15
Who Dares?
Mama D’Leau watched the gifts she had been sent slip off the banana leaves and sink. Fishing spears lanced the water between them, seeking a target: her. Jumbie or not, these clumsy attacks could injure her.
Mama D’Leau turned her rage on the surface of the water. Waves cut into anything or anyone who had dared to come upon it. Roaring and spraying, they sent jets strong enough to capsize boats and dump their passengers into the moonlit sea.
You dare? You dare? Mama D’Leau screamed, and the water crashed again and again into the fishing boats, pushing through cracks, splitting them wider until the boats broke apart and there were more people in the water than vessels. The sounds of screaming and pleading and gulping for air combined with the snap of the breaking boards. Mama D’Leau laughed and the water rocked. More boats smashed and more people tumbled in the tide.
Those dumped in the water swam for shore, beating a froth, but Mama D’Leau pulled the tide to her bosom and made sure they got no closer to land, until they gave up exhausted and sank like the offerings that had slipped off the banana leaves.
Only when they had little air left did Mama D’Leau let the water spit them out on the sand, where they crawled, sputtering, feeling lucky—grateful even—to touch the gravelly earth beneath their fingers, until Mama D’Leau sent another wave to scoop them back into the water, where they struggled again.
Eventually, weary of the game, she let them scramble to higher ground, looking back at the waves with fear, the way they should have all along. She retreated to her circle of stony victims anchored to the bottom of the sea. This was how she liked people. Quiet and still. And it was why she liked living under the waves, where layers of water muffled the sounds on land, and where she could feel something sneaking up on her by the ripples against her skin.
As Mama D’Leau’s laughter ebbed, the memory of the task at hand rose to the top of her mind. She reached again for the current that bridged the ocean. She twisted and turned it. Things were going well until she tasted smoke in the water.
16
Before It’s Too Late
From the top of the hill, the witch watched the sea toss boats and people, then slowly settle back to its usual rhythm. It was like a great creature breathing in and out. Those on shore had long scrambled away, looking for another means to reach the jumbies that threatened their children. Those in the few boats that survived rowed slowly back to land, picking up swimmers as they came. It seemed that everyone made it, but the witch did not know for sure. She waited for Pierre, Hugo, and Mrs. Rootsingh to climb the hill. The moonlight was behind them, so she could not see their faces, but she could read the exhaustion in the bend of their backs and the hesitating steps of their feet.
“Pierre,” the witch said when they reached the top of the hill. “Mama D’Leau will return them safely.” She waited as Pierre’s muscles began to uncoil and his fists unclenched. “But you will need to come quick.”
Behind her, angry voices rose in the night air. The yellow flicker of lamplight coming through the trees danced across the faces of Mrs. Rootsingh, Hugo, and Pierre. Then came the smell of kerosene. The witch saw Pierre’s nose twitch and his brow furrow.
“They are in the mahogany forest, Pierre,” the witch said. “Hurry.”
17
The Fire
The white witch let the parents race toward the fire. Her days of moving quickly were done. Instead of following, she leaned on her stick and hobbled down to the sea. The moon was full and bright and had pulled the tide up like someone drawing blankets close against a chill. She took off her sandals and waded into the cool waves, letting them kiss the wrinkled skin of her ankles, her shins, her knees.
“Far enough.” The voice rolled toward her with the waves.
“Oh?”
“I know what you want,” the water said.
“But I didn’t ask a thing,” the white witch replied.
“You want me to stop them. But I ent helping. Burn down the whole island. See if I care.”
The witch looked back at the glow of orange coming from the top of the hill, and the sharp, acrid scent of burning orange trees made her nostrils flare. Beads of perspiration appeared on her top lip, between the white bristles of her mustache. “They will burn it all,” the witch agreed. “That is nothing to us. You live in the water and I am too old. It’s time for me to go anyhow.”
“You have a lil’ time left, old woman,” the water said.
“More than some.” She looked back at the fire again, then kicked up some water with her feet. “Pity, eh? The water so close. All the plants and animals will be gone. I suppose somebody will mourn them.”
The water sighed.
The witch waded back to shore and took her sandals in her good hand, knocking the soles against her walking stick to get the sand out. By the time she reached the top of the hill again, she could hear the tide being sucked into a spout that shot up into the silvery sky. Her shoulders jerked with satisfaction. The water rained down on the island in a fine mist that sizzled against the charred bits of land the fire had already touched. The witch walked through the salty droplets to the line of people battling the fire. Mama D’Leau’s rain was helping, but it was not enough. The fire was a creature with a thousand orange tongues roving over the forest, consuming everything.
The witch felt defeat in her bones.
18
Diving into the Wreck
Corinne knew that Sisi was nervous. Sisi’s jaw was tight, and she looked straight ahead as she swam. The other mermaids followed quietly behind. Whenever they whispered to each other, Sisi picked up speed, and they had to struggle to catch up.
All at once, Sisi slowed, and Noyi came up alongside them with Bouki. Where did it go? Noyi asked.
Where did what go? Corinne asked.
We’ve lost the current, Noyi said.
The thin trail of blue that Corinne had seen at the start of their journey seemed to have petered out somewhere behind them. What do we do now? she asked.
Sisi swam ahead slowly, moving slightly left and right, as if she was searching for a path.
Mama has never led us the wrong way, Noyi said. The current must be here somewhere.
You don’t have to always follow her, do you? Bouki asked.
Who follows her? She is everywhere, Sisi said. As far as the water reaches, there she is. You can’t follow something that is everywhere at once. Sisi slowed down.
Did you find it? Dru asked.
Sisi shook her head. No, but I’ve been here before.
Of course you have, Bouki grumbled. She said you were going home, remember? Maybe you’re home already. That’s why the current is gone.
When were we here? Ellie asked.
If you don’t know, I certainly don’t, Noyi said.
What if you’re wrong? Dru asked. We could get lost.
Addie shook her head. Mama wouldn’t send us unless she knew we could do it. It’s important to her. There must be a way.
Why is it important? Bouki asked.
Why would she make us drag a bunch of loud little fish across the ocean if it wasn’t? Noyi asked. She gave Bouki a little slap with her tail that sent him spinning away from her for a few seconds before she scooped him back up.
I want to switch! Bouki complained.
Quit whining, Noyi said. I wasn’t going to hurt you.
You knew my grand-père, Corinne said, trying to break up the argument.
Sisi nodded. He told me to watch out for your father, and then you came along, so I watched out for you, too. Though your father was always easier. He doesn’t put himself in danger.
What do you mean?
Rowing a boat out to a rocky cliff in the middle of the night isn’t the smartest plan, Sisi said. She sped up a little and stopped again at a dip in the sa
nd. She picked up a few rocks and bit her lip.
Corinne thought about the night she had taken her papa’s yellow boat to rescue her mama’s necklace from Severine. The rocks were huge and sharp and the current was strong. She had been sure she would crash. But then something had pushed her boat out of danger. It was you who helped me that night?
Sisi nodded. I should not have. We are not supposed to interfere. But I promised your grand-père, and I keep my promises.
How did he save you?
Sisi darted ahead again. I was caught in his nets. He could have kept me, but he cut me out. He didn’t even ask for a favor. Not then, anyway. Years later his boat overturned in a storm and broke apart far from land. He tried to swim against the wind and waves but they were too strong. When he went down, I swam to him and touched his hand. He asked me to protect his family always, but he said to let him go. He said it was his time. I didn’t know what that meant until after I did what he asked.
My papa always said that I would be safe on the water, that Grand-père was—
King of the fish-folk? Sisi laughed bubbles. He isn’t, you know. There is no such thing. Mama D’Leau rules the water. You land fish have such silly ideas.
Corinne looked at her friends, surrounded by water, able to breathe, to talk, and being ferried by a bunch of mermaids across the entire ocean. She laughed too. No such thing.
As she said it, the water warmed, and Sisi’s mood brightened. She and the other mermaids darted around quietly. A soft morning light broke through the water and filtered down to them. The rays reflected off specks of sand and debris that floated in the water around them.
I remember a ship, Sisi said.
Ellie moved closer, leaving scales in her wake. Yes, she said. We were all on it.
How? Bouki asked. Don’t you mean swimming around it? The mermaids didn’t respond.
Here, Addie said, pulling Malik down with her. She used her tail to dust off rows of wood covered in sand.
Sisi let go of Corinne’s and Dru’s hands and swam off. The girls tried to follow her, but Sisi was too fast and Corinne felt her lungs begin to burn. She pushed through the water after the mermaid as darkness began to close in around the edges of her vision until she could barely see. But Sisi stopped suddenly, and Corinne and Dru grabbed her tail. Corinne dug her fingers into the mermaid as Dru wrapped her arms around Sisi’s waist. A rush of air filled Corinne’s lungs and her vision cleared.
The mermaid dipped down to the sand, stirring it up with her tail. The pressure of so much water pushing down on Corinne made her ears hurt.
It was darker down here, but Corinne still saw in bold color. The mermaids swam slowly toward a large, broken ship partially buried under the sand. It was studded with barnacles, and waving seaweed grew between the boards. They swam over the ship and through the open hull as frightened fish spilled out. There were ancient crates and casks, some open and some sealed shut. Bottles filled with dark liquid were strewn on the seafloor, and broken ones jutted out of the sand. Sisi stopped to touch a few of them. The mermaids continued to dive through the wreck, exploring. Bouki showed a slip of paper to Noyi, who squinted at it. Malik tugged Addie toward a rotting trunk with a lid they could pry open. Ellie moved more slowly. A trail of her scales followed her looping arcs as she found a small silver box and what looked like a gold button and tried to rub them clean with her fingers.
Sisi, Corinne, and Dru found lanterns, plates, spoons and forks, and barrels for food that had long since rotted or been carried away by the waves or grateful fish. In one small cabin, there was a table and books filled with words none of them understood. Most of the books’ pages had fused together, but one volume had opened to a page of long lists containing words and numbers, though the ink was faded and blurred. Inside the table’s drawer was a black pouch that Corinne dropped into Sisi’s outstretched palm.
Inside were coins blackened with age. They were mostly lopsided, as if someone had hammered each one out by hand, trying to make them as round as they could but never quite getting it right. On two of the coins a pair of doves faced each other with wavy lines between them. The other side was a hammered, uneven finish. Corinne and Dru each put one in their pockets.
The mermaids began to laugh and chatter as they pulled Corinne and her friends through the broken ship, discovering more of the buried treasure. They found delicate cups that they tossed at each other and plates to fling back. Malik and Addie took a couple of the utensils and beat a hasty rhythm on the hull. The muted thunk of the spoons changed to a light clang as they moved to another part of the ship. Sisi and the girls swam toward the sound.
A square opening led even deeper into the ship, below the surface of the sand. Sisi clasped the sides of the small portal as if she needed a moment to think. Addie bumped into her and landed on a piece of rusted chain. It must have been what she and Malik had hit a moment before.
It’s heavy, Malik said, trying to pull the chain up.
Addie hit it again with her spoon, but when the sound rang out, the spoon broke apart in her hand and her smile disappeared. Sisi dove into the dark belly of the ship. There, crushed boards pushed up at odd angles through the soft ocean floor, but the sides remained nearly intact. Beams curved over their heads like the arches of a church. Evenly spaced along the beams were large, round circles of iron from which more chains hung. They were so heavy and stiff with rust, they didn’t move when Corinne touched them. Sisi pulled one of the chains. It was huge in her hands, and it groaned and screeched as the rough, rusted links rubbed against each other. Sisi kept pulling until the links stuck on something beneath the sand.
By then the other mermaids had joined them, and they huddled in a circle, waiting to see what would come up. Corinne unclasped one of her hands and helped Sisi pull, but the chain wouldn’t budge. All of them lined up and pulled until the chain snapped, sending up a cloud of sand and red flecks of rust. When the sand settled, they saw the end of the chain: a round iron clasp with a hinge. The clasp was large enough to close around a wrist.
Below it, a white rock protruded from the sand. Corinne reached for it, fitting her finger into a groove at the top that reminded her of the curve in her mother’s stone. Only it wasn’t as hard, and something about it sent a chill through her body. She dug around and uncovered more of the rock. It was long and white and still entangled in another part of the chain. When she pulled, it came free. Startled, Corinne let go, and it hovered in the water in front of them before slowly settling back to the sand.
Not a rock. A bone.
Corinne lurched back and away from the bone, landing against Sisi, who gripped her arm.
They took us, Sisi said. She squinted as if she was trying to squeeze the memory out.
They captured us from our homes, said Noyi. They chained us. She dropped the chain in her hand, recoiling as if it had stung her. I was called Ozigbodi, she said. That was my name then.
Addie ran her hand along one of the curved arches of the ship. Malik scrambled after her and got ahold of her fin. I touched here, and someone called out Gzifa! That was me. I turned around and saw them crumple on land, watching me be taken away.
How could you walk? Bouki asked, holding on to Noyi’s shoulders as she moved slowly through the cavernous hold.
Sisi took Ellie’s hand in her own and looked at the markings on their wrists, which Corinne had not noticed before. Sisi traced the lines gently, then touched the shackles on the iron chains—just the right thickness and curve to have made the scar. My name was Boahinmaa, Sisi said to Corinne. A little smile played at the edges of her lips, but it did not reach her eyes. They took us away.
But we are back now, Noyi said.
The mermaids made a circle around the silent bone, their eyes closed, holding hands with each other and each of the children. Sisi’s nails dug into Corinne’s flesh.
Corinne heard the roar of wind. She looked ar
ound to see if anyone else had heard it too, but the other mermaids were still. Her friends looked worried.
What’s happening? Dru asked.
I think they are remembering something, Corinne said. And I think I can see it. Can you?
Corinne closed her eyes.
A steel-gray sky loomed above her from a small square opening and rain whipped her face. The growl of wind grew louder, and then came the rumble of thunder. There was a crack of timber as the ship began to break apart. People were all around her, lying like she was, packed close, skin to skin. Water came through the opening and sloshed over her. It covered her face and made it almost impossible to breathe, but she could not get up. Her hands and feet were bound in iron. The water rolled away and the sounds of screaming voices and screeching chains filled her ears. The ship cracked and ripped at the joints, then sank. Water closed over them. It sealed them in like an iron box. There was a low moan and a loud pop and the beam she was attached to broke away and pitched in the current. Corinne could see the wide, frightened eyes of others below her who were still chained to the ship. Their mouths opened, sucking for air that would never come.
Corinne opened her eyes. Her friends and the mermaids surrounded her. Their faces were soft and peaceful. It took a few moments for her heartbeat to slow and for her muscles to relax. What she had seen had not happened to her. But it had happened to someone. The mermaids had shown her the last moments of this ship.
Corinne tried to shake the images she’d just seen out of her mind: the cracking boards, the chains, and most of all, the people who had drowned in the wreck. She felt a hand squeezing her own: Malik. Even before he asked, What did you see? she knew his question. She had grown accustomed to reading his expressions.
They drowned, she said. Right here in this ship.
Then how did they get like this? Bouki asked.
Maybe Mama D’Leau saved them, said Corinne.
That doesn’t sound like Mama D’Leau, Bouki said. She’s not the saving kind.
Rise of the Jumbies Page 6
