Miniature waves, surfed by water bugs, rolled back from the head of Nephi’s kayak. The water was still that day, it would have appeared stagnant if not for the way it foamed and rolled over the dispersed rocks. He thought this crisp stillness would be short lived however. The overcast weather had been lightly threatening rain all day, but a half hearted threat. Virginia weather was like that, its intentions unpredictable. Nephi took in the moment, feeling the cool breeze before began forward, setting out for the three hour paddle to Partridge Mill Boat Launch.
Nephi typically kayaked with friends, sometimes bringing along his son, or Emma, his wife. He was no stranger to the plethora of rivers in Virginia, ripe with fish and the majestic birds who subsisted on them. Especially dear to him were the waterways at the base of the blue ridge mountains, like the one he idly floated in. His sojourns on the water removed his heart from the world, and placed firmly into THE world, the one he felt was real.
If the garden was the start of human life, far off in that celestial kingdom, he often thought the river was where its memory returned to that subtle part of Him. Passing the old mill houses and forgotten dams brought his mind to a quieter time in the country’s history, but the foliage and wildlife seemed to bring back something more distant. Something from a shared memory. Perhaps all people had it in common deep down somewhere, under the thickets of individual experience. That day He didn’t rush. Rain be damned, He’d packed his raincoat, He’d take his time.
As his blue and well loved kayak snaked around the river bend he passed a yellow sign hanging from the limb of an old growth tree. It dangled in the breeze.
“Harper’s Forge”.
This was the last familiar boat launch on the route, both marking the end of the more populated area and what was once the final point on his route. He was officially “out of town” and in a virgin section of the river. Many had traveled it before, probably every day, but not Nephi and he had three hours till his final stop at Partridge. Four if he was lazy, two if he got bored.
While curving the riverbend he thought he saw a boat sliding into the water, maybe even heard it slipping from the wooden dock at the Harper’s Forge launch. The Launch and a possible boat left his sight in a second, or less even, as the curve of the landscape quickly veiled the scenery behind him. Maybe he wasn’t alone after all he thought. This thought was not so unsettling as it was annoying. Nephi loved solitude, but when the boat didn’t come back into view around the bend He assumed it must have been a passing thought, no more consequential than a speck of dandelion afloat the water. He hadn’t seen a soul since leaving his drop off point at the inlet.
Soon a large structure came into view on the water ahead of him. He slowed his already sloth adjacent pace and studied the scene before him. Looming on the bank above the river was a weathered building roughly the same in height and width, its roof protruding in a gothic point not unlike the tabernacle of which he’d attended as a child. It gave him the same feeling too, like a timeless specter. Protruding from the crumbling rock foundation was a large wooden wheel. Its circumference reached up towards the first window of the building before running down under the river below.
“The Partridge Mill”,
He thought
“I didn’t realize it would still be standing”
Using his paddle as a makeshift anchor he stopped a moment to gaze at its time-worn posture. The roof structure survived, but whatever had once kept it dry had caved in, leaving only the beams, arched still in a sharp angle. Below this was the first of two windows, much of the siding was worn away but the windows still seemed to frame a kind of impenetrable darkness. The large wheel had kept its basic shape, but half the spokes were gone. On closer inspection the submerged section was rotted away, taken by the water, even if it seemed so still.
The gentle current had pivoted Nephi’s Kayak on the axis of his paddle. He was now facing the way he came, looking backwards down the river. He didn’t know if it was this place, or just him noticing it for the first time, but the skies had further darkened, the air chilled, rain seemed more imminent.
Before he could lift his paddle to venture on he noticed something up the river. Nephi narrowed his eyes to see clearer. Far back down the river, just at the point when something would come into view he noticed a shape gliding through the water, gently breaking back the dark surf in front of it. A boat.
“I’m not alone”. This thought however, no longer felt like an annoyance. For a reason that Nephi couldn’t quite pick out, it felt worrisome. He didn’t know why. It was like the way deja vu made him feel, or something that was supposed to be completely ordinary but simply isn’t. He felt it when he was giving the keys of the priesthood, in a ceremony at his temple that involved a veil. This was all supposed to be normal, but something about the words and action in the ceremony had made him feel strange. Maybe this time it was because of the odd nature of the boat.
As it slowly drew closer it appeared to be a wooden canoe. A bigger vessel than his kayak, but still reasonable for a solo trip down the river. Although he thought it could fit four or maybe five people if it wanted too. A solitary shape sat in its center, a paddle at each hand, they sat routed through two small holes near the top of its sides. The man, it seemed likely given his stature, rowed the paddles in rhythm and harmony. This was all Nephi could make out, it was too far for any other details.
“An old man taking his old pride out for a trip”
Nephi self soothed,
“Or a highschooler, testing out his woodshop project”.
There was nothing to worry about, He said to himself. However, he no longer moved at a gentle pace, not fast, but as Nephi left he had a decidedly less leisurely tone to trip. He didn’t like the boat. It wasn’t so much the boat, as it was the feeling that sank in him when he first discerned its shape.
Continuing down the current Nephi began to look over his shoulder more frequently. Sometimes the unwelcome new partner was out of sight, behind the wall of the rivers curves, sometimes he was in view. He knew the boat was behind him, but that didn’t seem to affect his sudden jolt when he’d look back to see its looming presence, gliding with so little effort, its captain still a blurry ant, never missing a beat in this rowing. Now Nephi could hear the wooden paddles so evenly, if faintly, rising and falling from in the water.
“Woosh - tap - woosh - tap - woosh tap”
A familiar feeling came over Nephi. He’d been ignoring his hunger out of a hazy cloud of anxiety. He couldn’t think of anything in reality that put him in danger, but it hadn’t stopped him from making a series of decisions he found irrational. One was his slightly accelerated speed, another was the neglect of the sandwich and thermos of coffee He’d packed, decaf of course.
“So what, a guy has a boat, every time you have ever gone on a river trip there’s been other people”
He insisted to himself
“Yeah it’s a little old fashioned, what do you care, it’s probably an impressive rig”
He followed with, in an attempt to rationalize to his hands who, in defiance to his brain’s sense of logic, were shaking.
But hunger had made itself known, like an unruly pest in the house.
Nephi devised a plan to satisfy the two forces within him, he would simply pull onto a river bank, climb up to flat ground and eat his meal. This conveniently allowed the boat seeming comfortably closer now to pass him.
The scene already appeared humorous in his mind. The kind old man or highschooler passing, Nephi sitting on the ridge, sandwich in hand waving. They exchange some pleasantries before Nephi would climb back into his kayak, wondering why he’d ever allowed himself to become so worked up in the first place. Yes, it was a good plan.
Pulling himself over to the edge he stood up, steadying himself on a large tree root exposed by erosion. He pulled the boat up onto the bank, took his lunch pail from the rear compartment and began to climb up the steep hillside. Reaching the top he sat on the edge, legs hanging like the ivy that framed the rugged river banks on each side.
Briefly, He forgot about the wooden boat as he practically inhaled the sandwich, washing it down with warm coffee. Forbidden by his parents growing up, coffee became a favorite of Nephi’s in his teenage years. As he aged and shortly before his wedding he came back around and switched to decaf. His father, Brigham - a large and good humored man, went on a similar trajectory. They enjoyed decaf together often.
Something else now reminded him of his father. The grass. The grass that grew behind him was a thick and tall variety. Leaving his decimated meal behind him, he stood, inquisitive, at its towering edge. He remembered when his dad had told him stories of the Pioneers, how they saw grass so tall you could tie a knot around the top of a horse with it. That was about what this resembled. It also reminded him of something else.
The boat.
Cautiously Nephi made his way back to the edge, looking out over the river. He scanned the water for the boat. Perhaps it had already passed. Maybe the boat stopped as well, or got off elsewhere. Either way, he had to continue. There wasn’t all that much daylight left, maybe an hour. He estimated he had thirty to forty minutes left before he’d reach the Partridge Mill Boat Launch. The lump had returned to his stomach, although without the hunger, or any sign of the boat it was considerably smaller.
While steadying himself, with one food on the kayak, he scanned the river in both directions. Nothing but calm and serene water. The sky had even lightened a bit, bursts of light peering through the clouds, revealing a backdrop of blue. Nephi pushed himself off onto the slow current and began to make his way down stream.
He heard a familiar sound, a knot tied itself in his stomach so tightly he would have suspected appendicitis in any other situation.
“woosh-tap-woosh-tap”
It was much closer this time. It sounded like it was right behind him. Slowingly he lifted his paddle from the water and looked over his left shoulder. What he saw took away any of the fragile calm he had so delicately cultivated within himself and killed the version of him that had attempted to rationalize his original dread back at the old mill.
The boat was fifteen feet or so behind him. It was a thick wooden canoe, hand cut joints linked together the sturdy timber frame. It looked new, possibly refinished or very well kept despite its style. The ores that propelled the vessel appeared the same way, hand carved, protruding through copper lined mounts at her sides. And rowing them in even precise movements was the figure.
He wore a thick, black woolen coat, it was long and likely extended below his knees, brass buttons followed a trail up to the high collar that exposed a linen shirt, almost frilly at the neck. A tall rounded felt hat, whose rim extended long around the circumference of the man’s head was held into place by a large brass buckle. A dense shadow was cast on the man’s face, shrouding his eyes and nose. What he could see was the man’s mouth, a stern expression pasted on pale skin that was contrasted by a rich brown beard that stayed only on the man’s chin. His hands, hardy and callaced, despite ruffled white cuffs, propelled the wooden vessel further towards Nephi.
The sun emerged from behind a blanket of clouds and shed more light on the face of the figure. Above his long and crooked nose sat a pair of deep blue eyes that were glaring directly into Nephi’s. The glare was intensified by a set of angry bushy brows that did not soften from their disdain when he smiled, revealing a mixture of yellow and wooden teeth. His eyes were fixed on Nephi, his expression a grim warning, and he was rowing directly towards him.
Nephi broke from his trance. The wooden canoe was only ten feet from him, he had to begin paddling. Swinging into action He reared the kayak back on the train and began to propel himself as fast as possible. Intricate collections of light debris became rehydrated and splashed about in the current he created. It was to accelerate.
A quick birth of laughter sounded behind him. A deep voice, almost jovial and playful, but not in a way that caused comfort. Playful like a cat that taunts its rodent victim, tossing it in the air.
“How do you fare sir, why don’t you pull that vessel to the bank and rest a share”
He bellowed in a deep proclamation.
“What cheer! Hustle as fast as you can. You can’t run from what’s written for ya”
His voice betrayed a strange dialect. Nephi was reminded of a trip to the frontier culture museum as a toddler. He’d been frightened of the actor who impersonated a pioneer farmer in the exhibit. The way the man had seemed so out of place juxtaposed with his family. His father had spooked him by mimicking the voice on the car ride home. In this situation however nothing about it felt out of place on the man. It was as if Nephi had come face to face with the real thing, whereas the actor employed in the museum was a shadow.
Nephi didn’t know how long he’d be able to continue like this.
SLAM
The kayak jolted as the wooden boat slammed into the it’s side. She was big, bigger than his tiny raft by comparison. And the man at her helm was speeding up in an unfathomable manner. Twice more. SLAM. SLAM. The wooden canoe hit him again, once on his left side and once more, somehow, on the right. A deep bellow of laughter sounded off behind him. He couldn’t imagine how he switched sides like that, and in such fast succession.
They turned the river bend and Nephi saw something familiar. A yellow sign, dangling from a tree limb, less than a hundred feet ahead.
“Partridge Mill Boat Launch”
This was it. If Nephi could successfully maneuver to the opposite end of the river he’d be able to get to the ramp. Once there he’d ditch the kayak, and run up the hill to his truck. In a moment of clarity earlier that day Nephi had opted to leave his truck at the destination and have a friend drop him and his kayak at the drop in site up river. It seemed like a good plan but now was the time to act.
Plunging his paddle into the river and rearing the kayak on its side and began paddling furiously in a forty five degree angle. SLAM. He was knocked back on course by the wooden boat. The pilgrim aboard had a new fire in his eyes. A Heightened malice in his grin was prevalent.
Nephi was not ready to give up, he plunged yet again sending himself back towards the boat ramp. He was only twenty feet away now. In a sudden moment of inspiration he pushed the button in the center of his paddle. This popped the double sided paddle into two pieces. Taking a page from the book of his pursuer he duel rowed the kayak, holding a half of the paddle in each hand. I was able to travel at a considerable speed this way.
The Pilgrim, now positioned almost in a T shape in relation to him, plowed forward. The launch was ahead of Nephi but still to the left. Nephi thrust one paddle end flat into the water, creating an impact that angled the kayak in the direction of the ramp. When the wooden canoe hit him this time it slid down the side of his kayak on impact, sending the Pilgrim in a half spin and giving Nephi a jolt towards his destination.
Nehi went cruising into a rocky patch of rapids just before the launch. He bounced up and down on the rocks and leapt from his kayak. The water here was shallow, with even the slightest bit of balance he could walk to the dock.
SPLASH.
Nephi winced, hearing the loud sound of the wooden paddle in the boat behind. Nephi expected any second to be slammed into with the full force of the heavy wooden vessel.
However, when his reflexes caused him to look back he saw the Pilgrim resting stagnant. He had anchored the wooden boat just above the rapids, twenty feet from Nephi. He sat there stationary. His face now returned to the blank expression from the first meeting of the two. The Pilgrim broke the silence.
“Today you walk free, to dilly in the short grass and brush shoulders with world,
Tomorrow I will teach you the same lesson I taught my brood. You will have to see what they saw, and what I see in these waters every day. Pray, Remember me”
Slowly he lifted the dripping wooden ores and began to effortlessly row back up river against the current, all the while still facing forward, staring into Nephi’s eyes. A smooth crescendo as before, only in reverse.
Eventually his figure became small, and he disappeared around the bend in the river just as he had come. Nephi slowly and cautiously, ventured back. With quivering hands he pulled the kayak onto the rocks and then pulled his soaking bruised body onto the dock. He noticed something glimmer on the seat of his mostly waterlogged boat. A small brass button. He put it in his pocket, although he wasn’t sure why.
Nephi’s truck stood in the center of the gravel lot,a glimmer of hope, the final victory would be turning the key. He strapped the kayak to the back, and patted it lightly with his open hand, like all dads do, as if to say “Yep, that’s not going anywhere”.
He was distracted from unlocking the car door by a small speck of bronze in the tree line. For the last time he walked towards the river’s edge where it stood. Obscured partially by the trees was a plaque. The kind you see at courthouses and battlefields throughout the southern United States. Pushing back the foliage he saw it clearly. In gold embellished letters it read.
“Partridge Mill Boat Launch
Named in Memory of the Old Patridge Mill,
The sight of the tragic deaths of
Constance, Patience and Elanor Partridge
In 1783 Mrs. Constance Partridge and her two daughters
passed tragically in a boat accident while fleeing a fire at the Millhouse.
The well loved father, Mr. Samson Partridge
Was never found, or seen again”
Nephi felt the brass button in his pocket.
“Never found or seen again huh?”
With a slight chuckle he added
“Until today at least”