Isle of Woman (Geodyssey) Page 8

  “I should be paddling,” Ember said. “I haven’t done my share.”

  There was a general laugh among the paddlers. “Go back to sleep,” one woman told her. “You did more than any of us, driving off the enemy with fire, and you almost drowned. It is our turn now.”

  Ember realized that the woman was right. Ember would not be much use on the paddle; her arms were still sore with fatigue, and her body was not much better. She did need to get more rest.

  She returned to her place in the cabin, lay down, took Scorch’s hand in one of hers and Crystal’s in the other, and fell promptly back to sleep.

  Dawn woke her next. Sunlight was slanting through the crevices in the cabin. Crystal was up and playing with other children, and had evidently been fed. There was something about this forced closeness of the tribe that Ember realized she liked; folk who hadn’t interacted much before were doing so now, and folk were helping folk at every turn. They all knew this was no easy voyage they had embarked on, and that there was a more than reasonable prospect for death at sea for them all. If they were ever going to get along well with each other, and do each other good, this was the time. It made for an excellent sense of community.

  Ember felt better, if not good. That last session in the sea had taken much out of her, perhaps because it had started her on the path to acquiescence of death. She still wasn’t quite used to the notion that she was after all alive. And still not certain that life for her or any of them was fated. It was also strange living on the raft like this. Her queasiness of stomach had eased, but she saw several others looking distinctly uncertain, and every so often one would go to the edge and vomit into the water.

  Scorch was still asleep, and the fire was low. There was her job. Ember added fuel to it, carefully, so that it was in no danger of dying out, without wasting wood. But when she was able, she would take her turns with the paddle. Because she wanted to reach land again as much as anyone did. If it could be done.

  The shifts with the paddles kept changing, and so did those with the sleepers. The pallets were constantly being vacated and reoccupied, because there were not enough for everyone at once. But there was another kind of shift, she realized: couples were going into a curtained-off corner of the cabin for a time. For sex, which was usually private. If those sleeping nearest that section heard anything, they pretended not to. Ember realized that this was best.

  A senior entered the cabin. “Ah, you are awake,” she said to Ember. “Are you recovered?”

  “I am ready to take my turn paddling,” Ember said.

  The woman smiled. “Not yet, I think. You remain weak from yesterday. When you are strong enough for that"—she nodded meaningfully at the private corner—"then, perhaps, the paddle. But if you are able to serve food for those who are hungry, now—”

  “That I can more readily do,” Ember said, relieved.

  “Not much, for each,” the woman cautioned.

  “I understand.” All too well.

  Then a man brought in a fair-sized fish. He had evidently speared it, using a tethered spear. “There’s a school,” he said, pleased. He set the fish down by the fire, and went out to try for another.

  Ember fetched a stone knife, about to set to work on the fish, but one of the older girl children came in. “I can do that,” she said. “I know how.”

  Perhaps she did. Ember gave her the knife, and instead unpacked some of the dried fruit. But she kept an eye out, and when the girl faltered, she guided her. This was the way the young learned. When the fish was ready, they put it over the low fire for cooking.

  People came in, attracted by the smell, and Ember and the girl served them fruit, and after awhile, fish.

  Scorch woke. Knowing his need, Ember went to help him get to his feet. She steadied him as he walked out to the privy rail, and as he squatted. Then she helped him walk back. He was recovering, but she felt his weakness. Her stiffness was wearing off with activity, but she had merely gotten fatigued. He had lost blood, and that would take more time. She was so glad he was recovering!

  As they re-entered the cabin, she saw his look fix for a moment on the curtained corner. She made a mental note. And later in the day, when that alcove was free, she took his hand and glanced meaningfully in that direction. “They won’t let me row until . . .” she murmured, leaving out a great deal more than she spoke.

  He nodded. Ember looked at the girl who had helped her in the morning, who was now working on her third fish of the day. “Call me if you need me,” she said. The girl nodded, pleased to be left in charge of the fire for awhile.

  Ember steadied him again as they went to the corner. Then, inside, she whispered in his ear. “Do you remember our first time?”

  He smiled, remembering. “But you—I would not want to hurt you, after yesterday.” He meant more than her fatigue.

  “You could not hurt me, if you wished to, today,” she replied. She meant more than his weakness.

  So she took him through it, this time not because he was hesitant, but because he was weak. She lay beside him, holding him close, facilitating it for him in the ways women knew, and in due course he completed it. It was perhaps just as well that he lacked real force, because she had been bruised internally, however satisfying the reason. She kissed him ardently, because this time was as important to her as the first had been, in its different way. Because it meant he had truly forgiven her for being raped. Intellectually he knew it was not her fault, but she had feared that his penis would have a different idea, showing how his primitive heart felt. Now she knew it was all right. Which was of course much of the reason he had wanted to do it now: to show her that. The rowing was merely a pretext, for them both, to do what otherwise might better have waited. He was a good and kind man.

  If only she could as readily abolish that other secret longing she had for one she could never have mated with. Scorch did not deserve to have less than her whole heart. But try as she did, she could never quite eliminate that secret.

  The curtain parted. “There you are!” Crystal said. “Doing it again.”

  “Doing it again,” Ember agreed. “Because we love each other.” Children in a family learned by observation, as was proper. Then she gently disengaged, helped Scorch don his jacket and breechclout, and got back into her skirt.

  Scorch reached out and tousled his daughter’s hair. “One day, when you are big, a man will come for you,” he said. “And you will give him the same pleasure your mother gives me.”

  “Of course,” Crystal agreed matter-of-factly.

  Thereafter Ember did take her turn on the paddle, and the effort worked out the last of yesterday’s fatigue and overwrote it with today’s fatigue. It was good.

  The voyage continued, the first day passing into the second. Ember spent as much time inside tending the fire as she could, because the sight of the endless sea outside still frightened her. They were steering by the sun, going east, the way the lost and found man had said the land was. But he had been blown by a storm, then come back on devious currents, and gotten lost and incoherent before being rescued; how could he be sure of the direction? He said he was sure, and others chose to believe him, but Ember’s doubt would not be quieted. So she avoided it, as much as she could. She took her paddle turns at night, once she was sure Scorch did not mind, so that she could not see the vastness of the sea. The vastness of the night sky was all right; she had always enjoyed that.

  The second day moved into the third. Still no land, increasing her tension though it was really too soon for it. The sky clouded over and a light rain fell. That helped, because they were able to catch more fresh water in broad shells, replenishing their supply. The occasional fish stretched their food.

  When the clouds cleared, another problem developed. Ember and several other women set to work fashioning a net from leftover pieces of cord to shade folk from the burning sun. There were no trees here, and the cabin didn’t help those working elsewhere on the raft. They expanded the net, lacing it with clot
h and small lengths of bamboo from disassembled mats to make it opaque, and it helped—only to have a wind spring up and try to blow it away. They had to tie it to the edges of the raft. But then it tended to interfere with the arm motions of the paddlers. Paddling was fatiguing enough without such hindrance. They tried to prop up the center with a bamboo pole, but it wouldn’t stay in place. Ember finally had to kneel before the center paddler and hold the net just clear of him. But it grew hot under the net, and she had to remove her jacket so she could sweat freely. Then she became aware of the man’s gaze, fixed on her breasts, which were almost under his nose. There really wasn’t anywhere else for him to look, but it made her feel awkward, because normally a woman did not put her breasts that close to a man unless she wanted him to touch them. It was natural for a woman to be bare above the waist in the heat of the day, but the present fullness of her breasts did attract some attention. She knew he was getting a reaction, which perhaps distracted him from his paddling. But neither of them was free to change the situation, or even to acknowledge it. So she found the conditions of the large raft awkward in more respects than she cared to state.

  On the fourth day Ember and Crystal took a turn fishing. They went out on one of the smaller rafts, with a senior woman. The day was calm and they were not going far out, so it seemed safe. It seemed that the crowded folk got along better if each could be given some time away from the main mass, and the small rafts were ideal for this. There were six of the little rafts, two to each large raft, and each would hold up to four people. Or in this case, two adults and three children. The other two children were rambunctious boys who normally kept their mother so jealously busy that it was difficult for her to have time for their father. So they were being given the treat of a special fishing trip, while their parents went to the private alcove.

  Ember and the woman paddled on either side, while the three children sat in the center and peered eagerly around. To them it was an adventure, going out alone; they had already become jaded by the dullness of the main raft. Progress was slow, because neither Ember nor the older woman had much strength or energy; both had been kept busy throughout the voyage. There had always been something else that needed doing. If it wasn’t paddling or preparing food or seeing to a man, it was trying to find a place to sleep, or waiting to use the excretion rail, or trying to clean off salty sweat with salty seawater. Or working with the shade net, which Ember now preferred to avoid. So it was good to get even this far away, for awhile.

  “Big fish!” Crystal exclaimed, peering down into the water. She lay prone, with her head over the edge, so she could see better. The boys hastened to follow her example.

  Ember looked, and saw it. Indeed it was big—too big to catch with their little net. But maybe a man could spear it from one of the big rafts. She waved, trying to attract attention: “Big fish!” she called, and pointed.

  But the fish, evidently warned, turned and moved rapidly away. Too bad; it could have fed a number of people.

  They stopped paddling when far enough out, and prepared the fishing net. It was finely woven from fibers normally used for rope, and indeed at the edges it twined into stout cords. The technique was to lower it gently into the water, spread it out, and then abruptly haul it up when a suitable fish crossed over it. This required patience, because the fish were wary of anything new or strange. But in time they would come, especially if some bits of food were set floating on the water above it.

  But just as the fish were becoming curious, the boys, bored, started splashing the water. Ember gritted her teeth, realizing that sharp words would not help the situation; the children needed their distractions too. She caught the eye of the senior woman, who evidently agreed. Fishing was merely the pretext; the point was to get away from the temper of the main rafts.

  Ember looked around. Now all three large rafts were visible, like three villages on a plain. Men were working on the third, trying to redo the cords binding it together, so that it would be stronger. Because it was incomplete, lacking the larger, firmer outer pole on the fourth side, it tended to lose cohesion. Fortunately it had not been subjected to any bad stress. The next day should bring them to land, if their course was right. If the fisherman had spoken truly. If there were no storm.

  “Big fish!” Crystal cried again, pointing. Her sharp little eyes were often the first to spy things. In that, she took after Ember, who would have been more alert for fish had she not had to worry about so much else.

  It turned out to be a huge fish—larger than the little raft. A thrill of nervousness made Ember grip the edge of the raft hard. If such a fish were to turn on them—

  “Perhaps we have been out long enough,” the senior woman murmured.

  “But we haven’t caught any fish!” one of the boys protested.

  “That’s because you scared the little ones away!” Crystal said, with some justice.

  “Did not!” the boy retorted.

  “Did too!”

  “It was your ugly face did it!” the other boy said, and both laughed.

  Upset, Crystal turned to Ember, but the senior woman interceded. “See if you can scare the big fish away, so it doesn’t eat us.” That got all three children involved in the new project.

  They returned to the big raft. The huge fish moved elsewhere. Ember was relieved. She doubted that it would be smart to tackle that one, even from the main raft. The open sea had creatures never seen by the shallow shore. Probably that was just as well.

  On the fifth day there was still no sight of land. The mood of the people was tightening. All the adults and some of the children knew that it was time, and that their supplies were dwindling. They could stretch out their stored food another day, perhaps two, if they caught more fish. But their bags of water were also depleted, and the salt water was no good. For that they needed rain.

  The turns at paddling became shorter, because the paddling was getting faster, verging on frantic, and people were wearing themselves out. No one spoke of it, lest the smaller children catch on, but they were getting seriously worried. They could never make it back, even if there were not a hostile force on their island. They had gambled by heading straight out into the sea to an unseen land. If they found no land, they would die adrift on the sea. But maybe it was just ahead, waiting to be discovered. If they just moved a little faster . . .

  A haze appeared, thickening into a cloud. Maybe there would be rain! They assembled their shells and water bags, ready to catch any that came. If only it did come, instead of flirting with them before drifting elsewhere, as other clouds had done. Once they had even seen a cloud raining on the horizon, but all they got was a faintly cool outflow of air, hardly even a breeze, and no fresh water.

  But this time it was serious. The cloud expanded and turned dark. In fact it became stormy, being the edge of a larger cloud just now coming into sight. They were going to get too much rain!

  They prepared two ways. Women and larger children sat out with their shell bowls and bags, to catch the water, while the smaller children retreated to the cabin and found good handholds on the bamboo. The men set about securing everything they could, especially the precious paddles. Then they, too, searched out good handholds, knowing that anyone who got swept off the rafts would be forever lost.

  The storm closed rapidly on them. The wind struck first, sending the remaining children scurrying for the cabin. It intensified, making the hair of the women fly straight out from their heads. “Get in!” Ember cried. “This is too much for us!” But it was also too strong for them to dare let go.

  The moment there was a lull, they got up and scrambled for the cabin. It was full. The next gust of wind was tearing across the sea, making the water disappear under the froth of decapitated waves. Ember caught hold of the edge of the cabin, and other women grabbed on beside her. Then the wind shoved them all against the wall. Someone screamed as she lost her hold. The scream faded behind. Ember thought she heard a splash.

  The wind caught the cabin. The raf
t lifted, seeming about to fly out of the water. Children screamed. Then it settled, wallowing in a forming valley. Ember stared out over the sea, and saw a range of waves coming at her, each eager to take its shot at the raft. But as the first wave approached, the raft floated up its steepening slope, up and up, until it seemed about to topple over on its back like a dead turtle. There were more screams. Frothy water spilled from the mountain peak and flowed across the deck, bubbling. It coursed into the cabin. The screams intensified. One of them was Crystal; Ember knew her daughter’s voice even amidst the cacophony. Her heart ached to go to the child, but she knew it would be folly to try.

  The raft crested the water mountain and plunged down the opposite slope. Now they had to do it all over again! But Ember realized that they had seen the worst of it, because all that was to come was more mountains like the first, and they had handled that one. The storm could not sink them! Of course she had known that bamboo would never sink, but now her belief was strengthening.

  The rain came down. It pelted them, the drops stinging where they struck bare skin. Ember thought of opening her mouth to get a drink, but she didn’t dare, for fear the wind would blow down inside her and hollow her out like a gutted fish. All she could do was hang on.

  The rain became sheets of water, cold and cutting. Ember ducked her head and jammed her eyes closed. Her hands felt numb, but they were locked in place; she knew she would die if she ever let go. She lost orientation; she seemed to be in the center of a tumbling stream, with all the raft and sea whirling around her.

  How long it lasted she did not know. It seemed forever, but she had experienced such storms on land, and knew that their fury was usually soon spent. She knew she had been through worse storms—but then she had had the security of firm ground and trees and rocks, rather than insecure water. What might be moderate on land had been a terror at sea.

  She found herself part of a small pile of women. She tried to let go of the pole, but her fingers would not unclamp. She had to shove one arm forward, breaking the grip, then do the same with the other. She stood on the deck, brought one hand to her face, and used her mouth to unkink the hooked fingers. Then she looked into the cabin.