the Captain. I’ll be back in a few minutes," he then left for the bridge.

When the crew chief told Captain Jones about Hong, he remembered the clan’s name and told him to bring him in, send the man in, and you be polite, at least till we kick him off the ship, he said with a very pronounce sly smile.

Yes Captain, the chief answered indifferently.

Look alive, will you. It’s good for business. It will add value to whatever he wants, the Captain snapped.

Hong soon found himself being escorted to the bridge where Jones sat at a desk trying to look busy. After letting a few seconds elapsed, Jones turned around and got up, he then walked over towards Hong offering his hand while saying, good morning Sir. What can I do for you?

Good morning Mr. Jones. I presume that you now remember me, and maybe others of my family, since you have brought a few of us over to this great country.

Yes, Interjected Jones, I remember, especially your wife. How can one forget?

Yes, well, that is another story. Right now I am here to buy passage for my four sons and myself. I am prepared to pay the going rate, as you British say.

First you tell me that this place is a great country, and then you tell me you want to go back to China? I don’t get it, for nobody goes on this tub for a holiday cruise, Jones said incredulously.

Not to China Mr. Jones, but to an island that is situated along the way to China. We want to pick the wild Ginseng that is purported to grow there. It could be a fruitless trip; however, we are prepared to take the gamble. It is in our nature, as you no doubt know. Nothing ventured, nothing gained as you English say, and since I’m sure that you are aware of the high value attached to this root of many faces, I would think you would understand our desire.

Yes, I am well aware of the value of those little men that the root resembles. However, if there is a fortune to be made in a high quality Ginseng harvest, I would expect a percentage of the profit above the basic transport fee of… let say ten percent.

Hong had detected a slight hint of uncertainty in the Captain’s voice. The intonation in his voice had been enough to start the bartering process, and by the time they had finished, the percentage was set at five percent of the weight value of the Ginseng, along with a reduced transport fare.

Even though Hong knew that he had gotten the best deal, he proceeded to congratulate Jones on his dealing, for Hong knew full well the value of flattery properly applied in situations like these. So he extended his hand to seal the deal while saying, You drive a hard bargain Captain, but you leave me no choice except to accept your terms. I hope that things will work out in such a way that we will both prosper significantly.

My sentiments exactly Mr. Jang, and as far as the slight detour is concerned, I will have no problem trying to explain the extra time the voyage required. I will simply blame it on mechanical problems on the high sea. They’ll love it when I inform them that we managed to fix it ourselves. Money saved, that’s all they’ll think about, believe me.

It sounds good to me. That part I will leave to you, since you have the expertise, Hong said.

What I find strange is that I have never heard of an island at those particular coordinates, after all it is a well traveled part of the ocean. However, if it is there I will find it, Jones said as if he was really perplexed.

Well, its location was passed on by an old Chinese fisherman that had been blown off its Course, Hong said without really stretching the truth, since he hated lies. There was no need to tell Jones anymore than he had to, not unless they wanted trouble. The actual map would have to remain out of sight out of mind. He reasoned.

We will be leaving port on the morning of the first Sunday in July. By then our cargo should be aboard, and I will expect the passage fee to be paid in American gold coins at that time, Jones said with an air of authority.

We will be here at dawn. We’ll be bringing with us a fair amount of equipment and food to last us for the summer. We need to be self sufficient till your return and beyond, in case of a delay on your part. However, the final payment shall be made upon our return to Vancouver as agreed, Hong reminded him as a mean to secure their return.

Very well, I shall bid you farewell till then. We will be ready for you, Jones then got up thus signalling the completion of their talk.

As Hong walked along with Captain Jones towards the off ramp, a rapport had begun to form between the two men. The understanding should work out, Hong thought as he shook Jones hand before leaving, till we meet again Captain, were his last words.

Good day Mr. Jang. I’ll be waiting, Jones said while trying to add face value with a smile.

Hong seemed to spring down the ramp as if he had found new youth. He was bounding, or so it looked like as he proceeded home anxious to spread the good news.

His sons were still outside sitting around and waiting for his return. So when the boys spotted him from a distance, the boys immediately began to run in his direction without thoughts about one of the neighbours’ dog that liked to pursue anyone that did anything but walk.

They had lost a few pant legs to that dog, now one was about to lose his seat of honour.

For as Ponzo ran pass its territory, the dog lurched into action with a vengeance. He jumped on all four, wiggled his tail upward as if to say here I go, then he was gone. He then barked. However, for Ponzo it was too late, he was the last one in the row and he got nipped in the butt. His pants were now open at the rear as if a flap had gone down.

Luckily, the dog had gotten a mouthful of cotton instead of flesh, even though unknown to it; he very nearly got something else that he hadn’t counted on. So the boys slowed down, right down, as Ponzo tried to cover his bum, while the dog seemed to leer at him as he sat watching.

It was evident that the mutt had enjoyed itself. In a sense they all thought that the situation was hilarious. However, as they settled down they realized that it could have been grave. It could have counted Ponzo out of the trip. So as they came back on their tracks, they walked slowly and kept their eyes on the mutt.

Well dad, Ponza blurted, what did he say? Will he take us? Are we going?

Yes my sons, we are going. In about a week’s time we will be heading out to sea for a real treasure hunt. You will spend the whole of your summer vacation on what will probably turn out to be the greatest adventure of your lifetime, their father said with a smile, while barely controlling his exuberant emotions.

Great. You did it. Good show dad! Were the kinds of comments all of them lavished on him, as they got closer to their house. The kids could hardly contain themselves or wait to inform their mother of the good news. Thus when they arrived at the laundry, the boys all ran in yelling, mom, mom; we’re going!

Their mother looked at them smiling and nodded her head in approval. This would be a great experience for them she thought. Ping then spoke, I will start making preparations for you boys, but don’t worry, it will all be done in time. You will have a wonderful trip, I’m sure. Actually, their mother had already started getting things organized. She had known all along that they would be going. Call it instinct if you will, but she knew just the same.

Thus equipment was acquired, supplies were packed and clothes sorted for the occasion. They would take small tents, and a number of empty containers to be filled with water from the ship’s tank, since there was no way of knowing if there was any on the island.

They had gone to the old fashioned general store where everything could be bought in bulk from barrels and bins as opposed to shelves. It was always an interesting place for the boys to go to, especially the area of the store that contained the glass jars of sweets, candies of all kind that made their eyes bigger than their stomach. Although, on this occasion they weren’t there for the treats, this was a working escapade that required real food to sustain them in their endeavour.

With their dad’s guidance, they had chosen to take a variety of dehydrated vegetables along. It would make things simple, as uncomplicated as adding water to the pot; besides, being light and compact made them easy to carry. Indeed, all the food would either have to be of that type or be canned stuff.

After their general supplies had been bought, they had gone to a Herbalist to procure a small bag of Ginseng. It was one of those unfortunate costs that could not be eliminated, for if they found any amount of treasure, they would have to show Captain Jones some Ginseng. Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity about what was in the rest of the bags.

As of now they were totally ready to go. There was only two nights remaining before their departure and disaster struck. For during the night someone had broken into the laundry and stolen most of their provisions and a lot of equipment, even clothes, cleaning fluids and other things were gone. He or they had gotten through one of the small side window that Hong had always meant to put bars on. Do today what can be done tomorrow, Hong thought as he stood contemplating the damage. Things could be replaced, but the invasion would remain as a violation in their minds.

Their father had gone down to open the shop. However he was soon back upstairs to inform his wife of the situation. He’d returned with a grave look on his face that immediately implied to them that something was very wrong. Thus, Ping and the kids pondered, and dreadfully waited for him to speak, we’ve been robbed! He exclaimed in disbelief, The rats took everything of value, he said, clearly shaken and angered at the turn of event.

Ping was the first to speak, thus imparting in all of them a touch of her eternal optimism. She always made the best of whatever happened no matter what, and this was no exception. Hence, her words of comfort, well, they may have taken our stuff; but we still have our minds, which is a lot more than what they have. When you have your heart at the right place, nothing can surpass your will. You will be ready to go! Don’t worry or fill your mind with unimportant details, for things have a habit of falling into place, you shall see, and that statement combined with her usual warm smile, had brought a soothing internal peace to the boys and her husband.

Their emotions were now in check, they could now be rational about things while they applied themselves to the task at hand. Moreover, the situation was deeply imprinted on Poza’s mind as he asked his dad, what kind of people steal? What makes them take things they don’t deserve?

"People that steal or hurt others are not only untrustworthy and disrespectful, they also have no honour or pride in