The Voice of Fray Paco

Dear Reader,

I hope you have enjoyed the first seven chapters of Book One of my five book, auto-history story called The Saga of Fray Paco.

I also thought you might enjoy reading an email I recently sent to John Ball (which I've expanded for this post) about Fray Paco and some of the themes I am writing about. As always I look forward to your comments and emails.

The Saga of Fray Paco is not only the story of my clan. It is the history of the world as perceived by a rare white cockatoo capable of cognitive thoughts. Fray Paco existed ... I grew up with him. He was the oldest member of my clan and as such he had lived with many of its most fascinating members. I thought that Fray Paco as a central character in my 5 book series would be both unusual and would provide an inciteful glimpse to the 100+ years in which he lived.

The voice of Fray Paco is the voice of Humanity, imperfect, passionate and profoundly integral.
This species of cockatoo (now extinct) live to between 120 and 150 years. Imagine the things they see, hear and experience! For those of you who have had a close experience with their pets -- there is a real joy in seeing the intelligence and the ability to relate to a different species. While I have had many types of pets over the years ... a golden pig, a bat, numerous dogs and cats, a turtle, a horse, viper, and even a panther -- they pale in comparison with Fray Paco. He was totally unique ... and I dare say even brilliant. I have seen Fray Paco reason better and quicker than an adult, and he could out cuss anybody I've ever met, and in more languages.

The Janus –like existence of Don Pedro de Freitas, pirate and Don Pedro de Silva, merchant reflect the ethical, religious and moral ambiguity of man.

Every protagonist in the four books after Book One – The Catala -- has his or her own voice as well. They are all larger than life individuals with extraordinary virtues and outrageous vices. The one thing they all have in common is a brave heart and an abstract love for their fellow man. This soon turns into concrete kindness when those collective abstract humans in need somehow cross their paths.

Concerning the first few chapters I have presented dealing with the capture of Fray Paco some background and commentary is in order.

The Dutch East India Company was the first multinational in the world. It was the first attempt by a cabal of bankers and merchants to experiment with globalism. The Romans had done it successfully for centuries until the fall of Rome. Suleyman the Magnificent created a form of globalism that was multi-cultural, multi-religious and multi–racial. Life improved under his rule.
Not so with the Dutch East India Company. Its shareholders earned 700% in less than a year. Its army and navy were brutal in their attitude towards the people of Indonesia. Yet they attended church on Sundays with clean consciences. They did not consider the Indonesian Malays as human beings like themselves. Their customs and their brown-ness rendered them somewhat inferior in their eyes.

Pirates and Corsairs have always roamed the Malacca Straits (see map above) and the South China Seas since time immemorial. Li- Ma Hong the Chinese pirate not only attacked Manila but he and his fleet almost occupied the city.

Pirates in the Malacca Straits and in the South China Seas attack every year hundreds of yachts, ships and boats. Sometimes the vessels disappear without a trace. Nothing is ever heard from them again. The International Maritime Bureau (IMB) reports that in the Strait of Malacca (where attacks dropped from 79 in 2005 to 50 in 2006) accounted for 40% of piracy worldwide. The IMB reported in October 2007 that Indonesia continued to be the world's most pirate-struck region with 37 attacks since January 2007.

I hope you have enjoyed the story thus far. In the coming days and weeks I shall introduce some of the other characters in the five book saga.

The Catala - Chapter 7: I Will Survive and Thrive

He studied this strange and tall two legged creature, with hair the color of the sun and eyes as blue as his favorite flowers, the orchids which amassed on the branches of the Nangka tree. It made vocal sounds he was not familiar with. He did not like the creature, but his instincts warned him that he had power over him.

"Where am I? One moment I was carefree and happy, then the two-legged hairless hunter with the brown skin stalked me for many nights and days … and captured me. Now, this peculiar being, who does not kill for food or survival has me as his prisoner. It seems that I have no Life other than what that smelly being decides."

The rain forest had disappeared, and with it, the sounds he had loved and mastered. Vanished too, was the rain. There was only an endless blue below and above. His prison kept moving strangely – backwards, forwards, and sometimes sideways. They were taking him farther and farther away from his island in the sun. Flight was out of the question. These beings had fiery thunder, which shot at the sky, and objects, which tore out your heart and entrails.

All his senses spoke to him "Watch the pale and yellow creature. Be very careful. He will also be watching me. In the rain forest, eagles, hawks and falcons were always on the lookout for creatures like me. Eagles swooped down silently, grabbed you in their talons as long as daggers and ripped you apart while you were still alive.”

He listened attentively to the new sounds around him. Darkness was fast descending. Light was shining from up high, was that the Moon? The big boat made slurpy noises as the water struck it. Instead of the cackling of monkeys and the grunts of the Orangutan, the two-legged beings spoke long words and laughed. Loudly. It would not be too hard, after the thousand noises of the rain forest, which he had had to distinguish, to identify the voice with the being.

"I will concentrate on no other but the pale and yellow creature. He is the male who commands."

After what seemed an eternity, he decided the ship was as dangerous as the rain forest. No!!! More deadly, because he did not know his way about … Not yet.

"I learnt skills in the rain forest which helped me to survive. I led a rich life and thrived in the midst of my enemies. I will do the same in this New World.”

Yo Ho Ho And A Bottle Of Rum

Author's Note: The song Yo Ho Ho And a Bottle of Rum was written around the time that the events described in my story took place. The original words and song were written by Robert Lewis Stevenson 1881. More lyrics added by Young Ewing Allison 1891.

Given the events described in the sixth chapter of the Catala - I thought you would enjoy reading the words to this song. Who knows, you might even want to try singing it.

Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil be done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum

The mate was fixed by the bos’n’s pike
The bos’n’ brained with a marlin spike and
Cookey’s throat was marked belike It
Had been gripped by fingers ten and
There they lay all good dead men like
Break o’ day in a boozing ken __
Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum

Fifteen men of a whole ship’s list
Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum
Dead and be damned and the rest gone whist!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum

he skipper lay with his nob in gore where the
Scullion’s axe his cheek had shore
And the scullion he was stabbed times four and
There he lay and the soggy skies
Dripped all day in up-staring eyes at
Murk sunset and at foul sur-prise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum

Fifteen men of ‘em stiff and stark
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Ten of the crew had the murder mark
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum

‘Twas a cutlass swipe or and ounce of lead or a
Yawning hole in a battered head
and the scuppers glut with a yawning red and
There they lay aye damn my eyes
All lookouts clapped on par - a - dise all
Souls bound just con – tra – ri - wise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum

Fifteen men of ‘em good and true
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Every man Jack could ha’ sailed with old Pew
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum

here was chest on chest of Spanish gold with a
Ton of plate in the middle hold
And the cabins riot with stuff un told As
They lay there that had took the plum
With a sightless glare and their lips struck dumb
While we shared all by the rule of thumb
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum

Fifteen men of a dead man’s chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum

We wrapped ‘em all in a mains’l tight with
Twice ten turns of a hausers bight
And we heaved ‘em over and out of sight with a
Yo heave ho and fare you well
And a sullen plunge in a sullen swell
Ten fathoms deep on the road to hell
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum

The Catala - Chapter 6: You Bring Me Good Fortune

The rum, which the officers and men of the Zee had drunk, had been poisoned. Don Pedro, since coming on board the "Marte", had been dropping the lethal snake venom from a phial into the keg of rum. He had studied the sequence of the kegs of rum. His men had false bottoms on their tin cups. They were only pretending to drink and smack their lips. It was an illusion. They swallowed air. The venom came from the black mamba of Mozambique, a Portuguese colony in Southern Africa with a coastline on the Indian Ocean. The snake was also given the name of “Seven steps” for that was all a man could do before dying. Two fearsome black mambas were kept in iron cages down on the hold of the Marte.

"It is a humane way of killing them," declared Don Pedro. His men agreed." It is not honorable to abandon men on their ships without food or water."

"Witnesses could not be allowed to live. Surely, they would talk, once they were free and betray us to the authorities."

Don Pedro never failed to remind them. This was an excellent way of keeping his men in line, without the need of constant threats. Fear was an important concomitant to running a tight pirate ship like the Marte.

"In a few years we can all retire, build villas in Spain or Portugal, or perhaps the Philippines. We can live splendidly forever with new identities - like the grandees we deserve to be," Don Pedro promised.

Thirty-foot planks connected the Zee with the pirate ship Marte. Don Pedro walked across to his ship just in time to hear the first mate yell, "Hoist her up!" The catala (cockatoo) had quieted down.

"Hah! You HIJO DEL CONO, you're becoming hoarse." Then he had an afterthought." What if he or it never got its voice back?" He'd slice the bird and feed it to the baby crocodiles, which abounded in Southeast Asia. That would not happen. Today was his lucky day. The Zee was their biggest prize yet. None of his men were killed, maimed or wounded except for that fool Lupo who behaved stupidly, so that did not count.

The image of the sorcerer Kungku in the island of Nias, covered with the stone amulets of the catala flashed before his eyes.

The cage had landed without incident on the deck of the Marte. He knew what he was going to do. His ship would be renamed "the Catala" in honor of the cockatoo who had brought him "the good eye.”

Catala is an original name. Don Pedro de Freitas had made up his mind. “Enough of these hoity-toity Roman and Latin words. Catala it is, he said resolutely.

"Capitan! The Zee is listing badly" reported Renzo.

"Make sure the ship sinks completely into the sea, before we sail away."

These things were said and acted upon repeatedly. That’s how Don Pedro avoided capture, by being methodical and disciplined. So far, every ship they had attacked had sank without a trace.

"They vanished, like ghosts," whispered the sailors in taverns and bordellos throughout Asia. Lloyd’s of London began demanding high premiums in order to insure ships bound for the Orient, in particular, the Indian Ocean and the Straits of Malacca.

"Hey bastard!" Don Pedro addressed the cockatoo, standing close to the cage. "Yes! I mean you, son of a turtle's cloaca. I am going to re-christen this ship "The Catala." And you will fetch me and my men a big pot of gold, maybe even gems."

The Catala glared at Don Pedro contemptuously and shrieked to the heavens.

"Shut up!" he commanded. "Save your voice. You're here for the duration, just like all of us. Learn to talk. Show me what you can do ... or else I'll feed you to the tiburones (sharks)."

The catala had stopped its wailing but continued in its loathsome gaze. He wasn’t happy with what had befallen him.

I hate being in this prison made of bamboo. I will never get used to it. Never!!

Author's note: The oil painting shown above is a Still Life painted by Juriaen van Streeck (1632-1687/Dutch) It hangs at the Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow

The Catala - Chapter 5: Victory for the Pirates

Don Pedro placed the pistols on either side of Gevers neck and fired without hesitation. He upended Gevers headless body into the blue waters of the Indian Ocean, which was hurriedly turning a murky crimson, with pieces of humanity, masthead, shredded sails, and debris from the Zee.

He removed a large, immaculate linen handkerchief from his jacket and slowly and deliberately wiped the blood and slivers of Gevers brains off his face and neck. Don Pedro removed his soiled jacket and threw it overboard.

“Sangre del Diablo (Blood of the devil)!” His men were well trained but in pirate attacks anything could go wrong. Don Pedro and his crew loved the thrill of it.

“Por Dios, the cockatoo? I’ll cut any man’s collones and carajo off, if they blow this talking bird into a thousand pieces,” yelled Don Pedro.

The Lord Tung Lok was ready, willing and able to pay him – not only his weight, but also that of his crew in gold. If he brought him back a fine talking bird. This Cockatoo certainly deserved the appellation, he murmured.

“I don’t see Gevers! Where’s the Portuguese trader De Silva?” bellowed the captain of the Zee.

Another broadside hit the ship and the Zee was done for. The pirates whooped and howled, swinging adroitly on 20-foot ropes onto the deck of the Zee.

The cannon stifled any desire the cockatoo might have had in screeching. He was terrified. Thunder without rain! I’ve never experienced this.

“Senor Capitan!” Don Pedro’s first mate Rienzi roared. Don Pedro had removed his blue glass eye and covered the hole with the black eye patch, which he kept hidden in one of the pockets of his fine shirt with the embroidered cuffs. Rienzi gave him a white hat, which looked like a gypsy sombrero.

"OBRIGATO" said Don Pedro softly.

The captain of the Dutch vessel Zee had spotted him. “De Silva, what is the meaning of that eye patch? Why did that criminal call you Senor Capitan?” he asked, not wishing to hear the reply.

“Captain van de Veldt, I believe?” Allow me to introduce myself. I am Pedro de Freitas, not Don Pedro de Silva as I have led you and all your unfortunate companions to believe. Yes! I belong to the honorable profession of the Corsairs. You are, of course, our prisoners on my pirate ship."

"Round them up. Shoot anyone who resists, I don't want to say it again," the first mate Rienzi, ordered.

"Watch out for that cage!" Don Pedro warned his crew. Too late. One of them had distractedly stuck his forefinger inside. The cockatoo flew at him in a rage and lopped off an inch. Blood seemed to spray in all directions.

"It's my trigger finger, you hijo de puta! I'll kill you," the man with the cut finger screamed.

"No one can hurt the cockatoo. Did you all hear me? He's sacred. He's a talking bird. A Catala, the Arabs named them. He's worth more than any of us in gold. I'll cut off any man's cojones and carajo (penis) into little pieces and feed it back to him first,” declared Don Pedro with a deadly calm.

The crew paid attention and kept this in mind; Don Pedro never made empty threats.

The cockatoo flew into the bamboo saplings howling "EeeeeeKo! Rrrrrrra! AaaaaKo! Rrrrrrrra!"

"I never saw a white parrot before," said one of the young pirates, awed at the sight and the sound.

"That's not a parrot, that's a catala," declared an older pirate. Did you not hear our Capitan? At the orphanage in Macao, where I grew up, there was a watercolor drawing of one just like that ruffian."

The first mate Rienzi asked Don Pedro, "how are the men going to tie ropes and hoist the cage on to our pirate ship with the raging cockatoo inside without risking their carajos?"

"Simple, hombres, I saw the head hunters, the Naya, wrap thick matting around their hands when they hoisted the cage on to our launch. Find all the rags on this tub and cover your fingers with them."

The man with a piece of his forefinger torn off by the cockatoo's beak looked on with undisguised hostility at the proceedings. Don Pedro saw the hatred in Lupo's eyes.

"Look, Lupo, you're a pirate. You cannot afford to get careless. You got careless. You forgot that men, women and birds could cut off pieces of your body. Be happy he didn’t get at your huevos - testicles. Learn to shoot with your left hand. This ship is carrying large shipments of spices, coffee, tea and gold."

Don Pedro addressed the men. "Listen to me, all of you. I propose we give Lupo a larger share of the prize to compensate for the loss of his finger. But first he must realize it was his fault for allowing himself to become distracted."

"Carajo! I was careless," Lupo smiled a little bitter smile, "but that Hijo de la mala leche (son of bad and defective sperm) had better stay out of my way."

The lure of Lucre always worked, mused Don Pedro.

“Get Ching-Ching, the Chinese doctor, to look after your injured finger Lupo. He knows what salves and ointments to use to stave off infection,” ordered Rienzi.

The prize was all the booty, which was found on a ship to be of commercial value. Personal belongings were thrown into the sea. Even jewelry, which was too unique, was sometimes sacrificed as well. Only gems, preferably unset, were taken - unless they were diamonds, which were so hard they could be pried off their settings. Don Pedro was one of the best pirates and corsairs to be found in the Orient. He always divided the prize equally with his men. It was also intelligent to do so, for it kept dangerous ideas like mutiny from entering into the minds of his rascals.

Rienzi had gathered all the officers and men of the Zee. They were ordered to drink rum, which he was pouring out of their own kegs. The men from "The Marte," Don Pedro's lugger, were also being given the rum out of the same keg. The pirates made loud noises as they drank. "This is not bad rum," they said. Our compliments, Captain".

"What do you mean?" snapped Captain van de Veldt of the Dutch ship the "Zee." In her Imperial Queen Wilhelmina's colonies in the Dutch East Indies we eat and drink nothing but the finest, the rum obviously starting to get to him."

"Let's all drink to that," proposed Don Pedro.

The bamboo cage was being securely fastened with ropes and covered with netting which a pulley from the pirate’s ship could then hoist.

"Rrrrrra! Rrrrrra! EeeeeeeKo!" The cockatoo commenced its ungodly shrieks.

Some of the men covered their ears. "How long do we have to listen to that?"

"However long it takes," was Don Pedro’s reply.

The Catala - Chapter 4: The Attack

How contradictory we humans are, thought Don Pedro, yet how predictable. The Naya will not sacrifice a cockatoo to their god for fear of angering him, but they are not afraid of selling the bird. Without a doubt, the sorcerer Kung Ku with the cunning eyes had found a convenient escape clause.

"Fucking savages,” spat Gevers; still angry at having agreed to Tamango’s demands because of pressure from that woggy, garlic eating Portuguese rich filth, Don Pedro de Silva.

If my excellent memory serves me properly, Gevers is a lawyer by profession. The word Ignoramus fits him well. mused Don Pedro, interpreting his words and actions. "Savages indeed. Who’s to say? I might venture to opine that men like my crew, the Dutch, and the English East India Company as well as me are the true savages. Human beings like the Naya, with their concern for their tribe are destined to disappear. Cruel men like us will see to that. Still, I can’t stifle a sense of tragedy at our inhumanity in the name of Lucre.

On the vessel "Zee" the sailors, without exception, wanted to take a look at the cockatoo.

"Don't crowd around, be careful. This is a wild bird, not a house canary," warned Gevers.

A series of jangling shrieks, wails, and bellows emanated from the bamboo cage. “

I can’t take much more of this. Why are there so many strange looking two legged beings? Why do they stink like that? Their smell is going to make me sick.

In a few hours, if the trade winds were kind to them, they would be in Palembang, a festive port on the mainland of Sumatra. It is not as uncharted as Nias, but the women are pretty and available. What more could your men want? Liquor perhaps? There was always rum available at the traders' saloon, thought Don Pedro.

"Ship ahoy!!!" yelled the man on the lookout watchtower. The skull and crossbones flag is being hoisted. Pirates! Prepare to defend the ship."

The Dutch official Gevers, who not so long ago had been mulish on the beaches of Nias Island, suddenly became decisive and efficient.

“Open the storeroom where the ammunition is locked" Gevers barked out orders to Captain Van de Veldt of the" Zee."

The Captain commanded the ship "Zee", but the Dutch East India Company, owned all the ships, which meant that Major Gevers, as an official of the Company, superseded the Captain. The sailors labored under a form of indentured slavery. Most were Chinese with a sprinkling of Malay. Their villages, to pay off their families’ debts had sold them to the Dutch East India Company.

Sometimes, floods, earthquakes, pestilence, drought and typhoons exacted a terrible human toll. The able bodied men had to go to work for a pittance to support the village and ensure its survival. The system was rigged in favor of the Victors. Rare was the man who ever saw his homeland again. They served at sea until they died.

The Dutch usually took the Malays captive during raids and skirmishes. Like the Chinese, they sent most of the earnings of their toil under the mast to their families or villages back in Indonesia.

"Pirates! The Zee is under attack," yelled Major Gevers. He had never had to face this situation before.

"How many of you have experience in fighting pirates? Raise your hands!" Zero.

Don Pedro did not move. He remained stiff and wordless. Gevers saw him as he quickly made his rounds of the ”Zee".

"Are you armed?" he asked Don Pedro.

"Have you seen me with firearms?" he countered.

Gevers rolled up his eyes. Oh! One of those rich, snooty merchants who think money is all he needs to get by. "Here, take these pistols. Do you know how to use them at least?"

"I'm afraid not," coolly replied Don Pedro. "Could you show me?"

"The pirates are approaching starboard side," shouted the First Mate.

"I haven’t the time to teach you how to handle pistols. You may be rich, but you’ve been an inattentive dunderhead. You’ll have to fend for yourself,” declared Gevers, quickly thrusting two pistols into his hands.

He took them calmly. "Now what?"

"Uncock the clip and be ready to shoot if by chance the pirates try to board," ordered Gevers.

A cannon shot hit the "Zee" squarely broadside. Thick smoke. Burning Flesh. Mangled legs and limbs Fingers blown away by sharp slivers of wood. Moans and groans.