Beltha and the Great Sea Tribe

“Fish again?” Delto said, a wry smile on his face.

“Papa, you make that same joke every turn of the moon. Shush yourself and grab your bowl,” Beltha rebuked. Delto chuckled, squeezed her tight, and did as she commanded.

The latticework boat teetered as little Beltha grabbed the clay pot off the stove and set it between them. She opened the pot, removed the fish, and began working off its scales. As she peeled, she peered around at the other families preparing to eat their dinners. Wavy Town had seemed especially claustrophobic lately, dozens of foreign, dingy skiffs and rafts intermingled with the more traditional hand wrought boats of the town’s permanent denizens. Each passing wave rocked the newcomers against folks who had long been tethered to town, and agitated glances and heated words were growing more frequent.

Just then Beltha’s attention turned to a loud smack, followed by a splash. She saw one man shouting curses, holding an oar, and another man flailing in the water. Several tribespeople had gathered in the area and were shouting at one another and pointing fingers. The flailing man screamed for help, but everyone near the commotion remained aboard their respective boats. That is the way it was in Wavy Town. Falling into the deep blue was a death sentence. It was rare that any tribesmen who fell in would be able to pull himself or herself back aboard successfully. The drowned man was a foreigner; Beltha could tell by his milky white skin. He hadn’t been in Wavy Town long, otherwise the God’s Star would have burned his skin the color of a lobster. Some of the foreigners had skiffs with thatched roofs, but it was blasphemous in Wavy Town to not work and sleep under the God’s Star and Devil’s Moon. Those unburned foreigners would never belong, never be accepted.

The man who had knocked the foreigner into the water had put down his oar, and was now consoling his young daughter. Tifla was the girl’s name, and she was nearly the same age as Beltha. They often caught fish together. The foreigner must have challenged her father for the right to marry her. If the foreigner had won, Tifla would have been his. She would have cooked for him, maintained his boat, and lay with him under the Devil’s Moon. The foreigner had been twice her age; perhaps even thrice. Beltha was glad that man was dead now.

Delto stared off into the great blue beyond as Beltha continued to work the fish. Like all of the other men of the Great Sea Tribe, he served little purpose beyond handling the oars and protecting the family from the unwanted advances of other tribesmen. The boxy frame and lack of coordination of the men in the tribe made them unsuitable for activities requiring a woman’s finesse; like catching the day’s meal, patching the boats or the floating town, and scaling the fish.

With the fish finally scaled, Beltha gave the fatty portion to her father, and kept the lean portion for herself. They sat cross legged from each other and ate in silence, although Delto often met her eyes and smiled. Delto cherished her deeply, especially since the passing of their mother. He had considered challenging a neighbor for a new wife at times, but the thought of losing the oar battle, and thus leaving Beltha on her own was too much to bear.

That didn’t preclude him from having to defend Beltha, though, and as they finished their meal, a foreigner hopped towards their boat and issued a challenge. He was a greasy man; old, skin as white as chalk with gangly limbs that would greatly benefit him in an oar fight. It seemed it already had, as three women trailed him. They were likely his sea wives, and when one shouted encouragement, Beltha caught the foreigner’s name; Swayne.

Delto was a big man, but he had speed, and he was up and oriented with his oar before Swayne could get the upper hand on him. Beltha ducked to the back of their boat, lest a stray oar swing knock her into the blue.

Swayne was quick to pounce on Delto with an overhand swing that resulted in a loud crack as Delto raised his oar to block the blow. He reeled one step backwards, but kept his footing.

Swayne was relentless, though. He kept the swings coming, and Delto did everything he could to deflect them and keep his feet firm. The foreigner soon had the larger man tired. Tears began to well in Beltha’s eyes as she realized her father wasn’t going to last much longer, and he didn’t. The blows came too quick, and it took just one missed block for Swayne to send Delto teetering over the edge and splashing into the water.

Swayne hooted and gave Beltha a smile full of crooked, yellow teeth. Beltha crawled to the side of the boat and peered into her father’s eyes as he thrashed in the water. It wasn’t fear she saw, just sadness. He had failed her, and it tore him apart. Tears streamed down both of their cheeks.

“Girl!” the foreigner shouted, commanding her to his side. Beltha looked at him, and then looked at her father, still struggling in the water.

To her there was only one solution … so she jumped in next to him.