The Boy Who Met a Whale

by Nizrana Farook

  Zheng popped and unpopped the studs on the map case. He sounded different. Honest. As if he wasn’t trying to sound brave and exciting any more. “I never had much of a home before. I lived with my uncle because I had no parents, but he had a big family and they wanted to get rid of me. After he’d handed me over to the captain I never saw any of them again.”

  Razi’s eyes widened. “What, never?”

  Zheng nodded. “I lived in accommodation close to the docks when we weren’t on the seas. But we were on the sea a lot, and I loved it. I love everything about it – the places we go, the people I’m with, having a family. I’ve sailed all over the world and seen so much. The captain was more of a father to me than my uncle ever was. He took me under his wing and he was so good to me. He taught me to read and write, and I could look at all his books any time I wanted to. We were a merchant ship carrying luxury goods across the world.”

  “What sort of goods?” said Shifa.

  Razi closed his eyes, speaking with a kind of reverence. “We had rolls of the finest silks, threaded in the shiniest of golds and purples and scarlets. Reams of the softest cottons. The brightest ceramics from the world’s best potteries. Great pots of pepper and saffron and cinnamon. And the smells! If only you could know. The fragrance of amber, sandalwood, frankincense, cedar. The fluffiest wool rugs, the sparkliest of emeralds, lapis lazuli, jade…”

  He spoke as if in a dream, and Razi was entranced. It was a world away from his own life.

  “Everything was the best that money could buy. One of the most valuable things we carried was an ancient dagger. It was very famous, very historically important. It had been stolen from a temple years ago and then changed hands over and over for big sums of money. We were carrying it across the world, with some other smaller items in the collection.”

  Zheng paused and rubbed his forehead. “We would never deliver the Dagger of Serendib anyway—”

  “Wait a minute,” said Shifa. “Dagger of Serendib?”

  The name sounded slightly familiar to Razi.

  “Yes, it had belonged to an old Serendib king or something.” Zheng shrugged. “Couldn’t see the appeal myself. It was all dull and old-looking.”

  “Dull and old-looking!” Shifa looked furious. “The Dagger of Serendib is a thousand-year-old historical artefact from our country that was stolen and taken away from its rightful home.”

  “Oh yes!” said Razi, remembering. “We learned about it in school and everything. And it was on your ship?” Razi looked at Zheng with a new-found respect. He really did have something to boast about after all. Even Shifa looked completely staggered.

  Zheng shrugged, but Razi could tell he was extremely pleased at how impressed they were. He took a deep breath, then paused to build suspense. “However,” he began. “The item was fated never to reach its destination. At some point on the journey, it went … missing.”

  “How could something like that just go missing?” said Razi. “From a ship? Someone must have known what happened to it.”

  “Oh yes,” said Zheng. “And that someone is me. The Dagger of Serendib was stolen by the captain.”

  “The captain stole it?” said Razi. “Your captain? The one who was like a father to you?”

  “He wasn’t going to keep it, you understand. He meant to return it.”

  “To whom?” said Shifa.

  “To Serendib. The captain’s one of your countrymen.”

  A prickle of excitement ran up Razi’s spine. Shifa, in spite of her scepticism, was staring, enraptured. Here was Zheng, a total stranger from another world, with a wildly fascinating story that was creeping closer and closer to home with every word.

  “So what happened?” said Razi.

  “Marco, our first mate, suspected the captain right away and he confronted him about it. He’d been planning to steal the dagger for himself, you see – not to do the right thing, but to sell it on when we landed and keep the money for himself. The captain realised this and knew that Marco would stop at nothing to find where he’d hidden the dagger, so when we were passing Serendib – it’s on the shipping route that the trade ships take as we go from east to west – he rowed to an islet off the coast early one morning and buried the treasure in a carved wooden box for safe-keeping.”

  Zheng traced the shape at the top of the map, and Razi realised with a start that it was the very south of the teardrop shape of their own island country.

  “The captain knew the place well as it was where he’d grown up. He only told one person what he’d done. Me. When he returned he drew this map and he told me about it in case anything happened to him. He was very excited when he got back to the ship. He’d been to the islet as a boy thirty years ago, and said it’s amazing how constant and unchanging some things were.”

  Zheng trembled slightly as he began the next part of his story. “What we didn’t know was how much Marco wanted the dagger, and to what extent he’d go to get it. We didn’t know he’d commit mass murder.”

  Shifa let out a gasp.

  “He had to act quickly,” continued Zheng. “Realising that we were due to sail into a storm, Marco and the cook drugged the evening meal so the entire crew would be out of action. That way, he could steal the dagger and escape the ship, and no one would be any the wiser.” Zheng gulped. “The storm would see to that.”

  Razi looked at Shifa. She was transfixed, her hand over her mouth in horror. Zheng took a deep breath and continued. “I was ill that day and couldn’t keep anything down so I didn’t have any of the evening meal. I was up most of the night being sick and heard the storm battering the ship. I went up to help the crew and it was clear immediately that something was wrong. I found Marco coming out of the captain’s room with the map. It was too late to save the ship or anyone in it, so I jumped into the lifeboat Marco and Cook were about to leave in. And I abandoned my ship and the captain and my friends. I left everything I’ve ever loved to be destroyed by the sea.”

  A rough wind blew in from the sea and the door creaked, breaking into the silence that followed Zheng’s story. The boy was bent over, as if lost in the ocean on that dark night with the rain pounding on the waves, and his captain and everyone he loved on the sinking ship.

  “And that’s how you came to be on the boat and landed here,” said Razi.

  Zheng nodded. “The boat was tossed about for hours by the storm. I couldn’t see anything, even the ship. In a way I’m glad I was spared the sight of it breaking up, and the debris, and…” Zheng closed his eyes, as if he couldn’t bear to even imagine it.

  Shifa was thinking hard, trying to collect her thoughts. “Wouldn’t it be better,” she said, “to hand the map to the authorities? Rather than look for the dagger yourself with Marco on your back.”

  “I don’t know if people would believe me, a ship’s boy from nowhere. Besides, there might not be time – what if Marco thinks he can find the dagger without the map? I have to find it first – I will never let them get it. The captain was doing what he felt was important to him, and I’m going to complete his mission no matter what Marco does to stop me.”

  “So if you find the dagger,” said Shifa, watching him closely, “you’ll return it?”

  “Yes,” said Zheng simply. “That’s what the captain would want me to do.”

  Shifa nodded, but Razi wasn’t sure she was convinced.

  “Now that you know everything,” said Zheng, “please take me to the islet, Razi. It would help me so much. This is important to your own country. Don’t you want to be a hero?”

  Razi’s head was spinning. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Be brave!” said Zheng. “Just like those little hatchlings are. Only the other day the captain said to me, Follow the turtle, Zheng. It leads you to good things.”

  “What does that even mean?” said Shifa scornfully. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

  Zheng considered it for a moment. “That’s true, actually. I have no idea what he meant.”

  S
hifa sighed and bit her lip.

  “Sea turtles have a great sense of direction,” said Razi. “That’s how the females can return after twenty years to the beach where they were born. Maybe the captain meant for you to follow the people who will lead you on the right path?”

  “That’s deep,” said Zheng. “You should come with me, Razi.”

  Razi was stricken with panic.

  Zheng was about to say something when Shifa cut in. “He can’t do it. Please stop asking him.”

  “Why not?”

  Shifa shrugged. “I’m sorry. It’s not my story to tell.”

  “It’s all right,” said Razi. “You can tell him.”

  Zheng looked expectantly at Shifa.

  “You were right earlier,” she said. “Razi is a fisherboy who doesn’t fish. Razi doesn’t just love the sea, he’s obsessed with it. His whole life, fishing was all he wanted to do. He used to go on the fishing boats with Father every morning that he didn’t have school, and stilt-fish every sunset. But eight months ago everything changed.”

  Razi dipped his head as he felt the tears coming.

  “Our father died in a freak accident in the deep sea,” said Shifa quietly. “Razi’s not gone back into the water since.”

  The sound of the thrashing waves outside amplified in the silence. Razi looked down into his lap. He hated talking about what had happened, and hearing about it. He hated how it made him feel. How hopeless and angry and … guilty. What Shifa hadn’t told Zheng was that Razi was supposed to have gone with their father that day but had been messing about with his friends and been too late. If he’d been there, could he have done something to save Father?

  Zheng nodded as if he understood. Razi felt a stab of anger, before he realised what Zheng had lost too.

  He felt he had to say something. “There’s no rule that says I have to go back to fishing. I’m happy to stay on land.” Even as he said that he knew it was a lie. He had never been sadder in his life but he couldn’t go into the sea any more. Where before he saw beauty and excitement, now all he saw was ugliness and misery.

  He could never forgive the sea for what it had done.

  “I’m very sorry to hear that.” Zheng hunched down. He looked beaten. “Can I borrow a boat then? I don’t want to use the one I have because it’ll make it easier for Marco to find me.”

  “We don’t have a boat any more,” said Shifa. “Because Father’s… Well, you know.”

  “Oh yes.” Zheng’s face fell.

  “Wait,” said Razi, looking up. “I know where I can get you one. Our father’s friend Nathan is out of town and Mother wanted me to go out in his boat some time. She’s been trying to get me to go with the other fishermen for ages. You could borrow that, then leave it here afterwards.”

  Zheng’s face brightened up at once. “When can I have it?”

  “It’ll have to be first thing tomorrow morning,” said Razi. “When the catch has come in and everyone’s distracted. I’ll be able to get it then and bring it to you.”

  “Thank you!” Zheng beamed. “I’ll take the boat, and then I’ll be on my way!”

  The beach was always a carnival of sound early in the morning when the catch came in. Razi strolled through the bustle wearing a ragged straw hat pulled low over his head to hide his distinctive curly hair. Fishing boats were pulled high up on the beach, their rectangular sails flapping in the wind and great mounds of silvery fish spread out all over the sand. Hawkers yelled and buyers bargained, standing over glassy-eyed seers and mackerels and basses. The breeze was salty with the smell of fresh fish. The traders came first, buying up big batches that they took away in carts, and then servants from the houses in town arrived, carrying away thickly sliced chunks of fish in brass basins to cook for lunch.

  Razi wandered in and out of the crowds, dodging flying scales as fishermen expertly sliced and gutted fish with their sharp, curving knives. He was trying not to draw attention to himself as he made his way to where Nathan’s boat was tied up, but then he saw something that stopped him in his tracks. Razi felt the familiar sadness that he carried everywhere being replaced by a cold, rising anger.

  Father’s spot on the beach had been empty since he’d died, but not today. Today, someone else was in it, haggling with a buyer over a mound of fat prawns. Next to it was a basket of particularly big seer fish with their tails trailing out on the sand. It was one of the newer fishermen in town, Nalaka.

  His father’s friend Sidath, who was selling fish nearby, called, “Come here, boy,” to Razi, as if to spare him the sight.

  “One minute,” said Razi. He felt like a fiery spear had pierced right through his heart. How dare this man move into their spot? It was Father’s and his. It was theirs forever. He walked up to Nalaka and stood staring at him until he stopped bargaining with the person he was with and turned to Razi.

  “Yes? What do you want?” said the man impatiently.

  Razi spoke with a quiet fury. “This spot is taken. You know that. Everyone here knows that.”

  A hush fell over the previously noisy beach. The buyer threw up his hands impatiently.

  “This is a public beach,” said Nalaka. “Anyone can stay anywhere. There’s nothing to mark any spot.”

  Razi felt the heat sear into his heart even more. Father had always said they should never argue with another fisherman, not least because of the very sharp knives that both parties were usually carrying.

  Sidath called over to Nalaka. “Hey, man, that’s Raif’s son. Leave him alone.”

  Nalaka shrugged. “Go away, boy.”

  Razi didn’t budge. “Will you be gone by tomorrow?”

  Nalaka sighed. “No, I won’t be gone by tomorrow! Go away now.”

  “This is my father’s spot!” yelled Razi.

  “Run along before I give you a thrashing!”

  “I will not run along. You need to tell me you’ll not be back here again.”

  “This is nonsense,” said Nalaka, looking irritated. “Accept it, boy, and stop being a baby. Your father’s not coming back. He’s dead.”

  At that, whatever it was that had been keeping Razi’s emotions in check tore apart. He snatched up a large seer by the tail and slammed it hard across Nalaka’s face. The fish hit the man on the cheek with a resounding smack, leaving an imprint of redness and fish scales behind.

  A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

  Nalaka froze, and the crowd fell silent. Sidath put his hands on his head.

  Nalaka roared in humiliation and made a grab for Razi. Sidath quickly stepped in between them, pushing Razi away. “Get out, Razi!” he yelled.

  Razi tossed the mangled fish aside and ran off like the wind, his heart pounding, his whole body shaking with rage. He shoved past two men in the way. How dare he? How could Nalaka speak about Father like that?

  Razi thudded away down the beach, thrashing angrily through the wet sand and the waves. Without even knowing where he was going he found himself running towards his beach, towards Zheng’s hut. He left the fishermen far behind, hurtling past the reef, past the boat and into the trees, bursting into the hut where Zheng was stirring.

  “I’ll do it!” he yelled.

  Zheng stared at him in confusion. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at Razi.

  “I said I’ll do it!” Razi fell on to his knees. “I can take on the seas. I can sail you to the furthest corner you want. I know this sea like the back of my hand, and I can take you where you need to go. And we will bring back the dagger and I will be the son my father would want me to be!”

  Zheng sat up cross-legged. “You mean it?”

  “Yes I do.” Razi swallowed. “I think it’s time.”

  “It’s going to be dangerous,” said Zheng. “Won’t lie about that.”

  “I know!” Razi laughed. “And I’m not afraid.”

  He felt reckless. Alive. Ready to take on the world.

  Zheng leaped up and embraced him. “Then let’s do it!”

  Footst
eps sounded outside and Shifa came into view. She was carrying something as she hurried towards them, her hair whipping around her face.

  “Razi, you idiot!” she said as she came in. “I heard about everything.”

  “What have you done?” asked Zheng, staring at Razi.

  “I slapped a man at the market with a fish.”

  “You slapped someone with a fish?” Zheng howled. “Nice.”

  Shifa glared at him as she dumped the things in her arms on the ground, then handed a parcel to him. “Here, some food for you. As for you, Razi, can we speak outside again?”

  Reluctantly, Razi left the hut.

  “Razi.” Shifa faced him looking serious. “You must go and apologise to Nalaka.”

  “Me?” Razi was staggered. “Why me? He was the one who said all that stuff.”

  “I miss Father too, Razi.” Shifa’s eyes were moist. “I wish it had never happened. I wish we still had him. But you can’t go around slapping people for staying in his spot. Nalaka’s right. There is no spot. It’s a beach.”

  Razi sighed and turned away from his sister. How could he explain it to her? That it was more than just a spot. It was a reminder that he couldn’t step up. He couldn’t be the son that his father would have been proud of. He had given up, and now the livelihood that they had built up was gone too.

  “He could have been more understanding,” said Shifa gently. “But he didn’t do anything wrong. You did.”

  His heart fell a bit. Slapping another fisherman wasn’t something his father would have felt proud of either. “All right, I’ll apologise.”

  “Good,” said Shifa. “Come on, let’s go back in.”

  Inside, Zheng was finishing up his meal. Empty mangosteen shells lay on the floor beside him, which he was collecting into the banana leaves. He looked up apprehensively at Razi. “You’re still all right to come with me, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “What’s this?” said Shifa.

  “I’m taking Zheng on the boat to find the treasure.”

  “Oh no, Razi! This is because of Nalaka, isn’t it?”