conches, Karana would peer inside and put them to her ear. She might make a sound but it meant nothing to me, as I watched her, except surprise or delight.
She kept the shells we found, but it was the wild horses she loved.
They would come down from the mountains at dawn and sometimes at dusk, horses and their colts, wild as the day they were born, and race along the sand and through the waves, making noises that she seemed to understand. She never grew tired of watching them. Nor did Rontu-Aru. The one word she learned from me—of less than a dozen words—was the word for horse.
And yet when Father Vicente offered to put her on one of the Mission's geldings Karana backed away and shook her head. I got on the horse and walked it around to show her how easy it was, but she still shook her head.
The melon patch over the hill was another place of delight. The vines were a vivid green and had begun to send out their delicate little feelers. We went there every day.
I tried to explain how big the melons grew, pointing to my head and trying to make her see that they would also be round like my head. She understood all of this but when I tried to describe how a melon looked inside I had little success. If it was evening or early morning and the sky was pink I would point to it and try to make her understand that a melon looked like that inside.
We gave her the first melon that ripened. It was a big melon and she ate it all. She liked them more than any food we had. She would eat a whole one for supper and sometimes two.
Karana also liked to work at the looms. She had never seen one before, but in a week's time she wove as fast as any of us. The first thing she made was a cloak for me with the design of a dolphin across the back. She was proud of the cloak, so before I wore it out I put it on every day, even when the weather was hot.
I did everything I could to make her happy. Still, she did not like the food very much and sometimes, after the first melons had gone, she would go to the beach after our noon meal and dig the big clams and scoop out a pit and roast them in a fire of dry kelp.
And though she liked the horses and the shells and the melons and the looms, she seemed to enjoy just walking along the beach with her dog the most of all.
I wanted to know about the Island of the Blue Dolphins and how she had lived there and what she had thought, but this I never learned.
Chapter 23
F ATHER M ERCED suddenly grew very sick. When he died there was much mourning because he had lived at the Mission for thirty-one years and knew everyone for leagues around.
In his place those in Mexico City who ruled such things put Father Vicente in charge of the Mission. But only for a short time, only until they could send someone else. Father Vicente, they said, was too young to be the head of a Mission as big as Santa Barbara.
While Father Vicente looked after the Mission and before Father Torres came to take his place two things happened.
The first thing that happened was that a bracelet of mine that Señora Gomez had taken was returned to me.
The next thing Father Vicente did was to make a shelter for Karana and her dog. He understood that she was not used to being with many people who snored and uttered strange noises at night. So he made a good place for her in the courtyard with woven mats to cover the hard stones.
In the morning, before any of the rest of us were up, before the first bell rang, she folded her blanket and put it away and was down on the beach, to pick up shells or to look for clams, to watch the wild horses, or just to romp up and down the wet sand.
Everyone liked her, but they thought she was somewhat crazy. They had never heard of anyone who rose before the first bell and went out picking flowers or just ran up and down the beach. Only Father Vicente understood and let her do what she wished. He gave orders that she was to work only when she wanted to.
The next thing of the many things that happened
She kept the shells we found, but it was the wild horses she loved.
They would come down from the mountains at dawn and sometimes at dusk, horses and their colts, wild as the day they were born, and race along the sand and through the waves, making noises that she seemed to understand. She never grew tired of watching them. Nor did Rontu-Aru. The one word she learned from me—of less than a dozen words—was the word for horse.
And yet when Father Vicente offered to put her on one of the Mission's geldings Karana backed away and shook her head. I got on the horse and walked it around to show her how easy it was, but she still shook her head.
The melon patch over the hill was another place of delight. The vines were a vivid green and had begun to send out their delicate little feelers. We went there every day.
I tried to explain how big the melons grew, pointing to my head and trying to make her see that they would also be round like my head. She understood all of this but when I tried to describe how a melon looked inside I had little success. If it was evening or early morning and the sky was pink I would point to it and try to make her understand that a melon looked like that inside.
We gave her the first melon that ripened. It was a big melon and she ate it all. She liked them more than any food we had. She would eat a whole one for supper and sometimes two.
Karana also liked to work at the looms. She had never seen one before, but in a week's time she wove as fast as any of us. The first thing she made was a cloak for me with the design of a dolphin across the back. She was proud of the cloak, so before I wore it out I put it on every day, even when the weather was hot.
I did everything I could to make her happy. Still, she did not like the food very much and sometimes, after the first melons had gone, she would go to the beach after our noon meal and dig the big clams and scoop out a pit and roast them in a fire of dry kelp.
And though she liked the horses and the shells and the melons and the looms, she seemed to enjoy just walking along the beach with her dog the most of all.
I wanted to know about the Island of the Blue Dolphins and how she had lived there and what she had thought, but this I never learned.
Chapter 23
F ATHER M ERCED suddenly grew very sick. When he died there was much mourning because he had lived at the Mission for thirty-one years and knew everyone for leagues around.
In his place those in Mexico City who ruled such things put Father Vicente in charge of the Mission. But only for a short time, only until they could send someone else. Father Vicente, they said, was too young to be the head of a Mission as big as Santa Barbara.
While Father Vicente looked after the Mission and before Father Torres came to take his place two things happened.
The first thing that happened was that a bracelet of mine that Señora Gomez had taken was returned to me.
The next thing Father Vicente did was to make a shelter for Karana and her dog. He understood that she was not used to being with many people who snored and uttered strange noises at night. So he made a good place for her in the courtyard with woven mats to cover the hard stones.
In the morning, before any of the rest of us were up, before the first bell rang, she folded her blanket and put it away and was down on the beach, to pick up shells or to look for clams, to watch the wild horses, or just to romp up and down the wet sand.
Everyone liked her, but they thought she was somewhat crazy. They had never heard of anyone who rose before the first bell and went out picking flowers or just ran up and down the beach. Only Father Vicente understood and let her do what she wished. He gave orders that she was to work only when she wanted to.
The next thing of the many things that happened
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