The Plover: A Novel (32 page)

*   *   *

Taromauri can smell the islands now, full in the face—a rich redolent soiled muddy seething flowering sort of
orange
smell, she says. Smells have colors? asks Danilo. O yes, she says. Don’t they for you? They do for me. My daughter had a gray-green smell. My husband for some reason has a brilliant yellow smell, almost golden but not quite. Pipa smells white with hints of green and blue. The minister agrees wholly with this line of talk. O yes, he says, I concur with the lady. I knew a man who had the deepest black smell. You would think this intimated evilry or criminosity on his part but this was not at all true and he was the most calm gentle generous man you ever met. Lovely man. By skin color himself a very light brown, rather like cinnamon, but a deep robustuous black smell as regards personally. And there was a woman in my office who smelled purplish—something like a cross between magenta and maroon. Wonderful woman, remarkably honest. I suspect she is unemployed at present as a result of her unfortunate honesty. A brief woman, but filled with a serene energy that was a real pleasure to work with. A serenergy, as it were. I believe she was the shortest mature person I ever met, but perhaps as a counterbalance to her height her gifts were quite tall. A rich field for speculatory activity, that. Because how very often I have met large muscled powerful men who are quite gentle, and short thin men who are quite violent. Indeed the latter seem to employ the generally reluctant former, as a rule, in matters of criminacious pursuit. If other fields of employment could be found for the large muscled latter, possibly they would retire en masse from service to the short thin former, leaving the former without their usual and traditional troops, and if the violent do not have assistance, would not their efficiency rating, violence-wise, decline and plummet? What good are generals without privates to do their work for them? And imagine the new areas to which the strength and energies of the large muscled persons could be gainfully applied. Ship repair, for example, which would certainly please, for example, our captain. I should say here that even in a career in politics and government, in which a good deal of cursing and foul and vulgar language is common, even quotidian, I have not heard quite the parade and procession of phrases we have heard in the last hour from belowdecks. Imagine that man’s verbal acuity and creativity turned, for example, to poetry, or to song.

*   *   *

Declan calls a business meeting at dusk, when they are all back on board and Danilo and Taromauri have established Enrique back in the tent, and he says by my calculation this is our last night before we hit the main islands tomorrow, probably in the afternoon. The plan is to unload Piko and Pipa and Taromauri, who have offered to take the burned guy with them and leave him at a hospital; Danilo and the minister have asked to be let off also, closer to a town. I have to stand in at some point for fuel and fruit and maybe bless me a cigar, but after that I am back on the road. Questions?

But for once there were no questions, no answers, no jokes, no teasing, no requests for songs, no moaning about o my God fish for dinner again, no remarks about the terns flickering around Pipa in her chair, no stories unfolding and unreeling of Taromauri’s life on her island or Danilo’s wanderings through the forest, no halting examination of Enrique as to who he might be and why he had lived his life as he had, no questions for Declan about the boat or his past on land or his plans for the future, no stories of Elly from Piko or Pipa, no discussion of Pipa and the gull, no mention of the albatross who still floated behind them nine feet over the stern in the place where the gull had floated for so long, no teasing the minister for his bright pink feet, no further questions of the minister as to the shape of the immense new blue nation he saw before him like a horizon, no piercing questions from Pipa to Declan about why he doesn’t want to come with her and her dad and Taromauri instead of sailing off alone are you afraid of people afraid of us what are you afraid of anyway, no remarks from Piko about the changing color of the sea as they approached a line of ancient seamounts or the subtle change in species of fish, no dark mutterings from Declan about the hull patch or the ridiculous embarrassing fecking sailcloth that looked more like fecking old laundry hung out to dry than it did anything fecking else, no quiet speculation about Pipa’s hands working infinitesimally better than they did weeks ago although her feet remain pure useless dangle that’s for sure, no declaiming of the wit and wisdom of Edmund Burke as the last light fails and the bow and stern lights were lit, no laughter from below as someone discovered yet another blessed bag of desiccated almonds o my God how many bags of these things did you start out with o my God, no quiet laughter as Piko says to Declan sweet Jesus Dec were you really going to attack that guy with a bow and arrows, no songs from Danilo and Pipa their voices so braided and embracing that Taromauri sat rapt with her hands folded as if in prayer, no halting beginnings of stories from Enrique about his brothers and their dusty childhood and the smell of mesquite and juniper and pine in the mountains above their village, no stories from the minister about how as a boy he and his friends swam down into sea caves and fought with eels and octopus, no halting stories from Pipa as for the first time she tried to explain how she would leave the warm coffin of her body and send her spirit even unto the depths of the sea.

Not a word, not a sound, not a smile; and again they went to bed early, without dinner around the hatch cover, for no one was hungry at all.

*   *   *

They sailed all morning without the engine, Declan conserving what fuel he had left, and the wind being perfect for scudding along toward what looked like a cloud bank on the horizon but that slowly turned green and revealed itself as a mountain with a crown of mist, and by early afternoon they could see the soaring green cliffs of a large island and the low brown profile of a lean low smaller island to the west.

As everyone else puttered around the boat doing whatever they were doing, Declan pretended to pore over his charts. West and then west, that was the plan, and here I am going east blessed east. Jesus. There were to be no emotions and no feelings and no discussions or misunderstandings or misapprehensions or expectations or illusions or complications on this trip and now there’s nothing
but
complications and emotions. Jesus blessed Christmas. Emotions all over the boat like fish guts. And not even the gull is here anymore. Some fecking crew. I had one who died and now I have six, not counting the albatross. At this rate if I keep going I’ll have twelve, soon enough. The Jesus blessed apostles. Weren’t there thirteen of those? One got cut from the team. Poor bastard. Like the gull. Should I land with them? Should I? I need food and fuel and I have to fix the fecking hull. You
know
you have to hove to sometime and do that, man. Face the facts. This is the time. Stay with them for a while. Hang out with the pip. I could do with a month of the pip. Maybe work her hands and get her back up to speed. Cigars with Piko. Fresh fruit. Start over. The best captain keeps his crew. Fish a little, farm a little. Sit in the sun, smell the orchids. Watch the pip grow up. Could do worse. Way worse.

But he caught himself musing, and corrected course. Someday. Sure. One of these days. Better keep moving.
Misneach
. Stay with the boat. The old bucket has served me well. We’ll be back. Sure we will. We’ll check in here and there. Absolutely. No worries. More to see. More sea. There’s always time to land and stand. Absolutely. They’ll all be fine. They don’t need me. I’d be a burden. They have their plans, two by two. Not me. Solo voyage. Safer that way. West and then west. Stay with the plan. Stay with the boat.

But when he turned away from his charts and stepped out of the cabin to reef the sail and start the engine, he felt Pipa staring at him; and for all his sinewy strength, and testy courage, and prickly defiant personality, and absolute assurance that on
this
boat, on
these
worn cedar planks, on
this
pitching little sunburned stage he was unquestioned and unquestionable master and island resolute, his decisions irrevocable and his independence untrammeled, he quailed, and felt a tiny shiver of shame. He stepped back into the cabin. Through the bullet hole in the window he called to Danilo to furl the sail, as the island grew closer and its sharp cliffs ever more clear and distinct.

*   *   *

Their last hours on the
Plover
were hurried and harried and there was no time for conversation or lingering farewells. They packed up Enrique, who could now stand and walk with help, and Taromauri furled and stored the tent below; they also dismantled Pipa’s chair. Declan insisted that they take it with them but Piko said politely nope, there’s chairs there, you’ll need the parts for something or other, you know you will. Danilo and the minister packed up and picked up below, and scrubbed all extant surfaces to a shine; Taromauri and Pipa scrubbed the cabin roof, removing all traces of the gull’s naturally excretatious behavior, as the minister said. When they were done on the roof Taromauri knelt by the water tank and said something quietly and the warbler came out shyly and flew up on her shoulder. Declan said let’s have one last meal on the hatch cover what say but still no one was hungry. Piko apologized for not getting around to fixing the bullet hole in the window, I really should have got to that, Dec, and Declan said no worries, you had a lot to do, I’ll get to it, I have putty somewhere or chewing gum or I can always use albatross poop or something. Danilo and the minister shook Declan’s hand and said formally that they were most grateful for their passage and while they were not at the moment in a position to fully reimburse the captain for his remarkable generosity they were in a position to make a down payment, which Declan refused, grinning, at which point Danilo said this debt will not be forgotten and will not go unpaid, and Declan said damn right, you guys owe me serious, pay up whenever I am back this way next, plus interest, just kidding. Enrique, supported by Piko, stood and shook Declan’s hand and said quietly thank you and Declan said yeh and Enrique said I am deeply grateful and Declan said yeh, good luck. Piko put his hand on Declan’s shoulder and said Dec, I can’t thank you enough for the lift, we really needed it and you were so generous, you pretend to be a grump but you’re not, and Declan said no worries, brother, anytime, we’ll do it again sometime, you take care of the pipster, I’ll miss you guys, I really will, who ever thought I would say such a sappy thing but it’s true. Taromauri sat on the stern railing with Pipa in her lap and Declan knelt and said listen, Pippish, sailing with you has been the most fun I ever had on the boat and I have been on the boat a
long
time, you can come with me on the boat anytime you want in this lifetime or any next lifetimes we get, I think you are a cool and amazing person, and being with you has been a pleasure and an honor, if I ever have a kid I hope she will be half as great as you, and it was cool to see you get your voice back, and I will keep your mom in my heart okay? and Pipa stared at him silently until Piko cleared his throat and she said thank you, Dec, I love you, Dec, I do, I love you, I love you, and she started to cry and Declan went to the cabin to be absolutely sure of his charts because what if he was off course, what if he thought he was headed in the right direction but had got turned around somehow, wouldn’t that be bad?

*   *   *

Not one but two canoes came out to meet them, somehow; how had they known? In the first canoe, a blue one with a hawk-head prow, was the calm young man with long black hair who had brought him Piko’s letter, long ago now; this must be Piko’s friend Kono, remembered Declan. In the second canoe, painted a brilliant green, was, to Declan’s surprise, a woman, also with long black hair. She was startlingly lovely, he thought—the kind of woman who is so beautiful that you hesitate to look too long, knowing she must endure such stares and gapes constantly. He did stare for a long instant, though, thinking that he had not seen a woman so striking in what felt like years; but then he looked away, feeling uncomfortable, and thinking that his turning away was probably in an odd way a small gift to a woman like her, who would be pleased to not be stared at, for a change. As he turned back to Kono, though, she angled her canoe against the current with a deft infinitesimal shift of her shoulders; and it was this effortless grace, in service to vessel management, that he remembered ever after as the beginning of something else than had been before. A tiny thing, that little confident practiced shimmer of shoulder; but not to Declan.

Piko was standing at the railing with Pipa draped over his back, her head peeking out from over his left shoulder, and Kono smiled up at them, thinking not for the first time that his friend wore his daughter like a bright jacket.

Ahoy the
Plover,
said Kono.

Ahoy the
‘Ili’ili,
said Piko, grinning.

Good to see you safe, brother, said Kono. Welcome back.

And good to see you, brother, said Piko. Thanks for coming out.

We were summoned by the Queen of Makana, and came to pay tribute to her, said Kono, smiling at Pipa. Also to thank your friend for taking you on his boat.

Pleasure, said Declan, trying to not look at Kono’s companion. Kono saw the effort and said gentlemen, my friend Akia. She has come to help.

Akia, the little bird! said Pipa happily from Piko’s shoulder, and Kono’s jaw fell open, just like in the movies, and he began to laugh, and said o dear if the Queen can speak now the world has changed forever, o dear o dear, and Piko explained that he would explain it all later. Then there was a flurry of introductions and greetings as the two canoes hovered alongside, and Taromauri and the minister bowed, and Danilo bent down to shake hands, and Declan busied himself in the cabin, trying not to stare at Akia, who now was trying not to look at Declan, either because she saw that he was trying not to look at her, or because she was trying not to look at him for her
own
reasons, he thought, an idea that made his head ring.