by Alan May
If all went well, they could just have everything ready for the Lloyd’s inspection in four days.
The rest of the staff and the Floaties were free to go ashore. The kids especially were champing at the bit to get off the ship and explore—and to call their parents.
As soon as customs and immigration had cleared them, Mac lowered the Zodiac into the water and began ferrying the Floaties, about ten at a time—Pierre’s cabin was in the first group—to shore. How many times now, Mac wondered, had he been to this most remote spot in the world? Och, he’d lost count by now.
He never tired of the place, though. Despite its subtropical climate, there was something about Easter Island that always put him in mind of the islands off the north coast of Scotland. They had the same rocky, treeless, windswept landscape; the same sudden changes in the weather, which could go with scant warning from misty drizzle to brilliant sun to driving rain; the same play of light and shadow against barren cliffs.
And even the Moai, those great mysterious stone statues, were they not, when one came right down to it, the kith and kin of the Standing Stones O’ Stenness or the Ring O’ Brodgar? Those unearthly monuments on Orkney, though much more ancient, sprang, surely, from the same human needs and desires that had given rise to the Moai. People were pretty much the same the whole world over, weren’t they?
“That Man to Man, the worr-uld o’er, Shall brothers be for a’ that.”
The words of the Immortal Bard had sprung to his lips unbidden. He looked up, feeling a bit silly, to find Dan and Evan and Chris regarding him with astonishment.
But Pierre grinned and, only a little off-key, took up the chorus:
“For a’ that, an’ a’ that, It’s comin’ yet for a’ that, That Man to Man, the world o’er, Shall brothers be for a’ that.”
Pierre shrugged.
“Caneff,” he said. “It was required to learn about Canada’s Scots heritage—even for us Québécois.”
The students’ first order of business once Mac dropped them off at the dock was to call their parents. The reaction of Pierre’s mother, Hélène, when he reached her in Québec, was typical. Kathleen Tutty had already talked to her and assured her that everyone on board was safe, yet her maternal radar remained keenly attuned, ready to pick up the slightest sign of stress or trauma in her son’s voice.
“But you are sure you are all right?” she asked, and asked again. “You are absolutely sure?”
When she was at last convinced that Pierre was vraiment unscarred by the experience—that his voice betrayed not the smallest hint of psychological damage—she gave him her blessing to continue the voyage. After all, she told herself, the whole episode had been a fluke, unknown in the entire history of the Blue Water Academy, and to imagine that any such peril would befall the ship again would be to give in to a foolish, irrational anxiety. She’d have liked to give her son a hug before he went on, but … C’est la vie.
Waiting for Melissa’s group to be ferried over, Pierre and his cabinmates went first to the “supermercado” near the town center. The shop was so tiny it was a squeeze for all four of them to fit inside, but they had been warned that Hanga Roa was the only place they’d be able to buy water and food to take with them as they explored the island. There were so many interesting things to see and do they hardly knew where to begin.
Dan, an avid photographer, bought a guidebook and read excerpts aloud as they walked to the artisan market near the church. For him, Easter Island was practically the Holy Grail of photographic opportunities, and he wanted to plan his itinerary with an eye toward getting to each site when the light would be at its most advantageous.
“Okay, we’re going to Te Pito Kura for sure,” he said. “Can’t pass up a shot of you guys with your hands on the Navel of the Universe! And it says here that the big stone there, the one that’s almost a perfect sphere, is made out of some magnetic rock not found anywhere else on the island.
“And of course we have to see Rano Raraku—that’s the main quarry. There are some Moai still attached to the rock—we’d better wait until early tomorrow morning for those; the light’s too high overhead now and all of the detail would be lost. There are other Moai lying around waiting to be moved to their ahus, those platforms they put them on. They got the red stone—man, look at that color!—for the hats some of the Moai wear—pukao they’re called—from another quarry at Puna Pau crater. And look at this!”
He stopped in his tracks, his companions reconfiguring themselves around him.
“Look at the size of this thing!” He pointed to a photo of a man standing next to one of the cylindrical topknots.
“If just the pukao is that much bigger than a man, imagine how big the whole statue must be! I mean, I know Dave told us some of them are huge—the tallest is almost seventy-two feet and weighs like a hundred and fifty tons—but wow! Maybe I should buy some more film.”
Dan continued to flip through the pages as they walked along, punctuating every few steps with another “Wow!”
“Well, this is what I have to see,” Evan said, as he paused in front of a colorful poster advertising a performance by a local group called Matato’a.
The photo showed a group of musicians looking at the same time both exotic and strangely familiar. They stood in typical rock band lineup, surrounded by the usual array of sound and lighting equipment, but more than half of the group was outfitted in traditional Polynesian style—nearly naked but for feathers, grasses, body paint in elaborate designs, and tattoos. Others wore blue jeans and baseball caps turned backward. Their music, the poster said, was a fusion of ancient Polynesian rhythms and modern latino, rock, pop, reggae, and jazzy, played on instruments ranging from electric keyboard to horse jaw.
Dan’s mind began to churn with the possibilities—a low-angle shot at slow speed to capture the awesome power and movement of the performance, then maybe some behind-the-scenes candids, with the wild-looking guys doing something thoroughly modern …
“As for me,” Pierre was saying, “there are rocks to climb and caves to explore and body surfing and—”
“I’m beginning to hope it’ll take a couple of weeks to fix the ship or we’ll never fit it all in,” Chris said.
As Melissa stepped out of the Zodiac, Pierre slipped the shell necklace he’d bought at the market over her head and bent over to kiss her cheek.
“Iorana,” he said, having just learned the rapanui word from the vendor. “It means bonjour.”
After a brief consultation, the group, with the exception of Nancy, who wanted to wait in Hanga Roa until Michael arrived, decided to rent bicycles and go first to Ana Kakenga, a cave just a short ride from town.
“It’s an ancient lava tube,” Dan told them. “It splits at the end into two ‘windows’ that overlook a steep drop down to the ocean. That’ll all be silhouetted no matter what time of day we get there, and then by the time we go on up the coast, the sun will be lower down and not so harsh. Perfect.”
Nancy gazed at the row of boats at the fisherman’s harbor, hoping Dan would give her a picture of it. There was no doubt in her mind he’d have taken one; how could he have resisted the repetition of shape in the ten or twelve little boats tied up at the dock, combined with their contrasting colors—red, yellow, blue, green, and red again—all set off against the azure water?
“I bet you’re thinking about Andy again, aren’t you?”
Michael’s voice came from just behind her left ear, startling her out of her reverie. She was further startled to realize that she had not been thinking about Andy—had not, in fact, thought about him in some time.
The realization made her feel slightly guilty. It was exactly what everyone had predicted would happen, and exactly what she had vehemently denied ever could. She had been so certain that she and Andy could weather any amount of separation. But it was not, she understood now, simply a matter of separation. So much had taken place since she had left home. She was a different person now, not at all the same
girl she’d been when she had begun the voyage. And Andy? Had he become a different person, too?
And either way, if he had or if he had not, would he be right for her now?
She turned and smiled at Michael, and put her hand in his.
At Anakena Bay, Dan rummaged through his camera bag in search of his polarizing filter while the others headed straight for the water. He would need the filter to keep the spectacularly clear deep cerulean sky from looking washed out on film. Anakena was one of two sandy beaches on the island, and Pierre and Melissa could hardly wait to dive in. This spot was the very image of a tropical paradise; but for the ahu with six standing Moai beside a grove of palm trees and several more toppled on the ground, they might have been anywhere in Polynesia.
The warm water felt delicious on Melissa’s skin. It was as if the serene sea were washing away all the tension that had accumulated in her body over the past days. She thought she had held up fine through all the stress, but as she floated, she could feel layer after layer of anxiety sloughing off and being replaced by a sense of blissful tranquility. She watched Pierre swimming a little farther out, his arms slicing through the water with strong swift strokes, and felt a small well of pure elation bubbling up from deep within her.
Pierre turned and swam toward her. He smiled and began to nudge her, wordlessly, like a playful dolphin, beckoning her to follow him. She laughed and ducked under the water, emerging behind him. Wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, she began to nudge him back, then abruptly pushed herself off. She dived under again, coming to the surface a few feet ahead of him. She flicked her thumb in the water, splashing him on the nose, and began to swim away, grinning at him over her shoulder.
Not to be outdone, Pierre soon overtook her. And so the game continued, the two swimming in tandem, one overtaking the other, oblivious to their companions and the passage of time, as if they were the only people in the whole world.
Red dust filled their nostrils as the Floaties and ship’s crew made their way to Orongo late in the afternoon of their last day on the island. All of them, at one time or another during their stay, had already visited this awe-inspiring site, which was perched on a thin ridge with a crater on one side and a heart-clutching thousand-foot drop into the Pacific on the other. Dan had gone two mornings in a row to try to capture the birdman petroglyphs here in the diffused light of the rising sun. Now they were all assembling to watch the sun set against the black basalt cliffs.
Easter Island, they all agreed, was the high point of their travels so far. This was partly because of the amazing nature of the place itself, and partly because of the intense and poignant pleasure they felt in anything and everything since finding themselves still alive after their harrowing experience.
Looking out at the three small islets just offshore, some tried to put into words what they had most enjoyed about their four days here.
For Captain Marzynski, who had set foot on land that afternoon for the first time since they arrived, leaving the boat in Henry’s capable hands, it was simply that the repairs had gone off without a hitch. All of the parts had arrived on schedule, all of the equipment was functioning normally, and all of the items on the Lloyd’s inspector’s list had been checked off as satisfactory.
For Melissa, the best thing was the incredible feeling of connection she felt with Pierre. She’d been attracted to him from the moment she met him, but the hijacking had strengthened their relationship. They had been each other’s emotional lifeline throughout the whole awful mess. It was only now, she reflected, that she was even beginning to understand the true meaning of a serious relationship. All this, however, wasn’t really the sort of thing she wanted to offer the group as the highlight of her stay on the island.
“Swimming at Anakena Beach,” she said.
Then Pierre immediately said the same thing, with an adoring look in her direction.
Dave, sitting between Anika and Mac, said he had been thrilled to learn something new about the long ears versus short ears controversy—to find that, in fact, although the ears of the Moai were of varying sizes, the theory that this was a reflection of a significant social denominator in Rapa Nui culture might well have been based on a mistranslation. He would have gone on at length about the subject but realized in time that this was not the moment to do so.
“What about you, Mac?” he asked instead.
But Mac was lost in his own thoughts. Strange it was, he’d been musing, that he’d been to this isolated island in the middle of an ocean on the other side of the world from his home far more times than he’d ever been to the isles of Scotland. He’d never made it to the Outer Hebrides, and there’d been only the one time to the Isle of Skye in the Inner Hebrides and then to Orkney. That time with Caroline …
Now then. Best not go down that road, he told himself. This is no time to be dredging up old sorrows.
“Mac?”
He became aware that Dave was speaking to him, and the entire group looking at him expectantly.
“What was your favorite thing about Easter Island this trip?”
“Och,” he said, blurting out the first thing that entered his mind. “Pisco.”
Several of the students became to titter. He was referring to the strong local beverage made from fermented grapes.
“Not bad once you get the taste for it,” Mac continued, oblivious to the captain, who was clearing his throat. “Of course I don’t recommend drinkin’ it straight. I suppose ye could, but I’d definitely no’ advise it.”
Now Anika was leaning over Dave and shaking her head at Mac.
“No, piscola’s what ye want, pisco and Coke …”
Suddenly aware of the efforts being made to shut him up, Mac changed tack.
“No, no. Just a wee joke, that, and a silly one. What I liked best this time is what I like best every time, watchin’ the young folks gettin’ their first peek at this amazin’ place. That and bein’ alive to see it again myself.”
Anika had been about to say that her favorite thing had been scuba diving off Motu Tautara—and that had been an extraordinary experience; the marine life was incredible, the water crystal clear. But now, as she watched the sun sinking low on the horizon, creating a dazzling array of pink, coral, and crimson above the sapphire sparkle of the sea, and as she looked around at the bright and eager faces of her students, the easy smiles of her colleagues, she said instead that this was her favorite, this moment right now, in this place of magical beauty, shared with all of them, and with the prospect of more fantastic places to come.
“Tahiti, Samoa, New Caledonia, Brisbane, Darwin, Bali … The names alone are exciting!” she said.
“Aye,” Mac said. Then, raising an imaginary glass in a toast, he added, “And here’s to smooth sailin’ to them all!”
(To be continued.)
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
for Book Clubs
1. One of the major differences between private and public education is class size. Do you feel it is an advantage to be in a class of eight versus a class of twenty?
2. On the ship, teachers are exposed to their students 24/7. How would you feel in this situation if you were a teacher?
3. Are there positives, from a student perspective, to the 24/7 exposure?
4. Do you feel there is an advantage to actually being in a new country to learn their culture as opposed to learning about it from a book?
5. Keeping in mind that the drug involvement is fictional, if you were a parent in this situation, would you want to be advised as the incident develops or after a successful conclusion?
6. If money was of no concern, would you enroll your children in such a program?
7. Discipline is an important part of the program. How would you have handled the students caught drinking in the Galapagos?
8. If your child was onboard the Inspiration during an incident like this, would you allow them to continue the program or would you want them to come home?
Table
of Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Preface
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Discussion Questions for Book Clubs