Daniel locked the reel in place and leaned over the gunwale to grab the sail. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shark reappear. It bumped the hull and we rocked slightly.
Dread gathered like bile at the base of my throat. The shark dove deeper into the water, its shape cloudy and then invisible in the depths. The sailfish’s eyes darted to and fro. Its gills fluttered and its scales tremored, spinning sunlight in a kaleidoscope. Even it seemed to have a fresh wave of fear roll over it.
It opened its eyes wide and ripped its sword from my hands in a violent lurch and dropped back into the water with a splash.
“Dammit,” Daniel muttered, reaching into the water to grab the sail.
“Daniel, don’t!” I said.
The shark pierced the water, mouth open, catching Daniel’s forearm in its teeth and shaking its head in a violent toss before dropping back into the water. Daniel screamed, falling forward toward the water.
Chapter 12
I caught the back of Daniel’s shirt, braced against the gunwale, and yanked him hard. We both stumbled backward and fell to the deck. Blood streamed from his arm, running along the cracks between the wood.
“Pearl! Grab the fabric!” I shouted.
I couldn’t see the wound past the blood. Skin and tendons hung from his arm. Had he severed an artery? Was the bone crushed?
Pearl ran to the deck cover and returned with the fabric I’d gotten in Harjo. I pressed it against his arm.
“It’s going to be okay,” I told him, my own blood pulsing in my ears. “We just need to stop the bleeding.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. His face was pale and his breath came in quick shallow bursts.
“Pearl, hold this here and apply pressure,” I said. She held the fabric against the wound as I took off my belt and hooked it around his upper arm, above his elbow. I cut a new hole in the leather with my knife, tightened the belt, and fastened it in place.
I leaned back on my heels to get a better look at him and laid my hand on his shoulder. “Breathe,” I said. “Try to stay calm.”
The sound of wood on rock filled the air, a rumble growing into a dull roar. The boat rocked abruptly, knocking me to my side.
Daniel’s eyes flew open. “Mountain. Mountain!” he said frantically.
I leapt up, ran to the stern, and looked over the gunwale. The tops of mountains glimmered just below the surface, pocked with crevices and peaks, small blooms of coral sprouting in the shadows. We were running aground on mountaintops.
I turned the tiller, yanking the rudder as far to the right as it would go, and felt the boat start to shift. A strong wind caught the sail and we surged forward. Beyond the bow, several peaks protruded a few feet above the water. We needed to turn farther to the right, and faster.
“The sail!” I called to Pearl, but she was already at the block, working the rope through. I joined her, pulling the rope, fumbling to release a knot.
Pearl’s hands shook and tears streamed down her face. “We’re going to be in the water,” she cried.
“We’re going to be okay,” I told her.
I dropped the knot, pulled my knife from its sheath, and cut the rope, releasing the sail so it let out, bearing us away from the wind.
But it was too late. The rocky tip of a mountain stood a foot above the water’s surface and was only twenty feet in front of us. I grabbed Pearl and pulled her close.
Bird tilted to the left as we ran over the mountain, water sloshing over the deck and Daniel rolling toward the gunwale. Pearl and I tumbled against the mast and clung to it. The boat slid over the mountain, the sound of cracking wood thundering around us.
The hull hit the water again with a thud and Bird almost leveled. I ran to Daniel, pulling him up beneath his armpits and propping him against the gunwale. He clutched his arm against his chest and gritted his teeth. Bird started to lean to the right. We were taking on water. I stood up and scanned the horizon, hoping to see land, but found none.
“Pearl, grab the bucket and a torch,” I said.
I opened the latch door in the deck and peered into the cavity between the hull and deck. Interlaced boards blocked my view, but I could hear the rush of water. Pearl handed me the torch, a branch with a piece of fabric wrapped around one end and a plastic bag over it to keep it dry. I ripped the plastic bag off the end and Pearl struck her flint stone against it.
I jumped through the hole, my feet hitting water when I landed. The flame only illuminated a foot around me, casting deep shadows between the interlaced boards. To the right I saw the hole, near the bottom right of the hull. The water inside was already two feet high. We could sink in an hour or less.
I pulled myself out of the hole and grabbed a bucket from Pearl. She’d already tied a string to the handle, and I dropped it into the hole and pulled it up, water dripping and sloshing over the rim.
“Pearl, while I haul water, you pack food and Daniel’s instruments into our bags. And bottle some of the water from the cistern.”
“It won’t all fit.”
“Don’t take the flour then.”
“Okay,” Pearl said. She turned and disappeared beneath the deck cover, dragging out bags and tossing them on the deck in front of her.
I dropped the bucket again and again, my arms and back beginning to ache.
“Shit,” I muttered. I wasn’t buying us any time. I tossed the water over the side of the boat, and it caught the light in a bright curve, sparkling like crystal. I squeezed my eyes shut and reopened them. Bird, I thought, thinking of Grandfather’s hands as he made her, his callused palms running over the wood.
I watched Bird sink as I clung to Daniel’s raft. Daniel and Pearl sat on top of the raft, clutching the sides so they wouldn’t be knocked off with each wave. There was only room for two without it sinking; I put Pearl on so she’d be safe and Daniel on so he’d stop pissing me off by bleeding into the water. We each wore a backpack stuffed with supplies.
Bird pitched to the side and seemed to hold steady as the water filled her. I felt that the water was filling me, its weight inescapable. But then a gurgling sound came from Bird, water pulling her down, and she disappeared from sight like a coin dropped in a wishing well. I sucked in air. Bird was the last thing tying me to my mother and grandfather, and without her I felt suspended, cut loose from them. I stifled a sob and clutched the raft more tightly.
I held my knife in my other hand, scanning the water for the shark.
“It will wait till we tire,” Daniel said, watching me, concern softening his voice.
I glared at him. You’ll tire first, I thought, half tempted to pull him into the water if I saw the shark again. “I told you not to reach for the sailfish,” I snapped.
“I told you we should’ve stayed on course and gone straight to port,” he snapped back. “Navigating this close to the coastline is impossible.”
A small strangled sound came from Pearl, a sob caught in her throat. She hadn’t stopped shaking since the first collision.
I reached my hand up to grasp her white knuckles. “Pearl, sweetie. We’re going to be okay.”
“I don’t want you in the water. The shark,” she cried.
“I’ve got my knife,” I said, holding the blade up so it glinted in the sun. I forced a smile and squeezed her hand. “We’ll be fine.”
Pearl’s tears fell on my hand over hers. A wave splashed in my face and I swallowed salt water and felt rage unfurl inside me. I cursed myself. I never should have let him on board.
All my tackle and bait, most of the food stores, the fresh water in the cistern. All sunk, drifting to the seafloor. Even if we made it to land, I’d have nothing to trade for food or new fishing supplies.
“Myra, I see something,” Daniel said.
“Shut up.”
“Myra—”
“I said shut up,” I said, clutching my knife tighter.
“It’s a ship,” he said, reaching into a bag for the binoculars.
“Give them to me.”<
br />
I peered through the binoculars, scanning the horizon until I landed on a ship. It was larger than a fishing boat, about the size of a merchant vessel. I squinted through the binoculars, searching for a flag.
“I don’t know who they are,” I said. Strangely, they seemed to be sailing straight toward us, though I was doubtful they could see us yet. They seemed almost three miles from us, and we were such a small speck in the vast sea. I doubted they could see us unless they were searching for us.
I gnawed on my lip, already dry from salt and sun. I gazed toward the ship, only able to see a small shadow on the horizon without the binoculars. The ship could save us or condemn us to a worse fate than taking our chances on the open sea.
“You should wave them down,” Daniel said, reaching into the backpack for our white flag.
“We don’t know who they are,” I repeated. “I’d rather face my chances on the open sea than chained in the hull of a raider ship.”
“It’s worth the risk,” Daniel said.
I glared at him. Worth the risk for him, I thought. He wouldn’t survive on the open sea long, but Pearl and I might. At least for a few days, and if the currents were right, maybe we’d make it to the coast.
He seemed to read my thoughts. “You two won’t make it long. We’re still several miles from the coast. This isn’t well-traveled territory; someone else won’t come along.”
I glanced back at the ship. I remembered talking with my mother up in the attic, sitting on the top step, as Grandfather had fitted Bird’s joints. We talked about the latest reports we’d heard, how far the water had come, what buildings in town to avoid. Jacob was gone, meeting up with some of his new friends I didn’t know. Row carried a pail of water past us and set it next to the others, clustered around the perimeter of the attic. The city water had been shut off the week before and we were collecting rainwater in all our buckets and bowls. Row knelt in front of the bucket and leaned forward, grinning into her reflection.
“Hi,” she said to herself and giggled.
Grandfather had smiled at her and patted the side of Bird. “She’ll be a good boat to start out in,” he’d said.
I was surprised when he said this—I never imagined we’d leave Bird, not after it’d taken so much work to build. I was so young, I wasn’t accustomed to loss and impermanence the way Grandfather was. I hadn’t known how to expect it or accept it.
My heartbeat quickened and I tried to breathe deeply. No choice but to move forward, I told myself.
“Hand me the fishing wire,” I said. I pulled my torso up on the raft and treaded water. I pierced the fishing wire through the fabric, tying it around the oar to make a flag.
When Daniel lifted it into the air with his uninjured arm I felt a cold weight in my stomach, like I was waiting to receive a sentence. I kept my eye on the ship as it grew larger and felt an unfurling sensation in my limbs, a movement of growing anticipation, a sense that this ship would change everything.
Chapter 13
When the ship approached, I feared it would collide with us. Before we were in the shadow of its hull, I caught a glimpse of several sailors moving on board. The ship itself had two sails and looked about sixty feet long. The name sedna was painted in black block letters on the hull. It reminded me of a merchant sailing vessel I’d seen in history books as a child. There was a small poop cabin, a goat in a pen on the deck, and a small canoe hanging from the wall of the cabin.
Daniel had grown paler as we waited, and now his eyelids hung heavy over his eyes.
“Stay awake,” I said sharply to him.
Pearl still clutched the side of the raft with white knuckles, her eyes wide, watching the ship draw near. Dehydration stung my throat and I swallowed and blinked my eyes to try to clear my head. Even my blood felt fuzzy with fatigue.
A ladder dropped from the ship’s gunwale down to the sea while the ship was still ten feet away.
“We’ll have to swim,” I told them.
Pearl’s eyes grew wide with terror and Daniel nodded in a drunken way.
I cursed under my breath. “I’ll swim with each of you. Pearl, come on,” I said.
Pearl wrapped her thin arms around me and we swam to the ladder. After I got her started up it, I went back for Daniel.
He was so heavy and his limbs moved so sluggishly, I felt a surge of panic that we’d both sink, his weight pulling me down. I thrashed furiously through the water, yanking him along. Once we reached the ladder, he grabbed it with his good hand.
“You go first,” I said. If he fell, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to save him, but I’d try, I realized with surprise.
Daniel scaled the ladder easier than I thought he would, going slowly but steadily. I had a feeling he’d collapse soon as he got on deck, so I pulled myself up the ladder quickly, my mind buzzing, thinking of Pearl alone up there.
A man grabbed my arm as I came up over the gunwale and I startled, put my hands on his chest to push him away, and was met with kind dark eyes.
“Woah, easy there, just helping you over. This gunwale is tall,” the man said, lifting me from the gunwale to the ground.
He was attractive, his face angular but friendly. He had black hair and light brown skin; wore a bandanna around his neck and leather lace-up boots.
“I’m Abran,” he said, shaking my hand. “Welcome to Sedna. Glad we made it to you in time.” His hands moved as he talked in quick bursts.
“Myra,” I said, glancing around at the crew, trying to decide what I thought of them. “This is Pearl and Daniel.”
“We normally take weapons,” Abran said as my hand flew to the knife sheathed at my waist. “But we want to welcome you onto our ship in good faith,” he said watching me carefully. “We actually know a bit about you. We have a friend in common—Beatrice in Apple Falls.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Beatrice,” I said softly.
“She said you always have a good catch. We didn’t expect to catch you.” Abran and a few others chuckled and I glared at them.
“Then, at Myer’s Port”—Abran pointed behind him toward the trading post—“some merchants said they got a good trade with you, so we wanted to catch up with you. I was worried we wouldn’t find you. Wayne had you in view and then it seemed you disappeared. You’re lucky we were already coming after you.”
The world was so small now, and since I visited the same trading villages every year, often during the same season, I was a regular. Names of trustworthy fishers and traders were swapped over whiskey or amid the smoke of a tobacco pipe at trading posts.
“What kind of ship is this?” I asked. The ship was much too big for the average fishing boat and it didn’t have the usual display of wealth you found on a merchant vessel.
“We’re a community,” Abran said, and I looked him over skeptically.
“But we should”—Abran gestured to Daniel—“we should get him treated. Jessa and Wayne—” A young woman and middle-aged man stood a few feet away, watching us. Jessa was petite, with a heart-shaped faced and fair complexion. Wayne had blond hair so bleached by the sun it looked white, and a splash of tattoos across his arms. “They’re going to salvage whatever is left of your raft.”
I nodded. Abran led the way across the deck to the poop cabin, near the stern. The poop cabin was a square, one-room building with a curtain separating the room in half. On this half of the room, the door into the cabin faced a long table and on the wall opposite the door there was a small window. Along the length of the table, shelves and baskets lined the wall, brimming with maps, books, rope, tackle, and cords.
Sunlight poured through the window and landed in a square on the table. It felt odd to be blocked from the wind on a ship, to move with the waves but not feel the wind on my body.
“If you use an ax instead of a sword, you have more force behind it. Really, it is better,” said a voice from behind the curtain.
“Mmm-hmm,” murmured another voice, the voice of a mother only paying half attention.
Abran stepped forward and pulled the curtain back to expose a tiny kitchen. A teenage boy of about seventeen was stirring a bowl of something that smelled like tomatoes in vinegar, the sweet, pungent smell making my stomach clench in hunger. Next to him, a middle-aged woman was standing on a stool, searching for something in a cabinet above a counter.
“Marjan,” Abran said, gesturing to the woman. “She’s our quartermaster and cook. And Behir,” he said, gesturing to the young man. “This is Myra, Daniel, and Pearl.”
Marjan turned on the stool and smiled at us. “Hello. We finally found you.” She had a square face, brown skin, glittering black eyes, and a black braid down her back. Something about her expression and the way she stood, grounded and calm, reminded me of Beatrice and I felt a surge of sadness.
Behir walked toward us, holding out his hand for us to shake, a wide smile on his face. Warmth radiated from him. He looked like a taller and thinner version of his mother, with the same bright eyes and kind demeanor.
Marjan got down from the stool and set a bag of grain on the counter. She stepped forward and stumbled over the stool and almost fell, but Behir caught her elbow and held her upright. “You okay?”
He asked the question with such tenderness, I felt that buzz in my veins, the electric shot when Pearl did something thoughtful for me. I had met so few other mothers with children still living. It seemed I only now met one without the other—childless mothers or orphans. I stared at them, drinking them in briefly before Abran said my name.
“What?” I asked.
“Can you get Daniel on the table while I get my supplies?” Abran asked. Abran walked to the shelving along the wall and pulled down a tackle box.
I dropped my backpack to the floor and helped Daniel lie down on the table. I pointed to a stool in the corner for Pearl and she settled into it, tucking her knees up under her chin. She was surprisingly quiet, her eyes moving about the room, watching Abran.
Abran peeled the bandage off Daniel’s arm, slowly and gently, careful to not pull Daniel’s flesh away with it. Daniel gritted his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut.
After the Flood Page 8