The boy woke first.

He was face down on a sandy shore, the sun warmed him and a breeze caressed his bare body. For a moment he drowsed in comfort, but memory returned as to how he had got there. He lifted his head with a start and cried "Pater!"

He did not have to look far. A thin line was knotted about his wrist and it stretched a few yards to where the other end was tied about his father's wrist also. His father had lashed them together as they clung to bits of wreckage, trying only to keep their heads above the waves. He crawled over, fearing the worst.

But the man stirred at the sound of his son's voice. He sat up and took the boy in a fierce bear hug.

"Jan!" he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "Thank God you're alive! I don't know if I could have borne losing you."

They embraced for a while, holding each other against the memory of the harrowing night when their ship had gone down and the several days before that when the vessel had been caught in an unnatural storm.

"I've been at sea forty years," the Captain had shouted as the ship began breaking up the night before. "I've never seen such a storm. We'll all be in Davy Jones' locker soon."

It was all a blur after that, a struggle to keep the lifeboat upright that ended in failure as a wave took it broadside and they capsized, followed by endless, exhausting hours in the water, clinging to wreckage as the storm raged.

"It seems our Dear Lord has taken pity on us and tossed out a shovel full of sand for us to come to rest upon," the man said. "Let us see if anyone else survived the storm, or if this island is inhabited."

"If other people live here, they will see our nakedness," Jan observed as he stood.

"Adam and Eve were naked in the Garden," the man said. "There was no shame in them until they ate the forbidden fruit. Likewise we should not be ashamed. The Lord has seen fit to save our lives, let's not pester Him for a suit of clothes besides." He tousled the boy's hair, a lighter shade of blond than his own, then took a knee and began to untie the knot that held the line around the boy's wrist.

"As surely as my name is Michael, we'll not die on this island," he said. "We've got our lives and our hands and our minds. Let's use the gifts the Lord has given us so we can get out of this situation." He finished untying the knot. "See, He's already given us two spans of sturdy cord."

Father and son explored the island. It was small and they were able to make a full circuit of the shoreline by mid-day. They found no other survivors but also no corpses. They did find a good deal of wreckage from the ship, including some stores of food that were not spoiled with salt water.

They climbed the rise that made up the middle of the island and found several ponds with hard, rocky bottoms. The pools were full to overflowing from the recent storm.

"The Lord has provided us with fresh water to drink," Michael said. "I have faith He means for us to survive."

Climbing the last rise, at the most exposed tip of the island, they saw a crude hut, made from piled stones. Driftwoodand sun-bleached palm fronds formed its roof.

"Pater, look!" Jan shouted, "There must be people here after all!" The boy raced ahead, his nakedness forgotten.

Before Michael could catch up to his son, the boy had stepped into the opening that faced away from the sea.

"I don't think anyone lives here," the boy said. "But there's a funny picture on the wall."

There was a mosaic on the interior of the wall that backed up to the sea. It was worked in bits of seashell and colored pebbles to form a strange and unsettling image. It was as if the torso and arms of a man had been grafted onto the body of an octopus, both a deep blue in color. The creature had a head that seemed more reptilian than human and a huge maw filled with sharp teeth. Its arms and shoulders were powerfully muscled and ended in clawed hands that seemed best suited for rending and tearing.

"Come out of this place at once!" Michael hissed.

"But Pater, it has three walls and a roof," Jan said. "The Lord has given us a place to rest at night."

"No! This is a test!" Michael said. "This is a shrine to some heathen sea demon."

Later, near dark, Michael and Jan sat under the shelter of some sailcloth they had salvaged from the wreckage. They gnawed on hard-tack.

"Why did you pee on the picture?" Jan asked.

"For the same reason we're burning some of the roof for firewood tonight." Michael said.

"We could be sleeping up there right now, Pater."

"We mustn't! Our Lord has gifted us with a chance at survival, and put all the materials we need at hand. But He also tests us. We must refuse any gifts from the Enemy."

"But the firewood..."

"Is burning! We're destroying that evil shrine, bit by bit."

"Yes Pater."

The next day, Michael took stock of all the wreckage they could gather, all the forage the small island could provide, and arrived at a plan he could share with Jan.

"By my reckoning, we have food enough to keep we two alive for a month," Michael said. "We could stretch that to two, but I believe our best chance is to escape, instead of waiting for rescue."

"Escape?" Jan said.

"That unnatural storm blew us far off-course, but if we go North or South from here, we're sure to make landfall on either Europe or Africa. The winds here seem to point North, so we'll try for Europe."

"I know the French language," the boy said.

"As well you should! Let us hope your lessons can help us when we arrive."

They fell into a routine where Michael would spend the days fastening wreckage together in whatever way he could, mostly by lashing with rope. Jan spent his days foraging about the island, looking for anything that could supplement their meager store of food. After the first few days, the boy was successful more often than not, adding fresh fruit or seaweed to their diet.

A few weeks later, the raft was completed. It was primitive, but it was the best Michael could do with the materials and tools he had to hand. They stowed their meager supplies on board and made their escape.

The time had been kind to Jan, the boy glowed with an all-over tan. His already blond hair was sun-bleached to make him a perfect tow-head. Michael had adopted a toga-like garment, made from spare sailcloth they had salvaged. He excused himself from his son's need of modesty, reasoning that the cuts needed to make a smaller garment for the boy would ruin the utility of the cloth as a sail.

The promontory on which the heathen shrine had been built was the last thing to drop below the horizon as they sailed North, running before the wind. No sooner did it disappear from view than the water surrounding their raft began to churn and roil. Their forward motion stopped abruptly, throwing father and son forward and onto their faces on the primitive deck.

When they looked up the sea demon from the mosaic in the shrine was clambering onto their boat.

"God save us!" Michael cried, swinging at the creature's head with a salvaged oar. The demon easily fended off the blow. With two of its tentacles it tripped the him, and soon he was helpless in a headlock, his face turning purple.

"No!" shrieked Jan. The boy grabbed at the creature's arms where it was choking his father. "Please, I beg you, don't kill him!"

The creature looked at the boy and spoke, but Jan heard the words in his mind, not with his ears.

"You, little one, you cleansed my shrine, you brought offerings. You I will spare. This one, the bigger one, he defiled my shrine. His life is forfeit."

"Spare his life!" Jan sobbed. "He didn't understand it was your island!"

"You learned that very quickly, little one, your offerings pleased me."

"I'll do anything to save him," the boy said. "He is mijn pater and I love him!"

"Anything?" the creature mused. "Take care you know what you offer, little one."

"Only let him live," the boy pleaded.

The creature relaxed its grip and Michael drew a shuddering breath. Some of the alarming purple color faded from his face.

"Watch now, defiler, and see what your son does to secure your worthless life," the creature hissed aloud. It's huge maw had trouble forming the words, but the meaning was clear.

Michael nodded mutely.

Without warning several tentacles wrapped around Jan's arms and legs. They bore the boy to the rough deck with irresistible strength, but took care not to injure him. They put him on his back with his legs spread and knees drawn up. Another tentacle emerged from the water and plunged into Jan's rectum.

The boy screamed.

"No!" Michael shouted, "Jan, you mustn't . . . Grrrk!" His words were cut off as the demon clamped it's grip around his throat again.

"Silence!" the creature hissed. "The boy has bought your life and I have accepted the offer. But I might accidentally choke the life out of you if you won't keep silent."

Michael nodded and his vision cleared as the creature loosened the pressure on his throat.

He watched his son, his beautiful innocent boy lying on the crude planks. The demon's tentacles had the boy splayed like a woman in birth and it had plunged one of them into him, buggering him with muscular thrusts.

But Jan did not cry out in pain or outrage. Instead he moaned in ecstasy, his toes curling and his body arching, pushing to have more of that tentacle inside of him. It touched something inside him and lit a fire of lust in his young body. One of his hands, unrestrained and uncoerced, found its way to his erection, and he began to stroke his young phallus in rhythm with the prodding of his prostate.

Michael was ashamed that seeing his son so abused inflamed his own lusts. He also put a hand to his erection and began stroking himself.

"So you finally choose to make an offering yourself," the creature hissed into Michael's ear. "Be grateful for your son's love for you."

Jan did cry out then, as a minutes long orgasm wracked his young body. On and on it went as the tentacle in his rectum pumped and throbbed and a pearly liquid spurted from the boy's penis, covering his chest and belly.

----------------

The boy came to his senses first.

He was face up on the deck, next to his father who seemed to be sleeping, his breathing slow and regular. Father and son were both wet with seawater, as if they had been washed clean of the evidence of their recent ordeal.

The raft moved through the water with unnatural speed.

The voice, the creature's voice, came into Jan's mind again. "You will soon become a father yourself," it said.

"I am but a boy," Jan answered without speaking aloud. "I have no nether beard and my balls have not dropped."

"My seed is in you. When you first mate with a female of your kind, she will bear your child. Our child."

"I offered anything," Jan said.

"The sea will call out to our son. Let him answer the call as soon as he is able. He need be no older than you are now. See to it he knows of me and who I am to him."

"I don't know your name," Jan said.

"Mortals call me Aegaeon. Teach our son to call me Pater."