Joyful Storm IP 17

Seth and Tristan sat, or stood, or clung, or whatever you call it when you have both feet gripping different ropes, your hands and tail gripping other ropes, and your bottom on a rope… at the very top of a mast. Tristan was in ecstasy. The last week had been about the best week of his entire life. He supposed that all children his age would be thrilled by a trip on a big boat (or Schip, as he had been warned to call it) but, to actually become a Visser!

Above all he gloried in the diving. Swimming was great, and he did that much, much better now than before. But the diving! Apparently the Knappen he was with had been holding back on him. For most of the time they were normally in the water they engaged in diving. And not just diving, but fishing. The men and boys, once the first few minutes of fun were over, would dive, dive deep, into schools of fish. And, with their specialized hands, they would dart out and grab and hold a fish. Then they would swim under the boat and hand the fish, however many they could grab (usually one, but often two) to their Wife or Mother or Sister or Daughter. The women and girls, on the other side of the boat, would take the fish over to the ramp, where they would throw them in. A couple of women were always told off to the hold, to pack the fish in. (When swimming was over the women and girls would spend the next couple of hours working the fish: cutting, gutting, salting, etc.)

At first Tristan had found it very hard to catch fish. He had to learn to dive, stay down, get into the school of fish, and then to dart out, quickly, with his hands together propelled by a thrust from his feet. Seth hadn't known much better, but the two had had fun learning. Sean, now an inseparable companion (and one who had admitted Wynforr’s role in the transformation once he had been able to get the two alone) was a demon for fishing, and rarely missed a grab; usually ending up with both hands full. Tristan and Seth, when they caught fish, took them to Sean’s Sisters. Sean had all Sisters, six of them, so some of them would fish too. It couldn't be said that Tristan and Seth added much to their workload, but it was still great fun, and good to be 'helping' with the work of the boat.

Elf didn't dive often, or much. They were so light that they tended to float. And with their skin accustomed to soaking up water from the sky, being in the water itself was uncomfortable. And the gatekeeper organ, a marvelous thing in some ways, tended to dull sensations… and diving was all about sensations. His Visserknap body, on the other hand, was designed to dive. He had a membrane over each eye that would close whenever the eye risked being contacted by water; like in a storm, spray, or in the water itself. His skin was slick and thick. The bones and things were heavier, making diving easy.

The most profound change was that various muscles under his skin would contract and change the shape of the skin, and indeed his entire body, to streamline it, leaving nothing 'sticking out', even pulling his ears flat onto his head. His lungs and body were designed to keep him in oxygen even when diving. He could stay under water for 5 minutes, easily. His body stored extra oxygen when he could breathe, and then 'slowed down' when he couldn’t, leaving him comfortable during the longest dives.

One thing that he learned, diving, was that Visserin could talk underwater! It took him a while to get used to the difference in the sounds, but he soon learned, and listened with amazement as practically the entire Schip talked to each other while they fished and played underwater.

One aspect of the entire experience that was particularly important, but that Tristan was unable to fully analyze himself, was that the absence of the gatekeeper led to him being bombarded by sensations which were, for all the other races, the stuff of life, the daily 'water' in which they swam. The gatekeeper allowed the Elf to be marvelous learners, aiding them in making decisions without confusion, and helped them get through decisions which other races would find it impossible to do. One could not, for example, torture an Elf. The gatekeeper organ would simply block the painful sensations and feelings of panic once it determined that they were unpreventable, unhelpful, and unpleasant. They would be no more than black and white writing in some filing cabinet of the brain.

But now Tristan was connected to all of his senses directly and permanently. Every sensation came immediately to him. Since they were, for the large part, pleasurable sensations, he was reveling in his experience.

Another indecipherable element was his new social sense. In addition to reveling in the sensations, he now reveled in relationships. He was able to 'swim' in new friendships and 'family' almost as easily as he could now swim in the ocean. He had had relationships before, of course, but they were dry things compared to the plunge he had now taken. Within two days he knew the names of everyone on board, and soon added who they were married to, born from, mad at, friends with, or any other relevant fact. He was invited to the hammock of a dozen other boys… invitations which he sometimes accepted, but more often reversed.

His relationship with Seth was deepened and changed. Before he had been 'interested' in Seth, and had begun to 'learn about him' with all of the various meanings that an Elf set to those words. But now he began to really 'know' him, as a person, a set of emotions, a set of abilities, values, goals, relationships. To information he added experience, to experience, intuition.

He was looking forward to today, they all were. He and Seth, joined at various times by others of the gang, were at the mast; first of all, because it was fun, but especially because they hoped to be the first to see the Pearl Islands. These were a group of dozens of small islands off the westernmost tip of the island nation. Some of the islands were almost a mile square, but most were only several meters in width. And the areas between the islands were such that oysters grew in profusion there--oysters that were known for their pearls. The tradition was that each Schip was allowed to send their crew there over the course of the very first day that they sighted the islands. So each skipper tried to get as close to the islands as they could during the night, so as to give their crew as much of the day as possible. The crew would each stake out an island, and search the area around it for oysters. Then, that night, they would shell their oysters and look for pearls, dropping meat into a pot. Everyone would gorge themselves on oyster soup, and then swim back to the Schip with their pot, and their pearls… if they were lucky enough to get any.

Seth, Tristan, and Mgwan had decided to declare themselves a group. They knew that their inexperience would probably mean that they would not get as many pearls as if they went with some Visserknappen… but they wanted to be together alone for a while. Since their trip in the swamp they hadn't had that much time together, at least together alone. Staring out at the horizon, they looked for the islands. But they were disappointed in their quest to be first. A Visser, working on the sails, with a lower perch but more experienced eyes, suddenly called out, “Land ho”.

The boys looked and looked. Finally they saw what they were looking for. They had climbed the mast before dawn and it was still fairly dark. Peering into the darkness, they made out what the crew had seen. There, just ahead and a little to the right they saw, dimly, the islands they were looking for. Not much to look at: just a blurry group of shapes.

Soon, although not soon enough to suit them, the three boys, together with most of the crew, were swimming out to the islands. They were not the fastest of swimmers, especially with Seth having to carry a pot on his head, and the other two encumbered with water skins. By the time they got close they had to go far into the group to find an island that wasn’t already taken. It wasn’t a big island; only a couple of acres across, with a large spire of rock stretching up twenty feet or so in the middle: a weather worn rock, full of sharp curves and cracks.

The three gathered some driftwood, put the pot on it, left the rest of their stuff there, and started hunting oysters. Mgwan, with his webbed feet, turned out to be an excellent oyster hunter… almost making up for Seth and Tristan’s abysmal performances. Several hours later they were sitting on the beach, taking a break and counting their oysters. They were having a marvelous time, and wished the day would never end. Suddenly Mgwan looked up and scented the air. His nose twitched, in a way peculiar to Marshmen. He leapt to his feet and he glanced around at the sky.

“What’s wrong?” Seth asked.

Mgwan didn’t answer for a minute. Then he said, “Come, climb!” He went over to the rock and tried to climb it. Seth and Tristan came over, confused, but willing.

Mgwan was having a hard time, so the other two grabbed his pants and hauled him to the top, his hands frantically grabbing at any hold he could get. From the top of the rock, looking east toward the Schip, Seth and Tristan didn’t need to ask again what was wrong. Over the sails they could see clouds; tall, black clouds, gathering and building. They could see, just at the horizon, a line of waves and wind approaching. And they could see, more significantly, that the Schip was leaving. They, too, had seen the storm coming, and their position with the islands under their lee was untenable in the light of the storm.

They climbed down and discussed their situation. Others from the islands were swimming back to the Schip, but their distance, and the fact that they weren’t the best swimmers, put that out of the question. They would have to ride out the storm, probably here. They didn’t see any islands near enough that offered any more shelter.

They examined the rock. It was easy enough to shove the pot and the water in various cracks where they would be protected. But it was more difficult to see what to do with themselves. Seth and Tristan climbed up and down over the rock and in the end they decided on a plan. But it wasn’t a plan anyone particularly liked.

There was a space, an indentation in the rock large enough to shelter all three of them. But just barely. And it was not high enough to escape all of the waves they knew were coming. They each took a large drink (the ability to drink seawater was not one of the adaptations of either Visserin or Marshmen. Marshmen could drink some nasty stuff, but nobody could survive on seawater) and then they helped Mgwan up into the indentation.

Placing him between them, each boy found places to grip. As the wind and waves increased, however, it became obvious that Mgwan, lacking in the Visserknap’s ability to grip, was becoming less and less stable. They discussed various options, then Seth and Tristan each reached out with one hand to get a strong grip on the rocks on either side of them, and with the other hand reached out and locked their hands on each other’s wrists.

As time went on, the waves grew higher and higher until almost every wave washed over them, sometimes only over their feet, at other times washing up to their waists. At first they tried to keep up a running commentary, but this became first difficult and then impossible.

Standing there, as hour passed into hour, Mgwan noticed a change come slowly over his two friends. They had long ago closed the membranes over their eyes. But now their eyes began to stare fixedly ahead. And he noticed their breathing slow dramatically. But their arms and hands remained locked and gripped, holding him tightly in place.

Hour after hour passed and Mgwan began to feel rather lonely; an odd feeling considering he had two boys holding him tightly. Unlike whatever state Seth and Tristan were in, Mgwan had to remain awake. Even though his friends were holding him fairly tightly against the rock, he didn’t think going to sleep would be a good idea.

He used the time to think. Overall he was very pleased with his decision to go with Seth, although he had been taken aback when his parents first proposed it. The trip down the river had been discouraging. He hadn’t gotten to know his employer, Seth, nearly as well as he would have liked; and he had had almost no opportunity to cook. After that had come the utter assault on Marshman ideas of family life that was the Visserin’s crew quarters. He had thought that he was going to die that first night.

But he hadn’t died, and the experience had gradually changed from impossible to merely overwhelming. He was smart enough to know that acting differently would bring more attention to himself, so he had from the first day, forced himself to just ‘go along’. And going along had gone well, to the point where he now was almost comfortable. He even, duties permitting, went swimming.

And duties he had had on Schip, at least. Everyone had taken it for granted that he would cook, and cook he had. The Schip kitchen was a bedlam, but a comfortable one, where he had gotten to use all of his skills, and learn new ones from the Schip cook… a Marshman, of course, and one with a large family. A whole section of the kitchen was curtained off for his wife and Jentain (Marshgirls)… the curtain not up to regular Marshman standards of modesty, but Mgwan knew that life amongst the others was often like that. He had even begun to entertain hopes that the Marshman would offer him a girl for his own bower, but that was probably naïve on his part.

He had felt honored, and pleased, to be chosen to go along on their trip to gather oysters. His position was more awkward than that of Tristan. Everyone expected an Elf to ‘hang around’ with his principal. They were advisors, and learners, and to learn and advise one needed to be on hand. But Mgwan was a cook and a pharmacist. And these tended to be behind-the-scenes activities.

He had been trying, as his duties permitted, to spend time with Seth. After Tristan’s transformation (and what a surprise that had been!) he had actually been able to do so. Tristan had been rather too busy, being a Visserknap, to be jealous over Seth’s time or attention. But Mgwan had had a hard time knowing exactly what to talk about even when he did get together with Seth. But still, so far, the trip had been great… up until now.

The day passed slowly, and the night even more slowly still. But as dawn approached, the wind and waves showed definite signs of lessening. A couple of hours later, Mgwan, looking down, saw that there was now free sand beneath their perch.

“Seth, Tristan, wake up!” he shouted.

Both of their eyes snapped open, questioningly.

“We can go down now,” he said, pointing downward. “There is a free area.” Nodding, they released their hold. Moving extremely stiffly, they helped him down. Then they both collapsed on the sand.

He looked at them. That’s not fair, he thought to himself. They slept the whole time! Now they’re going to nap some more, and leave me to do all the work! Oh well.

He looked around, and then remembered their stuff. They would probably need that. He sighed. He considered waking one of them up, and then decided against it. He laboriously climbed up to where they had left things. Good, the water skin was still intact. The pot was still there. Hey, even their oysters had made it, in the very wet burlap bag they had left them in! He hoped he could find some pearls, but his priority right now was food. He struggled up and down the rock, taking two trips to get everything down, the pot taking one trip all by itself.

He went to the other side of the island. There was tons of driftwood all over the place. He brought some back, and, after many unsuccessful tries (not that Marshmen were unaccustomed to working with wet wood!), finally got a fire started. As it burnt down to where it would be useful for his cooking, he went back and checked on the other two.

Seth and Tristan were now curled up, in practically a fetal position, breathing evenly but very deeply. He sat and thought for a while. And then it came to him. While he had had a hard time up on the rock, having to stay awake and all, these two had held him in position the entire time--for hours and hours. He went over and felt cautiously at Seth's arm. It was inflamed, tender, and hot. So were his legs and his other arm. It was the same with Tristan.

He realized that he was going to have to play nurse over the next couple of days (assuming that the Schip took that long to make it back). He didn’t know how far it had been blown away in the storm. Well, not an unusual position for a Marshman. It’s good that they brought one along! he said to himself, chuckling.

He set about his various tasks: making them comfortable, keeping them in the shade, spooning water into their mouths, and cooking a weak broth from the oysters they had gathered. He looked around, and found some ‘cabbages’. He knew they weren’t really cabbages, but he had heard from the Schip’s cook that they were good in a pinch. This was definitely a pinch. He added some to his soup, knowing that they included vital nutrients that weren’t found in mere oysters.

He had worried some about how to get the soup in his patients, but he needn’t have. They drank the water well, but sucked the soup down like they were starving--while staying otherwise asleep the whole time. Between them they finished all that he had made (except the part that he had already eaten). He cast about for something else to cook, to add to the oysters that he could gather easily. Too bad he wasn’t a Visser. The shallow water was teaming with fish, just begging to be caught. In the end, he made himself a sharp stick, and managed to spear some fish with that, fish which went into his stew, and were quickly devoured.

Toward the end of the day, waking up from a nap, he heard a splash and saw Sean swimming up, followed by several of ‘the gang’. It turned out that they had chosen an island even further away, and had ridden out the storm easily there. Seeing the smoke from this island, they had decided to swim over. Mgwan told them about Seth and Tristan. They hurried over, and pronounced quickly, “Exhaustion Fever”.

“What’s that?”

“Visserin get it. We can, when we really need to, go into a kind of ‘overdrive’, and push ourselves past what we could ordinarily do. During the crisis we are fine, and right after, but as soon as we get a chance to rest… bang, we go into this sleep you see here. We need to feed them.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“Great. But you will need a lot more food.”

So, over the next two days, that is what they did. The Visserknappen hunted food, and Mgwan cooked it and fed his invalids. The Schip, when it arrived, sent a boat for them, and carried the two back to the Schip. Soon they had a bevy of mothers hovering around them. The boys waited outside. The verdict eventually arrived, “They will be fine, up and around in a couple of days.

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