She shook her head. “Too much damage. No fix.”
“If you say so.” Skypilot lifted the heavy, sodden barrel above his head and brought it crashing down upon a boulder. A barrel full of unbleached cotton fabric came spilling out.
“I suppose it will help keep us warm,” he said. “But that’s about all.”
“No, no.” She had already been thinking about what she would do if it held bedsheets instead of food. She lifted one of her braids to show him. “We do this. Long, long time. We make rope.”
Using her teeth to start the tear, she began to rip the sheeting material into wide strips. Then she started holding the strips to her nose and drawing them out as far as her arm would reach.
“What in the world are you doing now?” he asked.
“I measure. One yard. Katie show me how.”
“It’s one yard from your nose to the tip of your finger?”
“Katie say.”
“Well, if Katie says it, I’m sure it’s true.”
She thought sixty-five feet would be enough rope, and so she measured out enough yardage for each strand, tying on more strips when necessary.
When all the strips were finished and counted, she told Skypilot that they had enough fabric strips to do a four-ply braid. Then she showed both Skypilot and Isabella how to do it, spelling them in turn so that everyone’s fingers got a short rest.
After several hours of untangling and braiding, untangling and braiding, even Skypilot with his big hands had become somewhat of an expert. He discovered that it worked better for him to hold the makeshift rope between his knees, braiding outward as Moon Song or Isabella kept the end of the strips untangled.
Dawn broke and it was past noon by the time they had a rope finished and coiled at the base of the cliff.
Unfortunately, it was no longer the clear, calm day they had enjoyed yesterday before the explosion. Thunderclouds blocked the sun, and the lake took on an ominous cast.
Moon Song hurriedly cared for Ayasha before she left. She wished she still had her bundle of dried moss to pack the little fellow in, but all there was to use was the soiled moss from the day before, which had partially dried. The smell was getting bad. Hopefully, they would be able to find some fresh in an hour or two once they managed to make it to the top of the cliff.
Everything was in readiness. All she had to do was coil the rope around her waist and make that swim one more time, then she would walk to the top of the cliffs, make her way to a spot above them, and hope that they could climb up before the storm broke.
“I have a gift for you before you go,” Isabella said.
Moon Song could not see how Isabella could have a gift. They had nothing except the clothes on their backs and this rope.
Isabella pulled an apple from her pocket. “It isn’t much, but it might give you enough strength to do what you have to do.”
“Your stomach make hungry noise in night,” Moon Song said. “Why did you not eat?”
“I saved it for you. Right now you are the most important person here. You’re our only hope, Moon Song, unless a ship comes along, and if this storm that’s coming is a bad one, no ship is going to save us.”
Moon Song was impressed. “This is a thing our people do—sacrifice food for braves who hunt in winter.”
“Just eat it, and get us out of here, please,” Isabella said. “I don’t particularly want to live without my child, but I’d prefer not to spend what life I have left sitting on this pile of rock.”
Moon Song devoured the apple, eating well past the part that most people would have thrown away. The sweetness flowed into her mouth, juicy and delicious. She stopped just short of eating the bitter seeds.
“How did you just happen to have an apple in your pocket?” Skypilot asked.
“It’s a habit of mine from my Paris days. I’d sometimes get so engrossed in a scene I was drawing that I would forget to eat until I was suddenly ravenous. I’ve kept an emergency apple in my pocket ever since.” She gave a small smile. “I told you that I was a little odd. Remember?”
“Well, I’m grateful,” Skypilot said.
Moon Song glanced up at the threatening sky. “Help me wrap, please,” she said. “Before storm come.”
The rope had weighed about twenty pounds before she’d stepped into the water. Now, saturated with water, she estimated it weighed twice as much. She could not swim out in the clear without fear of sinking. This time, she worked her way around the cliff, resting from time to time by steadying herself with one hand on the rock wall while she kicked in place. Then she’d swim a few more feet. Twice the weight of the rope along with the increasingly large swells in the lake almost took her under.
She knew the waves probably meant the storm was already raging somewhere in the distance. Her position next to the cliff began to be a hazard as the height and strength of the waves increased. She had to fight not to be battered against the rock face.
Time after time she was slung against the cliffs. The force wasn’t yet great enough to destroy her, but it began to take on a desperate rhythm. As the wave would go out, she would claw her way, kicking, across the face of the cliff. Then the wave would come crashing back, and she would flatten herself against the cliff face, holding her breath until the wave pulled away. A few more inches, another wave. A few more inches, another wave. She felt like a piece of driftwood being pounded again and again against the rock—except this piece of driftwood was not helpless. It had arms and legs and could effect a little bit of movement toward her goal—that blessed fissure in the rock she had discovered last night.
At long last, there was a wave that knocked her, sprawling, onto an extremely narrow, rock-strewn beach where she lay facedown, panting. Then she scrambled up and away from the next wave that she knew would come crashing down over her.
Her leather clothing sagged. The heavy rope dragged at her, but she headed toward the opening in the cliff and began her ascent. The lake was even emptier than it was yesterday. Most of the flotsam had either sunk or been washed away.
Lake Superior could gobble a life or dozens of lives in an instant during a storm, then a few hours after the storm passed, exhibit nothing but crystal-clear water. Much like a person who has done great wrong but is determined to hide it behind a sparkly façade.
She loved this lake and she hated this lake. Right now, as the storm clouds darkened, she hated it. If she couldn’t get the people who were depending on her out of there soon, the nightmare she had dreaded would begin as the waves rose and began to wash over the small piece of land.
She held the rope tightly where it was wrapped around her waist, grateful for the good knot that Skypilot had tied. Lumbermen tended to know how to tie good knots.
The moment she got to the top of the cliff, she began to trot toward her goal. It was impossible to run. She had to keep a sharp eye on where the edge was. She was sure that there had been more than one person or animal who had accidentally gone over these dangerous cliffs and been dashed to their deaths.
Finally she spied the tree growing at the top of the cliff where they had been trapped. It was an unusual tree, strangely misshapen and twisted by the wind. She had focused hard on it this morning, wanting to have a landmark.
She caught sight of the tree just as she heard the rumble of distant thunder.
“It is taking too long!” Isabella shouted. “Something has happened to her.”
She had to shout because the crashing of the waves had increased and normal conversation was impossible. He and Isabella were as far away from the water as they could get, but even against the cliff, the waves were washing over their ankles. If this turned into a real thunderstorm, he didn’t even want to think about how bad it would get.
“She’ll make it back to us or die trying!” he yelled.
“That’s what I’m afraid of!”
At that moment, something fell against his shoulder. He glanced up and saw the rope he had so laboriously braided lying against the rock fa
ce beside him.
Moon Song was peering over the cliff, motioning them to come up. They had discussed the kind of knot she would have to make around the tree, and he had had her practice it until she was proficient.
“She made it!” he told Isabella and pointed upward. “Are you ready?” He had the rope in his hand, ready to tie it around her.
“I don’t think so.” She stared up at the cliff face.
“Why? If it’s going to break, it will be with my greater weight.”
“True, but I’m not sure I have the strength to pull myself up. Drawing pictures doesn’t exactly make one physically strong. I might need you to be at the other end of that rope to help.”
He gave this some thought. She made a good point. “All right, but tie the rope around your waist when I throw it back down—don’t depend on your hands being able to grip it.”
Moon Song had made a small bundle of the leftover sheet material before she left, which he now tied around his own waist. The nights were going to be cool. They all knew that they could use what little warmth the sturdy material could afford.
Isabella helped secure Ayasha and the cradle board on his back. Thus encumbered, he began his climb.
He felt the rope stretch as he began to work his way up the cliff. He thanked God for the very slight incline that made it possible to gain just a little traction and not have to rely entirely upon his upper body strength. He prayed every step of the way that the rope would hold, that the knot would hold, that Moon Song had tied it the way he’d shown her.
The jerky way he had to make his way up the cliff with the wind buffeting them made the normally happy baby wail with fear. Ayasha’s cries melded with the howl of the wind. Skypilot had to use every ounce of strength he had to muscle his way up.
By the time he got to the top, a light rain had begun and the sound of thunder was growing closer. In the far distance, he saw a crackle of lightning.
“We need to go.” Moon Song was lying on her belly, peering over the cliff edge. “You think white woman can do this?”
He inspected the rope and the tree around which it was tied, and tested the security of the knot. “I guess we’ll see.”
He threw the end of the rope as far out as he could and watched it drop near Isabella. She wrapped it around her waist twice, tied it, then looked up at him and gave it a tug.
Isabella was not a small woman. She was about four inches taller than Moon Song, and even though well proportioned, she was at least 50 pounds heavier. He was guessing he would be pulling a load of about 160 pounds if the woman couldn’t help herself.
They watched as she started the difficult climb to the top. It was a false start. She’d barely gone three feet before she dropped to the ground again.
“What is she doing?” Skypilot was appalled. The storm was intensifying.
“Long skirt,” Moon Song pointed out. “No good for climbing.”
She was right. Isabella took the front of her skirt and tucked the edges into the rope that was wrapped around her. Freed from stepping on the material, she began the ascent again.
He saw immediately that she was as weak as she had feared. She did not have the strength to go hand over hand as he had done. About all she had was enough strength to hold on. He handed Ayasha to Moon Song and began to pull, throwing his weight against hers by leaning backward. It reminded him of a tug-of-war where the opponents are equally matched.
“Pull!” Moon Song was peering over the cliff. “She try to help. Rock very wet now. Her feet slip.”
He could feel his arms nearly jerked out of their sockets each time she slipped.
He heard Isabella scream.
“Is she hurt?” he asked.
“No. She scared,” Moon Song said. “She slip. It scare her.”
“I don’t know if I can do this.” He grunted with the effort.
Moon Song stopped watching the cliff’s edge, propped Ayasha against a tree, and began to put her strength and weight into helping him. She was not a big force, but she was a force, and even her slight body helped. By the time they saw Isabella’s face appear above the cliff edge, the storm was intensifying. She crawled onto the floor of the forest that rose around them and lay there, hugging the ground, gasping for breath, while the wind began to whip the lake into a froth. The lightning Skypilot had seen in the distance worked its way closer, and a hard torrent of rain began to pelt them. He saw Ayasha gasp from the shock of the cold rain against his face.
“No time!” Moon Song said. She jerked Isabella to her feet and untied the rope from around her waist. “We go!”
Skypilot couldn’t have agreed more. “Absolutely, we go!”
While Moon Song grabbed up Ayasha’s cradle board, he gathered the rope into a tight bundle, and he and Isabella followed Moon Song.
Moon Song seemed to know exactly where she was going, and yet where she was leading them didn’t make sense to him. They should be headed downhill into the woods, where there would be danger but also at least some semblance of shelter. Instead she was trotting along the edge of the cliffs. Did she not know that it was best to seek low ground during a lightning storm?
“Moon Song!” He pointed. “We should be going that way!”
She waved him off and kept going.
At last they arrived at the place where Moon Song had been headed. She sat down on the ground and began to scoot down a long incline. He could see the waves crashing high against the rocks now. Just then, Moon Song ducked beneath a rock overhang off to the side of the path. The elements had carved out a cave-like hollow in the side of the cliff.
“In here!” she shouted.
She didn’t have to tell him and Isabella twice. They ducked in, panting, and collapsed onto the ground. After he got his breath, he realized that they not only had shelter that a lightning strike would not penetrate, they also had a ringside seat to the most awe-inspiring sight he had ever seen. Lightning flashed, bolt after bolt, putting on a display that rivaled any fireworks show. It was like sitting in a balcony while a great performance went on before their eyes.
Best of all, they were finally in a dry place. In fact, it was so dry, the combination of earth and sand where rain never fell created a soft, dusty surface for them to sit upon. With all his heart, he praised God for the shelter. A few minutes more, and it would have been terrible to be outside.
None of them said a word as they sat there, catching their breath. Then Moon Song began to hum softly and rock her baby while they all watched the lake beat itself into a frenzied foam at the shoreline, as though it were a mad dog turning upon itself.
If a ship didn’t come soon, he had no idea what he was going to do with two women, a baby, and no food. But at least they were alive.
10
Moon Song had observed that white people only slept at night. Someone who slept during the day, unless ill or a child or an old person like the camp cook who had worked with Katie, was considered lazy.
She had learned differently from her people, especially her grandfather, a great hunter, who grabbed snatches of sleep when the animals were sleeping, the better to be alert and ready when it was time to hunt. She, too, had trained herself to fall instantly asleep, and to be just as instantly awake.
There was not one thing she could do until the rain stopped. Then she would go see what the pantry of the countryside had in store for them. Thanks to Grandmother, there were few plants for which she did not know the medicinal or edible use. Early spring was not the best time to go foraging, but if one knew where to look, one could almost always find something. And so, reasonably content beneath the sheltering rock, she curled up in the velvety dust and fell sound asleep to the sound of waves crashing on the rocks below.
Visions of stewed squirrel or rabbit, perhaps some roasted fish, accompanied her into the oblivion of sleep.
“How can she do that?” Isabella asked.
“How can she do what?”
“Sleep like that, in the midst of all that is going on.�
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“I guess she’s tired,” Skypilot said. “She’s worked harder than both of us.”
“I know, but she’s smiling in her sleep.”
“Maybe she’s having a pleasant dream.”
“Under the circumstances, I would think she should be having nightmares. How are we going to get out of this mess?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Do you have any idea how far away we are from a settlement?”
“My best guess is sixty, maybe seventy miles. I heard the captain say that a place called Marquette was the next stop.”
“And we’re going to walk?”
“Unless you have a better idea.”
“What about food?” She had unpinned her hair and was now wringing out the rainwater as though wringing out a washrag. “How are we going to eat?”
What did he look like, a magician? He said the first thing that came to his mind. “I’ve heard of people surviving on grubs and worms.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“I agree, unless that’s all you have.”
“Certainly you can do better than that.”
“Me? I have no idea, but I’m hoping that girl over there who is smiling in her sleep knows a thing or two. I suggest we stop talking and let her get her rest so she can be clearheaded when she wakes up. In fact,” he said as he lay down on his side, “it might be wise to follow her example. There’s nothing we can do right now.”
“I won’t be able to sleep a wink.”
“Suit yourself. I’m worn out.”
He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep while she rustled around, trying to get comfortable.
“This is miserable.”
“Not as miserable as being in the lake.”
He felt sorry for the woman, but there wasn’t a thing he could do for her. He fell asleep to the sound of thunder.
Moon Song awakened in the morning to a clear day. Only the drip, drip, drip of water off the lip of their cave-house shelter gave any indication of the deluge they’d endured last night. No one else was stirring—not even Ayasha.
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