Let Us Be Brave

by Linda Thompson

  “Hey, Sam, come help me with these under the tree. They’re dry, not like the downed trees that are all sopping.”

  Sam dropped a wet branch in the pile under the shelter and followed Marie to the stately, healthy spruce tree. Soon chopping could be heard and Marie carried back a big branch while Sam continued to chop away under the layers of thick, dark green canopy. He didn’t even need his raincoat under there and soon tossed the bothersome thing aside. Marie continued to transport what he cut to the growing pile.

  Lillian returned with a wad of paper-like birch bark tucked under her arm in an effort to keep it dry.

  “Perfect. Exactly what we need to start the fire,” said Patrick. “We’ll need lots of kindling to get a fire started in all this rain.”

  After dropping the bark in a dry place, Lillian disappeared again.

  Within thirty minutes or so, the pile was taking over part of the shelter. Marie and Sam sat looking at it. Sam didn’t know how to start a fire.

  “We can’t build it under this shelter because then it might burn down. I’m not building a fire. Look,” said Marie. She showed her burned and scar-covered arm.

  “What happened to you?” asked Patrick.

  “I fell in a campfire at fish camp when I was little. I stay away from them.”

  “I know how to build a fire, but I can’t do it,” said Patrick. “If I tell you, will you build it before we light it?”

  “I guess, but I can’t,” said Marie.

  “Marie, you can. My hands can’t, but I know you can. Plus, your sister needs you to do it. It might help her. Okay?” said Patrick, half begging, half insisting.

  The tent was quiet for a long minute as she processed the conversation. “I guess,” she said guiltily. “But I’m not lighting it.”

  “But first, we need to put some kind of cover above the fire so the pouring rain doesn’t put the fire out and make a lot of smoke,” said Patrick. “I know you can do that, Marie. You did a great job on the shelter.”

  Marie stood still looking at him like nothing was registering.

  Shivering, Patrick said, “What about the little tarp? We could somehow stretch it out way above the fire, high enough that the smoke can blow through and the flames of a small fire won’t burn it. Maybe it should be about six to eight feet up. It’ll have to tilt down so the water will run off and not on the fire or in our shelter. It would be great if the fire could be close so we could enjoy it.”

  “How big is a foot?” asked Marie. Math wasn’t her strength.

  “Just get it higher than our shelter then.”

  Nicholi was listening to the conversation. “My duffel’s all empty.”

  “I oo” (Mine too), said Sam.

  “We probably don’t have anything in our bags, judging by the mess of clothes on the floor in here. Let’s clean up a bit before we do anything more. If we got our duffels out from under the tarp, we could put our stuff in them and only leave a few things out to sit on until tonight. Then we could empty them to make our beds again.”

  Sam went to the small tarp and started taking all the branches off and freeing the cover. He tossed everything left under it over to the shelter, making it more messy and crowded and cramped. He said, “Or air” (Your chair)?

  “It should go under that big tree to stay a little dry, not in here,” said Marie.

  “Great idea, Marie!” said Patrick. “Sam, could you put it under that tree?”

  Marie got out the heavy nylon cord and started to tie the ends to the small tarp. After putting her blanket raincoat on again, she went out and surveyed the trees nearby. Soon she came back under, whining, “I can’t.” She collapsed under the shelter and hid her eyes.

  Nicholi was back rocking again, making faces at the mirror.

  “Nicholi . . . Nicholi . . . Nicholi . . . ” Patrick called patiently hoping to get him back to reality. Lillian went over to Nicholi’s side, looked at him with her kind, loving eyes, took his hand, and started to rub it gently. Nicholi eventually stopped all the odd behaviors and stood still. He didn’t look at anyone, just stood looking off, averting his eyes. Slowly he moved his focus to his hand and the gentle stroking. He didn’t say anything, just looked.

  “Nicholi, we need you to help us put up another tarp so we can build a fire. Please help,” said Patrick kindly, his teeth chattering.

  Lillian took her blanket raincoat, put it on his head, and led him gently toward the side of the shelter where the little tarp had been deserted by Marie. Lillian took Marie’s hand and slowly pulled her up and out in the same direction after giving her another blanket. Once the two were out in the rain, they stood staring vacantly as if they didn’t understand.

  Lillian whispered to Nicholi, and he said, “Ha, I heard that. Lillian said, ‘You can.’”

  Lillian smiled joyfully.

  “If Lillian said that, it must be true,” said Patrick. “Marie, think about Helen. She needs to get warm. Maybe that would help her wake up.”

  She stood with the rain dripping off her face, looking at her sister. Eventually, as if seeing things differently, she picked up one rope and handed it to Nicholi. He stood looking at his hand as Marie stretched her end of the rope toward a high branch. Then she threw the long rope around the branch so it would be higher than the shelter and wrapped the end around the trunk of the branch. “Nicholi, please tie it off.”

  Nicholi dropped his end, walked over to Marie, and tied off one corner securely. Marie picked up another corner, attached the rope, and pulled it out. She found another high branch of a tree and tossed it over. Nicholi caught it, wrapped it around the tree, and tied it securely. It took a bit of finagling, but the two were able to rig up the other two corners so they also were high enough while securely swaying and flapping in the ever-blowing wind.

  “Great job, Marie and Nicholi. Sam, could you go find more big rocks for our fire pit? We don’t want to cause a forest fire. We need ten or twenty big rocks.”

  Sam started out of the tent in the direction of the beach. Nicholi followed his best friend, as did Marie. They returned several times, dumping rocks until they had enough. Lillian arranged the rocks in a circle for a base and mounded the birch bark in one spot inside the circle. Then she piled bits of dry spruce stems on top and small branches of spruce on top of that. She stepped back. Everyone looked at the possible fire pit.

  “Sam or Nicholi, you light the match,” said Marie. She dug in the survival bag and handed Sam the waterproof matches in their box.

  He looked at them and did nothing. Marie handed them to Nicholi. He looked at them, but didn’t strike one.

  “Nicholi, we need your help. You can do it. I know you can. Your dad smokes, so I’m sure you have seen him light a match.”

  “Mom said to never play with fire.”

  “Yes, but in this case, you’re not playing. You’re working. It’s like work experience at school. You know you don’t want to do it, but it’s part of your job. You can do this, so do it,” said Patrick.

  Everyone watched Nicholi until Lillian took a match and put it right in front of his face where he couldn’t miss seeing it. That must have been the right thing to do because he squatted down by the fire, struck the match on the box, and put the flame next to the birch bark at the bottom of the heap. Within seconds the bark ignited, and smoke wafted up to the fire tarp. Once the fire was started, Sam knew exactly what to do. He took pieces of wood, carefully surrounded the fire with them, and pushed them gently next to the baby fire, making sure not to smother or disturb it. Lastly he put crosspieces on top of the fire, hoping they would ignite. The ones that were very dry burned, but the ones that had been out in the rain for three days just sizzled and spit water, threatening to put the fire out completely. The smoke was thick, but it blew away to the west. They couldn’t feel the heat yet, but they were all anticipating being warm and dry. Patrick wanted to warm up, so he started pulling himself over by his elbows and rolling across the bumpy tarp toward the fire.

&nb
sp; “Hey, Sam, put the wet wood on the edge of the fire, so it can dry out a little,” said Marie.

  He didn’t respond.

  They all sat around transfixed, watching the flames quickly devour the birch and dried spruce branches. Sparks ignited and spruce popped loudly, shooting fire in all directions, causing Marie to step back behind Nicholi. The pile of wood rapidly declined as the fire established itself. Sam did nothing but watch.

  Marie continued, “Nicholi, could you put the wet wood on the edge to dry?”

  He was in a trance. The fire eventually burned down to coals. Marie wouldn’t get near the fire; Patrick couldn’t help; Nicholi and Sam just watched as all the wood disappeared.

  Patrick knew the fire would soon be out. “Time to get more wood,” he called.

  Lillian watched everyone. She was terrified of the fire. She missed her oil-burning stove. The sparks from the spruce were large, lashed out fast, and were scary. As the fire declined in size, she realized someone needed to help.

  Crawling over to Nicholi, who was now in a rocking trance of some sort, she lightly touched his hand. He gradually slowed down, finally stopped, and looked at it. She whispered the directive in his ear.

  Nicholi looked at her, thought about it, picked up the wet wood, and put it around the fire. Then he added more dry wood on top of the rapidly disappearing coals. The wood smoked a bit and then started to pop. After about ten minutes, the flames started again under one small log and slowly spread. They were short and smoky because of all the rain and moisture in the area, but they produced enough heat to feel for the first time.

  “I hate to say it, guys, but we need more wood,” said Patrick as he lay on his side, looking at the flames.

  Sam took that cue. He picked up the ax and hurried out of the shelter without a blanket-rigged raincoat. He headed directly for another large spruce tree, and soon the others heard the sound of chopping added to the sound of rain splattering on the shelter roof.

  After a few minutes Sam called, “Ma, Oli, mm el” (Marie, Nicholi, come help).

  Marie didn’t want to leave the fire. Nicholi was back to rocking and looking at his image on the mirror still tied around his neck.

  “You better go, so we can add more wood to the fire for Helen if she wakes up. She would be proud of you if she knew you had helped keep it going for her,” said Patrick.

  Marie picked up her blanket raincoat and left the dry safety of the shelter. “Nicholi, you need to help too.”

  He seemed to ignore her, but he did keep feeding wood to the fire. He was very careful when placing the wood, and Patrick never worried about him being careless or dangerous.

  As the fire built back up, Patrick’s shivering and teeth chattering slowed down and eventually stopped. “Thanks, Nicholi. I’m grateful you want to work with the fire.”

  Nicholi seemed to ignore him, but a small smile of pride appeared on his face.

  The sound of chopping and branches rustling continued. As Sam worked, holes appeared under the great stately tree. Marie hauled the branches over to the little tarp and put them on the downwind side to stay dry. They worked for at least a half hour, going from one tree to another.

  After they had a nice tall pile, they both sat down under the shelter, Sam next to the fire and Marie safely behind him.

  “Marie,” came a weak voice.

  “Helen, finally, you’re awake. I’ve been worried.”

  “Could I have a drink? My mouth feels like I’m growing fur on my tongue.”

  Marie quickly found her water bottle, picked up her big sister’s head and shoulders to support her, and slowly poured the water down her throat again.

  “It’s still rainy and windy. I can hear crashing waves.”

  Marie stood and looked toward the beach. “Yup. I’m glad I’m not in a skiff, helping pull in a set net out there. I’d get seasick.”

  Helen looked at Patrick. “Have you heard any rescue planes or boats yet?

  “No, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t been around. This storm is pouring rain on the shelter and the wind is flipping it around and making so much noise that it would be lucky if we heard anything else.”

  For the third day they stayed under the tent, avoiding the rain except when they had to go to the latrine or get wood or water. The mood was a little better with the warmth of the fire and the goal of trying to keep it going.

  Marie again brought out cards and, with their backs warmed by the fire, War was once again the favorite game until bedtime. Granola bars were passed around for all to munch on, but no one ate with gusto, only boredom.

  Chapter 12

  Acapella III

  Acapella III, a long, sleek white sailing yacht, had been docked in ice-free Juneau Harbor for the entire winter. The time had come for it to be released from its mooring and freed to head out across the North Pacific on a new adventure.

  Diane McDonald, an adventurous sailor, loved living on board her boat every summer. Her husband, Jack, had recently retired from university life at Annapolis and had similar interests. He had sailed around the world when he was right out of college and had dreamed for years of a repeat voyage. The two eagerly planned on sailing around the world now that they had the time. Their forty-five-foot boat was fully equipped with everything they could possibly need for the adventure. They had all the bells and whistles installed. They could travel pretty much anywhere as long as the water was deep enough for their hull.

  Sitting on maroon vinyl booth seats at the teak table in their beautifully designed galley, they peered down, studying the charts for their voyage, outlining where they were hoping to travel that summer. “Today, after we get out of Gastineau Channel and around Douglas Island, we’ll head north on Stephens Passage around Admiralty Island,” Jack said.

  “I think we should definitely go to Glacier Bay,” said Diane. “I understand the wildlife in the park is fabulous: lots of whales and black bears.”

  “All right, then we’ll head north and west toward Gustavus and Glacier Bay. We should be there tomorrow if the winds are good.”

  “I heard today at the grocery store that Gustavus Inn is a fabulous place to eat a delicious gourmet meal,” she hinted. “They raise all the vegetables in the inn’s garden and the seafood is all locally caught.”

  “Well then, looks like we won’t be cooking our first night there.”

  “After we spend time exploring Glacier Bay National Park, I think we should go to Yakutat and visit Axal Johnson, my old college buddy. He and his wife are both teaching there this year. It would be a great place to harbor up if the weather is rough.”

  “Better call first and see if they’re in town,” she said wisely. “They always go to the States to visit relatives for at least two weeks of their summer vacation.”

  “Where’s the adventure in calling? I’d like to check out both the harbor and the town even if they’re gone. I’ve been working, planning, and being on time for long enough. Now that I’m retired, I just want to see what each day has to offer.”

  “The waves on the Gulf of Alaska might give you the thrill of your life,” said Diane. “We’ll go by all the huge advancing glaciers.” She looked down at the maps and said, “The Malaspina and Guyot Glaciers, that’s their names. Want to bet we’ll see icebergs?”

  “We’ll see. If it isn’t safe to cross, we’ll just settle in some harbor and read some of our new books. Once we get over into Prince William Sound, though, it should be much safer and strikingly beautiful.”

  “Then on to Seward, where we can restock before heading to Homer.”

  “Homer? Why Homer? I was thinking we’d just head on around to Kodiak Island,” said Jack.

  “I’ve heard of beautiful Kachemak Bay and the little town of Homer for years. On top of that, one of your favorite college students, Mark Wenger, lives there. Wouldn’t you like to look him up on this trip? It isn’t that much out of our way, is it, Jack? Besides, you’re retired now and you don’t need to sail this boat like a bat
out of hell on this trip. Lighten up. I think stopping to visit Mark might be just what you need to slow down and learn to enjoy life. You’re not teaching at Annapolis anymore. We’re in Alaska and here to enjoy it.”

  “I suppose so. It would be fun to see him. The only timetable we need to be aware of is to be sure we make it through the Aleutians before the strong winds kick up in the fall. I really don’t want to spend the winter in Adak or Attu because of thirty-plus-foot seas.”

  “Getting out of the north before winter would be preferable.” She walked over to the stove and put on a pot of water for tea. “Well, let’s get this show on the road. Shall I fill a thermos of hot tea for us today?”

  “Sounds great. I’ll get everything secure on deck and then we’re off.” “And away we go.”

  Chapter 13

  Irene Gets Lost

  On the third day aboard the cruise ship, Irene woke up exhausted after a fitful night’s sleep. That was the way she was nowadays. She never slept well in any bed other than the one she had had for the last 25 years. It was bumpy, lumpy, and a mess, but it was part of home. She’d hoped it might be different on this trip, but it wasn’t. She might as well sit up all night and watch out the window as try to sleep, but her granddaughter, Danielle, had demanded she go to bed with lights off.

  Eight hours after lights-out Danielle woke up refreshed and happy. “I think I’ll go for a jog around the ship this morning, Grandma. There’s a deck just for runners.”

  “Fine with me, dear.” She would like a little time to be on her own anyway. Lately people seemed to think she was incapable of taking care of herself. That might be true, but she still liked to be left alone and allowed her independence. She sat up in bed and read the old newspapers they had picked up before they sailed.

  Soon Danielle had on her tight black running pants and jogging shoes. She swept her hair back into a loose ponytail and threaded the long, blond tresses through the hole in the back of a baseball cap. “I’m going to try to run at least a couple of miles, Grandma. I should be back in an hour or so. You sure it’s okay if I leave you here alone?”