“Are you sure you’re okay?” Luke asked, into the wind.
“Just nervous.”
So nervous that a pain in her stomach started up and she had to lean forward to try to ease the burning.
“I have a feeling these guys know what they’re doing,” he said.
“I sure hope so.”
Maybe she ought to ask him to turn around. This was too much for her to take. But that would mean giving in, and she couldn’t do it.
A few minutes later. “Almost there now.”
Minnow forced herself to sit up.
“I’m ready,” she said, although she felt anything but.
Get it together.
The sun was still behind Hualalai, but they could see the lay of the land now, passing another long beach with a thatched A-frame hut at the end of it. The harbor buoys came into sight, but there were no other boats in the water. Odd for such a busy harbor. When Luke turned around the red buoy and headed into the boulder-lined harbor mouth, Minnow saw that a crowd had gathered on the wall. Several flags hung flat in the still of the morning. Below the people, boats were lined up side to side across the entire entrance.
“What the—” Luke said.
A surge of adrenaline ran through her. “Oh my God! They’re blocking the harbor.”
Luke put the boat in neutral, and they floated there, unsure what to do. Then someone from the wall whistled and waved his arms and pointed at Minnow and Luke. He was trying to gain the attention of one of the boat drivers. That ratty coconut frond hat was hard to miss.
“It’s Woody,” she said.
The boat in the middle backed up, and a guy standing in the bow of the boat next to it yelled, “Hooey. You. In here.” He motioned for them to slip through the space between.
The shortness of breath and pain in her midsection faded. “Go. They’re letting us through,” she said.
Luke was already maneuvering them in. They squeaked into theharbor and up to an open spot where boats rinsed. Woody was standing on the edge and he offered Minnow a hand.
“Is this your doing?” she asked.
“Cliff.”
“Where is he?”
Woody nodded toward a row of trucks over by the boat ramp. This time she could see that the flags were Hawaiian but upside down.
“He’s over there talking to the news. And the cops.”
The harbor was not a big one as far as harbors went, but with all the fishing tours in Kona, there were still a lot of charter boats whose captains were probably pissed off right now.
“Are they letting anyone out into the ocean?”
“Just a couple of the regulars who go down south. Bruddahs we trust. Come.”
As they made their way to the trucks, Minnow couldn’t help but smile inside. This was exactly the thing they needed. Grassroots all the way. A middle finger to Lum and his shitty decision-making.
Newspeople had crowded around the trucks and a chaos of boats on trailers had collected in a wide asphalt parking area. Every now and then someone honked or yelled. But these trucks were big and so were the men who owned them. Some stood in their beds, others were on the ground being interviewed or looking intimidating. Heat swelled in the morning air and Minnow felt lightheaded amid it all. She counted five cop cars, but the cops didn’t seem to be doing much other than standing around talking. As though this kind of thing was routine.
Up ahead Cliff was talking with Josh Brown and the cameraman. His silver-streaked hair flowed halfway down his back and he wore a piece of fabric wrapped around him and tied on his shoulder. He held a big conch shell in his hand. When he saw Minnow, he raised his chin slightly in acknowledgment. Josh had his back to her and he didn’t turn, so she and Woody stopped behind him, eavesdropping.
Cliff spoke softly but with conviction. “. . . On this whole coastline,we only have a handful of beaches and hotels. If you do the math, there are so few people utilizing these waters that it makes no sense to go out there and start raping the ocean. This place belongs to the sharks, not the people.”
