Caged Eagles Read Online Free PDF

the Japanese-Canadians from working would make things run better?
    I walked over to my father’s side. “Are we putting in at a dock?” I asked, although I realized as soon as I asked that there wouldn’t possibly be space for all the boats to dock.
    Without looking at me he shook his head. “At anchor with all the other boats … those from up and down the coast.” He pointed up ahead.
    My eyes widened in surprise at the sight. There were fishing boats — hundreds and hundreds of them — at anchor, bobbing up and down on the waves. I had never seen so many fishing boats in one place, not even clustered around the mouth of the Skeena during the salmon run, and it was hard to believe there were that many boats along the whole coast.
    My father turned the wheel and brought our boat around, looking for a spot to anchor. He found a patch of open water amidst the clutter of other boats, and I could hear the engine become quieter as he throttled back. He cut the engine even further, took it out of gear and motioned for me to go out. I knew without asking that he wanted me to put out the anchor.
    Zipping my jacket and jamming my hat on my head, I went out into the cold air. I moved carefully around the side of the cabin to the bow. Quickly I grabbed the anchor, lowered it over the side. I released the gear on the winch and stepped out of the way as first the chain and then the heavy line paid out of the anchor hatch. Once the anchor reached bottom, I fed out some more line and then signaled to my father. He put the engine in reverse and the boat slowly back up until the anchor set and the line went taut. I went back into the warm cabin.
    â€œI must go ashore,” my father said. His words were so soft that I had to strain to hear them over the noise of the wind and the waves. “I am to be told what is planned for us.”
    â€œCan I come with you?”
    He shook his head. “This is only for the head of each family. You have a job.” He paused and I waited wordlessly. “While I am gone you are in charge … in charge of the boat … and those on the boat. Do you understand?”
    â€œYes … yes, sir.”
    He turned his head slightly in my direction and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. I followed him out of the cabin.
    â€œYour mother is putting on rice. I’ll be back before too long.”
    I had noticed that a rowboat had been put out from one of the fishing boats. It was moving between vessels like a water taxi, probably picking up men to bring to the town for the meeting. My father raised his hand in greeting as the boat came toward our vessel. It contained three men already, people I knew from our village. As it came alongside our boat, my father nodded to me, then climbed into the rowboat, and it started away. I watched as it stopped at another fishing boat, picking up one more passenger. With the weight of the five men in the small boat, only a few inches of gunwale showed above the water line. I was grateful it was calm in the protected waters. A big wave would have washed right over the edge. The little boat bobbed up and down gently, quickly becoming smaller and smaller as it moved toward the shore. I followed it with my eyes, watching as it disappeared and reappeared from behind other boats, until I saw it put in safely at the dock.
    I wished more than almost anything that I could have gone along. The only thing worse than knowing our fate was being decided somewhere on that shore was not being able to be there to hear what was being said. Instead I sat out here, the deck rocking under my feet … waiting … waiting … waiting. My grandmother has often said that the Japanese are the most patient people.
    I guess I must be more Canadian than anybody knew.
    My attention was caught by the sound of the cabin door opening. I turned to see my sister Midori.
    â€œTea is made,” she said.
    â€œYou know I don’t like green