Collected Other Stories

By Paul Morrison

COLLECTED OTHER STORIES contains thirty five imaginative, fast paced short stories covering a wide range of topics. Some in the collection are sea stories such as Dolphin Joe, The Sea Chase, Victorious, and What Ship? What Destination? Others are science fiction stories that include, The Oracle of Pentos 7, The Man From Mars, Home Sweet Home and Doomsday. Still other stories explore faith and belief in different settings and perspectives – Eye of the God, Offerings to Jupiter, Prayer of Ra, and In the Name of Allah.

In truth, the scenarios and characters in this short story collection are somewhat difficult to summarise; this is because of the diversity in the stories as well as in the writer’s imagination. The reader will be pleasantly surprised with the impressive amount of worlds and realities comprised in this 'other' universe, a universe containing historical characters and events, Pacific cultures and beliefs, journeys into both the future and the past, as well as exciting adventures that will hopefully transport the reader into new experiences and pleasures ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Morrison
• Release date: Jun 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9780992267346

Paul Morrison

Paul Morrison, a retired museologist, has also been a writer for most of his life. “I cannot remember a time when I was not writing, even when I was five or six years old. I grew up with books such as TREASURE ISLAND, 20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA and THE TIME MACHINE — these and the many other books which I read in my early years fed my imagination, a voracious imagination transporting me to faraway places, other worlds and to other times in both the recent and the more distant past...” Many of these worlds and places are visited in the novels and short story collections he has written.Besides a love of fiction, Paul also reads widely on ancient history and archaeology. “I am particularly interested in Ancient Egypt, mainly Old Kingdom Egypt during the age of the pyramid builders. I have always been intrigued as to how the pyramids were built and also about the lives of the pharaohs and the workers who constructed the pyramids. There were many questions filling my mind, but few if any answers.” This inquiring interest led to the GIZA TRILOGY books, THE PHARAOH, THE SPHINX and THE THREE QUEENS, a monumental work of well-researched fiction set against the backdrop of the three pyramids on the Giza Plateau. Together, with their associated books, THE DIVINE LIGHT, ETERNAL EGYPT (Supplement to the Giza Trilogy), and SECRET OF THE PYRAMID, these books total more than 1.3 million words! Other books written by Paul cover a wide range of subjects including historical fiction, science fiction, ghost and detective stories as well as many other genres.Paul currently lives in Hobart, Tasmania with his wife in a house overlooking the Derwent River. “The magnificent views of Hobart and Mount Wellington inspire me in my writings — but the most important inspiration is my wife, Helena.”

Book preview

IT WAS ON a bright sunny day when the sea god was sleeping and when the ocean was smooth and gentle, that the old and rusted WAITAKI steamed into Apia, the capital of Samoa. Joe was the ship’s Second Officer and I was Number Three on the island freighter operating on a government contract out of Brisbane in the early years of the twentieth century. (The year was in fact 1901). We were both young and enthusiastic, taking all in our stride as each new island visited brought us the excitement of new wonders and experiences.

We had both been on the New Guinea trade for the past two years and it was our first visit to Samoa. Joe was intrigued by its beauty. The island rose up suddenly in the early morning light and I can still remember the strange look on Joe’s face when he first saw it – a look of mysterious surprise which gradually gave way to satisfaction and a deep feeling of contentment.

Have you ever seen anything like it? he asked, and there was a dreamy sound to his words as if he was half asleep or even drunk. I could stay on an island like that forever. I would throw my watch into the sea and forget about time altogether.

What if the surf carried your watch back to you? I said with a laugh.

He didn’t reply but continued looking at the island.

There is a hotel on the other side of the town where we can have a good time, I said finally to break the lingering silence. I remembered what our Chief Engineer, ‘Greaser’ Murphy had told me at breakfast. Well Joe, are you going to come along? He hesitated.

I don’t think so – at least not this time. Maybe I will just have a look round the island by myself. He was looking down at the water as it surged past the bow of the ship.

"Dolphins," he said. I followed his eyes.

A group of dolphins was surfing on the waves forced out by the bow of the WAITAKI as she moved through the water. They seemed to gather in the area beneath the deck where we were standing and they kept our attention with their playful antics. Eventually, all the dolphins began to disappear until finally there was only one left. It kept close to the ship, riding the bow wave and sometimes it would disappear and then suddenly reappear on the other side of the ship as though it were teasing and playing with us. As we steamed into the port of Apia some time later the lone dolphin was still with us.

After the WAITAKI discharged her cargo we went ashore. There were five of us in our little group including Greaser who, with his knowledge of the island, had offered to act as our guide. As soon as our feet touched the wharf we were off towards the hotel on the edge of town. Despite my pleas, Joe didn’t join us. He had made up his mind to take a stroll around the island, or at least that part of the island he could see in the three short hours we were allowed ashore.

He had told me that he wanted to take a leisurely climb up the hill above the town so he could get a better view of the beauty of the island, a beauty which seemed to have a bewitching effect on him. Time seemed to be of no importance and he didn’t want to spoil his exploration of the island by hurrying – for to Joe, time was a peculiar disease of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, and this disease had no place in his new-found paradise.

As we headed off down the coastal road laughing and joking, I looked back to see Joe hurrying up the steep hill leading to the gentler slopes high above the town. I thought to myself how amusing it was. For a man who didn’t care much about time, he was certainly in a hurry.

The three hours passed swiftly and we were soon back onboard the WAITAKI and what a grumbling lot we were. The hotel on ‘the edge of town’ was much further than we expected and much of our time was taken up on the road looking for it. Greaser’s only defence was that he was a little drunk the last time he visited the hotel and in that state or despite it, he had not realised how far it really was.

As the WAITAKI prepared to sail, I went down to Joe’s cabin. I hadn’t seen him since we went ashore so I assumed he was resting after his climb up the hill. His cabin was empty though and I became concerned. Had he done something foolish? Perhaps he had met with an accident or become lost in the growing darkness? As I came up on deck to inform the Captain there was a faint cry from the wharf. I leaned over the railing, peering into the darkness and could make out the figure who was calling out. It was Joe!

For God’s sake give me a hand will you!

I hurried down the gangway to assist.

There he was standing with an armful of native carvings. The cart driver who had driven him to the wharf was unloading another bundle of carvings from the back of the cart and these were promptly deposited into a pile on the wharf. I took some of the carvings from Joe and he gave a sigh of relief.

Thought for a moment I was going to drop them, he said, before adding as an after-thought, They are very fragile – all hand-carved.

I studied the grotesque wooden mask I was holding and Joe noticed the look of confusion on my face. He laughed.

I will tell you what happened when we get this stuff on board. He hurried up the gangway with a bundle of the carvings. I followed after him with the other bundle. You won’t believe what happened, and Joe’s excited voice echoed up from inside the ship as he disappeared below to his cabin.

Some hours later, we were both sitting on the bridge of the WAITAKI as it steamed back to Brisbane. It was my watch but Joe decided to join me. He appeared just as a cool and gentle sea breeze blew in from the south, and we both sat there enjoying the tranquility which only a sailor can know. He was leaning back and looking up at the night sky. After some time had passed, he gave a short sigh and turned his attention from the stars. Before Joe could tell me his story, however, I quickly asked him a question which had been playing on my mind.

Those carvings you bought – what are you going to do with them? You must have spent nearly a week’s pay in buying them.

I will probably get rid of them, was his casual reply.

Why buy them in the first place?

"It seemed a good idea at the time. To tell the truth, I didn’t really care all that much about them in the first place, but I had to buy them in order to make myself known to the people in the village – her people. It was simply an attention-getter you could say."

I let him continue. I was intrigued by this mysterious woman who had somehow bewitched him into spending a week’s pay on some useless carvings. Joe sighed again and then began his curious story with great enthusiasm.

"I only intended on climbing the hill to have a better look at the island. And what a climb it was! Halfway up, I was completely exhausted and had to stop to catch my breath. I looked out across the island and what a magnificent sight it was. I have seen tropical islands before but never one as beautiful as this.

"The town was nestled around the bay below and the faint lights in the houses and on the ships in the harbour were beginning to twinkle in the early evening light. Beyond the harbour was the ocean – a blackness in this fading light, broken here and there by the white caps of the waves crashing against the reef. However, my attention quickly returned to the island. I looked further up the slope of the hill which was covered in a layer of tropical vegetation. After resting for a short time, I then continued up the hill determined to reach its top.

The vegetation gave way to a forest of trees. Night had suddenly arrived and as I continued through the forest, I soon became aware that I was lost. I now followed the downward slope again which would take me back to the town, but when I eventually emerged from the forest I was both surprised and confused. Here Joe paused for a brief moment as his mind tried to put into words whatever it was that had surprised and confused him.

Go on, I said. What did you find beyond the forest?

"What I found was not the grassy slope I had climbed but the edge of a high cliff. It appeared suddenly out of the darkness and I nearly tumbled over it, just managing to grab a bush as my right foot slipped on some loose rocks. As I peered over the edge, I could make out the faint outline of a beach perhaps one hundred feet below me. Where was the town? I soon realised that in my downward walk through the forest, I must have walked at an angle away from the town and was now further along the coast.

"I continued along the top of the cliff in the direction in which I judged the town to be until a faint glow far below, like the glow of a firefly, suddenly attracted my attention. Looking over the edge of the cliff, I saw a native standing on the beach holding up a torch of burning wood. He was calling to me but his words were drowned out by the surf crashing on the beach. I was surprised that in the darkness he had seen me at all. As I watched him waving his torch and calling out to me, I had the strange feeling that he had been there, waiting – waiting for me to appear!

Following the direction of his torch, continued Joe, "I found a narrow track leading down to the beach. It was an extremely dangerous descent in the darkness. I continued down until after what seemed forever, I stood on the beach. I glanced back towards the high cliff and thought what a relief it was to be near the sea again. But I was alone. The torch bearer was hurrying along the beach and without thinking, I hurried after him.

" ‘Can you tell me where the town is?’ I asked when I finally caught up with him.

" ‘Beyond the village.’ He paused and studied me carefully through the glow of the torch. ‘You look tired and hungry. You should eat first at the village and then I will take you back to the harbour and your ship.’ I was surprised that he knew I was a sailor because I was dressed in my best shore clothes. He motioned with the torch for me to follow and without thinking, I again followed after him. The WAITAKI and my shipmates were suddenly forgotten.

" ‘Not many strangers come to our island,’ said the torch bearer. ‘Once there were missionaries and traders, and, of course, there was the great Tusitala, but these days only sailors come to our island.’ (Robert Louis Stevenson or as he was known by the natives of Samoa, Tusitala – the Teller of Stories. Stevenson, whose books and short stories include Treasure Island, Kidnapped, The Black Arrow, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide and The Bottle Imp spent the last years of his life in Samoa. He died there in 1894).

" ‘You are lucky to live on such an island. Where I come from,’ and there was a touch of envy in my words, ‘there is nothing to compare with the beauty of your island.’

"He shook his head.

" ‘All is not as you would believe it to be, stranger. The town and the ships are not part of the island. Yet, they are here. When I was a small child, the town was only a single wharf and a few houses, but now it crowds around the finest bay on the island. The bay,’ and there was silent anger in his voice, ‘was once the religious heart of the island, where the dolphins who are the children of the sea god came to speak to us and bring good fortune to our people. Now the dolphins stay away and the happiness they brought to our people has also gone away.’

"I now thought about the lone dolphin which had followed our ship into the harbour, and when I told him he looked at me in horror.

" ‘The lone dolphin is a bad omen. It brings misfortune. If it had been a group of dolphins it would have been lucky – or even two dolphins which mean friendship or love. Those who see the lone dolphin will themselves become victims of sadness and perhaps even tragedy. It is a bad omen indeed.’

"I was intrigued by his story of the dolphins and their strange disappearance from the island. We walked on in silence along the beach, with only the sound of the surf smashing against the outer reef disturbing the stillness of the night. Funny ideas began to play in my mind, for the roar of the surf and the noise of the ocean seemed to form strange words in my mind. It was as if the god of the sea – his god was reaffirming the warning of my companion and in my mind appeared vivid pictures of shipwrecks and sharks, the terrible things that would befall those who were accompanied by the lone dolphin. A short time later, we reached the village.

"There was a large fire burning in the middle of the village from which poured clouds of steam from beneath palm fronds placed over hot coals. A group of people sat around this large fire talking, while small children ran and played. As we entered the village which was lit by the glow of the fire, its light gave me the opportunity to study my companion more closely because, as we walked along the beach he had kept the torch at arm’s length, his face remaining hidden in the darkness.

"His hair was a frizzy white and in the flickering light of the fire the lines on his face appeared deeply etched with age – extreme age. I tried to guess how old he could be... seventy years... eighty years... perhaps even a hundred. Noticing my interest he suddenly motioned for me to sit down beside the large fire and it was then that I noticed the other faces turned towards me with suspicion.

"There was an awkward silence and even the children stopped playing. A large man suddenly jumped to his feet and removed the palm fronds from over the fire. As the smell of freshly cooked fish and vegetables rose up from the hot coals, so the singing and laughter also returned.

"We ate and what a meal it was! I have never tasted such food before, food that can fill the stomach to bursting, and yet, leaves the taste buds of the mouth craving for more. There were a dozen varieties of fish and meat, as well as numerous exotic vegetables and fruits. The more I ate the more they filled the large wooden bowl that sat on my lap, and in turn, the more I ate. Finally, the old man stood up and motioned in silence for me to follow him. A young girl sitting opposite also stood up and followed behind us at a distance.

"The old man took me to a hut on the edge of the village. As we entered, he lit a small lamp and held it so that the inside of the hut was illuminated. A number of wooden carvings were stacked round the walls of the hut while in the middle was a simple bed of grass clippings slightly elevated above the floor on a mound of dried mud. An old table stood near the bed.

" ‘This is your home?’ I asked.

" ‘It is where I live and work,’ he replied, picking up an unfinished carving and examining it in the light of the lamp. ‘I am too old to go with the young men to the reef to fish, and my limbs are too tired to walk up the hill to the vegetable gardens. And now, even my eyesight is beginning to fail. Here... Look at this.’ He handed me the wood carving.

"I studied it closely. It was carved into the smooth lines of an albatross with its wings extended in a gliding flight and its head lowered in search of fish. With great care I held onto its outstretched wings, thinking that at any moment it would fly from my grasp. I marvelled at the detail – the intricately-carved feathers, a beak fully open as if it was crying out the cry an albatross makes, and the small searching eyes of inlaid shell. Only its tail feathers remained unfinished and it was here that the old man drew my attention.

" ‘The wood is knotted below the surface,’ he said, pointing to a small area among the roughly cut tail feathers. ‘It will not be smooth and will crack when I chisel it.’ And then he added with a sigh, ‘I should be more careful in my choice of wood, or perhaps allow younger eyes to choose for me.’ He looked towards the door of the hut.

"The young girl who had followed us stood in the doorway. The light from the lamp cast a golden shadow across her body and my eyes followed the soft curve of her breasts, her long slender legs and then, as if drawn by a strange and mysterious force, I looked into her eyes and observed the beauty of a face half-hidden by flowing dark hair – an innocent face with the same gentle and inquiring eyes as that of the old man and the other villagers. She smiled and then looked away, and then began to nervously brush the long dark hair from her face. The old man moved forward and took her by the hand and she entered the hut.

" ‘My granddaughter, Teshmai,’ he said with pride in his voice. The young girl bowed politely and in her soft and gentle voice said a greeting in her native language. All this time her eyes were on the floor of the hut and I sensed a shyness about her which made my attraction to her even stronger. There was a clumsy silence.

" ‘We make our living with the carvings,’ said the old man finally. ‘Twice a week we take them to the town to sell to the sailors. As you are a guest in our village, I will give you one to take with you. Perhaps the sailors on your ship will like it and buy some more carvings.’ He noticed my indecision at his offer and picked up a carving.

" ‘Here... Perhaps you would like this one?’

"It was a beautiful carving of a woman. In one arm she cradled a small child against her left breast while her other arm was outstretched towards the sky. In the outstretched and open hand was, and I looked at it closely in the dim light of the lamp, a tiny white pearl.

" ‘It is the mother goddess of our island,’ said the old man. ‘The child represents our people and the pearl is the sun which gives life to the island. The mother goddess will protect you and bring you much happiness.’ As he spoke, my attention wandered to an odd-looking carving that lay nearby.

"It was a fish that looked like a shark but also had certain characteristics to that of a dolphin. The wood was roughly hewn and the carving had a clumsy but simple and appealing look to it. When I picked it up, the young girl, Teshmai came to my side and her soft hand stroked the carving as if to give life to it. She continued to speak a word in her native language and there was a look of anxiety as she pointed towards the sea. I repeated the word, mystified by its meaning.

" ‘She calls out to the dolphin,’ explained the old man. I suddenly remembered the story of the dolphins and how their disappearance from the island had brought hardship to the people. I looked carefully at the strange carving as the old man spoke again.

" ‘Teshmai has never seen a real dolphin. They were gone long before she was born. I have told her the legends of the dolphins and it was from these legends that she carved the dolphin which you hold in your hand.’ I looked at the strange carving.

" ‘So, it is a dolphin!’

" ‘It is her first carving,’ the old man replied. ‘She has much to learn about the craft of wood. It would, of course, have been much easier for her to choose a subject with which she is familiar, such as a turtle or bird. My granddaughter,’ and there was a faint smile on his face, ‘is very independent and wanted very much to do a carving of a dolphin – like the dolphins she had heard about in the legends, but has never seen.’

" ‘You said I could have a carving,’ I said to him. ‘I will take the dolphin, but I must give your granddaughter something in return.’ I fumbled through my pockets but there was only my pipe and a crumpled ten pound note. And then a strange idea entered my head and I took the money from my pocket.

" ‘Old man, you have been very kind to me and I like the carvings you have shown me. It may be some time before my ship returns to the island and therefore, I would like to buy as many carvings as I can.’

"This was a clumsy lie and I had the impression that the old man saw through it. He directed Teshmai to help me choose a number of carvings and I felt embarrassed as the old man looked on in silence, for he knew that I was attempting to impress him with my money and influence – in order to impress the girl. After we had collected the carvings, I turned to the old man and handed him the crumpled note which he reluctantly accepted.

" ‘Promise me that you will take Teshmai to Apia and buy her a beautiful dress and a pretty necklace with some of this money,’ I said to him. He turned to Teshmai and in his native language told her what I had just said. The young girl clapped her hands in delight and there was excitement in her face.

" ‘You must always be open and honest in your thoughts,’ the old man suddenly said to me, ‘particularly in friendship or in love, otherwise your actions will bring misunderstanding and hurt to those around you.’ He looked once more towards Teshmai.

I thought about his words as I left the village, assisted by two of the villagers who helped carry the carvings to the edge of the town. Teshmai and the old man stayed behind. As we walked along the beach towards the town, I thought about the warning of the lone dolphin and I asked the two villagers about the dolphins. Had they seen any whilst fishing? Beyond the reef and far out to sea was their reply, as on rare occasions they had caught glimpses of the dolphins, but never close to the island...

That was Joe’s story of his time ashore...

True to his word and on the following day, Joe disposed of the carvings. Some of the crew members on their first visit to the islands showed great interest in them, for the carvings were indeed finely executed pieces of native art.

Joe was inclined through guilt to give the carvings away but ten pounds was nearly a week’s pay. Besides, he now needed the money for a special project he had in mind. I gladly bought the mother goddess, and even Greaser bought one of the carvings, a fertility god with the supposed powers to enhance one’s sexual drive. The crew members bought the others although Joe decided to keep the odd-looking dolphin. He said it was needed to give him inspiration in the special project he was working on, but I knew its attraction to him was because it was carved by the girl, Teshmai, for whom he had an obvious fondness.

And what was Joe’s special project?

When we reached Brisbane, the project was firmly entrenched in his mind. He hurried ashore and returned some hours later with a number of packages wrapped in brown paper. I followed him out of curiosity to his cabin and Joe invited me in. He then proceeded to hurriedly open the packages like an excited child. I picked up the contents of one of these packages and examined it. It was a book on the herd instincts and eating habits of the Delphinus delphis, or in common language – the dolphin.

You are not seriously going to read all these books? I asked, flicking through the four hundred pages of another book on the origins and evolution of the dolphin.

It’s part of my plan, Joe replied, carefully placing the books on a shelf above his bunk. You would be surprised, they are remarkable creatures – very intelligent. I intend to learn everything I can about them. Did you know for instance... and Joe began to rattle off a number of little known facts about dolphins.

For some time after this Joe disappeared amongst his books, and apart from his duties on the WAITAKI was not sighted for several days. And then finally our ship returned to Samoa and Joe’s plan began to materialise – a strange plan in which I was also to become involved.

I had been intrigued by this girl, Teshmai. It was therefore no surprise that when the WAITAKI docked in Apia, I readily agreed to accompany Joe on his visit to the village. It was an extremely hot and sweltering day and the sea breezes that bless the islands of the South Pacific with their coolness had not yet made an appearance, when we headed off towards the beach which would lead us to the village.

Time was of no concern to us, for the trusty but old WAITAKI – a faithful companion in our travels was having engine trouble, or ‘mechanical indigestion’ as Greaser liked to call it. This would keep us in port for at least two days and so, we wandered across the island at a relaxed pace, careful to take in all of its beauty.

When at last we reached the beach which would take us to the village, we then walked along the water’s edge. Our bare feet trudged over the wet sand and the ocean swept up to our knees, with an occasional large wave crashing onto the beach. It was a cooling relief from the heat. Like small children, we picked up odd-shaped shells and examined them closely before flinging them back to the depths from where they had emerged. Here and there, far out from the shore, a portion of the reef would rise up above the sea and the waves would crash against it with great violence. Once the reef had stretched in an unbroken line nearly the whole length of the northern side of the island. A terrible storm, however, a hundred years before had smashed massive gaps in the reef, leaving much of the island and its beaches now exposed to the sea.

As we walked through this tropical paradise, we felt as if we were kings – gods even, of a realm in which we alone existed and ruled over. The world beyond the beach was no longer the real world, but a shadowy world eclipsed by the world in which we were now wandering. Much to my disappointment though, we soon discovered that we were not alone in our paradise and my poetic thoughts quickly faded as we re-entered the outside world.

A rusting hulk of a cargo ship lay barely twenty yards from the beach. It was extremely old and its funnel and masts had collapsed, no doubt from the severe storms that had over the years pushed it further and further towards the beach. There was a certain obscenity about the twisted wreck whose intrusive presence threatened to