In seconds, Corowa dove in the water after her, followed by an avalanche of wood sliding toward the shore. The sound of snapping beams and cracking plywood drowned out my screams. Reflexively, I jumped on top of the grandstand platform where Bittermen had spewed his lies and rode it like a sleigh to the water’s edge. When the pile settled, there was no sign of either girl.
Figgie dove into the churning water, knocking away broken beams and debris. I waded in to help, and we shoved aside fragments of the grandstand in search of the girls. Suddenly, Corowa burst through the chopping waves, gasping for air.
“Over here, help us!” Corowa cried, pulling Ghera’s head out of the water. “She hurt her shoulder and can’t swim.”
Figgie raced over and they both slid Ghera onto a piece of plywood. She coughed and spit out water as Corowa slapped her back. Figgie pulled them in as I swam out to help them to shore. We stood in silence for a moment, admiring our cleanup job. Then Corowa and Ghera began jumping up and down, cheering. The opening to the canal was finally cleared.
“We did it!” I shouted, jumping up and down with the others.
Careful not to hurt Ghera’s sore shoulder, the four of us hugged and clutched each other the way Papa and the lads did after winning a cricket match.
“You’re free, go now!” we shouted at the orcas.
But they seemed strangely detached from our efforts to free them. They huddled in the far end of the pen without showing the least bit of curiosity about what we were doing. The water was already an inch lower on the canal brick by the time Corowa had finished making a sling for Ghera from Bittermen’s canvas sign. Soon dusk would settle over the bay and we wouldn’t be able to help them. I waded into the cove splashing water in their direction.
“Go on now, get,” I yelled, pointing at the canal. “LEAVE!”
Figgie laughed at me, which grew more irritating by the second.
“Well, if you have a better idea, mate, let me in on it,” I growled.
“They are afraid, hungry, and out of sorts,” said Figgie. “We must gain their trust again.”
How do you gain the trust of an animal twenty times your size? Figgie had that look on his face, as though he was holding something back.
I asked what was on his mind.
“I hope you understand they won’t be back,” he said, looking away from me.
“Of course, they will,” I said, annoyed. “By this time next year, this will all be forgotten.”
“They will not return,” said Figgie. “Our pact with the orcas is broken.”
“But we didn’t do anything wrong. We’re trying to save them,” I pleaded.
Figgie stood silently with his shoulders slumped searching for the right words.
“Then I’m going to show them trust,” I added, pulling my muddy dress over my head and diving into the surf in my camisole and Asa’s breeches.
I swam toward the pod. Jungay was in the back of the pen by himself. Miah slid up close to her mother. I passed between Matong, Towrang, and Burnum. Yindi clicked as I approached, as if signaling I could enter the king’s chamber. I darted underwater. Jungay’s full profile made me realize just how large he was and how dangerous this journey would be for him.
I scissor-kicked around his head, but Jungay did nothing to acknowledge me. I took another deep breath and swam down to rub the top of his snout, as I was accustomed to doing, and hugged him with all my might.
My lungs were about to burst, but I would rather have died right there than let go. Finally, he opened his mouth and gave me a toothy grin. Then, Jungay ascended, holding me gently in those five-inch-long teeth as I gasped for air. He pivoted in a circle so I could see the whole pen from his view before slipping back into the water.
Figgie swam halfway to meet me.
“You were under for some time,” he said.
“Jungay doesn’t always recognize the needs of small lungs,” I added, “but I have an idea about winning the pod’s trust.”
Back on shore, I explained how we could make friends with the orcas and save them too. My idea met with blank stares, even from Figgie. They questioned everything. It was getting too dark; the guards might return. Finally, Corowa just said what was on their minds.
“You want us to ride whales?” she questioned.
“It’s easy. I do it all the time…” I said, my voice trailing into blank stares.
“Savannah, this isn’t an easy thing to do,” said Figgie.
“You just keep your feet steady,” I said, “and hold the top fin. like a wind sail. It’s easier than it sounds. The orcas will only trust us is if we go with them, and if we don’t lead them out, they will beach themselves tonight. You know they will.”
“How do you know this, Savannah?” Corowa asked.
“I just know…” I said, pausing. “Jungay told me.”
“Very well, we shall go,” said Corowa, nodding approval.
“Yes, we shall and hope Caleb, Abe, and the rest of the crew come soon,” added Figgie, as we looked out at the pod.
“No one else is coming,” a female voice sounded behind us. “They’re all lost in the fog.”
Aiden and Arizona materialized out of the mist.
“She tricked me,” cried Aiden.
“I followed him for a block and then gave him a ride here,” Arizona said, waving her hand, “but let’s not quibble.”
“Are you going to tell on us,” I asked.
“That depends on what you’re doing,” said Arizona, trying to make sense of the scene.
“We are riding whales to their freedom,” said Corowa, hands on her hips.
Explaining the situation to Arizona was a hard yakka. I expected her to laugh at every word. Instead, she listened intently, studying the orcas and us.
“So, our captain was right,” said Arizona. “He did see you riding a whale that night.”
“Well, maybe a little,” I said sheepishly, “but it was more like a carriage ride home.”
“Why go through all this trouble…for little whales?” she asked.
“Because it’s our duty to the bay,” I said. “You might not feel it yet, but this place is part of you. If we ignore it, we’ll be no better than the rest of this town. At least we have a chance to make a difference for ourselves and this orca family.”
“Your whale friend, the one that died,” asked Arizona, “was she part of this…family?”
“Yes, she was,” I said, starting to wade back into the water.
“Can I still help?” asked Aiden meekly.
“Of course, mate,” I said. “We could use another hand too.”
Holding Aiden’s chin but looking at Arizona, I added, “The great thing about families is they include anyone who wants to be part of them.”
“People use each other,” said Arizona, pacing the shore. “Trust exists only in poetry.”
“Did your father teach you that?” I asked her. “We can free the orcas, but you’re the only one who can free yourself.”
Figgie and Corowa waded in with Aiden and me. We were all apprehensive about the sharp-angled orca top fins that waited for us fifty yards away.
“Hold on,” yelled Arizona. “It’ll take a minute to get this damn dress off.”
Ghera helped her remove the voluminous cocoon and soon she was wading toward us in frilly neck-to-knee bloomers.
“Father gets awful belligerent when he gets his way all the time,” Arizona said, pulling off her stockings. “Besides, we motherless ones need to stick together.”
“We do at that,” I said. “Can you swim?”
“In Virginia, I studied acrobatics and fencing without Father knowing,” she said, joining us in the water. “I learned to swim when I was five.”
Arizona was right about the fog. It was continuing to settle in over the jagged rocks that f
ormed the crater rim of the cove and the back of the orcas’ prison. She dove into the surf. Arizona’s swimming form was as good as ours. I kept an eye on Aiden to make sure he could keep up as Corowa and Figgie led the way. Ghera waved from the shore with her good arm and yelled, “Hooroo!”
We swam to the midpoint of the cove where the barbed wire fencing was ripped away from the pen and waited for the pod.
The fog was rolling in but the sky was clearing.
The twilight-lit sky was empty of stars.
It was as though the comet had pulled them back with it. Yet I felt safe again in our own world as the orcas drifted toward us.
“They don’t eat people, do they?” Arizona asked, treading water.
“They are pretty hungry,” I said, with a grin, “but they can’t stomach that rich American diet.”
Jungay moved away from the others so I could meet him. Arizona’s mouth hung open as I hopped onto his back and surveyed all the saw-toothed fins huddled together.
“Wait over here,” I said, pointing to the back of the pen, “while we pop around and get things in order.”
Figgie moved our reluctant riders away from the pod while Jungay maneuvered between the inert orcas. He shook suddenly, knocking me off his back, and then dove, cupping me under his right front flipper. All the other orcas plunged, too, and I was thrust into a world of darting, diving, clicking, thrashing creatures. I don’t know which hurt more, my lungs or my ears from Jungay’s piercing songs. Just as quickly, we surfaced and I lay on his stomach gasping for air.
“Savannah, are you all right?” yelled Corowa.
Arizona screamed as did Ghera from the shore. Aiden just cried.
“She’s fine,” said Figgie.
I sat up and waved but Jungay bobbed listlessly in the water. The other orcas touched him with their flippers and eyed me as they passed. I shouted for the others to come over and meet the orcas. They went with Figgie to each orca, rubbing the tops of their foreheads so they could sense our kindness toward them.
“They are as afraid of us as we are of them,” I said, joining the group.
By the time we had petted each one, all of us relaxed, including the orcas, who clicked with delight. We went about picking a rider for every fourth orca. Figgie, behind me, would ride Burnum, his grandfather the great warrior. He hopped up on his back the way a gymnast would a balance beam. Corowa followed Figgie by sliding onto Towrang’s saddle patch and grabbing her top sail.
“I am a shield like Towrang!” shouted Corowa, joyfully thrusting her fist high.
Aiden looked at Matong’s grinning teeth sticking out of the water and floated back into me.
“I’m afraid,” said Aiden, throwing his arms around my neck.
“No you’re not,” I said, helping him swim to the orca, “you’re just like Matong. Quiet and powerful.”
“But he doesn’t like me,” cried Aiden.
Matong sank below him and gently rose, sliding the boy past his blowhole to his dorsal fin. I showed Aiden how to hold it. He stood with wobbly legs but held on.
“I suppose you want me to get on the big one,” said Arizona, as we swam toward Derain at the end of the pod.
“You’ll be on top of the mountain,” I said, slapping Derain’s side. “Don’t worry. She’ll keep an eye on you.”
We glided toward the canal opening, straightening out the long line of orcas as Ghera chased after us along the shore. A fleet of black sails in single file formed a four-hundred-foot-long caravan of orcas and riders. Jungay approached the opening slowly.
It was narrower than the rest of the canal.
“Stay low and hold on,” I shouted back. “They’ll dip low and then jump.”
The orcas bucked and bobbed up and down, creating waves that crashed against the lowered jetty. Figgie slipped off Burnum but jumped right back on. As a large wave created by the other orcas crested, Jungay rode it into the canal, scraping his flanks on sharp jetty rocks. The larger orcas each took a mini dive and leapt into the canal as Jungay had done. When it was Derain’s turn, she jumped in the air, causing Arizona to shriek.
Several dogs barked and ran to the edge of the steep gully that led down to the canal as lanterns lit in the distance.
There was no turning back. All the orcas in the canal were fleeing for freedom. If someone discovered us, the townspeople could converge on us with guns, harpoons, or worse—Bittermen. Our progress was silent and steady through the backyards and businesses of Old Town. We passed under an awning of flame trees that seemed to light our way. The sounds of neighbors helping each other clear the cyclone from their lives echoed to us. It was a peaceful floating parade punctuated by the rhythmic orca breathing. I didn’t have to speak to Figgie or the others to know they felt the same serenity I did.
Three kelpies charged down the embankment, snarling and barking at our pilgrimage. Jungay stopped and lifted his head to show his teeth, sending the dogs off with a whimper. I signaled that everything was fine by waving to each rider, and they each returned my wave all the way back to Arizona, who was now standing upright like the rest of us.
As we reached the bridge construction, I knew we were halfway there. It made me think of what Figgie had said about the orcas not returning, which would end whaling at Dawson Station and might kill Papa. The Law of the Bay, Mum, Uncle, and all my cobbers filled my mind.
Figgie was right. The whales were no longer ours to hunt and share with the orcas. Our bond with them had been broken.
They will go on and survive as they have for millions of years and the bay will live on, too, if we let it. I also thought of the terrible price Asa and Eli paid and the rage that lived on after them. I wondered if somehow the bay would finally grant them peace.
We were at the final wide turn into Horse Head Bay. I didn’t know if around the bend storm debris blocked our path, or if it opened a gateway to freedom. We traveled through the everyday lives of Paradise with no one suspecting our exodus. A hobo encamped on an outcrop struggled to his feet as we passed under his makeshift abode. He stared at us, then started to raise his hands to his mouth, as if to shout an alarm. Instead, in shabby attire, he stood at attention and saluted us as our procession passed his reviewing stand.
I saluted him back.
On the outskirts of town, a banjo from a boardinghouse balcony serenaded us with “Farewell to Greta” as we silently slipped away from Paradise under the cover of bottlebrush, wattle, and eucalyptus trees. The canal flowed effortlessly into the wide expanse of the channel. Beyond it was the Tasman Sea, the great South Pacific Ocean, and all the possibilities they contained. Jungay emptied into Horse Head Bay with a breaching jump that sent me airborne, except for a hand gripping his top fin.
All the orcas entered playfully.
Above, the emerald southern lights danced across the sky. We riders stood on our orcas not sure what to do, knowing that we didn’t want our journey to end.
“Can’t we stay like this forever?” begged Corowa.
“Do it again, do it again,” shouted Aiden with glee.
Figgie just looked at me with that wide, impish grin that I’d first seen in the woods when I met him. Each of us shared a communal moment of contentment that can’t be purchased, explained, or recreated. Even Arizona wiped a tear from her eye as she patted Derain’s top fin.
One by one, our riders slid off the backs of their orcas and swam for the beach.
Figgie slid off Burnum and swam over, hopping up next to me on Jungay. The water was still as can be.
“It’s time, Savannah,” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder.
“I know,” I said, tears welling in my eyes, “I know.”
Figgie patted the scar on Jungay’s top fin and uttered a few phrases in his native tongue before diving into the surf.
“Take me with you,” I whispered to Jungay, lying down on h
is forehead.
As the orcas set out under magnetic ambient light, he slid me gently into the water with his answer. I gripped the base of his top fin with one hand and paddled to stay afloat with the other.
And held on.
There was still so much more to I wanted to say to him, Derain, and Miah, whom I hardly knew. Jungay rolled his head out of the water, and I looked in his eye one last time. The withdrawing waves pulled me toward Jungay’s world and farther from the mundane worries of my own. Then Jungay pulled back, creating the slightest bit of space between us and I knew our time together had come to an end.
I released my grip. My fingers glided off Jungay into the choppy water. The savage rage I had sensed from the bay only a few days before was gone.
The bay and all it held were at peace.
I stood in the chest-high water and watched the glowing horizon. My heart pounded faster with each inch Jungay’s black sail slipped below the waves. When the surface of the bay was empty of his presence, I felt my heart drop like an anchor cut loose from its chain.
I stumbled on the long walk toward the sandy berm when Figgie ran down to help me to my feet. Soon the others followed until the six of us huddled together, staring out at the future as if it should begin like a kinetoscope.
We hugged without words, trying to hold on to the moment as the waves lapped at our feet.
West Wind Redux
I stood alone where we had once stood together, the waves still lapping at my feet. The bay is as pristine and fresh as I remembered, but my memories are not. And yet returning here, the stories have unfurled much the way my long white hair drifts and blows in this warm offshore breeze.
Removed from world events at art school, I received a photo of Figgie in uniform. While his head had been shorn of its gorgeous flowing locks, that impish smile and those mischievous almond eyes showed he was still my Figgie. He joined the Fifteenth Battalion of the Australian Imperial Force, his horsemen skills making him a valuable asset.
The Whaler's Daughter Page 23
