Let Us Be Brave

by Linda Thompson

  While the other three stayed together at the low tide line, Lillian found a chunk of old fishing gear on the beach. It was all balled up in knots, but she patiently unknotted the mess from the beach trash, lead line, and cork line. She also found some bent sticks of willow that were flexible enough for her to make a hoop. She lashed it with net string to a straight stick of driftwood that would be the handle and had the framework of a dip net.

  Marie watched her working and finally said, “Can I help you sew the net to the hoop?”

  Lillian looked directly at her and smiled. The two young ladies patiently tied each mesh of the net to the willow hoop and then closed up the back end so the fish wouldn’t escape. It took more than two hours.

  Sam hadn’t caught anything, and Nicholi still sat rocking gently and playing with his mirror. He found he could bounce sunlight off the mirror and shine the light directly on objects he was interested in. He lighted up areas behind rocks and studied the barnacles. With the low tide, the shelled animals were closed tightly, but were still fun to explore. He walked over to a tide pool and did the same thing. He found the light bounced differently and wasn’t as intensely focused. For fun, he started reflecting the sunlight on the trees on shore. It was hard to reflect it to the north, but much easier to aim it out on the water. He was quiet and focused, with no rocking, as he explored what he could do with the mirror.

  Lillian went to the edge of the water and dropped the new net in the water. The handle was too short, but the water was deep at that point and it worked. She kept it facing downstream, and since the tide had turned, the incoming water kept the net open. Marie watched her patiently. Suddenly Lillian was being pulled into the water.

  “Lillian, you need help!” Marie screamed.

  Lillian was too busy trying to control the net to answer her. Marie bolted off the rock she was sitting on and was quickly at Lillian’s side. The net barely stayed together as the two dragged three fighting eight-pound salmon to shore. The fish were making a mess of the net, flipping over and over again, entrapping themselves even more in the meshes as the fought to get back in the water. The handle the girls had lashed onto the hoop wasn’t strong enough to handle all the thrashing. Lillian tried to hit the fish on the head with a stick, but kept missing. She didn’t want the meat to get bruised. The fish kept floundering in the sandy rocks and mud. Nicholi finally dropped his mirror, came over, took the stick from Lillian, and bonked them hard once each. They finally were still. Lillian untangled the net from the fish, pulled the gills, and let the fish bleed out. She put them in a little tide pool after tying them together with a chunk of net mesh.

  “I’ll try now,” said Nicholi. “This looks better than fishing with a hook.”

  Back at the cabin, Helen and Patrick had a long day ahead. Patrick couldn’t do much but sit and watch out the window. Helen lay on the bed and read a book on birds to him. The time slowly passed.

  “Helen!” Patrick screamed.

  She had fallen asleep.

  “I can see a big ship out in Cook Inlet heading across the water towards our side.”

  Helen popped up and was instantly so dizzy she had to stop and close her eyes until her equilibrium settled down. When she opened her eyes again, she focused on a large two- by three-foot mirror that was hanging on the wall beside the door.

  “Patrick, I have an idea. If we get that mirror down, we could signal the ship.”

  Patrick tried to roll his chair over to the mirror, but soon realized it wouldn’t work.

  Helen grabbed two wooden high-backed chairs that were in reach of the little bed and pulled them over to her side. She put her hands on the backs of them, closed her eyes, and slowly stood up, bracing herself to keep from falling. She was weak, weaving from side to side and front to back, but she stayed upright. When things seemed stabilized, she opened her eyes and looked at the mirror. Slowly she moved her makeshift crutches toward it.

  “Man, am I a mess. I need to comb my hair before we get rescued, that’s for sure.”

  “Helen, you’re gorgeous even when you’re a mess. No worries on that front.”

  “You’re such a wonderful young man, Patrick.”

  She struggled to get the mirror off the wall, but it was heavy and she had to keep one hand on a chair back to support herself. Eventually Patrick managed to move the three feet from the window to the mirror and put his chair right under the mirror for her. He reached up with his jerky, spasmodic arms and put his hand on the bottom of the mirror to help push it up off the hook support. With Helen steadying it, the mirror inched up the wall. Once it was free, they lowered it to Patrick’s lap and leaned it against his chest and face. Patrick held onto it with his vice-grip strength. There was little chance it would fall. Helen held onto the chair arms for support, and with her eyes closed she inched slowly around Patrick’s chair to the back and grasped the handles. When the dizziness subsided again, she slowly pushed him and the mirror back to the window.

  “I think the windowsill’s low enough we can reflect the light right off your chair. We might lose a little, but if someone’s looking this direction, they might see it. We’ve got to move fast.” She made her best guess as to what angle to hold the mirror so it would reflect toward the ship and started the only signal she knew: SOS. The ship was traveling fast and was almost out of view behind the trees, but they still tried.

  “Dot, dot, dot; dash, dash, dash; dot, dot, dot; dash, dash, dash . . .” Helen said as she moved the mirror rhythmically in Patrick’s lap. The ship’s bow started to disappear into the trees. Hurriedly, “Darn, it’s almost gone already. Dot, dot, dot. Dash, dash . . . . That’s it; all gone,” she said with disappointment in her voice.

  “But at least we did something,” he said. “I’ve been trying for days to figure out ways to signal for help. I couldn’t get the others to work on a log SOS on the beach. They didn’t understand the purpose or want to work on it. Then with the high tides, the volcano, and the strong windstorms, no one came around anyway.”

  “If they had done anything, it just would’ve washed away. It’s obvious now, though, that we’re going to have to be more aggressive in pursuing signals. If the ships are sailing over to the Iliamna Lake haul road, which is west of us, the predictions for the volcano must be better. That’s a good sign.”

  “But by the time everyone gets back from fishing, it’ll be too late. There’s no reason for building a log signal on the beach today. The tides are huge this week and will soon be lapping in our old campsite if the wind is blowing. It’s sure a good thing we moved into this cabin. Lillian and Nicholi saved my bacon. I’d be so sick if we were still outside. I don’t think my lungs could have handled the ash out there. We’ve been rreally careful to avoid exposing me to the stuff, but it still somehow got to me.” Patrick tried to cough, but it was a weak cough, more like clearing his throat instead of his lungs.

  Helen held the mirror for him, and he tried to force air out without much success. When he was done, she said, “Maybe we should put the mirror on that little end table where we can slide it back on your lap if another ship comes by.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Helen turned and pushed the chair slowly toward the table on the other side of the window. The two of them worked together to clear the table of knickknacks and finally slid the signaling device onto the tabletop. “There, that should do it: safe but easily accessible for the future.”

  “I’m going to try to walk back to bed. Let’s see if I can.” After getting her body facing in the direction she needed to travel, she let go of the chair. With her arms spread wide for balance, she took one halting step at a time. She wove from side to side and front to back like a drunk but continued to make progress across the floor. It was only about fifteen feet, but might as well have been a hundred. Halfway there, she stopped and just tried to balance herself on another chair. Once stabilized, she continued on her way and finally made it to the bedside where she collapsed, exhausted. She hadn’t realized how
weak she had become.

  “You did it, Helen! That’s great!” Patrick exclaimed.

  “I must be getting better. There’s no way I could’ve done that even yesterday.”

  The fish were really starting to come up the inlet and into the bay to the west of the cabin. Since they had fish on shore, Lillian let the others hold the dip net and she started to cut and split the meat to be hung to dry. They couldn’t eat it all fresh since they had no refrigeration. Nicholi and Sam took turns dipping while Lillian cleaned them. At the end of the day they had seven fish to carry up the hill to dry. After splitting them at the creek in the traditional way with the meat scored, deboned, and left on the skin; they each took two fish by the tail. Tiny Lillian could only carry one as they hiked back up to the cabin.

  They noticed that the leaves of the trees seemed a little greener that afternoon because the ash wasn’t as thick on them. The air still had the grey sparkles flying around, though, and as they walked, they stirred up the ash on the ground. Their pants were wet from their activities, and the ash clung to their clothes.

  Once back at the cabin, Lillian made sure Nicholi flopped six of the fish over spruce pole racks in the smokehouse with their tails up and the skin out. The scored meat hung down off the skin under the poles, allowing the air to flow around as much of the meat’s surface as possible.

  “Why that way?” asked Marie.

  “Dry skin. Make tough.”

  “Sam small fire,” said Lillian as she pointed to the floor.

  “Why?” asked Marie.

  “I know,” said Nicholi, “to lightly cook while we smoke and dry the fish.”

  “You right,” whispered Lillian, “tonight, dry skin, some meat. Tomorrow, flip.”

  “What she say?” asked Marie.

  Everyone ignored her.

  Sam got kindling from the woodshed and started a small fire. After a few minutes it started burning too hot, according to Lillian, so she spread the wood out with a stick. She put a chunk of metal roofing on top of the smoky fire to disperse the heat and smoke around the little smokehouse. She wanted a lot of smoke to keep the flies off while the fish had a chance to dry.

  “Look good.” She closed the door and hooked the latch. Bears won’t get ’em now. She had a determined look. It make me mad when they steal fish.

  They all went in the main cabin with the last fish, which they had kept for dinner.

  “E ot en” (We caught seven fish)! Sam screamed as they barged in the door, bringing in a cloud of ash on their clothes.

  Helen was standing up. She was a little tipsy, but she was independent. “Let’s have fried salmon for dinner,” she said enthusiastically. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. Tomorrow I think we should have salmon pie.” She walked with her hands out, weaving like she was drunk, over to a chair and sat down. After a few seconds she said, “Ah, that feels better.”

  “First, all of you go down to the creek and wash up. You’re a mess.”

  The four fishermen were out the door instantly, kicking up the ash that was still on the porch.

  Helen had kept a small fire in the cookstove all day, so it wasn’t long after they returned before the stove was hot and the salmon was popping away in the oiled cast iron fry pan. Everyone was salivating over the smell. They opened a couple of cans of mixed vegetables and plopped the can right on top of the stove to heat. They found a large can of peaches for dessert and opened it.

  “If anyone wants bread, there are a few leftover pancakes from breakfast,” said Patrick as he tried to help by setting the table. It was a struggle, but he did manage to get a few pieces of silverware in the vicinity of each plate. Marie had made sure there were six plates and glasses of filtered water.

  They later sat around burping the good food, all of them a little sleepy.

  “Patrick, want to help with dishes tonight?” asked Helen.

  “Yeah, I can help with that,” he said enthusiastically.

  Helen told Marie how to set up a dishwashing station at the table. It was the right height for Patrick’s chair to roll under so he could try to help. His eyes lit up at the prospect of being able to do his share of the chores, but as soon as his hands got in the water, his muscles went spastic and he accidently splashed it everywhere. He wanted to help so much, but he was making a big mess.

  Marie started to yell at him for messing up the kitchen, but Helen mouthed silently, “It’s okay. Let him go.”

  He was so happy, and the floor could easily be mopped. Everyone else had gotten out and had fun, but he was stuck in the cabin. Then he started coughing worse than earlier. The ash definitely was lodged in him, possibly from his last trip to the outhouse or from everyone’s clothes as they went in and out. It was amazing that he had managed to stay healthy for three days before developing any problems. Patrick didn’t have a strong cough that could clear out foreign materials like a normal person. His lungs were weak. He only used a portion of them to breath in normal situations, and he wasn’t healthy enough to clear out garbage like ash that managed to find lodgment. It had been a long, tiring day for him, and the only thing he had managed to do independently was cough. He was happy that his friends had enjoyed themselves outside, but outside was deadly for him.

  Everyone watched him with fear in their eyes. They all remembered that the last time he had coughed like this it was pneumonia and he had to be flown to the hospital in Homer for a long stay.

  When he was done trying hard to cough it out and involuntarily making a mess splashing water in the dishpan, Marie, at Helen’s direction, solemnly pulled him away from the table. Then she and Sam quietly volunteered to finish the dishes. Lillian was so exhausted; she was asleep sitting up in the chair. Nicholi was looking out the window at the smokehouse and periodically talking to his hand again.

  “Nicholi, if you see any fishing boats or ships, tell us fast. Okay?” said Helen.

  Nicholi nodded his head. “I don’t want to ever ride in a plane again.”

  “What?” asked Patrick. “We have to ride in planes or we’ll be stuck in Pebble Lake forever. Well, not really, the ferry does stop by once a month.” He started coughing again and had a hard time stopping. Once he could speak again he said, “I’m ready to fly out of here right now ’cause I’m done camping out and want to go anywhere I can.” He was tired of being trapped in the manual chair in the little cabin. The coughing was the last straw. He wanted to be like everyone else. He knew that wasn’t his lot in life, but he still secretly wanted a life of normalcy. At least he had Helen; she had helped him pass the time by lying in bed and reading entertaining books off the shelf. Even she seemed to be getting better, though, and would probably soon leave him to his own devices too. He continued to cough. Life wasn’t fair sometimes.

  Knowing there was nothing she could do to help Patrick’s cough, Helen changed the subject. “Your duffels are looking flat again. We’re going to have to do laundry tomorrow, looks like, since we only packed for a weekend trip,” said Helen. “Put on the last of your clean clothes tonight to sleep in. You know the routine. I think Nicholi and Lillian should have a try at it tomorrow since Sam and Marie did it last time.”

  “Are we going to have to stay here forever?” asked Nicholi.

  Sam looked sadly at Helen as he waited for an answer.

  “I doubt it, but we might as well live like we are. It’s a good thing it’s summer and there’s a wealth of food outside. Thank you all for fishing today and feeding us. If the bears don’t get it, we have lots to eat now. We’ll all need to do chores every day until we’re rescued. A routine for all of us will help while we wait. Tomorrow it’s laundry and steam bath day again, and we need to build an SOS sign on the beach.

  Chapter 31

  Almost to Homer

  “Danielle? Danielle?” called Irene. She was sitting on her balcony, watching ragged peaks and sea-battered rocks of the rough coastline go by. There was little snow left on the south-facing slopes, and the coastline was clear of tree
s. The tide was high and the waves were splashing on the rocks, creating beautiful water displays as they traveled around the southernmost reaches of the Kenai Peninsula. They had been in Seward and peaceful Prince William Sound during the day, but now, late at night, they were in the open North Pacific Ocean. The following morning the ship would make port at Homer, Alaska, for another day’s adventures.

  Danielle opened the sliding glass doors to the balcony a little wider and stepped out with her grandmother. “Brr, it’s cool out here. Are you warm enough, Grandma Irene?”

  “Certainly, darling. After all, if Michael Vaughn can live up here all year around, I can certainly stand a few days in summer. I’m so looking forward to seeing him when we get to Anchorage in three days. In the meantime, we have Homer to think about. I really want to go on an excursion to watch bears. According to this brochure, we can fly across Cook Inlet and see the largest grizzlies ever. I think it would be wonderful. I’ve dreamed about seeing bears in the wild, free of the kind of bars and moats they have in the San Diego Zoo. What do you think? Would you like to go?”

  “But Grandma, it costs a fortune per person, over $500 each. Can we afford it?”

  “I am eighty-nine years old, and I’ll probably never get to go on a trip like this again. I’ve been dreaming of this trip for so long, and finally we’re here. I’m going to see the bears tomorrow, and if you had any common sense, girl, you would go with me.”

  “Grandma, I’d love to go.”

  “Why don’t you see if your handsome boyfriend, Nathan, wants to go too? Maybe if he went, you’d be even more interested.”

  “Oh, Grandma, I am interested, I just don’t want to waste your money . . . and he isn’t my boyfriend, just a friend.”

  “Whatever, dearie,” she said as if she knew better. “Just call him and see. Maybe we could travel together in the plane.”

  “I’ll do it. In the meantime, do you need anything: a blanket, hot tea before bedtime?”