Daughter of the Reef Read Free Page A

netting lashed to a thwart held large gourds—water bottles—though by now salt water had probably seeped into them. Beneath the gourds lay a pile of coconuts. All the paddles were gone.  
    Tepua’s grief welled up again as she realized that this craft had belonged to her wedding party. How many people had been lost to the storm? She could only hope that some larger canoes had rescued the passengers from this one.  
    For now she had to put aside her worries about kin and friends. Her throat burned with salt and thirst. She glanced again at the large gourds, and prayed that one still held fresh water.  
    With trepidation she began to rock the canoe, fearing she would accidentally overturn it once again. But now that the canoe floated upright, the outrigger made it steady. In fact the whole craft was so stable that she found it difficult to rock. After spending a short time fighting with the swamped boat, Tepua finally pulled herself in over the side and sat in the water that remained.  
    Under her weight, the canoe tipped away from the outrigger, its splashboard almost level with the sea. She tried bailing with cupped hands, but for every handful of brine she tossed out, the waves slopped another in.  
    Frustrated and weary, she stopped. A scrape on her arm stung, leaking blood into the water. She looked at it, alarmed. Blood in the sea would soon bring sharks. To remain long like this could only bring death.  
    But how was she to get the boat bailed? Again she eyed the gourds. If the water inside wasn’t drinkable, then she could break one open and use it as a scoop. With stiff fingers she undid the netting and selected a gourd that felt half-empty when she shook it. She pulled out the sticky plug and tipped the gourd, letting a few drops onto her tongue.  
    She tasted salt, but perhaps that was just from her skin. She let a bit more dribble into her mouth, and then drank the rest greedily. Slightly brackish, perhaps, but it would sustain her.  
    Then she smashed the end of the empty container against a hard edge of the splashboard until she opened a hole in the gourd. With a few more blows she was able to fashion it into a crude bailing scoop.  
    The sun brightened, giving a blue tinge to the water. The sea, calmed now, lapped gently at the sides of the boat. Only an occasional wave splashed in. Working with the gourd, Tepua began to feel that she might actually be throwing more water out than was coming in. Wiping her brow, she kept going, even though her arm ached and weariness made her dizzy.  
    Gradually the canoe began to rise as Tepua gained more freeboard. Finally the flood within dwindled to a few annoying puddles. With a huge sigh, she fell back in the canoe.  
    Only then, when she felt something sharp against her back, did she remember the tangle of cord about her waist. She reached back to find a few sticks of broken bamboo, the remnants of the bridal platform, still tied to her. Tossing these aside, she lay down with her head pillowed on the remaining gourds, her torn bark-cloth robe spread over her. She told herself she would rest for only a few moments.  
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    Tepua woke, half-immersed in brine, her arms and legs stinging. The boat shuddered as something bumped it. She sat up with a start and a cry. She had no idea how long she had slept. Her shadow stretched out of the canoe, far across the water.  
    Angrily she groped for her makeshift bailer and began once again. Boats such as these, with so many seams, leaked constantly. She knew that; why had she let herself fall asleep?  
    â€œFool!” she said aloud. “Stupid child!” She flung bilge water in an arc over the side. Another bump shook the boat, jarring Tepua from her rage.  
    This time she saw a shape passing the hull, a high dorsal fin. She froze in her bailing, then started once more in a frenzy. The shark was as long as a man was tall. She knew why it had come.  
    Blood from