Storm Tide

by Kari Jones

  I nod my head because already I am finding it hard to keep the boat moving in the direction I want to go. Turning around seems like an excellent idea.

  Until I try. As soon as I sweep the oar to change the angle of the boat, I know it’s going to be impossible. The boat tilts dangerously to the left, and water slops over the side. It slides around the bottom of the boat, wetting my toes.

  “I can’t turn around. The wind’s too strong.” My voice sounds panicky.

  “Aim for the far shore,” Ellen says, and she slides in beside me. I let her have the starboard oar, and I put all my weight into pulling the port one.

  I can’t believe we’ve been this stupid. You’d think living here all our lives, we’d know better. But that’s the thing with wind and waves: you often can’t tell how strong they are until you’re in them. We pull and pull on the oars, but as hard as we pull, we can’t escape the waves. I look over my shoulder.

  We’re being pushed out to sea.

  “Pull harder,” I yell at Ellen. Both of us tense and pull, tense and pull. Slowly, the bow of the boat shifts, and then our angle swings around. Water spills over the gunwales, but we stay upright. Now we’re heading toward the far shore. There’s no time to take a breath. We have to keep rowing, or we’ll lose our angle and head back out to sea. Up and down the waves we ride. Up and down and up and down.

  I’ve given up finding the person in the water when Ellen yells, “Look, there!” The man—we can see he has a beard—is on the surface, but is clearly struggling. I watch out of the corner of my eye, since I don’t dare turn around. He keeps disappearing under the water for long periods.

  “We can’t reach him,” says Ellen, and I nod. But I see him surface again. For a second, I look right into his face. We lock eyes, and I feel a jolt of the man’s terror all down my back.

  With a new burst of strength, I pull my oar to change the angle of the boat. It is just enough to send us past the man.

  “What are you doing?” Ellen yells.

  I ignore her and pull again. The boat shifts more, and we hurtle along a wave, heading right for the man in the water.

  “You hold the boat steady,” I call to Ellen. She opens her mouth, but doesn’t say anything. I hand her my oar and slide across, reaching under a seat for the lifes-aving ring. I check the rope on the ring, then tie the other end of the rope to my seat.

  “One, two, three,” I say, and I fling the ring overboard. It lands far from the man. I brace myself and pull on the rope to bring the life-saving ring back in. I try again. This time I risk crouching over so I can get a better angle. Again, the ring lands too far from the man. As I sit back down, a wave sloshes over the gunwale, soaking Ellen and me. The wind is getting worse.

  “One last try.” I grit my teeth. If I mess this one up, this guy’s going to drown. This time I sit low, my knees resting on the bottom of the boat. I swing the rope as hard as I can and hope.

  The ring lands right on top of the man’s head. For a second it looks like it is going to slide off, but then it sinks over his neck.

  “Hurrah,” says Ellen in a strained voice.

  She keeps pulling on the oars while I pull on the rope. I have to go gently so the ring won’t come off the man’s neck. He’s heavy, and I have to lean back to pull him closer. After a minute of pulling, I’ve got him alongside the boat.

  “Is he alive?” asks Ellen.

  Chapter Five

  “I can’t tell.” I reach over to grab him under the arms so I can hoist him in, but the boat lists too far. We almost go over. Quickly, I pull back.

  “You’ll have to brace on the other side,” I yell at Ellen. She slides over so that all her weight is on the opposite side of the boat. She leans as far over the other side as she can while still holding on to both oars.

  I try again. This time I manage to get my arms under the man without tipping the boat, but he is heavy. I almost drop him. I try a third time, and slowly his head and then his shoulders slide out of the water. I can hold him above water, but I can’t pull him up any farther.

  “Ellen, let the gunwale dip further,” I yell. She leans her weight back toward the center of the boat. With a huge groan and all the strength I can find, I pull. The boat lists dangerously, but I lift the man until I can pull his head and shoulders into the boat.

  “Quick,” yells Ellen, as the boat takes on water. Together we grab at the man’s coat and slide him on board. He takes up most of the bottom of the boat. Ellen turns his face out of the water so that he can breathe.

  “Get into the seat,” shouts Ellen. “Grab an oar.” She doesn’t have to say it twice. If we don’t get this boat under control, we’re all going over.

  We tense and pull, tense and pull, tense and pull. The boat bounces on the waves. We can’t gain control. “There’s too much water in here.”

  Ellen hands me her oar and fumbles for the scoop under the seat. She finds it and starts bailing water. There is a ton of water in the boat, but she gets most of it out. Now the boat is easier to control. When she returns to the seat, I let her take an oar.

  Tense and pull, tense and pull, tense and pull. These are my only thoughts, my only actions. I’m too tired to think about the man at the bottom of the boat.

  It feels like hours later when we finally reach the shelter of the land. The wind and waves drop away. I let go of my oar and fall forward. Every muscle in my body screams at me as I let the boat drift onto the shore. It crunches onto the rocky beach, and Ellen and I crawl out. With the man on the bottom, the boat is as heavy as a yacht, and Ellen and I struggle to pull it up so it won’t float away with the tide. Both of us collapse back onto the beach.

  The beach never felt so wonderful. Every rock reminds me I am safe. “Aghhh…” is the only thing I can say as I lie there breathing.

  Then Ellen says, “What’s that noise?”

  I sit up. “Noise?”

  “Listen.”

  There are seagulls, as always, screeching overhead. The trees creak in the wind, and the sea scratches at the rocks on the beach as it surges. But these sounds are always here. Then I hear something else.

  “It’s the man. He’s moaning.” Ellen and I are up and looking over the gunwale of the boat in a second. My heart pounds fast. The man hasn’t moved, but he is making noise.

  “He’s alive!” says Ellen. We smile at each other in relief.

  We manage to pull the man out of the boat. He opens his eyes for a second and moans.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer. His body goes limp, and we have to put our arms around his waist and half carry, half drag him onto the trail. It’s too narrow for the three of us, so we walk sideways in single file with me in front, then the man, then Ellen. Normally it takes ten minutes to walk from the far side of the bay to the boat shed. Today it takes ages. Every few seconds we have to stop to rest. I am panting and soaked through with sweat. I’ve never felt so hungry in my life. All I want is to reach home and hand this man over to Mom and Dad. I don’t even have the energy to talk.

  When we emerge from the bush and see the boat shed ahead of us, I say, “Oh no!” Mom and Dad aren’t back. The shed is just as we left it. There’s no motorboat.

  “I thought they’d be back by now,” says Ellen, sounding like she is about to cry.

  We lower the man onto the ground and stand there with our arms hanging loose. Neither of us moves.

  “What should we do?” says Ellen. She looks exhausted. She must be, if she’s asking for my advice. But I’m exhausted too, so I just shake my head.

  The man moans again, and I take a deep breath and pull myself together. “We have to get him inside. He’s soaked. He needs to get warm.” Ellen nods. We pick him up and start walking again, this time a little faster.

  Inside, we head straight for the sofa. We bend down and let the man fall onto the seat. He slides down so that he is lying across the cushions. He lies there for a second, then turns over and throws up.

>   “Ohhhh…gross,” I say. The salty stink of it fills the air. I think I am going to be sick myself, so I run out of the room. I calm myself and head for the radio to call the coast guard.

  “Discovery Lighthouse to coast guard, come in. Over.” I say.

  No answer.

  “Discovery Lighthouse to coast guard, come in. Over.”

  “We read you, Discovery Lighthouse.

  Simon, how’s it going over there? Over.”

  “Mark, is that you?” I ask. “We need you to send an ambulance.”

  “Are you two okay?”

  “We’re okay, but we hauled some guy out of the water. He needs to get to the hospital. Can you send an ambulance?”

  “No can do, kiddo. Can’t send anyone out in weather like this. Where is he now?”

  “We’ve got him here with us. In the living room.”

  “Keep him warm. We’ll send someone when it calms down.”

  I slowly put down the handset.

  I try Mom and Dad on the boat, but I don’t really expect them to answer. There’s no way they would be out in this weather. We don’t have landlines or cell phones on the island. I keep bugging Mom about it, but so far she hasn’t budged on the issue. Too expensive, she says. If only she knew what was happening now.

  I walk back to the living room. Ellen is cleaning up the mess with one hand and pinching her nose with the other. She looks up at me. “When will they get here?” she asks.

  I shrug. “Mark says they can’t send someone in this weather.”

  “Mom and Dad?”

  “No answer.”

  Ellen’s whole body sags. We look at the man lying on the sofa. He’s breathing, but he looks unconscious. Then Ellen looks at me. “What are we going to do?”

  Chapter Six

  Ellen drops the rag into the bucket and stands up. She runs the back of her hand across her eyes. I think she’s about to lose it, but she takes a deep breath, puts her hands in prayer position and closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath. “It’s okay,” she says. “We can deal with this. Look at you. You’re shivering. Go upstairs and change out of those wet clothes. I’ll do the same, and then we’ll make some tea. We’ll make some extra in case he wakes up. It will warm him up. But first, let’s prop up his head in case he needs to throw up again.”

  Wow. I’m impressed. Not that I’d ever tell Ellen, but what she just did was totally cool. Hearing her take control makes me feel calm. I nod and grab a pillow from the armchair while Ellen lifts the man’s head. I place the pillow under him and throw a blanket over him. Then I run upstairs and change.

  After we’ve had some hot tea, I feel better. I have stopped shivering, but now I’m starting to feel nervous again. I don’t like the look of this man. His beard is ragged, and his shoes have holes in them. I can’t help wondering what he was doing out on the water in such bad weather. Why did he pitch that tent without asking? And why did he take it down so suddenly? What is he doing here?

  A branch of the tree growing next to the house hits the wall. That’s some wind out there. I shiver. The lights flicker, then go out. It’s only three o’clock, but the sky is very dark from the storm. With the power out, the house is dark.

  “Oh no.” Ellen looks out the window.

  I don’t have to ask what she’s thinking.

  There’s no way Mom and Dad are out in the boat in this wind.

  “They’re not going to get home soon, are they?” I ask. Ellen shakes her head. I close my eyes and take a ragged breath. This is so not the day I was hoping for.

  Ellen and I take turns sitting with the man. He lies there, snoring sometimes. When it’s my turn, I light as many candles as I can to brighten the room, and I pull the armchair close to the couch so that I can see if he’s breathing. I try to read my book, but I’m so tired that I nod off sitting in the armchair. I wake with a start when I hear talking.

  It’s the man.

  I sit upright and shake my head to clear my mind. Then I lean over so that I can hear what he’s saying. The candles have almost all burned out, so I can just make out his face. His eyes are closed. He’s talking in his sleep.

  “Gerhe trtre trea sureofjuan fuca…”

  “What?” I whisper.

  “Trtre trea sureofjuan fuca,” he says again.

  Am I hearing right? Fuca what? I almost giggle. Puka? Does he want to puke again? Or is he trying to say something else?

  Ellen’s asleep in the other chair. I poke her shin with my foot. “Wake up.”

  She opens her eyes, then straightens up. “What?”

  I point to the man. “Listen.”

  We wait. In a few minutes, he says it again.

  “Trtre trea sureofjuan fuca…”

  “Huh?” The look on her face makes me laugh. She laughs too. Soon we are laughing so hard, we can’t stop.

  “Fuca, fuca, fuca,” he calls out.

  That gets us laughing again, but our laughter is close to crying. Both of us are feeling tired and crazy.

  Chapter Seven

  Ellen takes a turn watching the man, so I go to bed for a while, even though it’s only about six o’clock. I fall asleep so fast, I don’t even have time to pull down the covers. But soon Ellen is waking me up.

  “Hurry,” she says and runs out of the room. I am instantly awake, my heart pounding. I remember everything about the day. The tent, the boat ride, the man.

  Oh no, what’s happened now?

  Ellen is standing behind the armchair in the living room, and the man is pacing between the chairs and sofa. With each step he flings his arms in the air.

  “Calm down,” she says.

  He ignores her. “I have to get it. Where’s my bag? NOW!” he shouts.

  “Get what?” I ask. He spins around to look at me.

  “Oh good, you’re here. I figured it out. The riddle, the map. It all makes sense now.”

  Is he talking to me?

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “De Fuca’s treasure. It all makes sense now.” He leans in close to me and whispers, “It’s taken me a year to translate that riddle. I’m not missing this chance. De Fuca’s treasure!” He lurches forward and grabs my collar. “WHERE IS MY BAG?” I pull back, wrenching my shirt free. He turns after me as I run around the chair to the other side of the room. “MY BAG,” he shouts again. I run over to Ellen, and we huddle behind the armchair.

  “He’s hallucinating. He thinks I’m someone else,” I whisper to Ellen.

  “No kidding,” she whispers back.

  He lunges toward us. I can feel Ellen trembling, so I push her behind me and step in front of the chair. “What kind of treasure is it? What riddle are you talking about?”

  The man stops and peers down his nose at me. For a second he looks like he’s going to get crazy again, but then he sways and reaches out to steady himself. Slowly, he sinks onto the sofa and lies back. His body shivers for a few seconds, but then he’s still. I bend over and snap my fingers in his face, but he doesn’t respond. Ellen lets out a loud breath behind me.

  “That was scary,” she says.

  “Yeah, no kidding.”

  Ellen’s whole body is shaking as she lowers herself into the armchair. “You were cool, Simon. Standing up to him like that.”

  I’d never admit it to her, but hearing those words makes me happy. “Thanks,” I say. I bend over the man again and snap my fingers just to make sure he’s passed out. Nothing. Nothing at all. Is he even breathing? The last thing we need now is for him to stop breathing. I put my ear to his mouth. A puff of air hits my ear. He’s breathing.

  I look at Ellen. “Do you think he’s in trouble?” I ask.

  “I think we’d better find this tent of his and see if his bag is in it,” she says.

  “So you believe me now, do you?” I ask.

  Ellen begins to give me one of her looks, but then she says, “He might have some ID in there. He’s not looking good, and I want to be able to tell the ambulance guys who he is.”r />
  “When we get an ambulance,” I say glumly.

  “Yeah.”

  I stand up and look out the window. It’s still really windy, and it’s totally dark. Our options are to stay inside with a crazy man, who may or may not start hallucinating again, or to go outside and look for a tent. I look longingly at the radio, but I know that no one is coming any time soon. Not Mom and Dad, not the coast guard—no one.

  I nod. “Let’s go. The less time I have to spend with this man, the better.”

  We put on warm coats and grab flashlights. When Ellen opens the door, it swings wide open and the wind hits us. We struggle up the path and over the short hill until we are facing the light tower. As soon as we see it, we both stop. Ellen turns to me.

  “Uh-oh.”

  I know exactly what she means. In all the excitement, neither of us remembered that we were supposed to check the barometer, make sure the rain meter was okay, take a look at the sunshine recorder and check that the light was working properly.

  “We’d better go in and check things. Then we’ll look for the tent,” I say. Ellen nods, and we head to the tower.

  The wind is so strong that it takes both of us to open the door. We grab the handle and pull. At first it won’t open at all, but once we get it open a crack, it swings wide. We tumble inside and pull the door closed behind us.

  We race up the spiral staircase and look around. The tower light is fueled by diesel, so even when the power goes out, it still works. Things seem to be okay up here. It only takes us a few minutes to check the barometer and thermometer and write out a weather report for Dad to send in the morning.

  We climb back down the stairs more slowly.

  “Now we have to figure out where the tent is. How are we going to find it in the middle of a storm?” I have hardly said these words when I see something beside the stairs.

  I swing my flashlight over to take a closer look. Gray fabric. I bend over and pull it out. The tent!

  The man has left it in a heap. Ellen pulls one end and I pull the other until we find the door. The space at the bottom of the stairs is too small to spread the tent out, so I’m going to have to crawl inside it to take a look.