‘Oh, you have noticed our empty food box?’
‘It’s not empty.’
‘What, a couple of bananas, a couple of coconuts and a few roots? This is the last day we can go back. That food could get us back on the Bird Island – starving a bit but we could make it. But tomorrow it will be too late.’
For a long moment Eagle Eye stares at Fast Fish, then says, ‘Good. Tomorrow you will have to think about where we are going . . .’
In the late afternoon there is a flight of cuckoo-shrikes coming from Bird Island and they are aiming where the rafts are going.
Eagle Eye nods at them, ‘We are going in the same direction.’
‘Maybe,’ Fast Fish says.
‘What, you won’t believe your eyes?’
‘I can see them but I don’t know where they are going. They may fly around the moon.’
‘What about those tiny blue wrens? You are a pain . . .’
I quickly say, ‘There is one of the birds coming down.’
They look up. A single bird drops away from the flight; the bird flutters like a leaf falling from a tall tree. It looks like it will hit the water, but then it levels to my head and it circles the rafts. I stop breathing as the cuckoo-shrike wafts around the rafts, and then it dives at our raft.
Waterlily whispers, ‘Snuff.’
I murmur, ‘Shufflewing.’
Eagle Eye says, ‘Shush.’
The cuckoo-shrike glides to the edge of our raft, where no people are sitting, and it careens on the bamboos, flapping its right wing and banging into the raft like it is broken. But then Shufflewing staggers a little, folds both wings and turns its black face to Waterlily.
She starts to clap her hands but she realises it will scare the bird away and stops.
It is! I grin at the bird.
The Shufflewing settles down on the bamboos as if it is going to lay an egg.
Both Eagle Eye and Fast Fish are smiling at the bird, but Fast Fish is moving very slowly to a crouch.
‘Hello,’ I mouth and then I look at Eagle Eye. ‘Can Waterlily give him something to eat?’
She looks at him with pleading eyes.
He moves his head a little from side to side, ‘It doesn’t need food, and we do.’ Then he sees the eyes and he sighs, his voice a breeze. ‘All right.’.
But I shout ‘No!’
I see what Fast Fish is doing. His right foot slides, his toes grip the spear and his foot lifts the spear from the bamboo to his hand. His fingers move along the shaft as his arm lifts the spear to his ear.
Shufflewing leaps from the raft as I jump at Fast Fish to push him sideways. The spear misses the bird by a hand and slices into the water.
‘You bloody idiot!’ roars Fast Fish. ‘What possessed you?’
The bird circles the raft, gazing down with a puzzled look on its black face.
Waterlily simply says, ‘Snuff.’
Fast Fish ignores her and stares at me. ‘You really deliberately pushed me to save that bird?’
I don’t say anything as Burnt Earth recovers the spear and the bird wobbles towards the distant other birds.
‘I want to break your neck! That bird might be the difference between us dying on this raft and getting there.’ He throws his arms up and looks at Eagle Eye. ‘You deal with him; it’s your wretched boy.’
But Eagle Eye is looking at the disappearing bird with a soft smile. ‘Never mind, Fast Fish, there was little meat in it. But that bird was tired. It doesn’t cruise the open ocean, it goes to a place very close. I can almost smell it . . .’
Old Tortoise’s hook fails again. And then there is a seventh day on the voyage . . .
In the early night, it is very quiet. I can hear the heavy breathing of Eagle Eye as he paddles behind me. I can hear Old Tortoise chewing as if he can see roast mountain deer on his eyelids. And I can hear Waterlily whimpering as she sleeps. I try to forget their sounds and concentrate on the raft and ocean.
But . . . There’s something new. I don’t know what it is, but something is there in the darkness. I can feel the vast space of the sea and its emptiness, but that has been there from the day we couldn’t see the Bird Island. I can feel the heart of the ocean now, like the beating of a great fish, but it’s not that. I hear drops from my paddle tapping in the water, and the moon gives us a silver river to help us navigate to that bright star. I can even hear some little fish leaping somewhere in the sea.
But then I see the stars blinking to the left.
And then the stars are very slowly wiped from the sky. I can see a bright star twinkling, but then it becomes dull and then it is gone. And a batch of stars just disappears.
‘Ah, Eagle Eye . . .’ I say.
‘I am watching them. Maybe it’s only clouds drifting.’
The stars keep disappearing as we paddle through the night, but there is a cold breeze coming from the left. Low waves are breaking on the raft, and I can feel the bamboos creaking as the swells move under them. Old Tortoise and Brown Moss wake up but the others don’t move.
‘What?’ Brown Moss says.
‘I don’t know yet,’ Eagle Eye says. ‘Maybe nothing.’
But Old Tortoise shakes his head.
Suddenly, there is one lightning bolt that strikes through the dark.
‘That’s it.’ Eagle Eye nudges Fast Fish and shouts to the other rafts: ‘Get up! We are going to be hit by a storm. Get ready.’
Fast Fish pushes the spear over the food box on an angle so the spearhead is jammed into two bamboos. Brown Moss opens the water carrier then helps The Wind shove the palm leaves under the spear and tie the grass cord on top. Then they put their legs under Brown Moss’s palm strands on top of the bamboo, and hold Waterlily’s hands.
The next lightning bolt is far bigger than the first one, like a mighty tree spreading into the night sky with its roots in the black ocean. And then there is a brilliant flash that catches images of everything, like how Pa caught spirits with his white ochre on the walls of the Rat Cave.
I can see The Wind’s hand pushing a grass through the bin, Brown Moss’s fingers whitening on Waterlily’s hand, and Waterlily biting her lip. Eagle Eye lifts his paddle from the wave, and I can see the shining drops falling from the curling leaves. Old Tortoise is facing the storm with his face muscles taut; Burnt Earth has his hand touching his cheek; Moonlight is holding her swollen belly, and Fast Fish is gripping her shoulder. I can see the other rafts motionless in the still waves.
But the night sky is terrible. The lightning flash catches the swirling clouds, like purple spirits and black monsters crashing into each other.
‘Oh,’ Burnt Earth says.
Eagle Eye starts to say something but is drowned out by a thundering crash. That sound seems to shake the world; it rings through my ears. Eagle Eye is shouting to the other rafts but I can’t hear his words in the wind. Old Tortoise is shaking his head at him.
Eagle Eye shouts again, ‘Get close, get close.’ And then he sees Old Tortoise. ‘What?’
‘I don’t think that is a very good idea.’
‘Why?’
‘Feel the waves on the raft. It is going to get worse and we could bang into the other the rafts.’
‘You are worse than Fast Fish.’
The next lightning flash shows the big waves rolling towards us.
‘All right,’ Eagle Eye says. He turns to the other rafts. ‘No, go away. Get away from the other rafts. Quickly!’
The paddlers in the other rafts try to get away from each other, like shufflewings scattering from a swooping eagle.
Rain hits us in a sudden crash. The thundering water blocks the sight of any of the other rafts; I can’t even see anyone on our raft! The heavy torrential rain feels like I have fallen into the sea, and I hold my breath for a moment. The rain is cold but it is tamping down the waves. I open my mouth when I feel that I can breathe. The water has a beautiful taste – greater than I have ever had – I think that my lips can taste jackfruit. But the tast
e is changing to salt.
The rain is failing to calm down the waves. My buttocks can feel the bamboos rising, falling and rolling, but worse is seeing the waves with the lightning. When a fork flash tears the night, I see a wall of water coming at us.
Eagle Eye shouts: ‘Turn the raft! Turn it!’
I am paddling like a madman but the raft isn’t moving enough. I am looking at nothing but that wall – there are streaks running up the wall, the foam sliding down the side.
‘Hold on!’ Eagle Eye hisses.
The raft raises and I feel that I am toppling. I think I have dropped the branch, but that branch is more important for the raft than I am. I grip it as I hold onto the bin and the edge of the raft. The raft is vertical now and the coconuts roll in the box. I can hear The Wind gasping behind my shoulder and I grab her arm. She is shivering.
I think the raft will go turtle. Somehow it doesn’t but we are facing a mighty wave and we are looking at a drop as steep as a chasm on the Bird Island, and the raft is slipping into it.
‘Oh, oh, oh . . .’ Fast Fish says.
The spear lifts from the raft and wobbles and then the raft crashes into the bottom. I am hit by a solid mass of water and I can feel my body lifting from the raft. I try to get my body down but it isn’t working. I can feel the water racing past my face, my stomach, and I think, That’s it – the raft is going down to the bottom of the sea and I am drifting away from it.
And then I hear a shout of pain.
I think foggily that you can’t hear under the water, and I open my eyes. It is confusing with the waves and dark shadows around me. Then lightning shivers across the sky and I can see the raft before me. It is awash, but everyone is still there, grabbing the bamboos and each other. Fast Fish lays on top of Moonlight to hold her to the raft, and I am still holding The Wind’s arm and she is still gripping Waterlily.
Deep in the terrible night, we lose Burnt Earth when a palm strand snaps. He yells as he slides across the bamboo. I clutch at him, but it is too late. The big wave grabs him and takes him away with the wind. In a lightning flash I can see his frightened eyes as he desperately tries to catch the strand that is still connected to the raft, but it is twisting like a snake, and the raft slides away from him. I shout at him but it is useless. I stop shouting and just keep staring at him, as if that link will pull him back – as long as the link is not broken. But the darkness comes and I can no longer see him.
I think I say, ‘He’s gone . . .’
And then a giant wave comes and the raft lifts, and suddenly the wave throws him onto the raft. Old Tortoise and I hold him with our legs until he can grab people who get him under a strand. He looks at me and closes his eyes.
The raft is still surrounded by seething waves. The raft buckets; the night above us flickers with constant lightning and thunder booms. And all that we can do is hang on . . .
I wake up slowly and begin to look around me. The storm stopped some time in the morning. I don’t know when that happened and I think that nobody on the raft knows. The sky is rolling grey clouds with a dim wash from the sun, the sea is still seething, and I can’t see the other rafts. But on this raft, the people are sprawled together. They seem to be dead, like big rat carcasses. I realise that my hand is still locked on The Wind’s arm, and when I let go she opens her eyes.
‘It’s gone,’ I mumble.
She jerks her head towards Waterlily and sees that she is still connected to her and Brown Moss’s hands, with a strand over her body. She looks beaten but she is breathing. The Wind touches her neck where the shell necklace used to be and looks at me.
‘The food box,’ I say.
The box has three small bamboos leaning to show where it was. Now, there is nothing there but two broken banana leaves – no water carrier, coconuts, roots, mussels. Nothing at all. And there are no paddles on the raft, or that Crocodile spear. If we see a turtle or a fish, we can’t race the raft after them, but it’s all right because we don’t have the spear.
And . . .
There is blood on the bamboo.
I look at the blood and I try to tell myself that it is not bad. It’s not much, like a fish has been killed there. I search my body – nothing – and then look at the others. Nothing, really. And then I think about the baby in the belly of Moonlight. That baby could have died in that storm.
I look at where the food box used to be. And so maybe it is better . . .
Fast Fish is watching me. ‘There is something you are hiding.’
‘No.’ I shake my head.
Moonlight wakes up, pushes him aside and touches her belly.
He stares at her. ‘Is it all right?’
‘I felt him kicking.’
His face flashes with a smile and my face mirrors his – even with his dying smile. He and I are thinking, What now?
Then Old Tortoise holds up his hook in surprise, I guess because he still has it. But he might as well throw it away.
There is no bait for the fish.
And then Brown Moss moves away from Eagle Eye and frowns at me. ‘What are you looking at?’
I say, ‘You are bleeding . . .’
She looks down and wipes the blood on her breasts and stomach. She stares at her dripping hand and shakes her head slowly. ‘It’s not mine.’ She turns to Eagle Eye and rolls him back.
He wakes up. ‘Yes?’
‘Oh,’ she says.
His chest and stomach are covered in blood.
‘What?’ There is blood dribbling at the corner of his mouth.
‘Nothing . . .’ She pulls him down on the bamboo and looks at The Wind. ‘Don’t just sit there. Give me something. The banana leaf . . .’
The Wind and Moonlight rip the leaf.
Eagle Eye stares at Brown Moss.
She glances at the deep opening on his chest and puts pressure on it with her fingers and thumbs to close it. ‘All right, you have been stabbed.’
‘Stabbed?’
‘That rotten bloody Crocodile spear. It’s gone and everything else.’
I remember that someone had yelled at the beginning of the storm. It must have been Eagle Eye.
He licks his lips to taste the blood. ‘Oh. So they got me after all.’
Brown Moss looks around. ‘Come on, paddle!’
Burnt Earth opens his hands. ‘What do we use for paddles? All the branches are gone. All of them.’
Brown Moss looks at Fast Fish for help but his mind is not on the raft. She shakes her head, pushes at The Wind and points at the remaining three little sticks from the bin. ‘Use those and the last of the banana leaves. Come on . . .’
The Wind moves towards the sticks but Fast Fish stops her.
‘You help Brown Moss.’ He looks at Burnt Earth and Old Tortoise. ‘Well, you heard the woman. Get on with it.’
I start to scramble towards a stick but Fast Fish grabs my foot. ‘I will do that. You stand up and see what you can find.’
I wobble up and put my hand on The Wind’s shoulder. The storm has gone but the sea is full of rolling swells and the raft is swaying, like being on a tall tree when the wind is blowing. I look around and the sea is nothing but surging swells.
Eagle Eye coughs, ‘Anything?’
‘Not yet . . .’ I look down and see Brown Moss, The Wind and Moonlight working over his chest with grass string and a fragment of banana leaf. His face is pale under their shadows, and he keeps on closing and opening his eyes. Fast Fish, Burnt Earth and Old Tortoise are pulling the sticks from the raft, but they are looking at me. Waterlily’s haunting eyes are locked. Everyone is depending on me now – my eyes.
I take my hand from The Wind, stretch up and stare at the sea. The swells are easy when you get used to the movement, but it’s very hard to see anything in that rough water. I have to look solidly at a spot in the sea for a long time so I can see beyond those rolling swells. I have to watch a swell until it moves away, then I can see that there is nothing there. There is movement on the raft and I can hear
splashing, but I can’t look down otherwise I will lose my spot in the sea.
‘Um,’ Burnt Earth says. ‘Which way now, back or forward?’
‘Why don’t you clamp down your bloody mouth?’ snaps Fast Fish. ‘That way.’ He points at the dim wash on the sun.
I can feel the raft surging a little towards the dim wash in the clouds. It is going forward.
I slowly turn to the spot where I started. I keep on going for a bit, just to make sure, and then I sit down. I try to look away from Eagle Eye’s dead eyes but I can feel them.
‘Nothing?’ he coughs.
I shake my head.
‘Nothing at all?’ Fast Fish glances at me. ‘No sign of the other rafts?’
‘No.’
‘Nothing that you can see, nothing like a coconut or branch or a piece of banana leaf? Nothing?’
‘I can’t see anything.’
‘And you didn’t see land.’
‘Leave him alone.’ Brown Moss snaps.
‘It’s finished,’ Eagle Eye mumbles, and he rolls his head side to side.
* * *
The next morning, the sea has calmed down, but that is the only good news. Old Tortoise has put a piece of Brown Moss’s strands on his hook, thrown it in and tied the line on his toe as Fast Fish holds up Burnt Earth to see anything that I may have missed. I wish that he finds something to catch me out, but he doesn’t. There wasn’t a thing to see then, and there isn’t now. Brown Moss and The Wind have almost stopped the bleeding in Eagle Eye’s chest, but he is bleeding inside and they can’t do anything with that.
Then I stand, hoping to see something, but there is nothing and I can’t get away from hearing the wheezing and bubbling. It is terrible to hear. Everyone except for Brown Moss and I are paddling with their hands, or with awful banana leaf paddles. Burnt Earth puts some slivers from the broken stick across the leaves, but they are feeble. I wish I could join them, to feel my muscles and hear my grunt instead of hearing Eagle Eye.
In the afternoon he retches blood; he closes his eyes but tries to talk weakly. He says, ‘I am so sorry . . . I destroyed you. Tribe Yam, Moonlight’s child, everything. Just silly old man with a stupid dream . . .’
The First Voyage Page 9