Leslie Silko - Gardens in the Dunes

That night as she lay in her berth, a bit unwell from the sway of the ship, she listened to the beautiful rain splash the ship’s deck. Rain made her think of the old gardens and Mama and Grandma and Sister, who loved her so much. Tears filled her eyes; she missed them so much! Would she ever find them?

The dark heaving ocean was beginning to lift and drop the ship in a most alarming manner; all water was alive, she knew, but this dark salt water was bigger and more powerful than any freshwater. This ship and everyone on it belonged to the restless dark water until they reached land. Indigo kept the parrot’s cage in the berth with her next to the wall so the ship’s rocking did not overturn the cage. The parrot seemed unconcerned; he slept perched on one foot with his head tucked under his wing. She still didn’t know the name the parrot wanted to be called.

Indigo pulled the blanket up to her chin and watched the cabin and its contents move up and down. As the rolling of the ship increased, a pencil rolled off the little writing table Hattie used; the hairbrush slid one way and then the other on the shelf below the mirror. She watched as one of Hattie’s shoes tipped out of its rack in the cabin closet and began to slide back and forth on the floor. How funny to see these objects suddenly come alive and move themselves around the cabin!

The great rhythmic voice of Ocean resounded through the ship’s steel skin; Ocean boasted she made great winds with her waves; the Earth herself was moved by her waves. Ocean was Earth’s sister. Indigo felt the sadness overtake her again.

I have a sister too, but this ship and you, Ocean, are taking me farther from her, Indigo whispered. She imagined Sister Salt on the depot platform in Needles, searching for her among the boarding school students returning home for the summer. Now a great ocean lay between them. Her plan for an easy way home had taken her much farther away. Tears filled her eyes and she cried softly into her pillow: Please help me, Ocean! Send your rainy wind to my sister with this message: I took the long way home, but I’m on my way. Please don’t worry.

Indigo repeated the message aloud and the parrot opened his eyes and ruffled his feathers as he studied her. Even in the dim light of the cabin she could see the bird’s pale gray eyes on her. Soon the parrot would let her know his name and allow her to hold him. How much fun she would have with the three of them — parrot, monkey, and cat! The letter gave no description of the kitten, but as she drifted off to sleep, Indigo imagined she was black with a white face, white belly, and four white feet.

Hours later, after Hattie was asleep, Indigo began to feel an odd pressure in her ears and head; then her stomach began to feel unsettled. The pressure in her head tightened and suddenly she was about to vomit. She woke Hattie, who sent for the ship’s doctor and ordered a basin of ice water and wet cloths for Indigo’s forehead. Give the child a day or two and she’ll get her sea legs, the ship’s doctor advised after he administered syrup of paregoric. By morning she only felt worse.

While Hattie cared for the seasick child in one cabin, Edward retired to the other cabin to review his notes on citrus culture, especially the procedures for rooting slips cut from trees. He needed to know the best way to pack the citron slips he obtained for their long journey.

A day later the seas were calm and the sky was bright blue, but Indigo still felt every slow-rolling motion of the ship. Hattie coaxed her to swallow lemon water and plain bread. Throughout her seasickness, Indigo insisted the parrot’s brass cage be kept in the corner of her bunk near her feet; even when she was nauseous, Indigo never failed to remove the cage cover in the morning and replace it at night. She found if she talked to the parrot the nausea wasn’t as bad. Indigo told the parrot all about Mama and Sister Salt and the old gardens where Grandma Fleet rested next to her little apricot trees to nourish them.

The parrot did not seem interested and sometimes tucked his head under his wing while she talked. She knew the parrot was upset to leave its home to be bounced around in a small travel cage. Worse yet, before the parrot was put into the travel cage, Susan directed the gardener to clip the bird’s wing feathers to prevent the bird from flying away. One feather bled and had to be plucked. The parrot blamed Indigo; she could tell by the expression in his eyes.

Fortunately Mrs. Abbott sent along a two-pound tin of ginger cookies, which, with weak tea, were all Indigo could tolerate in her stomach. The parrot did not touch his fruits or seeds, so Indigo fed him bits of ginger cookie, careful to keep her fingertips well clear of the sharp curved beak. Even in the dimness of the ship cabin, the parrot’s feathers were brilliant, almost as if they glowed with their own light. Only in a rainbow had Indigo seen such shades of emerald, turquoise, yellow-gold, and blue.

When she felt better, she opened the cage door, but the parrot only gripped the perch tighter.

“Look, I won’t hurt you,” she said, holding out both hands palms-up to show she meant no harm. The parrot ignored the open cage door, so Indigo left it ajar and opened the book Hattie had been reading to her earlier, stories of the old British Isles, stories about the dun cow and the fairy dog. There was a picture of the dun cow encircled by curious standing stones on the hill where she appeared one day when the people were starving. The dun cow promised each family a bucket of milk every day if the people agreed to take only one bucket each. But a greedy person who thought no one would notice began to fill a second bucket, and when he did, there was flash of lightning and the dun cow disappeared.

As Indigo turned the pages to find the next picture, she glanced over at the parrot cage and saw the bird had climbed out and was sitting on the cage top. Delighted, Indigo put down the book and began to talk to the parrot to try to coax him to come to her, but the bird wanted no part of her. He fluffed and preened his feathers while he refused to obey, so Indigo turned back to the book and the picture that showed the arrival of the white fairy dog just as the family hurried off to bed. In the picture was evidence the family had been sitting around the fire, enjoying the evening — a man’s pipe was still lit on the table; a child’s doll and toy ball lay in the middle of the floor. The family had dropped everything to prepare the food, drink, and fire for the visitors about to arrive. In the story, the family could hear the fairies, but the only one they could see was the white dog. Indigo was enjoying the details of the picture, picking out everyday objects she recognized, when she glanced over at the top of the brass cage but saw no parrot.

Immediately she regretted opening the cage door; just because the bird couldn’t fly didn’t mean he couldn’t walk or climb. She wanted to give him his freedom because she was his friend, but now he was gone. She looked carefully in every corner and behind every valise and trunk; just as she began to despair, she thought she saw Hattie’s calfskin train case move in the closet alcove. There he was with his beak on the corner of the case. Indigo knelt to pull the case away from the parrot and felt a sharp prick in her left knee. Scattered on the floor near the train case were small brass tacks that used to decorate the leather; the appearance of the case was ruined! Indigo pushed the train case to the back of the closet and began to try to lure the parrot back into the cage. Although only six ginger cookies remained, Indigo broke one in half and put half inside the open cage. The parrot hesitated as if he knew she planned to close the cage door the instant he went inside, but the piece of ginger cookie was irresistible. The parrot ignored Indigo and nibbled the cookie as she shut the cage door.