“Then what happened?”
“Haida Gwaii Watchmen started. We’re here to protect the natural, historical, cultural heritage. All together.”
“Wow, Caleb. That’s a great story. Good environmental news for a change.”
Caleb sat tall and his dark eyes shone. “Sure is.” He waved a hand at the ocean. “Right here, lucky thing happened a couple years ago. There could’ve been a big spill when a Russian ship lost power in rough water not far offshore. If she broke up, diesel fuel would’ve covered these beaches.” He spread out his arms.
“Like the Exxon Valdez,” Ted said. “Oil still seeps out of sediment into Alaskan waters.”
“Yeah, like that. We got lucky. The Russian ship got towed to safer waters.”
My butt was going numb. I shifted position. “Did that make people more aware of what might happen with the tar sands?”
“You bet. Just last week we had a rally in Masset. We’re calling for oil-free coastlines on the mainland, out here, too. Tar sands mean tankers by the hundreds hauling the stuff down the north coast.”
The rap Anna had sung was about the massive tar sands project—huge deposits of tar-like bitumen. The shallow tar sand mines looked like giant black bomb craters.
I pictured William urging Anna to sing her song for us. They seemed like such good friends, and now she was alone. I wondered if William had a brother or sister who might comfort Anna but knew nothing about his family.
Caleb,” I asked, “Did William have any siblings? You know, someone who might take Anna under their wing?”
He pulled one of his impressively large earlobes. “Um, let me think. Okay, I remember. William talked about an older brother name of Robert, Richard, something like that. They were really different and didn’t get along. Robert, whatever, made lots of money in banking I think it was. Said William was a loser for being a Watchman. You get the idea.”
I nodded. It was amazing how unlike siblings could be. William’s brother sure didn’t seem like the type to befriend Anna.
I had a final question for Caleb, an important one. “Caleb, I’d like to ask you about the iron project.”
He eyed me, then nodded.
“I heard the Haida were excited to be leaders in reducing carbon from the atmosphere. Did Roger Grant explain that? I mean, how it would work?”
He looked at the ocean and squinted. “Let me think. Um, Mr. Grant said carbon’d be traded for like, you know, wheat, corn, all that.”
Carbon trading on the stock exchange. The inkling that this was important slipped through my mind and was gone in an instant. I’d have to read more about it when I got back.
Caleb glanced at the sun. “Time to go.”
The tide was on its way up. Caleb waded out to bring the Spirit of Tanu closer in. He climbed aboard, pulled up the anchor line, and let the boat drift shoreward. Ted held out a hand to help Harvey and me step onto the transom shelf.
Caleb opened the throttle on the way back. Even in the cabin, we had to yell to be heard.
“This is a great boat,” Ted said. “You do a good business with fishing charters?”
“Some of the best saltwater fishing in the world out here. My people get salmon fifty pounds and more. Big halibut, too.”
“So it’s good money?”
We slammed into bigger waves, and I nearly ended up on my ass. Caleb slowed down. I stationed myself more firmly against the cabin’s bulkhead next to the wheel.
“Money? It’s good during season, but that’s short. I got a wife, kids, a house, all that. Living out here’s not cheap.”
“Can you do the charters and be a Watchman at the same time?” I asked.
“Gene’s good there. I’m Watchman full-time half a year.”
I was curious about Caleb’s relationship with Gene, and Caleb had just provided a good lead-in for a question. I kept it vague. “Um, you guys good friends?”
“Not sure Gene’s good friends with anyone. He’s kind of secretive if you know what I mean.”
Gene didn’t strike me as secretive, but I kept that to myself. I moved closer so I didn’t have to yell quite so loudly. “Caleb, just wondering. What’s your take on William dying and the pool drying up?”
He gripped the wheel and his face muscles tightened like he’d clenched his jaw. He was quiet so long I thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“Don’t have an opinion on that.”
Caleb dropped us off at the Kinuk dock and thanked us for our help. I watched him speed away in the Spirit of Tanu. Out in his boat doing important environmental work, Caleb was in his element and completely different from the angry man we’d seen earlier. People were complicated, and I had to be careful about rash judgments. That seemed to be a hard lesson for me.
18
Partway down the pier, I stopped to look out over the bay. From up high, Kinuk’s new scars weren’t visible—just the expanse of blue-green sea and mountains in the background. Haida Gwaii was a world-renowned tourist destination, and visitors saw only the beauty. Given the stunning land and seascape, that was understandable. But our work here, including what Gene called “the ecology disaster excursion,” showed us the inevitable impacts of human exploitation on an ecological jewel fifty miles off the coast of British Columbia.
Harvey and Ted were halfway up the trail to the bathhouse complex when I caught up to them.
“You going to the longhouse?”
“Thought we’d find out the deal for dinner first,” Harvey said.
At the junction of the main path and the one leading down to the pools, we saw Gene walking toward us. He moved slowly, head down and shoulders slouched, like an old man. I guessed he’d visited the pool where William died.
He saw us, straightened up, and quickened his steps. “How’d it go?”
I said, “Like you said, it was really interesting. Depressing, too, of course. And Caleb was a completely different person out there.”
“He’s passionate about the environment. If you’re on the other side of him, though, watch out. Guess passion goes both ways.” Gene looked west. “It’s six or so. You folks hungry?”
“Caleb took good care of our stomachs,” Ted said. “We can wait. Whatever’s best for you.”
“How ‘bout in an hour. We’ll have something simple.”
In the longhouse, we took advantage of daylight to organize our stuff and pack. We dumped out our duffle bags and made piles of dirty clothes, clean ones we’d wear the next day, toiletries, and gear we wouldn’t need. That done, we sat on the steps in the middle of the big empty space. The bold back mural appeared bluish gray and muddy in the waning light.
“What struck you most about today?” I asked.
Harvey curled a lock of blond hair behind her ear. For the trip home she’d changed into black fleece pants, a red turtleneck, and a spanking clean red fleece pullover. “What we learned from Caleb. The environmental history. Especially the protest against the lumber company.”
“Can’t you just picture three stately Haida in those gorgeous black and red robes standing there, refusing to move?”
Ted leaned back on his long arms. “You know, the Penobscot Nation in Maine organized and just won a big battle.”
“Really?” I said.
“The EPA sided with the Penobscot and ordered the governor to improve water quality to protect fishing on the reservation. Given the Nation’s sentiment about the governor, they must’ve loved that.”
Beyond what I’d learned in grade school and read in the news, I knew little about Maine’s Native Americans, including their environmental struggles and victories. “I’ve lived in Maine my whole life and you’ve been there, what, four months? It sounds like you know a lot about this.”
Harvey rolled her eyes. “Mara, Ted and I invited you to go with us to an open meeting, but you said you had too much work. Don’t you remember?”
Work always came first for me. “Oh, yeah.” To change the subject I added, “Don’t know if you hear
d me, but I asked Caleb what he thought about William’s death. He wouldn’t say a thing. Do you think that’s kind of odd?”
Harvey got to her feet. “Not sure what to make of that. We better head down. Maybe we can help Gene.”
We pulled the kitchen door open. The room smelled of hot oil. I was startled to see Lynne at the stove. As far as I knew, she hadn’t been on the island since the night William died.
Gene sliced fish on a wooden cutting board. He used a foot-long knife with a thin blade that curved up. It looked like a small version of an ancient Chinese fighting sword.
I stood next to him. “ What’s that?”
“Halibut.” He turned toward Lynne. “I’m just about done here. Let’s eat out on the picnic table. Why don’t you carry out the plates and silverware?”
Lynne walked by without acknowledging Harvey or me.
I leaned in. “Gene, that’s a nasty-looking knife. I’ve never seen one like it.”
“Coho fillet knife. Cuts through flesh like butter.”
I shivered.
We sat down to eat.
I’d only taken a few bites when I had to ask. “Lynne. Haven’t seen you lately. Where’ve you been?”
“On the mainland.”
“Lynne helps out when Anna’s away or there’s a large group.” Gene asked about our day with Caleb.
“He told us about Gujaaw, the logging company protest, and some recent successes,” Ted said. “Really interesting.”
I glanced at Lynne. She paid no attention to us or what we had to say.
“What’s the difference between a person and a tree?” Gene asked.
Harvey shrugged. Ted shook his head.
Smirking, I said, “What?”
“One’s illegal to hit with an ax.”
We groaned.
“One more. What do you get when you cross an environmentalist with direct action?”
We waited.
“Arrested!”
Lynne got up and left.
Gene became serious. “What about native tribes in Maine? I’d bet they’re a force to be reckoned with. Was there a turning point for them like lumbering was for us?”
“I’m not sure,” Harvey said. “But I think it was about the right to unlimited fishing and hunting on the reservations.”
“And now,” Ted said, “native people in Maine are fighting against some fishing limits on species that really do need to be managed. It’s like their push for power has gone too far.”
Gene leaned forward. “What fish?”
“Eels. The money for baby eels—elvers—is astounding. What do you think they’re getting per pound?”
“A hundred dollars?” I guessed.
Ted motioned upward with his thumb and turned toward Harvey.
“Three hundred?”
Thumb up again.
It was Gene’s turn. “Five hundred?”
Ted shook his head. “A thousand dollars per pound and going up. I saw a photo of a sign that said fifteen hundred.”
Gene whistled. “Japanese market?”
“Yeah,” Ted said.
I was astonished. “I knew it was high, but that’s unbelievable. Huh. In the US people think of Native Americans as, you know, big time environmentalists. But many tribes desperately need money. That pits poverty against their environmental ethic.”
I opened my mouth again to say “Like with the Haida and the iron.” But with Gene right there, I changed my mind.
It was twilight by the time we’d finished the dishes. Lynne had disappeared. Gene said he’d see us at eight in the morning and left.
I turned to Harvey and Ted. “Up for a final walk by the water?”
Harvey shook her head. “Sorry. I’m bushed.”
Ted looked down at his feet. “Ah, me, too. Bushed.”
Down on the beach, I sat on the flat rock where Anna had said she and William were going be married. The evening show was well underway. A rose-lavender sky had turned the glassy bay a showy pink. But I felt unsettled, and even the bright colors didn’t lift my spirits.
Ted was a big reason for my disquiet. I was miffed he didn’t want to join me. Miffed and guilty. Maybe his patience was running out. If so, I couldn’t blame him. We’d been in the archipelago less than a week, but given my raw emotions, it felt a whole lot longer. Between disappointing Ted, the angst around the Haida’s iron controversy, the inexplicable visions, and, of course, William’s death, I was spent.
A voice startled me. “Mara.”
I jumped up and faced Lynne. Her face was taut.
“My goodness. You scared me.”
“I want to talk to you.” Hands on hips, her words spilled out. “Anna accused me of—of—poisoning William with plants she found in my room. She even said something to his parents. You know about this. Why are you involved? You’re not even Haida.”
I kept my voice calm. “Anna asked me to identify some plants. I tried to ID them and will pass the information along to Sergeant Knapton. He’s investigating William’s death.”
“Did it ever occur to you that Anna put the plants in my room?”
“Yes, it did. I intend to say so to Knapton. Of course, he’ll realize that as well.”
Lynne’s shoulders dropped. “Oh.”
“Were they your plants?”
The warrior was back. “No!”
“Hold on. Any idea how they got in your room?”
She shook her head.
“Who here knows about medicinal plants?”
“Charlotte’s had a couple of students. William, me, Anna. Others who aren’t around now.”
“Who knew the most?”
“William, besides Charlotte, of course. Nobody knows more than Charlotte.”
“One more question, Lynne. Why would anyone want William dead?”
She choked on the answer. “Nobody. William was special.” She spun around and left without saying good-bye.
I picked my way along the shingle before it got fully dark and wondered how Lynne found out I’d identified the plants. The Haida were probably a close community in the Vancouver area where William’s parents lived. Anna was in communication with them, so maybe Lynne learned about the plants from William’s mom and dad or a cousin. Something about that pricked at the far recesses of my brain.
“I’ll remember when I least expect it,” I said to myself.
At the bottom of our makeshift ramp up to the path, I took a last look at Kinuk Bay. On the horizon, lavender had turned to gray, and black strands interrupted the smooth surface of the water. Kelp. Beneath the still waters, sleek seals with human eyes flew through the sea forest.
I wanted to say one more farewell. Cross-legged at the edge of the empty pool, I stared at the spot where I’d last seen William. I closed my eyes and pictured him alive—laughing at his joke about smart ravens, telling us the salmon-boy story, and, of course, motoring up in his beat-up dinghy to save me. I didn’t believe William had died of natural causes, but had no proof. Just a possible identification of a possible plant that might have been used by a killer. Too many possibles and maybes.
I was in William’s debt. Doubly so, given his rescue of my closest friend in the sauna. I needed to figure out what had happened to him.
No. I would figure that out.
19
The Haida Gwaii airport was in Sandspit, a half-hour boat ride north of us on a good day. We were down on the Kinuk dock at eight a.m. In the distance, an inflatable motored toward us. Gene, right on time. How he looked at the roulette table flashed through my mind—the red face, snarl, and clenched fists. A very different Gene pulled up to the dock. We handed him our duffels and stepped into the inflatable.
Gene pointed to three sou’westers. “The trip up to Sandspit’s not that long, but it’s bumpy out there. Don’t want you to get soaked on your last boat ride through the islands.”
As he puttered away from the dock, I turned back for one last look. At the edge of the rainforest, the very tops of the
spruce vanguard glowed gold in the morning sun. Steam from the bathhouses vanished into a cloudless gray-blue sky. Kinuk village looked at peace.
But, of course, it wasn’t.
We quickly reached the end of the bay. Gene turned north, away from Augustine Island, Ninstints, and the cold, harsh Pacific beyond. We passed Rose Harbor, where seals carved watery paths through kelp forests that swayed with the incoming tide. I pictured the seal that had peered into my facemask, freed me from the kelp, and saved me. God damn it, the creature had been real. I couldn’t be honest and try to convince myself otherwise.
I told myself to relax and enjoy my last boat ride in Haida Gwaii. I’d talk to Angelo about the visions in Sandspit.
The inflatable bounced against the waves as Gene pointed out Burnaby, Lyell Island, and Skedans—exotic-sounding places I’d probably never see.
“Every centimeter of Burnaby Narrows is covered with the gaudiest sea critters you can imagine,” Gene said. “When there’s a full moon and the tide’s real low, you can walk across and pick them up. I found a day-glow orange snail with neon green fringe and bright pink antler-type things.”
Compared to that, my savior seal wasn’t so odd after all.
Gene went on. “In eighteen seventy-eight, George Dawson visited a village called Tanu when he worked for the Canadian Geographical Survey. He took a famous photograph showing village life—a totem pole carver, clothes drying in the wind, food boxes covered with cedar bark and neatly tied with cords for a sea voyage.”
“Wasn’t that right before the measles epidemic?” Harvey asked.
Gene’s face clouded. “It was. An anthropologist found a mass grave there. Now it’s a historic village—and home to black bear. I see more bear in Skedans than anywhere in Haida Gwaii. One even charged me when I was there.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Grabbed a piece of cedar and hit him on the muzzle as hard as I could. Bear took off, thank goodness. Their claws can rip a man apart in minutes.”
“I know a geologist who was banging on a big rock,” I said. “She didn’t know a black bear was on the other side. The bear ripped off both her arms.”
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