Maura Hanrahan: Tsunami

“Oh Herbert, what will we do? What about the children?”

His answer was gruff. “Never mind, never mind now,” he said. “They’ll be all right. Don’t be frightened.”

But Nan’s heart crept up in her chest into her throat and mouth. All around her, women cried and the faces of men grew white as snow. They were deathly afraid for their children in Point au Gaul, High Beach, Taylor’s Bay, and Lord’s Cove. It would be at least an hour before any of them could get home. They walked in and out of the hall, letting their gravy solidify and their potatoes harden, as they waited for the next onslaught from the Atlantic.

It came, as they knew it would from the behaviour of the sea, but it was not as fierce as the first wave and the houses on the lower ground in Lamaline were empty now. When it receded this time, the people in the Orange Lodge were more confident it would not return and they were right.

Jessie Hipditch had watched the whole thing and could not contain the thumping in her chest. By now, she was convinced the sight of baby Elizabeth on the walk to Lamaline from Point au Gaul was a dark omen, maybe even a token. She pulled on her raven hair as she rushed up to Nan.

“Are you going home?” she asked. “We’re going now.”

Nan nodded and Herbert agreed. “Don’t worry,” Herbert told Jessie. “There was enough warning that everyone got out of their houses on time. There’s only been property damage.”

Jessie’s husband, David, joined the trio by now and he gave a quick nod in agreement but Nan could see the worry flush on his face.

“Let’s get going,” she said.

Out of habit, Herbert picked up their suitcase, which contained only one cake by now. The four of them discussed the safest route home and decided they would stick to high land. They said quick good-byes and left the hall. They crossed the bog on high ground, rather than risk walking through Lamaline itself, on the off-chance that the seawater wasn’t done rushing in.

Traversing the bog was hard work and cold in November. All four were soaked to their knees by the time they made it to the road that would take them to Point au Gaul by an inland route. Nan tried to chat, but while Herbert made small talk, she noticed that Jessie and David were silent the whole time. They reached the road first and then walked as fast as they could in bogwatersoaked clothing to their village.

On the way, they passed a Lamaline man with his granddaughter in his arms and his daughter walking wordlessly alongside him. Nan’s mind was cloudy and she did not speak to him; five minutes later, she couldn’t say if he was an apparition or not.

When Nan and Herbert reached Salmonier Bridge, they stopped. Its great wooden piers had been washed away by the tsunami . Farther, what remained of the bridge was tipped at such an angle that they could cross it only by clinging to the rail, which was now on the top of the bridge. The moon bathed the land in a brilliant glow by now and Nan could see Jessie and David on the wrecked structure, quickly pushing on.

“Well, we’ll have to cross it, too,” Herbert said. Nan nodded. By the time they crossed the creaky bridge, Jessie and David were out of sight. As the harbour came within view, they could see it was chock-a-block with wreckage. It was as if a half dozen ships had gone aground.

“Well, my boat is gone,” Herbert said. He sounded nonchalant; indeed, he had expected this after the events he had witnessed in Lamaline, but Nan felt a catch in her throat.

Than a man appeared out of the darkness and shouted, “Stop!”

Nan hesitated; she wanted to ask him what he wanted, but Herbert said, “Never mind, come on!” He had just felt the weight of a boulder in his belly and he suddenly knew that something much worse than property damage had happened in Point au Gaul.

Then he and Nan passed a woman who was moving slowly and crying.

“Did you notice that woman, Herbert?” Nan said. “I wonder why she’s crying?”

But Herbert, weighed down by the weight in his stomach, didn’t answer. He rushed into the village with his wife. In the moonlight their eyes took in the destruction along the waterfront: the wrecked stages, stores, gears, traps, and boats. Herbert could form no words. Not even the sight of the wave action in Lamaline had prepared him for this. He grabbed Nan’s elbow and turned up toward their home.

Nan’s brother, Chesley, met them at the gate. Nan saw that he was alone.

“Where are the children?” she screamed.

“They’re safe. They’re with mother on the hill,” he answered quickly. “I brought them up and came back here to meet you.”

Nan’s body went soft. She hardly heard Chesley explain how he barely had time to get the children to their grandmother’s house on high land. Her heart ached for them. She had to see them. She turned to Herbert. “Let’s go to the children,” she said.

“You can’t go, Nan,” Chesley said. “The bridge across the brook is gone.”

Herbert saw the wetness in his wife’s eyes. “You stay here with Chesley and I’ll go get the children,” he said.

Nan let out a heavy sigh. She went inside to put the kettle on. Even though Chesley told her there had been no damage to the house, she wanted to check for herself. She wondered if Jessie and David’s children were all right.

An hour earlier, eight-year-old Ruby Hillier, Nan and Herbert’s daughter, had been doing her homework at the kitchen table. Her brothers Leslie and Lawson sat alongside her: ten-year-old Leslie doing his sums and five-year-old Lawson doodling on a slate. Their uncle Chesley had already put the baby to bed.

All of a sudden Ruby heard a thunderous noise, not unlike the one that had accompanied the earth tremor earlier that evening. Ruby jumped up from her chair and ran to the window where she raised the blind and peered into the dusk. She blinked at the sight that greeted her; it was a white mass tumbling toward her house.

“Oh my!” Ruby cried. “Look at the sheep!”

She was stunned at how fast they were moving. They were half way up the meadow across the road from their house.

Chesley joined his niece at the window.

“I don’t believe they’re sheep,” he said as it dawned on him that his niece had mistaken the foamy whitecaps of the huge waves for sheep. Moments later sea water surrounded the Hillier home.

Then the general panic began. From outside, Ruby heard a roar. Chesley ran into the back bedroom to fetch baby Cyril. With the child in his left arm, Chesley shooed Ruby and the boys out the door. The little group stopped dead at the front door; the porch was filled with frigid water. They stepped gingerly over it and managed to keep their feet dry. Then they rushed up the hill, Uncle Chesley looking behind constantly. He feared another wall of water was on its way.

Near the top of the hill, they met their grandfather, whose face was wet with tears.

“Grandpa, what’s wrong?” Ruby asked. “What’s the matter?”

The old man didn’t answer, but Chesley said, “I don’t know. I suppose he’s confused.”

When the group reached the safety of the high ground, Ruby looked at the village below. It was empty of people, all of whom had rushed to the top of the hill. But the little girl’s face whitened at what she saw. The harbour was blocked with broken boats, stages and flakes that had crashed into the water, and houses that the giant wave had torn down. On top of the hill old Mrs. Walsh stood making the sign of the cross. Her family was gathered around her, intoning the “Hail Marys” of the rosary. Three-yearold Magdalen Walsh sat at her grandmother’s feet; the child was wet to her hips with sea water.

“I’ll never forget this sight,” Ruby told her older brother, Leslie. “I wonder if anyone died.”