The Gold Rush
“Gold.” He rubbed his hands together, a boyish look of giddiness on his face.
“Gold?” she asked, not quite sure what he was talking about.
“There’s gold being mined on an island called Woodlark. Now that we’ve docked at Alotau, I was thinking we could make a trip across Milne Bay to Woodlark Island and do a little gold prospecting of our own.” He spoke the words quickly, excitedly. She saw the glint in his eyes.
“Really? And here I thought we’d get some land time. Relax. Do a land tour of some sort.” She was tired of the sea, tired of Shaun’s energy, though she didn’t want to tell him that. She’d hoped he’d be happy to sit for a few days.
“It will only take me a day to restock the boat, stitch that section of the sail that’s starting to rip and then set our navigational equipment to cross Milne Bay.” He gulped down his last swig of morning coffee and jumped up. “Which means, Chrissy, that you’ve got the day to do what you like. How do ya like that?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. A sudden tornado of energy, he almost ran off the balcony to the dresser. Grabbed his wallet and phone. Held up the room key for Chrissy to see and bounded out the door.
Chrissy looked out across the bay, wondering what they’d find on the far side of Milne Bay. She sat back and closed her eyes. Why do these bursts of energy always catch me off guard? she thought. “Gold,” she mocked. “Like that’s gonna happen.”
She thought about the last two weeks, sailing from Sydney, Australia and around to Alotau, Papua New Guinea. All Shaun’s idea. Number one on his bucket list, he’d told her. She agreed, though she’d never sailed more than a few hours at a time. She didn’t realize how much of a land-baby she was until they’d been out on the ocean for two days. Sun tanning from the bow of the boat got old real fast. But she didn’t have the heart to tell Shaun.
She popped the last piece of papaya into her mouth. Sweet and juicy. She hoped Shaun would grab some papaya for their venture. Then she sighed, walked back into the room, and crawled back into bed.
(Two days later)
“There,” Shaun shouted, pointing to something off port side, a map in his hand. “I see land.”
“Where?” Chrissy was so exasperated by then that she didn’t even want to look. She squinted and looked across the water, hoping he was right. It looked like land, though she wasn’t sure.
“That must be Woodlark Island.” His confidence was getting tiresome.
“You’ve said that for a day now. Port side. Stern side. We’ve seen nothing.” She waved her hands through the air, then crossed her arms. “According to what you said, we probably past Woodlark Island yesterday. What’s north of that, is my question.”
“Hon. It’s not my fault the guy at the Alotau docks gave me the wrong information.”
She didn’t have the strength to argue. “I’m going below. My head hurts.” The tropical sun was getting to her.
“It’s there, I tell ya,” he yelled down to her a minute later.
“Fine. Let me know when you drop anchor.” As if she wouldn’t know. She lay down to wait.
(One hour later)
“We made it. Didn’t I tell you we would?” He ran up the beach to the thick jungle’s edge. “C’mon, let’s go find some gold.” He yelled to her, not noticing that she’d plopped down in the sand to simply rest.
She got up slowly. “Coming,” she said quietly. She followed the hacking sound of a machete. Who does he think he is? David Livingstone? She let out a loud guffaw.
Breathing heavily, she finally caught up to him. He’d come up on a large clearing, but he wasn’t moving. It was the stillest she’d seen him in days. She looked at his face. It held a look she’d never seen before. A look of dejection and disappointment. A look of defeat.
She turned and looked across the clearing and burst out laughing — the kind of laugh she’d forgotten she even had. She bent over and let it out, not giving a thought to Shaun’s state.
“Yams,” she giggled, straightening up. “We went out looking for gold and we’ve discovered yams!”
Story based on writing prompt: https://medium.com/microcosm/writing-prompt-1-the-trobriand-people-ee05ed338095
