Wayne tugged at his thick blond mustache and bristled. “An entire sailcloth?”
“We can spare it,” Marjan said.
“He was one of us,” Abran said.
Wayne folded his arms over his chest, nodded, and looked down.
I was surprised. It almost felt too extravagant, this show of loyalty. An entire sailcloth could go for two whole baskets of fish.
When they finished wrapping him in the sailcloth, each crew member murmured a good-bye to John. Abran went last, and after saying his good-bye he said to the crew, “John believed what we believed in: in a haven, a place for us to settle. Where we can build what we know will sustain us and continue on after us. We can honor his memory by moving forward.”
Thomas and Wayne then lifted John’s body over the gunwale and let him drop to the water. The dark water rose in a splash around him. I would never get over how quickly the water could swallow a person; it would always frighten me.
Afterward some of the crew stayed on deck, murmuring to each other or standing apart in silence. Marjan fingered a necklace at her throat as if it were a string of prayer beads. After some time passed, Marjan returned to the kitchen to clean up and I volunteered to help her.
When I came back out under the black sky I saw Pearl and Daniel at the bow, talking and laughing. Pearl stepped back from Daniel and did a little spin, the starlight carving her silhouette out of the darkness. She wrinkled her nose like she did when she found something really funny. I wondered if Row laughed and moved like that, with abandon.
Across the deck Abran tightened rope at a block. He nodded at me and smiled. He’d want an answer from me soon. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing Pearl and I were still on Bird, not shoved into a different life with people I knew nothing about. I had always expected danger from others, even when I was younger.
Back when I was seventeen, I had walked down a street several blocks from my home, scavenging for food and warm clothes in abandoned houses. I’d jimmy open broken windows or check back doors. Many of the homes on the street were empty, people having already moved on to higher altitudes. In the years before, Nebraska had been crowded with migrants, but then the entire state felt like a ghost town.
I passed crocuses in a front yard and bent down to pick a few. Behind me I saw a man walking toward me. He wore disheveled clothing, his face slightly pink from drink or illness. He was someone I had passed earlier that day, at the park. We had locked eyes before quickly moving on in opposite directions.
Was he following me now? I dropped the flowers and hurried on down the street. I turned the corner, heading home.
He followed me, picked up the pace. My thoughts lurched and scattered. Should I run? But then he’d chase, and I likely couldn’t outrun him. Better to stand my ground.
He was only a few paces behind me when I whipped out my knife and whirled around.
He stopped and held up his hands. “I don’t mean to bother you,” the man said. He reached into his coat pocket and took out a plum and set it on the concrete between us.
“I just wanted to say you have beautiful eyes.” He paused as if struggling with something. He bit his lip, and his face was so haunted I felt hollowed. “They remind me of my daughter’s eyes.” He backed away from me quickly, leaving the plum behind, a small gift.
I tucked the knife back into my belt and took a bite of the plum. It was sweeter than anything I’d tasted in months.
Pearl’s laugh pulled me back to the deck. She was flapping her arms like a bird and cackling madly. I thought of this crew and how I always acted like it was me against the world. Always ready to pull my knife. Grandfather used to tell me this attitude would sometimes give me what I needed, but not always.
This could be good, I decided. You could fish for them. You could convince them to sail north.
I watched Pearl for a few more minutes. Now she was lifting Daniel’s good arm and trying to get him to twirl. She laughed when he pretended to lose his balance and fall into the gunwale. I liked seeing Pearl from a distance like that, to stand back and observe her without me. It felt like a window into her future; it was how she’d be once I was gone.
Chapter 16
After I tucked Pearl into bed I met Daniel upstairs near the bow of the ship. Stars blinked overhead, clear and bright as diamonds strewn across black velvet. They were so bright, with no other lights to dim them. The night sounds of the sea swarmed around us; waves lapping the side of the boat, rope groaning against metal blocks, the wooden twist of the halyard straining against a light wind.
“We should change your bandages,” I said.
“Just because I think they may be good people doesn’t mean I think we should stay with them,” Daniel said, his voice low.
“Why are you so set against it?”
“What about the Valley?” Daniel asked, turning from the water to face me.
“I’m still going,” I said quietly. A mile away some large creature surfaced and disappeared again.
“You’re going to try to convince them to go there, aren’t you?”
“What if I do?”
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“When you try to convince them, are you going to tell them it’s a Lost Abbot colony?”
I frowned at him, searching his face in the moonlight. “I didn’t tell you it was the Lost Abbots. I only told you it was a colony.”
“I talked to some people in Harjo,” he said, turning from me, leaning his elbows on the gunwale.
“I know. I saw. What else did you talk about in Harjo?”
“These people are looking for a safe place to settle. That’s not why you’re going.”
“It could be a good place to settle. It has natural protection against invasions since it’s between two mountains. It’s also hard to get to, so they won’t suffer as many attacks.”
Daniel looked at me hard.
“I can’t tell them why I’m going, Daniel. They won’t go then. They’ll only go if they think it’s a safe place to settle.”
I couldn’t tell them the truth: that I was going to rescue my daughter and that it was an unsafe place to settle, because if it was safe, what was I saving her from? I could tell Abran was cautious, prizing stability among his community above all things. I couldn’t be the unstable link and think I could convince them to change course. I needed to insinuate myself, become the person they couldn’t lose.
“Do you think I have the time and resources to build a boat like this?” I asked.
“Wasn’t that your original plan?”
“Did you agree to come with me because you knew I wouldn’t actually get there? You knew a plan like that wouldn’t work. How far did you think I’d get? Where are you wanting to end up?” I said, my voice rising. I clenched my fists at my sides. Thomas and Jessa, talking near the stern, glanced over at us.
Daniel shook his head and let out a low, angry laugh. “You might not know this, but things get complicated fast when you travel in a big group. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”
Sedna tilted on a wave and we surged forward at an angle. We hurtled through the night like a lone fish in a pond with no banks. I bit my lip and reached out for Daniel’s hand on the gunwale. “Please,” I said.
He pulled his hand away and looked at me intently. “I don’t want another thing to regret.”
He turned as if he was going to walk away from me, then turned back. “What happens in a big group like this is people start wanting different things.”
I waited for him to go on, the ship creaking in the water, the low moan of its parts straining against each other.
“That woman I told you about earlier who reminds me of you? Well, she and I joined a big ship, of about ten people, in the Caribbean three years back. We were mostly scavengers, for metal, meat, wood, fur. Some of us could trap along the banks. One fished some, but it was never too profitable for us. Well, half the people wanted to start a breeding ship and partner with some raiders.”<
br />
I stiffened, and he swallowed and paused before going on.
“We were starving, the ship was deteriorating, we couldn’t fix it, we couldn’t settle on land without enough resources to trade for a place to settle. We may as well have been in the middle of space, floating among the stars, for all our options. Well, Marianne . . . Marianne wouldn’t stay quiet. Railed against it. She and I planned to get off the ship at the next trading post and live like beggars, doing whatever we could just to get off the ship. But the night before we docked, some of the crew beat me and locked me in the hull of the ship. Then they raped Marianne. I heard it through the floorboards. I stayed up all night, bloodying my wrists against the rope, listening to her screams. In the morning it was silent. When they got me out, she was gone. She had jumped off the ship with the anchor tied to her ankle.”
I couldn’t speak for a moment. He ran his palm back and forth across the gunwale like he was trying to wipe it clean. I took his hand and covered it with mine.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“I killed them,” Daniel said, his eyes stricken and haunted. “The next morning, when they let me out, I . . . I went mad. I killed each and every one.”
A chill ran through my body but I kept hold of his hand.
After a few seconds, Daniel said, “I don’t think anything like that will happen here. These people are too good for that. But . . . something will go wrong.”
I couldn’t disagree. I felt my eyes brimming with tears, and I blinked them away and tried to steady my strained voice. “She’s alone, Daniel. I have to help her.”
Daniel nodded and laid his other hand on top of mine.
“Will you still come with us?”
Daniel didn’t say anything for a minute. Clouds shifted and moonlight brightened the sea. “I gave you my word.”
“Things changed. You can leave us if you want,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t.
Daniel shook his head. “I won’t.”
Chapter 17
The next morning the sky held a soft gray cast and an orange glow spread above the water where the sun would soon rise. I stood on deck, awakened early by hunger pangs. Though I had eaten well last night, I knew it’d be days before my stomach settled after having been empty so long.
“You’re up early.”
I turned and saw Abran walking toward me, his hair ruffled and unkempt, his skin still soft and full from sleep, not yet wind beaten and raw from sea air.
We both stood in silence for a few moments, watching the sun rise. It cast a pink light across the water, and I imagined I could feel its warmth even before it fully rose.
“I hope this isn’t too intrusive, but—are you and Daniel a couple?”
I raised my eyebrows to ask if it was a serious question.
Abran blushed and went on, “We’ve never had a couple on board. Our sleeping arrangements are communal and I’m not sure we have space to accommodate—”
“We aren’t a couple,” I said.
“Oh. Okay. Good.”
“And we’ve decided to stay,” I said.
I could feel Abran smiling at me, but I didn’t turn to face him. I was trying to think of a way to bring up the Valley to him, to see if he’d even consider changing his route.
“That’s wonderful news,” he said warmly.
“Daniel knows how to navigate,” I said.
“I know. Marjan talked to him about it. A fisher and a navigator. What luck. Thomas and I have been navigating, but we aren’t too skilled at it. It will be good to have an expert on board.”
“With a navigator like Daniel you aren’t confined to the Pacific and Caribbean.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you could consider other places beyond South America for a place to settle. There’s a place in southeast Greenland called the Valley. I’ve heard that it’s a peaceful community, a good place to settle—”
Abran shook his head. “You’d have to cross Raider’s Aisle to get there. It’s considered worse than the Caribbean.”
“You don’t think some of that is tall tales?”
“It’s not worth the risk.” His voice was sharp and final.
Irritation twisted inside me and I took a breath, nodding and offering a stiff smile, but Abran saw through it.
“Sorry,” he said, “but I have a responsibility to these people. Can’t take on unnecessary dangers.”
“I understand,” I said. I had a sinking feeling, a strange helpless flutter. I’d have to try to persuade him in other ways. Maybe if we ran into trouble farther south, I could convince him the north was no worse. But that’d waste so much time. I felt there was a ticking clock inside me, urging my blood into faster rhythms, making my mind buzz like something pinned to a wall.
“Look—I actually should have explained to you earlier, but we have some rules,” Abran said.
I nodded and bit my lip. Of course. I should have asked about the rules. Every ship had rules new members had to agree to.
“We have them written down in the cabin, and I’ll have each of you sign your name to the list. Even Pearl. No lights after nine o’clock. Meals are in the cabin at eight, noon, and six. On odd days of the week we do sponge baths with water from the cistern if there’s enough in storage for drinking. No stealing or skimming from your own work. Things like keeping a few fish to trade on your own at posts. Everyone has equal vote on major decisions. Desertion in battle or any attempt at mutiny is punished with marooning. Lost a few people with that. That’s it, mostly.”
“By suggesting another course—”
Abran laughed. “That’s not mutiny. Least I hope I don’t have to worry about that from you,” he said, nudging me with his elbow.
“You’ve had to maroon people before?”
“Two guys started trying to decide everything. Starting with small things: who we traded with, where we fished, where we docked. But then it went further. They got into deciding rations on food and oil and changing course, all without wanting to cast a vote. In the end, they wanted to get rid of me. Thomas found out and came to me. We left them on a small island in the northwest part of the Rocky Mountains. We left them with a few supplies.”
When I didn’t say anything, Abran grinned and said, “Doesn’t work out with everyone. But I’m pretty sure it’s going to work out with you.”
I hoped he was right, but the knot in my throat wouldn’t loosen.
Daniel set up his navigating instruments in the cabin that morning and calculated our location, two thousand miles from Alahana, a village in the Andes. The plan was to stop and trade there before heading farther south.
A stingray leapt from the water a mile away. Sometimes trevally, known to like clearer, coastal water, were found swimming with stingrays for hunting cover. I sat on the deck with a bucket of anchovies, pinning them on hooks. I’d try to catch the trevally with small fish and bright lures, and then I’d try bottom-water trawling for shrimp and cod before we got too close to the coast. Their downrigger, anchored near the rudder of the ship, was much larger and stronger than mine had been, and I was anxious to try it. Maybe after I had a good catch I could bring up the Valley to Abran again.
Abran walked past, waving at me as he entered the cabin. His charming, confident wave reminded me of Jacob once again. I thought Abran’s similarity to Jacob would make me dislike him, but it didn’t; it made me feel strangely close to him. Familiar. Like we’d known each other longer. Abran would tease me about the hours I spent on deck, taking few breaks, and I’d tease him about always looking busy but not getting much done. He’d chuckle and shake his head, reach out and give me a gentle shove. Whenever I spoke to him I could feel myself easing back into some pattern.
Pearl watched Jessa and Wayne as they wove a rope through a new block and tackle near the mainmast.
“That’s not how it’s supposed to be done,” Pearl announced. “They don’t know what they’re doing.”
Jessa and Wayne glared at us.
�
�Can I go tell them how to do it right?” Pearl asked.
“No,” I said.
Jessa walked over to us and pointed to the snakes woven around Pearl’s wrists.
“Does she need to wear those?” Jessa asked.
“I don’t see why it’s a problem,” I said.
Pearl glared at Jessa and started stroking one of the snakes with her finger.
“It’s not sanitary. They’re dead,” Jessa said.
“Charlie isn’t,” Pearl said. Charlie was the snake Pearl kept alive in her jar down in the quarters.
“Snake meat doesn’t spoil as quickly as fish; you can keep it in the skin for a few hours,” I said.
Marjan came out of the cabin and walked toward us.
“The meat will go bad. We need it. It’s breaking the rules,” Jessa said.
“Is the meat bad?” Marjan asked.
“No, I won’t let it go bad. She just likes to play with them after she catches them. I’ll smoke them soon as I’m done with these lures.”
“It’s not efficient,” Jessa said.
Marjan held up a hand. “It doesn’t need to be. The girl likes them and the meat isn’t bad. It’s fine.”
Jessa looked like she was going to argue further, but she rolled her eyes and turned on her heel. Marjan offered a small smile and shrugged.
“Can I help?” Marjan asked. “I just finished weaving.”
I nodded. “Hook them near the tail, so when we pull them through the water it’ll look like they’re swimming.”
“It’s lovely to have a child on board. She reminds me of my girl,” Marjan said, glancing at Pearl. She sat cross-legged next to me. She wore flat leather sandals and a loose cotton tunic and pants. “So spirited.”
“And belligerent,” I said.
Marjan fingered the necklace, rubbing her finger over a small wooden bead. I’d seen other people wear necklaces like this. A new bead was added to the necklace when the wearer lost someone close to them. Marjan’s necklace had three beads.
After the Flood Page 10