“I’m sorry,” Rebecca replied soothingly. “Not now!”
“Little creep,” Silva grunted. He looked at Lawrence and patted his arm companionably. “I know how it feels, little buddy, bein’ a ex-pet. There used to be this gal in Olongapo…” He shook his head and nodded forward. “That little bump over there’s Tagran? It don’t look any bigger than Yap.”
“It is, just… not as high, less… hilly,” Lawrence said. “See that… grayness there?” He pointed. “That is the island I lived on as a hatchling!” Lawrence was genuinely excited. Everyone was. Their escape from Billingsley, their existence on the island, and their ultimate departure had been harrowing enough, but then they were faced with a rough voyage in a leaky boat with only a vague idea of their true position in relation to Lawrence’s home. The map they had wasn’t much good. Silva had been mightily tempted just to say the hell with it and make for the Philippines. Only the current and an insufficient water supply put that notion to rest. He had no doubt they’d make it, they couldn’t miss the Philippines, but it would be a hard trip. Besides, many islands in the Fil-pin Lands were practically unexplored, with lots of nasty beasties. Now, after all they’d all been through, Lawrence’s assurance that they would be met as friends and given aid was a huge relief.
Dennis had a weird thought. “Say, you keep carryin’ on about how happy ever’body’ll be to see you. After gettin’ fooled by the princess, how do I know you ain’t some sort o’ lizard king, or somethin? Why get worked up over you comin’ home?”
Lawrence made a happy sneezing sound, a belly laugh for him. “I not king! I just Lawrence. Tagranesi nice ’olks, though. They love stories, adventure. I have ’oth. Lots to tell! No one has ever returned to Tagran after so long, and I have gone far!”
“Hell, they’ll prob’ly just think you’re a ghost and ignore you.” Silva stopped, glancing aft again, far to the southwest. “Whoa. What the hell?” Others in the boat looked where he was facing. The distant horizon was smudged dark, brooding, where it had been clear just a short time before.
“Is it a storm?” Sandra asked anxiously.
“No,” said Lelaa. “I don’t think so. I don’t know what it is… unless…”
“Unless it’s that damn Talaud.” Silva finished for her. “You said it was gettin’ antsy. Couple o’ times now, I seen som’thin’ like that-when we was further south, on Yap. Might be a big ash cloud, spreadin’ out from it.”
“You said nothing before,” Rajendra said accusingly. “Why not?”
“Why should I? It’s a goddamn volcano! Nothin’ we can do about it. Why worry?”
“But… it is hundreds of miles away!” Rebecca objected. “Surely it cannot threaten us here?”
“When Krakatoa erupted in 1883, the explosion was heard thousands of miles away, and the shock wave is said to have circled the earth numerous times,” Sister Audry said nervously. “Tens of thousands died in the resultant waves.”
“Lieutenant Laumer’s men spoke of a ‘Kraa-katoa,’ ” Lelaa said thoughtfully. “I think some of them feared Talaud was ‘gearing up’ to ‘pull one,’ if I do not mistake the terms.”
“No mistake, Cap’n Lelaa,” Silva said grimly. “Dumb-asses prob’ly jinxed themselves, talking about it.”
“You don’t believe that!” Audry said severely.
Silva didn’t answer. Instead, he looked up at the sail and then turned to Rajendra at the tiller. “See if she’ll come another point or two into the wind. Cinch up them sheets, boys,” he added to Brassey and Abel Cook. “Time to quit goofin’ off.”
“Goofin’ off!” Petey seemed to scold.
As the day wore on, the lonely longboat drew closer to Tagran, close enough to make out details of the island, but at some point Lawrence’s enthusiasm seemed to wane and he grew nervous again.
“What’s the matter, Lawrence?” Rebecca asked, increasingly concerned.
“That is Tagran,” he insisted, “It… looks di’rent, though.”
“It’s been a long time, my dear,” Rebecca consoled him. “Perhaps you are mistaken?”
“Di’rent,” Lawrence said. “I don’t know how.”
“Different, like maybe a big wave splashed over the joint?” Silva said suddenly. “I didn’t see the one that washed over Yap, but it had to be twenty, thirty feet tall just to rinse all our ‘droppin’s’ out from under us. If it was that big when it hit here, or maybe bigger
… Looky there! There’s a buncha crap up in them trees yonder.” He pointed.
“No,” Lawrence moaned.
“What sort of houses do your folks live in?” Silva asked, uncharacteristically gentle.
“Tree timbers, like you call ca’ins… cav-bins”
“Cabins. Are they built up high, like the ’Cats do?”
“No.”
Silva looked at Sandra and Rebecca. Sister Audry shifted to the front of the boat and put a hand on Lawrence’s back.
“Well… a wave couldn’t have washed over the entire place!” Cook said. “There’s a small peak upon it. Two, in fact!”
“That is true,” Lawrence said, his voice miserable. “Tagranesi go there when ground shakes. None live there ’ut our ‘Noble Queen’ and her attendants, though. There is little to eat that is not carried there. Tagranesi catch ’ish, raise creatures to eat, grow things…”
“There’s a sail!” Brassey exclaimed. “There, do you see? It’s coming around the headland! Two sails!”
Silva squinted with his good eye. “There’s more than two! Look kinda like proas! A whole swarm of ’em.” He glanced around. “You know, like big double-ended canoes, with outriggers and a bipod mast!”
“They do look quite like proas,” Sister Audry exclaimed, shading her eyes. “Proas were quite common around Java… once.”
“Who are they?” Rajendra demanded, checking the prime in his pistol. “Are they your people, Lawrence?”
Lawrence shook his head. “I Think so. Others, not just Tagranesi, use those kichi-acki, ah, ’roas.”
“But they might be enemies of yours, here to plunder the remains of your home?” Rajendra insisted.
“I think not,” Lawrence replied as the vessels began converging toward the longboat. “They are Tagranesi! Thank the God!”
“Well, don’t just sit there gapin’, you nitwitted lizard!” Silva exclaimed. “Shout out to ’em before they think we’re here a’plunderin’!”
There on the open water beneath a clear, sunny sky, Lawrence was reunited with his amazed people. They weren’t the only ones amazed. Silva, Sandra, and Rebecca in particular had come to know the Grik better than they cared to, and the Tagranesi looked an awful lot like their hated enemy. They’d grown used to Lawrence, but to see so many of his people acting like… people… instead of raving killing machines was so far beyond their experience, it took a while for them to loosen their grips on their weapons. At first Lawrence jabbered excitedly across to one of the larger proas, apparently summarizing their tale and explaining his miraculous return. The Tagranesi listening to him appeared as tense as Silva and the others felt at first, but after a while they too laid their weapons aside and listened as Lawrence spoke. Occasionally, one of the apparent “leaders” made a comment or loudly repeated something Lawrence said.
“What the hell?” Dennis demanded during a brief pause.
“That’s Chinakru!” Lawrence replied, referring to what seemed the “main” leader. The creature looked like an older version of Lawrence, covered with fine orangish “fur” and dark brown stripes. The crest on its head was much longer and flatter than Lawrence’s, and fell down around its neck almost like a horse’s mane. Even when the crest stood up, as it had when the first words were exchanged, it still covered the top of the creature’s head like a horsetail plume. The most amazing thing about Chinakru, however, was that despite his apparent fitness, he looked old. His feathery fur was shot with white, and so was the thick crest. Some of his teeth were gone and the others looked none too sharp. There were even dark, wet circles around almost rheumy eyes. None of the humans had ever seen an old Grik.