John Dalmas: Return to Fanglith

The water seemed deeper than usual. The wind was piling it up, and it was up to my shoulders. I knew Jenoor didn't swim very well, and my first thought was to find and get hold of her, but I couldn't see her. She's on the other side of the boat, I thought, or under it. Somehow I'd come up on its upwind side. The next thing I knew, she surfaced a few feet in front of me, swimming clumsily, as the boat righted itself. It was full of water.

I struck out for it, and that's when I discovered that the big wave hadn't been big at all. The next one was the big one, and steep because the water was so shallow. It lifted us both, but we went up and down almost in place, because it wasn't breaking yet. The skiff, on the other hand, got carried thirty feet farther from me. The next wave was close behind and bigger still, and it was breaking. I just had time to grab Jenoor when it crashed over us, carrying us tumbling and confused in the general direction of the island. I was scared to death I'd lose hold of her.

I wasn't even sure the waves would take us to the island, because we'd been on the windward side, but off toward the south end. With my free arm, I tried to swim to my left. The next breaker caught us and drove us forward again, sprawling and out of control, and then we were in waist-deep water. My arm was around Jenoor. I lurched to my feet, helping her up. We were inside the breaker line now, not more than a couple of hundred feet from the mangroves, about even with the island's tip. I could see the skiff, awash but still upright, sideways and seventy or eighty feet ahead of us. The wind and waves were pushing it a lot faster than we could wade or swim, and unless we were luckier than I had any right to expect, it was going to miss the island and go out to sea.

Let it, I thought, and kept wading toward the island with my hand clamped around Jenoor's wrist. There were, after all, priorities, and I could always make a raft.

The rain hit then like a wall, and the wind slammed our backs, knocking us off our feet for a moment, while a rip current tried to take us past the island. But the water was shallow enough that once our feet found the bottom again, the rip couldn't sweep us away. In a minute or two, whipped by hard-blowing rain, we were clambering through and over the prop roots at the edge of the mangroves. We didn't stop until we were on solid land, scrambling as if something was after us.

Then we just lay on the ground for a minute, holding on to one another. The rain fell on us as if there weren't any treetops overhead, and we didn't get up until I realized I was starting to feel a lot more than just protective of Jenoor.

The wind hardly penetrated the forest, but it sure whipped the treetops. They were all bending southeast. The rain was incredible. When we got to camp, our cistern, the plastite chest, was already full and running over. All five of us crouched inside the shelter, no one speaking for a while. Finally Deneen said two words: "The boat?"

"Gone," I said. "We're lucky we didn't go with it."

She nodded and reached over, squeezing my hand.

After a few minutes though, we stopped feeling awed by the storm. Or maybe the word is intimidated. "No boat," Deneen said. "Maybe it is time to think about leaving this place. We could get pretty hungry trying to live on lizard."

"We could make a raft," I said. "But maybe this storm is just the first of a season of them." Again I turned to Piet. "What do you think?"

"We've been waiting ten weeks," he said, "almost eleven. And I've got a contact or two who might have a lead on a cutter."

I knew when he said it that he wasn't feeling optimistic.

"But let's give Klentis and Aven another five days, at least," he finished. "If they don't get here by then, we'll try our luck."

The storm lasted about an hour, then stopped almost as suddenly as it began, leaving us with sunshine, and water dripping from the trees. If we were to stay another five days, we'd need to keep fishing, so I went out and cut poles to make a raft with. Then, it still being our day to fish, Jenoor and I went back out. There were no more thunderheads to the west, but we stayed within a hundred yards of the island anyway. The raft wasn't as quick as the skiff, and we had only push poles to move her with.

We were lucky we'd had four sets of fishing tackle.

If the fish had given us almost no action earlier that day, this time we had more than we needed within half an hour: a pair of sand moochers more than thirty-five inches each.

That evening, instead of talking about stealing a cutter, we talked about where we'd go in it. Piet told us about a planet we might try-one that dad had favored. He called it Grinder.

"It used to be a mining world," he said. His voice was quiet, as soft as the twilight that let us see his Face but hid his expression. "There used to be deposits of very high quality heavy-metal ores in the crust. But after a few centuries they were mined out, and Grinder was too far from anywhere to make ordinary ores worth mining. By six hundred years ago the mines had shut down. Most of the people left then, but some stayed, hunting and farming, and gradually it turned into a hideout for smugglers."

"You think it would work as a rebel base then?" Deneen asked.

"It's as promising as any." He paused as if deciding whether or not to say what he said next. "Both your parents favored it, so it's the place they're most likely to go if they get off Evdash."

If they get off Evdash. It was the first time Piet had even implied an if, and the words ended the conversation. We sat together in the silent gloom for a minute or more longer before anyone moved. Then Tarel got up without saying anything and went out to his hammock. A moment later Deneen went to hers, and then Jenoor, my eyes following her. That left only Piet and me squatting in the shelter, and when I turned to him, his eyes were on me.

"Piet," I murmured, "I need to talk to you. Privately."

"Go ahead."

"I need more privacy than this," I said, and got up. Piet got up too, and followed me as I walked to the floater. It was parked outside the repellent field, so we got in and shut the door quickly to keep most of the bugs outside.

"Okay," he said when we'd both sat down, "let's have it."

"I want you to marry Jenoor and me. You're the senior member-the leader and magistrate in this community. If you say we're married, we are."

"You've talked to Jenoor about this?"

"No. I wanted to get your agreement first."

"How old is she?" he asked.

"You know how old she is. She's sixteen. And a half."

"What's the legal marriageable age for a girl on Evdash?"

"Eighteen. Seventeen with a parent's consent. What's the legal age in the Federation? The Empire?"

"Eighteen. Sixteen with a parent's consent."

"Or a guardian's?" I asked.

"Or a guardian's."

"So there's no natural law that says eighteen. Only legal arbitraries that some past legislatures passed."

"Not all laws make sense," he replied. "But they're the stuff of civilization. Unless a law is actually destructive and can't be changed, it ought to be obeyed. Decent laws, even if they seem a bit foolish, are what keep a society from coming apart."

His words surprised me. I hadn't expected them from someone who'd been a rebel most of his life. I could see what he meant though, even if I felt sure it didn't apply in this case. I sat there waiting for something to come to me that would convince him, but all I could think of was how I'd felt when Jenoor and I had gotten ashore that afternoon, safe from the sea, and I'd lain there with my arms around her. It had felt like my heart was in my throat, and I'd wanted to keep her safe forever. Among other things.

Piet was the one who broke the silence. "All right. So let's say I'm her guardian now; I guess I am. Give me a reason it's all right for you two to get married."