Nowhere Man, Book One.Chapter 20 free porn video

John spoke with Tempo after telling the warriors to pick out huts to rest in, and get some sleep before morning. He explained to Tempo how he wanted four hands of trees, of a thickness of a hand and a half, chopped down and cut to around five or six feet in length. They could do it between them. The branches were to be cut off at the trunk, and the logs brought to the beach near the boat.

As Tempo expressed surprise, John explained the concept of the rolling road that could transport heavy objects considerable distances.

“It is not a new idea, Tempo; just not widely known.”

Then the pair got their heads down for their own nap until dawn.

Come morning, John got all the warriors to move the supplies into the boat, and prepare to move the boat by hand across moving logs; while he and Tempo found the trees, cut the logs, and laid them out for taking to the beach. After that, they would load the corpses into the boat and clean up the village of any evidence of spilled blood.

Moving the logs was a case of lifting one end to roughly a forty-five degree angle, and dragging the log back to the beach. For twenty logs, this was time-consuming, then some of the warriors decided to help with the dragging; one girl at each side of the log to share the load. It worked, and the trail left by the logs was minimal. It could appear as a normal part of village life.

Once the logs were at the beach, it was a simple procedure to lay them out as a sequence of rollers in front of the boat, then the boat had to be hauled across and up on top of the rollers. It moved easily then, except across soft sand, but even then it worked well enough.

As soon as the boat passed the last log, that had to be pulled out, dragged to a position in front of the boat, and laid down as the front roller. The boat moved well, sometimes too well, and was at the end of the rollers before the next one was laid down. The boat had to be held back to suit the speed at which the rollers could be laid, so most of the workers held the boat steady as they moved it, attempting to make a steady slow walking pace. For some rollers, the boat merely slid across the wood, the momentum carrying it forward.

In a surprisingly short time, the boat was nearing the end of the cleared area after avoiding tree stumps and wider holes, so they had to choose a route wide enough to take the boat width and the full length of the logs. This involved twists and turns, and cutting down a few bushes, but it proved less difficult than anticipated.

Once the boat was out of sight of the village, it was time to return and sweep the tracks away, leaving only a brushed surface that should become invisible within a day or so.

From that point on, movement of the boat was slower but satisfactory until they reached a wide patch of sandy ground, clear of trees and boulders.

John walked around, seeking a softer patch, and when he found one large enough to suit him, started digging with the tough wooden shovel. He hoped the sane layer was deep enough for his intentions. Watching what he was doing, some of the warriors decided to use their knives to dig into the sand to loosen it, making it easier for John to pick up shovelfuls and toss the sand well away.

Meantime, the others pulled the bodies out of the boat and dragged them well away from the spot.

As John tired, Tempo and the other male said they would take their turn, and this meant that the movement of the sand continued apace. The target was before too long a hole deep enough, wide enough and long enough for the boat to sit in, below the surface level.

In total, this took hours of work, broken only by a meal break and frequent swallows of water, but eventually a warrior could measure herself against the boat height, step into the excavation, and see that the surface was higher than that measure.

Glad to be able to stop for now, the men got out and took a breather before sliding the boat into the prepared hole. Some of the sand fell in during that move, but only at the sides, not under the boat. By eye, they could see that the boat was now completely below the top surface, so the next task was to take the tools and weapons to a safe distance, and start shovelling the sand down the sides of the boat and then inside it.

The took another long time, but less than digging it out. Even after it was covered, there was another aspect to this job. John got everyone to stamp their feet on the covering sand, to compact it and make it look as if digging had not happened. Last chore was to scatter more sand on the top and over the surrounding area.

Now, with the shovel freed from other tasks, it was carried to where the bodies lay, and a mass grave dug for them. This had to be more than three feet deep to stop predators digging out the corpses, but all the warriors knew this fact, and the shovel was soon passing from hand to hand as each digger tired.

Within half an hour the grave had been dug and filled with the layer of corpses. It was then refilled and stamped down as before, then a few stones scattered around to look natural.

With the tasks complete, all the tools and weapons were collected and distributed around, so that only one item was carried by a person. They then cut across country to join their arrival route, so that they could look for a hiding place for the food supplies. Some they would take home, but the long-life foods would be either buried or hidden in a small cave.

What they found was a small sandy clearing, which Tempo tested for softness. Choosing the spot, he started digging while John asked the warriors to go back to the village and courier the supplies back to this spot.

Within an hour, all the supplies had been moved. The warriors had stepped in the footsteps of the one ahead, so that it appeared to be one person walking this way. A deep hole with gently sloping sides awaited the food. The girls selected what foods they considered short life, or they specially wanted to try, and set these aside. The rest was handed down to those in the bottom of the hole, and stacked as tightly as possible before being covered up.

Once the hole was no long visible, John looked around and found a stone with an odd shape to it, to act as a marker for the spot. The stone had five sides and five points when it was lying flat, but John forced it deeper, so that it was unlikely to be moved accidentally, tilted at a slight angle so as not to appear deliberately placed.

The final scatter of lose stones completed the job, and John announced, “We have done the best we can. With a bit of luck, the invaders will find nothing of what we have hidden, and simply be left with a mystery. Let’s go home, my warriors.”

The warriors checked that their pace was not too onerous for the three newcomers, and set off for the distant cave. The light was already almost gone by the time they came near the cave, so John sounded a loud hello to alert the duty guard to their arrival.

Others were brought to their feet, and the returning heroes were made welcome. Anxious looks were cast over the warriors, looking for wounds, and there was delight that no-one had been truly hurt – mere scratches and bumps from the entire escapade.

The three rescued girls were made specially welcome, and Sheila summoned to check on their health and what medication was required. Hearing of their sexual abuse, Sheila stopped to think, then summoned her sister wife, Chief Numa.

“Chief Numa, my potion for those raped in the last 24 hours may not be effective, as they have been abused over several days, on the ship and ashore. Does anyone know of an abortion potion, to abort any foetus recently implanted?”

Numa informed her, “I have been talking with some of the women about such a drug, and one of them recalled a herbal remedy that was reputed to do that job, so I asked her to find that plant and bring it here. Would you like to see it?”

“Please, Chief Numa.”

Numa summoned the girl and asked her to produce the plant. She ran back to the cool part of the cave, and retrieved her find. At Numa’s request, she showed it to Sheila, who examined it carefully.

“Good God, Numa; this is parsley! I mean, by the great Earth Mother, it is parsley.”

Numa asked, “What is parsley, Sheila?”

“It is a common herb where I come from, and is used as a flavouring herb in meals. I hadn’t realised it could be used to encourage abortion.”

She spoke to the girl who had produced it. “How far away did you have to go to find this? And was there more?”

“It was a patch I found, about half a mile from here. It looked untouched, so probably it has not been recognised as a medicinal herb.”

If it is to be used medicinally, I will probably have to crush the leaves for the juice, and likely have to put the juice in a drink, most probably a warm drink to help the active ingredient to dissolve. We can administer this several times a day until we get the required reaction. I wish I knew the best dosage rate, but I can amend the dosage over time.”

“Chief Numa?” a male voice asked.

“Yes, young man?”

Fresno enquired, “Can you please tell me what has happened at my village? There are people talking about a battle there.”

“Of course. All is well for the moment. The occupiers have been despatched. Speak to High Chief John about it. He led the expedition.”

The lad soon found John among a huddle of women checking that he was okay. He hung around until one of the women demanded, “What are you up to, young man?”

“I need to speak with High Chief John, about my village.”

“Oh, yes. The fishing village. You were the messenger. Hang on while I get hold of John.”

She wormed her way through the scrum, to grab John by the arm.

“John, that lad from the fishing village wants to speak to you.”

John said, “Ah, yes. He would. Excuse me, ladies: duty calls.”

The women parted to let him get to Fresno.

“Hello again, Fresno. We did well, I think. The village has been cleared of invaders, but the big ship is due back there in about five days, so your people need to stay away longer than that. Did you have any instructions about letting your folk know it is safe to return?”

“That was what I wanted to speak with you about, sir. When it was safe to return, I was to make a big smoky fire on High Point at around midday; put it out, then make a new smoky fire a little later; and keep doing this for a while, then stop. I was to repeat this around the evening meal time. It is the pattern that is meaningful, you see.”

“I get you, Fresno. Smoke signals are sensible, but wait until a day after the big ship has again left, or these people will see the smoke and come back once more.”

“Yes, sir. That gives us some time, for I will need to collect enough firewood on the point for all the fires I need to make.”

“Quite right. We can help you with that, Fresno. Can you tell me more about this ‘High Point’ you mentioned? Where is it? How high is it above the sea?”

“About a half day’s walk from the village, at the top of high cliffs. That’s what makes it good signalling to sea. The height? I don’t know, but very high; it slopes upward as it comes to the sea, them drops off sharply. Bits of cliff fall off every year.”

“Another important question, Fresno: in what direction; up or down the coast? Is it the way the big ship will be going when it leaves the village; this is, the opposite way it went after it left last time?”

“I am not clear about direction, sir. The big ship will pass High Point before it reaches the village: that I know. Does it matter?”

“For seeing a fire in the distance, yes. If it continues in the same direction, it will be going away from you, beyond the village. That means it goes much further away, and over the horizon, before you start lighting your fires. There will be less chance of anyone noticing the fire on the coast behind them. However, make sure you cannot see the big ship from the point, then wait another half day, as a pillar of smoke goes much higher into the sky. I know the chances of seeing it from far away are slim, but we don’t want to risk it, do we?”

“No, sir. I will do as you say. The fishing boats will be fine for many days, sir. They will eat fish, and they have barrels of fresh water on board. If it rains, they can collect water using stretched hides so that the rainwater pours into a bucket or barrel.”

John queried, “They can make buckets and barrels, can they?”

“Yes, sir. The makers can cut logs into short thin planks, and use moss and similar stuff between the planks to seal them, then the outside is held together with rope that the makers produce and tie round the bucket. The rope is also glued at the knot, to keep it holding tight.”

“You seem to know a lot about this process, Fresno.”

“Yes, sir. I am learning to become a maker in the future. There is a lot to learn; everything from making rope to knowing which mosses are best for sealing planks. The barrels are done in the same way, but using longer planks and lots more rope and lots more knots.”

“What about the base? How is that fixed?”

“A different technique, sir. Holes are bored with a sharp awl in the edge of the base, and through the planks that will fit at the bottom, then a dowel made from a suitably-sized twig coated with glue is used to hold them together. That is the most secure part of the bucket or barrel; the rest is less of a worry.”

“Your awl is made from flint, I presume?” asked John.

Fresno’s eyebrows shot up. “What else is there? Do you have access to the fabled obsidian, sir? I am told it is much harder and makes better tools.”

“Not here, Fresno, but I know of this black stone. It is indeed a fine material, found near certain volcanoes. It gives very sharp edges.” John knew it could produce edges sharper than a steel razor blade, but that comparison would mean nothing here.

“I don’t think we have any volcanoes near us, sir.”

“What rock is your High Point made of, do you know?”

The lad frowned, at a loss for once.

“Sorry, sir, but I don’t know much about rocks.

“Well, simplifying things, if the rock is in layers, it usually means it is rock laid down at the bottom of the sea, and if it is rock in huge lumps or a massive outcrop, it often is volcanic in origin. Volcanic rock includes granite, but mostly obsidian is less often found, is it requires the lava to cool very quickly. Obsidian is basically glass, a shiny brittle mineral, but it is very useful.”

John was astounded at how he could come out with this geological description from his memory, just like that. Fresno’s claim that bits fell off every year made it sound like sedimentary rock, so the cliff was probably a sheer face down to the sea, making it safe for ships to come close to the shore, for there would be no sharp rocks near the cliffs.

He hoped he was not wrong.

Thinking back to Fresno’s description of the big ship, he wondered how close it was sailed to the shore. The High Point cliff face had given him an idea; provided he could make proper use of one of the bows they had seized. He needed to practice with these bows, to find if they were consistent in the distance they could fire. That was a task for tomorrow.

He noticed that the tribe seemed to have grown, with more and more adults that he did not recognise, in the cave community. He asked Numa if he was missing something.

She smiled sweetly as she answered, “John, every time we make contact with another tribe, one or two people, sometimes a family, find their way back to us, because they like what they hear about the tribe. When they appear, they are referred to me, and I examine them for their intentions and willingness to fit in. Most of them are perfect for us, but a few had to be shown what we required of them, for them to be acceptable. I only turned away one couple. They seemed to think that their talents merited a fast track to senior positions. I told them their opinion did not fit with our policy of equality, and told them they could come back again if they changed their approach to tribal life. I suspect they did not leave their last tribe willingly!”

“My wife, you have done splendidly. My choice of you as Chief has been vindicated by that decision alone. The tribe is in good hands.”

Numa scowled a little. “Does that mean you will be away from the tribe more often? Perhaps visiting your new wife at the Farfarers?”

John was careful in his reply.

“I will indeed be out and about more, but not just to the Farfarers – though I need to visit them to check on progress in defences. No, I also want to visit other tribes for discussions about the future. I don’t want them to think they should have to visit this tribe.

I also want to do what I can for the fishing village, so I need to practice with the long bows we captured. I have an idea how I might use one, but my idea may not be practical. I have to test the capabilities of the bows before I take the idea further. Not being Chief gives me more time to think, my love.”

That appeared to satisfy Numa.

The morning brought John to thinking about the longbows. He had not used a longbow in many years, according to what he could recall. He thought it was at a shoot organised by a re-enactment group, so that would be before he entered the armed forces. He was bound to be rusty, so he needed opportunities to bring his ability back to the minimal level for fighting with it. He found where the bows and arrows had been laid, and handled them one at a time. The balance appeared to be the same for all the bows, and the arrows to his judgement looked straight and true. What sort of pull strength was required for the bows, his test would tell him, but he expected it would not be enough for what he envisaged them being used for.

He set up half a dozen logs in the grass after sharpening the ends to stick them in the ground. He used a short log as a vertical hammer. The task was slower than he hoped, but eventually the posts were all in and secure.

After warning the tribe’s guards that he would be firing arrows at these logs from higher up, he climbed round to where he had a route to the clifftop above the cave. This placed him around thirty feet higher than the logs. Now the question was, could he reach them with an arrow?

John drew the first of the bows, to see how much pull was required, and found it fairly easy. That disappointed him, for the energy going into the bow would be insufficient for his plan. He tried firing an arrow at the nearest standing log. It landed ten feet short, so he tried a higher angle of release, and the arrow fell just beyond the target.

He mumbled as he worked out what he was achieving, and hoped at least one of the bows was much stronger. He tried them all, one after the other, marking each result with an arrow on the ground beside him. Once he had fired an arrow from all of them, he knew which had the strongest pull strength, so selected that one for further testing.

He aimed for the furthest-away log, and adjusted his angle of release to find the optimum for distance. He was not happy by his mental calculations. Even if the cliff was 150 feet high, the distance achievable with the strongest bow was not really enough to be sure of an arrow reaching the ship as it passed. Making it a fire arrow probably would reduce the distance again.

That idea for attacking the big ship was a non-starter, he concluded; and making a ballista was too complicated to design and make. It would take weeks at least, and a lot of testing to make it work effectively.

He had no way to attack the big ship at sea, and it was almost impossible to imagine it landing an army to search the area without some specific target. He was back to square one with his ideas.

His demeanour at lunchtime was palpable, and people noticed as he sat and glowered at his food.

Numa came to him to demand, “John, what is wrong with you? You have a sour face and are ignoring everyone at the meal. This is not like you, my love.”

He looked into her eyes and admitted, “Sorry, love. I had not realised it was so obvious. I was trying to work out a way to attack the big ship with these invaders and the slaves they are holding, but my best effort is not going to work; it is not practical after all, so I am unhappy. Tell everybody that no-one has done or said anything wrong, just me. I apologise for my behaviour.”

Numa bent over and kissed him on the cheek. “Cheer up, John. A solution will come to you; it always does.”

“I hope so, Numa. I hate it when I am stuck with nothing I can do to help.”

“Then after you have eaten, get off your butt and go hunting for some meat for the tribe. That will be more positive than moaning about what can’t be done.”

Taking her advice to heart, he decided he would take one of the lower-powered bows and try hunting game with that weapon. He refused assistance with gutting the game later, saying, “I am not good company just now. Leave me to cope with such matters by myself; it may help me.”

The next couple of hours saw his spirits rise. He found a group of aurochs and managed to kill one with two arrows. One struck nothing fatal, so he had to try again, before the animal could escape.

Faced with such a huge carcase, he set to with his knife, disembowelled it, then slowly cut it up into manageable sections that he could drag into the trees. There, he used his bowstring over a branch to hoist a joint into a tree; unfastened the string, then walked back to start on the next section of meat.

He found himself cursing his lack of help, especially when scavengers started to skulk around the carcase. He killed the first two dingo-like scavengers, removed his arrows, and left these beasts as food for other scavengers.

In this way he managed to get his meat hoisted into the branches, hopefully high enough to be away from the scavengers, and hurried back to the cave to ask, shamefacedly, for assistance. With a couple of young men and a collapsed travois, he rushed back to the site, where most of the meat was still untouched, but one piece had been reached by a pair of dog scavengers and was not worth collecting, so he left it with the beasts while he and his men gathered in the rest.

Arriving back at the clearing much later, they were presented with a scene of women trying to drag a protesting ram towards the temporary sheep pen. The ram was festooned with metal items weighing it down, and it didn’t want to move in that bedraggled condition.

John was amazed that the women had even managed to get it out of the pit, then he saw an exhausted Tempo lying beside the pit after fighting with the animal, trying to persuade it out of the pit. The cargo would not have helped a bit!

John rushed to assist with the ram, and forced it to the pen, where he got the ladies to hold it still when he unfastened the belt that held everything to it. He let the things drop while he made sure the ram was still secure, then asked someone to open the pen entrance, so they could push the ram through.

Curiously, as it reached the pen, it calmed, then when it was shown the gateway, it happily bolted inside. It must have smelled the female sheep, and that must have pleased it.

Quickly the brushwood gate was pushed closed and staked into position again. John heaved a sigh of relief, and looked over the equipment it had brought, then remembered the exhausted Tempo. He went and found him, and thanked him for his efforts with the ram.

“A ram is much more energetic than a ewe, Tempo, so I am astonished that you got it out by yourself. Well done, man!”

Tempo admitted, “I just thought it was a sheep with horns, so I jumped in beside it to give it a help up. The beast was frantic, trying to jump out by itself, but with the load it was carrying, it was impossible. I decided that leaving it carrying this burden would make it more manageable, so left it on until I could push the beast up to the lip. Once it got its hoofs on the grass, this gave it purchase and made it easier to get out. Fortunately several of the girls had arrived by then, and they held it when it clambered out. That then gave me a chance to take off the equipment and dump it on the grass. The girls had a good grip of the animal, so I was glad to leave it to them to persuade it further up the slope. It had taken me all my time to get out and collapse on the grass, so I was still exhausted. Your appearance saved me having to make another effort with the beast.”

“Well done anyway, Tempo. It was a job well done, and I thank you.”

John now examined the cargo it had brought.

The largest item was a long tube, and in seconds he recognised it as a bazooka; a modern one, the one-man version. Along with it were several rocket charges to fit the weapon. That seemed to be all, but it was certainly a load and a half for the ram. That animal was an adult beast, too.

Good grief, he thought. “What do they imagine George was going to face? This weapon could almost wipe out a whole village with one round!

There was no way such a weapon was acceptable in a stone-age society. Why, this was a weapon only a god could have, in their vivid imaginations; but perhaps that was the intention: frighten the natives into submission. No, John could see no use for such a frightful device in the society that he would like to see.

Except ... he thought back to his thoughts of fire arrows against the big ship. The bows did not have enough power to reach a passing ship from High Point, but that may not be the case with the bazooka or rocket launcher. If there was a manual along with this device, it could tell him what the range of a rocket fired from it would be. Again, firing from a high position would give it greater accurate range.

He searched the bazooka for the manual, without success; then he thought to take off the end cap and look inside the launch tube. The manual, for the LAW-80, was pushed inside, but not difficult to extract. Skimming through the index, he focussed on Range, and turning to that page, found that it could be ranged from 10 metres to 500 metres. However, the accurate range was stated to be only 150 metres in normal circumstances; or whatever passed for normal in the manufacturers’ world.

A snippet of memory popped into his head, about it being used in the Falklands against fire bases in the mountains, instead of against tanks. The Falklands? - a blank spot again.

He switched his thoughts to High Point. He would have to get there to make his own judgement about whether this weapon would reach. It would depend on how close to land they sailed or rowed their ship.

George, whoever he was originally, must have been a military man, if they expected him to be proficient with this rocket launcher. Perhaps if he hadn’t been killed on arrival, he might have been amenable to conversion to John’s point of view, but that question was academic: the man was dead and gone.

Putting down the LAW, he reckoned he would have to shift it and it’s rockets to a better spot, but not until after his evening meal had refreshed him. At the meal, he discovered that Tarka had returned, quite rapidly, John thought. He asked him about it.

“At each tribe, it was more a matter of fixing their attendance at the meeting place. I told them it was the day after tomorrow, so they all have time to get there; all except your fisher tribe, I gather. They are out at sea for a few days, I am told.”

“That is so, Tarka, so they won’t be there at the meeting. I’ll have to speak for them, and do my best to represent their attitude.”

“I am sure you will do your best, Chief John. You try to be responsible for your tribes’ future health.”

“I do what I can, Tarka. I will make sure I am present for the meeting, if you tell me the location, as I have to go to a spot near the fishing village tomorrow to check out something.”

Tarka explained where the clearing was in relation to the fishing village, and John was quickly ‘au fait’ with that and prepared to find his way there.

Numa had overheard his reference to going off tomorrow, and objected.

“Husband, we have seen very little of you in the last few days. Can you not spend more time with your family?”

John’s face fell. “I am terribly sorry, my love, but if I am to have any chance of stopping that big ship from any more predation, I have to work it if that new weapon will help me or not. I only have tomorrow to work on that, then the day after I have to be at the meeting of the tribes; a vital meeting for us all. This one of the drawbacks of Chiefdom, having to do things you don’t particularly want to do. The timings are part of my duty, and I can’t alter them without causing other problems.”

That night John did his best to let his wives know that he loved them all, and wanted the best for them, so that they had to let him do what was required to achieve that end. They allowed him to go on his errand, but reluctantly.

John loaded himself down with his crossbow, a longbow, and a one-man travois carrying the quiver of arrows, rocket launcher tube and two rockets, should he need to do a live firing. He hoped not.

It was a long trip loaded and pulling the rest of his load, so he was grateful for the packed meal stashed inside the travois: A leather bag with stew, instructions from a wife on how to heat it, positioning it before opening and dropping in a very hot stone from a fire. There was also a bag of nuts and dried fruit. Between both lots of eats, he should survive the day trip. Fresno was reluctant to go to High Point before the day that the fires were needed, and that would be some time yet, he thought, so refused the offer. He did beg John to cut some wood branches and leave them on High Point to dry out some before they were later used for the signal fires.