by Mandy Hager
Joseph rubbed his hair as dry as possible with Maryam's shirt and stretched his arms towards the heavens with a tired yawn. “Thanks for your help. Can you take the tiller now? I need some rest.” He draped the two damp shirts across the pandanus thatch to dry. “Keep an eye out for the wind, it's stronger than it looks—and wake me if you see anything that remotely looks like land! I'll get the other two to help you.”
When Ruth emerged from the shelter, Maryam noticed immediately how much less strained she looked. She had more colour in her face, and even smiled when Maryam pointed out the flock of birds.
“I dreamed we landed in the Lord's own realm, and the Lamb greeted us Himself and made us welcome.”
Lazarus, refreshed too, laughed. “And just what did He look like, oh great oracle of the high seas?”
His sneering slapped Ruth's cheeks with pink but she did not falter in her answer. “Like He looked upon the cross. His hands and feet were marked with blood, yet from Him shone a sacred light.”
There was such awe and longing in her voice it made Maryam want to cry. Despite what Father Joshua had done to her, Ruth's faith was secure. The familiar touchstones of the Holy Book helped keep her sane.
“It's a sign, Ruthie,” Maryam reassured her. “The Lord is telling you all will be well.”
“Either that or He's telling her she's soon to meet her maker because we're doomed,” Lazarus drawled.
Always ready with a put-down.
“Take the tiller, Ruth,” Maryam ordered, seizing Lazarus by the arm and towing him up to the front of the boat. Some things could not be left unsaid. “Don't toy with her,” she whispered to him furiously. “I don't care what you say to me, but leave Ruth be.”
He rubbed the place where her fingers had dug into his elbow, and a caustic smile twisted his mouth. “Let me get this straight. If I leave your friend alone, then I can say whatever I like to you?”
She nodded reluctantly, realising she'd backed herself into a corner. There was nothing she could do but take the hand he now held out to her. Still, she conceded only one half-hearted shake before tugging her hand back quickly from his grasp.
“We have a deal then,” he said.
“I guess we do.” She hated how he looked at her, like a hunter eyeing up his prey.
“Then right now I have this to say—” He rubbed his toe along a join between the timbers of the deck. “I saw you kissing my cousin in the night.”
She found she could not look at him, and studied instead his restless foot. His toes were long, each joint clearly delineated beneath his pale skin. “What of it?” she challenged him, knowing there was no point in denial. But it infuriated her that he seemed to know what she was doing or thinking at every turn.
“Nothing, little Sister. Nothing.” He leaned in towards her, his voice now serious and hushed. “But be careful where you rest your heart. Your blood may have given him a boost, but, believe me, Te Matee Iai does not give up its own so easily.”
Her gaze flew up to his, but she could not read the content of his eyes. “What is it you're trying to say?”
“Only this: those who use the Blessed Sisters’ blood to halt Te Matee Iai's progress are not cured, merely given a reprieve.”
“Reprieve?”
He ran his hand almost tenderly down one of the ropes, and sighed. “Have you not wondered why so many of your Sisters have already died? Or why more and more are picked each Judgement time to fill the ranks? The need for blood—ongoing need—is as endless as this sea.”
“You mean—” Her question died as the meaning of his words struck her full force. He was saying Joseph still could die. But even as she processed this, out of the corner of her eye she saw an unfathomable emotion ripple across Lazarus's face. Of course! He was teasing her, knowing full well how much his prediction would cause her grief. “You're lying,” she accused him. “I heard your own mother say she could maintain his strength.”
“Maintain, yes. Keep him alive without more blood? Not a chance.” He looked pleased with himself, as though he believed he'd dealt her a mortal blow.
“You really are detestable. What kind of person would wish his cousin dead merely to score a point with me?” The answer came easily enough: a liar and heartless beast.
She turned her back on his deceit, hurrying down the deck to join Ruth at the tiller. From now on, she vowed, she would not rise to his bait, no matter how he taunted her. And if he thought he could lie to her—well, he was wrong.
The wind rose to a gusty westerly, hitting the boat head on and making a hard slog of progress as they tacked from side to side to make leeway towards the west. Maryam and Lazarus were forced to work together, adjusting the heavy sails each time they made a turn. It was arduous and concentrated work, and by noon the sun blazed directly overhead, the harsh rays bouncing off the water and striking at Lazarus's pale unprotected skin like open flames.
Maryam had just ducked into the shelter for a drink of water when she heard Ruth give a strangled cry from her station at the tiller.
“Sweet Lord in Heaven! Come and see this.”
Maryam rushed to her, following the line of Ruth's arm as she pointed out in front of them to the south-west. There, at the very edge of the horizon, something broke the regularity of the hazy border between sea and sky.
“Can you see it too?” Ruth demanded.
Maryam blinked and looked again, clambering to the very prow of the boat to see if she could gain a better view. There was something there, she was sure of it.
“I can!” she called back, her heart banging out its excitement despite the wilting effects of the sun. But the shadowy apparition was further to the south than any land they'd plotted on the map. Time to wake Joseph, she thought. He will know.
She charged back down the deck and ducked into the shelter, where Joseph lay sprawled across the bedding, his face flushed and his breathing thick and laboured in the stifling heat. She shook him by the shoulder.
“Joseph! Wake up! We think we might have sight of land!”
His eyes shot open but took a moment to focus on her face. “What?”
“Land!” she repeated. “Come take a look.”
He stirred himself, reaching for the map as he followed her outside.
She pointed to the mysterious lump on the horizon. “See? Right there!”
He cupped his hand over his eyes, peering intently into the distance before turning his attention to the map. “It has to be Marawa Island,” he agreed. “There's nothing else even remotely near us.”
“Praise the Lord!” Ruth cried, her anxiety extinguished by the joy that swept the group.
“We'll need to sail harder on to the wind if we're to reach it before nightfall,” Lazarus said.
Maryam knew he was right, but even now could not bring herself to acknowledge him. Instead she turned to Joseph. “How long, do you reckon, until we're there?”
Joseph shrugged. “Hard to tell. But we'll need to leave at least an hour of light to find a safe way through the reef.”
“And if we don't?”
“Then we'll have to circle it all night, well out at sea, and wait till morning.”
“You're joking,” Ruth wailed. “You mean we'd have to wait all night?”
“If you want to reach land safely, we really have no other choice.”
“In that case, let's get moving,” Maryam said, looking up to check the position of the sun. “I figure we have about seven hours of good light.” She studied Joseph, who still looked flushed. “I'll make some lunch, then let's see if we can move this boat more quickly.”
He grinned at her. “All right. You're on!”
Never was a meal prepared and eaten in such haste. It was as if they'd been infested by a swarm of ngongo bugs, the itch to reach land so great that sitting still was all but impossible. The race was on as soon as they had swallowed their last mouthfuls of the stale bread.
Joseph, Lazarus and Ruth took charge of the ropes, while Maryam swung the
tiller in an endless cycle of hard tacks. Their concentration was palpable; no one spoke bar the odd curt call for help. After an hour the heat and sustained effort began to sap their enthusiasm, and still the island remained a teasing shadow at the far edge of their world. But they slogged on, breaking only for much-needed water, and by the passing of the second hour the island was clearly outlined against the sky.
“Have you thought about our tactics once we land the boat?” Maryam asked Joseph during a brief break for water rations. Now that the island lay before them, thoughts of their likely reception weighed heavily upon her. What if the people of Marawa were hostile to strangers? What on earth would they do then?
“I'm sure when they've heard our plight they'll take us in.”
“You're assuming they'll understand what we're saying,” Lazarus chipped in. “You said that they turned away the missionaries—what if they can't understand a word we say?”
“That's where I'm counting on Maryam and Ruth to help. My father was convinced that all the islands once shared the same far-distant ancestors, so hopefully they'll recognise some of Onewēre's words.”
“But I can hardly remember how to speak it,” Ruth said. “Blessed Sisters are forced to speak English once we're taken at the Judgement.”
“I can understand our language when it's spoken, but I'm not sure I can string whole sentences together and make sense,” Maryam added. “What if we say something wrong?”
Joseph gestured helplessly. “I have no idea,” he said, frustration clipping off his words. “I never said it would be easy.”
Maryam glanced up at him sharply—it was so unlike him to snap. She saw now how drained he looked. The rings under his eyes had darkened almost to black. “Let's focus on one problem at a time,” she said, hoping to relieve him of some stress.
“Maryam's right,” Lazarus said. He, too, seemed to be studying Joseph intently. “Let's get there first, then worry about how we'll be met.”
Joseph leaned against the starboard rail, closing his eyes for a moment before he proceeded back to the ropes to start up the whole tacking manoeuvre once again. Meanwhile Lazarus rummaged in the shelter, returning with a large clay pot now emptied of fresh water. He flattened himself along the forward deck between the hulls and scooped sea water up into it.
“You look overheated, cousin. Let me help!” With this, he poured the water over Joseph's head.
Joseph gasped and wiped the salty water from his eyes. But he was smiling, Maryam noticed, as he wrestled the pot from Lazarus and rushed forward to refill it, chasing after Lazarus until he, too, was soaked right through.
“Beautiful!” Lazarus spluttered, retrieving the pot. “Now for the girls!”
Soon all four were scrabbling for some kind of container, hurling water over whoever was at hand, laughing and squealing in shock and pleasure at the unexpected release of tension, until not a person or a strip of deck was left undrenched. When at last they'd had enough, they sprawled on the deck to dry themselves before somewhat reluctantly returning to their tasks.
Two hours on, and the island took on a more solid shape. It rose to a perfect peak on its most northern side, with a plateau to the south that gently fell away into the sea. It was still too far distant for anyone on board to tell if there was jungle or where villages might lie, yet to see the island growing real before their eyes filled all four with renewed drive.
There were more birds in the skies above them now, and a startling array of creatures in the watery world below. Fine-winged storm petrels hovered on the highest air currents. Frigate birds, with their curious red pouches, reeled and screeched directly overhead, as if they were cheering the travellers onwards as they battled the stubborn headwind, accompanied by a forward guard of streamlined flying fish.
It was impossible not to feel excited by the prospect of reaching land. Though the Apostles had claimed there was nothing beyond the small sanctuary of Onewēre, the four escapees now had proof that life—albeit only birds and fish so far—existed beyond Onewēre's distant shores. It boded well, reinforcing Maryam's growing conviction that the Apostles’ dire talk was nothing more than wicked lies to maintain fear. She closed her eyes and tilted her face towards the sun, allowing the golden light to filter through her eyelids and collect behind them in a warm pool of hope.
Joseph's coughing distracted her. He was doubled over, trying to regain his breath.
“Time for a break,” Lazarus announced, pointing to the shaded shelter. “I'll take the tiller for this tack while you three rest out of the sun.”
Joseph raised his head, his eyes watering from the choking fit. “But we need to maintain—”
“We've time enough,” Maryam cut in, grateful to Lazarus, despite herself. He understood his cousin well enough to know he'd never take a break while others worked.
She nodded her thanks as Lazarus took over the tiller, then she scrambled to the shelter to pour Joseph a drink. He flopped down beside her, his breathing laboured and his eyelids ringed with red. As he took the cup from her she noticed how his hand shook and how he winced as he tried to get comfortable.
“Are you all right?”
“I'm fine,” he said, falling back onto the sleeping mat. “My body's just discovering muscles I didn't know it had.”
“I know what you mean,” Ruth said. “I've got blisters from the ropes.” She held out her hands to reveal raw strips where the ropes had run through her fingers and chaffed her skin.
“Let me go on the ropes then,” Maryam offered. “You work the tiller, Joseph, and Ruth can be our lookout now that we're close to land.”
“What about you?” Joseph said. “You have to preserve your strength—it's still only a short time since I took your blood.” He sniffed loudly, wiping his runny nose with the back of his hand.
“I'm in better shape than you,” Maryam countered. “You look as if you've caught a chill.”
“It's nothing, while you—”
“Listen to you two! It's not a competition as to who is feeling worse!” Ruth laughed.
Maryam felt herself blushing. Ruth was right in a way. It was as if she and Joseph were circling around, worrying about the other at their own expense. The difference, though, was that she knew her strength was rebuilding, while Joseph's seemed to ebb away. And this mattered to her—mattered more than she could ever put into words. But she also knew that the only way Joseph would get the rest he needed was if they made it to land.
“Thank you, Mother Ruth!” she said, trying desperately to lift the mood. “Now could I humbly suggest we have a snack and then put all our effort into reaching the island?”
The sun was losing its heat when they finally approached the reef that protected Marawa Island from the open sea. They could see the waves break across its back in a seemingly continuous ring that divided the dark blue of the ocean from the luminous mottled turquoise of the shallow water inside the reef.
The island was clearly visible now. Lush impenetrable-looking jungle spilled down from the cone-like peak right to the edges of the glistening coral sand. Overhead, dozens of birds competed for the updrafts, their cries clearly audible above the boil of the surf. If there were people on the island, there was no sign—it looked as pristine and uninhabited as when the Lord first formed it.
They slackened off the sails, allowing the boat to wallow on the swell as all four made their way up to the prow and studied the way the waves broke on the thick ring of reef.
“I can't see any opening,” Joseph said. He pointed to the plateau at the southern end. “I think we'd better circle round and see what's on the other side.”
“I agree,” Maryam said, trying to put from her mind any reason why the place should look so deserted. “Surely there's a passageway if your father said they traded with Onewēre in the past.”
Together they worked to haul in the sails, leaving only a small storm jib that was much easier to control. Lazarus took command of the tiller; the other three stood up at the bow to sca
n for rocks or coral shelves that might hole the boat. Progress though the sloppy swell was slow. Many times Lazarus was forced to manoeuvre the craft around abruptly as one of the others warned him away from a threatening dark mass beneath the water. It was not worth the risk.
Then, as they rounded the headland at the south end of the island, a whole new vista opened up to them. The plateau folded in on itself, forming a perfect crescent-shaped bay. At its centre, strange conical parapets just peeked out from the tangled mass of jungle, weathered to a streaky grey.
“Do you see that?” Maryam shouted. Her cry carried to the birds, which picked up the duel between excitement and trepidation in her voice and relayed it in raucous echoes out across the bay.
“There! Look!” Ruth's voice, too, flew high as she pointed to a smooth channel of water amidst the waves churning against the reef. “There's a break!”
“You're right!” Joseph turned to Lazarus. “Do you see it?”
Lazarus nodded. “What do you think?”
“Let's approach it slowly and see if it's wide enough to sail through.” Joseph looked to the girls. “Be ready to reach for the ropes if we have to spin away at the last moment.”
All thoughts of the strange building were pushed aside as the four put their energy and concentration into crossing through the passageway between the deadly coral shoals. With Maryam keeping watch out on the starboard hull and Ruth to port, Joseph straddled the carved figurehead to scan the sea below as Lazarus steered a wide lazy loop away from the island. Then he turned the boat and aimed it directly back towards the break.
Maryam glanced at Lazarus for a moment, grudgingly acknowledging his natural skill and the intense aura of concentration that lit his face. He was in his element, boy against nature, and in that moment his whole aspect changed. It amazed her, this sudden likeness to Joseph, the way he radiated the same determination and strength of spirit. For a brief second his gaze swept hers.
“Focus,” he snapped. “Keep your eye out for snags.”
She flushed, knowing she deserved his warning yet hating how he always made her feel in the wrong, especially when he was the one who should be shamed by all the sins he'd perpetrated in his own short life.
