“Hi,” I reply. “Why are you up so early after the revel?”
“I didn’t attend the revel. Abigail told me what happened last night. I was worried about you. You weren’t at home so I figured I might find you both here.” She puts her arm around me and I lean in to her for a moment. She has been a second mother to Rich and me.
“Here, I bought you bread and some blackberry jam.” Rich and I take the food gratefully. Abigail’s mother watches us both. Her face is creased with concern. “You need to be careful, Chris. What happened last night could be very dangerous for you and the young lady you were with.”
“What do you mean?” asks Rich.
“Chris should not be questioning the elders. The things he said weren’t safe. There are some things we just need to accept as part of life on the island. We live under constant threat from the mainland. Things here are peaceful. It’s the price we pay.”
“What should I do now?” I ask her.
“Keep your head down. You need to be careful and please don’t escalate this any further. Bad things will happen if you pursue this.”
I’m not sure what to say in reply. After a few moments of intense silence, I say: “Thank you for warning us. We will be careful.”
My head hurts but I want to search for Delphine. We say goodbye to Abigail’s mother and we decide to go to the lighthouse. Rich walks silently beside me. He is solemn and deep in thought as we follow a graveled path along the cliff edge. Feather grass sways in the breeze on one side of the path, and on the other side the multi-colored cliff plunges dramatically down to the surging sea.
I’m looking for the Harbormaster’s Cottage. It is a small residence built beneath the last remaining lighthouse on Martha’s Vineyard, the West Chop Light. I remember Delphine telling me last night she lives there. I’ve never been inside the Harbormaster’s Cottage but we all know the lighthouse. It is as white as a shadbush flower and stands tall against the deep blue of the sky and sea. Each day at dusk, the Harbormaster—Delphine or her family, I assume—lights a signal fire for the fishermen returning from a day at sea.
“So Delphine believes that the Great Floods will come again. She believes we will be without protection?” asks Rich. We’ve been through this already but Rich liked to turn things over in his mind a few times.
“That’s right,” I say. “She’s been keeping records of the tides and weather and she believes the Great Floods were caused by melting ice and that it could happen again. She doesn’t accept the sacrifice will keep us safe.” I see Rich frown and we walk on, both deep in our own thoughts. I know Abigail’s mother’s words are on his mind.
The West Chop Light comes into view, a solid stone reminder of a time almost forgotten. It is one of the few remaining buildings on Martha’s Vineyard that survived the floods and the ravages that followed. For hundreds of years it has watched over the harbor and provided a beacon for our fishermen making their way home. A small wooden house has been erected in the lighthouse’s shadow. It is here I hope I will find Delphine.
I knock on the door once and then remember that she can’t hear my knock. But before I can figure out how to let her know we are at the door, we hear muffled barking and the door swings open. Delphine looks out at us and between her legs a black furry face sniffs the air. For a moment I forget the revel and the floods and my father. I want to kiss her. We smile at each other until Rich shuffles behind me. Delphine looks at him and raises her eyebrows at me inquisitively.
“He’s my brother,” I say. She smiles and lets us in. The dog sniffs us both appreciatively and thrusts his wet nose and grey muzzle between my legs. I scratch his ear and tell Delphine how handsome he is. She lets me know his name is Max.
Delphine leads us to her modest living room while she prepares tea. The house is immaculately clean, and every wall is lined with shelves filled to bursting with neatly stacked leather bound journals. I pull one off a shelf at random. It contains long lists of dates and times and numbers in several columns. The page I’m looking at is dated 15 January 2316, which is over eighty years before I was born.
Delphine comes into the room and hands me a mug of hot, sweet tea. Rich thanks her when she hands him a mug and I notice him appraising her. When she turns away he catches my eye, smiles briefly and winks at me. In the daylight, Delphine is even more beautiful.
Delphine pulls a large sheet of paper from a desk in the corner and pins it on the wall. She writes: This will be easier than writing in my notepad. It will be more like a discussion—you can both read my words at the same time.
It takes some getting used to, but we soon fall into a rhythm. Rich and I take turns asking questions and we wait while Delphine writes her answers, or poses new questions, on the sheet she has pinned up. Rich becomes more agitated as our conversation goes on. He grimaces as he reads Delphine’s words.
You can see I have records for the tides and temperatures dating back hundreds of years. There has been little rise in sea level for one hundred years but the average temperature is continuing to increase, as well as the frequency of the intense weather events. How many hurricanes have we had in the last two years? Things are getting worse and this scares me.
“I can’t see the connection between sea level and temperature,” says Rich.
There is ice held at the polar ice caps, which are two cold areas at either end of the planet. Melting of this ice caused the Great Floods.
“How can you know that?” Rich asks her.
I have something to show you. Please, you must tell no one I have this. We have kept it secret for generations. It’s a scientific journal from the original harbormaster, from around the time of the Great Floods.
Delphine holds out a stained and faded cloth-bound book. I’ve never held such a book. Books are uncommon on the island. But a book from before the Great Floods is unheard of. I take it from Delphine and it smells of dust and things long forgotten. I read the faded, feathery handwriting at the paragraph she has indicated to. Rich takes the book from me before I finish and the dog lets out a low growl. Delphine is tense as she watches Rich read aloud from the book.
“Average temperatures have increased over two degrees globally. We’ve done it; we crossed the line we said we should never cross. The unthinkable collapse of the planet’s ice sheets at the polar caps has begun. I pray for mercy, because the planet will not be kind to us. I am fearful of the flooding, the rolling storms of fire, the hurricanes and the terrible heat itself. The ecological drama will continue to play out over many millennia to come.”
Rich places the book on the table and stares at us both, his deep brown eyes burning. The dog growls again and Delphine places her hand on his head. “I’m sorry Delphine,” continues Rich with a hard edge to his voice. “But this old book proves nothing. You sound like an alarmist, making problems where there are none.” Rich shoots me a look I can’t interpret.
According to this book, if the polar ice sheets melted, sea levels around the world would rise approximately seventy meters. The waters only rose on average three meters during the Great Floods. The harbormaster writes of flooding across cities we’ve never heard of. He mentions droughts and heat waves and hurricanes that were all caused by temperature rises. And the temperature increases have continued. Even if only a small portion of the remaining ice has melted, there would be another catastrophe.
“What the heck is a meter?” asks Rich.
“It’s approximately two cubits,” I reply. “It’s how they used to measure things before the Great Floods.”
Delphine beams at me, and Rich raises his eyebrows before letting out a slow sigh. “Let’s assume you are right, and I’m not saying you are, but let’s assume you are right and the Great Floods were caused by melting ice. What makes you suspect the water will rise again?” asks Rich. “What about the sacrifice?”
He is struggling with the argument Delphine has made. I am struggling too. The Book tells us that the Great Floods happened as a punishment for our ancestors’
excesses. There was no mention of melting ice.
Rich doesn’t wait for Delphine to answer and turns to me. “Chris, none of this adds up. None of what she is saying makes any sense. We know that the floods occurred to correct the wrongs of the past. The Book tells us how to stay safe.” Rich mutters something to himself that I don’t catch and he looks up, touching his hand to his forehead.
Please trust me. As well as keeping records of the tides, I also monitor the weather. My family has done this for generations. As I said, the average temperatures are continuing to increase, but there has been little corresponding increase to the sea level this last century. In fact, the average sea level has risen less than half a meter, or one cubit!
“Did it occur to you that maybe all the ice has already melted, and that is why there is no sea level rise?” asks Rich, looking out of the window of the small home. I can tell he is deliberately avoiding eye contact with Delphine.
It’s not possible. The island would have been completely submerged already.
I’ve read that book cover to cover and I’ve considered this for years.
I can sense Delphine’s desperation. “Tell us more about your ideas,” I say. Delphine smiles briefly and gratefully and then continues writing.
You would expect a sea level rise of a further two to three meters to correspond with the last century of temperature increases. As I mentioned before, this has not happened. There are high-altitude glacial lakes around the world. As the ice has melted, it may have pooled in valleys and formed mega-lakes. If the water in the lakes reach a critical mass, the loose and unsteady sediment holding them back could burst, releasing all the water contained inside.
I watch Delphine as she writes. She is frantic now, scrawling the words quickly and stopping to chew angrily on her thumbnail between sentences. She turns and gives me a look, asking me to trust her.
“How much water could be in those glacial lakes? Surely it’s not enough to impact the sea levels to any great extent,” says Rich. He seems interested despite himself.
You’re probably right. But don’t forget Greenland. Given the temperature rises, it is likely most of the Greenland ice has already melted. If the melted ice is trapped somewhere, it could breach whatever is holding it back, releasing so much water that the floods start again with no warning.
“But what about the sacrifice—”
“I think I hear someone,” I say. I walk to the window and peer out. I can’t see anything suspicious.
“Is there anyone there?” asks Rich.
I shake my head. “I’ll just check the front door.” I open the door a crack. There is no one there so I open the door wider. Rich follows me and we hurry around the perimeter of the small cottage but don’t see anyone.
Back inside, Rich posts himself by the window. “I feel like we are being watched,” he says by way of explanation.
Delphine starts to write again.
You asked about the sacrifice. I understand you expect it will keep us safe. But trust me. What I’m telling you is science and fact. That the sacrifice could keep us safe is mere fantasy.
“Why should we trust you?” asks my brother. I’m surprised by his directness but Delphine smiles.
It’s not just my theory. The book you read from, it refers to many other books and papers with evidence for what I’m saying to you.
“Where are these books, these papers? Show them to us,” says Rich.
I don’t have them.
“Come on Chris, this is crazy. She’s a crazy alarmist,” says Rich as he laughs and shakes his head.
Please. We can find the other books. We can go to the mainland. I can prove to you that everything I’m saying is correct.
Delphine looks more desperate now and I say with a rush: “Yes, we can go to the mainland. We’ll find the evidence and bring it back to show the elders.” I can barely believe the words I’m saying. But something inside me becomes reckless and crazy when I’m with Delphine. I give Rich a defiant stare. “We are duty bound to protect the island and the community.”
Yes Chris, exactly! If we come back with proof, then everyone will accept what we are saying and they will know that I am right.
“Where on the mainland will you go? How will you survive? Do you realize how foolish this is?” Rich is shaking his head anxiously.
I have a plan.
As we discuss the plan it feels as though I’ve fallen down the side of a steep dune and every time I make a move to pull myself to the top, the sand beneath my feet gives way again. Delphine breaks to make more tea. I stroke Max the dog while Rich and I go backwards and forwards over the folly of Delphine’s suggestion. I can tell he thinks I’ve gone mad. Maybe I have.
Delphine passes around the tea and tells us she has an aunt and uncle who live on the mainland. She hasn’t spoken to them since they left Martha’s Vineyard five years ago, after both her parents had already died. I ask her why she didn’t go with them, and she says she couldn’t leave Martha’s Vineyard. Someone has to keep the records, she writes. I am overwhelmingly sad for her, and I am sure without a doubt I will follow her to the mainland regardless of how futile our search for evidence may be.
“Rich, can you take us to the mainland on your boat?”
“It will never work. Please don’t ask me this.”
“That’s fine. We can just take a boat ourselves.”
“Stealing a boat would be an unforgiveable transgression,” he says.
“I don’t care,” I reply.
It isn’t fair of me to force his hand like this. When he reluctantly agrees I feel a painful stab of guilt. He is my brother, my other half; we hold each other up and always have. Now I am barreling us both towards something dangerous.
“If you are really doing this, we need to leave soon—before the elders come looking for you both,” says Rich.
We bid Delphine a hasty farewell and we begin the walk home. When we reach the village, it is quiet. I glance at our parents’ home but there’s no sign of them, thankfully. “I’m sorry, Rich,” I say quietly. “Thank you for supporting me.”
He gives me the same rueful smile I’ve seen a thousand times before. “If I end up in the pit, you owe me,” he says, as he pushes his hair out of his eyes. We can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
We eat a quick, melancholy meal, and then I pack a few belongings into a rucksack: some bread and cheese, my compass, a waterproof coat made from reclaimed plastic, and my medical kit. In the kit I have bandages, needle and thread for stitching wounds, and some healing balm my mother prepares from honey, calendula and tea tree oil. The balm is useful in treating minor injuries.
On the island we all learn a skill from a young age. The elders expect everyone to contribute to the island community. Rich has been learning the fishing trade from our father and I have been learning the secrets of healing from our mother, who gave me my medical kit many years ago. I also take a short-bladed knife and my shotgun from the kitchen as we leave.
We are on the path for the harbor shortly afterwards. We see a handful of children running through the fields but no one has yet emerged after the revel. My rucksack weighs heavily on my shoulder and nervousness is rising in my gut. Delphine is meeting us at Rich’s fishing boat and I hope we all make it there without being seen.
Rich is meant to stay in the waters around Martha’s Vineyard but it’s early and if the winds are good, he can drop us off and return before nightfall. “When you get back, remember not to tell anyone where we are except for Abigail,” I say to Rich. The three of us have been inseparable our whole lives. It would never occur to me to keep something like this from Abigail.
“The elders will never believe me when I say you’ve gone for a pilgrimage in the forest.”
“It’s the only cover story we’ve got. You know it’s forbidden for any of us to go to the mainland.”
“Yeah, but you ordinarily need their consent before you take a pilgrimage, and you will be gone for two week
s. A pilgrimage normally takes a week maximum.”
“We’ve been over this Rich. I don’t have any other choice.”
“You could stay, let Delphine go by herself.”
“Would you do that?” I ask, stopping to look at him. “Would you stand by while she travels to the mainland by herself?”
“Chris. I really don’t think you should go. Please, brother?” Rich’s words are heavy with emotion.
I hug him briefly, feeling his broad shoulders above my own. “I love you, brother,” I whisper. I force my mouth into a grin. “If the elders question you about where I am, just tell them I’m reflecting on disturbing the revel, and that I need some time to focus inwards and contemplate The Book. It will be fine.”
I try to laugh but the noise catches in my throat and I stifle the sound with a cough. Rich looks at me quizzically but doesn’t press me.
We finally reach the harbor, and there is Delphine waiting by one of the small rowboats we use to paddle out to the anchored fishing boats. She greets us with a dazzling smile. I have that sinking, falling sensation again as I load up my gear and climb into the rowboat. We are rocking gently side to side in the shallows, all three of us knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder in the small boat. I take the oars and row us steadily away from the island.
I’m reasonably proficient at sailing but Rich is the true sailor in the family. He has an innate ability to read the tides and the weather and he always knows where to find the fish. Once we are aboard his fishing boat, he pulls up the anchor and expertly hauls up the mainsail and the jib and then we are off, pushed towards the mainland by a strong wind.
Delphine hands me her notepad: Have either of you been to the mainland before? I read out loud for Rich’s benefit.
“No,” I reply, “how about you?”
No, never. I daren’t go but I’ve always wanted to. Why do you think they forbid it?
“It’s too dangerous,” chimes in Rich. “They want to protect us. Father told me once we have an agreement with some gang traders who come to the island. They offer protection from the gangs, provided we stay on the island and continue to supply them with poppy seed pods.”
Greenhouse Page 3
