why.
“They say the Great Inventor had a beautiful stepdaughter—so of course he wanted to make love to her. He told her to prepare for a feast with a nice bath in the river. So off she goes, naked except for the tiny cedar apron between her legs. He ran into the woods and cut some yellow cedar—it sparks like hell—and set it by the fire. Come by the fire and dry yourself, Inventor called to her. She came and squatted and then he threw the yellow cedar in the flames. Well, sparks flew and her apron caught fire and burnt off the hair between her legs. Off she went, moaning, to her sleeping house, moaned all night that she was so hot she couldn’t sleep. Inventor went to her and whispered, ‘My dear, I know who can help you. He’s called Echo of the Woods. You go and call his name and he’ll answer back, “Yaa. Yaa.” Like that. When you are near, be silent, just feel around. You’ll recognize him from his magic member. You lie down on it and it will ease your pain.
“The girl went out into the woods and called, ‘Oh, Great Echo.’ ‘Yaa. Yaa,’ came the reply. When she found his member, she lay right on it and in the morning her mother found her in her bed sleeping like a baby. And from her were born the first people of our na’mima . Now, doesn’t that beat some old guy breathing onto a lump of clay?”
Hay snickered with laughter. “That’s the best creation story I ever heard. But you are half Italian. Catholic. What do you say about God creating man?”
“I say forgive and forget. I, for one, have forgiven Him. We all have our bad days, don’t we, Cappy?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “Lately all my days have been bad.”
“Yaa. Yaa,” Nello said, and got up. “Should we tack?”
We came about and the sails slatted and sprinkled us with dew. A light burst right behind me in the night.
“Dammit, Hay!” I hissed. “Put that thing out!!”
Hay froze, his face lit red by the clump of flaring matches he held above his pipe; but he kept the clump of matches flaming until his pipe was lit—then he threw them in the sea.
“I’m very sorry, Captain,” he said. “I thought aiming the light behind us wouldn’t do any harm.”
“We don’t know for sure where they are. No more matches. And no pipe. Please!”
Nello went forward and pretended to check the headsails. When he came back he sat and seemed to be studying Hay’s face.
T HE MOON SHONE clear in the middle of the sky. Nello sucked his cold cigar.
“Must have been a wonderful place to be a child. Your village,” Hay said, trying to sound cheerful.
“It was okay,” Nello said distractedly. “No one bothered us. We believe kids are relatives back from the dead. My mother called me ‘Grandpa’ because I could hold my breath underwater just like him and sink to the bottom like a rock.
“So we just played all day, or helped haul hot rocks to steam the sides of the canoes, carried boards, dug clams with the old women—it was all a game. In the summer for the salmon run, the grown-ups let us help build weirs across the rivers out of poles and twigs. Haul stones for the traps—dams, really, all shapes and sizes. The fish would swim into them at high tide, and at low tide they’d be high and dry. When the weather was good my big brother let me steer his canoe, hold it in the current, while he knelt in the bow and speared fish.”
“Shhhh,” I said. “Look at two o’clock!” and pointed at two small islands dark on the silvery sea. “A flame flared there just now. Who the hell is out here after midnight?”
“Fish boat, maybe,” Nello said without conviction. “Anchored for the night.”
“I’ll check the chart,” I said. Down below, I lit a lantern and held my hat over it to shield the light. The chart showed the water around the islands full of rocks; no boat could get in there, unless it was small, with very shoal draft. I blew out the lamp and sat in the darkness. They couldn’t be this
“They say the Great Inventor had a beautiful stepdaughter—so of course he wanted to make love to her. He told her to prepare for a feast with a nice bath in the river. So off she goes, naked except for the tiny cedar apron between her legs. He ran into the woods and cut some yellow cedar—it sparks like hell—and set it by the fire. Come by the fire and dry yourself, Inventor called to her. She came and squatted and then he threw the yellow cedar in the flames. Well, sparks flew and her apron caught fire and burnt off the hair between her legs. Off she went, moaning, to her sleeping house, moaned all night that she was so hot she couldn’t sleep. Inventor went to her and whispered, ‘My dear, I know who can help you. He’s called Echo of the Woods. You go and call his name and he’ll answer back, “Yaa. Yaa.” Like that. When you are near, be silent, just feel around. You’ll recognize him from his magic member. You lie down on it and it will ease your pain.
“The girl went out into the woods and called, ‘Oh, Great Echo.’ ‘Yaa. Yaa,’ came the reply. When she found his member, she lay right on it and in the morning her mother found her in her bed sleeping like a baby. And from her were born the first people of our na’mima . Now, doesn’t that beat some old guy breathing onto a lump of clay?”
Hay snickered with laughter. “That’s the best creation story I ever heard. But you are half Italian. Catholic. What do you say about God creating man?”
“I say forgive and forget. I, for one, have forgiven Him. We all have our bad days, don’t we, Cappy?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “Lately all my days have been bad.”
“Yaa. Yaa,” Nello said, and got up. “Should we tack?”
We came about and the sails slatted and sprinkled us with dew. A light burst right behind me in the night.
“Dammit, Hay!” I hissed. “Put that thing out!!”
Hay froze, his face lit red by the clump of flaring matches he held above his pipe; but he kept the clump of matches flaming until his pipe was lit—then he threw them in the sea.
“I’m very sorry, Captain,” he said. “I thought aiming the light behind us wouldn’t do any harm.”
“We don’t know for sure where they are. No more matches. And no pipe. Please!”
Nello went forward and pretended to check the headsails. When he came back he sat and seemed to be studying Hay’s face.
T HE MOON SHONE clear in the middle of the sky. Nello sucked his cold cigar.
“Must have been a wonderful place to be a child. Your village,” Hay said, trying to sound cheerful.
“It was okay,” Nello said distractedly. “No one bothered us. We believe kids are relatives back from the dead. My mother called me ‘Grandpa’ because I could hold my breath underwater just like him and sink to the bottom like a rock.
“So we just played all day, or helped haul hot rocks to steam the sides of the canoes, carried boards, dug clams with the old women—it was all a game. In the summer for the salmon run, the grown-ups let us help build weirs across the rivers out of poles and twigs. Haul stones for the traps—dams, really, all shapes and sizes. The fish would swim into them at high tide, and at low tide they’d be high and dry. When the weather was good my big brother let me steer his canoe, hold it in the current, while he knelt in the bow and speared fish.”
“Shhhh,” I said. “Look at two o’clock!” and pointed at two small islands dark on the silvery sea. “A flame flared there just now. Who the hell is out here after midnight?”
“Fish boat, maybe,” Nello said without conviction. “Anchored for the night.”
“I’ll check the chart,” I said. Down below, I lit a lantern and held my hat over it to shield the light. The chart showed the water around the islands full of rocks; no boat could get in there, unless it was small, with very shoal draft. I blew out the lamp and sat in the darkness. They couldn’t be this
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