Broken Compass
Story by Allison Quaid. Illustrations by Sarah Painting.
In the middle of a churning ocean, a storm followed a young woman named Neblina. Her golden hair tangled into knots by a wind that howled like a pack of wolves. A cloud, black as pitch, scattered with white-blue lightning bolts bore down on Neblina’s tiny boat. She threw all of her strength into working the oars. The wind fought against her, threatening to tip her boat.
The cloud seemed to shift shapes. When she had fled her home in terror, she could have sworn the cloud was a giant fist and a screaming face. Now it appeared to her as a dragon, then a whale with mouth wide open to swallow her whole. She couldn’t outpace the storm. She grabbed a tarnished compass that bounced on a string around her neck. She tried to navigate, but the needle spun wildly. Neblina was unable to find true north and a safe harbor.
She’d been at sea nearly a full day. The storm showed no sign of stopping. Her stomach lurched; her mouth begged for water free of salt. She tried to turn the boat, guessing at the direction of home, but the wind gave an almighty gust and her boat was spinning as wild as her compass. She used one oar with both hands like a rudder and attempted to steady the vessel. It didn’t help. She was lost.
As days turned into weeks, the storm cloud remained above her head. It spat rain which she collected from her soaking hair and clothes to drink. She learned to catch fish. She beat them with her oars or used bits of litter she found in the roiling waves to make hooks and lures. She used her hair or strands of rotting rope for a line.
As weeks turned to months, she often curled up in the damp bottom of the little wooden boat, dreaming of the island where her aunt lived. She recalled smiling faces and the warm hug of her aunt. She longed for the excited yips and wagging tail of her collie, her best friend, Rhiannon. She hungered for the sensation of warm soup running down her throat and the smell of butter melting on fresh-baked bread. Sometimes, if she was lucky, crates from ships long gone floated beside her. They were full of food meant for markets. Sometimes, if she was lucky, it wasn’t rotted.
Months turned to years. Her golden hair showed streaks of silver. She no longer thought of going home.
Turtles and dolphins tossed in the waves. They swam to her boat with hooks in their mouths or nets tied fast around their necks. They knew that she would free them. Each day new creatures appeared behind her boat, risking the storm to have use of her gentle fingers. She could not refuse them. Her thoughts whirled in circles as she rushed from bow to stern, casting lines and untangling nets.
The gulls, their feathers ruffled as they fought to keep steady in the whipping wind, screamed, “Feed us! Feed us! Your storm has trapped us. You must feed us!” She scrambled each day to catch enough fish for herself and the victims of the storm she could not refuse to help.
One day a figure appeared struggling in the waves. Her heart skipped a beat. A thin man with long unruly black hair clutched a floating mast. She called to him. His head raised; face full of disbelief. His eyes begged for help. But his head fell back onto the mast.
For the first time in years, Neblina fought the rising waves. She lifted the oars. A strong current carried her away from the man. But she leaned into her work until her boat bumped against the broken mast. Neblina grasped the man’s arm and hauled him onboard. She emptied her last drops of fresh water into his month. He mouthed a thank-you. She offered him a half-peeled banana wondering if his ship had been the one to carry it.
He ate slowly, his mouth hardly moving. Then the strange man slept for a whole day and half a night. Neblina watched him- ignoring the shrieking gulls. She could not remember the last time she’d seen a human face. “I have been lost in open water, tossed without direction or hope, for a very long time.”
When at last he woke, she asked, “What happened? Where were you headed?”
“The Caribbean,” his voice was barely audible. ‘The captain was a drunk. He ran us aground in the middle of the night. Waves near the shore are always the most brutal. We capsized, and the boat sank.”
“Were you far from your destination?” asked Neblina. As she spoke, she glanced down at her spinning compass, as if it might suddenly point the way forward.
“Only three days more and we’d have made it safe and sound.”
He paused to study her, “Do you know where we are?”
“I … well, of course I …”
“Are you lost?” he asked.
Her eyes stared at the bottom of the boat, “Yes.”
“Where is your home?”
“I don’t know,” she said, realizing suddenly the truth of her answer. “I’ve been here a very, very long time.”
Nablina held the compass on her palm. She was hypnotized by its ceaseless swirling. Tears washed her wind-burnt cheeks. The man gently closed her fingers over the compass and leaned forward to catch her gaze.
“You don’t need that,” he said. “It’s broken. It can’t help you.”
She pulled her hand away and pressed the compass to her chest. “I can’t get rid of it. I know it will work one day.”
The man looked up at the ominous cloud above the boat. “It is difficult to navigate with a storm following you. But I can teach you to navigate by the stars at the edge of the horizon. We can head for my island. My sister is waiting for me there. I’ve brought back a rare medicine to treat her disease.” He patted his pants’ pocket. “Once we get there and you rest, you can decide where you want to go.”
His bright teeth blazed in contrast to his golden skin. She let out a sigh of relief. She had not relaxed in years. The man’s warm brown eyes looking at her brought warmth to her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she said, “What is your name?”
“Felipe.”
“I’m Neblina.” A smile grew slowly.
“Maybe we’re destined to help each other find our way home, Neblina,” he said, eyes twinkling.
The storm never ceased.
The black cloud covered almost all the stars. But Felipe persisted. His eyes never left the sky as he waited for the winds to move the cloud so he could catch a glimpse of the clear sky beyond. He carved star charts in the bottom of the boat and he taught Neblina their meanings. In the daytime, he took up the oars and fought the storm, trying to steer the direction the stars provided. All the while Neblina kept up her frantic routine. She fed the demanding gulls. She pulled hooks from the gills of helpless creatures. She checked the broken compass.
One day, Neblina caught Felipe staring at her while she studied his star maps. She was trying to orient herself among the constellations to determine their direction.
“What?” she asked.
“Your compass needle is slowing,” he said.
She snatched it up and stared at it. Its spinning had slowed by nearly half. A smile lifted her sunburnt cheeks. Then a dolphin’s high sonar call drew her attention, and something slapped against the side of the boat. Felipe watched the needle double its speed again as she jumped up to help the creature.
“Have you ever considered that the compass might point you home if you sat still and focused on where you want to go?” he said.
Neblina bent over the boat, her fingers working to pull a hook from the frantic dolphin’s blowhole. She called out, “What?”
He repeated the question.
She snorted. “That’s ridiculous. The compass needs to work before I can find my way home.”
“Maybe the needle’s not the problem,” he said.
“Of course, it is!” she said, throwing up her hands as she freed a hook between her fingers. “I can’t get home because the storm won’t leave me alone. I don’t have a minute’s peace. That’s why you’re teaching me about the stars.”
“You can’t get home because you won’t steer your boat,” he insisted. “You’re too busy giving those greedy gulls whatever they want and trying to save every creature in the sea.”
“I tried steering! For years! Years!” she screamed. Her eyes burned with angry tears. “Don’t you understand? Steering is useless in this wind. I can’t get free of this damned storm! At least I’m doing something! The gulls are trapped by the storm, just like me. I have to help them.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no idea you’d been out here that long.” His eyes softened as he looked at her, and he reached over to steady her.
She sat down, wiping away the tears. “I am tired of it all. I’m sorry.”
She raised her head and attempted a smile.
Instead, her mouth fell open. “Land! Land!” she cried.
He turned to follow her gaze. They saw palm trees swaying on land on the horizon.
Felipe began shouting for joy. She joined him. But as they approached a beach, Felipe’s face fell.
“That is not my island.” He investigated the sky. “Curse that cloud! I must have missed something in the stars.”
“But it is land, Felipe! Land! I haven’t seen land since …” She could not finish the sentence. She was too overcome by the swelling of her heart. She thought, “If Felipe has gotten us to land, maybe he could get me home.”
She sat beside him and took up one of the oars. A gull cried, “Hungry! I’m hungry! Feed me before I starve!” She ignored its cries, whispering, “You will be free of this boat soon, little friend.”
The crashing waves sent the boat careening onto the sand. Felipe kept it upright. Neblina leapt from the boat. She lay on the sand, squishing it between her fingers and toes. The sun warmed the top of her head and the cloud began to disappear.
“Come on,” said Felipe, grabbing her hand, pointing, “I think I know this island. I recognize that outcropping. We have to get to the south side. There will be boats passing.”
“But what about my boat?” she said.
“Leave it.”
“No! How will I get home?”
“There are many ships that can take you home. Neblina, you’ll never reach home in that boat with the storm at your back.” He fixed her with an intense gaze. “And neither will I.”
“We have to take it! I won’t go without it!” she argued. “I need it to get home. It’s all I have. Besides, we may need it to reach the passing ships. Look, Felipe, the winds have died down. The cloud is parting.”
He used their last bit of rope to haul the small rowboat along behind them. They walked side by side along the shore, avoiding the thick jungle that grew at the island’s center.
They stopped only once to crack open coconuts, drink its sweet milk and chew its flaking skin. When they could go no further, they lay on the cool sand to sleep away the last few hours of night.
The winds grew silent and they talked of all the things they would do when they reached his island. Felipe told her about his mother who made ‘the best tamales’, and his twin sister who was very sick but used to be the fastest swimmer in all the islands.
Neblina shared stories about her best friend who made animal faces with her pigtails. She described her aunt’s baked bread, the pink hibiscus flowers in her garden, and the copper stove that always provided a place to warm herself.
“Where are your parents?”
Neblina shook her head. “I don’t remember them. I went to live with my aunt when I was eight.”
“You are brave and very resourceful to have survived so long. Aren’t you lonely?”
“I am not. The storm keeps me busy. The animals accompanied me. And I’m too miserable to dream of anything else.” She laughed nervously.
Felipe looked at the sand for a long time. “I also am very busy, but in a different way. I’m running my family’s shipping business, and I have no time for myself.”
“Aren’t there any nice girls in your town?”
“I did not have time to find out,” he said. “I don’t want to disappoint my father. He started the business and expects his dream to carry on.”
“At least you are not lost,” she said.
Felipe arched his eyebrows, pursed his lips together, and nodded. “Perhaps. But I also dream of a home that I can call my own. I want to be with someone who will let me be me.” He stroked her hand. “You make me feel at home,” he whispered.
Neblina felt the warmth of his hand spread through her body. She closed her eyes, giddy with the sensation of heat and comfort. They fell asleep hand-in-hand.
When the sun woke them, they began anew - hauling the boat behind them. Neblina’s gulls perched patiently on its bow. The dark cloud stubbornly followed them. On the southern side of the island, Felipe leapt into the air in triumph. Ships of all sizes dotted the horizon. A large cruise ship was coming their way, passing close to his home island.
“We can swim to the ship,” said Felipe.
“No, we should row,” said Neblina. She glanced at her old boat where the carvings of star charts seemed to glow on the discolored wood.
Felipe looked from the boat, to Neblina, to the dark cloud. “I’m sorry, Neblina. I must get back to my sister. I cannot get in your boat. Please, come with me. I want to help you. Leave it behind. It has done nothing for you. Leave your compass, too.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, clutching the compass and backing toward the boat. “Come Felipe, row with me.”
He shook his head, and with sad eyes he said, “Goodbye, Neblina. I must go. That boat will not take you where you want to go.”
He ran into the sea and dove into the waves. His strong arms rose and fell, his feet propelled him toward the cargo ship. People appeared on the deck pointing at him. A few feet from the shore, the waters stilled, as he glided like a dolphin, unencumbered by the storm that still tugged at Neblina’s matted hair. She knew she would never see him again. She would never get home.
He turned back toward her and gestured for her to follow him as he neared the boat.
She was stuck. Her feet remained anchored in sand.
Someone from the cruise ship threw Felipe a life vest. He slipped it on and was hoisted to safety. He waved wildly again for her to come. But she couldn’t move. The ship turned in the direction of the island and sailed onward.
Neblina sobbed tears of despair and fury. The cloud re-opened above her head, gushing freezing rain on her hair.
She screamed, “I’m lost, someone help me! SOMEBODY…”
The blistering wind stole the rest of the words. She crouched down on her knees as sand tore at her skin. The canopy of palms dropped leaves and small branches on her. head. She crawled frantically toward the dark thicket of the island’s core until at last saw the black maw of a cave. Inside, she cowered in the dark chamber, pressed against rock. Though the wind howled outside, it could not reach her within the walls of the cave.
Neblina hugged herself, trembling with each new wave of sobs. She rocked back and forth. It’s hopeless, she thought, I’m lost. And now I’m alone. I am not strong enough to row by myself. No matter how many creatures I save, none of them can pull me to shore. I’m doomed to remain at the mercy of the sea and the storm. I want it to end. I can’t do this anymore.
Inside the cave she was enclosed by silence. No gulls. No wind. No rain. She closed her eyes, and the thoughts of the black cloud, the raging waves, and the loss of Felipe’s friendship consumed her. She curled up like a baby and at last fell asleep.
In her dream, she was home in her cabin by the sea. She woke in warm quilts and heard the waves crashing against the nearby cliff. The air was chill but crisp. She smelled bacon cooking and coffee brewing. The thick aromas coaxed her out of bed. She put on soft slippers and went downstairs. A black cloud hovered in the kitchen. It had taken on the shape of a man with an open screaming mouth and a large, closed fist. Lightning danced in this cloud man’s eyes. It turned from the skillet on the stove and charged at her, shouting obscenities, and she raced back up the stairs. She slammed the door. The cloud man slammed against it. He pounded harder, louder. She covered her ears and cowered on the floor. Then, she awoke in the cave. Her heart pounded with panic as the details of the dream were fading.
A thought rose in her mind, I will never go home. Her eyes cast about. She was lost in the cave. Feeling more desolate than ever, she closed her eyes again. This time, she remembered her aunt’s cabin. A turquoise tablecloth covered a wooden table outside, overlooking a rocky beach. Smiling faces came to mind, and her aunt’s blue eyes. Thick green palms waved left to right like Hula dancers on the green hills. Glasses of cane juice and a pile of books were on the floor and in her lap. Pages alive with stories of daring heroines and kindhearted strangers. There was safety and warmth by the fire. She inhaled slowly, letting warm memories steep in her heart.
She found solace in these memories and when she woke up the next day it was with a hopeful smile. She heard birds chirping and the playful splash of the waves against the shore outside, the wind no longer obscuring the happy sounds of life. She walked out of the cave, joy brightening her face, and looked up into the blue sky. Her stomach rumbled with hunger. Within a few steps from the cave, she found ripe mangos and bananas. She spotted the wooden tips of huts poking out from the trees further within the island and heard voices. She retreated back to the cave and began gathering logs of wood.
Every morning she walked on the beach, finding comfort in the soft but solid sand beneath her feet and the warm sun on her face. In the afternoons, she collected more wood.
After a few weeks, as Neblina was out on her morning walk, she saw a group of villagers gathered in a circle on the beach. They were waving their hands and calling for help. Her throat tightened and she paused. As a woman moved away from the group, she saw a baby dolphin stuck in a fisherman’s net in the center of the circle. She ran toward the dolphin at the center of the group. The dolphin squealed with pain, thrashing about the net.
Neblina bent down and started stroking the dolphin while humming an old melody just as she used to while lost at the sea. Soon the baby dolphin relaxed. Neblina and the villagers were able to loosen the nets around the dolphin and carried it back to the sea.
Neblina saw an old woman smiling kindly at her. She thought of her aunt and smiled back at the woman. The villagers thanked her for her help and invited her to join them for dinner. Every week, she dined with them and slowly started to make new friends.
During one such dinner, as the remains of the fish stew was emptied from the bowls, she realized she could build a new place here, on this beautiful island with this community who accepted her as she was. It didn’t have to be her old home. It didn’t even need to look like it. It just needed to feel like her aunt’s home. She stood up and the compass swung at her neck. She held it in her palm and saw the needle had stilled and was pointing at her chest. She smiled. She was home.
“Felipe was right,” she said. “The stiller I am, the clearer I can see where I want to go. He showed me part of the way home.”
It took time and sweat and ingenuity, but eventually, with the help of the villagers she built a thatched-roof house in a clearing of its own, overlooking the sea. A freshly planted garden sat in its front yard. The house was small, just two rooms, but it was sturdy. Neblina fashioned a sign from the weathered boards of her boat with Felipe’s star charts on them and carved Home Sweet Home in the planks.
As she hammered it into the ground with a flat rock, a bird with bright blue plumage perched in the branches above Neblina’s head. It didn’t scream or caw or demand. It sang, high and sweet, and Neblina whistled along with it.