Maelstrom (9 page)

Keoki, having literally taken the turtle by the shell, was emboldened enough to ask the question. “Sacred Honu, how did you and the others happen to learn to change from sea creatures to land?”

CHAPTER 12

T
HE ELEVEN TURTLES,
two humans, and two selkies—plus a number of otters who were busy chattering and splashing each other and were not paying any attention at all to the others—had been swimming out to sea. But as the small Honu answered Keoki’s question, the other turtles paused to swim in a circle around the small Honu and Keoki, Ke-ola, Murel, and Ronan.

The Honu’s Story

Here is how it was. Long time ago we always had the sea to swim in, the warm bright sea full of delicious things to eat and soft clean beaches to lay our eggs. No Honu ever went hungry and the food in the sea was so good, few among the other sea folk preyed upon us, for our shells were hard and our bite was harder. We lived long and became wise and numerous as grains of sand on the beaches.

Then men came and found us easy to catch and less dangerous than Manos or stingrays or other animals. They ate us and thought us tasty and thus we were doomed. They used our very shells as bowls from which to scoop our poor flesh, then made our shells into implements. Other creatures stole our eggs too, but the people harvested so many that our young did not hatch into the world.

One day a whole family came to take the eggs, a mama, a papa, and their young, a baby. The mama laid the baby on the sand while she helped her husband collect the eggs. They were laughing and talking and didn’t notice the big bird circling overhead. He heard the baby laughing to herself and saw her waving her arms and legs around, playing with her toes. He thought she looked tasty and swooped down to get her.

Most times if we saw a bird like that when we were on the beach with our eggs, we’d make a circle around them so the bird couldn’t get at them. We saw the bird. We made a circle. That day five of us had been watching the people take our eggs. We could do nothing about that. But we could keep that bird from taking another young thing. We circled close around that human child. The bird screamed with anger when he saw he couldn’t get her, and her parents looked up and drove him away. Then they thought we were trying to hurt their child. When we moved away and they saw that she was fine, they were glad. They thanked us and were surprised when we talked back and told them they were doing to us what we would not let the bird do to their daughter. They put back the eggs and promised that they would tell their families what had happened and what we said. After that, those people were our family.

That was good. They sheltered and protected us from others among them who did not revere us. If not for them, we might have all perished.

The Honus collectively gave the sigh hiss the twins had come to know as a Honu’s expression of frustration or relief.

Soon they themselves were preyed upon by other men who took their lands and waters and harvested the living things they contained as if by right. Again our people saved some of us, though many more were lost. Then the newcomers built great nests that shat poison into our waters. Sores and growths worse than barnacles covered our skins, our shells grew soft, and we died in great numbers. Many wise elders who had escaped hunting died from this poison. But we could do nothing to save ourselves because our homes were in the sea and all the sea had become poisoned.

Then one day a clutch of eggs hatched young who looked strange and behaved differently from all of their ancestors. Perhaps the poison changed them or perhaps the forces that created them took pity, knowing that if they did as forebears had done, they would not survive long in the world. They had strong stumpy feet that carried them easily across the land. They grew hard heavy shells that could shield them from the sun and hide their tender parts from enemies. But they could not join their parents or the other remaining Honus in the sea. They were too heavy and their stumpy feet did not let them swim as easily as flippers or webbed feet.

In time some mated and laid their own eggs, but others, remembering what they had been, yearned toward the sea and its dangers and found their fellow tortoises unappealing. Only the turtles of the sea pleased them when they thought to mate. But it was difficult for the sea Honu to go ashore to mate, and so the land tortoises jumped back into the sea. They would have drowned, and perhaps some did, but some part of their beings recalled what they had been and changed them to it once more. In this way, more turtles were born, some starting life on the land, some in the sea. We who change are the descendants of the tortoises who returned to the sea. The children of the tortoises who mated with other tortoises on the land produced only land creatures who could not breathe the sea. Eggs that hatched into sea turtles who returned to the sea never changed into land creatures.

This was their bad luck. Those who could not change died off and only we who can survived.

Murel thought about the story for a moment, then said,
While I don’t want to be rude or anything, it seems to me that a change that is as difficult to make as yours is not a very useful one. You need quite a lot of help to make it, after all.

The Honu gave a frustrated hiss.
That is true. But it is also true that change is usually more difficult than not changing. It is true as well that changing often takes help. Our change has served its purpose. We have survived a long time.

Ah, so the story had a moral, Murel thought. Overall, the Honu’s tale was a bit like a Petaybean song.

After the story, all of the other Honus had things to say.
Basically you have it straight, young one, but the way I heard it, we started on the land and then went to the sea,
one said.

Yes, and I distinctly remember,
said one whose mental voice was old and creaky,
that some of the ones who stayed in the sea turned into something else—warthogs, was it? Octopuses? Let me think now. Maybe it was jellyfish.

It’s been a long trip, Grandfather,
said another turtle, just as big but sounding much younger.
Let’s give it a rest now, shall we? The youngster got it mostly right.

No, no, not octopuses or jellyfish,
the older turtle continued, correcting himself.
Could have been clams, though. Or lobsters or crabs. Shells, you know. Our sort will always have an affinity for shells.

Sky swam up with a dozen or more sea otters.
Are you going to the volcano, river seals? Otters like to go there for the giant white clams.

Ronan said,
I guess with no deep sea otters there to object, the sea otter cousins can have all the clams they want.

Deep sea otters do not care how many clams sea otters take,
one of the sea otters replied.
Deep sea otters give clams to sea otters.

How can that be?
Murel asked.
The deep sea otters’ den was buried by the volcano. We threw clamshell leis down to them, remember?

The sea otter somersaulted in the water and came right side up facing her.
That may be, but there are still deep sea otters living out there. Maybe all of them did not live in the strange den. Maybe some swam away.

Maybe so,
Murel replied, feeling a bit excited but also a little worried. The deep sea otters’ “den” had resembled an odd human city, or the ruins of one. A very unotter-like presence sent thoughts from within, and the city had seemed impenetrable to Ronan and her. Still, the deep sea otters, or whatever they were, had saved her da when he was injured. That made them good, didn’t it?

Ronan caught her line of thinking.
Unless they were the ones who hurt him to begin with,
he said.

Yeah,
she said.
There is that.

How big is the volcano now?
Ronan asked the otters.

Big. Bigger than before,
was the answer.
But quiet now.

Perhaps it’s done,
Murel mused.
Perhaps it made the island and settled down so Ke-ola’s people can move there soon.

It should be safe to swim out there now.

Yes, but we promised Mother we wouldn’t.

I know, but if the deep sea otters are still alive, someone should warn them about the Manos. We won’t be able to swim out there safely once they’re let loose, so we’d better do it now.

You don’t think we’ll be safe around the Manos? They did promise not to harm us.

You trust them?

Not really.

Me neither. So on the whole, what do you think Mum or Da would do in our position, if they knew all the facts? Would they just leave these deep sea otters or whatever they were who saved Da to face the sharks without warning?

Otters could warn them,
Sky said.

Only if otters remembered to warn them while they were harvesting clams,
Murel replied. In some ways she didn’t trust otters either, Sky being an exception. She and Ronan liked to play, but compared to otters, they were party poopers. Sky might have been the only one among them who was a sky otter, but they were all a bit flighty.

It’s not like there’s time to go back and ask permission, even if we could,
Ronan rationalized.
We promised to keep them secret, after all.

Just a quick trip, then,
she agreed. The volcanic flow had covered so much of the ocean floor that the closest approach to where the “den” of the deep sea otters had been was nearer than before. They had discovered this when they went to pay their respects to the presumably dead denizens with clamshell leis, as Ke-ola had showed them.

The Honus, usually patient creatures, were chilled by the wintry waters close to the polar shore.

We wish to go to the new home,
one of them told the seals, otters, and the brothers.

Ke-ola and Keoki, back on shore, looked unhappy.
We want to go too but we can’t,
they said.

If you are too weak to swim all that way, grandsons, you may hold onto our shells and we will tow you,
the Honus offered.

We can’t,
the boys said.
It’s too cold. We’d freeze if we swam in that very long.

Ronan and Murel agreed that the only way they could all go together was to find the brothers a boat. Murel and Sky turned north and swam along the coastline, while Ronan and some of the sea otters turned south. But they discovered that the entire length of the shoreline was abandoned. Where normally there might be boats and nets and small villages or camps, now the sea was bounded only by rocks, drowned trees, and sheer cliffs. The water was higher than at any time in Petaybee’s history.

I know the volcano made high water and waves, but I can’t believe people moved so far from the sea,
Murel called to her brother.
They make their livelihoods from it! Surely they can’t be far. Maybe we should change and walk inland a bit and see if we can spot anybody. Of course, if we do find a boat, we’d have to carry it back to the shore. I guess Ke-ola and Keoki should help us search. If we’re not around to guide them they could get lost.

And we couldn’t?
Ronan asked.
We should have asked Mum and Da about this sort of thing. They’d know.

So will Sky’s hundreds of relatives. So, race you back to the river. Last one there’s an otter’s uncle.

The twins raced through the icy waves, enjoying the freedom of the sea as they had the rivers. The Honus waited for them near the river mouth. They were not pleased with the new plan.

It is too cold to wait here. We must swim to the new warm water. You have fur and no shells to shatter in the frozen tide. We must go now.

We’ll not be long,
she told the turtles.
We’ll just change and get into the dry suits and—
She stopped talking to the Honus and said to Ronan,
That’s it! The dry suits! We can let Ke-ola and Keoki wear them. They keep out the wet, but they keep out the cold and the wind too.

The suits had hoods, mittens, and booties that could be attached as firmly as a space suit’s boots, gauntlets, and helmet. They were also expandable to fit the twins as they grew.

Honu, if you would tell Ke-ola to take the packs from the harnesses strapped to our backs,
Ronan said,
he and Keoki can wear our dry suits to keep warm and dry on the trip out to the volcano. Since Murel and I are in seal form, we’ll not be needing them till we return from the volcano.

Ke-ola and Keoki did as the Honus instructed and removed the twins’ packets from their harnesses. The two boys, though older and larger than either twin, easily skinned into the suits.

Then, booties, gloves, and hoods secured, they waded into the water. The largest of the Honus waited for them where the river became the sea. Each boy grabbed the top of a Honu shell and was carried away as easily as driftwood.

With the Honus in the lead, Ke-ola and Keoki trailing in their wake, and Ronan and Murel following, they set off for the volcano. The sea otters did not go. Sky did not want to go either, at night and in salt water, which was not what a former river otter preferred, but he could not bear to be left behind, so in the end he too hitched a ride on the shell of a Honu.

“Their” Honu, the small one, was a little slow since he didn’t have as much paddle power as the larger ones. Before long Ronan surged ahead of him. Shortly thereafter, he amused himself by letting off a continual stream of the snore-fart noises he used for sonar.

Ro!
she called, her head aching with the force it took to get through to him.
Cut it out. You’re not even stopping long enough to let the sound bounce back to you.

Am too,
he said.
For your information there is a sizable iceberg off our bow at two o’clock.

That’s very interesting but we’re not ships. Even if we ran into it we wouldn’t hurt ourselves. We can’t go that fast.

Ouch! For your information, you can so hurt yourself if you run into this iceberg while you’re listening to your stupid sister instead of the echoes from your sonar. Ran right into it.