The Reef (18 page)

Jennifer stood up and reached for the corkscrew. ‘Yeah. I shouldn't open more wine, but what the hell. Today I did something I've never done before, something that scared me – and I survived. And . . . I'm pregnant! Blair doesn't know and probably won't be thrilled. But, you know what? I don't care.'

Rosie took the corkscrew from Jennifer and reached for the bottle of wine. ‘I'm going to have another glass. You stick to soda. Here's looking at you, kid!'

The first mutton bird of the night shrieked outside, but it was drowned out by the peals of laughter from inside the little cabin nestled amongst the sand and trees.

Strangers on the Shore

L
LOYD STEERED THE LAUNCH
into the deep channel of the outer reef where the turquoise water changed to indigo above the continental shelf. Jennifer sat in the half cockpit beside him, sheltering from sun and spray as Blair held the fishing rod Lloyd had set to trawl behind, hoping for a strike.

‘Are there big fish down there?' she asked above the engine.

‘Used to be . . . fishing has gone off in the last few years. That's why they're banning commercial fishing inside the reef, to give stocks a chance to replenish. Those bloody nets take everything.'

She looked back at Blair holding the long
flexible rod in one hand and a beer can in the other. ‘I didn't know Blair liked fishing.' Though he didn't look particularly comfortable.

Lloyd had a similar thought. ‘He'll get a shock if he gets a marlin, Spanish mackerel or tuna strike. Living on the island you take up interests you mightn't have had before, I guess. No laid-on city entertainment around here,' he grinned. Lloyd was in his late twenties and had always lived near the ocean. Boats, especially sailing, were his passion.

‘So what do you do when you go back to the mainland?' asked Jennifer, imagining that like most of the other young staffers he'd head for a pub, bar or club. ‘Go to a footy match?'

‘Nope. My breaks are busman's holidays' . . . I work in my dad's boatshed out of Headland. He builds and repairs marine craft. Has a big slipway. A lot of boats put in there when sailing up the coast.'

‘Hey, Jenny, come and hang on to this. I'm going to the head.'

Gingerly Jennifer edged into the swivel chair bolted to the deck at the open stern. There were padded benches along either side with rod holders so six people could fish at a time. She took hold of the rod Blair handed her with both hands and felt the drag of the lure through the water.

‘If your arms get tired, just lock the end of the rod into that slot there.'

‘What do I do if I get a bite?'

‘Yell for Lloyd, I guess. Want me to take your picture? Show them back home how you've gone native?'

‘I think they'd get more of a kick out of seeing you with a fishing rod,' she retorted. Blair was known for having even less sporting prowess than handyman talents.

As Blair disappeared into the small enclosed area in front of the cockpit, which held a tiny galley, toilet and one bunk, Lloyd glanced back at Jennifer. He was glad to see she seemed more comfortable on the boat than she had on the smaller craft on Friday night returning from Gideon's. What a stink that had caused. He hoped it hadn't put Jennifer off hanging out at the Shark Bar. He wished she wasn't the assistant manager's wife, then he'd feel easier about encouraging her to spend time with Mac and the gang at the research station. Jennifer was a university person and he assumed she'd have more in common with them than the resort people.

His musing was broken by a loud squeal from the stern. The rod's tip was now bent low to the water, the line screaming through the reel. Lloyd knocked the engine back to idle and leapt towards Jennifer. ‘Flip the reel, stop the line running out. Okay, now start winding in.'

She tried to hand him the rod that now felt so heavy. ‘Here, you do it.'

‘No, rule is whoever is holding the rod when there's a strike has to play it.'

‘I can't! It's too hard,' wailed Jennifer, not liking the situation at all.

He explained to her how to lower and lift the rod, gaining some line in the slack. Jennifer bit her
lip as she strained against the powerful fish. Blair began taking pictures and Lloyd stepped back to the wheel, easing the boat around.

‘What is it?' asked Blair, amazed Jennifer hadn't just dropped the rod or pushed it at Lloyd. He was relieved the fish hadn't taken the lure while he was holding the rod. ‘She's never going to bring it in.'

‘Patience, perseverance, pain. It's a private battle between them.'

Jennifer was sweating, her arms ached, but she felt a small thrill each time she gained a few more centimetres of line.

‘Take the wheel, Blair.' Lloyd stood next to Jennifer and used an old towel to wipe her forehead and her straining arms. ‘Don't let your hands get slippery. Lift as it runs. It's trying to dive, when it gets close it'll try to get under the boat.'

‘Why don't we just let it go?' panted Jennifer.

‘We will once you've hauled it aboard. It's a battle so there has to be a winner and a loser.'

He stood beside her as she leaned with the straining rod, her back, arms and legs burning as she lifted and lowered the rod to wind in more line.

Lloyd brought the long gaffer pole with the metal hook to the edge of the boat. ‘It's getting close.'

Then with a sharp ping the rod snapped free, flinging Jennifer backwards.

Lloyd grabbed the rod. ‘Gone. Damn. Bad luck.'

‘What did you do?' called Blair.

‘Nothing. It just happened,' said Jennifer. ‘It was like someone got scissors and cut it. Bang.' She stared into the water, wondering what her adversary looked like.

‘Let's have a cold drink.' Blair went below as Lloyd took the wheel and revved up the engine.

‘I'm sorry, Lloyd. I hope you haven't lost too much line.'

‘Are you disappointed?' he asked.

‘Kind of . . . it is a challenge. And I wanted to win it. But I'm glad it escaped. I hope it's not hurt.'

‘Probably got a sore lip. Fishing tackle in the sea can be a nuisance. Not as much as plastic bait bags though.'

‘I thought they'd be making biodegradable ones by now.'

‘They're around but they're expensive. Plastic bags are killers to turtles. They think they're edible jellyfish and then they choke on them.' He paused as Jennifer gazed into the water. ‘Any time we don't have a full charter you can come out fishing as a staffie,' he added.

‘I'll think about it. Thanks, Lloyd.'

They were outside the shadowy outline of reef surrounding Sooty Isle. A tiny crescent of white sand fringed by low green vegetation several metres above sea level with no visible buildings made Sooty look a very tiny and isolated place to Jennifer.

‘How do these coral cays form?' she wondered aloud.

‘Basically, billions of coral polyps accumulating
from the supporting reef build up a foundation,' said Lloyd. ‘Cyclones and storms break down the coral to make the sand that starts to build up around the reef. I get asked this all the time. Take a breath, what do you smell?'

‘Ammonia? I noticed it when we first arrived.'

‘Yep. The birds leave their calling cards, which adds fertiliser to the landscape, seeds are blown, carried by birds, or float ashore and germinate, soil develops and, eventually, vegetation.'

‘So there's no fresh water, just rainfall?' asked Jennifer.

‘In the beginning rainwater soaks down and, being lighter than seawater, sits on top in what we call a freshwater lens. It's salty at first as the island grows, then it becomes less brackish and can eventually feed plants, trees and so forth. But now there're underground tanks and water is carried over in a bad season. We're lucky on Branch, there's some fresh water. Years of rain got trapped and so there's a bit of a stream for much of the year.'

‘Umm, interesting. You know quite a lot.'

‘Ah, I've been hanging round Mac and his mates,' smiled Lloyd. ‘And Carmel is my girlfriend.'

They could see the white silhouettes of several large boats moored in the lagoon. ‘Whose boats are those?' asked Jennifer.

‘A couple of yachties gone ashore for the day, sheltering for the night. The floating gin palace could be the big bosses'. I heard they might be
coming to the island,' said Lloyd shading his eyes as he looked at the distant boats.

‘That's who it is,' said Blair. ‘The corporate heavies who get to go on junkets around all Reef Resorts.'

‘Yeah, the senior staff are always looking to transfer to one of them,' said Lloyd. ‘They have some seriously upmarket places in Asia. They just opened a new one in Koh Samui. Rumour has it they want to develop Branch to the same degree.'

‘What's wrong with it as it is?' asked Jennifer.

‘It's ten years out of date. It could be far more exclusive. Needs new management strategies and ideas,' said Blair. ‘We got time for one more beer before we get there?' he asked, diving into the galley.

‘Sure,' said Lloyd, but his expression was tense.

‘You don't agree with upgrading Branch Resort?' said Jennifer.

‘Nothing to do with me. It's between the resort owners, National Parks and the research station.'

‘Doesn't Rosie, as manager, have some say?' asked Jennifer.

Lloyd looked uncomfortable. ‘I'm just a hired gun. The resort pays me and I help the research station guys and Gideon voluntarily. Rosie has definite views about which way they should go but as manager she has to do what the corporation wants.' He glanced across the water then picked up the binoculars beside the wheel and changed the direction of the boat, gradually slowing. ‘Look over there, see, in the water. She's heading for Branch.'

On the starboard side Jennifer could see a dark round shape. As they drew close she saw it was a large greenback turtle, head and shell breaking the surface, her gaze set resolutely on the distant shadow of Branch Island.

‘Oh, wow! Blair, look!'

‘She's early in the season. Going back to where she was born to lay her eggs,' said Lloyd.

‘They travel long distances, don't they?' said Blair. ‘Amazing navigation to find their way back halfway round the world to some dot in the Coral Sea.'

They were alongside the female turtle, a few metres away, when her steadily swimming flippers suddenly jerked and she plunged in a desperate dive.

Before Jennifer could ask what had startled the turtle, it seemed a torpedo hit in an explosion of surging foam. A great dark shadow only a metre or two shorter than their boat broke the surface, shaking in a frenzy of white water.

‘Shark!' screamed Blair. ‘Christ, check it out! Must be seven metres! Move it, Lloyd!' It struck Blair that if the enormous shark took it into its tiny brain to ram them, the boat would capsize for sure.

‘Oh no,' screamed Jennifer. ‘Look, it's got the poor turtle!'

The shark rolled and flung its head, revealing the curved slash of teeth gripping the struggling turtle. With a sickening crunch the shark gripped the shell between powerful jaws before flicking its
tail and shooting from sight in a second, leaving a slick on the still-bubbling surface and a bleeding severed flipper from the turtle. After the thrashing and shouts the silence was frightening.

‘Jesus, how big was that! Haven't you got a gun on board to shoot the bastards?' asked Blair.

Lloyd spun the wheel, gunning the motor. ‘Tiger sharks get pretty big out here. We're in their territory. That's probably what took Jennifer's fish,' he said shortly.

Jennifer was shaking. The huge killing machine that had sprung from nowhere to strike and disappear in seconds had frightened and unnerved her. It was as she feared – the sea harboured killers. Awful slashing beasts like the tiger shark or silent unseen forces that swept away and swallowed a father and a brother.

Once they were through the channel and inside the reef they cruised across the placid lagoon where the luxury yachts and motor cruiser loomed, almost dwarfing the islet.

‘I hope we don't have to swim ashore,' joked Blair.

‘Nothing too big can get inside the reef, this is pretty safe in here. We can load up the dinghy. I'll take you guys ashore first and bring your gear to the tent. You know your way around, eh Blair?'

Blair nodded, rolling up his camera in a towel and picking up a small backpack. ‘Jenny, grab the small stuff you need and we can go and explore and come back to get our lunch. There's a great spot to swim around the end of the beach there.'

‘Exploring sounds better than swimming,' said Jennifer. ‘I'm looking forward to the Robinson Crusoe experience.' She figured once they were settled under a tree on a deserted section of beach with their picnic, she'd tell Blair about the baby.

When she stepped from the dinghy and looked around, Jennifer could see a structure with a thatched roof and open sides, supported by thick wooden poles. As they walked through the trees she saw this was a communal dining area with long wooden tables, polished wooden floor, a serving area and a kitchen at the rear. As well as the tables, chairs and benches there were long seats, stylish cane chairs and wicker lounges all covered in colourful tropical-print silk cushions. It was airy though she saw there were light mesh and split bamboo blinds that could be lowered around the sides as well as tall candle holders and flame torches placed outside.

A pretty girl came to greet them wearing the same turquoise and white print cotton of the Branch Resort staff shirts except hers was a simple sarong with a white cotton singlet on top. She was braless, slim and tanned.