Rise Again to the Surface, part 1. - Tern

On the windswept shores of Greenwater Bay the fishermen were rowing and sailing their boats and small ships against the sharp wind, calling over the crashes of the waves to each other, telling where they were headed and where the fish bones predicted them large schools of fish today.

A small roving boat upturned suddenly when a wave caught it to the side, and roars of laughter rang over the water, but the ones who laughed the hardest were also the first to flank the upturned boat and help to turn it around again. The  unfortunate fisherman came spitting and cursing from the water and was hoisted into his boat.

He was forced to turn back to the shore without any fish – his equipment had gone to the bottom with his dignity and spirit. It was a shame for a man to return without game but everyone knew that Greenwater Bay was treacherous on days like this; the fishwives would not scold him too sharply.

Little children raced on the sand to meet the young sailor and helped him drag his boat far above the line where the sea met the land and brushed the sand over and over again like a maid combing her hair. They laughed and looked for treasure inside the boat but were disappointed when they saw it empty – even the scoop was gone.

"Don't look so shocked, you saw me go under", said the sailor bitterly and slapped one of the little boys on the back of the head – gently, laughing already, sending him giggling towards the fishwives who were fixing broken nets and carving hooks out of bone on a terrace of grey and green driftwood some distance away. "Go tell the fishwives I have need of the fish girl."

"The fish girl is with the salt wives, has been since yesterday night", said a girl who had a red dried starfish sewn to the band that tied back her dark brown hair, which was damp from the constant salty spray that flew in the wind. "From a week hence she'll be a woman grown and they are preparing her."

"But that means she can't go looking for my stuff for a whole week! What am I going to do without my pole and my spear and my net?"

"You shouldn't have gone to the bay in this weather", said the girl and squinted, looking over the bay. "My dad, he says this is boat-turner tide and only the big boats and ships should go to the bay to fish. Don't they have boat-turner tides in Nest, Tern?"

"No they don't", said Tern sullenly and sat onto the sand. "I guess I have a lot to learn. That would damn well be easier if this father of yours - or any one of these damn kingfishers - would tell me what I need to know. They just toss me into a boat and tell me to fish!"

"We are not taught, no one is", said a little boy and squirmed onto his lap. His naked skin above the soft linen pants was warm against Tern's chest. "We look and listen, and then we get our first boats and look and listen some more."

"It's true", said the girl. "Minnow, you are wetting your clothes if you sit on him."

"I want them to be wet, it's not so hot that way", said the little boy. "Besides, they already were before I got here. I found that huge seashell near the smoke houses and wanted to see."

"Was it alive?"

"Yea it was so I let it be. What did you think, stupid? If it were dead I'd already taken it to Salmon. He pays for big ones like that and sells them to pretty ladies in big cities like the Nest.
"But Tern, you can always get a new rod and a new net, I know you can. The fishwives like you and they will help you even though it was your own fault you lost your things and they have to work more. Everyone loses a couple of nets and rods and everything, they do, even dad did when he was young, and last year there was the shark that caught his hook and snapped the rod in half!"

Tern made a face and sighed.

"I suppose he didn't go out to the boat-turner tide, though? Hah, supposed so. I guess I will have to speak with the fishwives then, if the fish girl is not available. A woman grown, eh? She looks so little."

"I'm nearly taller than her", said the starfish girl proudly and sat next to him. The rest of the little school of children sat down as well – they seemed to honor the girl as their leader of sorts, and besides the wind was warm and the sand soft, and it was a perfect time for a little nap besides, even though the sun was shining down on them mercilessly. Tern's clothes were already drying on him. "But she's the fish girl, who knows, maybe mermaids are small, all of them."

"Were, you mean."

"Well, there's her. How could that be if there were no others?"

"They say her mum died soon after they found her."

"Well how do you think she got her if there was no one else, stupid?" laughed the girl.

"That's true", said Tern and laughed as well. He wrapped his arms around Minnow, whose head was already nodding. "Hey, is this one your brother? You look alike."

"Yea, he's Minnow and I'm Birkenia. Just put him down if you don't want to hold him."

"No, I'm fine, I was just wondering. I don't know so many people yet, and you seem like someone I'd be wise to know and befriend, isn't that so? You obviously know me even though I didn't know you."

"Everyone knows the bird who wants to be a fish", laughed Birkenia. "I've seen you, walking around, learning to use your boat and your rod and your net, and swimming with the other men every morning before breakfast. Why'd you want to be a fisher, Tern? I hear the birds at Nest have it very nice."

"Well they are high above the spray at least, otherwise I'm not so certain", said Tern and looked away towards the East. "The Nest is high up on the mountainside and the sea is far below. I always thought it beautiful even in its wrath, and liked it more than the rock and the sky. Then I came here and discovered that she's a nasty bitch."

Some of the children laughed, and the tone sent chills down Tern's back. They sounded knowing, not amused.

"You know nothing about the sea", declared a boy standing ankle-deep in the water, washing sand off his slender, tanned arms. Fern recognized him as the chief fisherman's son, Grouper. "You haven't seen the stormy season when only the big ships are allowed to sail, and them only with the fish girl with them; or the salt flats season when we have to walk miles and miles just to get to the water and everything reeks of rotting seaweed."

"What will I call her then, if she's worse than a bitch?" asked Fern, and the boy grinned, revealing a gap between his front teeth.

"You will call her God."