Hero of Hawaii

by Graham Salisbury

  I popped up on the other side.

  Willy bobbed ahead of me.

  “Willy!” I called.

  He looked back, still clinging to the branch.

  “Hang on! I’m coming!”

  I grabbed the cables and dragged the oars into the boat. The skiff spun. I got the oars into the oarlocks and tried to turn the skiff around and head straight out so I wouldn’t cross the sandbar sideways and flip over.

  Three boys onshore spotted us and ran through the trees at the top of the sandy rise. Streak ran with them.

  I tried to row, but the skiff kept spinning in the current.

  Right where the river emptied into the ocean, the water sank into itself, then rolled back up and over in a wild mud-water wall.

  Willy hit it head-on. It sucked him under. Pieces of the branch he was hanging on to shot up above the surface, then vanished.

  The boys onshore jumped up and down, yelling, pointing.

  I dug my right oar in to turn the boat. If I hit that wall sideways it would tip me over and I’d get sucked under like Willy.

  The skiff turned just as I hit it.

  Boom!

  I let go of the oars and grabbed the sides of the boat, hanging on as the skiff shot into the air. It came smashing down on the other side, swirling in the foamy confusion.

  But I was still in it!

  I dragged the oars into the skiff. “Willy! Where are you?”

  Nowhere.

  I caught a glimpse of Clarence and Stella racing down onto the beach.

  I started rowing, looking for Willy. I gave it all the muscle I had, but the raging current sucked the skiff out toward Flat Island, a pancake-shaped piece of land, the only solid ground between the beach and a few thousand miles of open ocean.

  Onshore, I saw Streak race into the waves.

  “No!” I shouted. “Streak, stay!”

  “Calvin!”

  I whipped around.

  Willy!

  He raised a hand. “Help!”

  He was behind me, just beyond the swirling wall of the muddy river. I squinted, my eyes stung by the wind that spat needles of white water off the sea. Willy’d lost the branch.

  He sank, came back up.

  And went under again.

  “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

  I struggled to keep the oars in the oarlocks, then put my back into it, trying to dig deep and pull with all my strength. When you row, you sit backwards. You can’t see what’s in front of you. I had to keep looking over my shoulder.

  Find Willy!

  The wild whitecaps slammed me around, waves banging the hull.

  Somehow I got the skiff headed back toward Willy, and now Streak, who was swimming into a mess she might not survive.

  On the beach, Clarence ripped off his shirt. It was crazy, but he was coming in. I hoped he was a strong swimmer. We were a long way out.

  “Cal—” Willy called.

  One second I could see him, the next he was lost in the chop. But he was struggling to swim to me.

  The muscles in my arms burned. I was barely managing to keep the skiff from blowing out to sea.

  Inch by inch, we closed the gap.

  When I got close enough I stopped rowing.

  Willy was losing it; his arms barely made it out of the water. “Just a little more, Willy! ” I knelt and reached over the side.

  But the wind pushed the skiff away.

  I sat back and rowed again, looking over my shoulder.

  “Stay up! Willy, stay up! ”

  I threw down the oars and hung over the side, reaching out.

  Willy looked at me … and sank.

  “No! ”

  I jumped overboard and dove down. I grabbed him and dragged him to the surface. He gasped and clawed at me, pulling me down.

  “No, Willy! Don’t!”

  But he was desperate.

  I went under and he let go.

  I came back up and grabbed him from behind. “I got you, Willy, I got you!”

  The wind had taken the skiff away from us. Too far to reach.

  My arm banged something hard.

  An oar!

  I grabbed it and hung on with one hand, my other hand gripping Willy’s T-shirt.

  “Okay, listen. I’m going to let you go. Hang on to my back! ” I shouted.

  Willy nodded and grabbed my shoulders.

  With both hands, I pulled us toward the skiff by the cable attached to the oar. I gripped the stern and hung in the water a second, breathing hard. Willy let go and tried to pull himself aboard. But the skiff tipped toward him, taking on water.

  “Willy, no!”

  But Willy wouldn’t let go.

  I pulled him away, but the skiff was half sunk. It was still floating, but all we could do now was hang on and wait for help.

  I couldn’t see Streak in the chop.

  Or Clarence.

  If I couldn’t see him, would he see us?

  Willy and I hung on as the wind and the current took us farther out to sea.

  We were closing in on Flat Island, but it was so small we would miss it unless we could somehow break free from the current and change course. With a half-sunk boat that we couldn’t even get into, that would be almost impossible without help.

  Flat Island was close enough to swim to. But did Willy have the strength to try?

  I turned back toward the beach. I saw Mom and Darci, other people, Willy’s parents, and two police cars.

  “Willy!” I shouted. “You doing okay?”

  He nodded.

  Then I remembered Streak!

  I kicked to get higher in the water. “Streak!”

  She was close, bobbing in the chop, swimming toward us. She looked like a wet rat.

  Past Streak, I caught a glimpse of Clarence. His stroke looked strong.

  “Over here!” I called.

  Streak finally made it.

  I got hold of her and wrestled her up. She scrabbled into the half-sunk skiff.

  Clarence swam hard the last few yards. “You two all right?”

  “Yeah.” I gulped a breath. “But Willy … almost drowned.”

  “I’m … so … tired,” Willy mumbled.

  Clarence looked into the skiff, then back at the beach. He waved to the people onshore, gave them a thumbs-up.

  “Listen,” he said. “We going put your friend inside with the dog, then we pull the boat to that small island. Can you do that? You still strong?”

  “Think so.”

  “We go.”

  Together, Clarence and I pushed Willy up into the skiff.

  Clarence got the oar that was in the boat. “Grab the other one! We pull.” With all the water in the skiff, we might as well have been trying to pull a container barge. But it was the only way.

  We turned on our backs, gripped the oar cables, and kicked toward Flat Island.

  Inch by inch.

  Straining, pulling.

  Muscles burning.

  We pulled into a small cove and dragged the boat up onto a coral beach. Streak ran up onto the island. It was flat, like its name, about five feet above the water.

  We helped Willy out of the skiff. His teeth were chattering.

  Clarence nodded toward a sheltered spot out of the wind. “Put him over there.”

  Willy sat with his knees up, his arms and head resting on them.

  “Stay with him,” Clarence said. “Try to warm him up. I get the water out of that boat.”

  He dragged the skiff higher up and tipped the water out.

  I rubbed Willy’s arms. His lips were blue. I wondered if the golden Buddha would say Don’t worry, be happy now. Prob’ly.

  Streak came back and leaned up against me, trembling.

  “You crazy dog. You swam out to save me, didn’t you?”

  She licked my face.

  Clarence came back to help me rub Willy warm.

  “Was brave, what you did,” Clarence said to me.

  I stared at Willy’s pale fa
ce, his blue lips. It wasn’t brave, it was terrifying. Willy could have drowned.

  “Very, very dangerous, this kind of water,” Clarence said, working on Willy’s legs. “The current, undertow, sharp stuff floating in the water. Hard to swim. Get tired fast. Easy to drown.” He lifted his chin toward Willy. “But you did um anyway.”

  “So did you.”

  Clarence put his hand on my head and gave me a little shove. “Good team, us.”

  A rescue truck arrived at the beach, lights swirling. A guy jumped out, grabbed a red float, and headed down into the water. “Someone’s going to swim out to us,” I said.

  Clarence stood up and waved his arm back and forth. Then he held up a thumb. But the guy kept on swimming toward us.

  “Why you doing that?” I asked. “Can anyone see us?”

  “They got binoculars.”

  Clarence sat down, holding Willy against him. “How you doing, brah?” Willy nodded.

  Clarence looked at the sky. “Storm moving on.”

  “Good,” I said. “Enough bad weather for a while.”

  Clarence chuckled. “Keep rubbing his legs. Willy, talk to us. How you doing?”

  Willy opened his eyes. “Okay,” he whispered.

  “Good. You going be fine. Help coming.”

  The chop on the ocean seemed to be dying down.

  Willy dozed off for a second, then snapped his eyes open. They were red and squinty.

  The guy with the float was almost halfway now.

  Clarence raised his chin toward the skiff. “Those oars? If you didn’t have those cables, the boy would be gone.”

  I cringed at how close I’d come to cutting them off!

  “Smart, you.”

  “Ledward thought of it.”

  “Your mama’s boyfriend?”

  “Yeah. You know him?”

  Clarence shook his head. “Only from Stella.”

  “What’d she say?”

  He chuckled. “She said your house would fall apart if he stopped coming over.”

  “What?” I nearly choked. All Stella ever did was complain about Ledward, except to say he cooked good. “Stella said that?”

  Clarence nodded. “You and your family lucky. I know plenny houses falling apart.”

  I gaped at him. “You sure we’re talking Stella?”

  Clarence laughed. “Funny, you.”

  Stella had stood up for Ledward. Unbelievable.

  But she was right. Ledward was always doing something around our house, including telling me how I should help out. Cut the grass. Do the dishes. Take the trash out. Clean the garage. Water the plants. “Your home is like your body,” he said once. “You keep it good, it keeps you good.”

  Willy coughed and spat up some liquid.

  Clarence rubbed his back. “You swallowed some dirty water, boy.”

  Willy nodded. “Tastes like dirt.”

  Clarence and I looked up when we heard the helicopter.

  The rescue helicopter settled down on Flat Island. I covered my head. I’d never seen one so close. It was loud! Its rotors shot stinging sand in my face.

  Streak cowered.

  Two men jumped out and ran toward us. Their name tags said STEVENSON and HIRANO.

  Hirano carried a white medical kit. He squatted to look at Willy.

  “Anyone still in the water?” Stevenson shouted over the noise of the helicopter.

  I pointed to the rescue swimmer. “Just that guy.”

  Stevenson signaled that everything was all right. The swimmer waved, turned, and headed back to shore.

  “Everybody here!” Clarence shouted. “But Willy needs help!”

  Stevenson and Hirano took Willy’s temperature and checked him out. Hirano put everything back in the medical kit. “Temperature is down, but he seems okay. Probably swallowed a lot of water. Might be some bacteria that could make him sick.”

  Willy tried to struggle up.

  “Hold on,” Stevenson said. “We’ll carry you.”

  Hirano jogged back to the helicopter.

  “Is he going to be all right?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Stevenson said. “We just have to warm him up and check him out.”

  Hirano came back with a litter. They loaded Willy on it. Willy had enough left in him to grin.

  I made a fist. “See you soon, bud.”

  “There’s room for all of you,” Stevenson said. “Even the dog.”

  Clarence turned toward the skiff. “We fine. We got to bring the boat back.”

  Stevenson looked at me. “That okay with you?”

  I nodded. “It’s not so stormy now.”

  “That was a wild one, wasn’t it?”

  “Crazy wild.”

  Stevenson and Hirano took Willy to the helicopter. They set him down inside and turned to wave.

  Clarence and I watched them rise into the sky.

  The pulsing sound faded as they flew back over the beach. Willy’s parents headed up to their car.

  “Where are they taking him?” I asked.

  “Hospital, prob’ly. We’ll find out.”

  We watched until we couldn’t see them anymore.

  For the first time I started thinking about Mom. How worried she must be … and how much trouble I would be in.

  “Come!” Clarence said. “We go home.”

  We carried the boat to the water. Streak jumped aboard. I got in and sat with her in the bow. Clarence pushed off, set the oars in the oarlocks, and began to row through the choppy water.

  Flat Island shrank behind us. Funny, I thought. I’d seen that island for years and had never been out to it. Never even thought much about it. But I loved it now. It had saved me and Willy … and Streak!

  “What you going do when we get back?” Clarence asked over his shoulder.

  “Get killed by Mom.”

  “Killed!” He laughed. “For what?”

  “Scaring her.”

  Clarence rowed. The muscles in his back rippled. His tattooed shoulders spanned from one side of the skiff to the other. “Maybe you scared her,” he said, “but she won’t be angry.”

  “How do you know?”

  “No mama going be angry at a son with courage.”

  “Courage? What if it was just stupid?”

  “You call saving your friend stupid?”

  “No, I meant—”

  “You know what I going do?” Clarence said.

  “What?”

  “Go home. Take a hot shower. Eat.”

  I hugged Streak close. She’d stopped trembling.

  Yep. Mom was going to kill me.

  Clarence maneuvered the skiff like an expert.

  I looked over my shoulder at the beach. A small crowd was waiting: Mom, Stella, Darci, Clarence’s cousin Rudy the cop, the rescue truck crew, the boys who’d watched me sail out to sea, and some other people.

  “Hang on,” Clarence said.

  I turned back just as he dug the oars into the water and pulled hard, one, two, three times. Then, using the oars like rudders, we caught a wave and sailed in, all the way to the beach.

  The bow thunked sand.

  The crowd clapped and cheered.

  The three boys ran up to grab the skiff.

  Streak jumped out and ran up the beach. Clarence stowed the oars, and the two of us stepped out into the water.

  Stella ran down and flung her arms around Clarence. “Whoa,” he said. “I not going anywhere.”

  “I can’t believe you did that!” Stella said.

  “What? Catch a wave with the boat?”

  “No, silly, swim out to get Calvin and Willy!”

  Clarence waved that off. “Pfff. Anybody do that.”

  Mom and Darci crushed me with hugs as everyone crowded in around us.

  Clarence put his big hand on my head. “This boy one hero.”

  I looked down. I sure didn’t feel like a hero. I just felt tired.

  Mom looked at me, her eyes shiny with tears.

  What? Did I have
blood on me or something? I rubbed my face and looked at my fingers. No blood.

  “Mom?”

  “Thank heaven you’re safe,” she whispered. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  “I’m fine, Mom, I—”

  “Shhh,” she said. “Not now, Calvin. Just come home.”

  She pushed me away and looked at me. “How’s Willy?”

  “Fine, Mom. They took him in the helicopter. He swallowed a lot of water.”

  “Oh, no … not that filthy river water.”

  “Yeah.”

  She winced.

  I turned toward my skiff. Clarence already had it figured out. “We carry um,” he said. “You and me. Easy.”

  I looked back at Mom. She didn’t want to leave me.

  But she nodded, took Darci’s hand, and walked back up the sand. “Come home right now.”

  “I will.”

  Rudy the cop came down and shook with Clarence, local style. “Howzit, cousin?”

  Clarence flicked his eyebrows. “I wasn’t speeding, Officer, promise.”

  Rudy humphed, then turned to me. “I thought I told you to stay home … or was I just talking to myself?”

  I looked down.

  Rudy said, “I let you off this time, kid, but next—”

  “I didn’t mean to. Really, I just—”

  Rudy and Clarence laughed. “He only joking,” Clarence said, shoving me gently with his big hand. “Ne’mind him. We got a boat to carry.”

  Rudy smiled. “You two did good.”

  Stella looked at me. “Were you scared?”

  Had I been?

  “No,” I said. “I didn’t think about it.”

  But I prob’ly should have been, I thought. If you live near the ocean the first thing you’d better know is how to get out of trouble in the water. I was pretty good at it, but Willy sure wasn’t.

  “What you did was brave.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Stella had said something nice to me.

  Clarence clapped his hand on my shoulder. “The hero of Hawaii.” He squeezed.

  I looked up at Clarence. “I didn’t even know you could swim like that. I mean, that was a long way out.”