Page 57 of The Voice of Wild Places
Severino explained that the men fasted until the work was done, and sexual abstinence was required by those involved until the canoe was complete.If a woman in a 'certain state' even walked by, the bark could split.Everything the Bacairy did was with intention, and learning the rituals and aspects of daily life different than his was something that Cornelius always loved.
Another group of men were gathered around an enormous length of bark bent into shape over coals, which had been roasting the inner surface for hours upon hours.An elaborate framework of poles were used to wedge the pliable canoe into place, acting as levers on the sides with cross pieces to keep them from going too far.It was a tedious process, but by the time late afternoon came around a narrow canoe with a slightly flat bottom was brought into existence.With an open bow and slightly raised stern, Cornelius was unsure how well the clay built up on the edges would keep water out.
The foreman led them to the water, stoic against the choking heat and annoying insects that always peaked around this time.Cornelius followed Antônio and Severino, while Watt and Maggie walked beside him.“How do you think those would hold up on Lake Michigan?”Watt asked, nodding to the canoe the Bacairy carried down to the water.
Cornelius chuckled.“On a good day, pretty well I imagine.But the Great Lakes aren’t known for their good days.”
Watt cleared his throat.“Has there been anything like the Big Blow again?”
Cornelius shook his head.The storm of ‘13 was one unlike anything the Great Lakes had seen before, a blizzard for the ages.Hundreds of people died, almost twenty ships were lost and about the same were stranded for ages.Ice cold waves raged over thirty feet high, and hurricane force winds wracked destruction for miles across miles.Thankfully his family hadn’t suffered any losses or major damage, but Harbor Springs had been a frozen hell for a good while there.
In a roundabout way, it had been one of the best winters of Cornelius’ life.The mills, schools, nearly everything had been shut down, and the entire family was stuck at home for days on end.There was nothing to do but hibernate, tend to the woodpile and stove, eat good food, and tell stories.It had been cold despite their best efforts, but Papa’s voice was a smooth, warm balm as he told stories and sang to Mama, danced with her.And when Cornelius wanted to know how to lead, Papa showed him with a smile.
“Cornelius.”
Cornelius blinked, withdrawing from the tundra of his memories.He was no longer thirteen, but thirty.He was not home with his family, but deep within Brazil with strangers and people that could be called friends.And instead of waiting all winter and spring to see Watt again, he was here, with his hand on Cornelius’ shoulder and an inquisitive eyebrow raised.
“Yes?Sorry, I was …” Cornelius’ grip tightened on his cane, and he gestured vaguely with his other hand.“The heat.”
Watt squeezed his shoulder, frowning.Cornelius waited for him to ask more questions, but instead Watt tipped his head towards the river.“They want us to try it.”
“Oh.Okay.”Cornelius gathered his resolve, drawing himself up taller.“Lead the way.”
Turns out, the canoe was more than capable of gliding across the water.
Watt had become a dog, helpless to do anything but follow his master.Cornelius wandered around and took photos of the river, the gardens, the village and government buildings, and so Watt followed.
Cornelius developed all the photos he’d taken since Cuiabá, and so Watt huddled in the makeshift dark room beside him.
Cornelius wrote letters late into the night, and so Watt quietly sketched.
It went on like this for days, not entirely acknowledged save for a few curious looks from Cornelius.
On their last night in the Post, both Severino and Cornelius wrote letters while Watt made the odd shape or two in his journal.They were left alone in the men's house, a rare moment.He sat cross-legged and hunched over the tense curve of a jaw, the stubborn angle of a nose.Eyes wrinkled with concentration, the creases upturned rather than downcast.Maggie huffed from beside him on their bedroll and Watt sighed.He set his pencil down and ran a hand down Maggie’s spine, studying the sketches from afar.He glanced at Cornelius, then the paper.He couldn’t figure out for the life of him what was off, but something was.Was it the arch of his brow?
“Do you have no letters of your own to write, Watt?”Cornelius asked without looking up from his own paper.
Watt flushed, darting a look towards Severino who was studiously focusing on his own letter, albeit with a tiny smile.Watt closed his journal and said, “Ah, no.”
Severino lifted his head.“Surely I need not remind you this will be the last opportunity for correspondence for some time.”
A pins and needles sensation began to crawl up Watt’s spine, and he said, “You do not.I sent all my letters weeks ago.”
“But you have family, do you not?What if—” Severino halted abruptly, as if voicing the worst case scenario might make it true.
Watt opened his mouth to tell Severino it wasn’t any of his business, and it was a close thing.Instead, he muttered, “I have said all I need to, Severino.”Cornelius’ pen paused and it caught Watt’s attention.He glared at Cornelius.“Got something to say?”
Cornelius hummed, lifting his pen from the paper.He placed the cap against his lips, contemplating him.The black rubber pressed against the tender flesh there, and the gold of the clip winked in the light of Cornelius’ torch propped up on the ground.Watt swallowed, but didn’t look away.Finally, Cornelius shook his head, tearing his gaze away from Watt.He tossed Severino a playful smile and asked, “Who are you writing to?”
Severino gave Watt a quick evaluating look before adopting a smile.He shifted his attention to Cornelius.“Isabela, of course, and the children.”
“Oh, that reminds me.”Cornelius slowly pushed himself to standing.He took a small bundle of photos out of his pack and handed over a portion of them to Severino.“You might want to send some of these back, or keep them.Either way, they’re for you.”
Severino flipped through them, his smile widening.“Oh, look.These are fantastic, Cornelius.Ah, you get my good side every time.Thank you.”
Cornelius laughed, clapping the man on the shoulder.“Of course, the least I could do.”
Cornelius came over to Watt, limping a little, and sat down beside him.Cornelius offered the rest of the photos to Watt, who took them after a pause.“You don’t have to—” He started, then trailed off as he looked down at himself.
