When I got back to the Mission and finished my daily work I went in search of my brother. He was in the shop, filing on a piece of iron that he was making into a fishhook.
"You have a hundred hooks already," I said.
"Now it is a hundred and one. This," he said, holding it up, "will catch the biggest
pez espada
that ever swam in the sea." It was thicker than his thumb and three times as long. "It will catch a whale."
"We are not going out to catch whales," I said, "or
espadas
either."
From that day on I began to save dried beef and food we could use for a week's voyage.
Mando said that we would live on what the sea brought us. Fish and lobsters, abalone and mussels from the rocks on the islands we passed.
"We will live off the sea with what I catch," he bragged. "You don't need to worry. I'll catch a duck or two also."
But I still saved food that would keep for a week or more, in case we failed to catch anything with all of Mando's hooks. The boat was well stocked by the time we were ready to go. Our store would last a week should we need it.
We told no one, not even Father Vicente. Nor Father Merced, who might tell Captain Cordova at the garrison, which was near the Mission, and have the captain put us in prison for stealing something that belongs to the Mission.
We planned to leave two nights before the full moon, after the last bell before bed. The afternoon before we left, Captain Nidever came to the Mission and told me again that it was a foolish thing to do.
"If you were a sailor. If you had experience on the sea, even on the water near our islands, I would say nothing. But you are going into a treacherous world of winds and seas that can be very rough in a very small boat."
Mando spoke up. "Mukat and Zando will guard us."
Captain Nidever looked puzzled, not having heard the names of our Indian gods before. He saw that we could not be persuaded, that we had stubbornly closed our minds.
"When you get to Santa Cruz, anchor on the far side of the island, close to shore, in the kelp bed."
"We have an anchor that weighs forty pounds," Mando said.
"When you drop her," he said, "climb to the highest ridge and look far off to your left. If the day is clear, you'll see the Island of the Blue Dolphins. Then with your compass, mark the direction."
"We have none."
"No compass? You'll end up in China."
He reached in his jacket and took out something that looked like a watch.
"Here's one I'm not using," he said. Captain Nidever showed me the marks and letters on its face. "The needle always points north, no matter how you hold it," he explained.
He turned the compass in his hand and I saw that the needle always pointed toward the chapel door, as if Mukat were holding it fast.
"Put the compass on a rock," he said, "and turn it until the needle points to the letter "N." Then you must sight off to the island and put down the direction you read exactly—the direction to the Island of the Blue Dolphins. When you leave, head the boat that way, but make sure the needle is always over the letter "N." Without currents and winds you shouldn't be off more than three miles by nightfall and maybe five miles by the next. But from that distance you'll easily see the island." He closed the lid of the compass and gave it to me. "Don't forget to bring it back," he said, moving off down the beach.
"I will bring it back," I promised him. "And Karana, too."
He stopped. "If it gets too rough and you're taking on water, don't be afraid to turn back. You can always try again, you know. Remember that he who turns his stern to wind and spray, lives to sail another day."
Chapter 5
M
ANDO FOUND
a piece of cloth for a square sail and made a small mast, but on the night we left, with the moon shining on the water and the sea calm, the sail blew away before we had gone a league.
We rowed all night, rowing together and one at a time, resting when our hands began to hurt. We followed the line of the surf that showed white in the moon. At dawn we were down the coast, near Mission Ventura.
The surf was heavy here. Off in the west I could see the cliffs of Santa Cruz and Santa Rosa. Mando caught a
dorado
near the surf but he was too tired to clean it, so we ate a strip of jerky and two tortillas apiece.
There was no wind, only swells coming from the northwest. Rowing was easy in the smooth water and we reached the kelp bed on the south point of Santa Cruz. We worked our way through the kelp into a quiet cove. We moored our boat with strands of kelp instead of the heavy anchor and waded ashore, carrying the fish Mando had caught.
We climbed the cliff, while it was still light. Off to the southwest I could see the outline of the Island of the Blue Dolphins. It looked near to us and clear, but I noticed that the water was not so calm between Santa Cruz and the Island of the Blue Dolphins as it was along the shore we had traveled during the night. On the horizon there were humps that looked like hills, but were really big waves.
I put the compass on a rock and turned it until the needle pointed to "N," as Captain Nidever had told me to do, and read the direction where the island lay.
We went back down the cliffs and built a fire of sticks and brush. We ate the fish and boiled mussels we pried off the rocks in the pot I had. We had a good meal, but the blankets I had brought were not heavy enough to keep us warm. It was cold and my hands hurt. I was glad to see the sun come up far across the channel.
It took Mando an hour, or so it seemed, to get his fishing line together. He tied the big hook he had made in the workshop to a piece of thin chain, and the chain to the lines and ropes he had gathered during the past month and strung together and coiled in a wine barrel. None of the lines were the same size or length, but they were all very heavy.
"I'll catch a
pez espada
as big as the boat," he said as we made our way out of the kelp and started off toward the island. I kept the compass in my lap while we rowed and looked at it from time to time to make sure we were going in the right direction, for we could no longer see the Island of the Blue Dolphins.
The wind was light and the waves had not built up yet. Dolphins came and played around the boat, back and forth across our bow. We saw five whales moving south, blowing fountains of mist in the air. Two flying fish came crashing aboard and Mando fastened one on his big hook and let out some of his line from the barrel.
"I'll catch an
espada
as big as the boat," Mando said.
"What will you do with one that big?"
"Tow it home and haul it up on the beach for everyone to see."
"You forget that we are headed for the island, not for home," I reminded him. "Nor to catch
espadas.
"
It was clear to me that he thought of our voyage as a chance to fish and of little else.
He picked up the whaling harpoon, which he had brought along, and stopped rowing to brandish it over his head like a sword.
Far out, behind us, as he was brandishing the harpoon, I saw a fin. It was large and shining and caught the morning sun. It was moving slowly toward us, smoothly, like a knife cutting through the water. Then it slowly sank and I thought of it no more.
Mando put his harpoon down in a handy place, should he need it.
The sun was warm and a light wind came up, which felt good. My hands hurt and I tried different ways of holding the oar. Mando did the same and we went along very slowly for a while. But I watched the compass and kept it pointing right, as Captain Nidever had explained to me.
Mando had a bare foot on the line where it ran out from the barrel. The line began to move and he took his foot away and grabbed hold of it.
"I think," he said and stopped suddenly. The line was moving in his hand. "I think I have something. Maybe Señor Espada."
"I saw a fin a while ago," I said.
"Where?"
"Behind us."
"Why did you not say you saw a fin?"
"Because it disappeared before I could speak."
"That is no reason."
"We are not here to fish for
espadas.
That is a reason."
As I spoke, Mando pitched forward, holding tightly to the line.
"Let go!" I shouted.
The line was ripped from his grasp or else he would have been yanked overboard.
"
Espada
"! he gasped.
The barrel that held the coiled line began to jump. Then it turned over. I reached out and wrapped my arms around it. Mando wrapped his arms around me. The line made a hissing noise as it came out of the barrel.
"How much is left?" Mando said.
My face was close to the barrel and I could see the coils of line clearly. "Less than half."
The boat, as we stopped rowing, began to rock. It turned its beam to the waves that had come up and that made it rock worse.
"I'll hold the barrel," I said to Mando. "Take the oars and turn the bow into the wind."
He unloosened his hold on me and took up the oars. The boat righted itself.
The line was singing now. There was less than a third of it left.
"Brace yourself," I shouted to Mando.
At the same time I wedged the barrel under the forward thwart and held it there, with my feet braced against an oak rib.
Before we left Mando had bored a hole in the bottom of the barrel, passed the line through the hole and tied a double knot. There was no way the line could come free.
The last loop whirred past my ear. There was a jar and the whole boat shivered, as if we had struck a rock. The line was taut as iron but it did not break. I clung to the barrel that was wedged against the thwart, using all my strength. Mando kept our bow into the wind. The pull on the line grew steady and now we were moving slowly toward the island.
"Maybe he will tow us to where we want to go," Mando said. "I'll speak to Zando and he will speak to Señor Espada."
He said something under his breath and made a sign with three fingers. The great fish moved toward the island in a straight line. He was swimming deep but straight for the Island of the Blue Dolphins.
To ease the strain I asked Mando to throw a double rope around the barrel and tie it down. Then I let go of the barrel and took hold of the line. It was as thick through as my little finger and big and rough.
The wind shifted and the waves grew stronger. We started to take water aboard. We bailed as best we could and kept the water ankle deep.
The sun was overhead. It was hot and bounced off the sea. We were moving slower than we could row, but we moved. Then the line slanted at a different angle. It moved straight down and swung the boat around. We were now headed in the direction of Santa Cruz, which we had left at dawn.
After a time the line slackened. I pulled on it, putting a dozen coils and more back in the barrel again. Then a dozen more.
"We have lost him," said Mando.
"No, he is coming up. He is coming toward the boat."
The fish came on. The barrel was half full of line now. But there must have been three hundred feet out.
"Does he come still?" Mando asked.
"Still, but not fast."
"It is big," he said.
"Maybe a marlin?"
"Too early for the señor. I have never seen him here in June. Nor has anyone. He comes from the south only when the sea is warm."
"How big do you think he is?"
We had now been hooked up to him since soon after dawn and now the sun was on its way into the west.
"He must be immense, Zia."
"How immense?"
"As big as three big men. If he was not, he would not pull us all over the ocean."
Mando knew more about the
pez espadas
than any fisherman at the Mission. He could tell them just by their fins when they lay far off sunning themselves.
The heavy line quit coming. I braced my feet against the ribs of the boat and pulled. We pulled together. But the fish slowly took the line out of our hands and then out of the barrel again.
"There is no more line left and he now pulls us," I said. "There has been a strain on the barrel all day. It might collapse sometime."
"I selected a barrel I have used before and have faith in," Mando said. "It is made of oak that is an inch in thickness. And it has five iron bands around it. It will hold as long as the line holds and that will be a long time. Make yourself comfortable and have patience. He will tire before we do."
I was tired already. My hands were bleeding.
"Place them in the water," Mando said. "But one at a time. I have a heavy load up here." He was braced at the bow, with the line looped once around the bit. "The salt water makes them feel better. Worse for a while, then better."
"I do not feel them at all," I said. "They are numb. They are not mine. They belong to someone else."
"Not to me. I already have a pair that are numb."
We rounded the kelp bed at the south point of Santa Cruz, moving slowly. It was better now. The sun was on my back and not in my eyes, and the water was not so rough. But I was tired and very angry.
"Remember again we did not come to fish for
espadas,
" I said. "I am going to cut the line. Then we will turn around and go ashore and in the morning start for the island once more."
"You will cut the line with what?" Mando asked. "I have the knife. I have it in my belt. Perhaps you can cut the line with your teeth. They are big like the fish's teeth and you have many of them."
The drag stopped and the line no longer slanted out.
"He is going down. That is a good sign," said Mando.
He unloosened the line looped on the bit and we both took it in hand over hand.
"He is under us now," Mando said. "And coming up. Slow. But he comes."
We peered over the side of the boat and watched for him in the water that was clear but a deep blue.
Chapter 6
N
IGHTFALL
had come on gently. There was no wind and the sky was clear except for pink streaks in the west where the sun had been. I was trailing one hand in the cool water. Then I shifted across the thwart and trailed my other hand. They were still numb but they did not hurt so much and the blood had stopped.