The man nimbly climbed inside the stern of the canoe, grabbed the paddle, and used his free hand to help pull Seth into the canoe, which was already slowly drifting further down the mouth of the river with the current. The man stabbed the paddle into the water, and the canoe lurched ahead with his powerful strokes.
Madoc spotted them from the bank and shouted for the others to run faster and join him. The torches behind Madoc changed direction and raced directly at the canoe.
Seth knelt in the bottom and watched behind. There was only one paddle, but he felt like using his hands as paddles to make the canoe move even faster as Madoc drew closer. However, the man in the back of the canoe was already paddling fast, the canoe surging ahead with every stroke, but still the warrior running behind was catching up, and so were others of the family. An arrow splashed into the water to one side, and then one of Madoc’s spears fell short. Seth fleetingly wanted to go back and retrieve the spear. He changed his mind as he looked at the gathering family of angry people standing knee-deep in the water near the shore where it became deeper, and the waves rolled ashore.
The canoe finally entered the deeper water, striking the incoming waves with the bow so hard that water poured in as each wave rolled past. Seth felt the water deepening in the canoe bottom and knew that if it sank the family would have no mercy when he swam ashore.
The stern of the canoe sat lower than the bow. The man paddling called, “Move back here and bail!”
The shift allowed the front of the canoe to ride higher as it struck the waves. Seth didn’t recognize the word bail, but understood the meaning. The water inside was growing deeper than ever. It covered his knees as he knelt to scoop water out with his hands. How much more water could it take before sinking? He had nothing with which to bail the water out. Frantically he looked around as he splashed another few handfuls out. The canoe struck another wave, and more water poured in over the front. The water inside was deep enough that the canoe was beginning to feel sluggish in its movements.
His bare hands would never keep up with the growing amount of water coming with each wave. He stripped his shirt off and sank it into the water, soaking up some water that he squeezed out over the side. It worked better than his bare hands but not by much. Seth saw the man paddling, cast a fearful glance back at the shoreline before paddling harder. Another arrow splashed closer to them. With the wallowing boat, his paddling efforts were canceled by the incoming waves.
Seth needed to increase the amount of water he gathered with each scoop to keep even with the water rushing into the boat, let alone gain on it. An idea formed. He placed his arms back into the sleeves of his shirt but kept the body of the shirt flat, in front of him instead of over his head. He sank the shirt into the water and lifted quickly. Water spilled outside, probably as much as all of his other efforts combined. He repeated the action, figuring out how to effectively scoop more each time until he had removed nearly all the water.
The canoe picked up speed as the weight of the water decreased. It rode higher in the water, and suddenly it passed beyond the breaking waves and traveled into calmer water. Seth looked back. At least three of the family had chased the canoe into the deeper water and were now swimming back to the beach in frustration. If only one of them had reached the canoe, he would have easily rolled it over.
“That was a good job you did back there,” the man’s voice rattled, followed by a fit of coughing. “Quick thinking too.”
Seth didn’t answer. He drew in long, deep gasps of cold air into his lungs and allowed the fear to depart slowly. He looked behind so many times his neck hurt before he reached down with his shirt and used it to soak up the last of the water. Then he wrung it out and repeated the process until the bottom was almost dry.
The shoreline was now off to his right, lost in darkness. The man in the rear paddled with a steady, effortless rhythm that he could probably maintain for half the night. The soft ocean breeze struck from the left side, trying to push them closer to shore, so the canoe was pointed slightly out to sea to counter it.
The man said, “You made the right choice in taking me with you, as far as I’m concerned.”
“You tried to steal my canoe,” Seth accused him, blaming him for their near capture.
“I could be wrong, but I think there may be two canoe thieves in this boat.” The voice was soft, raspy, and held more than a trace of humor.
Seth remembered all the hides, scrapers, and the food that he’d stolen and left behind to chase the canoe. “Because of you, I left my supplies and food back there.”
It was quiet while the man paddled steadily, without pause, until he said, “If not for me, you wouldn’t have had the chance to escape. You’d be running away on land, and you still would have left your supplies and food—which I also suspect were not yours. Those people back there would have caught up with you sooner or later, you know.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“You’re right, I guess. Do you want to paddle for a while?”
Seth accepted the paddle wordlessly. He tried to duplicate the skill with which the other paddled and failed. He’d never been in a canoe before yesterday. Even then, he’d only paddled a short way, but he’d observed and believed he knew how to do it. He wanted to impress the old man. His strokes were long and powerful.
The voice from behind said, “There’s no place we have to be in a hurry. You might as well slow down, or your shoulders are going to be painful before long.”
Seth’s shoulders were already hurting, but slowing would mean admitting the man was right. Besides, Seth still had to decide what to do with him. His eyes fell to the arrows and bow floating in salt water in the bottom of the boat. Wet, the bowstring would stretch, and the bow would lose power. The bowstring might dry stiff, or it might become brittle and break. He paused and lifted the arrows to a dry spot near the front of the canoe. The fletching peeled off both. He stood the bow against one side and started paddling again.
He said, “My name’s Seth.”
“I’m glad you introduced yourself. I was wondering if you were going to use your bow to shoot me.”
Seth heard the humor in the voice again, as well as a warning in the tone. He said, “The bow and arrows are too wet, even if I wanted. You never gave me your name.”
“Too bad about the arrows. This night is full of unfortunate events. My name,” a pause began that lasted so long Seth wondered if the man had forgotten the question, “Is Dawn.”
“Dawn? I don’t believe you. You waited too long before telling it to me.”
“That’s because I wore another name yesterday. Tomorrow it may be something else, or I may keep Dawn for a while.”
“Why?”
After a short pause, he spoke confidentially, as if they were old friends, “Yesterday was the end of my old life, much like yours. This venture in our canoe is the beginning of a new day, a new life. A dawn, of sorts, if you get the meaning. That’s why I chose Dawn for my name.”
Seth had never heard of such a thing. “You just pick a new name whenever you want? And it is not our canoe. It is mine.”
“What’s to stop me from changing it? Do you like your name, Seth, or would another suit you better?”
“Seth has always been my name.”
A chuckle floated to him from the back of the canoe. Then the voice crackled with humor as it said, “Will it always be Seth?”
It was not a question to be answered tonight. How could Seth know the future? Until this night, he’d never even considered a name change, or known it was possible. He paddled and watched the stars and kept the sound of the waves crashing on the beach on his right. He didn’t dare go ashore. Not yet. Maybe not even tomorrow. Modoc scared him.