Tikaani stood back to survey the raft. ‘It needs a name,’ he decided.
‘You choose,’ replied Beck.
‘OK.’ His friend thought. ‘The . . . um . . . the . . . something Alaskan. The Walrus? The . . .’
‘Keep thinking,’ Beck told him, and turned back towards the trees. There was one more item they needed and he had seen just the thing earlier on. It was a long branch, thin but sturdy, that he could use as a steering pole. The raft didn’t have a sail or a rudder. The current would carry it in the right direction, but they had to steer it somehow. They would have to pole along the bottom.
‘The Orca?’ Tikaani suggested when he got back with the length of wood. ‘The Polar Bear?’
‘The Igloo?’
‘Ha ha . . .’ Tikaani wasn’t giving up. ‘We could combine our names. The Bekaani.’
‘Or the Tick,’ Beck said with a grin.
‘Hey, this is the first raft I’ve ever made and it gets a name!’
‘Well, give me a hand meanwhile . . .’
The raft was too heavy to lift so they had to push it into the water. Beck had set the floats at right angles to the river so they acted as skids. He pushed one, Tikaani pushed the other and the raft splashed into the shallows.
The boys scrambled onto it and immediately their weight pushed the floats under. The raft bobbed but hardly any water water splashed onto the tarpaulin. Tikaani knelt and clutched the wood. The raft felt very vulnerable as it slowly began to spin out into the centre of the river. It trembled whenever one of them moved.
Beck had been expecting the random movement and was a little more relaxed. ‘Comfortable?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, just about . . .’
‘OK, tie the rucksacks to the frame. There’s not much space and we could easily kick one of them over.’
‘Right,’ Tikaani agreed, maybe thinking of all the time and effort spent carrying those rucksacks this far. ‘That would be kind of a waste . . .’
Beck dug the pole into the bottom of the river and pushed. The raft steadied a little and moved with the current.
Tikaani tied the second rucksack down and relaxed. ‘How about a bird for the raft’s name? Do you get albatrosses in Alaska?’ he asked. ‘The Albatross would be cool.’
‘But albatrosses aren’t meant to ever touch land.’
‘Whoa! OK, not that . . .’
‘How about the Bar-tailed Godwit?’ Beck suggested, not seriously. He had seen that bird in a book and the name had stuck in his memory.
Tikaani pulled a mock scowl. ‘You’re really not taking this seriously.’ His face lit up. ‘The Ptarmigan! That’s the state bird of Alaska.’
Beck smiled. ‘OK, we’ll pay our respects to Alaska.’
He knelt at the edge of the raft and pushed again with the pole to counter the spinning. It moved further into the river and started to turn the other way. The different lengths of the floats made it lean slightly. Finding their balance would be hard.
‘Done.’ Tikaani patted the nearest log. ‘I name you the Ptarmigan.’
Beck gave the pole another nudge. It was like punting. You gave the raft a push and then used the pole as a rudder. But the best way was to let the current do the work. Let the raft find its own stability. He would use the pole to keep the raft centre-stream but not to drive it. Otherwise they would spin all the way to the sea.
The two boys and the Ptarmigan drifted down the Kynak towards Anakat.
It had been the right idea, Beck decided. He kept an eye on the bank. They were moving faster than a walking pace. Even allowing for the time taken to build the Ptarmigan, they would soon be ahead.
It wasn’t a completely smooth ride. The raft wobbled more than a boat ever would. Every now and then a wave or a ripple threw another splash onto the deck, or water splattered against the underside of the tarpaulin.
But the sun was shining and its warmth reflected back off the deck. The lapping of the water was peaceful and soothing. Tikaani uncurled from his kneeling position and cautiously stretched himself out on the tarpaulin. Beck wasn’t remotely surprised when his friend’s eyes closed and it was obvious he was asleep. They were both worn out by their trek over the last three days. The only thing keeping them going was keeping going. Once they stopped moving, sleep soon caught up.
In fact, Beck could feel his own eyes getting heavy. Giving an occasional nudge with the pole didn’t take much energy. He was having to raise his eyebrows just to keep his eyes open.
‘OK,’ he muttered. He dipped his hand in the river and splashed cold water in his face. ‘Stay awake. Keep the mind working.’ It seemed to have done the trick. His mind felt fresher, less cobwebby. But there seemed to be grit in his eyes. He blinked to clear them. Still gritty. He squeezed them shut . . .
A shock ran through Beck’s body as the whole raft suddenly lurched. It was the kind of muscular spasm he sometimes got just before falling asleep.
And that meant he had been falling asleep.
Whoa! he thought. He looked around. The Ptarmigan was spinning again – Beck was facing the bank, which was still passing by at speed several metres away. They were still in the middle of the river. There weren’t any distinguishing landmarks and he couldn’t tell how long he had been asleep for. It probably hadn’t been too long because he was still kneeling down and he still had the pole in his hands.
‘OK. Wakey wakey, Beck Granger.’ The first thing to do was straighten the Ptarmigan up again. He gave the pole a push against the bottom of the river.
Another jerk ran through the whole raft, though Beck was now wide awake. This time a wave of cold water splashed over Tikaani, who woke up with a yelp.
‘Hey, that wasn’t funny!’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ Beck said grimly, and nodded ahead.
The river was no longer smooth. It rippled with waves and troughs. The Ptarmigan had just bounced through one of them. And up ahead, white foam seethed through the gaps between rocks jutting up out of the water.
The raft was heading straight for some rapids.