He heard soft footsteps from the next room. The small tanned boy toddled toward him, the daze of sleep still in his eyes.

"Grampy," he said.

The old man stretched out his arms toward the boy inviting him closer. They touched and the old man lifted his grandson upon his lap.

"Watch," he said to the little one, "Kaharna is awakening."

A glint of gold touched the horizon then fed its glitter to the sea: the night surrendered to the morning glow. The old man hugged his grandson - the love and life of the land awakened with the dawn.

The fishing village began to stir. The hearths were heated herring and haddock were fried in the big pans, yesterday's bread was broken and eaten. The fisher-hut chimneys floated delicate strands of smoke above the village gently suspended in the sky. They hung like gulls out at sea observing the earth from above. The first fishermen went down to their boats, treading the cobblestone paths in tall boots and jumping with thuds onto the decks of their crafts. Lines were lifted, nets were checked, sails were hauled high to the tops of their masts; The men coughed and shouted, The boats slowly moved out onto the sparkling pearl that was Kaharna.

The old man's name was Solomon. He stood up and placed his grandson on the floor, then went to awaken his family.

"Naloma," he whispered gently, touching his granddaughter on the temple.

Like mist rising from a pond sleep left the young girl and she awoke. She shook her long black hair and softly, "Thank you grandfather."

She got to her knees and stretched, the long slender body tensing for a moment then relaxing. She smiled at the thought of the new day, time to have fun, to witness the beauty of the sea and land, to live and feel.

Solomon went to the next room where his son and daughter-in-law were sleeping. He aroused them from their slumber also, then went outside and across the cobblestone path to the hut of his youngest son. There he knocked on the door till he heard a stir. The door opened a crack and a female voice answered, "Thank you grandfather." It was Hanani, the wife of his youngest son.

Naloma was up and about fiddling with the cooking fire. She hated cooking and woman's work - much preferring to go out upon the sea with her grandfather where she felt free and happy; unencumbered by the fixed ideas of the village people and their roles in life. But to appease her parents she would start the cooking fire and fry the haddock or herring for the morning meal.

The fire soon caught and began to crackle and blaze. She unfastened the big black skilled from its hook on the wall and smeared some fish oil in it, then set the pan on the hearth to heat. Next, she shuffled to the door and opened it; the day lay before her clear and bright. The sea sparkled deep blue, displaying its splendor before the village. She peered down the cobblestone path toward the pier, her deep brown eyes sparkled with excitement, for soon she knew she would be out there upon the sea - smelling it, feeling it, loving its every facet and foible. Her heart thumped excitedly as she closed the door, walked back to the hearth, and began laying the fillets of haddock in the breadcrumbs and placing them in the sizzling oil.

Soon they were golden brown and ready for the plate.

The door opened. Solomon walked in and impishly winked at her. They both knew that expression - that wink.

He leaned toward her and whispered, "It's a great day for fishing - hurry with your chores."

Naloma lifted the lines off the cleat and threw them into the boat. She took one long step and landed on the gunwale of the vessel. The craft slipped gracefully away from the pier rippling the smooth water gently as it glided along. The surface of the sea was so smooth that it appeared oily. Naloma gazed overboard into its depths; the water was turquoise blue, transparent and clear. She could see the bottom some twenty feet below slipping by as the boat slowly made its way toward the open sea.

She and her grandfather had a very special relationship for their minds were similar and their hearts beat to the same joys. To them, their work was play frolicking with wind and wave they exalted each other far above the work-a-day world of the ordinary fisher-folk; they lived and loved life itself, its every thread and fiber, and together they molded it into something much finer than mundane meat and mud. Solomon's son were mildly jealous of his relationship with his granddaughter for it was seldom that either of them sailed the same boat with him, he preferring Naloma as his sail-master and first-mate. They even mentioned it to him once. He laughed it off but made it a point to pay more attention to them, carefully teaching them the ways of net and sail.

Naloma and Solomon shared a secret. A secret so strange and singular, that even they made little mention of it among themselves. Only when they were far at sea and alone did they come together to live it in all its majesty. Solomon had discovered it as a young man and lived it alone for many years before he entrusted it to his granddaughter.

Naloma looked up from the ocean bottom and walked to the main mast. Solomon already had the sails trimmed; they billowed softly as there was only the slightest of breezes. She began preparing the nets for the days catch, neatly laying and folding them upon the deck so they could be easily let run into the sea when the right moment came. Gulls glided high above searching for their breakfasts of fish, calling to the winds and waves, screeching in their shrill voices to the Gods of heaven and sea. The nets were soon set and Naloma went to the helm where Solomon sat cross-legged. The old face smiled, the wrinkles creased into fine lines around the mouth.

"It will be time soon," he said.

She nodded with a slight smile. Solomon scanned the horizon and shore - no boats to be seen. The shoreline was far away now, about ready to disappear from view - the moment was approaching.

He touched Naloma on the shoulder and whispered, "Now!"

She went to the stern of the vessel where the nets were neatly laid and began throwing them overboard allowing them to run freely in a smooth even stream out into the sea. After a few minutes all the nets were laid. She looked up at her grandfather who motioned her toward him and gave her the helm. Her excitement grew as she took hold of the wooden handle. Her soft brown hair gently flowed in the breeze, her heart thumped expectantly.

Solomon went to the prow and unhooked the long wooden paddle fastened to the gunwale. He grasped it firmly in both hands and stood straight up. He raised it above his head and brought it down as hard as he could upon the water. He repeated the action three times, waited a few moments, and then repeated the actions.

Finally the signal was answered. The water near the prow began to bubble and seethe. A dark shadow began to move from out of the depths. Naloma peered overboard into the azure deep; awe and wonderment burst in her breast. A green head broke the surface, dark eyes looked up at Solomon and blinked. Half fish, half serpent it appeared, as if from the shadows of one's nightmares.

"O'Leen!" cried Solomon in a loud voice, "O'Leen - Brother of the Waves, Keeper of the Deep - do our bidding from the sea!"

The great green head looked skyward then disappeared into the azure depths - within the hour the nets of Solomon were ladened with gifts from the sea.

ŠAll rights reserved by Ken Sereno