Pain thundered through Jarvis’s head as he rolled to his side. His stomach churned and he moaned as his fogged mind returned to the previous night’s carousing. He pressed his hands to his skull. “Should have stayed away from the hooch.” He peered through dim light filtering into the hut.
Frank still lay sprawled beneath a pelt, his snores rattling through the room.
Jarvis grimaced at the sight of his rotund partner. “Could’ve done better,” he muttered, pushing to his feet while guarding against the pain in his head.
Besotted natives strewed the floor.
No matter that he’d been in the same state only moments before, the sight was disgusting.
He stumbled toward the doorway and stepped outdoors into fresh air.
Sunlight burned through fading layers of morning fog, and Jarvis squinted as he glanced about the village at the old and tattered mud and grass huts. He was sick of Alaska and its people. There had never been any love lost between Jarvis and the natives or, for that matter, between Jarvis and anyone.
A hot bath and a good game of cards. That’s what he needed. And he’d be glad to be rid of the place. He scanned the harbor, looking for the ship that would soon carry him back to civilization.
The bay was empty, the ship gone. He looked beyond the cove but found no sign of the clipper’s sails.
The ship had sailed without him.
A barrage of unsavory words spilled from his mouth and he threw his hat to the ground. “Frank!” he bellowed, stomping back inside the hut. He stood over his partner’s inert form and jabbed him hard with the toe of his boot. “Frank. Wake up.”
Jarvis’s partner groaned and blinked his eyes as if trying to focus on the man standing over him. He rubbed his scraggly beard. “Come on, can’t a man get some sleep? What do ya want?”
“The ship. It’s gone.”
Frank pulled a pelt over his face and mumbled, “You’re dreamin’. They wouldn’t leave without us. Take another look.”
“I’ve already looked. And I’m not dreaming. This is a stinkin’ nightmare.”
With a grunt, Frank sat up and brushed long hair out of his eyes. “You’re serious?”
“Take a look for yourself.”
“Why would they leave us?”
“How should I know?” Jarvis stormed to the doorway and stared out at the bay.
“What’re we gonna do now? We’re stuck.”
Jarvis thought a moment. “We ain’t stuck. But I don’t intend to spend one more day with these stinkin’ savages. We’ll hoof it out of here and meet old Captain James and his cutter in Kenai.”
“Are you crazy? We’ll never make it. I think we oughta stay put until another ship comes along. And I don’t remember you finding the company of that little maiden so repulsive last night.” Frank smirked.
“I was drunk.” Jarvis sat on the floor and rested his arms on his knees. “Seems I’m always getting left,” he mumbled.
“What’d you say?”
“Nothin’. Just thinkin’ about my old man.” He glanced in the direction of the bay. “It could be months before another ship comes. You can stay if you want, but I’m movin’ on.”
Frank blew out a breath and then forced himself to his feet. “All right, all right. I’ll go. Once you’ve got your mind set, there’s no changin’ it and I don’t feel like being the only white man around.” He scratched his beard. “You got a plan?”
Jarvis took tobacco and papers out of his shirt pocket. After tapping tobacco into the paper, he licked the edge of the paper and rolled it. “If we move hard and steady, we oughta make Cook Inlet before winter. We can find someone to take us across to Kenai. It’ll be worth it to see the look on Captain James’s face when he sees us.” He lit the cigarette and sucked smoke into his lungs. “I can’t wait to get my hands around his scrawny chicken neck.”
Anna’s skin itched from the moist grass and coarse sand, and she rubbed at her face as she roused from a restless sleep. Brushing aside her damp hair, she rolled onto her back and struggled to open her eyes.
Even in her half-conscious state, the heaviness of grief and despair threatened to smother her. Distorted images tumbled through her mind—Kinauquak, Inoki, the sea …
She fought to free herself from the nightmare. And then all of it flooded her mind, sweeping away the hidden place of slumber. The wave!
Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she banished the picture from her mind, pushing her fists against her eyelids, willing it to leave.
The image remained.
She clenched her jaw, fighting burning tears. It must’ve been a dream.
But one look about proved the image’s reality.
She rose up on one elbow, breathing shallow and heart beating so rapidly it pounded hard against her chest. Careful not to awaken Iya, she slid away from the little girl and straightened on weedy legs. She shuffled toward the cliff edge and a shudder swept through her when she reached the ridge and looked down on the beach.
The empty beach.
A swell of nausea went through her and she swayed, the blackness of unconsciousness threatening to envelop her. She knelt in the dirt, closed her eyes, and took slow, deep breaths until the ominous darkness subsided.
She forced herself to look again and was unable to restrain a moan. There were no laughing children or chatting women, no hunters sharpening their spears or fishermen repairing nets.
There was nothing.
The steady rhythmic surf marched endlessly ashore, but the cry of the seabirds sounded empty and lonely, for there was no one else to hear their clamoring.
Iya sat up, blinked her eyes and rubbed. She pushed to her feet and edged toward the rim. Dark, angry clouds hovered above the steep cliffs that rose sharply from the beach, shrouding the young girl standing atop the bluffs.
Anna shivered as cold damp air, driven by a brisk wind, pierced her clothing. She moved to Iya and wrapped her arms about the little girl. They were alone.
Everything is gone. Everything.
Her chest tightened and her throat ached as she looked down at her sister. Iya would never again know the love of their mother and father or have the companionship of the family. We have only each other. Her eyes swam with burning tears.
Iya wrapped her arms around Anna’s waist and held on. She looked up at her sister. “Was there really a wave?” she whispered.
Anna couldn’t bring herself to speak of it. She only nodded.
Iya’s shoulders drooped and her eyes flickered toward the empty beach. A mixture of fear and grief showed on her sweet face. She tightened her hold on Anna.
Anna stroked her hair. This is too cruel for a child. She sang a comforting lullaby and for several minutes held Iya against her. Anna’s empty stomach rumbled and reality confronted her. They were surrounded by lush fields, but the warm summer season would be followed by one of darkness and frigid cold. The grasses would die and withered berries would fall to the ground.
How would she and Iya live? Although the sea held all they needed, she was not a hunter. Women were forbidden to hunt. All she knew was the fleshing of hides, making of baskets, and preparation of food. The ways of the fishermen and the hunters were a mystery to her.
Defeat washed over Anna, tempting her to surrender. But Iya … Anna could not yield. She must fight. Deep within, a desire to live grabbed hold of her.
They would live. She would learn what she knew not.
Knowing she could not avoid the inevitable, Anna dragged in a deep breath and said in a rush, “We must return to the beach …”
“No.” Iya pushed away from Anna, her usual light brown complexion now a sickly pallor.
Anna understood Iya’s panic, for she fought the same fear. Gently, she said, “Iya, we have no choice. We cannot stay here. The sea gives us life.”
“The sea takes life.”
How could one answer that? She stood, took Iya firmly by the hand, and walked toward the trail with an assurance she didn’t feel.
Her voice shaking, Iya pleaded, “Why can’t we stay here? What if the wave returns?”
Anna shook her head. “It will not come again. See how calm the sea is. The gods are no longer angry, and we have broken no taboos.”
“Taboos?” Iya asked, clearly frightened even at the mention of the possibility.
“A taboo is never broken willingly, unless someone wishes to anger the gods. I do not know anyone who is so foolish. I have not angered them, and you are too young to know of such things.” Her feigned assurance should mask her fear. “We cannot live on the bluffs. We must return.”
The sea had always given life. Anna’s people respected the ocean with its formidable power and constant provision. Even though many had perished in the great expanse of water, Anna had never feared it until now. She must learn to trust again, to be bonded in a partnership with the sea as provider.
Anna stopped and stared at the steep track leading to the beach, summoning the courage to follow it. She scanned the ocean. It looked calm. Gripping Iya’s hand, she took a deep breath and started down the winding path. At the end of the trail, she reached out and lifted Iya over several large boulders at the foot of the cliffs.
The massive stones had not moved but lay exactly as they had before.
Anna studied the uniform waves, ready to retreat if given reason. Still leading Iya, she forced herself to move cautiously across the sand.
Uncertain of what she was looking for, and afraid of what she might discover, Anna scanned the dark beach. Would there be bodies? Could she bear that?
With each approaching swell, she willed her legs not to flee. Occasionally she studied the ocean, seeing the picture of the great wave in her mind—the ocean slipping away, only to return as a giant mountain of water seeking the lives of those she loved. The scene played over and over in her mind. She pushed it away, but each time, like the ocean surf, it returned to viciously taunt her.
Anna stumbled over something in the sand and fell face down.
Iya crouched next to her and gently touched Anna’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” Fear laced her voice.
Nodding, Anna pushed herself up and brushed sand from her hands and face. “What did I trip over?”
A stick protruded from the damp soil.
She grasped the end of it and, with a quick tug, pulled it free.
“A spear!” Iya cheered.
Anna turned the lance over and ran her hand across the shaft. The shaman’s charms hung from the top of the pole.
Even the shaman had no power against the sea. He had claimed the gods would protect him. What God was so powerful that the shaman could be destroyed?
She held the spear close to her, clutching it tightly, remembering the stranger on the bluff the day before.
He had brought the white man’s God to her home. His God destroyed her people.
Now she had someone to blame for her pain. She raised her fist into the air and shouted, “What kind of God kills women and children? My mother loved you, and you betrayed her.”
Whimpering, Iya cowered by a nearby log.
Her crying brought Anna up short. She knelt next to Iya and wrapped the little girl in her arms. “I am sorry. I do not wish to frighten you. I was angry, that is all. It will be all right.”
The little girl wiggled free. “Will God hurt us, too?”
She should never have cursed the God of her mother. Not because she didn’t believe the words, but because it had scared Iya. “Did He destroy us when the great wave came?”
Iya shook her head.
“I do not believe He wants to hurt us. If so, He would have.” Though she had no confidence He wouldn’t slay them at any moment. After all, her mother had believed in this God, and He had not protected her. Luba had always told Anna He was a God who loved them.
So this was a God of love? Where was her mother now?
Anna’s heart raged as she stood defiantly with the spear in her hands, hatred for the God her mother had trusted swelling.
Iya watched Anna closely but said no more.
The anger and hatred that seared Anna’s heart made it difficult for her to speak. Through clenched teeth, she said, “We cannot trust the outsiders and must never trust their God. He is cruel and vengeful.” She stooped before the small girl. Looking straight into her eyes, she said, “Iya, always remember, we can trust only in each other. We need no one else.”
Iya frowned, but when Anna continued down the beach, she followed.
They stopped when they reached the spot where their hut had stood only hours earlier. An indentation in the sand was all that remained. Everything they owned was gone, swept into the sea.
A large bush, partially uprooted, clung precariously to life. A portion of a net was entangled in its branches. Careful not to tear the netting, Anna disentangled it. The tool would be useful in the days ahead. Flinging the net over one shoulder, she said, “With this, we will catch many fish.”
They moved on, scouring the beach for other usable objects, but the few bits and pieces they found were too damaged to use. The wave had taken everything. At least Anna had remembered to take her leather pouch when she’d gone to pick berries. Her flints and knife would help them survive.
“There is a cave in the cliff wall we can use for shelter. It is small but will protect us from the rain and wind.” She headed toward it.
“What is that?” Iya pointed down the beach at a large mound in the sand.
Anna stared hard at the suspicious bulge. “I do not know. You stay here. I will look.” Her mouth had gone dry with apprehension. Anna approached the mysterious pile of sand. What if it was one of her people?
No, it was some kind of animal, buried deeply. She would have to dig it out of the rocks and sand. She dropped to her knees beside the mound and scooped away the earth concealing the creature.
Kinauquak’s walrus!
Anna sucked in a breath and pushed away from the animal. Scrambling to her feet, she stumbled and fell backward. There she sat, unmoving and mute, unbidden tears spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “Everyone is gone. Kinauquak, our mother and father. Everyone. Gone.” Deep sorrow engulfed her as if her life’s spirit were being crushed. Her weeping became an empty, monotone song of grief, a chant of death. She cradled her abdomen and her unborn child—all she had left of Kinauquak.
Iya knelt beside Anna and rested an arm across her shoulders. The little girl leaned against her sister and the two wept.
The shuffling sound of someone walking through sand came from behind Anna. She whirled about.
The stranger from the bluffs walked toward them, taking long strides. He walked with ease, rapidly closing the gap between them.
Anna held Iya close to her and looked for an escape. There was none. They were trapped. She could never outrun him, and so she would hold her ground.
Like Alulak before the wave she stood, planting her feet firmly in the sand and gripping the shaman’s spear in front of her.
Iya hid behind Anna.
Tall, lean, and wearing the soft clothing Anna had seen on other outsiders, the man approached with confidence. His full beard gave him the appearance of a fierce and dangerous man, but as he came closer Anna could detect no cruelty in his piercing blue eyes. His leather coat hung loosely across his broad shoulders and he had no hat to cover his pale, windblown hair.
Anna grasped the spear more firmly, drawing strength from the shaman’s powerful possession.
The stranger stopped only a few yards from her. He stroked his beard and stared at her for a moment, then slowly lowered his arms to his sides and said in a low, gentle voice, “You can put down your spear. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Anna understood the words, but why should she trust him? She stared at him and did her best to look intimidating.
A flash of confusion and frustration cross the stranger’s face. “I know you can understand me. All you natives speak some English.”
Anna did not respond.
The outsider shrugged. “Only wanted to help. I saw what happened to your people. I was on that far bluff.” He pointed to a cliff on the other side of the inlet. “A tsunami. The wave, I mean. It was a tsunami.”
No response.
“I’ve heard about them but never thought I’d see one. I didn’t know they could be so bad. I’m real sorry about your village ... your family.”
He sounded sincere. Anna knew not to trust this man, but he wasn’t what she had expected. All outsiders are treacherous, she reminded herself. In a sharp, venomous voice, she replied in English, “We not need help.” She took Iya’s hand and led her down the beach away from the stranger and toward the cave.
Iya ran to keep up.
It took all her effort not to look back. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the ground in front of her. “When he leaves, we will return for the walrus,” Anna told Iya in a hushed tone. “It will feed us for many days.”
The cave was small and the two girls huddled inside its protective walls. They sat facing the sea, waiting for the outsider to leave their beach.
Iya shivered. “Can you make a fire?”
Tipping her head toward the place they had encountered the stranger, Anna answered, “When he is gone, we will gather grass and driftwood.”
Iya crawled to the entrance of the cave and peeked toward the beach. “I do not see him.” She darted out of the shelter.
Anna glanced quickly down the shoreline and, finding it empty, followed Iya.
The two gathered leaves, grasses, and small bits of wood, which would serve as good starter for a fire, from the cliffs. Then they used the fronts of their skirts to carry larger pieces of driftwood back to the shelter.
Kneeling in the center of the cave, Anna arranged the dried leaves into a small pile, took the flints from her pouch, and struck them against one another several times until a spark ignited the leaves. When a small puff of smoke rose from the pile, she leaned over, cupped her hands around the smoking foliage, and gently blew into it until a flame flickered to life. She added more dry grass and bits of wood. When the flame grew stronger, Iya handed Anna some of the larger chunks of driftwood, which she placed in the flames. Soon a warm blaze burned, and the two snuggled together, quietly staring into the flickering light.
Iya pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs. “If we cannot hunt, how can we live?” Her voice rose to barely more than a whisper.
“We have the walrus, and there are mussels in the bay and berries on the bluffs. There are many eggs to collect from the cliffs, and we will learn to hunt and fish.”
“But to hunt is taboo.” Iya’s voice hushed as if she were afraid the gods would hear.
Anna compressed her lips. “I have thought on that. I do not believe it is taboo if there is no man to hunt. I do not think the gods will punish us for doing what we must.”
Saying nothing more, Iya rested her chin on her knees and stared into a dark corner of the cave.
We will survive. With a heart of courage, Anna crept around the corner of the cave and peered down the beach. Cold wind whipped across her face. “We have warmed ourselves long enough. It is time to get the meat from the walrus.” She strode across the wet, rocky sand to the half-buried animal. Kneeling next to the beast, she scooped away more of the soil, exposing most of the creature.
Iya did her best to help, tossing handfuls of sand and rock aside.
Occasionally Anna looked about to reassure herself that they were alone, gazing at the sea, skin prickling with apprehension.
Once the animal was free, Anna reached into her pouch and retrieved her prized steel knife. She had worked many hours fleshing hides in trade for the blade. She plunged the knife into the walrus, sliced along the middle of its abdomen, and exposed the inner cavity. Deftly she removed the precious organ meats and handed them to Iya.
The little girl cradled them in her skirt and carried them to their camp.
When she returned, Anna finished skinning the hide back from the thick layer of fat that covered the animal and carefully sliced the fat away from the flesh. Weary, she sat back on her heels and wiped sweat from her brow.
Using the palm of her hand, Iya rubbed Anna’s forehead. “You have blood there.”
Anna rested a few minutes, allowing the breeze to cool her before resuming her work. Next, she cut the meat away from the bone and into manageable chunks. Later, she would slice these into thin wedges for drying.
She laid the skin out on the ground and set some of the meat on it. “Iya, you take one side. Together, we can carry this to the cave.”
With the makeshift litter swinging between them, they made their way back to the shelter. It took several trips to move and store the meat.
Tired from the labor, she sat, Iya close by, for a few minutes. Anna sliced off a piece of blubber and handed it to Iya, then took one for herself. They smiled at each other while they ate.
It felt good to have accomplished so much, but there was still a considerable amount to be done.
She forced herself back to her feet. “We will need wood for a drying rack and some hollow rocks to store the fat.”
They headed for the beach once more.
It wasn’t difficult to find the wood as the beach was littered with it. The stones were another matter. It was not easy to find large rocks with hollowed out centers that would hold the rendered blubber that would be used for candles and to preserve meats and berries.
Anna’s stomach grumbled. Exhausted, she picked up one last stone. “Enough for today. It is time to eat and rest.” She was almost too weary to make even one more trip back to the cave, but the promise of food and a warm fire helped carry her there.
She sliced another piece of blubber for each of them.
Iya took the offered fat and greedily bit into it.
Anna speared a chunk of meat with a willow shoot and placed it over the fire. Drops of fat fell and sizzled as they splattered on the heated stones. The aroma of cooking meat filled the air, and Anna’s mouth watered in anticipation.
Iya’s hungry eyes told of her impatience.
Unable to wait, Anna removed the meat from the flames long before it had finished cooking.
Oblivious to its half-raw state, she sat back and ate until she curbed the gnawing pain in her belly. Between her and Iya, nothing went to waste.
When they finished, they licked their fingers clean.
Hunger satisfied, Anna shared her plans with Iya. “Tomorrow we will go up to the meadows and gather grass for baskets and bedding. If we weave our baskets very tightly, we can keep our berries and meat in them during the winter. But we will have to work very hard. If we find many berries, we can preserve some in oil and dry the rest.” She stopped to gather her thoughts. “There are many fish in the shallow waters, and with the net we can catch all we need. And there’s always sea grass,” Anna said with a wink for Iya, who didn’t like sea grass at all.
Iya wrinkled up her nose before a shadow of doubt fell across her face. “What about the stranger?”
“He is gone. Do not think of him anymore.” Anna lay down and pulled Iya close to her. She rested her head on her hands. “It’s time to sleep. Tomorrow there is much work to do.”
They huddled close in the soft sand, Anna pushing aside her fears and feelings of isolation. Her stomach was full, but her heart was empty. In weariness, she fell asleep, her sorrow temporarily replaced by the need for rest.