‘From seven you can spare two.’
‘There are forty in your camp,’ my father replied, ‘and more than that of us. Besides, you have your own fish, the dried ones that you brought.’
‘We tire of that kind,’ the Aleut said.
He was a short man who only came to my father's shoulders, and he had small eyes like black pebbles and a mouth like the edge of a stone knife. The other Aleut looked very much like him.
‘You are hunters,’ my father said. ‘Go and hunt your own fish if you are tired of what you are now eating. I have my people to think of.’
‘Captain Orlov will hear that you refuse to share the fish.’
‘Yes, tell him,’ my father said. ‘But also why we refuse.’
The Aleut grunted to his companion and the two of them stalked off on their short legs across the sand dunes that lay between the village and their camp.
We ate the rest of the white bass that night and there was much rejoicing. But little did we know, as we ate and sang and the older men told stories around the fire, that our good fortune would soon bring trouble to Ghalas- at.
3
The wide beds of kelp which surround our island on three sides come close to the shore and spread out to sea for a distance of a league. In these deep beds, even on days of heavy winds, the Aleuts hunted. They left the shore at dawn in their skin canoes and did not return until night, towing after them the slain otter.
The sea otter, when it is swimming, looks like a seal, but is really very different. It has a shorter nose than a seal, small webbed feet instead of flippers, and fur that is thicker and much more beautiful. It is also different in other ways. The otter likes to lie on its back in the kelp beds, floating up and down to the motion of the waves, sunning itself or sleeping They are the most playful animals in the sea.
It was these creatures that the Aleuts hunted for their pelts.
From the cliff I could see the skin canoes darting here and there over the kelp beds, barely skimming the water, and the long spears flying like arrows. At dark the hunters brought their catch into Coral Cove, and there on the beach the animals were skinned and fleshed. Two men, who also sharpened the spears, did this work, labouring far into the night by the light of seaweed fires. In the morning the beach would be strewn with carcasses, and the waves red with blood.
Many of our tribe went to the cliff each night to count the number killed during the day. They counted the dead otter and thought of the beads and other things that each pelt meant. But I never went to the cove and whenever I saw the hunters with their long spears skimming over the water, I was angry, for these animals were my friends. It was fun to see them playing or sunning themselves among the kelp. It was more fun than the thought of beads to wear around my neck.
This I told my father one morning.
‘There are scarcely a dozen left in the beds around Coral Cove,’ I said. ‘Before the Aleuts came there were many.’
‘Many still live in other places around the island,’ he replied, laughing at my foolishness. ‘When the hunters leave they will come back.’
‘There will be none left,’ I said. ‘The hunters will kill them all. This morning they hunt on the south. Next week they move to another place.’
‘The ship is filled with pelts. In another week the Aleuts will be ready to go.’
I was sure that my father thought they would leave soon, for two days before he had sent some of our young men to the beach to build a canoe from a log which had drifted in from the sea.
There are no trees on the island except the small ones stunted by the wind. When a log came ashore, as happened once in a long time, it was always carried to the village and worked on where a chance wave could not wash it away. That the men were sent to hollow out the log in the cove, and to sleep beside it during the night, meant that they were there to watch the Aleuts, to give the alarm should Captain Orlov try to sail off without paying us for the otter skins.
Everyone was afraid he might, so besides the men in the cove who watched the Aleut ship, others kept watch on the camp.
Every hour someone brought news. Ulape said that the Aleut woman spent a whole afternoon cleaning her skin aprons, which she had not done before while she had been there. Early one morning, Ramo said he had just seen Captain Orlov carefully trimming his beard so that it looked the way it did when he first came. The Aleuts who sharpened the long spears stopped this work and gave all their time to skinning the otter which were brought in at dusk.
We in the village of Ghalas-at knew that Captain Orlov and his hunters were getting ready to leave the island. Would he pay us for the otter he had slain or would he try to sneak away in the night? Would our men have to fight for our rightful share?
These questions everyone asked while the Aleuts went about their preparations — everyone except my father, who said nothing, but each night worked on the new spear he was making.
4
The Aleuts left on a sunless day. Out of the north deep waves rolled down upon the island. They broke against the rocks and roared into the caves, sending up white sprays of water. Before night a storm would certainly strike.
Not long after dawn the Aleuts took down their skin tents and carried them to the beach.
Captain Orlov had not paid my father for the otter he had killed. So when the news came that the hunters had packed their tents, all of our tribe left the village and hurried towards Coral Cove. The men with their weapons went first and the women followed. The men took the trail that led to the beach, but the women hid themselves among the brush on the cliff.
Ulape and I went together far out on the ledge where I had hidden before when the hunters first came.
The tide was low and the rocks and the narrow beach were scattered with bundles of otter pelts. Half of the hunters were on the ship. The rest were wading into the water, tossing the pelts into a boat. The Aleuts laughed while they worked, as if they were happy to leave the island.
My father was talking to Captain Orlov. I could not hear their words because of the noise the hunters made, but from the way my father shook his head, I knew that he was not pleased.
‘He is angry,’ Ulape whispered.
‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘When he's really angry, he pulls his ear.’
The men who were working on the canoe had stopped and were watching my father and Captain Orlov. The other men of our tribe stood at the foot of the trail.
The boat went off to the ship filled with otter. As it reached the ship, Captain Orlov raised his hand and gave a signal. When the boat came back it held a black chest which two of the hunters carried to the beach.
Captain Orlov raised the lid and pulled out several necklaces. There was little light in the sky, yet the beads sparkled as he turned them this way and that. Beside me, Ulape drew in her breath in excitement, and I could hear cries of delight from the women hidden in the brush.
But the cries suddenly ceased as my father shook his head and turned his back on the chest. The Aleuts stood silent. Our men left their places at the foot of the trail and moved forward a few steps and waited, watching my father.
‘One string of beads for one otter pelt is not our bargain,’ my father said.
‘One string and one iron spearhead,’ said Captain Orlov, lifting two fingers.
‘The chest does not hold that much,’ my father answered.
