Chapter 2: The Island
Gozo was like no place I had ever seen. Unlike the beaches of the Caribbean with their scattered palm trees, in Gozo there were mountains and green valleys as soon as the sand stopped. We found a cave, set high into the coastal rocks which overlooked a beach with red sand and, further into the distance, a fort. I did not know what sort of people existed on this island and Mother was afraid to venture far beyond the safety of the cave. The seas were rough, the air wet and the wind fierce, yet the cave was warm and without drafts. We did not venture far beyond that cave for a fortnight after arriving on the island. I left once a day to gather food and fresh water from a small spring I found nearby, but Mother never let me go beyond her sight. Robert had caught a chill on the voyage from Jamaica and the grief of losing his parents along with the day spent floating on the open sea made him become ill. I was afraid to explore further, for his sake, until he was well enough to run and hide from any newfound enemies. So, instead of looking outward, I explored inward. I would disappear into the depths of the cave for hours at a time, trying to discover the expanse of the abyss. After a week of working my way through a complicated labyrinth of rock I found water. The last room of the cave opened into a small lagoon and a smooth slide which dropped down into the sea itself. On the very edge of the slide was a series of rough steps carved into the rock which made it possible to climb down to the mouth of the cave. I often wondered about these steps, for I could not with any certainty determine if they were carved by man or some strange creation of nature. The air in this cave was warm and slightly moist. During the day the sun cast a red light on the lagoon, and at night it glowed blue with moonshine. The water was so clear you could see the seaweed on the bottom of the basin as well as each individual fish and crab that came in with the tide. This last cave and lagoon I made my own. I called it my bower. When I wanted to be alone with my own thoughts and dreams I would escape to my little cave and swim in the clear, warm pool and then sit out on the steps and watch the sea until the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.
After our first few months on the island we had made friends in the closest village to the red beach. It was a small village of only ten or fifteen families. There was and old woman there who lived with her son and his wife and who took an instant liking to Robert and I. He and I would walk along the edge of a green valley and up the hill to the village once every other day bringing fish, shells and driftwood. Robert would help the son with some chores around the village. I would sit with the old woman and she would tell me stories of the island. She warned me to stay away from the fort on the other side of the red beach. The island was under the control of the Knights of St. John and they may not look kindly on three English, Protestant strangers wandering about their island unchecked. She told me legends about the giant, ancient stone temples scattered throughout Gozo. When I told her more about our cave, she was afraid. She told me a myth, a legend about a goddess and a Greek warrior. No one on the island dared to enter the cave for fear of the goddess' wrath, yet my family lived there unscathed and in comfort. The old woman believed I had and air of destiny about me, that I was in the favor of the goddess and therefore protected from her wrath. I was intrigued by these stories. I did not know if I believed them, but I respected them. I did not know if there was a vengeful and lusty goddess who had once inhabited my little cave, but I knowingly did nothing that would offend such a goddess. I have always been a dreamy sort of girl. I believe in God and have since I can remember, and at the same time I do not discount the myths and legends which make up the fabric of the world in which we live. Who am I to say that such things do not exist?
Nine years passed. We continued to live in our cave on the island, trading and working with the small village on the other side of the green valley. Robert went to live with the old woman's son and daughter in law but still came to see us every few days. He grew into a sturdy young man who was chased by the few girls of the village. My mother grew old before her time and became fragile and silent. I grew into a woman. The few men I met on the island showed an interest in me, but I did not entertain the idea of marriage. I had always hoped to one day return to Jamaica, my first home, and did not want to form a bond which would tie me forever to this Mediterranean Eden. And so, at the age of twenty three, still unattached and living in the goddess' cave with my aging mother, my life began to change. I looked into the sky one day and saw black clouds begin to gather. I saw the coming of the storm.