It took a week for them to reach the salt water of the ocean. They followed the craggy shore until they came to a narrow peninsula that stretched out towards the western ocean, set aflame by the setting crimson sun.
Chocan guided the canoe into a protected cove, where they unloaded the craft, then pulled it safely away from the water's edge. The nearby clearing would be their temporary home.
“This is where I met my first Beothuck many years ago,” he explained as he led the hike up the rocky face of the cliff to a ledge that looked majestically over the seemingly unending expanse of ocean. He pointed just south of where the sun had set only moments before.
“There. That is Mi'kmaq territory.”
Kiera squinted at the hazy line, where the crimson sky met the sea.
“I don't see anything but water. Are you sure?” asked Kiera.
Chocan smiled. “You doubt me? Only on a perfect day can a smudge of land been seen on the horizon. But trust me, it is there.”
“What do we do now?” asked Kiera.
“We wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Wait for the wind to be just right. With the help of your leather cloud, it should be a two-day journey. This is a dangerous time of year to attempt the crossing. Fierce windstorms can strike with little warning. We must be careful in determining which night will be best for the attempt.”
“Night?” questioned Kiera. “Would it not be easier paddling in the day?”
He shook his head. “At night, the wind calms, and the waves will not be as threatening. It will be safer travelling then.”
“So we might be here for a while.”
Chocan nodded. “We will have to be patient but ready to go at a moment's notice.”
Kiera reached forward and playfully smudged the ochre on Chocan's cheek. “So do your people stain themselves as well?”
Chocan smiled. “It has been so long that I had nearly forgotten. No, they do not. We'll have to scrub ourselves clean before we leave.”
Kiera laughed. “We better set up camp. I'll go and get our blankets.”
Kiera disappeared down the path that led back to the clearing. Chocan turned as well, but hesitated. His eyes were drawn back to the western twilight. After all of their adventures in the past year, was he now pushing their luck with this final journey? Did he dare take Kiera out into the middle of the ocean on a voyage that had not been attempted in more than a generation?
He took a deep breath. Then a voice echoed in his mind…Important decisions should be made with your heart and your mind. He said a prayer, reached into his soul, and listened. The reply came as a whisper in the wind. His worries and fears gently evaporated. Smiling, he turned and started down the path after Kiera.
It was five days before the weather chose to cooperate with the travellers. From the north came a gentle but chilly breeze. The pounding waves that had been crashing against the mighty cliffs calmed to a gentle rumble. The adventurers were ready. With the canoe packed, they pushed off with the morning breeze and paddled westward. The craft bobbed on the open ocean as Kiera lifted the sail into position. The deep keel of the canoe kept the tiny ocean craft on course as she manned the sails and Chocan worked his paddle in a rudder-like fashion.
As midnight approached, the wind that had been so helpful completely dissipated, and they had to resort to using their paddles in order to continue their westward journey. A sea of twinkling stars filled the ebony sky above their heads. Chocan guided the craft towards a star in the west. As it was about to disappear, he chose the next star above it as their guiding light.
“With the ocean this calm,” commented Chocan, “we should be able to make Tuywegannmikuk by daybreak.”
“Where?” asked Kiera, muffling a yawn with the back of her hand.
“It's a small island between our two lands. It will give us shelter in case the weather changes.”
“I can't believe that there's no wind tonight. I don't think I've ever seen the ocean this calm before.”
“Nor I,” agreed Chocan, concern in his voice.
“Are you worried about something?” asked Kiera.
“Yes. Look ahead.”
Kiera strained her eyes to see what was bothering Chocan, but all she could see was inky darkness.
“I don't see anything.”
“Exactly. Where are the stars?”
She looked again, and a chill ran down her spine. Along the horizon, the stars had disappeared, replaced by a band of forbidding black.
“What is it?”
Chocan paused. “Fog.”
A light mist began to tickle Kiera's face as they continued to plow westward with renewed enthusiasm. Within minutes, however, the fog had erased almost the entire sky. They both stopped paddling.
“I've lost the star,” said Chocan, concern in his voice. “Without it, we might end up paddling our canoe in circles.”
Kiera's mind swirled, trying to think of a solution to their dilemma. An idea pulled her eyes upwards.
“It's all right,” said Kiera, calmly. “We can still use the stars.”
“How?” asked Chocan. “We have no idea which way is west.”
“My Viking masters made up stories to go along with each pattern, or constellation, of stars,” she explained. “And these patterns are fixed in the sky, always in the same orientation, moving east to west. I recognize that group up there,” she said, pointing up and to the right, “the one that looks like a big plow; it is always north. So if we keep it to our right, then we will still be heading west.”
“Good,” said Chocan, looking at the constellation to which she was pointing. “Just one thing, Kiera. What's a plow?”
Kiera giggled. “It's a thing that's dragged behind a horse for planting…Wait, you don't know what a horse is, either. You know what? Why don't we switch places and you let me steer. After a year of watching you crash us into rocks and shoals, I think I can now handle the stern seat.”
“The stern is yours,” offered Chocan, laughing.
After a moment of shuffling around the stored baggage, they set off again, heading into the cool mist. They paddled until the sky began to brighten with the anticipated sunrise. The fog, however, thickened above them until even the stars above had disappeared.
They stopped once again.
“Now what? The stars are completely gone. And I don't think the fog is going to let us see the sunrise either.”
Chocan held up his hand.
“Do you hear it?” he whispered.
Kiera paused. “What?”
“Listen.”
Beyond the lapping of the waves against the hull was what sounded like the deep snores of a huge animal. The rumbling disappeared, only to occur once more. It continued in a slow, rhythmic pattern. Chocan smiled. “The island.”
Using the sound of the breakers to guide them, the paddlers pushed forward, stopping every so often to discuss the direction of the sound. In a surprisingly short amount of time, the distant roar developed into a colossal boom. The waves started to increase in size.
“I think we're close,” said Chocan.
Suddenly, a towering rocky cliff materialized out of the grey gloom directly in front of them. A wave grabbed the canoe and launched it towards the jagged teeth of the thundering rock face.
“I think we're too close!” shouted Kiera.
In panic, Kiera and Chocan paddled ferociously backwards against the foaming breakers. Sea water crashed over the stern, soaking not only their backs but all of their belongings as well. They were wet and shivering by the time they eased their way back into the rolling waves of the open ocean. Keeping a safe distance from the ominous shore, Chocan steered them around to the opposite end of the island, where the sheer cliffs gave way to a small, protective harbour.
Thankfully, they pulled the canoe out of the ocean and onto a pebbled beach. Unloading their belongings, the two retreated away from the shore and built a simple shelter under the protection of a small cave with
in the foot of a towering slab of rock. Chocan and Kiera crawled underneath their damp blankets and fell sound asleep.
It was afternoon before they awoke to the cries of seagulls and the light of the afternoon sun. Kiera rubbed her sore shoulders.
“My shoulders are as tight as knots,” commented Kiera. “How are yours?”
Chocan rubbed his middle. “I don't think there is an ache in my body that compares to the rumbling in my stomach.”
Kiera laughed. “I can take a hint. You get the fire going, and I'll prepare dinner.”
Night was already falling by the time they sat on their driftwood benches and sipped on a delicious seafood soup, followed by dried berries. Chocan looked out at the sky beyond the breakers on the beach.
“The wind is still calm. We may be able to continue the journey to my home tonight.”
Kiera could see the excitement in his eyes. “That's fantastic news. From what I saw this morning, I think the less time we spend on this desolate island, the better. How can I help?”
Chocan picked up a dry piece of driftwood.
“We need to gather as much wood as possible.”
“But we already have enough for cooking our dinner,” she pointed out.
“Not for cooking, for a signal,” he explained. “We will start a bonfire here on the beach. If all goes well, we will see a response from my nation tonight.”
After an hour of gathering and piling, several burning sticks from the cooking fire were brought to a towering pile of driftwood near the water's edge. It didn't take long for the ocean breeze to whip the wood into a raging bonfire. Sparks danced high into the darkening sky. They sat on a large piece of west-facing driftwood and told stories of the sea until the full moon rose high into the night sky.
“There!” she yelled, pointing into the darkness.
Where the land had melted into the inky black of night, a tiny spot of orange could be seen, flickering like the tiniest of fireflies.
Chocan rose and stepped towards the already packed canoe. “Let's go.”
Using the sail and favourable winds, the coast of the distant land slowly approached, until the sound of booming breakers welcomed the travellers to their final destination. Chocan guided them along the coast towards the light of the fire. In the morning twilight, he spied a small beach. He turned the canoe towards the shore and expertly rode a breaker up onto the sandy landing. They dragged the canoe to the edge of a pine forest, scraped together a rough mattress of needles, and threw their blankets on top of the pile. It was midday before Kiera managed to rouse herself for breakfast.
Chocan had a meal of cooked fish already prepared. Although their bodies were sore from two days of paddling, they agreed to continue the voyage. They sailed southwest, along the base of breathtaking rocky cliffs that were capped with vast expanses of green forests. Chocan explained that the fire had been on the top of one of the cliffs. Kiera, however, could not find any sign of human activity. Eventually, the cliffs gave way to magnificent forests that stretched right down to the ocean's rocky shore. It was early evening when they rounded a point that opened up into a deep bay. Kiera pointed to the first sign of human life in this new land. A thin column of black smoke rose up from behind the wind-swept cedars at the far end of the bay.
There they found a dozen empty canoes lining the muddy shore of a river. They were different from the Beothuck design, with flatter bottoms and no rise midway along their sides. Chocan ran their canoe up next to the others. Kiera jumped over the side and dragged the bow up onto the mud.
A twig snapped behind her. Surprised, she spun and looked into the handsome face of a tall man with a long, hawkish nose. His hair was long, braided and light brown. He wore an open vest and a pair of dyed leather pants. His almond-coloured eyes seemed transfixed by her friendly green-eyed stare. Kiera stepped forward, her hand extended.
“Good evening,” she said in Celtic. “My name is Kiera.”
The man's mouth gaped open in surprise. He tried to respond, but the words were caught in his throat. He wheeled around and ran into the woods, yelling at the top of his lungs in a language that Kiera didn't understand. Chocan, now at her side, laughed.
Kiera shook her head. “I don't know why I have that effect on people when I first meet them.”
“Come on. Let me show you my village.”
Together, they followed a short path through the woods that ended at a large clearing. Kiera stopped in her tracks and gasped. Memories and images from her childhood flooded back into her mind. There, in full glory, was an almost exact replica of her Irish village, complete with a protective, picketed fence. In the centre of the village stood a magnificent stone church, complete with a huge wooden cross and sod roof. An Irish stone building! Just the sight of it alone brought tears to her eyes. Kiera surveyed the rest of the village in disbelief. A central wooden tower, similar to the ones she had seen in Ireland, rose up from behind the church, giving scouts a view of both the forest and bay. Tiny sod huts were clustered together to the west side of the village like a group of oversized anthills.
On the east side of the village stood a more typical native settlement. Wigwams lined the inside of the protective fence. There was also a large outdoor meeting area, a cooking shelter and racks for the diying of skins. Word of the newly-arrived strangers spread like wildfire throughout the community . People poured out of the wigwams and woods, gathering at the village entrance in a silent mass. As they approached the gate, Kiera studied the sea of curious faces. Their open eyes and slightly wider cheekbones quietly echoed their common ancestry.
The crowd parted, allowing them passage through the gate and into the village. An older man materialized from the crowd and stood before them. Kiera and Chocan came to a halt while he examined them thoroughly. Chocan stepped forward, lowered himself onto one knee and kissed the leader's right hand. The older man put his weathered hands on either side of Chocan's face and gently brought him back up onto his feet. Kiera could sense something more than just recognition as they stared at each other in silence. Finally, Chocan leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the fragile shoulders of the older man.
“Father!”
The elder embraced his son. “How are you, Chocan?”
“Very well, father.”
They pulled away from each other. Chocan's father turned to face Kiera.
“And who have we here?”
“Father,” Chocan said, proudly, “I would like to introduce you to my friend, Kiera. Kiera, this is Niskamij, my father.”
Kiera looked down humbly, knelt and greeted Chocan's father in the same fashion.
“Thank you for allowing me to visit your wonderful home,” she said in Celtic.
“Ah, the tongue of the Teachers,” Niskamij said, his brow wrinkling in recognition. “You have indeed travelled a long way. This is certainly a cause for celebration. Welcome to our village, Kiera. There is so much for us to talk about.”
Chocan placed a gentle hand on Kiera's back. She looked up into his eyes. There was more than excitement in his gaze. His hand slid down to her arm and gently took her hand in his. Kiera returned the smile in a way that Chocan had only dreamed he would some day see. At that very moment, their spirits entwined and became one. She squeezed his hand. Her voice could simply not find the words.
He tilted his head toward the village.
“Let me show you around.”
Chocan led her forward. Close behind followed the dozens of villagers, chattering among themselves about what all of this could possibly mean. Niskamij guided them towards the cooking area. The aroma of a dinnertime meal tickled the senses of the hungry travellers. But as they passed through the centre of the settlement, Kiera came to a stop.
The huge cross that she had seen from a distance was beautifully carved with traditional geometric Celtic patterns. Kiera took the cross that hung around her neck and gently rubbed it between her finger and thumb. She allowed the image of the cross that dominated her vision to sear itse
lf into her memory. Savouring the moment, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and smiled. Her soul, for the first time since she was a little girl, was at peace. She was home.
EPILOGUE
July 12th, 1604
Southeast shore of Cape Breton Island
“Over there?”
Stunned, Samuel de Champlain pointed to the far shore of the bay.
The old chief nodded.
Samuel could not take his eyes off the stone that hung around the chiefs neck. It was an intricately carved Celtic cross. It was impossible that the Irish had recently arrived here in these lands. Ireland was the poorest, most backwardsthinking country in all of Europe. They didn't have one vessel capable of making this journey across the Atlantic. Yet, here was this native chief with a piece of classic Celtic adornment.
Although Samuel had been hired by Commander De Chaste to map the recently claimed French coastline, Samuel himself could not resist a good mystery. Ever since he was a child, he had dreamed of one day making a discovery that would make him famous. He had already travelled with his father to the fabled city of the Aztecs called Mexico in the far south of this New World. He was stunned by the wealth and riches that had been acquired by the Spanish through the pillaging of both the Aztec and Inca lands. He wondered whether this northern wilderness might hold a similar find of history-changing proportions. A Celtic cross on the wrong side of an ocean was certainly an intriguing clue to a mystery.
After several more hand gestures and a bag of glass beads, Samuel convinced the chief to loan him two of his Mi'kmaq warriors and a canoe so that he might investigate the area to which the chief had pointed. He turned to a young French officer, who was overseeing the loading of wooden casks filled with fresh drinking water. One skiff was already rowing its way back to the majestic three-masted ship that lay anchored further out in the deeper water of the bay.
“Oh, come on, Henri,” Samuel teased, shoving his friend. “I know you have an ounce of adventure somewhere in that officer's uniform. Let's go find out what these natives are hiding on the other side of the bay.”
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