Nighttime Rowers

The journey was only supposed to be 14 days long. Here they are at 11 days and they have no idea where they are or where they are heading. Jonny Rikiau had navigated these waters before and cannot find a reason for losing his bearing. Other than being surrounded by nothing but water and sky, what worried him was repeating the mistake of his grandfather who was lost at sea during a storm. His crew was strong and loyal. Jonny showed no fear, therefore his crew showed no fear.

“It’s going to get dark soon,” one of the crew commented.

“Should we start getting ready to rest?” another asked.

“Soon,” Rikiau answered, “we can go three or five more nautical miles before it gets too dark.”

“I don’t like rowing in the dark, boss,” the third member remarked.

“Are you afraid of ghosts?” the first asked. The other one laughed.

“Well, I have heard the stories. We all have,” the third commented, “We have all heard about the giant squid, and not to mention the pirate spirits.”

“Here we go again with the spirits,” the second crewmember scoffed in exasperation.

“Are you going to deny the giant squid?” the third asked.

“If I don’t will you be quiet for the rest of the trip?” the first asked back.

“They’re real, brah, I’ve seen them before when I was a little kid with my own eyes,” the third insisted.

“Whatever you say,” the first one replied.

“Quiet, you two,” the second whispered to the others. He pointed to Rikiau, “Do I have to remind you that he lost a grandfather out here? Show some respect.” The other two quieted down and paddled silently. Their leader stopped paddling and tried to stand up, leaning forward to eye something in the distance. The mist was rising like a smoke from the water itself.

“What do you see, boss?” the first asked.

“I think it’s time to rest. There’s another canoe heading towards us.”

The canoe rocked in place as the crew prepared to sleep for the night. The outrigger of the canoe tilted away from the water and leaned heavily on the gunwale. Rikiau looked at the outrigger floating in the air, but his mind was toward that approaching canoe. He hoped to get an idea of where they were supposed to be headed when that other canoe arrived.

An hour had passed, and the air got warmer as the mist melted away into the sky. Jonny was starting to wonder if he had seen the other canoe at all. Their canoe was floating in a sea of night. Stars speckled the sky; the moon shone its gigantic eye on the lonely crew.

“They must have passed us during the mist,” Rikiau said to himself under his breath. And just as he was about lay his head down and close his eyes to rest for the night, he heard the distinct sound of paddles cutting through the black waters. He shot up, as did the rest of his crew and the other canoe glided right by them. The weathered rowers of the other canoe nodded their heads out of respect for their fellow seamen.

Their skin was brown and leathery; there was a wrinkle at the corner of their eyes for each year they had been rowing. Their leader was an old man, a large man whose long hair was silver and flowed across his broad shoulders like the moonlight onto the ocean surface. He smiled at Jonny and looked at their outrigger. The old man pointed to his own gunwale and showed broken bamboo where an outrigger should have been.

“If you want to hit land, son,” the old man spoke with gravel in his throat, “you’ll want to head in that direction once the sun is up.” The silver-haired leader pointed into the distance and motioned at Jonny.

“Thanks,” Jonny replied.

“What happened to your outrigger?” the first crewmember of Rikiau’s canoe asked.

“We got caught up in a storm sometime back,” the old man answered for his crew.

“And it took off your outrigger?” the second of Rikiau’s crew asked.

“We capsized and it was keeping us from turning it back up,” the old man replied with a smile on his face and the twinkle of the moon in his eyes.

“It’s a good thing you got it off in time,” Rikiau’s third man added, “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here with us.” The crew of the mysterious canoe chuckled.

“We’ve got to get going,” the old man whispered. He smiled at Jonny and his crew waved at the rest of Jonny’s crew. A mist emerged in the direction the peculiar canoe was headed and swallowed them whole. As the mist cleared, they were already gone.

“That’s one great story of survival,” the second crewmember commented.

“They never survived,” replied Jonny.

“What are you talking about?” the third asked, a distinct quiver in his forcefully deep voice.

“That was my grandfather,” Jonny answered. The crew of four rowed on until morning and found land just three hours after the sun peeked over the eastern horizon. After all, they found no reason to go back to sleep.