The Keeper of the Octopus, page 4
How courageous her great-grannies were! How brave the octopuses were! And the poor starving sharks. They were, after all, just being sharks.
A million questions floated around Pippy’s mind like a cloud of plankton.
Why were the sharks so hungry? Teetering Island was a seal colony, and that would have been like living next door to a butcher’s shop. So why did the sharks leave Teetering Island?
It was all very mysterious.
Her mind whirred as an unusual feeling bloomed inside of her like a pink anemone. Pippy felt excited! She tumbled out of bed, tipping poor Mussels off at the same time. Uncle Isaac was asleep in the armchair by the fire and he woke up with a startled snort.
‘I have to go to the mouth of the river!’ said Pippy, hopping up and down in front of him.
‘It’s too late, bairn,’ said Uncle Isaac, rubbing his eyes. ‘Go in the morning.’
‘I have to meet Octavia properly,’ said Pippy, pleading with her uncle, who’d rarely said ‘no’ to her in all her life.
‘Argh, go on then. Rug up, coat on, hat on,’ grumbled Uncle Isaac, helping her into them. ‘Crusty craypots, Pippy. It’s freezing out there. Don’t you be too long, bairn.’
But before he even finished his sentence, Pippy was out the door.
Pippy hurried through the gate and ran all the way to the wharf, Fairweather squawking above her, gliding on the breeze. She raced over the rope footbridge to the other side of the river and sprinted to the sea. The sun was setting low on the horizon and the water sparkled as seagulls cried their sad cry. A light south-westerly was blowing and a salty, stinky, muddy tang was hanging in the air.
To the east of the river mouth the land formed a narrow point before curving away into a sheltered shallow cove protected by rocks. Beyond the cove, the land curled away again, opening onto a vast beach with rugged, rolling surf. This was Skiffy Bay, named because it was so isolated and constantly buffeted by prevailing winds.
On the other side of the river, rocky coastal terrain veered to the south-west. It was densely covered with bracken and twisted trees that clung to the land.
Reaching the river mouth, Pippy dropped to her knees. She stared into the green waters of the river where it flowed into the sea. The water swirled as it merged with the blue of the ocean, turning into a vibrant aquamarine.
Fairweather landed on a rock beside Pippy, tapping his beak. He tilted his head at her and she reached out and stroked his warm feathers.
Pippy could hear the whistling of the wind and the stirring of the tide. She sat quietly for some time, staring into the deep water. She couldn’t see a thing moving down there. For a moment, she thought she had, but it wasn’t there now.
Once, Pippy might have dived straight in, but Mama’s drowning had made Pippy afraid of the water – angry with it, even. Now she knew that Mama hadn’t drowned, not really, she wasn’t sure how to feel. The ocean had always called to her, even when she kept her distance.
Gazing at the horizon, Pippy was a world away when a small tentacle appeared at the water’s edge.
Pippy sat bolt upright. She saw the tentacle twirl in the air. It was green and speckled with brown. The suckers were perfectly formed circles, white and pink and pearly. Pippy scrabbled over rocks, and slid on her bottom down to the water’s edge. Her heart began to pound in her chest. She felt jittery and took a few deep breaths to calm down. She really wanted to meet Octavia, but she was nervous, too.
Very slowly, very carefully, Pippy steeled herself to reach out and touch the tentacle. It was slippery and rubbery, but solid. The tentacle came further out of the water. It was cautious, but friendly, and it entwined itself in Pippy’s fingers. She could feel the pressure of its suckers gripping, popping and releasing. They left faint indentations, but Pippy was not frightened. All she could think of was Mama – this was Mama’s octopus.
The tentacled arm reached out further still, towards Pippy’s face. She wasn’t sure what it wanted, but she couldn’t back out now, so she sat very still as the octopus explored her eyes and nose, her mouth and chin. It touched Pippy’s hair and caressed her ears. Pippy wondered if Octavia recognised something of her mama in her. She hoped so.
The tentacle eased back into the sea and the water swirled in front of her. Distorted and blurry, it took Pippy a few moments to comprehend the immense size of the octopus floating just below the surface. She sat back on her bottom and gasped.
It was enormous.
Pippy had seen many sea creatures in her short ten years. Huge sea lions, giant stingrays, enormous bull sharks and whales, but she’d never seen anything in her life as big as this. She felt her heart thud in her throat.
A massive head and two curious eyes stared at her from just below the surface of the water. The pupils were rectangular and blinking. They were intelligent and inquisitive, and the octopus stared at Pippy as if she knew her.
Something inside of Pippy’s heart opened as she gazed into Octavia’s eyes. She saw herself reflected in their black depths. And in that reflection, she saw her mama. There was a connection between her and the octopus, a mutual trust, an understanding.
‘You knew my mama,’ whispered Pippy.
And it was with these words that Octavia revealed herself from the deep. She pulled herself up onto a rock directly in front of Pippy, illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun. Water gushed from her head and splashed from her sides as her tentacled arms swooshed in the water. The wind gusted and Octavia’s skin puckered into dimples. She turned from a shade of greeny brown to a beautiful pale mauve.
Pippy barely breathed as they stared at each other.
Pippy guessed Octavia’s head was about a metre wide. Her length, including her tentacled arms, was at least ten metres long, nearly as long as the Flying Seahorse. But despite her size, Octavia wasn’t beastly at all. She was impressively large, yes, but she was also beautiful.
Pippy felt an immediate familiarity with Octavia. Perhaps it was her delightful shade of mauve, her soft shyness, her gentleness in spite of the strength she must have in each tentacle. Or perhaps it was the way Octavia steadily gazed at Pippy, her head turned to one side, making Pippy’s breath soften in her throat. That was how her mama had looked at her.
For the first time in a long time, Pippy felt seen for who she was. Wholly and fully. She remained very still, holding on to this moment, with her hands entwined in one of Octavia’s tentacles. Pippy felt something she hadn’t felt in an age. A stillness, a calmness, a sense of time slowing. A sea without a swell.
Octavia’s irises were flecked with gold and ringed with a vibrant blue. There were depths within her eyes − within her bottomless black pupils − of a secret life lived, full of unbelievable experiences. This was an octopus who knew things.
The sun reached the horizon, and its last bright rays beamed across them from the west. Octavia blinked in the orange glow, and her pupils dilated as her eyelids narrowed. She was squinting. Pippy laughed; she couldn’t help it. It sounded strange, because it had been so long since she’d laughed out loud.
Octavia squirted her with water and Pippy laughed again. How did she do that? Pippy splashed Octavia back, but the octopus dodged out of the way. She may have been huge, but she was quicksilver. Her tentacles made it easy for Octavia to move both in and out of the water.
Pippy watched in delight as Octavia changed her colours. She was showing herself to Pippy, morphing into intricate patterns of ochre and yellow, brown and green and grey, then hues of white and pink, before returning to a delightful shade of purple.
Purple had been her mama’s favourite colour.
The sadness Pippy had carried around inside didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore. All those dark emotions of feeling small and insignificant dissolved like a winter fog in the warmth of a morning sun.
Pippy felt a connection with Octavia stronger than anything she’d ever felt before. And, looking at Octavia, Pippy could tell it was entirely mutual. It dawned on her that she wasn’t the only one who missed her mama. Octavia did, too.
And Pippy knew, then and there, that she needed Octavia, and that Octavia needed her.
Pippy read the Keeper’s Book well into the night. She discovered one half was a journal, dated in entries from the oldest to the newest, and the other half was information on how to care for your octopus, what to feed them and how to train them. There was so much to read that Pippy hadn’t even gotten a quarter of the way through the thick parchment pages.
There was a detailed section on signals to teach your octopus, such as how to get their attention, how to alert them to sharks and how to get them to return to their den. Pippy guessed Mama had already taught Octavia these things, but she needed to learn them herself and she looked forward to trying them out.
Another section explained how octopuses were masters of camouflage. They could change colours in an instant to blend in with rocks and coral and sand and seaweed. After meeting Octavia, Pippy could vouch for this; Octavia’s colours and patterns were varied and impressive, blending her seamlessly into her surrounds. The book also said that octopuses could change their colours according to their emotions. Pippy was fascinated to discover that the Keeper’s Book documented all the colours ever witnessed by her ancestors. Any shade of purple could mean love or happiness, red could mean anger, blue meant they felt sad or sorry, green meant understanding and shades of grey meant they felt unwell.
Early the next morning, Pippy met Wally over the back fence and showed him the Keeper’s Book.
‘Brilliant,’ breathed Wally, staring at the illustrations, open-mouthed in fascination.
‘It says here,’ explained Pippy, reading out loud, ‘“Octopuses are cephalopods, related to squid and cuttlefish.”’
‘Nautilus, too, I reckon,’ said Wally, climbing onto the fence to sit beside her.
‘Look, you’re right,’ said Pippy. She nudged him in the ribs. Wally may not have done very well at school, but he knew animals and the natural world. ‘It says nautilus here. It also says that octopuses have nine brains.’
‘Nine brains?’ said Wally, whistling. ‘What on earth for?’
‘They have a central brain,’ said Pippy, grinning. ‘And a brain in each arm.’
‘So octopus arms have a mind of their own,’ said Wally, and he guffawed with his head thrown back. Rays of warmth shot through Pippy like the summer sun.
‘I guess it makes sense,’ said Pippy, going back to the Keeper’s Book. ‘Octopuses can search for food with one arm, while the other is cracking open a shellfish. It says their arms are incredibly strong.’
‘Well, they must be strong if they can wrestle sharks,’ said Wally, referring to the old folklore tale. ‘Keep reading, Pippy.’
‘Octopuses have three hearts and their blood is blue … BLUE?’ said Pippy, wide-eyed as she and Wally stared at each other.
‘Apparently, it’s because their blood contains copper, instead of iron, like us,’ said Pippy, quickly turning the page to read on. ‘“Octopuses have an excellent sense of touch because their suckers are covered in receptors that allow them to taste what they are touching.”’
Pippy recalled how Octavia had explored her face, the tightness of her suckers on her body. ‘That’s what she was doing,’ whispered Pippy.
Wally gave her a quizzical look.
‘When I first met Octavia, she touched my face,’ said Pippy. ‘It was like she was feeling the shape of my face, but she was actually tasting me with her receptors.’
‘Oh, Mither! Weren’t you scared, Pippy?’ asked Wally.
Even though Pippy hadn’t known what Octavia was doing yesterday, she hadn’t been scared of her. And now that she knew this was how an octopus communicated, Pippy felt even more certain.
‘No,’ said Pippy, shaking her head. ‘Octavia was my mama’s octopus. This might sound silly, Wally, but … it feels like I already know her. The way she looks at me … it’s hard to explain.’
Wally gave her a crooked smile and, leaning forward, tapped the page with his finger.
Pippy clutched at the Keeper’s Book, trying to balance it on her lap as she read.
‘“Octopus eyes closely resemble our own, but their pupils are rectangular, instead of round,”’ read Pippy. ‘“Their soft bodies allow them to shape-shift and squeeze into small cracks and crevices.”’
‘I bet their squishy bodies can slip through anything,’ whispered Wally, giving a little wriggle.
Pippy’s finger trailed along the page beneath the words. ‘“The bulbous, sac-like body on top of an octopus’ head is called a mantle. This contains their organs. They can fill their mantle with water and expel it through their siphon, allowing them to move very quickly through water. The only hard part of their body is a sharp beak in their mouths.’
‘A BEAK!’ said Wally, in disbelief. They leaned together to study the illustration.
‘It looks like the beak of a parrot,’ said Pippy.
‘But it’s hidden inside its mouth,’ said Wally, laughing again.
Pippy turned to the next page and read aloud how octopuses have powerful jaws and venomous saliva.
‘Venomous!’ said Wally. ‘Mither forbid. I did not know that.’
‘They use their beaks to kill their prey by injecting venom,’ said Pippy, grinning and locking eyes with Wally.
‘God blind me, this sounds like a nightmare,’ said Wally, shaking his head.
‘“Octopuses drill holes into crabs and clamshells,”’ read Pippy, and Wally clapped his hands.
‘HOLES!’
‘I’ve seen this, Wally,’ said Pippy, in joyful realisation. ‘I’ve seen empty clam shells scattered across the sea bed with holes in them.’
Wally was still shaking his head.
‘I’d always wondered how the holes got there,’ said Pippy. ‘I guess we know now – it was an octopus at work!’
‘That’s amazing, Pippy,’ said Wally, grinning.
He reached over to hold onto one half of the Keeper’s Book, to help Pippy keep it steady, but when Pippy moved her hands a neatly folded square of parchment fell into her lap.
‘What’s this?’ said Pippy, holding it up and turning it over in her hands.
‘Go on then. Open it,’ whispered Wally, raising his eyebrows.
Pippy’s hands trembled as she unfolded the parchment. Words danced before her eyes as she quickly read it. She now understood the true meaning of the amulet and clasped it to her chest before handing the parchment to Wally.
‘It’s some sort of a ritual,’ said Wally, his voice high-pitched with excitement. ‘A pledge you need to make before you can be the Keeper of the Octopus. Pippy, this is grand!’
‘I’m not sure, Wally …’ said Pippy, feeling quivery inside. ‘It seems like a big responsibility.’
‘You’ve got to do this, Pippy,’ breathed Wally. ‘This is your family heritage … this is your destiny.’
Pippy’s scalp tingled as the amulet warmed against her skin. Wally was right, and from the moment Pippy admitted this to herself, all the pieces of her world fell into place. She was going to do this. This felt right. Pippy was going to be the Keeper of the Octopus.
The parchment stated that the ritual should be done at night, which made sense as the Keeper of the Octopus was, after all, meant to be a secret. The ritual also needed to be performed under a full moon, which they were luckily due for tonight.
Pippy gathered together a few things for the ritual: a lantern that she was to carry, flint and steel, and two candles that she pushed deep inside her pocket.
As Pippy clambered over the back fence to Cairn Cottage, she heard a whoosh overhead. She smiled. It was Fairweather flapping his wings above her. Her heart gave a squeeze − how she loved it when Fairweather was around. He quickly flew over her and landed on the roof of Cairn Cottage, where Wally lived with his grannie.
Just as Pippy was about to rap on the front door, Wally opened it, grinning as he hobbled out. In companionable silence they set off into the dark night, heading in the direction of the wharf. Fairweather tapped his beak together and took off, leading the way as if he knew where they were going.
‘I just need to check on Uncle Isaac,’ Pippy whispered to Wally as they walked past the Frayed Knot.
The Frayed Knot was Portablow’s only tavern, and a common gathering place for fishers and landlubbers alike. Squeezing through bushes, Pippy and Wally peered into a window. The tavern was brightly lit with sconce candles, leaping with loud voices and music and curling with smoke. Little Tomas, the tavern’s proprietor and a giant of a man, spotted them and waved, pointing to a corner where Uncle Isaac was chatting with Stinger Ray, Jibber Jones and Snapper Jack. Uncle Isaac was smiling brightly through his beard, and no foggy expression clouded his face.
Soon after Uncle Isaac began losing his words, he also began to wander. The first time he went missing, Pippy found him at the wharf, facing a stone wall and rocking back and forth on his heels. He was muttering gibberish and Pippy gasped when she saw a graze on his forehead.
‘Argh! A terrible thing has happened, Claudine,’ Uncle Isaac wailed at Pippy. ‘Me boat’s gone. She’s been stolen!’
Pippy wrapped her arms around him, telling him that the Flying Seahorse hadn’t been taken, but her words fell on deaf ears. Pippy knew the Flying Seahorse was his pride and joy and for him to not remember where she was moored must have been excruciating.
After that, Pippy turned for help from a few trusted friends.
‘Don’t worry, young Pippy,’ Little Tomas of the Frayed Knot said. ‘I’ve known Isaac Marguettes my entire life. He taught me to fish, he did. He’s the best of men. I’ll look out for him, and make sure he gets a square meal to boot.’
Uncle Isaac’s fellow fishers – Stinger Ray, Jibber Jones and Snapper Jack − were well aware of the decline of Uncle Isaac’s memory and were more than eager to help. They, too, promised Pippy that they’d do their best by Isaac.
