Rising Tides

CHAPTER 25

Off Tagran Island

“ T here it is!” Lawrence practically squealed. “Home!” Ajax ’s battered longboat was cruising north, northeast through a sickening, quartering swell, under her dingy triangle of canvas. The sky was clear and blue, but the sea was running fairly high. All the occupants of the boat were “old salts” by now, however, and no one noticed any discomfort, except perhaps from sunburn.

“You’re sure this time?” Silva grunted skeptically.

“Sure, I sure! That is Tagran!”

“That’s what he said last time,” Silva reminded everyone darkly. Lawrence shot him a savage look and hissed. “Petey” hissed too, and possibly sensing a brightened mood, chirped, “Eat?”

“No eat, dear,” Rebecca called. “Later perhaps.” They weren’t exactly on short rations-yet-but nobody wanted to waste food on Petey except Rebecca and Dennis, and Silva only claimed to want him fed to keep him fat enough to eat themselves.

Petey hop-glided from the bow of the boat, past the mast, and landed lightly in Rebecca’s lap. He wasn’t much bigger than a housecat and weighed considerably less. His claws and teeth would have made him a handful for many larger predators, though. He looked up at the girl with big eyes, surrounded by scaly skin, that gradually turned to downy feathers. “Eat?” he pleaded pitifully.

“I’m sorry,” Rebecca replied soothingly. “Not now!”

“Little creep,” Silva grunted. He looked at Lawrence and patted his arm companionably. “I know how it feels, little buddy, bein’ a ex-pet. There used to be this gal in Olongapo…” He shook his head and nodded forward. “That little bump over there’s Tagran? It don’t look any bigger than Yap.”

“It is, just… not as high, less… hilly,” Lawrence said. “See that… grayness there?” He pointed. “That is the island I lived on as a hatchling!” Lawrence was genuinely excited. Everyone was. Their escape from Billingsley, their existence on the island, and their ultimate departure had been harrowing enough, but then they were faced with a rough voyage in a leaky boat with only a vague idea of their true position in relation to Lawrence’s home. The map they had wasn’t much good. Silva had been mightily tempted just to say the hell with it and make for the Philippines. Only the current and an insufficient water supply put that notion to rest. He had no doubt they’d make it, they couldn’t miss the Philippines, but it would be a hard trip. Besides, many islands in the Fil-pin Lands were practically unexplored, with lots of nasty beasties. Now, after all they’d all been through, Lawrence’s assurance that they would be met as friends and given aid was a huge relief.

Dennis had a weird thought. “Say, you keep carryin’ on about how happy ever’body’ll be to see you. After gettin’ fooled by the princess, how do I know you ain’t some sort o’ lizard king, or somethin? Why get worked up over you comin’ home?”

Lawrence made a happy sneezing sound, a belly laugh for him. “I not king! I just Lawrence. Tagranesi nice ’olks, though. They love stories, adventure. I have ’oth. Lots to tell! No one has ever returned to Tagran after so long, and I have gone far!”

“Hell, they’ll prob’ly just think you’re a ghost and ignore you.” Silva stopped, glancing aft again, far to the southwest. “Whoa. What the hell?” Others in the boat looked where he was facing. The distant horizon was smudged dark, brooding, where it had been clear just a short time before.

“Is it a storm?” Sandra asked anxiously.

“No,” said Lelaa. “I don’t think so. I don’t know what it is… unless…”

“Unless it’s that damn Talaud.” Silva finished for her. “You said it was gettin’ antsy. Couple o’ times now, I seen som’thin’ like that-when we was further south, on Yap. Might be a big ash cloud, spreadin’ out from it.”

“You said nothing before,” Rajendra said accusingly. “Why not?”

“Why should I? It’s a goddamn volcano! Nothin’ we can do about it. Why worry?”

“But… it is hundreds of miles away!” Rebecca objected. “Surely it cannot threaten us here?”

“When Krakatoa erupted in 1883, the explosion was heard thousands of miles away, and the shock wave is said to have circled the earth numerous times,” Sister Audry said nervously. “Tens of thousands died in the resultant waves.”

“Lieutenant Laumer’s men spoke of a ‘Kraa-katoa,’ ” Lelaa said thoughtfully. “I think some of them feared Talaud was ‘gearing up’ to ‘pull one,’ if I do not mistake the terms.”

“No mistake, Cap’n Lelaa,” Silva said grimly. “Dumb-asses prob’ly jinxed themselves, talking about it.”

“You don’t believe that!” Audry said severely.

Silva didn’t answer. Instead, he looked up at the sail and then turned to Rajendra at the tiller. “See if she’ll come another point or two into the wind. Cinch up them sheets, boys,” he added to Brassey and Abel Cook. “Time to quit goofin’ off.”

“Goofin’ off!” Petey seemed to scold.

As the day wore on, the lonely longboat drew closer to Tagran, close enough to make out details of the island, but at some point Lawrence’s enthusiasm seemed to wane and he grew nervous again.

“What’s the matter, Lawrence?” Rebecca asked, increasingly concerned.

“That is Tagran,” he insisted, “It… looks di’rent, though.”

“It’s been a long time, my dear,” Rebecca consoled him. “Perhaps you are mistaken?”

“Di’rent,” Lawrence said. “I don’t know how.”

“Different, like maybe a big wave splashed over the joint?” Silva said suddenly. “I didn’t see the one that washed over Yap, but it had to be twenty, thirty feet tall just to rinse all our ‘droppin’s’ out from under us. If it was that big when it hit here, or maybe bigger

… Looky there! There’s a buncha crap up in them trees yonder.” He pointed.

“No,” Lawrence moaned.

“What sort of houses do your folks live in?” Silva asked, uncharacteristically gentle.

“Tree timbers, like you call ca’ins… cav-bins”

“Cabins. Are they built up high, like the ’Cats do?”

“No.”

Silva looked at Sandra and Rebecca. Sister Audry shifted to the front of the boat and put a hand on Lawrence’s back.

“Well… a wave couldn’t have washed over the entire place!” Cook said. “There’s a small peak upon it. Two, in fact!”

“That is true,” Lawrence said, his voice miserable. “Tagranesi go there when ground shakes. None live there ’ut our ‘Noble Queen’ and her attendants, though. There is little to eat that is not carried there. Tagranesi catch ’ish, raise creatures to eat, grow things…”

“There’s a sail!” Brassey exclaimed. “There, do you see? It’s coming around the headland! Two sails!”

Silva squinted with his good eye. “There’s more than two! Look kinda like proas! A whole swarm of ’em.” He glanced around. “You know, like big double-ended canoes, with outriggers and a bipod mast!”

“They do look quite like proas,” Sister Audry exclaimed, shading her eyes. “Proas were quite common around Java… once.”

“Who are they?” Rajendra demanded, checking the prime in his pistol. “Are they your people, Lawrence?”

Lawrence shook his head. “I Think so. Others, not just Tagranesi, use those kichi-acki, ah, ’roas.”

“But they might be enemies of yours, here to plunder the remains of your home?” Rajendra insisted.

“I think not,” Lawrence replied as the vessels began converging toward the longboat. “They are Tagranesi! Thank the God!”

“Well, don’t just sit there gapin’, you nitwitted lizard!” Silva exclaimed. “Shout out to ’em before they think we’re here a’plunderin’!”

There on the open water beneath a clear, sunny sky, Lawrence was reunited with his amazed people. They weren’t the only ones amazed. Silva, Sandra, and Rebecca in particular had come to know the Grik better than they cared to, and the Tagranesi looked an awful lot like their hated enemy. They’d grown used to Lawrence, but to see so many of his people acting like… people… instead of raving killing machines was so far beyond their experience, it took a while for them to loosen their grips on their weapons. At first Lawrence jabbered excitedly across to one of the larger proas, apparently summarizing their tale and explaining his miraculous return. The Tagranesi listening to him appeared as tense as Silva and the others felt at first, but after a while they too laid their weapons aside and listened as Lawrence spoke. Occasionally, one of the apparent “leaders” made a comment or loudly repeated something Lawrence said.

“What the hell?” Dennis demanded during a brief pause.

“That’s Chinakru!” Lawrence replied, referring to what seemed the “main” leader. The creature looked like an older version of Lawrence, covered with fine orangish “fur” and dark brown stripes. The crest on its head was much longer and flatter than Lawrence’s, and fell down around its neck almost like a horse’s mane. Even when the crest stood up, as it had when the first words were exchanged, it still covered the top of the creature’s head like a horsetail plume. The most amazing thing about Chinakru, however, was that despite his apparent fitness, he looked old. His feathery fur was shot with white, and so was the thick crest. Some of his teeth were gone and the others looked none too sharp. There were even dark, wet circles around almost rheumy eyes. None of the humans had ever seen an old Grik.

“Who’s he?”

“Chinakru is-used to-ah, he teacher, head’aster, leader on island that I grew to…” Lawrence shrugged. “Island I grew to ‘Lawrence’ on. He knows I! He knows ‘Lawrence’ now too! I told him the title ’Ecky gave! It is a strange title, true, yet it is I now! It is real! I real!”

“That’s wonderful, Lawrence!” Rebecca gushed. “Are you sure you don’t mind the name? It was all I could come up with at the time. Perhaps one less ‘strange’ to your people would be best?”

“No! I Lawrence now!” the Tagranesi declared proudly. “I achieved all that is I as ‘Lawrence.’ Lawrence I stay!”

“That’s swell, Larry,” Silva jibed, “but what’s goin’ on? Why’s everybody out here bobbin’ around on the water to meetcha?” More than twenty proas of all shapes and sizes were in view now, and several had gathered around them, hove to. “Why don’t we take this touchin’ reunion party ashore?”

Lawrence spoke to Chinakru and then listened as the old Tagranesi told his own people’s tale. His voice was grim as he passed the translation. Essentially, though Lawrence was now a “person” in the eyes of his people, his people no longer had a home. They weren’t even “Tagranesi” anymore. The great wave had come in the night, as Lawrence had feared, and many had been drowned. Worse, all the survivors’ livelihoods, their crops, livestock, everything, had been destroyed as well. All that remained were these boats nestled in a cove on the lee side of the island to carry almost three hundred refugees. Perhaps ten times that number had died, or had been left behind to starve.

Chinakru and his best pupils had left the “proving ground,” the “forming” island to help those he now led on a mass migration “somewhere else.” It had happened before, centuries in the past, and now they must endure the greatest trial of all.

“But it’s right there!” Silva protested. “How come they have to leave? What about us? Can’t we at least rest up for a while? Shit!”

The ground had not shaken before the wave, but now it shook all the time. More waves would come, perhaps even bigger. The only “safe” place would be the highest hill on Tagran, and only the “Noble Queen” of Tagran could remain there with a select few to rebuild their people, since there was not nearly enough food for all. The only chance for the refugees was to get as far out to sea as possible before the next waves came, and ride them out. They might not even notice them on the water. After that, they must find a new place or die.

“Jeez,” Dennis muttered, looking longingly at the island so close. “I guess it’s the Philippines, then, after all. Talk about wasted time!” He looked around the boat. “That’s six, maybe seven hundred miles, and the currents won’t be any help at all.”

“But the current carried Lawrence, Mr. O’Casey, and myself in the right direction,” Rebecca protested.

“You were south of here, and lucky too,” Dennis said. “Besides, it carried you nearly straight at Talaud. If that’s what’s causin’ most o’ this ruckus, that’s the last place we want to make for. Cap’n Lelaa?”

Lelaa nodded slowly. “Agreed. Talaud must be the culprit. I hope Mr. Laumer’s expedition has already left that place!”

“What should we do?” Sandra asked the Lemurian sailor, seeking her professional opinion.

“Mr. Silva is right-we must make for the Fil-pin Lands.”

Rajendra growled something under his breath.

“What’s that?” Sandra demanded, but Rajendra didn’t answer.

“It’s our only real option,” Lelaa persisted. “The map from Ajax shows other, closer islands, but they will be as vulnerable as Yap and Tagran, and we don’t know who, if anyone, might meet us there.” She stared significantly at the gathered proas. “We can’t stay here. There’s no food, and I suspect going ashore to take any that remains would result in violence. Personally, I’d rather die than return to Yap, even without the shiksaks. It must be the Fil-pin Lands! Now, if Talaud ‘blows,’ there will be massive waves, much like Sister Audry described. The southern Fil-pin Lands, Min-daanao particularly, will be swamped. We should steer west, northwest, and sail as fast as we can. With the compass, the Heavens, and Captain Rajendra’s quadrant, we will not get lost.” She sighed. “Silva is also right about the currents, if not the distance. I have never been this far east, obviously, but I’ve been off the east coast of the Fil-pin Lands. The currents will be against us. We’re now actually about nine hundred of your miles from our destination, a voyage of… months. How much food and water do we have?”

“Not that much!” Rajendra blurted.

“Have you a better suggestion?” Sandra asked. Rajendra just shook his head.

“We have about a month and a half, usin’ just enough to keep body and soul together,” Silva said. Lelaa nodded agreement. She’d estimated as much.

Sandra sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Lawrence,” she said at last, “your people have no knowledge of the Philippines, correct?”

“None, except I.”

“I imagine those… proas are a lot faster than this boat, with as little sail as it can carry.”

“True,” Lawrence agreed.

“Twice as fast?”

Lawrence didn’t know. The only one he’d ever sailed, he’d built himself, and it was very small.

Lelaa had been looking at the lines of the boats in question. “At least that,” she said, “which would shorten the trip, but those boats do not look as well suited to heavy weather.”

“And ours is? How much food and water do they have?”

Lawrence asked, and discovered that the refugees had less than they did, for all intents and purposes.

“Saan-Kakja may kill me,” Sandra muttered, “but ask them if they want to go someplace way bigger than they’ve ever seen; where no wave can ever wash their lives away.” She looked at Lelaa. “I don’t think Saan-Kakja even has a colony on Samar, does she?”