Bride of the Baja by Jane Toombs Page B

him, she had not noticed his nakedness at all.
    She woke up shaking from the cold. Though the sun had not risen, the sky was light and a brisk wind drove clouds over the island from the south. She got up, stretched, felt her hair being tousled by the wind. With a start, she saw that Chia was gone.
    All at once she smelled--what? Something being cooked, she was sure. She realized she was ravenously hungry.
    She followed the odor to where Chia sat on his haunches in front of a small, circular pit. He looked at Alitha when she sat beside him and, after a moment, reached out and hesitantly touched a strand of her hair, rolling it between his fingers. She smiled at him and for the first time he smiled back.
    Chia turned away and removed the dirt from the top of the pit, exposing a layer of matted grass. When he lifted the grass out of the pit, she saw four fish lying on hot rocks. Picking up one of the fish, Chia held it by the tail and began eating the head. Though Alitha grimaced with distaste, she used her fingers to split open one of the other fish and brought a chunk to her mouth. The taste, though salty, was surprisingly good.
    After they had finished eating, Chia motioned her to follow him. He led her to a cluster of small holes, each lined with leaves, each partly filled with water. From the storm, she supposed. She watched Chia scoop water to his mouth and drink. Again she followed his example, but when she put her hands into the water for a second drink, he raised one hand waist high to make a horizontal, chopping motion. Unmistakably he meant no. Water must be in short supply on the island,
    Chia leaped to his feet and set off toward the beach. Following him, she was surprised when he turned in the direction of Malloy's grave, stopping next to the mound and pointing to an oblong piece of metal thrust into the sand. He had placed a marker on the grave! He must have learned the ways of the white men from seeing a Spanish burial ground at a mission.
    She ran her fingers over the plaque, feeling indentations in the metal. Examining the plaque more closely, she saw that words had been etched into the surface, words so worn by time she could not make them out.
    She tried tracing the letters with the tips of her fingers. When she was done, she said the one word she could decipher. "Cabrillo."
    She had heard the name but couldn't remember where. A Spanish name, certainly, perhaps an early padre or explorer who had been buried on this desolate island a hundred or more years before. Chia had found his grave and brought the marker here to please her.
    "Thank you," she said, nodding to him.
    He stood and walked quickly away, and again she had to leap to her feet to follow him. She wondered if Chia was actually bashful and hid his unease in these sudden bursts of activity.
    They followed the beach until Alitha recognized the rocky coastline where she had been swept ashore. Chia led her to a small cover where timbers had been piled on the rocks well above the tide line. Ship timbers and planking, probably from the Yankee. Some had been lashed together to form the beginning of a raft, the rope, she supposed, having also been washed ashore from the ship. Chia pointed to the raft and then north across the sea.
    He meant to sail to the mainland. She nodded and began dragging timbers from the pile to the raft. Chia stopped her. After pointing to her, he walked along the beach gathering driftwood until his arms were full. He carried the wood back to the cove and laid it on the rocks.
    "I understand," Alitha told him. "The man builds the raft while the woman gathers the firewood."
    She set out along the beach, returning time after time with armfuls of driftwood. She soon stopped piling the wood at the place Chia had shown her and began carrying her armloads farther inland to the top of a small hill.
    Chia could have his wood for cooking, she told herself, but she was going to make a bonfire, one that could be seen for miles. It would be far