by Kari Jones
My face burns. I have to look at my plate so no one will notice. Saul kicks me under the table, but I move my leg and pretend I didn’t notice. After dinner, I go to my bedroom to get ready. I throw binoculars and my cell phone into my backpack. Before I fall asleep, I set my alarm for 4:30 am.
When the alarm rings, I almost turn it off and go back to sleep.
Then I remember my plan.
I lie still to make sure no one else in the house is moving.
The house is silent.
Without turning on the light, I dress and grab my backpack. I have to feel my way along the hall and down the stairs. At the door I fumble for my shoes. I open the door an inch at a time. I don’t want to make any noise.
My kayak is still behind the shed. I pull it to the water and slide it in. It makes a small splash when I let go of the stern.
I freeze. Nothing moves. My hands shake as I climb into the kayak, but nothing is going to stop me now. In ten strokes I’m under the trees and on my way.
Dawn is just breaking. There’s barely enough light to distinguish sea from land. My heart thumps. I force my hands to keep calm on the paddle. The kayak glides through the water, slick as a seal. I’m quiet but not fast.
I glance behind me. In the dark, there’s nothing to see. I lean forward and put on the speed. My stomach muscles tense, and I breathe deeply to give myself more power. I have to get there before anyone else does.
When I reach Riley Bay, I head straight for the kelp beds to check on the otters.
“Hi, guys,” I whisper, even though no one is around. “I’m on a mission today, so I can’t stay and play.” I splash water in their direction. They ignore me and keep eating sea urchins. “Silly,” I say, but I’m glad they’re okay.
There’s enough light now to see the shore. I climb out of the kayak and drag it past the rocks, then arrange branches over it. You’d have to look closely to see it was there. I brush my tracks in the mud with a pine branch to mask them. As fast as I can, I hike to the hilltop and hide behind a tree.
Now that I’m still, I think about what might happen if Dad finds out I’m here. He’ll be furious, that’s for sure. It’s tempting to head home and go back to bed and forget about all of this. But then I remember the sea otters. They need me to keep them safe. Until I find out what the man on the hill is doing, I’m not going anywhere. I sit up straighter and wait.
The sun is still hiding behind the hill when Dad’s boat motors into the bay.
What’s he doing here? Does he know I’m here? Oh no! Dad stops the motor, and Saul hops onto shore. Dad waves and takes the boat out into the bay.
I sink back into the tree trunk. Honestly, this was the last thing in the world I expected.
What are they doing?
Are they spying on me?
Chapter Five
Dad and Saul! How can it be? I’m so shocked, I can hardly make my arms and legs move. Spying on me. How could they?
Anger rises up my face like a red tide. I clench my hands. I’ll show them what it feels like to be spied on.
When Saul reaches the top of the hill, he’s disguised in the oversized hoodie he was wearing yesterday. Did he think he could hide from me in that?
Saul sits on a stump. He stares out to sea.
Waiting for me, I bet.
I stand up and push off the tree. I’m going to demand an explanation.
Then I get a better idea. I’ll watch him for a while. Then when I do confront him, he’ll know what it’s like to be watched.
I creep closer to Saul, staying behind trees so he can’t see me. Saul doesn’t move. I can see the sea otters clearly. He doesn’t seem to have noticed them. Maybe I can only see them because I know they’re there. Maybe he’s not here about the sea otters at all.
Maybe he’s only here to spy on me.
Something in my stomach hurts when I think that.
Saul doesn’t move at all. Is he waiting for me? How many days has he been doing this? How did he and Dad know I was coming here? That hurt in my stomach grows and grows.
Then Saul stands up and shouts into his radio, “Dad, they’re here.”
What?
My head whips around. What’s he looking at?
A motorboat roars into the channel across from Riley Bay and Rugged Point. What does this mean? Whose boat is that?
You mean he’s not looking for me? The question pushes at the space in my stomach where the hurt is. I turn the vhf radio on my life jacket on low.
It’s hard to see. I pull my binoculars out of my backpack and focus. The boat moves across the water until it’s in the middle of the channel, then stops. There are two men on board. I put the binoculars down.
What is going on? Why would Saul want to tell Dad about this boat?
Then Dad’s boat, Storm Tide, comes into view. He pulls up beside the other boat. I put the binoculars back up to my eyes to watch.
Dad walks to the back of his boat. He leans forward and points at something on the other boat. The other man waves at him. It’s weird, why is he waving at Dad when Dad’s right there? Dad says something, and the man shakes both his arms.
Something is wrong.
“Careful, Dad,” I whisper.
The man steps toward Dad and pushes him in the chest. Dad staggers back. The man jumps onto his boat. Both Saul and I take a sharp breath. You never ever step onto someone else’s boat without an invitation. That doesn’t stop the man. He lunges at Dad. Dad shoves him away.
He comes back, arms swinging, and hits Dad in the jaw.
Dad spins. He looks like he’s going to fall. He regains his balance and swings at the man.
He misses.
The man bends down and shoves his head into Dad’s stomach. He pushes Dad backward until Dad trips over the gunwale of his boat.
Dad falls headfirst into the water.
His boat roars off. The other boat follows.
Dad is alone in the water.
“Dad!” I shout. I can’t help it. The word slips out. My mind whirls in confusion. The binoculars in my hands shake.
Saul spins around. “Maya, what…?” He leaps up from the stump. “Go away, Maya. You shouldn’t be here.”
I know I shouldn’t. But Dad’s in trouble. I charge down the hill.
“Maya,” Saul yells behind me. The two of us speed down the hill.
“What are you doing?” I know Saul’s confused. He wants to know what I’m doing here. But I have only one thought on my mind. The water is cold. A swimmer only has five or ten minutes before hypothermia sets in. Dad’s a long way out in the channel.
What if he’s hurt?
We reach the bottom together. When we slide to a stop, we both have radios to our mouths. Saul says, “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, this is Storm Tide calling. We’ve got a man overboard. We need help.” He’s babbling and not following proper Mayday protocol at all.
I can hardly move. “Please, please, please answer,” I whisper.
The reply comes. “Is that you, Saul? What’s happened?”
“Dad’s in the water off Rugged Point. He may be hurt,” Saul shouts.
At the word hurt, he turns white. We both know it might be worse than that.
“Okay, Saul, Coast Guard Vessel Marie Celeste is approximately ten miles south and proceeding to your location. ETA approximately thirty minutes. There are no other vessels nearby. Over.”
“Thirty minutes,” says Saul.
It’s too long.
I know what I have to do.
Chapter Six
I rush to my kayak. I sweep the branches off it, shove it into the water and grab my paddle.
“Maya, no!” calls Saul. He knows what I’m going to do. He lunges to stop me. He misses, and I hop into the kayak.
Saul grabs my stern and pulls the boat back to shore. “Let me go, Maya. I’m stronger. I’ll get there faster.”
“You won’t fit,” I say. I look him in the eye. “Saul, let go of my boat. You know you won’t fit.”
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Dad built this boat just for me. Saul is fifty pounds and six inches bigger than I am. He’d tip over the minute he took a forward stroke. Frustration flickers in his eyes. Finally, he lets go. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he says.
I settle into my boat and paddle. Fast.
From the water, I can’t see where Dad is. There are rocks and small islands between us. There’s no splashing, no flash of moving arms, nothing. Tears blur my vision. I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. The only thing I have to go by is what I saw from the hilltop, so I point my boat in that direction and hope.
Each stroke takes me faster than the one before. Soon I’m flying across the water.
I hope I’m fast enough.
Dad’s a good swimmer, but he doesn’t have a survival suit on.
What if he’s hurt? I can’t think about that.
At the mouth of the bay, the current changes. Instead of pushing me toward Dad, it pulls me away from him. I shift my butt back on my seat and lean forward. I push with every muscle, but the boat feels like it’s slipping backward. Push, push, push. Each stroke makes my stomach clench and my arms sting. My mouth is dry. All I can think about is getting to Dad.
The boat inches forward. I feel like I’m not moving at all. Sweat pours down my face.
With all of my strength, I pull that paddle again. Suddenly I’m free of the current and in the main channel. Once again the current is working with me.
The boat surges forward.
There’s so much water in the channel and no way to tell where to go. It’s choppy out here. I don’t know where the current has taken Dad. My head spins around, left, right, left, right. I can’t see anything to help me locate him. My mind whizzes in a million directions—what if he’s drowned? What if I never find him? My stroke falters. Tears blur my vision.
Then my radio crackles. Saul’s voice says, “Head west, Maya. I can see him. I’m at the top of the hill. You’ve got to go to your left.”
I’ve never been so happy to hear Saul’s voice in my life.
I angle the bow of my boat left and pull my paddle through the water with all my strength. The kayak turns toward the far shore. After a few strokes, I still can’t see anything.
“Farther left, Maya.”
I angle the boat more. I still can’t see anything. “Saul,” I call into my radio. How many minutes has it been?
“You’re almost there, Maya,” says Saul.
Then I hear Dad. “Maya, over here.”
“Where are you?” I scream.
There’s no answer. I can’t see anything. My mouth turns dry. Did I imagine him calling me? I take another stroke and look around. The chop hits the side of my kayak, threatening to change my angle. I have to look straight ahead again and pay attention.
“Veer right,” comes Saul’s voice. “You’ve almost got him.”
I change the angle of my boat again and yell, “Dad, are you okay?” My voice is hoarse.
I paddle on, scanning the sea for his head.
“Here,” he says. Then I see him. His head is above water.
He hasn’t drowned.
All my energy rushes out of me, and I shout in relief, “Saul, I see him!”
The current pushes me west, away from Dad. I gather my energy and shift the angle of the boat. Dip the paddle. Pull. Dip. Pull. He raises his arm so I can keep track of where he is.
In ten strokes I’m alongside him. “Dad, I thought you’d drowned.” I am crying, and I can’t see anything but my own tears.
“Maya. Thank goodness you ignored me. I have never been so happy to see someone as I am to see you.”
I laugh through my tears. “Can you climb onto my stern?”
Dad grabs hold of my boat. With a mighty “hhhffff,” he hauls himself up so that his chest lies across the stern. His legs dangle in the water.
The kayak is tippy with Dad’s weight on it. I brace with each stroke to keep us upright. The current pushes against me now. My arms burn with the force of paddling. Inch by inch we move closer to shore.
At the change of the current, the waves grow bigger. I brace against them. The current pulls us faster.
“Hold on, Dad,” I call.
“I’m holding,” he says.
The waves keep coming. A big one hits us broadside, and I throw the paddle into a brace. The wave rolls under us. I straighten the boat and keep paddling. Another wave hits, and another.
My breath comes sharply now. My stomach muscles are clenched. I try to speak to Dad, but I don’t have any breath.
“It’s rough…” is all that comes out.
“You’re doing great, Maya,” he yells.
A bigger wave comes at me.
We’re not going to make it.
The wave smacks against the boat and breaks over my shoulder. It pushes me along with it. I feel Dad’s weight slip off. The boat tips. I go under.
Chapter Seven
I gulp air before my head submerges. With my left hand I swing the paddle alongside the kayak, and then I grab it with my right hand. I flick my hips and push on the paddle. The boat slides under me and rolls upright. My head pops out of the water.
I take a deep breath.
“Dad!” I shout.
“I’m right here. Good job, Maya. That was a great roll.”
I can only nod in response.
Dad climbs back onto the stern of my boat, and I paddle again.
When we reach the shore, I’m so cold and exhausted I can’t pull the kayak out of the water. Saul wades out as we approach. He helps Dad slide off the stern. Together they stagger to shore. Saul has lit a fire. He sits Dad down next to it, then comes back to help me.
“Good job, Maya,” he says. I hand him my paddle. My hands are numb. I can’t pull myself out of the boat. Saul leans over and puts his arms under mine. He lifts me out of my boat and carries me to shore. I let him.
I sink down next to Dad. Both of us reach our hands toward the fire. It’s all we can do. Saul pulls at our clothes, takes off our wet sweaters and shoes. Dad and I sit like rag dolls.
My body is numb, but my mind whirls. “Who were those people, Dad?” I ask. “What were they doing? Why did he fight with you? Why did they take your boat?”
Saul hands Dad his dry hoodie, then takes my left hand and rubs it between his hands. My fingers flash with pain as blood rushes back into them.
Saul says, “The men are poachers. They’ve been cruising the coast all summer. They get into people’s traps. They’ve been seen diving around here for sea urchins.” He takes my other hand and rubs again. “They mean business, Maya. They probably planned to take Dad’s boat. Josh Hampel had his motor tampered with. The Jacksons’ nets were slashed. Our crab traps were emptied. That’s how we found out about them.” He pauses, then says, “And we’ve seen them swamp kayakers in their wake.”
Dad nods. “Saul’s right. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. My heart feels cold.
Saul and Dad look at each other. “Because we knew you’d try to help. We thought you’d worry about all the animals around here. We thought you’d try to get close to them and end up swamped. Or worse. We didn’t want you to worry.” Dad reaches out to put his hand on my shoulder. I lean away.
“Or to help,” says Saul.
“You didn’t trust me?” I ask. The tears that threaten to spill out of my eyes are angry.
Dad sighs. He turns away. “What are we going to do?” he says. He slumps over with his head in his hands. Saul looks out to the bay. The look on his face is bleak.
Things couldn’t be worse. Dad and Saul have lost their boat. Dad found out that I came out in my kayak even after he told me not to. Sooner or later he’s going to ask me what I was doing. There are poachers out there. And to top it off, Saul and Dad didn’t trust me enough to tell me. The thought makes me choke. Only my exhaustion keeps me from screaming at them.
I stare out at the bay. I can’t see the sea otters, but I know
they’re out there. The chill in my heart turns colder. The sea otters are in this bay because there’s a bed of sea urchins here. If the poachers are diving for the sea urchins, they’ll find the sea otters. Then things are going to get even worse.
A boat turns into the bay. Saul wades into the water and waves them toward us. “Mark, over here.” It’s the coast guard.
The three of us huddle in the wind as the boat speeds back to town. Mark unscrews a thermos and pours something hot into the lid. He hands it to Dad. “You went after the poachers, didn’t you?” he says.
Dad nods.
“I told you to leave it to us. You shouldn’t be out there.”
Dad and I catch each other’s eye. He leans over. Here it comes. He’s going to ask me what I was doing. What am I going to say? Normally I’d tell him the truth.
Not today.
If they don’t trust me, why should I trust them?
Instead of asking me anything, he puts his arm around me. “I guess we’ve both been caught, eh?”
I nod.
“But no more disobeying me, okay? We’re agreed? You’ll stay away?”
Dad is worried about the poachers. He’s upset about losing his boat. He’s cold and shocked and worn. Losing his boat is one of the worst things that can happen to him. The last thing he needs is to worry about me. So I nod again.
This time I’m not sure if I’m lying.
I can’t stop thinking about Gertrude and Oscar and Lilly. If the poachers find them, what will they do? Will they shoot them? How am I going to keep the poachers away from the sea otters? I lean away from Dad’s embrace. It might not be possible to stay away from Riley Bay.
“How come you haven’t caught the poachers?” I ask Mark. My voice comes out harsh and angry. “If you were doing your job, none of this would be happening.” I don’t know if it’s the coast guard I’m angry with, but I can’t shout at Dad when he’s so down.
“Maya,” says Dad.
“It’s okay, Gerry. I understand why she’s upset. The thing is, Maya, we can’t accuse someone of poaching unless we catch them doing something illegal or we find illegal catch on board.”
“So catch them then,” I say.