A Crack in the Sea

by H. M. Bouwman

  The old king waved his free hand dismissively. “Not a real one. Not like a wooden thing you open and shut. But something—something like Venus’s. A gate, a window, something that had clicked open in the storm. And the birds took her through. The dolphins saw it; so did the sharks. A space that opened up but only for a short time. I thought—” The old man gazed into the distance as if his rheumy eyes could make out the doorway.

  “What did you think?” Putnam knew his father could easily drift into the daydreams of old age, and he wasn’t going to let him. Not now that he was really talking.

  “Ah. The fish told me—they said they could watch for another doorway. They said these openings occurred sometimes, mostly in storms—or sometimes in whirlpools. And when they found an opening, they could take me to it, if I wanted and if I hurried, and I could go through, too. Just me. Or all of us, all of Raftworld, whatever I wanted. I thought about it for a long time, my head stuck under the water like a crazy person. Do you remember?”

  His son nodded, watching the birds flit through the oversized tomato plants. Yes, he remembered. The long moments, his father kneeling, head in the water, communing with the fish.

  “And finally, I said no.”

  Putnam had known already, had known the moment his father said what the offer was the fish had made. But it was still a surprise to hear the words. “But—why not go?”

  The old man shrugged. “It was Amelia’s world she went back to. Not mine.”

  “How do you know that her world wasn’t ours, too—the one we came from? She said there was an Africa there.”

  “But I never came from Africa. Venus and Swimmer did, almost two hundred years ago, with all those folks in the old story—they came through one of these same doorways, if that story is true.” He sighed and looked down at his hands, now both clenching his son’s arm. “Truth is, I was scared to go. I’m an old man. And as for making that decision for all of Raftworld? I didn’t have the right. That kind of road, once taken, can’t be retraced easily—if at all.”

  Putnam shook his head, half in disbelief and half in anger—and perhaps another half, if that were possible, in disgust. If he were king, he’d have made a different decision. He’d have done something. He’d have gone.

  But that wasn’t correct, he reminded himself afterward. He wouldn’t have taken action, he wouldn’t have gone, because he couldn’t talk to the fish, and he would not have been given that choice. Even when he became king someday, he’d never have the chance to choose this path.

  Unless. Unless he could find a way to talk to the fish. Or someone who could translate for him.

  PART SIX

  Where Everything Comes Together, We Hope.

  Summer 1978.

  The Second World.

  1

  Pip’s Story.

  BUT FIRST: you are wondering, perhaps (I hope you are wondering) where Thanh is (and Sang and Mai and everyone from the little boat that burst apart in the maelstrom) and when he (and they) will meet up with Kinchen and Pip and Caesar. Because, of course, Thanh will meet up with them—otherwise why would he be in this story?

  We will get to them soon.

  • • •

  WHEN PIP told the Raft King and the others about his conversation with the fish, he said the smaller fish had brought larger creatures—sharks and dolphins—to talk with him, and they had told him that there were indeed doorways to the first world that opened sometimes during storms. And yes, they knew how to find these doorways, which were tricky, as they opened and closed very quickly, snapping shut at a turn of the storm and moving on, only to flick open in a different location next time.

  “There’s more,” Pip said slowly to the king. “But first we have to talk.”

  “You gave your word,” Jupiter reminded the king.

  “Keep your promise,” said Caesar.

  The king folded his arms across his wide chest. “Fine. Talk.”

  The guards tipped over a small rowboat that had been dragged onto the edge of the dock for repairs. Jupiter sat down on this makeshift bench, resting his cane against his knee. The king did not sit. Their raft rocked gently, and a seagull hopped on the little boats tied off it, looking for a crumb. The guards stepped back and politely pretended not to be listening.

  “You can’t drag everyone into the first world,” Caesar said.

  The two guards edged closer.

  “You don’t have the right to do that,” she continued.

  “I’m the king. Of course I have the right.”

  “The right to make such a big decision for all of us?” Jupiter asked mildly. He sounded as calm as if he were asking what time it was or if he might have a cup of tea.

  “What’s this about dragging us into the first world?” said the first guard.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” the king said to Caesar and Jupiter and the others. “I’m going to solve all Raftworld’s problems. Overcrowding? Fixed. We’re going to actually find Africa—instead of just looking for it as we’ve done all these years. And we’ll live there.”

  “We’ve been looking for Africa?” asked the first guard. “I mean, I know it’s the story, but . . .”

  “I thought it was a metaphor,” said the second guard. “It’s real?” He sounded excited.

  “It can be a metaphor and also be real,” Jupiter said. “And we are overcrowded.” He looked up at the king from his seat on the overturned boat. “You could take your idea to the people—ask them what they want. And as a people, we could consider this solution.” He added, gently, “That is your job as Raft King, after all—to help the people make big decisions.”

  “But the people might not agree with me,” said the king.

  (Caesar nodded vehemently.)

  “They don’t know what’s best for them,” the Raft King said.

  “People need to choose for themselves.” It was the first chance Pip had to squeeze in his words. Everyone else was so quick to talk. He said it again, louder. “People need to choose for themselves.”

  Everyone stared at him, a sea of faces that all looked the same—and all confused. Pip focused on Kinchen—white hair stripe—and forced himself to keep talking.

  “What I mean to say is that people need to live their own lives and make their own choices. Even if they make the wrong choice or they aren’t as good at living their lives as you would be at living their lives.” Pip stopped, scared. He wasn’t a good speaker. He’d never talked to a group of people like this before, and he was worried he’d said something silly—or something they would misunderstand. But there was more. “One thing I like about being here—I mean, I like Tathenn, too—but one thing I love about here is that I get to make my own decisions. Even if they’re wrong. I like it. And I don’t recognize everyone, but I can tell people that—like I did with Jupiter—and it will be okay.” He was talking only to Kinchen now, willing her to understand. Things had to be different from now on, and she had to know that.

  Kinchen blinked rapidly, several times, like she had to clear dust from her eyes. Then she nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve done everything wrong.”

  “No! You’re a great sister. I missed you horribly. And Old Ren. And—home. But I want to live differently than we did. I don’t want to hide from people.” He took a deep breath. “I want to learn how to talk to people and understand them better. And I want to talk to more fish. They have pretty good ideas sometimes.” He grinned, suddenly happy. “I want to travel and meet sea creatures all over the world. I’ve already made a good start.”

  “Not much yet,” the Raft King said. “You Islanders need to take more trips.”

  “Maybe you can help him with that,” Jupiter said.

  “So you’ll agree not to drag everyone through the doorway with you?” Caesar asked.

  The Raft King lowered his head.
“I’ll take it to a vote. As Jupiter suggested.”

  There was a pause as everyone thought about a vote and what that might mean. Caesar started bouncing, face screwed up in thought. Kinchen frowned as if trying to think of some way a vote might be a bad thing.

  “That will be good,” said Jupiter.

  Pip agreed. And now, he thought, he could tell the rest of the news. “The fish said more. They said that there’s a door stuck open. Right now.”

  The Raft King sucked in his breath loudly. Caesar stopped bouncing.

  “Not stuck open.” He paused, trying to think of the best way to explain. “Held open.”

  “Held open by what?” asked Kinchen.

  “The fish said—they said there’s a sea monster sitting in the doorway.”

  For the first time, Jupiter looked surprised.

  Caesar gasped. “Another monster?”

  The Raft King clapped his hands. “That’s perfect. An open doorway. We can go back and forth as much as we want.” He stopped and thought. “As long as the monster isn’t vicious. And stays in the doorway. Or maybe we can find a way to prop the door open.”

  Jupiter was already shaking his head. “The two worlds are separate for a reason. A door shouldn’t be kept open between them. It’s not natural.”

  “What do you mean, not natural? People have gone between the two worlds before.” The Raft King swelled to fill his cape.

  “Yes, but it’s always been a one-way trip.”

  “Not for Amelia.”

  Jupiter said, “A fluke. Not something to be tried lightly.”

  “If a magic door is held open, it’s not magic anymore,” Pip said. When Jupiter nodded at him, he continued. “If the door is open and it shouldn’t be, then we should try to close it. I think I could talk to the monster and ask it to shut the door—I’ve talked to sea monsters before. Well, one sea monster,” he amended. This might even be the one I’m looking for. Her.

  “Close it after I go through,” said the Raft King. “Because I am going through.” He cut his hand at Caesar in a don’t-talk gesture, then turned to Jupiter. “I’ll take my idea to the people—and I won’t take Raftworld with me if they don’t want to go. But I’m going through no matter what. I’ll find Amelia and Africa.”

  Jupiter studied the king for a moment, then nodded. “That’s fair. I’ll call for a meeting. And I’ll tell the people what happened here and what we talked about. I’ll tell it fairly. And people can decide if they want to come with you or not.” He bowed his head to the king. “Will that be acceptable?”

  “I suppose,” said the king.

  • • •

  A DAY and a half floated slowly by, water without current, while they waited for all the people to hear the news and vote on what they wanted to do. Meanwhile, Caesar and Kinchen rested, and all three of the children told their stories to one another. Pip was pleased to hear that his old friend the Kraken had helped Caesar and Kinchen reach Raftworld; Kinchen was less pleased to hear that Pip had been good friends with the Kraken and she’d never known about it.

  “What other secrets do you have?” she said in a grumpy tone. They sat in Jupiter’s house, where they were all temporarily staying, even though it was crowded. Now, they were sitting cozily on floor cushions. Caesar ate green bread by the slice, while Kinchen and Pip leaned back against the wall.

  Pip shrugged, not sure how to answer. “It wasn’t a secret. It was just something I hadn’t told you. I thought—” He stopped, uncertain how to proceed.

  “Thought what?”

  “That you weren’t interested in underwater stuff.”

  “Or maybe he thought you’d feel bad,” Caesar said with her mouth half full. “Because you don’t have the same gift. That’s how my adopted family was—they didn’t like me going out walking, because they couldn’t walk. They were jealous.”

  “You think I’m jealous? You both think I’m jealous?” Kinchen sat forward, angry.

  Caesar stopped chewing, swallowed, coughed several times, and then said, “No, of course not.”

  Pip stared.

  “I’m not jealous!” Kinchen said. She slapped her hand on the table.

  “No,” Pip agreed slowly. “You’re not. I never thought so. But you are left out sometimes. Me and Ren, and now Caesar. You feel left out. And I’m sorry about that.”

  Kinchen looked away from them. “Pass the bread.” She carefully cut a slice and ate it. No one spoke. Finally she said, “Maybe a little. Maybe a little left out.”

  Pip scooted close and put his arm around her shoulder. “You are the best big sister,” he said. “I mean it. The best big sister I’ve ever had.”

  She stuck out her tongue at him. It was greenish.

  Caesar laughed and took back the loaf.

  • • •

  MEANWHILE, JUPITER retold the story of what had happened many times, to many different groups of Raftworlders. And the outcome of it all was that the people decided not to go with the king into the first world. It was a hard decision—many people wanted to go, to travel someplace entirely new, to embark on a grand adventure; and most people wanted to visit the land their ancestors had come from. But a one-way trip, with no return? Jupiter made it clear that the doorway would shut once they went through it. Eventually, everyone decided to stay. Every person. After two hundred years, the second world was their home, they told Jupiter. They loved it here, even overcrowded, and they were sure they could find a solution that didn’t involve permanently leaving.

  Jupiter reported back to the Raft King. The king didn’t believe Jupiter, so he went to talk to some of the people himself. And he got the same answers. “I’ll talk to everyone one more time,” he told Jupiter, “when we find the doorway, and it’s time for me to go through. I’ll see if anyone changes their mind then.”

  Jupiter nodded.

  Pip could see that the Raft King still believed people would choose to go with him through the doorway. And maybe some would—but Pip could see that Jupiter doubted it.

  He was worried, though. What if he, Pip, found out where the doorway was, revealed its location to the Raft King, and the Raft King took them all through it anyway? Pip told Jupiter his fear that evening as the two of them walked home from their meeting with the king. No guards followed them, as Pip was no longer a prisoner.

  “He could try to take everyone through,” said Jupiter, pushing a broken branch out of the path with his cane. “But the guards and rowers don’t want to go. And the rowers run the hydraulics. So . . . unless the king can run all four engines on his own, it won’t happen.”

  “The rowers will disobey him if he tells them to take Raftworld through the doorway?”

  “Of course. We voted.” Jupiter stopped in the narrow path to face Pip. “The king only rules because the people let him. That’s how it works.” They resumed walking. “I think it’s safe to tell him how to get to the doorway.”

  The next morning, Pip put his head under the water and got directions from the fish. The rowers clicked on the hydraulic engines, turned Raftworld, and headed for the stuck-open doorway—and the sea monster that was holding it open.

  2

  What They All Saw.

  BUT THE NEXT AFTERNOON, when Raftworld drew close to the stuck-open doorway, they saw something very strange indeed. A group of people, six of them, maybe a family: two men—one injured—and three younger people, one carrying a baby on his hip. All holding hands, or arms around shoulders. Walking on the water.

  Walking like angels—like refugees, like survivors, like miracles given bodies. Walking on the water.

  3

  Kinchen’s Story.

  KINCHEN SQUINTED to see better. In the family that walked on the water, the skinniest boy—or maybe a girl? with a bloodstained bandage on her head—held the hands of one boy and one man. The other man, short and stocky,
a bandage around his ribs, walked with his arms slung over the lean man and the sturdiest boy—the one carrying the baby. The boy with the baby and the other boy, the shortest, on opposite ends of the line and with free hands, waved.

  At the king’s command, the Raft’s engines slowed and stopped. No one spoke. They’d never seen such people before.

  When the family was close enough, Kinchen could see their pinched faces lit with joy and, behind the joy, exhaustion. The tall, lean man called loudly but not in a language Kinchen could understand. The sturdy boy translated in heavily accented English. “Please help us.”

  Caesar jumped up and down, calling, “Of course! Come over! Hello! Welcome!” The family stepped aboard the raft and collapsed, all of them, on the dock, Raftworlders talking and running errands and bringing food and blankets and fetching the doctor.

  “How did you do that?” Caesar asked the boys a few minutes later, as she and Kinchen dished up bread and stew for the wanderers. “Walk on the water? Which of you has the magic?”

  The shorter boy pointed at the bigger one, who had raggedy short hair and a bright red shirt and who shrugged as if to say, It was nothing.

  Jupiter knelt in front of the baby—really a toddler—with a soft inner slice of bread.

  “What’s wrong with the baby’s foot?” asked Kinchen. It was twisted inward in a half circle.

  She realized immediately she’d asked a rude question, but the smaller boy answered anyway. “She was born that way. We were hoping she’d have an operation to fix it, but . . .” He shook his head. “She’s called Turtle.” There was surely more to the story, but the boy sounded too tired to say more.

  Jupiter cleared his throat. “Why don’t you younger three and the baby all come with me to my cabin? The older folks will be a while over your injured man.”

  “Will he—be okay?” asked the bigger boy. “I’ll stay with him.” His English was musical and harder to understand than the shorter boy’s.