We remain tonight on Perkins Island, but at least we are gone from the village & the trader Jenson. We camp on the northern side of the island, directly across the sound from the Wolverine River. The journey so far seems to drag against our will.
Jenson warned we would be unable to launch our boats into the waves. This only spurred our determination. We rose for our departure this morning to a dreary rain & rough seas. The trader was out of his bed earlier than I have ever seen him, only to stand watch over our efforts with much naysaying. We loaded the row boats in near dark & divided the men. Pruitt, the old man, two Eyaks & I to one boat?—?Samuelson, Tillman & the third young Eyak to the other. I ordered the three young Indians to give the final heave-ho & jump aboard last.
Too busy fighting the oars against the surf, I noticed nothing amiss until Tillman’s bark.
?—?Hell! Do we go back for them?
I looked up. Through the gloom I could just make out the Indians at shore. The waves broke at their knees. They gave no expression. One held up a hand. I could not read it. Did they wave farewell, or were they left against their will? Did they intend to stay behind even as they nodded to my terms? Whatever the cause, I would not retrieve them. We had just managed to clear the surf. I cut my hand through the air, out into the sound.
?—?Onward, I said.
We set into the cold wet gray. Just two strong rowers to a boat. The old Eyak was of no use. We were undermanned from the start.
Daylight improved nothing. Waves chopped at the boat sides. Wind kicked up sea spray, drenched the supplies through canvas tarps. We traveled north along the coast of the island. A cluster of rocks rose before us. I called out to veer to open water. The old man spoke for the first time then, a throaty chortle that was meaningless to me. The trapper understood.
?—?He says keep close to shore through here.
?—?What you say?
The boats rose, teetered on the waves, & carried us towards the rocks.
?—?That’s what he says. Keep close in.
I looked to where the old man perched in the bow. His vest flapped in the wind. His eyes were wild, & he grinned or grimaced, I could not tell.
?—?It’s no good, Tillman hollered into the wind.
I had to agree. The waves would dash the row boats to bits against the rocks. Why bring the old man if not to guide us? He has known these bays & inlets all his long life. The Eyaks said he could get us to mainland.
Our boats threatened to turn sidelong to the swells. Waves broke over the gunwales.
?—?Do as he says, I called. —?Head in.
I had no time to regret my order. The sea took us like driftwood & threw us to the rocks. We scraped our way past the outcroppings only to be swept up by whirlpools at the base of the island cliffs. The boats rotated, heaved, & creaked. Salt spray blinded us. I thought I heard the old Eyak cackle from the bow. Perhaps it was the gulls. What kind of mad man laughs as he drowns?
I cannot say how long we battled the sea & cliff face. Tillman stood at his stern, shoved his oar to the cliff to lever the boat. Even his considerable strength was no match for the sea. Pruitt howled as his hand was smashed between bow & rock. Samuelson let out a string of curses like none I have heard before.
When at last we freed ourselves from the roiling current, we pulled at the oars until our hearts would burst. We kept on until we rode even swells with no rocks in sight.
Tillman navigated his boat closer to ours. I thought he came to set our plan, but instead he threw down his oars, leapt across to our boat. Before I knew his intent, he grabbed the old man by the shirt front to jerk him to his feet.
?—?What the devil is the matter with you? Tillman yelled into the old Eyak’s face. —?You’d kill us all!
The old man did not blink. He should have feared for his life. Instead he grinned, his teeth worn nubs. He then spoke with his guttural clucks & hard stops.
?—?What does he say? Tillman turned to Samuelson.
The trapper hesitated, as if not sure to repeat it.
?—?He says he’s been hungry for many days.
?—?What?
Samuelson shrugged.
?—?That’s what he says. He’s hungry.
Tillman shoved the old man.
?—?So he’d take us all to hell?
Tillman moved to throw him overboard. The old man squawked a kind of laugh or yelp. I was tempted to let him be sent to the sea, but thought better of it.
?—?Enough, Tillman. We’ll be rid of him soon enough.
The sergeant hesitated. I thought he would disobey. My misgivings about his reputation were roused, but he shoved the old man back down into the boat.
We returned to rowing without talk or pause. Our progress was slow. Not until early afternoon did we round to north side of Perkins Island.
?—?The old man says a storm is coming, Samuelson said.
Why should we believe him? None of us trusts the Eyak now.
?—?I don’t know but maybe we should listen to him this time around, Samuelson said. We all followed his eyes towards the horizon where clouds were building.