Time and tide

Perched in the fork of a mangrove tree, with the early morning sun merely a line highlighting the distant horizon, the urchin watched as the little boat was slowly coaxed to shore by the rolling waves. He had never seen one like it, it was tiny, and he was quite excited by this new thing that the sea had brought him. The most the great ocean ever gave up after tasty, juicy fish was driftwood and random pieces of flotsam that he had little use for. If he couldn’t eat it or make shelter with it, it was useless. Some of the useless things though, were colourful or shiny and he did like to put them around his shelter; he didn’t know why, he just liked it.

From his vantage, hidden from view by the foliage, he waited to see if this new thing was a threat. He was cautious of new things, others had come here before, wandering around his island yelling and searching through the scrub as if they had lost something. ‘What could they have lost?” He remembered thinking. There was only him, the monkeys and a few wild pigs inhabiting his home, and no one wants to find those pigs, they terrified him. The giants stayed for days and slept near the beach. He remembered creeping around them one night, he was attracted to the bright flickering light they had made near where they slept. He wanted to take it, he liked the light it created, and wanted it for his shelter; nights got very dark on his island. As he got closer to it, he felt its warmth and moved closer, closer and warmer, closer and warmer, until he could go no further, his safety instincts taking control, as the radiating heat stopped him.

Early, on the day they finally left, a group emerged from the scrub carrying what he knew were the remains of his father. They had found him in the ravine where he had stopped being his father. Every morning the boy woke to the terrible memory of the day his father fell in there, screaming in pain. For days, the helpless child kept vigil on the edge of the ditch listening to his father’s groans, waiting for him to climb back out. In time the man who built their hidden shelter, who showed the small boy where to forage, and to watch what the monkeys did, stopped groaning, stopped moving and eventually stopped answering his son’s pleas. When the rats came, the boy left and never returned to that place. It had been a long time since then and the boy survived, but the thing his father would repeat every day, before that most terrible of days, was avoid the pigs and hide from people. The boy had no concept of any place other than his home, and when these giant people landed on his beach, he could not understand where they could have come from, that there were others similar to himself and his father.

Since the day the giants left, the boy had endured many storms, many near misses, many long boring hot days, when he lacked the energy to move. He continued improving his skills. He watched the monkeys find food and only ate what they ate. His father had shown him how to catch fish with a spear, and with the abundance of sea life around his island, he never went hungry.

He had kept vigil in his tree so long that his legs were going numb, and as there had been no movement from the boat, he decided it was safe to investigate. Staying low as he approached the gently rocking vessel, he peered over the side. His eyes grew wide with horror as he took in what was in the bottom of the boat. A body lay there, mostly covered in what remained of a sail, a single foot protruding from underneath. His mind raced. His instincts told him he should run back to cover. He considered for a very brief moment, that he could push the craft back out past the breakers, but his curiosity had won, and he needed to know what was under the cover.

Standing slowly, he cast his eyes over the scene before him. A jagged stick rose from the centre of the boat where a mast had snapped and there was a lot of water in the bottom; clearly it had survived a terrible storm, but only just. Carefully he reached over into the boat and began pulling the canvas back. A thick mess of dark hair hid the face of an adult human. It lay on its side clutching a cloth bundle. The boy stood amazed, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. He didn’t know why, but he was drawn to touch their skin, skin much darker than his own. He cautiously reached down and gently gripped the exposed arm.

In an instant he was bleeding from a wound to his own arm. He had thought them unconscious or even dead, but they had been waiting to strike and had spun around too quickly for him to react, their knife slicing across his forearm. He ran for the tree line, clutching his arm but not looking back. He knew in time he would have to clean and wrap his wound, but now from the safety of cover he stopped and looked back to see what emerged from the boat. Slowly a head rose from inside the craft, and he could make out their eyes, desperately scanning for him. Cautiously they rose from their hiding place and on unsteady legs, stepped onto the sand, collapsing almost instantly.

Much like when his last invaders came, the boy assessed this person. It was not as big as the others; except for a few, they were like giants in his eyes, and he knew they were a threat. This one was different, its frame was not as imposing and it was shaped differently and while the clothes on the giants were wrapped closely around their legs, this one’s flowed open at the bottom, easily moving in the breeze that blew onshore.

***

Crunching the damp sand in her hands, the woman silently prayed thanks to her god for safe deliverance. The small dagger she had used to ward off her most recent of threats, lay beside her, staining the sand with fresh blood. Although weak from hunger and thirst, she gradually found strength enough to stand, her legs still shaky. The woman felt every one of her thirty two years of existence, and then some. These past few days had been horrendous. From the time she and her friends left their home for safety, the only survivors of a devastating storm, in a boat not designed for open water, to come to this place, which seemed to exist outside of the real world. She was aware of the existence of a least one person and scanned the immediate area to the trees, for a hint of where they fled to. She knew they were there, watching her, though seeing the footprints left behind, she knew they were no more than a child. The woman now regretted her use of a knife as her first greeting, but her life to now had made her wary and ready to strike.

His wound ached and though it was no more than a scratch, dripping blood splashed near his foot. Soon ants would come and he would have to move, but for now he watched as this swaying creature searched for him. He was in no rush to give away his position. After a moment, they turned and bent over deep into the bottom of the boat, then standing upright again began slowly and laboriously, dragging driftwood to the little boat, propping them against the sides. Then they lashed the sail around the new structure, forming a shelter, preparing for the inevitable heat of the new day. He waited as they climbed back in. Silently and carefully, he made his way over, back toward the place where he had just barely escaped. As he got closer, he could see in the shade of the sail the person peel the clothing from their shoulders, exposing their chest, then, picking up the cloth bundle from the floor, unwrapped it a little and pressed it to their exposed skin

***

While scanning the trees for the boy and anyone else who might be with him, she remembered the parcel she had left wrapped in the boat. Reaching deep into the hull, she unwrapped the cloth a little and carefully inspected the precious contents. Satisfied that it was safe, she set about creating a shelter of the beached boat. Painstakingly the weary woman dragged long sea weathered branches from the high tide mark and creating a tent like structure covered it with the tattered sailcloth. She removed the bung from the transom to allow the water to drain with the outgoing tide, then sat down, exposed her breast, and retrieved the bundle from the floor. She worried as she brought her little girl to her that she wouldn’t have anything for her drink, she had gone so long without water and nourishment herself, but her little girl began suckling and the mother’s body gave what it had.

While taking in the beauty of her daughter, she became aware of a presence nearby and without looking up addressed them. “If you are here to harm us, then make it quick, I have little energy for a fight, but know this, I will not leave my baby for you to harm.”

The boy froze. He thought he had been stealthy, he was well practiced shadowing the monkeys, but this intruder knew he was there well before he got near them. There was another difference too; their voice wasn’t the same as the rough gravelly voices of the giants who visited last time, or even that of his father. He didn’t know what they said to him, but he found their tone comforting.

The woman turned her head to finally get a full picture of her little islander. He was no more than ten years old, his skin was deeply tanned, but his hair was blonde. Clearly, he was not a native of these parts. She wondered where he’d come from. “Hello boy. Do you have some water? I am very thirsty.”

The boy listened to what the woman had to say, and while he didn’t understand the words she spoke, he understood the action she made with her hand. Without acknowledging her, he turned and sprinted back to the trees. The woman sighed, thinking she had scared him off and wouldn’t return, then a panic filled her chest as she began to worry that he may return with others; after her recent ordeal, she trusted no one.

Soon the boy returned with an array of unusual things he carefully carried on a piece of weathered board which was once obviously part of a boat. He set it down on the sand and handed her an old leather boot, leaking water. Hurriedly she tied the swaddling cloth the baby was wrapped in around her upper body, securing her suckling child and greedily accepted the water, losing quite a bit over herself and her baby. Next, he handed her a large seashell full of berries, with a banana sticking out of it.

Stepping back, he watched as the woman devoured his gift of food, glancing up at him occasionally to nod her thanks. Though he could no longer see it, his eyes were fixed on the baby tethered to its mother. Wiping her mouth as she finished her bounty, she finally looked at the boy and realised what he was looking at. “Would you like to see Carla?” she said gesturing to her baby. Slowly he nodded yes and the woman carefully untied the cloth and removed the feeding baby. Little Carla let out a cry that startled the boy, causing him to flinch and step back, but the woman brought the baby up to her shoulder and began patting it softly on her back. “It’s ok, she is still a little hungry. My name is Ana. What is yours?” The baby soon quietened, and the boy crept closer, until he was touching the gunwale of the boat.

It was a tiny person, and he now realised the woman was feeding it, just as the monkeys did with their little ones. He found himself staring at her now visible breast; it was a strange thing for him to see. The woman noticed and felt unexpectedly vulnerable and instinctively covered herself. She scolded herself for being ridiculous as he was just a boy, surely he had seen his own mothers’ breasts. His eyes rose to hers and then to the baby, then he spoke. “Who are you? Where did you come from?” Then looking intently at the woman before him, he said. “My father described my mother, just like you.” Ana was perplexed, he spoke in a language that she had heard, many years before, though she understood very little.

Baby in hand, Ana climbed out of the boat and stood staring at the young boy. ‘Surely he could not have survived here alone.’ She thought. ‘There must be someone else here.’ Ana tried to communicate her next question with her hands. Pointing to her baby she said, “Carla.” Then putting her open hand on her chest, she said, “Ana.” Then pointing to the boy, she asked, “Your name?” The boy thought hard, trying to understand, then the realisation came. Pointing to himself he said one word, “Robert.” Then without warning the boy ran to her and embraced her. Ana was caught unprepared and almost fell backward with the force, but recovered her balance and happily returned the embrace with the warmth of a mother.

Robert stepped back and excitedly began speaking, “Come quickly, I will show you my home. There is more food and water.” He grabbed her hand and began dragging mother and child up toward the tree line. Ana thought she only understood two of the words he spoke, water and home. She followed readily, still fearful that there were others here, but then stooped abruptly, breaking free of the young boy and turned back to the beach. Robert watched the woman enter the water and unwrap the child and carefully wash the baby and the cloth it was wrapped in. When she was satisfied with the result, she called Robert to her and passed the baby to him while she wrung out the cloth. Robert reluctantly took the naked child, and after his initial resistance, found the touch of the baby’s soft skin on his own salt crusted, sun tanned skin to be very pleasant.

Ablutions addressed; they continued back the way they began. Moving through the trees which grew ever more densely packed, eventually coming to a jungle-like grove which obstructed their progress. The boy released her hand and leapt across the small channel that divided the trees from the jungle. It was obviously a water course during heavy rain but created a natural separation between them. While the mother carefully stepped across, she looked away momentarily, but when she looked up again, the boy had disappeared. Searching along the wall of vegetation, she called out to him, and he instantly popped his head through the thick growth. “Come,” he said, gesturing for her to follow. She did, and after pushing through giant ferns and palms, they finally came to a huge clearing, which made a hole through the soaring canopy and allowed abundant light into the area. There in the centre, was a ramshackle shelter made from all sorts of bric-a-brac. Parts of a boat, pieces of driftwood, old, tattered canvas. Robert showed her in through the fishnet curtain and inside there were two sleeping cots, lanterns with no wicks and in one corner sat a large travel chest.

Robert silently ushered the mother and child to a cot and went to the chest. He removed more berries and bananas, a coconut, a skin of water and some dried fish. Ana was amazed but was certain such a young boy could not do this on his own. She accepted the food and they both sat quietly eating, while little Carla latched on to her mother once more.

Ana watched the boy’s face, which was once again transfixed on the feeding baby. “Where is your mother?” Robert stopped chewing and considered her question but shrugged his shoulders and kept eating. Ana then gestured to Carla then herself once more, “Baby, Mother.” Then pointed to the boy. Robert stopped again. The first word sounded familiar, his father had explained baby monkeys but the second word he was sure meant mother. Robert became pensive and looked down from Ana’s gaze, he was sure he knew what she asked, but was unsure if he could answer her question.

Robert ate slowly, waiting for Ana and Carla to finish their feasts. Ana finally did and while Robert put away what he could use again, she adjusted her dress and rewrapped the baby in the now mostly dry cloth.

Robert went to the door and motioned for Ana to follow. They went back into the jungle but this time in a different direction. It took only a short time to reach another opening in the dense foliage. He took her along a small ridge that ran past a deep ravine, Ana found it precarious and cautiously made her way forward, while Robert skipped across the rocky ridge like a cat. At the end of the ravine, they turned down a shallow gradient to a wide flat piece of ground with a large tree on the far side. Robert led them toward the tree and as they approached, Ana saw a mound of rocks, with a tree branch jutting from it at one end.

The closer they got, the slower Robert walked, eventually he stopped as the shadow of the tree touched his feet. As Ana neared the mound, she could make out a name scratched into the branch, it read ‘Alba’. Clutching her baby, Ana slowly faded to the ground and began sobbing. She knew who was buried here and the horrifying story of her own journey flashed through her mind.

A huge ship, came to her coastal town when she was young, its giant white sails straining in the wind, enormous guns protruding from the sides. The men who came were tall and broad and, except where the sun had touch it, their skin was pale as salt; she recalled they spoke loudly. They made demands of food and water for their continued journey and promised no harm if they got what they needed. They did not strictly stick to their bargain.

The ship was docked for no more than 3 days and in that short time, the visitors caused all kinds of chaos, especially when they were introduced to the local fermented drink. Many families sent their wives and daughters into the hills when the men began harassing them. The local men desperately tried to keep some order, but by the time they departed, the people of the town were changed, and at least one was missing, her cousin.

The village leader’s youngest daughter fell in love with one of the sailors and stowed away on the ship the day it departed. Ana’s own cousin. The night she left, the cousin came to Ana and revealed her plan and begged Ana not to say anything.

For a week the town was in uproar as the village men searched for the teenage girl. Then the cousin came to Ana one night with the man she ran away with. She had been cast off the ship. The captain was angry at the discovery of the girl and set her adrift in a small boat, her lover dove in after her. Before the huge ship could come about, they had made landfall, smashing their little boat on rocks. They came to take a fishing boat from the harbour and sail away.

The day after they escaped again, the ship came to port once more. When the captain came to shore, he brought the biggest among his crew and threatened to burn the village to the ground if they didn’t give up the sailor. After explaining that a boat had been stolen and desperately pleading with the captain that he was mourning the loss of his youngest daughter, the captain relented, but on leaving he vowed that if he found them, her life was in peril.

Ana kept her secret and though she missed her cousin, she hated her foolishness for putting her townspeople in danger. Ana sighed as she looked up at the grave. Could her cousin have known what was to come?

The following years saw much change to her village as more and more outsiders came. First it was good, there was trade and prosperity for the fisherman and the farmers alike; the town grew, but each year it grew worse as the newcomers revealed there true intentions. Soon farms were turned into mines which the local people were forced to work. The fishing boats were replaced by huge ships that took what was ripped from the ground. Disorder ruled and no one was safe, then religion came with its heavy hand, to convert the savages.

After her husband died in a landfall at the mine, she realised it was time to find safety for her new baby. A boat was secured, and a small group of mainly women and children slipped away in the night for a better place. Ana and her child were the only survivors after the terrible storm; a horror she would relive for a long time to come. Finding themselves washed up on a remote isolated island, she first thought it may be a sad end to her escape, but finding young Robert here, who had survived for no one knows how long on his own, she thought perhaps her god had been listening after all.

Taking a deep breathe, Ana called the boy to her. Robert came and knelt beside them, and Ana put her arm around him and began to speak. “Robert, I think the gods are playing tricks with us. We were meant to find you and maybe you were left here to save us. You are a clever boy and in time you can teach little Carla, all you know. When we learn to understand each other, I will tell you all about your mother. We were best friends growing up, I hated that she left me behind, but I missed her so much.”

Robert watched as the words left her lips and when she finished, he spoke. “I am so happy you got lost here like me. I was so scared to be alone and when Pa left me, I wanted to die too. Now my home is full.”

Ana understood the word home, and for the first time in a long time, she felt this could be possible.