by Toby Neal
“Glad you brought food!”
Typical little brother. She smiled with relief. “We’ve got a great breakfast with what Nick caught and Jaden brought from home.”
They took a break, sitting in the shade. Everyone ate while Sam excitedly shared his plans for the boat—mast and sail from the windsurfer, inserted through the mast mount hole in the aluminum frame and held in place with rope. Trampoline platform resurrected from washed-up nets. Rudder already under construction.
“Seems like you’ve done a lot, but there’s still more to do,” Jaden said. He sat in the sand with them, resting his wiry brown arms on his knees as he looked at the boat. “The question I have is—why are you doing this? You guys can stay with us as long as you want.”
Sam took a big bite of his musubi, his eyes down, leaving Bea to answer.
“I know, Jaden. Your family is awesome. But—we need to get over there to our aunty and uncle’s house, be with our own family. Maybe that’s where Dad went, too.”
Jaden tightened his mouth. “Your dad left you guys. You should stay with us. We’ll look out for you.”
Sam and Jeremy stood up and walked away, fiddling with the rudder—apparently the conversation was too much for them. Nick went down to the ocean and washed his hands. Bea took another bite of her musubi and chewed, swallowing past the lump in her throat.
“It’s not you guys—it’s about family.” Bea might be mad at her dad—and if she took the time to think about it, she knew she was—but she couldn’t find the words to explain. “We really just want to get to our aunty and uncle’s house. We belong there. We don’t want to be a burden to you.”
“Sorry. I understand. If it were me, I’d want to be with my family, too.” Jaden’s eyes were downcast. “I’ll just miss you; that’s all.”
“I know. I’ll miss you, too.” All the words Bea couldn’t figure out how to say lay silently between them, and she fiddled with the ti leaf the rice snack had been wrapped in.
“Is Nick going with you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you should find out.”
Jeremy and Sam had begun hauling the sail and mast over to the boat.
“Time to get back to work,” Bea said, standing up. “Maybe we can even sail out of here tomorrow.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sam awoke long before it was morning. They had planned to get everything set and move the boat across the shallow expanse of reef and take off at first light, before the wind really kicked up across the Kalohi Channel.
He rolled over and looked below.
“What?” Bea was awake. “Can we go yet?”
“I think so.” Even without his little battery-operated watch, burned out like everything else in the solar event, Sam could sense a change in the light that told him dawn was coming.
He slid out of the bunk and she out of hers. Nick woke silently and stood, shaking out his clothes as they rolled their nylon sleeping bags up for the last time. Sam used the barbeque lighter for a couple of seconds, preserving the fuel, to shine a light around and make sure he’d packed everything in the shack.
They trudged through the cool sand to the Hobie. With the five of them pushing, yesterday they’d been able to roll it across driftwood logs as Nick had suggested and position it just in front of the tiny purling waves that rolled across the shallow expanse of the early-morning reef.
The boat looked a little kapakahi, a Hawaiian word for mishmash or “anykine.” But to Sam, the resurrected Hobie was evidence he could do something. Bad foot or not, youngest or not, he’d been the one to direct the others yesterday.
The mast rose straight and proud, lashed in several places to the platform with the super strong climbing rope Bea had found in the plane luggage. The windsurfer sail, while a lot smaller than a sixteen-foot catamaran would normally need, should still be more than adequate to get them across the nine open ocean miles to Molokai in just a few hours. He’d rigged it with rope going from the eye of the boom to clamps on either corner of the trampoline frame. They’d restrung the seven-foot square of the trampoline with pieces of fishing net woven with the rope Nick had lugged from Dad’s shed to make a slightly sagging but sturdy sitting area.
All five of them had tried climbing aboard and jumping up and down, and the platform had held. That had been the last moment that they’d laughed together, just before Jeremy and Jaden had said goodbye, taking Rainbow with them. Sam tried not to think about how hard that had been. Bea had cried in the dark in her sleeping bag. He and Nick had pretended not to hear.
As they’d planned, they loaded four gallon jugs of water on board, way more than they’d need for the brief sail across the Channel. Sam had made that crossing in just a couple of hours in his uncle’s fishing boat, but Jaden said it might take up to four hours with their small sail—he’d sailed it before on an outrigger canoe. Still, it was always better to be safe than sorry when dealing with the ocean.
Sam strung the gallon jugs on a loop of rope and tied them down while Bea stowed their sleeping bags, backpacks, and food supplies in the netting near the mast. She wrapped the items in a large piece of tarpaulin and tied it down, hopefully enough to keep any overspray out. Nick pulled the last of the wood out from under the gunnels.
Lastly, they stowed their fishing gear aft near the rudder along with an old oar and paddle. Bea planned to troll for fish all the way to Molokai so they’d arrive with plenty to eat.
Sam hopped down and walked around, looking for anything else they might need or have missed. He spotted the single life preserver Bea had brought from one of the other fishing shacks. It was one of the Styrofoam ring types used on boats, printed with Lucky Lady on the sun-shot canvas cover.
It was better than nothing if one of them fell overboard, and hopefully they wouldn’t need it. He found an extra hank of rope, tied on the ring and attached it to the mast, stowing it on board.
Bea hopped down from the boat. “I’m glad I said goodbye to Rainbow last night. I think it would be really hard to do that this morning.”
“I know,” Sam said. The sweet-faced chestnut mare had looked puzzled when Jaden and Jeremy mounted her instead of Bea and Sam. She refused to move until Bea yelled and smacked her on the rump, making the mare jump into a trot that carried the other two boys out of sight. “They’ll take good care of her.”
“I know. I just…” She sighed. “I love that horse.”
“We’ll see her again. Let’s get going.”
“I guess this is the moment of truth.” Nick stood on the beach beside them. “Can I come with you?”
Bea’s fern-green eyes were wide, innocent. “I think we can use his strength,” she said to Sam, pretend casual. Sam looked at Nick. The older boy’s face was carefully blank, but Sam could see how much he wanted to come in the way he leaned forward.
“You said you’d earn your place with us, and you did,” Sam said.
“Yes!” Nick exclaimed, and they all laughed in relief. Sam realized in that moment that if Nick had chosen to, they couldn’t have stopped him from coming anyway. He was bigger than both of them combined.
The deep blue of night was giving way to violet-gray, lightening dramatically over Maui off to the east. The first yellow glow topped the West Maui mountain range and reached across to warm the dark of Molokai, their destination, into a shape like a humpback whale rising from the depths of the ocean. The nine miles of water between Lanai and Molokai glittered smooth as obsidian. Surely it was just a short distance. They’d be seeing their cousins in no time.
The three of them got behind the frame of the boat and pushed it down into the water. Several of the long branches of driftwood they’d used to roll the boat to the edge remained and they rolled beneath the twin hulls until the boat rested on the reef.
The reef stretched before them, fifty yards of flat water just inches deep, moguled with tide pools, coral heads, and lacy at the far edge where it met the sea with a necklace of foamy breaking waves.
They were halfway across the reef, applying muscle to the back of the frame as the hulls caught in a pool again, when Sam heard a voice call, “Wait!”
They stopped and turned to see who was coming.
Bea’s heart thumped hard, leaping up into her throat—not just from the exertion, but from the sight of Jaden running toward them down the beach.
Good, Beosith said, from somewhere watery and deep nearby. The boy will be a help.
Jaden already wore his tabis and carried a heavy-looking backpack, but he hardly slowed, splashing at a trot across the reef until he reached them.
“I’m coming with you.” He slung the backpack into the net of the trampoline.
“What?” Sam said. “Your parents will never let you.”
“I left them a note. It’s going to be fine. Figured you could use an extra pair of hands that know the ocean.”
“I don’t know why you think this is a good idea. Your parents are going to freak,” Bea said. Nick was silent.
“They won’t. In fact, I heard Papa talking last night about wanting to find out what’s going on in the rest of the world. I figure I’ll go over with you, help you get settled, see what’s going on, catch a boat back, give everyone a report.” He brushed sweaty hair off his forehead, brown eyes sparkling with excitement. “Didn’t really think you could leave me behind, did you?” he whispered to Bea.
“Guess not.” She turned away, smiling. “Hope you brought your own food.”
“Sure did, and some extra for you guys, too. And water.” He unzipped the loaded backpack to show them. “You don’t know how tempting it was to ride Rainbow down here this morning, but I couldn’t put Jeremy in the position of taking her back and having to cover for me.”
“So you admit you’re going to be in trouble for this,” Bea said, as the four of them put their shoulders to the aluminum frame, lifting the hull out of the pool it had been stuck in.
“Oh yeah. But I’m hoping the news I come back with is so good, they’ll forgive me.”
The light craft, no more than three hundred and fifty pounds spread over sixteen feet of double hull, was easy to push after they dislodged it. At the edge of the reef, before the imposing deep blue of the Kalohi Channel began, Sam clambered aboard and loosened the windsurfer sail. It belled to port, catching the slight early-morning breeze, and the craft lifted forward.
“Get on!” Sam yelled, and the three teens each scrambled onto the hulls and into the trampoline. Sam took a seat on the trampoline, taking hold of his makeshift tiller in one hand and the rope running through a cleat that controlled the sail in the other.
“We go!” Jaden’s grin was wide as the moon and twice as shiny. Bea couldn’t help laughing with excitement, and Nick grinned, trailing a hand in the smooth water as he leaned out from the hull.
Bea crawled forward and stowed Jaden’s backpack inside the cocoon of tarpaulin covering their other gear. She looked through the four-inch holes in the netting to the dark blue of the ocean below, sliding swiftly by—and deep beneath, a long black shadow tracked them.
Her heart seized, her hands stilled—and she heard Beosith’s voice in her mind. It’s me—I didn’t leave you.
“Oh, thank God,” she whispered, watching the shadow of the dragon arrow along beneath them, unbelievably graceful and swift as a porpoise. The breeze freshened against her cheeks, and the smell of salt water filled her with profound happiness.
“What do you see down there?” Jaden asked. He was rigging three short, sturdy fishing poles for trolling, tying large hooks into steel leaders and baiting them with opihi flesh.
“Thought I saw a dolphin. Must have just been a shadow,” Bea said.
“We’ll probably see dolphins,” Sam said. “We usually did when Uncle and I went out in the Channel.”
Bea looked back at Lanai. Nick was looking at it, too, and they smiled at each other. The island towered behind them, a smoothly rounded dome brightening to ochre at the crest with the sunrise. Rain-carved gullies were deep purple shadows in the dim light, the crest of the island with its crown of cloud unexpectedly beautiful and as dear as family to Bea.
She raised her hand in a silent goodbye.
Chapter Twenty
Nick took the fishing rig Jaden handed him. It was nothing more than a stout stick with a ball of line wrapped around it and a big baited hook with a couple of weights above it.
“Drop it down and just let the momentum of the boat pull out the line,” Bea said, turning around in the net and letting hers pay out behind the cat.
Nick pretended to be fumbling a bit just so he could look around some more. He’d never been sailing before, never been on the ocean. He’d been on the pier, looked at Lake Michigan, which was big enough to pretend it was the ocean, but it didn’t smell like this. Didn’t have this vitality, vibrancy of color, sense of life. Even as he looked toward their destination, he saw a plume of water go high into the air.
“What’s that?” He pointed.
“Whale,” Bea said casually.
Nick couldn’t imagine being casual about something like that. He wondered how close they’d get to the whale, if he’d be able to see it, if it was dangerous. He bit his tongue on his questions, catching Jaden’s contemptuous glance.
“Fish on!” Jaden yelled suddenly, setting his hook just as something hit Bea’s line as well. She yelped, yanking the tip of her stick up to keep the line tight.
Both of them were fully occupied with fish when the little craft hit the first wind line, and the cat heeled hard to one side, surging forward and beginning to lift onto one hull.
“Get to starboard!” Sam yelled. “I need your weight on this side!”
Bea gave a cry as she lost her grip on the fishing pole and her balance, and Nick thought he was going to have to pitch the rescue ring in after her but she caught herself and clung to the ropes, emitting a string of bad words as her makeshift fishing rig vanished in their wake.
“Don’t swear!” Jaden teased in a high-pitched imitation of Bea’s voice.
“Starboard!” Sam yelled again. Nick wasn’t sure what that meant, but he imitated Bea and Jaden as they crawled over to the far right side of the craft, their weight counterbalancing the pressure on the sail and pushing the hull back into the water.
Jaden was still fighting his fish, and he brought it in close to the boat. Nick reached for the other boy’s line to steady it. He could see it was a blunt-faced, long, tapered shape.
“Mahimahi,” Jaden said, grinning. “Good catch so close to shore. That’s how deep the Channel is. Mahi like the open ocean.”
Jaden worked it in close to the hull, chortling with excitement, and Bea wrapped her hand in a piece of tarpaulin and reached over, grabbing the steel leader and pulling the fish up as Nick grabbed the thrashing tail with his bare hands.
Jaden and Nick lifted as Bea heaved. Together they tossed the three-foot fish, flickering rainbows of distressed bioluminescence, into the net of the trampoline.
Nick gazed at the fish, wonder thickening his tongue. He’d never seen anything like the lively flashes of color zinging back and forth along its greenish length, and it filled him with something like awe—a feeling he hid as Jaden dispatched the fish with a quick blow to the head with the haft of his knife. The mahimahi went limp and silver, rainbows chasing across its body a few more times as the life ebbed from it.
Sam held the tiller steady as Bea took Nick’s unused hand line and tossed it behind the boat. “Mahi are school fish,” she explained. “We should keep our lines out while they’re hitting.”
A few minutes later Bea brought their second fish to the rail, a bullet-shaped, razor-finned, pewter-colored aku. It was only five pounds or so, and she was able to flip it into the netting.
“We can make some mean sashimi.” She dispatched the aku and put it with the mahi.
Nick was the only one watching the fish go from silver to gray as Bea and her friend tossed their lines back out. He tried not to min
d that he’d missed his chance to get his line in the water.
The Hobie cat felt good to Sam, responsive to his hand on the makeshift tiller, the sail filled but the wind pressure stayed solid, moving them forward at about the speed of a man jogging. He wondered how many “knots” that was and why sailing was measured in knots anyway.
If only it would keep up like this—but Sam knew they were still in the island’s wind shadow, and just a couple of hundred yards ahead he could see a sharp demarcation between the smooth water they traversed now and the ruffled wind tunnel ahead that never really turned off, even in the cool of night.
Sam prepared by trimming the sail in tighter, tying it down to the frame near him. Both Bea and Jaden tossed trolling lines out on either side of him while Nick clung to the ropes. Sam looked ahead at Molokai, and the early-morning light brought it suddenly into high relief, a greener, softer, wider flank than the barren red earth of Lanai. So close…Surely they’d be there in just an hour or two.
The wind hit with a smack like a giant cat’s paw, and Sam was very glad he’d tied the sail down because he needed his full strength to cling to the tiller. He tried to hold it steady as the wind and current pushed unrelentingly to port. He was glad he’d had the older kids sit on the starboard side as the cat trembled and tried to lift. The wood vibrated beneath his hands, shuddering, and for the first time he wondered if it was sturdy enough. He thought of his nails, four of them holding the square of plywood to the tiller pole… Maybe he should have added five.
He was the only one to feel the sharp crack and the sudden loose sensation that told him the rudder was gone.
Bea lurched a little as a gust seemed to catch the sail, but she had her knees dug into the netting holes as she threw out her hand line, in a hurry to get another mahi. She held the stick loosely in both hands, letting the line spool out behind the boat—which, now that she noticed, seemed to be curving rather hard to port, running almost directly downwind.
