by Ruth Chew
Overhead the clouds were pink. A wood thrush sang in the dusk. The bird had such a lovely trill that Sarah wanted to stand still and listen to it. But they had to get out of the woods before dark. She hurried after the others.
The hills dropped down to salt marshes near the shore. The children walked through long grass. They had to step on stones and fallen logs to keep out of the bog.
By the time they reached the water the sky was beginning to get dark. Beaver led them to a little inlet. A heap of driftwood and tangled grass was piled up near a sand dune. The Indian boy lifted a twisted piece of wood from the pile and brushed aside an armful of grass. “Help me.”
Sarah pulled off two branches from the pile. Timothy scraped away a mixture of vines and weeds. Under everything was a canoe made from a hollowed-out log. There were paddles that looked like scoops inside the canoe.
Together the three children pushed the heavy dugout across the sand. They slipped out of their moccasins and tossed them into the canoe. Then they shoved the canoe into the water and waded in after it.
When the canoe was in deep enough water to float without scraping the bottom, Timothy and Sarah climbed into it. Beaver gave the canoe a shove before he got in. He picked up a paddle and sent the canoe skimming out into the bay.
Timothy and Sarah paddled as hard as they could. They weren’t used to the funny scoops. The canoe was very low in the water. But it glided along at a good speed.
The sky was almost black now. Stars began to show between the moving clouds. Beaver paddled toward a bright spark in the darkness. It was the pirates’ campfire. Beaver used it as a beacon to guide them to the island.
For a long time the light from the campfire never seemed to come any closer. Sarah’s arms were tired. She felt they had been paddling for ages. But she kept on lifting the paddle and pulling it through the dark water.
Then, far off, she heard music. Someone was strumming a guitar. The pirates were singing. As the children paddled, the sound came closer and closer.
The campfire was at one end of the island. After a while the children were close enough to see that the pirates were all gathered near the fire. Sarah couldn’t see any Indians. Maybe the pirates had put them on their ship, Sarah thought. She looked over to where the tall-masted ship was outlined against the sky. A lantern swung near the stem.
Beaver turned the canoe. He paddled around to the end of the island farthest from the campfire. When the canoe was close to the shore, the Indian boy stepped into the shallow water. He signaled to Sarah and Timothy to get out of the canoe, too.
The children dragged the dugout onto the beach. Beaver reached into it and took out the moccasins. They put them on and walked silently around the island on the soft sand of the narrow beach.
They crept closer and closer to the pirates. Soon they could hear them laughing and talking. But the trees were in the way. The children couldn’t see into the camp.
“Wait here for me,” Sarah whispered to Beaver and Timothy. “I’ll find out what’s going on.”
In the darkness she took off the leather skirt and jacket. She left them with the moccasins near a big rock on the beach and waded into the water.
Sarah swam around the island to where she could see the campfire. She kept under the water most of the time. Once in a while she stuck her head up for air and to take a look at the pirates. Beaver had told her palefaces never went into the water. The pirates would not expect anybody to be swimming in the bay. If they saw her, she hoped they’d think she was some sort of fish.
A long wooden boat was pulled up on the beach. About twenty rough-looking men were near the fire. The man with the guitar was sitting with his back against a tree. A number of the men were drinking out of mugs. Some were singing. Two were doing a funny dance together.
At first Sarah thought there were no Indians there. But then she saw them lying on the ground near the trees. There were four of them, and they were very still.
Two of the pirates walked over to the Indians. The shorter pirate pulled an Indian girl to her feet. The girl looked about twelve years old. Sarah saw that the girl’s hands and feet were tied. She stood as well as she could in front of the pirate.
The music had died down. The guitar player was taking a drink. Sarah heard the pirates talking about the Indian girl.
“This one ought to turn out to be a housemaid, Tom.”
“Maybe,” Tom answered. “But Indians are not good servants. I don’t think the captain will find a buyer for her, Jake.”
“Why don’t we just turn the whole lot of them free, then?” Jake asked.
“You’d better not let the captain hear you talk like that,” Tom said. “He’s a stubborn cuss. I’m glad he stayed aboard ship tonight.”
The Indian girl stood in front of the two pirates. She didn’t say anything. Jake looked at her again. “Sit down, lass,” he said. “Sometimes I wish I’d never gone to sea.” Jake walked over to a fallen log and sat down on it. He pulled a pipe out of his pocket and began to fill it with tobacco from a leather pouch at his waist.
Tom took his empty mug over to a keg of rum on the beach.
Sarah was beginning to feel cold in the water. She swam back the way she had come.
In the dark Sarah found her clothes where she had left them by the big rock. She put them on.
Timothy and Beaver had been waiting on the beach nearby. They came over.
“What’s up, Sarah?” Timothy whispered.
“There are four Indians tied up on the ground in the pirates’ camp,” Sarah said.
Beaver nodded. “That’s my family. Are they closer to the trees or to the water?”
“To the trees,” Sarah told him.
“Is anyone guarding them?” Beaver asked.
“I don’t think so,” Sarah said. “The pirates are all singing and dancing and drinking.”
Beaver thought for a minute. “Let’s get our canoe ready to leave.”
Sarah and Timothy helped Beaver push the dugout back into the water.
“Sarah, stay with the canoe and keep it from drifting away from the shore,” Beaver said. “Remember, whatever happens, don’t leave the canoe! Timothy, come with me.”
Sarah climbed into the canoe and picked up one of the scoops. The two boys went back along the beach toward the pirate camp. Sarah dug one end of the scoop down into the sand to act as an anchor.
She waited alone in the dark. The pirates had stopped singing. The only sound Sarah heard was the slapping of the water against the side of the canoe.
Suddenly there was a yell. It sounded like Timothy’s voice. Sarah stood up in the canoe. She wanted to go and help. Then she remembered what Beaver had said. “Don’t leave the canoe!” She sat down again and held on to the paddle. Her heart was banging inside her chest.
She saw the dark shadowy form of a man come out of the woods. He ran across the beach to where the canoe floated in the shallow water. Sarah held her breath.
In the distance she heard Tim’s voice. He was yelling, “Help! Help!”
Sarah couldn’t stand it any longer. She got to her feet and was going to jump out of the canoe. But the man was too quick for her. He waded into the water and grabbed the paddle out of her hands. Then he pushed her down in the canoe.
Sarah tried to get up. But another man had climbed into the canoe. He grabbed Sarah’s arms to hold her down. She struggled. The canoe rocked.
“You stay still,” a deep voice commanded. Sarah saw two more figures running across the beach from the woods. They splashed into the water and scrambled into the dugout. One of them picked up another paddle from the bottom of the canoe.
Now Sarah heard crashing noises in the woods close by. A rough voice called, “Which way did they go?”
Farther off, Timothy was still yelling, “Help! Help! Help!”
One more figure crossed the beach and climbed into the canoe.
This was what the others in the canoe were waiting for. They started to paddle away from th
e shore. Sarah opened her mouth to scream. A hand was clapped across it.
“It’s all right, Sarah,” a low voice said. “It’s me. Beaver.”
The canoe glided into deeper water. The rough voices were closer now. The pirates came crashing out of the woods onto the beach. But the Indians’ canoe slid around the island and headed for the place where the pirates had built their campfire.
Sarah was sitting up. Even though it was too dark for her to see much of the other people in the canoe, she knew now that they were Beaver’s family.
But where was her brother?
The Indians made no sound as they paddled along. Sarah knew she shouldn’t talk. Beaver crouched in front of her in the canoe. He was staring at the shore of the island. They came to where they could see the pirates’ campsite. Beaver whispered in the ear of the tall Indian who paddled the front of the dugout. The Indian signaled to the man at the back. The canoe turned and headed toward the shore.
Sarah looked at the camp. It was almost empty. The pirate with the guitar still leaned against the tree. But he had stopped playing. He was looking into the shadowy woods. Jake was sitting on the fallen log, holding a pistol.
The canoe came close enough to the shore for the two pirates to see it in the light from the campfire. Jake stood up and aimed his pistol at the canoe. The Indian behind Sarah pushed her down. All the others ducked. The bullet whistled high over their heads.
Jake was loading his pistol. Sarah heard a splashing. Someone yelled, “Here I am!”
Timothy was swimming toward the canoe.
The Indians paddled toward Timothy. Before they reached him Jake fired again. The bullet again went high over their heads. Either he was a terrible shot or he didn’t really want to hit them, Sarah thought.
She reached over the side and pulled Timothy into the canoe. Beaver moved over to make space for him to sit down.
Tim was still wearing the leather clothes. The water was pouring off them. He was out of breath. “Boy, that was fun!” he said. “But I’d rather swim in a bathing suit.”
All the Indians were paddling. The canoe raced over the water. The clouds had blown away, and the sky was dusted with stars. The Indian at the back of the canoe kept looking up at them. “What were you screaming about?” Sarah asked Timothy.
“I was trying to give the pirates something to think about besides the Indians they had tied up,” Timothy said. “While they were listening to me, Beaver slipped over and cut the ropes.”
“You gave me something to think about, too,” Sarah told her brother. “I wanted to come and help you.”
“That would really have messed things up,” Timothy said.
“Why didn’t you tell me what you were going to do?” Sarah asked.
“I didn’t know. And Beaver told you not to leave the canoe,” Tim reminded her. He yawned. “Let’s not fight about it, Sarah. I’m tired.” He leaned against the side of the boat and closed his eyes.
Sarah was tired, too. She bent forward and rested her head on her knees. A moment later she was fast asleep.
“Wake up!” Someone was shaking Sarah.
She opened her eyes and looked into the face of the Indian girl.
Sarah sat up and rubbed her eyes. She felt stiff all over. Everyone else had left the canoe. It had been pulled up onto a beach. The Indian girl was standing beside the canoe and bending over Sarah.
“I am Beaver’s sister, Running Doe,” she said. “We let you sleep as long as we could. But the sky is gray in the east. Soon the sun will rise. We must go into the woods before anyone sees us.”
Sarah stood up. She climbed out of the canoe onto the sand. While she stretched, the Indians pushed the canoe higher on the beach. They began to pick up grass and sticks to cover it. Sarah ran to help.
“This is my father, Brave Eagle,” Beaver told her.
The tall Indian put down the piece of beach plum bush he had broken off. He shook Sarah’s hand. “Thank you for what you have done for us. I’m sorry if I frightened you last night. I had no time to explain.”
Beaver’s father propped the piece of beach plum bush against the canoe. He pushed the broken end of the bush into the sand. A few branches were crisscrossed over the dugout and draped with vines. In a few minutes the canoe was completely hidden.
Timothy had taken off the wet jacket and leggings. Like Beaver, he now wore only a little leather apron and moccasins. Beaver’s mother, Moonglow, rolled up the wet leather clothing so she could carry it on her back.
“It will be stiff when it dries,” the Indian woman told Sarah. “But I will stretch it with my hands until it is soft again.”
Before they left the beach the Indian boy introduced Sarah to his grandfather, who was known as Star Watcher. He was a slender old man with snow-white hair and bright, dark eyes.
Brave Eagle started down a faint trail that led through the woods. After him followed Beaver, Timothy, Moonglow, Running Doe, and Sarah. Star Watcher was last.
Sarah would have liked to talk to Beaver’s sister, who was right in front of her. But the Indians walked very fast and did not say a word. Every so often Timothy or Sarah stepped on a stick or crackled a dry leaf. The Indians never made a sound.
The birds were twittering in the trees. The sky overhead became brighter as the sun came up. They came to a ridge of hills. On the other side of it the trail joined another path. This led them back to the cornfield and the Indians’ house.
The fire in the pit was out. Star Watcher had to rub two sticks together to kindle a new fire.
Running Doe sat on the ground outside the house. She picked up a stone rod that thickened into a ball at one end. With this she began to pound dried corn in a stone bowl to make cornmeal. Sarah wanted to help, but the Indian girl just laughed at her. “I can work faster alone,” she said. “Tell me about yourself, Sarah. My brother said you come from another time. How can that be?”
Star Watcher had finished making the fire. He slipped quietly out of the house and stood beside Running Doe. Sarah had just started to tell how she and Timothy had stepped backward in time. The old Indian listened to the story. He watched Sarah’s face all the while she was talking.
“I wish I knew how to get home again,” Sarah finished. “I miss my mother and father.” She was silent for a minute. “But I miss the Maartens, too. I’m sure they’re worried about us.”
Just then Timothy and Beaver came running over to them. Timothy was holding a bow and arrow. “Beaver has been teaching me to shoot. Watch.”
Beaver pushed a stick into the ground. Timothy filled an arrow into his bowstring and aimed at it. Zing! The arrow flew past the stick to bury itself in a fence post.
“Let me try,” Sarah said. Last year she had won first place in archery at summer camp.
Timothy ran to get the arrow. When he gave it to Sarah, she picked up the bow, pulled back the string, and took careful aim. The arrow winged through the air straight at the target. The stick split in half.
Beaver looked at his grandfather. “You see. She is not like the other palefaces.”
“Yes,” Star Watcher said. “I do see.” He turned and went back into the house.
Running Doe was still pounding the corn. “Star Watcher is very wise,” she told Sarah. “He is the medicine man of our tribe. All his life he has studied the healing magic of plants. Did you see the little bag he wears around his neck? That is a charm. Long ago Star Watcher was given this charm by the old medicine man who served before him.”
Timothy sat down on the ground beside Running Doe. “Is a medicine man the same as a witch doctor?”
“He can do magic,” the Indian girl told him. “Last night Star Watcher steered our boat to safety. He drives away the evil spirits that make us sick. And he helps the corn to grow.”
At this moment Moonglow pushed back the flap of bark that served as a door to the Indians’ house. “Come and eat,” she said. “I have cooked enough for everybody.”
“Doesn’t she always cook eno
ugh for everybody?” Timothy asked.
“My people eat only when they are hungry,” Beaver explained. “We each cook our own food. But you are guests. And my mother knows that we all must be hungry.”
Moonglow had made cornbread. It tasted only half-baked to Sarah. But the Indians all seemed to enjoy it. Beaver ate three pieces.
All sorts of different things had been cooked together to make a sort of stew. Everyone sat around the pot and fished things out of it with a spoon. Then they ate with their fingers.
Sarah pulled out something that looked as if it might be a sparrow. She quickly put it back into the pot and took out something else.
Timothy held up a chunk of meat. “What’s this?”
“Skunk,” Beaver told him.
Sarah decided not to ask what she was eating.
After the meal Timothy went into the forest with Beaver and his father. They took their bows and arrows with them. Sarah spent the day helping Moonglow and Running Doe stretch deer hides until they were soft enough to make moccasins. Star Watcher went to gather herbs.
In the late afternoon Running Doe picked up a large clay jar. She started down a path that led to the woods.
“Where are you going?” Sarah called after her.
“To get water,” the Indian girl said. “Do you want to come with me?”
Sarah followed her into the woods. The sun flickered through the leaves. A wood thrush was singing his little trill. A spring bubbled out of a hollow overhung by a large beech tree. Running Doe knelt down among the green ferns and filled her clay jar with water.
Then the two girls took off their moccasins and waded in the shallow stream that trickled from the spring. Cool mud oozed between their toes. A green frog darted out of their way.