FISHERMAN'S PRIZE (PART 1 )

 

FISHERMAN’S PRIZE

 

Part 1

 

 From the beginning of time the incessant northern storms had violently swept across the Sea of Kontu crashing against the sheer cliffs of Wenjenkun with tempestuous fury to permanently mar or mold crazed abstract forms on this already scarred, irredeemable land.  With fair days few and far between on this inhospitable strand, incredibly, a small number of persistent, stalwart fishermen still managed to eke out a meager subsistence from the unforgiving, turbulent sea.

 

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Most recent of these storms, lasting in intensity without wane four or five days, had been so severe that only now, when it had barely subsided, the bravest, the most stubborn or the most desperate of men, would have dared venture into it.

It so happens that one such fisherman named Kaimu, in defiance of all reason, cursing the elements, at the crack of dawn had set his small craft out to sea. He’d reassured himself that he was on the whole in excellent physical health and though middle-aged (in his late 40’s) he was still agile enough and possessed great stamina/strength to meet any impending challenges that would be mated out to him by the exacting “Mother Nature”.  Now ordinarily, he too would have paid heed to nature’s dire warnings: after all, the overhead sky was still riddled with ominous, flotilla of (billowing) clouds! This aspect among others had deterred his fellow fishermen from the perilous enterprise. But as ill-luck would have it, resultant of his cursed land-born accident that had inevitably incapacitated him for a time- his patience and their meager life provisions had been reduced to nil.

      Nor could he stomach one more accursed, infernal root- for the supposed, medicinal sustenance!

A proud man, he’d never be caught dead opining, let alone receiving a handout from his closest neighbor; nevertheless, he had his wife Ensa to consider. In the last couple of days it had pained him to see her put through such hardships. Though she’d never once complained, now that he had his mobility back, nothing short of death would deter him from his resolve. 

Besides, having spent his entire existence, rather subsistence, at this desolate (forlorn, dismal) corner, he’d always had this strange love and hate relationship with the Sea. From childhood, fishing had been in his life’s blood. Now, as he charted alone, the precarious course, the fickle sea foaming at the mouth, sprayed his face in tauntingly in greeting- as at the same time the towering, churning waves embraced and somewhat gyrated his seemingly toy craft off its heading (mark).  Undaunted, he steered hard to remain on the intended bearing; but sporadically still, (every now and then) his boat would be helplessly tossed about and whirled (reeled) as if caught in the whims of an impetuous, harlot.

Tempestuous wench, I dare you to do your worst…You owe me, and I mean to reclaim my right!  He clenched his jaw in defiance with certain determination, mindful of the dangers abound, with every fiber of his being now poised to tackle the unexpected. Despite his layered clothing however, a shiver passed through him as the bitter cold mercilessly seeped into his lungs with every intake of breath. Sudden gusting, biting winds rising in intensity meanwhile buffeted his sleeves and admonishingly trashed his already etched sculptured features, making him squint.

Would this blasted weather ever subside (let up)?

Apart from his physical exertion, he was also quietly disconcerted deep down in his heart, to see so much wooden debris floating about on the surface water.  Far more than usual, far more than he’d anticipated. All evidence pointed to (foretold of) a vessel or vessels’ calamity; hence, loss of myriad lives!  Many torn pieces of flesh and bones would be fishmeal, but infinite number of identifiable human parts or corpses would also be washed ashore. Subsequently wild dogs or birds would feast on them.

He dreaded such gruesome reminders of man’s vulnerability!

Shoreline barely visible now, at a deemed favorable spot, he dropped anchor. Steadying himself, he was about to cast his sturdy net over the sea (floor) when just then his keen eyesight espied (spotted) an intact floating figure at some distance.

Rubbing his eyes he focused his attention on the partially submerged object that lay beneath the unconscious, seemingly lifeless human. His clear vision partially obscured by the bobbing waves, Kaimu could but barely discern the thick ropes that fastened the castoff- therefore keeping him afloat- on a large, sturdy piece of dark wood.

Hmm! Looks to me a valuable commodity, a door perhaps, or a chest?   A hopeful light shone in his eyes, despite the odds stacked against of it being so. Then again, why should he bother; besides, the person could have already expired… dead as a doornail he would be from exposure to cold!

Kaimu in quandary gnawed at his lower lip as he same time thoughtfully stroked his chin.  Just then however the situation took on an urgent turn when he glimpsed (detected, pinpointed) large school of sharks over yonder headed straight for the castaway.

 

 “Not if I can help it!” Without hesitation, on the perchance the poor soul was still alive, he quickly aborted his earlier aim of casting the net. With incredible agility and strength, he first hauled the anchor up, and then raced his craft (vessel) straight (into) towards certain peril in order to rescue that poor unfortunate being. Having reached the spot, he, with the use of his sharp dagger quickly released the bonds and hauled the unconscious body up on board- just in the nick of time too! Sharks having missed their mark, circled the boat with certain frenzy, some irately bumping it, then just as swiftly they swerved and swam away towards yet another opportunity.  With the passing of this certain danger, Kaimu grinned elatedly. 

On second thought, forsaking the idea of salvaging the ‘adrift-wood-piece’, he now turned his attention back on the rescued being. Squatting, he carefully checked for the vital signs. The face was ghostly white (devoid of any color) but the body was nonetheless warm. The pulse although faint, was still there.  There were some bruises and cuts, some bleeding, but nothing serious.  Aha…. Hahn!

“What’s this, a woman?”  He was suddenly taken back and so abruptly yanked (jerked, pulled) his hand away.

It’s most puzzling, indeed? His suspicious, scrutinizing gaze affixed on the unconscious being, he absentmindedly scratched his forehead; for plainly enough, the drenched, rather prosperous attire was that of male’s. 

Hmm, what probable mischief was at play here… Could she be an escapee, a run-away?

When just then she made a faint whimpering sound and stirred, Oh who cares, at least she’s alive! Kaimu elatedly shrugged, having received added confirmation that at least his expansive efforts had not been in vain after all. As she seemed to be laboring for breath however, he now gently turned her on to her side and patted (pounded) her back. Pat, pat, pat…

She coughed, pinkish hue brushed her lovely cheeks and her lips parting, she spewed (ejected, disgorged) some seawater.  The eyelids fluttered, opened just a crack but then she, once more going ghostly pale, passed out cold. Kaimu knew all too well, the signs of shock and what the subsequent requirement would entail.  Cold as he was, without moment’s hesitation he took off his dry outer jacket, and as she was petite in frame, pretty much wrapped her whole body in it. Deferring his plans to fish until later, he then quickly applied himself to the oars (rowed) and swiftly steered his small craft back to the shore. His feet trod quickly on the wet, slippery path as he with ease carried her in his arms to his meager dwelling.

“Look what the sea has given us!”  Kicking the door wide open with his left foot, he barged right in leaving muddy footprints on the clean floor, and laid her on the cot.  “I shall leave her to your competent care.”  As he said this, he’d also quickly retrieved (reclaimed) his coat and put it back on. Then without sparing another moment for a response or an explanation to Ensa’s barrage of questions, he turned right around (on his heels) and darted out.

She’d nimbly rushed after him to outside and persisted with her loud inquiries. But there was so little time for him to waste; the weather could take a turn for the worse at any moment! Hence, ignoring his wife’s entreaties, his back still turned to her he raised his right hand up high in the air and waved a dismissive goodbye. Just like a woman! Exhaling an impatient huff, he shook his head as he quickly retraced his steps back to his boat. After returning to the proximity of the earlier spot, he then dropped anchor and cast his homemade net into the sea.