Sea of a Thousand Words

by Christine C. Wallace

  Tipping his mug once more in a quiet salute, Kai rose to his feet and stretched, announcing, “Right then, I’ve got a couple masts to stick on this waka before you gap it. I’d best find m’ mate Táan, and get things started.” He paused at the table, looked back at Dot and winked. “See? Impressive, ay. Just like I said.”

  Dot waved good-bye as he walked toward the stairs. For the life of her, she couldn’t fathom why Kai kept insisting that “adventure” would play any part in this endeavor. She’d spent years yearning for “adventure” as one of the Greenwood’s fetchers, and now she was to leave it behind and head straight for what she felt was an almost certain death.

  Reba leaned her elbow on the chair’s armrest, nestling her chin in the palm of her hand. She looked over at the young woman sitting beside her and smiled. “Kai’s right about that, there’s something impressive about you Dot—the raven certainly knows it—soon enough, you’ll realize it too.”

  Monk ruffled his feathers and took flight with a loud croak, soaring toward the tops of the trees.

  22 Antecedents

  The Greenwood. Jul. 27. 2033

  [Coordinates Unknown]

  Táan tightened the clamp around the piece of spruce. He knelt over the end of the board, placing his face at eye-level and examined its length, closing his eyes and allowing his fingers to find details in the grain that his vision could not see. Kai sat on a tall stool, working next to him. He laid his square of sandpaper on the workbench and paused to watch his friend. Several seconds later, Táan opened his eyes, straightened his posture and reached for the block plane that sat nearby. Kai gestured toward the piece of wood with his paddle and said, “You’re a right natural chippie, cuz.”

  “How so?”

  “My dad was a chippie, and when I was a kid—back in Whangara, I’d spend hours in his shop. I loved watching him make things. It just occurred to me that you handle the wood exactly like he did.” Kai resumed sanding his paddle, his head bowed over the handle as he continued. “He’d run his hand over a board, like you do. Y’know—checking’ to see it’s a good nick and all… And I remember thinking that’s the way lovers must touch… A might hokey, yeah. Anyways, I mentioned it to my dad once and he told me, ‘Toku tama, to make something beautiful, you begin by falling in love with it.’ That always kinda’ stuck with me.”

  Táan brushed the translucent curls of spruce from under the blade of his block plane. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” He blew the shavings away from his work and glanced over at his friend. “So, what happened to your dad, Kai?”

  “He died.”

  The men worked on their projects in silent concentration. The old barn was peaceful, save for the even swooshes Táan’s plane made as it passed over the spruce and the staccato rasps of Kai’s sandpaper on his handle. Voices from outside interrupted their solitude. They heard Lilu-ye’s chatter, accentuated by her unfaltering laughter. “Come on, Kim—you can go faster than that!”

  “I’m trying, I’m trying!” Kim’s voice was barely discernable over the sound of Karl’s barking. “I’m going to lose control here in a minute when the ground drops off…Whoa!” There was a crashing noise, followed by a high-pitched yelp from the dog. Táan and Kai ran outside in time to see Lilu-ye helping Kim to his feet. Karl raced past them into the shop, his tail between his legs.

  “What happened?” Kai asked.

  Lilu-ye retrieved Kim’s crutches and said, “We wanted to show you how much progress Kim’s made on these… but downhill isn’t so good just yet. And then Karl sort of got in the way and they got all tangled up. That’ll teach him I s’pose.” She steadied the scientist on his new crutches and went in search of her dog.

  Kim waved one of his homemade walking sticks at the two men and called out, “I’m improving my mobility. I should be ready for travel by next week—just in time!”

  Táan grinned and said, “You’d better work out those arms then, buddy—we’ll be spending most of our time sitting on our asses, paddling for days on end.”

  Kim hitched the crutches underneath his arms and hobbled over to the barn. He peered through the doorway, noticing the paddles in mid-process. “May I be of any help to you? I’d really like to contribute.”

  Kai scratched his head and looked up at the ceiling. Hanging above the work station were numerous old paddles of various shapes and lengths. He glanced briefly at the scientist and then climbed the wooden ladder to the loft. They watched as Kai jumped across the open rafters until he came to a stop at a weathered paddle hanging between the beams. “Check this one out, mate—it was my first paddle. I think it’s probably your size.”

  Táan reached up and passed the paddle over to Kim. The scientist leaned on his crutches and grasped the handle with both hands, glancing at Táan to confirm he was holding it correctly. Táan nodded and then separated Kim’s hands, moving each of them closer to the blades. “There you go, now you’ve got it—less work this way.”

  Kim stared down at his hands. He tightened his grip and made a sweeping motion with the blades. “Yes—this feels very good. I look forward to physical exertion like this. I’ve been an invalid for too long.”

  Kai jumped off the last rung of the ladder and wiped his hands across his tee-shirt, leaving a trail of dirt crisscrossed over his chest. “Yeah? Just wait until day five—trust me, you’ll be thinking fondly about that wheelchair, cuz.” He slapped Kim on the shoulder and walked him into the barn. “Let’s find some sandpaper, we can knock down that old finish and put a few coats of oil on it, she’ll be right as.”

  Lilu-ye and Karl wandered past them and stood in the entry. She grabbed the barn door handle and leaned back, swinging to and fro with her hair almost brushing the straw floor. “I don’t want you to go away, Kai-kai.”

  Kai smiled at the girl and said, “Lilu-ye, Oolie and I are going a short way, just far enough to get them through the Inside Passage. I’ll be back soon enough.”

  “What about Kim… and Dot and Táan? Will they come back? I’m going to miss all of them.”

  Táan said, “Dot and I will be back, don’t you worry, kiddo. This is our home as much as Haida Gwaii now.”

  Kim motioned for Lilu-ye to come nearer. He tore the square of sandpaper in half, handing her a portion. Karl wandered beneath the work bench sniffing at the pile of spruce shavings at Táan’s feet. As the girl helped him smooth the handle, Kim said, “Lilu-ye, you are a part of my family now. Where else would I want to be? One day, when I finish my task, then there’s no other place I would want to come back to live but here with my friends. I might even invite my niece and nephew to come visit me here. They would like you—and Karl of course.” Satisfied, Lilu-ye smiled and set to work sanding Kim’s paddle.

  “Hey, Dot, c’mere and look at this sail, will ya’? Is this what you were after?” Ooligan spread the canvas out on the grass. The sail took on the shape of a large clamshell as she unwrapped its accordion folds. Dot climbed out of the hull where she’d been lashing the last of the three mast-steps to the frame. Tucking the leather strips into her pocket, she stepped over the cockpit and stood next to Oolie with her hands on her hips, studying the sail. Ooligan pointed toward the base, where the battens would meet the mast once they bent on the sail. “I’m pretty sure that I got them long enough this time. What do you think—wanna try it out?”

  Dot nodded and the two women lifted the scalloped sail upright, carrying it to the baidarka. Pasha glanced up from his stitching, clambered over the pile of old sail material and grabbed one of the masts that lay beside the boat. He carefully stepped it into its slot and twisted until a solid thunk echoed inside the hull. Ooligan and Pasha held the fabric as Dot fastened the gaskets around the mast. They stepped back and admired the new fan-shaped sail that rose from the baidarka’s deck like a peacock’s tail. “Bravo—one down, two more to go!” Oolie exclaimed. Dot smiled; it was her first attempt at sail design and she was pleased that her creation worked. Climbing into the c
ockpit once more, she squeezed herself underneath the decking. Muffled exchanges between Ooligan and Pasha drifted into the hull as she sweated with the lashings. She detected a new voice in the conversation and identified the low cadence of Adili’s accent. Dot pulled herself out of the mid-section cockpit, wiped the perspiration off her brow and waved at Adili.

  “I see progress is being made. This sail design is most unusual. How does it work?” Adili asked. Dot connected two her leather straps, attaching an end to the outside batten of the sail, she sat back in the cockpit and pulled on the strap: The sail pivoted toward her. Pointing to the opposite side, she mimed pulling a strap the same way. Adili nodded his head. “This is a remarkable design.”

  Ooligan picked up her second sail and walked over to Adili. “That’s not all—check out this slick feature.” Oolie flipped the sail she was holding upside down, spreading the battens out into a circle and brought the clamshell shape together at its ends. The upside-down sail became a conical tent. “Isn’t this great? Y’know, we should’ve thought of this years ago.”

  Pasha set his canvas down and stood, squinting toward the channel. He pointed toward the water, past where Dot’s boat bobbed along the shore. “I think that Saka is wanting for you to play, no?” Dot saw a black and white fluke slap the water. Tossing her gloves and straps into the boat, she walked toward the channel. Saka surfaced a hundred yards out and flapped his pectoral fin on the waves as he splashed sideways.

  “He’s sort of like a kitten when he gets playful, isn’t he?” Ooligan said. “A great big, seven-thousand-kilo kitty.”

  Dot spotted several spare paddles laying near the kayaks. She motioned to the baidarka and pointed Saka. Adili asked, “Are you wanting to know if Oolie and I want to go with you to see this whale?” Dot shook her head, pointing to where Pasha stood. “Ah, just the three of us? But your Saka does not know us. How will he react?” Dot nodded her head and gestured again to the baidarka. Ooligan sprinted over to the paddles and grabbed three. “I don’t know about you, Kenyan… but I’m game for this!”

  Pasha smiled, lifted the mast and sail from the hull and grabbed the baidarka’s prow. “Count me in.”

  Adili squinted and looked skeptically at the fin. He sighed and mumbled, “Never let it be said that a Maasai warrior would be outdone by a scrawny Russian.” He lifted a beaded necklace from around his neck. “Hold onto this for me please. There’s a photo of my wife and child in the locket—I never wear it into the water.” He picked up the stern and, hefting it onto his shoulder, followed Pasha to the shore's edge where Ooligan waited with paddles. Dot smiled watching her friends launch the boat and venture out to where Saka frolicked in the deeper water.

  The sound of gravel under foot startled her and she turned as Reba walked toward her. Reba held her palm over her forehead and watched the fetchers interact with the orca. Ooligan shrieked with delight as Saka dove beneath the baidarka and surfaced with a full-bodied spy hop. The whale fell back into the water, drenching the boat and its occupants with a ten-foot column of water. Even Adili laughed with enjoyment at the soaking, “Kubwa!”

  Reba shook her head and smiled, “A good omen, that.” Without turning her gaze away from the antics on the water, she asked, “Dot, in your adopted language, Saka’s kind are called ‘sgáan’, correct?” She glanced at the girl for confirmation and Dot nodded yes. Reba tilted her head to one side; lost in thought as she looked across the channel. Eventually she said, “In the tongue of my ancestors, the orca are called ‘ska’ana.’ Did you know that they are considered extremely good luck by our people?” She pointed in the direction of Saka, “It has long been held that, at one time, orcas would capture canoes and take them under the water to transform the occupants into ska’ana. For that reason, we have always believed that an orca near the shore is actually a human—transformed—trying to communicate with his or her family." She looked over at Dot and smiled at the girl’s wide-eyed fascination. “What do you think of that?” They stood together on the shore and regarded the whale interacting with the fetchers for several minutes. Reba murmured quietly—almost as if to herself, “It’s also said that to be splashed by a ska’ana—like Saka out there—will ensure great luck and happiness because they are the guardians of the ocean and all who travel upon it. And so, I believe that this is quite a good thing, what’s taking place out there.”

  Dot beamed as she listened to Reba speak of old legends. She turned her attention to her friends and her companion. She’d never given much thought to the lore of the sgáan. It had always been enough for her—the gift of Saka’s friendship. She’d never attributed any special meaning to it, but now felt an overwhelming sense of pride, knowing that Saka was held in such high regard by others. Reba turned to go, then paused and looked at the girl standing alone on the beach, recalling another significance of the ska’ana: That important chiefs were often reincarnated into orca when they died, returning as messenger spirits to guide the chosen ones. Reba considered sharing the story with Dot, but something held her back. It’s best to leave that myth alone for now. She’ll find her own truth as she needs it.

  That evening the village held a special ceremony to bless the boats that were being prepared to travel south. The elders smudged the vessels with sacred herbs and sang a prayer song over the travelers’ paddles. A feast was laid out for the village inside the council house. A heavy firepit, forged from one of the mining camp buckets, was carried into the chamber by strong men. Its walls of steel were thick and held several trunks of cedar. The glowing cinders wafted their way skyward through the large hole in the chamber.

  Dot held Táan’s new paddle in both hands, turning it to admire the craftsmanship. His carving on the spoon-shaped blade depicted an eagle. Dot traced the fine etchings of the curved beak with her index finger, nodding in appreciation. Táan sipped his ale, watching Dot inspect his work with a look of pride on his face. Kim sat on the ground, his back propped against the bench—his bulky cast had been replaced with a lighter version and he stretched his leg out, pleased with the extra mobility. Pasha, Lilu-ye and Asa sat next to him, passing bowls of roasted hazelnuts back and forth.

  Reba rose from her seat near the fire and held up her cup. She cleared her throat and spoke loudly. “Friends and family, we are here tonight to bestow blessings on these vessels that will carry our friends south. We hope for their safe return and for the success of the mission.” Cheers erupted from the assemblage and shouts of “Hurray!” and “Kádlaa!” echoed through the room. Reba held up her other hand in a plea for quiet. “and it also falls upon us to commend the bravery of those who will travel with Mr. Chen. She pointed her glass at Táan and Dot. “This was not a quest that either of them had foreseen, nor was it one that they particularly wanted. Let’s say ‘ja háw'aa’ to our courageous friends for accepting the burden that has been laid upon their shoulders.” Everyone stood and applauded. Táan looked over at Dot and winked. Blushing, she smiled back and ducked her head, feeling suddenly bashful. Reba resumed her speech, “Some of you are familiar with the saying our elders have taught us: ‘It’s often those no one believes in, who will dare to accomplish the unbelievable.’ This applies to many of us standing here tonight.” The room quieted as Reba continued. “And it might as well apply to our hope of taking on the might of HighTower. We, who are so insignificant—we, who no one expects anything of—it is exactly those like us, who can achieve the unexpected. Am I correct?” She spread out her arms, inviting the crowd to agree—which they vociferously complied. Reba allowed the cheering to run its course, then waved her hands in an effort moderate the enthusiasm. She concluded by saying, “In any event—and especially in this case—let us hope that the old saying from our ancestors proves to be true.” She lifted her cup and said, “I learned this Maori phrase from my husband, and since I know you’re all eager for him to lead us in the Ka Mate, I’ll end with it: ‘Waimarie pai, rōpū wikitoria—good luck to our brave champions!’”

  Cheers
of “Bravo Dot! Hurray for Táan and Kim!” rang through the council house. Several voices in the crowd started chanting, “Ka Mate! Ka Mate! Ka Mate!” Soon almost everyone in the room repeated the refrain, their voices growing louder with every phrase. The villagers stamped their feet on the ground in rhythm until finally, Kai set his drink on the bench and stood in front of the fire, shouting, “Alright, alright! Faaaaaa! Calm down, you crazed bunch of heathens! I swear, it’s like you pakeha Natives never did a war dance before!” Dot looked at Táan who stared back with his eyebrows raised and simply shrugged. Dot was tempted to laugh at her friends’ behavior. Suddenly, Kai jumped into the air with a loud shriek, landed legs apart, arms stretched above his head. His stance reminded Dot of an angry grizzly bear. Silhouetted against the flames, he methodically stomped his feet and folded his arms in front of his face; stacking one atop the other, opening and shutting his arms. Dot watched Kai’s eyeballs bulge and his tongue protrude from his mouth. In a low and gravelly voice, Kai began to chant in time to his stamping feet, “Ah! Ka Mate! Ka Mate! Kao-ra, kao-ra!” He waved his hands and fingers in the air and then slapped them hard onto his legs. The villagers imitated his gestures and Dot turned to see her friends’ faces transform into fierce and terrible warriors. “Ka ora! Ka ora!” Kai shouted strange words that Dot had never heard. Through the stomping and slapping of hands on thighs, she began to understand the strength, if not the meaning, of the chants. Kai threw one arm into the air, twisted his stance into a sideways, spear-throwing gesture and screamed. “Upane! Ka upane! Whiti te ra! Hi!” His cry was returned by everyone in the room—even Táan had joined in. Adili stood like stone beside Dot and his eyes burned with a wild, far-away look. Dot searched the group for Kim and observed the scientist leaning on Pasha’s shoulder, shrieking and waving his free hand in the air with a defiant expression. She lifted her arm above her head and made a fist, and stomped in solidarity with those around her.