by Joanna Orwin
Matu posed a challenge. ‘Time to try out the sail?’
When the others nodded assent, Taka went with Kai to unlash the booms. It was good to have something to do, a welcome distraction. But even the act of standing upright seemed fraught with difficulty, his body still not attuned to the constant movement of the moki. While they struggled with ropes and folds of matting that threatened to pull out of their hands, and at the same time maintain their balance, Taka heard Matu commenting loudly from his place on the stern platform. ‘These Repo dancers can’t even keep their footing.’
Taka scowled, wishing Matu would give them a break, but he was too busy concentrating to think of a suitable retort. He wasn’t used to being so clumsy. Sorting out the unfamiliar gear was surprisingly difficult. At last he and Kai managed to set the small sail so that it filled with the breeze blowing from behind them. Kua-the-Seeker’s movement began to steady as soon as they were under sail. Already, Taka could sense the difference with his feet. Slowly, his body began to respond to this new rhythm. He stood facing forward with his legs apart, consciously relaxing his muscles, one hand ready to grab the rope that supported the booms. He could feel his torso sway slightly from the hips, his legs flex as his sense of balance started to adjust.
Soon, the moki was forging ahead. Water gurgled along her sides, then streamed away behind the stern in a roiling mass of bubbles. Taka felt as though they were flying, although he suspected their speed wasn’t much faster than that of a running man. Even though the platform wasn’t more than a metre above the sea surface, they were staying dry. Kai still clung with one hand to the roof of the shelter, but his face had some colour again, and he managed a smile in response to Taka’s whoop of delight.
Piko and Kota passed their paddles to Taka to store safely in the shelter. When he crawled back out, he paused to watch Matu, standing astride on the stern platform, his head back as he monitored the movement of the sail, constantly making small adjustments to their direction until he was satisfied they were getting the best out of the breeze. The moki seemed quite stable, but once she picked up speed, she yawed slightly from side to side. Rather than keeping her running directly before the wind as Taka would have done, Matu experimented with the breeze coming across the stern at a slight angle. Her wake straightened as the yawing stopped.
Kai was watching too. ‘He’s a natural.’
Reluctantly, Taka had to agree, but he decided to challenge Matu. ‘How about letting someone else have a turn?’
Matu stared back at him. ‘Think you’re up to it?’ He showed no sign of relinquishing the steering oar.
Kai intervened, his voice firm. ‘Even you have to rest at some stage.’
At first Taka thought Matu wasn’t going to budge, but then he shrugged and beckoned Piko to take over, deliberately ignoring Taka. As each of the others took their turn, Matu insisted on standing beside them giving loud instructions until he was satisfied they knew what they were doing. When at last it was his turn, Taka managed to swallow his annoyance. It didn’t help that the steering wasn’t as easy as it looked when the Hara youth was in charge. The moki threatened to yaw if he lost concentration even for a moment.
As the morning wore on, the breeze blew steadily. Kua-the-Seeker continued to perform better than any of them could have predicted. But once they’d each had a turn with the steering oar, Matu took over again, his stance implying it was his by right. After a while, Kai suggested they should come up with a routine for sharing the work. ‘We all have to be able to do everything. Not just steering — setting up the sail, paddling, food preparing and anything else you can think of.’
Taka could have sworn his cousin had intercepted his thoughts. He was quick to add his support. ‘Rigging that sail certainly wasn’t easy.’
‘Seems a pity to waste this steady wind.’ Piko wasn’t convinced. ‘Why don’t we at least lash the steering oar so it looks after itself?’
Matu objected. ‘We won’t get the best out of her that way.’
‘That may be true,’ Kota spoke up. ‘But Kai is right. We should take advantage of these conditions to practise.’
Although they were all reluctant to lose such good sailing, they accepted Kota’s argument. The Roto youth usually said so little that when he did express an opinion, they were inclined to take notice — even Matu.
They started trying to furl, then reset the sail, lift and stow the booms. They experimented with accommodating the moki’s rise and fall in their paddling rhythm. At first, whatever they tackled, they kept getting in each other’s way. The moki’s platform seemed impossibly small, and the constant movement made even simple tasks awkward and complicated. They all muttered and cursed, their tempers close to breaking point. When Matu knocked Taka off balance yet again, he was tempted to shove the Hara youth overboard. They stood swaying perilously on the heaving platform, glaring at each other until Kai defused the tension.
‘This isn’t working,’ he said, keeping his tone neutral. ‘There’re too many of us. How about we split up? Two shifts for the morning, two for the afternoon?’
‘Good thinking,’ said Piko. ‘We’ll need to do the same at night.’
From then on, they worked in shifts. They rested in pairs so there were always three people on deck: one on the steering oar, the other two keeping a watch on their angle to the swells and the set of the sail. They began to make better progress as they experimented with angles to the wind and the amount of belly in the sail needed to get the best speed. At Matu’s suggestion, they tried changing their positions on the hulls to see if their weight distribution made any difference.
By the end of the day, the Travellers could all do each task with reasonable skill. No one was still fumbling with wayward ropes or clutching at the nearest hand-hold as they moved about the platform. With only three on deck at a time they avoided getting in each other’s way. Equally important, Taka realized, the heaving ocean no longer seemed quite so alien or threatening.
When it was his turn to rest, he crawled under the shelter and stretched out luxuriously at full length on his sleeping mat. His cousin was doing the same beside him. Trust Kai, Taka thought as he listened to the constant creaking of the moki, the water whispering past the hulls and the wind song against the sail. Trust Kai to know how to get them working together without asserting himself in any obvious way. Kota’s input had helped, of course. Matu could learn a thing or two from them both. Taka’s body had adjusted to the rhythmic movement of the moki, and any traces of nausea had long gone. He lay at ease, his muscles relaxed, listening to the gentle sounds until they lulled him into a deep sleep.
The wind blew steadily from the south-east, making it easier for them to keep the moki on its northerly course. Only once did they have to paddle for lack of wind, and that was only until the middle of the day when the sail began drawing again. Clear night skies meant they could carry on using stars to maintain their direction during the hours of darkness. But each dawn they had to correct their position as the sun rose. Each dawn they seemed to be further off the mark. No one commented, so Taka thought perhaps he was imagining it. Besides, during the day, they could rely on the angle of the consistent, long ocean swells.
The days slowly passed, each much the same as the one before. As time passed, Taka became increasingly convinced they weren’t tracking the right stars through the night — he at least was having trouble even isolating the ones they’d selected. He expressed his concerns to Kai when they were sharing the first shift one night. It was a moment before his cousin responded. Taka could see his profile in the dim light, staring towards the horizon where their guiding stars had risen. He waited patiently.
Eventually Kai spoke. ‘I’ve also wondered about that. There must be more to star navigation than we’d hoped. What’s more, I think Piko was right about currents. Even if we are managing to maintain a northerly course, I’m sure those stars rise further west of us each night.’
‘Meaning?’ Taka wasn’t sure what point his cous
in was making.
‘Meaning we’re being carried eastwards. Moving sideways like a crab.’
‘Perhaps it doesn’t matter?’ Taka felt rather than saw Kai turn his head and look at him. He explained. ‘As you pointed out yourself, we don’t know where land is anyway.’
Kai ignored the slight edge in his voice. ‘That Kahu legend talks of travelling north and towards the setting sun. It means land must lie to the west rather than the east.’
This was getting too complicated, and Taka was made uneasy by even more evidence that they had little control over their direction. But they were under Tanga’s protection, weren’t they? He rallied. ‘Maybe the currents switch direction at some stage. Maybe the wind changes.’
His cousin shook his head. ‘Aren’t you forgetting we’re meant to return? If we do find land, we have to be able to work out how to get back home.’
‘I’d not thought that far ahead,’ Taka admitted. He wasn’t about to show Kai how relieved he was that his cousin was thinking of the possibility of getting home again. Only a few days ago, he’d been suggesting they were doomed.
The long days and the even longer nights slowly passed. They soon abandoned any real attempt to navigate by the stars as one by one the others admitted that they, too, had no confidence that they were tracking them accurately. They settled into a routine, rotating the shifts so that they all took turns at staying awake during the small hours. When Taka had to work with Matu, he kept as much distance between them as he could, not that it was easy on such a small craft. Matu still couldn’t resist making little digs. Taka knew he was stupid to respond, but he couldn’t help himself. The Hara youth simply took up too much space. Everything about him was irritating: his bulk, his sneering voice, his constant need to tell everyone how to do things …
On this particular evening, nothing was going right. The sea was choppier than usual, the waves breaking in small, ragged crests. Kota on the steering oar kept asking them to adjust the angle of the sail. Even the movement of the hulls under their feet was uncomfortable. When Taka lurched against Matu for the third time while they tweaked the sail yet again, the Hara youth snarled, ‘Tanga protect me! Why did I get lumbered with you lot? You’re useless.’ He pushed Taka roughly.
As Taka stepped backwards, momentarily off balance, he just managed to stop himself going overboard by grabbing hold of one of the sail ropes. He swung himself back to safety, his heart pounding. ‘What did you do that for?’
Matu didn’t respond. He was staring intently over the side of the hull. When Taka yelled again, getting ready to square off and hit him, Matu waved him off impatiently. Something in his stance cooled Taka’s flare of temper. He subsided, his fists slowly unclenching. ‘What? What are you looking at?’
Matu straightened and glanced up at the sail again. ‘That swell’s coming from a different angle.’ He turned to Kota. ‘Why didn’t you notice, you dumb idiot? That’s the problem.’
Kota replied, his voice unruffled, ‘This chop makes it hard to tell where the swell’s coming from.’
‘I’m taking over,’ said Matu. The other youth stepped aside without protest.
Matu turned the moki in quite a different direction, then shouted at them to reset the sail. As they obeyed, Taka muttered, ‘Now we’re not even heading north.’
Kota shook his head. ‘He was right, though. The moki’s already riding better.’
Matu experimented further until he was satisfied. Soon they were sailing properly once more. He was now gazing towards the western horizon. ‘Better get the others out here. Bad weather’s coming.’
While Kota went to wake them, Taka stared westwards. At first, he couldn’t see what was bothering Matu. Then he noticed a faint, grey smudge lying just above the horizon. It didn’t look any different to him from the usual evening cloud, but even as he watched, it thickened and spread rapidly towards them, darkening the western sky. By the time Kai and Piko joined them, lightning was slashing jagged rents in the approaching cloud mass.
They all stood on deck watching. Underneath them, the hulls shifted uneasily, responding to wave movement they’d not experienced before. Then the wind swung abruptly to the west. The sail’s free upper edge started to thrum alarmingly.
Before anyone else could react, Matu barked, ‘Loosen those tethers. Heave the booms around. We need to reset the sail on the opposite side.’
The others hesitated, not sure how to achieve the switch. This wasn’t Something they’d thought to practise. Then Piko and Kota went to untie both ropes.
Matu shouted at them, his voice impatient. ‘Use your brains! You two — just loosen off that downwind rope. Slowly. You — Taka, Kai — get ready to haul in the upwind one at the same time.’
To Taka’s chagrin, the tactic worked. The freed boom swung out in an arc, crossing the prows to the other side so they could haul it in. The sail refilled and the moki’s wayward movement settled almost immediately.
‘Just let him dare say anything about how smart he is,’ Taka said to Kai through gritted teeth as they fastened the ropes in their new position.
‘Give him credit,’ said Kai. ‘He’s a born sailor.’
For once, Matu didn’t bother crowing. Instead he concentrated on getting the moki sailing as well as he could. The waves were building steadily and the wind song deepened. The moki rode up the steep face of each wave, then hesitated on the crest before plunging down the other side into the trough. At first Taka thought they’d plummet to the bottom of the ocean, but Kua-the-Seeker shook off each deluge. Each time, the water streamed off her hulls and through the open lattice work of the central platform, then the prows thrust upwards as she started the climb up the next wave. He didn’t know whether he should be afraid or exhilarated. Kai’s face was green again, and he had to ignore his own churning stomach.
Before long, Matu was weaving a path through contrary cross-waves, his legs firmly braced against the H-frame. His hair escaped its headband and streamed behind him in the wind. He was wet with spray, but looked unconcerned. Taka thought sourly that he at least seemed to be enjoying every moment of their gut-wrenching ride.
Piko shouted over the rising roar of the approaching storm, ‘Do you want to be spelled?’
Matu shook his head. ‘You’d be better off making sure everything’s tied down securely. Two out here, two in the shelter.’
It made sense, and even Taka set about doing so without argument. In the short time it took to secure everything with extra ties, the storm intensified. The moki creaked and groaned as she laboured before the strengthening wind. The sky was dark now. The only light came from the crackling white flare of lightning, which every now and then lit up the hulls and the straining sail. Rain fell in fierce spears that hurt Taka’s eyes.
It was Kota’s turn to shout. ‘Should we take the sail down?’
‘No!’ Matu shouted back. Before Taka could think it was his bravado talking, the Hara youth added, ‘We might lose all control.’
‘Anything else we should do?’ Piko looked enquiringly at each of them in turn. When no one answered, he pointed at the shelter. ‘Anyone not needed out here should get under cover.’
It was obvious Matu had no intention of handing over the steering. Taka accepted he was the best person for the job, but decided it was time he asserted himself. ‘I’ll stay out here — Matu shouldn’t be on his own.’
For a moment he thought the other youth would object, but Matu just nodded, then concentrated on dodging the next set of cross-waves.
The night grew blacker. The darkness intensified the noise of wind and water. The squalls of rain slammed against them, solid sheets of water that bruised Taka’s skin and blinded him. He was convinced Kua-the-Seeker was riding lower in the water. Despite Matu’s best efforts, she lurched from wave to wave at a speed he thought would drive them right under into the clutches of waiting sea-demons. As she struggled up each crest, he held his breath until the moki laboriously succeeded in shaking off the water. The ro
pes tethering the sail were straining. He expected its matting to begin shredding at any moment.
A huge sea hit them beam on. Matu fought to regain control as thigh-deep water swept over the hulls. The sea was immediately followed by a blast of wind. The moki tipped perilously, one hull almost submerged. In the next glare of lightning, Taka saw the edges of the sail split and fray. But it still held the wind. He clawed his way to the tilted stern platform and yelled in Matu’s ear. ‘We’ve got to get that sail down somehow!’
Matu nodded agreement, not taking his eyes off the prows as another wave slammed them. ‘You can try, but I don’t like your chances!’
Out of the corner of his eye, Taka saw the Hara youth snatch a hand from the steering oar to make a quick demon-averting sign before he was again hanging on with all his strength.
It was only then that Taka remembered Something. Something he should have thought of earlier. The god stick his sister Hina had given him. The god stick that would call Tanga to their aid. Cursing himself for his stupidity, he fumbled with his waist pouch, sea-swollen, wet fingers struggling to open it one-handed. At last he caught hold of the solid, long package and managed to wriggle it out of the pouch. The wrapped god stick lay alien and inert in his hand. Without making any attempt to unwrap it, he held the stick up high and faced the prows. Praying that he’d not offended Tanga by delaying so long, he took a deep breath. Then he raised his voice against the shriek of the storm. He used words he hadn’t known he knew. Ancient words, a chant commanding the water-god’s assistance:
Tanga of the waves, tame these crests
Tanga of the waves, quell those seas
Sweep away the storm clouds here
Turn away the deluge there