Apr 10, 2018 6 min read

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The story so far: With Lisa paying more attention to him, Aaron is feeling better. His mood plummets, however, when he hears the hum and throb of an approaching motorboat. Is it the Sea Wolf?

• Chapter 13

Cat and mouse

We knew that sound by now. The Sea Wolf was somewhere behind us, and gaining steadily. Sound travels far, out on the water; there was no telling how distant away the boat was. Willie raised his paddle, the signal to regroup. Dad and I coasted up to the others.

“This is the plan,” Willie said. “We separate, then meet up on Sprague Island after dark. According to the chart, there’s a tiny cove tucked into the southeastern corner.” He pulled out the chart and pointed out three ways to get to the cove. Then he handed the chart to Roger, who studied it for a moment and handed it to Dad.

The sound of the motor grew louder. “Whistle like a bird when you enter the cove,” Willie said, twittering softly by way of example.

Willie and Cassidy paddled northwest while Roger and Lisa headed northeast. Dad and I went due north, sticking to the channel.

I looked over my shoulder. The silhouette of a fishing boat, less than a mile away, was cutting our way.

“Dad, they’re coming!”

“Let’s pull toward shore,” he said, “and hide out till they pass by.” There was a wooded islet off to the east, maybe five hundred yards away.

I never paddled so hard in my life. We synchronized our strokes so our paddles wouldn’t clash, and we skimmed across the sea. The first stars popped out, and the moon, half full, grew brighter.

We slipped like a shadow up to the rocky shore, just as the Sea Wolf pulled even with us, about a quarter of a mile out in the main channel. They were chugging along at about ten knots per hour, sweeping the sea with their spotlight.

I looped my arm around a low branch, and we hid out in the moon shadow till the Sea Wolf dwindled to a spot of light in the growing dark.

Dad whistled softly as we entered the cove in the moonlight. The same whistle floated back to us.

Willie had built a small fire beneath a tarp rigged up like a lean-to. “You’re just in time, pard,” he said to me, and winked. “Bring me that big cod you hauled in. I got me some good hot coals here.”

I came back with the big fish dangling from a stringer and slapping against my shin.

“Thanks, pard,” said Willie. “I’ll have this puppy good to go in a jiffy.”

Twenty minutes later, our mouths watered when Willie pulled the foil-wrapped cod from the coals with his bare hands. He’d done it again. The stars burned, the waves slapped the shore, and the moon poured into us as we ate that fish with our fingers and moaned in delight.

Lisa and I stayed up late, lying on a bed of moss and gazing up at the sky. A dark cloud passed across the moon.

“I had a dream about Chinese immigrants,” I said, and described it to her. “I don’t know how you got into it, but dreams are like that.”

“Yeah, dreams are strange, aren’t they?” she said. “Maybe you’re worried about me, Aaron, but don’t be. I can take care of myself.”

The wild, haunting cry of a loon pierced the night.

“Dad says that native people up here call loons rain birds,” I said. “If you hear one, it means a storm’s on the way.”

“Shhhh. It’s time for bed, me lad and lassie.” It was Roger. “We’re breaking camp before dawn.”

I rolled toward Lisa and she rolled toward me. Her high cheekbones caught the moonlight, and I could feel her warm breath on my face. The whole world seemed to stand still – but Roger called us again, the moment broke, and we crawled off to our separate tents.

At false dawn, Dad slipped on a wet boulder and bruised his elbow. Cassidy told him he could go in his kayak and that he’d paddle for both of them. I started to protest, but Dad said, “Thanks, Cassidy. Good idea.”

Yeah, thanks Cassidy, I said to myself. Luckily, Lisa cheered me up. She begged to paddle with me – claiming we’d be lighter than Roger and her, and that we’d fly through the water like a dolphin.

We hugged the shorelines of small island after small island, paddling swiftly, perfectly in sync. At this rate, I told myself, we’d make it to the ferry on time the next day. Tomorrow! I thought. All of a sudden, I realized that I wanted this trip – which I’d had such doubts about taking – to never end.

Dark clouds began to gather in the late afternoon. When we heard the sound of the Sea Wolf, it hit us like a thunderclap.

“In here!” Roger called. We followed Willie and him through a narrow opening into a large lagoon. It was slack tide, and the lagoon was as flat as a lake.

We looked for a place to put in and camp, but stunted spruce grew in a solid mass right down to the waterline, so we decided to slip back out of the lagoon in the twilight and seek a better haven.

When we got to the opening, a tidal rip slashed across the way; the tide rushed in, like rapids through a narrow gorge. But Roger and Willie shot through it like pros. Then Cassidy paddled like the maniac he was – with Dad in front – and broke through, yipping like a coyote.

Now it was our turn. My mouth went dry, my palms were sweating. Here we go! I thought. Lisa and I paddled like crazy. But the rip turned our bow and hit us broadside, and over we went-swoosh! We hung upside down from our cockpits, clutched in the icy grip of the current – like the talons of an osprey – pummeled by bubbles of light.

NEXT WEEK: The storm