‘Oh,’ Waterlily says flatly.
‘Come on,’ Eagle Eye calls. ‘Give it a chance. There are too many people on it.’
Brown Moss shoos off some of the children from the raft, and pushes The Wind off with a light smile. Suddenly, Moonlight stumbles off from one of the corners, and then the raft rises from the shallows, bucks and throws two of the women into the water. The others stay on the raft, wildly dancing around and flapping their arms. The hunters on the river bank and the edge of the jungle laugh.
Eagle Eye frowns at the hunters and he starts to go towards them when there is a sudden shriek from the distance.
Everyone turns to the bend of the river. Waterlily’s eyes widen.
‘It sounded like a man . . .’ Burnt Earth says slowly, glancing at Moonlight before looking away.
Moonlight says numbly, ‘It’s Fast Fish.’
There is a ripple of low shouting drifting from the river bend.
‘Maybe,’ Eagle Eye says. ‘We don’t know, but now we know where the Crocodiles are.’
I feel my back shiver and I hear a groan. I thought it was me but it echoed around the Yam tribe.
‘All right.’ He waves his hand. ‘We can’t think about Fast Fish or Old Tortoise. There is no time.’ He nods at me. ‘You, Bent Beak, go to that bend, watch for the Crocodiles and wave to tell us. Go. The rest of you, get the rafts ready. Quickly.’
I grab my spear and hurry. When I move towards the bend, I look back and see that Eagle Eye is beckoning the hunters out of the jungle. He takes the branches from them, throws some back and keeps others for paddles. Then he sends two of them back into the jungle, waving one of the branches. I guess that’s the one they need to get more of.
I stop at an outcrop where I can see up the river but can still see back to the Yam working on the rafts. I can’t see any sign of Fast Fish or Old Tortoise in the river, and I haven’t heard anything else like that scream. And, I can’t see any Crocodiles – that is good news.
I look back again to the Yam. Eagle Eye’s builders have started on the next raft, and the other hunters are working on the bamboos, either on the fires or using their axes. All that, I can understand, but I can’t work out what Brown Moss’s gatherers are doing.
They should be getting some of the food onto the finished rafts, but instead they are taking hand-palm strands and short bamboos from the hunters – and I can hear them shouting. Brown Moss sends some of them into the jungle.
Two gatherers are standing in the river, holding the raft still, and others are standing on the raft. They take the short bamboos, and The Wind dives from the raft and swims under it. The women on the raft jam the short bamboos through the long bamboos, and into the water, as if they are trying to spear The Wind on the bottom of the river. Brown Moss and Moonlight then hold the short bamboos until The Wind pops up from the water.
Then I figure it out. The Wind is doing what I had done, when I was under the raft with the strands. But it was very easy for me – I was working with the vines with my head above water. The Wind has to take a long breath, swim under the raft and work with strands in muddy water to tie the short bamboo. But why?
My job is watching the river, so I turn and look back up it. There is nothing to see but some tree litter drifting around the distant bend, so I turn back to the camp.
On the first raft there are now four short bamboos close to each other, and Brown Moss and Moonlight are tying short branches between them. I guess that the short ones will keep the raft strong. But what does that matter?
Fast Fish always says the women are always trying to make something better than us.
Just as the hunters finish the second raft, several gatherers come out from the jungle with vines, dry palm hands, branches and grasses. Two old women plant themselves on the sand with the grasses and start to twine them.
I keep thinking about Fast Fish and Old Tortoise and that yell, and I turn back to the long stretch of the river. The floating tree litter is now closer, but that is all. There is nothing to see on the river except for that, nothing at all, apart from the way it sticks together in the river, and the way it wanders around.
And maybe, maybe, that might be a coconut in it . . .
I try to concentrate my eyes on the debris, but can’t work out what I am seeing. I swing away and stare at the Yam again. I see gatherers bringing the first raft to the muddy bank and putting vines around the four short bamboos. The old women pass the tangled grass to The Wind on the raft, and she uses them to tighten the leaves and twigs on the paddles. Two more gatherers wobble out of the jungle with a great number of big palm leaves.
Now? I wonder, and turn back to the river.
The debris in the river is becoming a little clearer. Now I can see something in the debris – two things – two coconuts? And then I see a ripple after the two coconuts. It is as though several river grunters are about to nibble at the coconuts. And then my eyes somehow click. Suddenly, the debris is not debris. It is several bamboos floating down the river. And they are being controlled by those two coconuts – two heads. Fast Fish and Old Tortoise are bringing the bamboos back . . .
I turn to the Yam and start to move my arms, but I stop. If I wave at the camp, they will think that Crocodiles are coming. If I run to them to tell them that Fast Fish and Old Tortoise are coming and are safe, the Yam tribe will see me coming back and it would be the same as waving – they will think that I have seen Crocodiles and panic. We should have worked out a signal, like the Horn.
So I grab my spear and run beside the river, away from the Yam, towards Fast Fish and Old Tortoise. When I am blocked from the Yam by a rock fall, I wave wildly at the bobbing men, but they don’t see me. I look at my spear, look at the river, shrug, and throw it into the river towards the camp. Maybe people will see the spear back in the camp – like I could grab the moon from the sky. I watch the bamboos drifting and then dive in.
When I surface, I hear Fast Fish shouting urgently. He is calling, ‘Can you see it?’ His head is swinging around. ‘Get your spear ready.’
Old Tortoise lifts his spear from the tied bamboos, but then he sees me splashing around and drops his spear back down. ‘It’s all right. It’s only Bent Beak.’
I swim to the bamboos a bit nervously.
‘Why are you here?’ Fast Fish spits the words out.
‘I thought you would like a hand . . .’ And then I see Fast Fish’s face. It is etched in pain.
‘I’m glad you’re here. Very glad,’ Old Tortoise says. He turns to Fast Fish. ‘You can stop pushing now.’
Fast Fish makes a strangled growl, but he nods.
‘We will get you onto the bamboos.’
‘What? No.’ He shakes his head.
Old Tortoise ignores him as Fast Fish moves closer and beckons to me.
‘I’m not going up there . . .’
‘Just think of yourself as a great Elder. And you can stop the bleeding.’
Fast Fish is shaking his head, but he nods once and starts to try to pull himself up onto the bamboos, but they move away from him and he slides down.
‘Bent Beak, hold onto the bamboo!’ Old Tortoise grabs Fast Fish’s legs and pushes him up.
Fast Fish kicks up both legs and heaves down with both arms on the bamboos. I feel the bamboos buckle in my arms, and Fast Fish seems like he is going to fall into the water again, but Old Tortoise pushes him back. Then I see many fingerlings swirling around me. They are nibbling at the blood in the water. My eyes follow the blood trail on the bamboos to Fast Fish’s thigh. There is a gaping slash, which he is clamping with both hands. It looks bad.
Old Tortoise pants, ‘All right now?’
Fast Fish nods, but his face is grey.
Old Tortoise squeezes his shoulder and then we move along the bamboos, to the ends, to control them through the river current.
‘We heard someone yell . . .’ I say.
Old Tortoise shakes his head. ‘It wasn’t Fast Fish – but he caused it.’
‘Yes. I think the Crocodile warriors were still frightened by the black bamboo stand, but they saw us working the black bamboo and they stopped being frightened. A lot of them came up when we were getting the bamboos into the river. They threw a lot of spears at us, but I ducked into the water, under the bamboos. We could hear the spears banging on the bamboos. But nothing got through.’
I look at him; he has a weak smile. ‘But . . .’
The smile disappears. ‘Fast Fish had to throw his spear. Maybe he could have got away, but he had to see whether his spear had hit someone. His spear had hit a Crocodile – maybe even killed him, but then a Crocodile’s spear hit him . . .’
‘Maybe Brown Moss can fix him.’ I feel that I have to say something.
‘Yes. Sometimes I think she can fix anything . . .’ He starts to say something else but he closes his mouth.
We don’t say anything then, but when we come around the rock outcrop and I can see Yam on the muddy banks, I yell. I wave when we get closer, but it is not needed. Burnt Earth and four hunters are already racing into the water.
Moonlight stands in the shallows with her hand on her belly and stares at the motionless Fast Fish on the bamboos. Brown Moss puts her hand on Moonlight’s arm and says something. Waterlily is staring at the distant river.
The hunters push the bamboos towards the bank, looking at Fast Fish. I feel the bamboos being pulled away and I let go. I am feeling very tired. I look around for my spear, but I don’t think I can swim to it now.
When the hunters feel the mud on their feet, they stop pushing and three of them carry the limp Fast Fish to Brown Moss. She points at a shadow for them to put him in on the dry sand, and she kneels at his side. The hunters won’t look at Moonlight, only at each other. Burnt Earth is slowly shaking his head, but then Eagle Eye thumps him.
Brown Moss notices the hunters standing around. ‘All right, I don’t need you now. Go back to making rafts.’ She waves them away and sends Moonlight into the jungle.
The hunters pull the new bamboos from the river and get them to the fires while Old Tortoise and I stagger out of the river and look around.
‘At least that is going well,’ says Old Tortoise. ‘Everybody’s working on the rafts.’
‘Even the little ones . . .’ I point at some of the children who are carrying coconuts and roots to the rafts.
Three rafts have been pulled up onto the mud. I see the finished first raft and I finally understand the four short bamboos – they make a small block in the centre of the raft, and the sticks and grass string form a rough net around the block, to keep things inside it. The gatherers put their dillybags on the short bamboos, dangling within the string net of the block, along with the food and palm leaves. The palm leaves go on the bottom of the block, and on top there are green coconuts, hairy coconuts, roots, mussels and green bananas, with more palm leaves on top.
Old Tortoise says, ‘What can I do?’
I turn and see Eagle Eye standing near him.
‘Take a break. You have done enough. What happened?’
‘Crocodiles found us.’
‘Where?’
‘We were – ’
Eagle Eye flicks his eyes to me. ‘You were supposed to keep watch!’
‘I – I will go back.’
Waterlily shouts, ‘Croc!’ And points.
Eagle Eye turns to the river. ‘Too late, they’re here.’
I swing round and see the moving shadows halfway between the rock outcrop and the camp. I swallow, try to say something, ‘Sorry –’ and then I stop. There is nothing that I can say.
Eagle Eye grabs his spear and calls softly. ‘We have Crocodiles. Don’t shout. Brown Moss, you get all of the food loaded and get the women and the children – and Fast Fish – onto the rafts.’ He points to Old Tortoise and a younger hunter. ‘You try to get the last new bamboo chopped and get them onto a raft. Get the other rafts into the deep water.’
‘But –’ Old Tortoise trails the word, then drops it.
‘The rest of the hunters . . .’ Eagle Eye waves his spear and points at the moving shadows. ‘We will stop them. A little bit.’
I fiddle with my hands.
Eagle Eye walks away but then looks back at me. ‘Yes?’
‘I haven’t got my spear.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ And he turns back.
But Old Tortoise pulls his spear from the new bamboos and throws it between my feet without saying a word. I grab his spear and follow the hunters.
We walk slowly on the dry mud for a while until Eagle Eye stops near a fallen tree. He gets us to drag it over the mud. The tree is not big – only level with my knees – but he has everyone stand on this side of it, the opposite side to the coming Crocodile warriors. Then, we wait.
The tree shadows creep along the ground as the sun sinks towards Sleeping Turtle Mountain. Finally, the Crocodile Elder moves from a bush. He looks at the tree and us for a long time.
‘I wish Fast Fish was here,’ Burnt Earth says.
Eagle Eye ignores him. ‘All right,’ he says softly. ‘Do not throw your spears yet.’ He touches my shoulder. ‘You keep watching the rafts. Tell me when all the rafts are out.’
The Crocodile Elder waves his spear, and the warriors move from the shadows. They push each other across the mud. They are more than us, and there are still more coming.
‘Oh, oh,’ I breathe.
But Eagle Eye puts his hand on my head and turns it to face the rafts.
I swallow and stare at the rafts, but I am listening for everything – I can hear the hunters’ spears thumping on the sand, the sucking of Eagle Eyes’ lips, Burnt Earth hissing, more Crocodile warriors crashing from the bushes. I know that the sun is slipping behind Sleeping Turtle Mountain because the river is quietening – it always seems to quieten to a soft murmur when the sun has gone.
I see that the first raft is in the water with two gatherers holding it. The other gatherers are running around the other four rafts while Old Tortoise and the young hunter are working with the last bamboo by the fires.
Brown Moss puts Waterlily on the first raft as Moonlight and The Wind float the fake fish – the big bags made of kelp seaweed and long sticks – in the water. They take the food out of the fake fish, and put the food in the box on the raft.
For a moment I had been feeling cocky, as I thought I had worked out what the fake fish was – a bag for carrying food. But then they had taken the food from it and put it into the food box. I watch as they sink the fake fish in the river, and then carefully pull it onto the raft and place it in the food box with the long sticks sticking out of the box. I have it – the fake fish is a water carrier!
I hear the Crocodile warriors start to shout and clash their spears, and I look back for an instant. There are a lot of them now. Burnt Earth shouts back then hesitates; he looks to Eagle Eye, but Eagle Eye nods and shouts too. Burnt Earth hoots and bangs his spear on the tree. The Yam hunters follow his lead and yell.
‘Good, good, show them that we are ready for them,’ Eagle Eye hisses.
I say, ‘There are two rafts in the river – no, three now.’
‘Good,’ Eagle Eye says and nods.
The Crocodile warriors yell at us and thump their spears on the ground. Suddenly, Eagle Eye pushes me sideways violently. I stagger and a single spear passes him.
‘Do not throw,’ Eagle Eye warns. ‘Now you have two spears, Bent Beak.’
I run for the spear, grab for it in the mud. I feel surprised at its weight as I get back to the Yam hunters. Crocodiles are forming a crescent on the mud. They want to charge and hurl their spears, but the Elder is holding them back.
I look at them. They are too many, too many.
‘How are the rafts doing?’ Eagle Eye says to me.
I turn back to the Yam. ‘Four rafts now,’ I say. ‘But the new bamboos are still in the fire.’
‘Too slow. We can’t wait. You, you, you . . .’ Eagle Eye
points his spear at six hunters, including Burnt Earth. ‘Get ready. You will go into the river and swim back to camp. Leave your spears.’
When the Crocodile Elder shouts, I glance back and see the warriors hurl their spears at the Yam hunters.
‘Down, down!’ Eagle Eye hisses.
I tumble under the fallen tree with everyone. I can hear the spears as they hit the wood and the sand, but no one seems to get hurt.
‘Now! Go!’ Eagle Eye waves away the selected men.
Burnt Earth jams his spear into my hand with a guilty look, and then he rushes into the river with the other hunters, splashing and scattering out.
The Elder’s spear wobbles in uncertainty. Some of the Crocodiles start to run towards the swimmers, and some of them throw their spears at them. The swimmers dive under the water.
‘Now throw!’ Eagle Eye shouts, and hurls his spear at the Crocodiles running towards us.
I hurl Old Turtle’s spear, and the rest of the Yam hunters aim, but I don’t know how it goes. I am trying to remain calm as these white horrors charge at me. But they hesitate as the spears come down on them. Some of the spears are knocked sideways, but a few find a target. Three Crocodiles yell and tumble.
‘All of them!’ roars Eagle Eye.
I throw Burnt Earth’s spear, and I am about to throw the Crocodile’s spear at them when I see they’ve dodged the spears, but they slow down.
‘Now, go, all of you!’ Eagle Eye points at the river.
The last Yam hunters charge into the water with me. I hit the water and I feel suddenly awake, but I start floundering for an instant. My legs are weak beneath me. I surge through the dark shallows, and one of my arms trembles as I try to swim. I think to myself that I must have been hit. I turn to look back, and I see that Eagle Eye isn’t swimming with us. He is still near the dead tree.
I think, He is going to die. Like my father. Like Shufflewing.
Eagle Eye stands motionless, watching the Crocodile warriors as they move close to him. Some of them lift their spears to aim at him.
The First Voyage Page 6
