Ocean's Gift Read online

  I want to go back to bed.

  I saw stars as something hit me in the face. The stench hit me next.

  “Get out the way or you’ll get a rotten cray in the face,” Skipper shouted.

  I looked down at the rotting remains of a lobster on the deck. Bits of it were still on the shoulder of my shirt.

  “Don’t just stand there. Bait the pot up and drop it back over the side.” Skipper sounded even more annoyed.

  Still covered in rotten lobster, I grabbed some fish heads and stuffed them into the craypot.

  I couldn’t bait a pot to save my life. I put too much in, I put them in the wrong place, I didn’t put enough in, or I forgot to bait the pots up at all before I dropped them over the side. Then I had to winch them up and try again.

  Another of the lobster bitches clipped my finger with her tail. It wasn’t broken, but it still bled, so I was sent back into the cabin for the first aid kit. Every pot after that, my hand stung like hell from the salt water. The only good thing about it was that it kept me awake.

  I got hit by another flying dead lobster, this time in the stomach. It was so far gone that it splattered. The stench was unbelievable. Maybe Skipper’ll smell me coming in the dark, so he won’t throw another one at me.

  I wanted breakfast, I wanted to go back to bed and most of all, I wanted a shower. Fuck fishing. I want to go home.

  I barely noticed the sun coming up, until I realised I could see Skipper’s face clearly in the daylight. He was steering the boat back to Rat Island, not saying a word to me.

  I helped him tie up at the jetty and climbed off the boat dejectedly.

  “Hey, Joe,” Skipper called after me.

  I turned, not really interested in how bad a deckie he thought I was, but it was too ingrained in me not to be rude if I could avoid it.

  “Not bad for a first day,” Skipper said. “We got a fair catch. You’re faster than the last bloke I had. Go grab some breakfast and I’ll see you again, same time tomorrow.”

  I have to do this again? Fuck. Dean is not going to know a night of peace, he’ll be sleeping with spiders for the next MONTH.

  I nodded vaguely in his direction and dragged myself down the jetty back to my veranda.

  “Good morning. How was your first day fishing?” a friendly female voice called.

  Sitting on her veranda, her hair a glowing gold in the watery early morning sunlight, was Vanessa. She sipped from a steaming cup in her hand, her knees bent up and to one side. In her shorts and singlet, she looked like she was posing for a photo shoot on beach house holidays. Fishing might be worth it if I get greeted by a sight like this at the end of every trip.

  Shit, I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud. I struggled to find a way to make it sound like I wasn’t the most useless deckie ever.

  “Did Skipper tell you that you’d be more useful as cray bait than as a deckie?” She looked like she was trying not to laugh.

  I shook my head, annoyed, and found my voice. “No. We had a good catch today. He told me I wasn’t bad and I was better than the last bloke.”

  “From him, that’s high praise, then. But you still had a run in with a few crays.” She laughed. “You’ve got rotten cray guts all over your shirt, I can smell it from here. Ugh, don’t get any closer until you’ve had a shower.”

  I stumbled up the steps to my veranda, eager for a hot shower.

  I shut the door behind me and staggered toward the tiny bathroom. I dropped my daks on the concrete of the bunkroom floor and grabbed a threadbare towel from the hook on the wall.

  I hung the towel over the bathroom door and squeezed inside. I turned the water on in the shower and waited for it to heat up.

  I heard voices outside, close enough to make out every word.

  “So, how bad is your new deckie, Skipper?” Vanessa asked sympathetically.

  The bathroom window must be right next to her veranda, I thought.

  “He’s not as bad as the last bloke. He didn’t drop any of our catch over the side, he didn’t fall in and he didn’t fall asleep. He might end up being a good deckie, if he doesn’t do anything stupid so he ends up in hospital.”

  The shower’s taking forever to warm up, I thought impatiently.

  Vanessa sounded serious. “Did you give him the safety talk, like I told you?”

  Vanessa’s the local safety rep? Shit, I better wear my steel-capped boots tomorrow, so she notices I work safe.

  “Yeah, I did. I can’t afford to lose another deckie this season. I’m behind already.” Skipper sounded grumpy. His tone changed. “So what did you think of him?”

  “Well, if he’s as quick to learn as you say, he might last out the season. He doesn’t seem as stupid as the last one. Maybe…” Vanessa tailed off, without finishing her sentence.

  Skipper cleared his throat. “He still has a fair bit to learn, though. He’s good for target practice when he gets confused.”

  Vanessa laughed. “Did you have to throw the rotten crays at him?”

  I heard Skipper laugh. “The first one was an accident, he got in the way. The second one...well, he was already wearing one and he looked like he might fall asleep. I figured the smell might wake him up a bit.”

  “You know, you’ll need to replace those gas bottles. He’ll need hot water to wash the smell off. A cold shower won’t cut it.” Vanessa had stopped laughing.

  “Yeah, I got some coming over on the carrier boat tomorrow,” Skipper said. “A couple of days of cold showers won’t hurt him.”

  No hot water? Shit! I stepped into the water. Oh, it’s fucking cold, too! Give me a river with crocs in it. At least those rivers were warm.

  13. Belinda

  “Can you remember which ice cream she prefers? I cannot recall and the stuff comes in so many colours!” For the first time, Maria looked flustered.

  I tried to assist. “Try blue. Is there a blue?”

  “There is blue packaging, but no blue product.” Her voice crept louder, but there were no humans nearby to hear her.

  I scanned the cold cabinet with the glass doors, before pointing to my recommendation. “This one is pink and features a picture of berries. She likes berries. This will suffice.”

  Maria lost interest in the ice cream and turned to the cold shelves on her other side. “I would like to try this coffee milk. It appears to be cold and contains coffee. I will not burn my tongue with this.”

  I looked at the list Vanessa had given us, as we wheeled the metal trolley between the aisles of products. “She will want meat, like the humans eat. They do not just eat fish, so she must do the same.”

  Maria examined the products on either side of us, until one caught her eye. “She also likes these fungus items. Look, there is a flat bread meal with pieces of fungus on top. Which will she prefer?”

  The products she indicated were round, flat and yellow, sprinkled with other materials. They all looked much alike.

  “We are here to purchase food for several weeks. I recommend we purchase some of each. If we need food for several weeks, fresh is not sufficient. We must purchase more of what will preserve for longer. Items which are frozen or encased in metal will remain fresh for longer. Those fruits are frozen. We should purchase more of those.” I directed Maria’s attention to the fruit and she looked at them thoughtfully.

  “She has expressed a preference for berries. What are these orange items? Mango cheeks? I thought mango was a fruit. Aren’t cheeks a body part?”

  I patted my face, then reconsidered and touched my behind, too.

  “They might be pieces from the rump of the fruit? She will not approve and I will not touch them.”

  I almost agreed with her, but a sudden thought made me return to the box of strangely named fruit. “She may approve. She expressed her preference for that male human’s rump. Perhaps her taste runs to these? I will purchase some and explain my reasoning if she complains.” I suppressed my laughter at the thought.

  I ne
ed not have worried, for Maria’s attention was caught by another package of food. “Moon-shaped pastries? These look interesting. I will purchase these also.”

  In another aisle, I looked for the last item on the list, something with which to restrain hair. I found round, stretchy fabric rings and shiny, flat fabric strips on a cardboard roll. The rings came in blue, but the strips were only available in pink and yellow. Thinking of the ice cream, I chose the pink. I placed several packets of the blue rings and the pink strips into the trolley, hoping these would suffice.

  We paid for our purchases, once we had completed our selection. Maria packed the items into white foam boxes for storage and transport in the back of our vehicle. I returned the wheeled trolley. In the window of another shop, some human swimwear caught my eye. A picture displayed near them showed a human woman wearing this swimwear, lying down on a beach in the bright sunlight.

  I reflected that I would like to recline on a beach one day. If this was appropriate attire, then I had to obtain some.

  I ventured into the shop. The swimwear was pale blue, the colour of Vanessa’s clothing, but if these were required, I would make sure I conformed to even the colour. Vanessa would understand.

  But if she did not…

  I purchased two sets of swim clothing, one in her size and one in mine, before I returned to the vehicle, where Maria waited impatiently.

  I opened the vehicle door before I remembered an important omission. “Oh! I forgot to purchase that fire drink!”

  Maria’s impatience increased as I returned to the shop to purchase more of the drink called whiskey.

  14. Joe

  The next day was better. I set an alarm, so I’d managed to put a shirt on and drink half a coffee before Skipper started banging down my door. I pulled on my steel-capped boots before I left. That’ll keep the bitches off my toes, I thought.

  I learned that wearing steel-capped boots on a boat was tantamount to suicide, because it was like having your feet encased in concrete if you ended up in the water. Skipper offered to throw me over the side if I didn’t believe him, promising me I’d sink like a rock. I worked in bare feet that day; I was back wearing rubber thongs on my feet the next day.

  If you get the tub under the pot just right, the lobsters don’t fall on the deck and try to snap off your toes. If you grab them right round the middle, they can’t reach to snap at your fingers, either.

  I learned to stay down when he was throwing the dead and undersized ones over the side. You don’t get hit if you’re lower than the sides of the boat. If you leave your steel-capped boots on deck while the dead lobsters are flying, Skipper uses them for target practice. I think he got some inside my boots, but most of it splattered on the outside. I left my boots on the veranda to air out, hoping the smell would be gone by the time I needed them again.

  A cold shower is a bit more bearable if you wait till evening, when the water tank has been sitting in the sun all day. Then the water isn’t so freezing – it could be almost skin temperature.

  One day, I managed not to get any rotten lobster on my shirt. I wasn’t bleeding and Skipper had actually told me, “Good job. See you tomorrow.” We were back earlier, too, so Vanessa was just stepping out onto her veranda with her steaming mug as I hit the path.

  “Good morning,” I greeted her.

  She shaded her eyes against the rising sun behind me and peered out.

  “Oh, good morning, Joe. How was your catch this morning? I didn’t smell you coming. Didn’t you catch any of Skipper’s dead crays today?” She was laughing as she sat down, blowing the steam from her cup toward me.

  “The lobster catch wasn’t too bad. All the dead ones went over the side, back in the water.” I actually sounded proud about it.

  “So are you sick of fishing yet, ready to tell Skipper where he can stick his crays?” she teased.

  “No,” I told her honestly. “It’s not that bad, if you take away the early starts and the bloody lobsters with their tails. Besides, I think Skipper knows where to put his lobsters after he’s caught them. He’s been fishing here for years. If I tried to tell him what to do with his catch, I think I’d be on the next plane back to Geraldton. Or maybe a leaky dinghy, with no motor and a paddle if I’m lucky.” I smiled. I’d also learned that Skipper’s sense of humour wasn’t always funny.

  She looked surprised. “Hmm, Skipper could be right. You might make a good deckie.”

  It was my turn to be surprised. “Why stick around if I’m only going to be a bad one? There’s no point in that.”

  I headed back into my house. It was time for breakfast.

  15. Belinda

  Our hotel was near the water, but we chose to eat human food instead of taking a swim to catch our own. The port seemed too busy, with too many lights, to creep naked into the water unseen.

  We chose a restaurant at random. We both ordered chilli mussels with beer to drink. Our tastes differed in many things, as much as our appearances, but Maria and I both had a taste for chilli. This became problematic at the islands, as our stock rapidly became depleted, but this trip we had purchased large quantities of condiments containing chilli. I hoped we would not run out.

  “Are you new here, or just passing through?” The man behind the bar who took our order sounded curious. It was apparent that we were strangers to Geraldton.

  “We’ve been fishing out at the Houtman Abrolhos Islands, off the coast. We were sent back to Geraldton for supplies,” I responded.

  “A few days’ fishing? Which charter boat are you on? Have you caught anything good?” The man sounded eager.

  “More than a few days. We’re crew from the rock lobster vessel, Siren. The lobster catch is not too bad this season,” I replied cautiously.

  “The Siren? I haven’t heard of that boat,” the man said, his expression puzzled.

  A bell rang in the distance. “I’ll go get your meals,” he said quickly.

  The chilli mussels were brought out and we ate quickly, leaving before he could ask further questions.

  As Vanessa had said, we were not to be too friendly, or draw undue attention.

  16. Joe

  Later that day, the carrier boat arrived, with gas bottles for hot water, a few passengers and fresh food. It took the lobsters in their crates back to the mainland for sale.

  Two of the passengers, I learned, were Vanessa’s deckhands and they’d been shopping on the mainland. She sounded as excited as a five-year-old over some of their purchases.

  “Ice cream!” I heard the squeal from the veranda. I stuck my head outside to take a look.

  Vanessa was holding a tub of ice cream, hugging it to her chest. She looked down to read the label. “Why is it pink?”

  “It’s strawberry ice cream. It’s supposed to be pink.” The dark-haired girl sounded matter-of-fact.

  Vanessa pursed her lips. “Well, I guess I’ll eat it. But next time don’t get the pink one. I prefer chocolate.” She gave a resigned sigh and carried her ice cream into the kitchen.

  I laughed quietly. One of the girls standing on Vanessa’s veranda turned and saw me. The other girl turned, too.

  I hurried back into my house and shut the door.

  I watched them through the window, as they both carried boxes of food onto the boat tied up at the end of the jetty next to Skipper’s. They didn’t return, staying on board the boat.

  Wow, a female skipper with girl deckies, I thought. Who’d be happy to throw a punch at me, I realised as I remembered Skipper’s warning. I tried not to think about them as I put away my fresh supplies

  17. Belinda

  It was difficult to wait until dark to slip into the water again. Our time between was filled with storing our food purchases appropriately and taking Vanessa’s much larger quantity of food to the house. We asked her if she would like fresh fish tonight, so that we could catch extra for her, but she declined the offer. She intended to start consuming some of the fresh human food.

  The water felt coo
l and inviting.

  Maria hesitated on the vessel, concerned. “Should I replace the fuel supply on Vanessa’s house generator before we go? It was near empty.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “Is it difficult to do?”

  “No,” Maria began thoughtfully. “I suppose she can change the fuel lines herself if it is required before our return.” With that, she slipped between the waves with a small splash.

  There were samsonfish and kingfish in the anchorage, grown to enormous size on food scraps from the camps. We had been cautioned not to catch these, the humans’ pets, and so we swam further afield. To the north east, we found tuna with yellow fins and dhufish. Algae were varied and plentiful, too. Sick of the human habit of scaling and cooking the fish, we ate the fish as our people always had, seasoned with nothing but salt water. Watching Maria with her fish, I was reminded of a human child crunching through a chocolate bar.

  When we had eaten our fill, we sang up the dolphins. They had missed us, they said, and wished to play in the channel, where they had found a large school of tuna fish that morning. Perhaps some would remain as a snack after a play.

  We raced the dolphins to the channel, through reefs and around rocks and islands. It felt good to swim at full speed, to feel the power of muscle and tail flukes as we streamed through the water in what felt like a cloud of bubbles. I wondered if this was what it felt like to fly through air, but caught myself in time before my dreams flew too high. Even humans could only fly with the aid of an aircraft, which was a metal tube with wings. My sensation of speed was as little like flying in a metal tube as travelling on the carrier boat this afternoon had been like swimming: no comparison.

  18. Joe

  A bloke in shorts and a uniform shirt was loading boxes from the carrier boat into a quad bike trailer.

  “I don’t know when we’ll get a sparky over here to install this stuff,” the bloke said to the skipper of the carrier boat. “And our internet and phones are down till we do.”