The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [191]
Carlono’s sister Carolio, singing out from the front of the boat in a strong high voice, began a rhythmic chant that rose above the liquid melody of the Great Mother River. Ayla watched with fascination as the rowers pulled against the powerful current, intrigued by the way they rowed in unison to the beat of the song, and she was surprised at how swiftly and smoothly they were propelled upstream.
At the bend in the river, the sides of the rocky gorge closed in. Between the soaring walls that reared out of the depths of the voluminous river, the sound of the water grew louder and more intense. Ayla could feel the air becoming cooler and damper, and her nostrils flared at the wet clear smell of the river and the living and dying of life within it, so different from the crisp dry aromas of the plains.
Where the gorge widened out again, trees grew on both sides down to the edge of the water. “This is beginning to look familiar,” Jondalar said. “Isn’t that the boat-making place ahead? Are we going to stop there?”
“Not this time. We’ll keep going and turn around at Half-Fish.”
“Half-Fish?” Ayla said. “What is that?”
A man sitting in front of her turned around and grinned. Ayla recalled that he was Carolio’s mate. “You should ask him,” he said, glancing at the man beside her. Ayla watched a red glow fill Jondalar’s face as he blushed with embarrassment. “It’s where he became half a Ramudoi man. Hasn’t he told you about it?” Several people laughed.
“Why don’t you tell it, Barono?” Jondalar said. “I’m sure it won’t be the first time.”
“Jondalar’s right about that,” Markeno said. “It’s one of Barono’s favorite stories. Carolio says she’s tired of hearing it, but everyone knows that he can’t stop telling a good story, no matter how many times he’s told it.”
“Well, you must admit, it was fanny, Jondalar,” Barono said. “But you should tell it.”
Jondalar smiled in spite of himself. “To everyone else, maybe.” Ayla was looking at him with a puzzled smile. “I was just learning to handle small boats,” he began. “I had a harpoon—a spear for fish—with me, and started upriver, and then I noticed the sturgeon were on the move. I thought it might be my chance to get the first one, not thinking about how I would ever land a big fish like that alone, or what would happen in such a small boat.”
“That fish gave him the ride of his life!” Barono said, unable to resist.
“I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to spear one; I wasn’t used to a spear with a cord attached,” Jondalar continued. “I should have worried about what would happen if I did.”
“I don’t understand,” Ayla said.
“If you are hunting on land and spear something, like a deer, even if you just wound it, and the spear falls out, you can trail it,” Carlono explained. “You can’t follow a fish in water. A harpoon has barbs that face backward and a strong cord attached, so once you spear a fish, the point with the cord stays in it so it doesn’t get lost in the water. The other end of the cord can be fastened to the boat.”
“The sturgeon he speared pulled him upstream, boat and all,” Barono interrupted again. “We were on the shore back there, and we saw him going past, hanging on to the cord that was tied to the boat. I never saw anyone going so fast in my life. It was the funniest thing I ever saw. Jondalar thought he hooked the fish, but the fish had hooked him instead!”
Ayla was smiling along with everyone else.
“By the time the fish finally lost enough blood and died, I was pretty far upstream,” Jondalar continued. “The boat was almost swamped, and I ended up swimming to the shore. In the confusion, the boat went downstream but the fish ended up in a backwater next to the land. I pulled it up on the shore. By then I was pretty cold, but I’d lost my knife and couldn’t find any dry wood or anything to make fire. Suddenly