OFF THE GRID
Chapter 1
The Threat of Redemption
The promise of relief has been swelling and hovering
for more than a week, and now an early morning Darwin September light glitters
red streaks across a black sky.
A wall of rain claws its way from the distant Arafura
Sea toward the city. A relentless giant storm painting the green waters grey
with skyscraper nimbus shadows that reach from the ocean surface into the ocean
of cloud above.
Two are men waiting, rolling gently, patient on the
humid stillness of a moored boat.
The jade-coloured sarong of Kopu-Nui Hokitika rises
and falls as his huge body softly sings.
At the other end of the padded wooden bench an athletic
younger man listens. “What does that one mean Punga?” he asks.
Kopu pauses and rests his guitar across his chest
“battle ahead – before a war there must be
consultation – before a storm” then he laughs and says “means many things
–words really saying that the gods are thoughtless in their fierceness and
their intent –an ending will rip through shadows with spears of rain and
painful air to breathe– but who can know what really is ahead and what are the
sacrifices for freedom“
The younger man shrugs and looks upward, his trained
eye following the grain of the Douglas Fir mast. “I don’t always know what the
hell you are talking about”
Kopu laughs loudly and freely and follows the young
carpenter’s gaze up the polished tree trunk to the rigging high up the mast. There
is no breeze to rattle the metal cleats, and yet the entire sky is full of
cloud and angry morning darkness from the distant Northern horizon of the
Arafura Sea all the way above Darwin City in the East and South over the
treetop rainforests and red soil jungles. The world is clattering tumult deep
inside itself in a monstrous heaving blanket.
They both look out to sea as the tropical sky rips out
thunder on thunder, spilling waves of lighting downward through the heat into
the water below.
Kopu continues “just got to get hold of the feeling”
he looks back at the other man “it's also about a journey in a boat you know -
like that without knowing where to, but it is old times you know…. two great
kings and the people must decide who to follow in their journey – an old story”
He pauses then strumming again he talks and sings in
small snatches of words amongst the chords
“we all follow
in the
pathways of the water…
great knowledge of the ancient ones…
hara mai te akaaka nui
hara mai te akaaka roa
hara mai te akaaka matua
hara mai te akaaka na
Io matua taketake te waiora…
and great heart strengthen your arms and axes
and your love of your ancestors makes your enemy weak…
and cuts apart the water for the land…” he sings on
quietly as though half asleep.
The two men are on the deck of a large wooden sailing
vessel, watching through the haze of breathless humidity, knowing at last it is
coming.
A crackling exhaust pierces the wallpaper
of cicada song, and both men stir. The crackle eases to idling gasps and
rumbles as the machine comes to rest on the concrete apron of the wharf.
The sound of footsteps and then the square
bearded face of Toby Armstrong appears.
The men on the boat look toward him. Kopu
puts the guitar aside and gathers his sarong around him as he rolls onto one elbow
and nods. The effort of moving makes the tattoos twitch over his massive neck
and shoulders like a flag rippling its pattern over the shell of a giant
turtle.
The other man on deck, Mick Tasakrios flicks
his long knotty Rasta hair, and throws his legs over the wooden edge behind him
and tumbles up onto the deck in a roll. He sits up grinning and half waves,
then casually brushes a fly from his knee.
Toby puts a foot onto the
edge of the vessel “The famous navigator and the famous carpenter then” he says.
Silence. Then he produces a rolled newspaper from his vest and holds it above
his head. “Well, it’s just another croc story boys” and he hurls the paper in a
high arc. It lands at Mick’s feet. Mick carefully removes the rubber band which
he puts in his pocket. He unrolls the newspaper and reads, then flashes the
front page to Kopu with its photo and trumpeting headline 'CROC STORY A CROCK'.
Then he crosses his legs and spreads the paper and reads out loud
"September 28 The amazing story of a savage crocodile attack along the
North Arnhem Coastline played out in Darwin court this week when..."
Thud!
Toby throws a package
onto the deck from one hand and it lands inches from Mick's knee. Mick stops
reading and looks up. Toby's face looks suspended, hesitating as it always
does, if there is something to say but too many ways of saying, “Package for
skip” he announces at last “from person or persons unknown… interesting” and
his intense face informs Mick that he does not want to hear any more of the
newspaper article.
Mick looks back down and
reads on in silence.
Toby reaches inside his
vest again and pulls out a thick parcel. Thud! The parcel is thrown onto the
deck from the other hand and lands next to Kopu. “Provisions from treasury for
the next chapter…. You can open that one”
Then Toby leaps aboard the vessel which rocks slightly
to accommodate him. He stands legs together like a tree which has grown out of
the deck. His legs are as brown as gnarled wood and the oil-stained shorts seem
to sit like an afterthought at his thick waist.
Stained ragged shorts then a hairy belly-gap, and then
a big loose leather vest out of which grow thick arms in an awkward clutter of
too many torn muscles. He stands for a long pause looking at both of the men.
“just another croc story” he repeats.
“Just another crock of shit if you ask me” says Mick
still reading.
Toby gestures to the newspaper “she sold us out, sold
the skip out”
Kopu laughs out loud “she sold us out” he repeats
laughing again with his peculiar high pitched almost hysterical laugh for such
a big man “she sold us out – oh love where is thy sting”
Mick looks up “isn’t that death – death where is thy
sting?”
“Exactly exactly that” Kopu says and laughs and shakes
his head as if nobody really will understand anything about love or death. “End
of story, and beginning of story” he says.
Toby waits for a break in the rise and fall of the
cicada shrieking to speak again “You blokes going to get a wet arse for sure –
you staying on?”
Kopu and Mick both nod - They look toward the
approaching storm.
“Got to keep her alive” states Kopu. Toby nods.
“Skip wants you at Buffalo Creek 0530” says Toby
“she’s all fuelled and gassed and there’s spare fuel for the reach next to the
chiller”
Kopu and Mick nod again “thank you the famous
mechanic” says Mick, and Toby scowls at him, not enjoying his own little joke
being sent back at him.
“Any news of the apprentice boy” asks Kopu
Toby looks up and down the length of the boat, running
his eye over the winches and the trimmings “Sent him his first set of spanners”
he replies at last.
“Mum will be pleased” says Kopu. Then there is a long
pause as the three men turn toward the thunder. “Where to?”
“Skip didn’t say – anywhere I guess – there’s more you
know – court was bad enough but that’s nothing compared to what else - I told
him piss off skip - to Zanzibar for a
couple of years or go fishing off Lebanon coast or something – I told him to
get the hell out – maybe he will listen to me for once”
“What do you mean there’s more – more than this crap?”
said Mick shaking the newspaper in the air.
Toby seemed to stop his inner emotional motor as he
often did at a time of great crisis, and his face became like stone. He stood
there looking from Kopu to Mick and back again. “I’m not coming boys” he paused
and took a deep breath and the stone cheeks seemed to relax a little and life
flowed back into him as his thoughts crystallised “business to run – you know –
kids to run – skip will tell you all about it” that was all he would say,
though it was a lot coming from Toby. “love to know what’s in that parcel” He
turned abruptly and leapt off the vessel onto the walkway. The vessel rocked more
violently this time. “Good luck boys – how’s Mary?”
“She’s fine, safe back with mum in Omokoroa” said Kopu
and with a wave to Toby he rolls his body onto the deck mattress and looks away.
Toby stands on the walkway, seemingly smaller than he
had looked on the deck. “love to grandpa” he says to Mick as he turns to walk
away “worst of it should blow over by morning.... you can motor all the way if
you want – tell that old Greek he owes me” and his voice begins to trail away
“about time he took her back to Mykonos...”
then he is gone with the click of the walkway gate, and a few minutes
later the bike revs fiercely and swirls away.
And so the two men hold onto their promises
as they listen.
They are thrown together in their waiting, each filled with
thought and memory and untangling the lies and truth of their wretched
predicament, each in their own private sweaty breathing.
They listen as the
angry exhaust fades and rises and fades again into the distance and are
enveloped once again by the silence of heavy tropical air, a silence
accompanied by cicadas so constant and loud they are impossible to hear.
Underneath their noise, and through the relentless thunder, the men can feel
the nervous melody of thick lapping water whispering the answer, offering up to
the carved arc of the wooden hull the knowledge of what happened at Yalingimbi
inlet.
The whistle of a kettle rises innocent in
the face of the nearing ocean stormfall.
Kopu rises from the deck and carefully
picks up the package and the parcel. He tosses the parcel in the air and
catches it. He throws it to Mick who holds it to his ear and shakes it as if to
hear a rattle. “no change” he quips.
They both laugh, Kopu laughing his open
free laugh of worldly irony, and Mick more nervous and questioning.
Mick tosses the parcel back to Kopu who then
edges past him and eases his giant body down into the companionway, and like a
great black shark squeezing into a small cave, takes the package and the parcel
below.
Kopu reappears with two mugs of hot tea and
the men sip on their drinks both deep in thought.
Kopu taps his fingernail against the metal
rim of his cup “we have the key” he says in his deep sing- song voice “now
let’s see if it fits the lock” and again he laughs out loud, laughing into the
face of outrageous fortune and daring what is to come, to come. As always Mick
eases his thoughts into the strength and comfort of the big man’s well of
determination, and laughs too, more quietly, finding strength there to allow
destiny to chart the outcome of what they now have to do.
The red air fades into the morning blues
and greys around the two men who are etched like sacrificial soldiers in the
pale tropical light of the marina. The sun lifts itself off the horizon to be
swallowed by the day, and all that remain of the crew of the Saint Augustine, those
unwilling survivors and witnesses, are imprisoned and uneasy above the
creatures of the water beneath them.
Shortly they will go below and batten down
in preparation for tomorrow morning’s rendezvous.
Off The Grid
Chapter 2
To The Lighthouse
One
line placed on the canvas committed her to innumerable risks, to frequent and
irrevocable decisions. All that in idea seemed simple became in practice
immediately complex; as the waves shape themselves symmetrically from the cliff
top, but to the swimmer among them are divided by steep gulfs, and foaming
crests. Still the risk must be run; the mark made.
– Virginia Woolfe
The Saint Augustine is a silhouette between
the jaws of an inlet as night creeps toward her. The huge shape of the vessel
fills a splash of distant ocean beyond the narrow channel. Her Larch planks moan quietly at anchor in the
inlet under the last colours of a setting late August sun. In front of her a
dense fringe of mangroves seem to close up and draw nearer around her as their branches
and leaves disappear from green into reddish blue, and gradually dissolve into
a darkening wall of black shadow shapes.
On deck, sitting on the edge of the deck, a
figure pulls an arm free from a makeshift sling and rubs the shape of an
injured shoulder, then, with deep rubbing, feels satisfaction in the density and
definition of toned sinews and muscle.
The evening is growing and a half moon, tracked
close by Venus, gashes a celestial image into the face of the sky creating a silent pathway for the carpet
of milky way lights emerging behind. Hints
of redness are still spilled across the warm horizon, but the only meaning for this
nervous person is sufficient light to make out the lighthouse shed. “two
hundred metres – not too far - swim it
in fifteen or twenty -no problem no problem mother – do the necessary – do the
necessary”.
Only the tin roof of the lighthouse gleams out
against the wall of mangroves. The inlet has now become a black cave.
The figure climbs down the rope ladder
which hangs over the planks of the swollen hull. Dangling a foot into the water
it is pleasantly warm and soft. “not too deep” and then startles as a bird
cries wheeling overhead.
Pausing, remembering a dream from last
night where flocks of petrels, thousands of petrels which were being hatched
but were out of control, attacked swarming all over, but fluffy and warm but
choking. “did I die” the casual thought is murmured. Hard to remember although
the feeling of the warm feathers around the skin is mirrored by the skin of the
water
The figure slides into the darkening water
and beneath the surface it is cool against the legs.
The moonlight is beginning to make the tin
shed of the lighthouse glow white – the tall bamboo poles of the shack are in
darkness and hard to make out, but the roof is shining clear like a beacon and
the water is a pulsing silver sheet.
“be with me god and keep me safe” out loud,
floating beside the comforting power of the wooden boat edge, and the child
inside prays again and again. Pushing away and beginning to stroke the body
through the clear stillness, pushing through the warm surface and the gentle
coolness of the water.
The shape of the boat has now receded
behind, and the black box shape of the wooden shack looms ahead. Tiring a
little, feeling the ache growing in the sore shoulder. The tide is mild but it
is coming in and helping, rubbing the shoulder while floating, rubbing gently.
Then a gentle bump against the left calf.
The urge to shout leaps into a silent throat, a freeze rushing through veins
rushing it to the heart. The moon watches passively as the shout of surprise is
a silent alarm.
Taking a deep breath the figure now floats
unmoving on the surface of the inlet water, like a log, feeling the soft swaying
of the incoming tide beneath. Now edging closer to the mangroves in stillness
and suspension. The reality of the bump against the leg fades into disbelief
but then the reality of it cannot be denied. A look across to the glowing roof
of the shed then back to the empty safety of the boat. The big hulk of floating
black wood seems closer. “do the necessary god – look after me – look out for
me” quietly, and then propelling onward toward the shack. Not splashing or
breaking the water, only gently breast-stroking.
Bang!
This time the bump is harder.
The
victim tries to swim hard but now going side-ways and only one leg will work.
Suddenly dragged beneath the water there is struggling and kicks with a free
leg. The leg kicks against something huge – some monster – more kicks and
twists with urgency and desperate anger. Then the figure bobs to the surface like a
bloody cork.
The surface of the water is calm, lit
softly as the moonlight picks out the detailed patterns of the tide like
thousands of intricate scales moving and breathing in a glittering gown.
Now swimming furiously and splashing arms
wildly but one leg is not working. The shack is looking closer, nearer “please
god let me...”
Bang! hit again at the hip this time, and beating wildly
silently screaming above the water and under again against the great jaws that
have closed. Punching punches, punches,
punching wildly at the huge head, searching for eyes to strike. Then released
again to see the moon, but the sound of bone cracking is like a horrible signal
of approaching doom. “Not me not me not yet god please” and a thrashing hand at
last closes on the rung of the ladder of the shack and the figure begins to
drag itself upward.
Then struck again and slipping under the
water, only the silence of the inlet is restored, broken by occasional swirling
as the great beast rises to shake and roll its prey.
Off The Grid Chapter 3
Setting the Nets
watching life
return to me
in my net
more than i have given - George Hoerner
Matthew John Cabot, skipper and co-owner of
the Saint Augustine, runs his finger
around the rim of his mug of black coffee. His finger, like his whole body, is
tall and thick set. His frame easily fills the sailing club chair which is
nestled deep into the grass under the coconut palms lining where the shore
meets the grass. He is seated at a table which has been dragged from the dining
area onto the grass.
His eyes wander across to the other side of
the table to contemplate the old man’s hands in front of him. He notices that
one wrist is decorated with two gold bracelets and a fine gold watch. “The old
man still has style” he thinks.
The arms of Theo Tasarakis lift and wave
the watch to emphasise every word “ So that pure diet without killing is what I
have decided to do and three weeks now – all I am eating is fruit and nuts, no
meat, nothing that has been killed, only fruits and nuts, and look at me what
do you think? “
Matthew seems slightly amused “You have
always been a scrawny bird Theo - I’ll look at you in six weeks when we get
back if I have to – what about coffee, and cheese”
“nothing is killed for them” says Theo
feigning offence “only what is offered by god my friend – when do you go?”
“August 15 we go after lunch” Matthew
mutters without looking up. He picks up a pen and is checking back through
lists and notes.
“two days – ok – customers here yet?” asks
Theo.
Matthew does not answer.
“ I only get certified organic anyhow so none of
those pesticide things see – you know no pesticides that are killing all the
bees – only what is offered by god for taking” and Theo’s arms fall back onto
the table and he looks intently at Matthew “you could make that way for the
clients you know –special feature – dietary feature - charge lots – you know my
friend go for the top of the market you know”
“no change unless we need it” Matthew says
still flicking back and forth in his notes “don’t rock the boat”.
Theo looks down and lifts his hands from
the table and folds his arms. He searches around the crowded tables in front of
the sailing club, with the sea-breeze fluttering his shaggy grey eyebrows. He squints
against the morning sun which reflects bright off the thick lawn. He sees the
figure of his grandson climbing out of a taxi and making his way towards them
through the buzzing throng. Mick is tall and walks easily within his skin,
dodging through a crowd of children and leaping up the podium stairs. He stops
at the bar for drinks, and at a cooking stall orders some food.
Theo says loudly as if addressing a number
of people at surrounding tables “Six weeks then my friend, six weeks in that
Indian tub of yours – I told you to buy that one made on Samos – they are the
best builders – they have the history my friend – why would you buy a boat from
Indians when you have the greatest culture of building boats right there on
Samos my friend? When you have a Samos boat you fear no evil. You know....”
then he looks around. Matthew looks up and follows his gaze and catches sight
of Mick at the stall. “you mark my words....” then he drops his voice and leans
forward “so how is your little project then?” and before Matthew can answer
“and Mick don’t know nothing?..”
“No” says Matthew, looking into Theo’s
ancient wrinkled face. Then he notices the long hairs on the old man’s
shoulders and how they are grey and stick out around the neck of the singlet
and he feels the sense of gentleness which Theo always seems to carry even when
he is cranky about something “no, not Mick - I have built the last set of
co-efficients and we are running all the stuff through again - through them
now. Still probably a month off getting anything worthwhile”
“Well I don’t know nothing about it either
cavayari – just in case someone asks” says Theo and Matthew looks up deep into
the old man’s eyes. Theo grins and his eyes spark slightly then he looks away.
Matthew returns to his notes.
Mick arrives at the table. He sits and
drops a newspaper onto the table in front of Matthew. “Hey dads, hey Matthew”
he says “Seen it skipper? So big it can’t even dock here” he pushes the
newspaper image of a vessel across the white table. “beautiful cutter though”
“’hey dad’ you sound like a Skippy” says
Theo frowning and waving an arm “where is that girl? Drug addict she is” he
directs his words to Matthew who is reading the newspaper article “he won’t get
into that I tell you – you start taking drugs I cut your hands off – then what
use is the best carpenter without hands I ask you”
“she is a comedian Pappou – her own woman –
she is working for goodness sake – I never would try and tell her what to do”
Mick responds as he starts to eat his souvlaki
“anyhow it isn’t fair to sit in judgement on her like that – she is good
hearted”
“good hearted enough to spend all your
money too” and he turns to Matthew again “good hearted but a prisoner of
addiction she is – wasting her beautiful life”
“Pappou please“ Mike frowns, then in the
silence to Matthew “so what do you think skip?”
Matthew holds his coffee steady and peers
across the top of the white rim of the mug at the newspaper photograph “what’s
she do?”
“20 knots” says Mike absently as he
gestures for a coffee in sign language to the barista “90 meters, got two
tenders with 90 horsepower twins”
“Nice” says Matthew as he looks across the
crowd toward a group of people who are moving toward him laughing and talking. “Keeping
the waters safe not a problem for us”.
The giant body of Kopu turns his way and
their eyes meet. Kopu bows ever so slightly and Matthew smiles back and hints
at a nod of the head. Then he turns back to look at Mick again. Mick continues “heavily
armed and makes distance but nowhere to park. Not a problem for us“
Matthew puts the empty cup on the table and
looks around the market crowd is if checking for someone then back to Mick “how
are we looking? Got everything?”
Matthew is recently turned sixty and his
face is ringed by white hair and whiskers which are not well trimmed, though
they look as though they should be. His skin is tanned and weathered.
Mick pulls out a list with receipts and Matthew
puts on his glasses again and begins to carefully check through the dockets. He
takes a pen out and makes notes in his pad.
Coffees for Mick and Theo arrive “Another
one skip?” Mick asks and orders without waiting for an answer. “All finished,
smell of the stain gone now. Shipshape
skip – replaced two of the rails across the beam as well”
Kopu comes up to the table with his wife
Maria, and Mick gets two chairs for them. They sit without saying anything.
Maria takes a notebook from her bag. “All
paid” she says, “three women, one man and one child -The child is with two of
the women – got some behaviour issues on the spectrum you know autism spectrum
– I looked it up – no real issue – and one woman is travelling alone” Maria
pauses and looks to Matthew who has not looked up, still checking in his
notebook. She looks to Kopu who smiles and nods. She continues “the man is travelling
alone also”
“OK thanks”, says Matthew, “how old is the
child?”
“He’s nine nearly ten” says Maria. Silence.
Kopu says “She says he has the mental age
of about seven but smart in some things you know”
Matthew looks up at the sound of Kopu’s
voice. He puts the pad and pen down and accepts a newly arrived coffee, and
leans back in his chair. “OK that’s great Maria thank you and very well done.
What are the specials?”
“Well” says Maria, “solo woman is Dutch marine biologist wants
turtles, trepang, and she says a range of molluscs – specialises in parasites
it seems, two women are twitchers so Peron Islands might be a good go at the
end, and loading up on the Inglis and Wessel Islands, and so...” Matthew
waits... “and our solo man is American vacationer with interests in Indigenous
Culture – tourist”
Matthew nods “OK good”
Maria looks at Kopu then continues “the two
women with the boy – main cabin. Single woman cabin two and the man in with the
crew. He needs laptop space, and I imagine so will Dutch woman though she has
not specifically requested it. She wants to bring a white-board on”
Matthew makes a couple more notes then puts
his pen down and reaches across to touch Maria’s hand. He looks directly into
her deep black eyes and she looks away sideways. “I am sure you have an
itinerary outlined?”
She looks directly back into Matthew’s eyes
for a moment then looks to Kopu and she nods. She looks back at Matthew’s hard
blue eyes and says “Kupang nine to thirteen September”
Matthew leans back in his chair again and
rolls a cigarette in silence.
Theo stretches and gets up from the table.
He calls to a distant group of men, and then turns back to Matthew and puts his
hand onto Matthews ironed linen shirtsleeve “the songs of my ancestors still ricochet
through the wind - everyone is crying out for peace my friend, no one is crying
out for justice” Matthew looks up into the brown eyes of his patron and
favourite philosopher “stay safe and look after my boy – iasu” and he turns and
melts into the crowd on his short wealthy bow legs.
Matthew watches Theo depart, briefly, then
turns back to the table and says “Mick, this kid is yours – ok – yours - you
look out for him every waking minute ok? I don’t want him going for a shit
without you watching him, and if you have to belt him I will back you – never
let him out of your sight ok! – you will be his best friend and nothing happens
to him ok?”
“Would you want him belting someone else’s
child?” asked Maria surprised “anyhow all passports, visas, done permits done,
and all paid up”.
“He means a safety line so the kid cannot
fall off” said Mick “too many snappers out there in the water” and he grinned
at his own joke.
Kopu laughed right out loud at the thought,
frightening a waiter who had crept up with a cordless phone. “Call for Mr
Cabot”
“Hang on Toby”, Matthew says into the
phone, and he looks up at Kopu and Maria who have both stood from the table and
he says “fifteenth 0600 embark 1300 – thank you Maria you are the only woman I
ever could have married – let me know if he ever leaves home”
Maria smiles warmly and confidently, then
hesitates as Kopu gathers himself and they walk away together, greeting tables
as they move toward the exit gate.
Then Matthew talks with Toby at length
regarding supplies and re-supply points. Mick gets up and waves cheerio while
Matthew is still talking to Toby.
After Mick has gone Matthew finishes his
plans with Toby and then leans back in his chair and casts his eyes over the
armada of yachts moored before the great sailing club, and where the Saint
Augustine was moored until Theo bought the marina berth.
Off The Grid
Chapter 4
Arms of the Saint
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
“15 August 1115 the log for the 37th
commercial voyage of the Saint Augustine is hereby set down on an incoming
tide, moored and readied”
Matthew types
on the verandah of Theo’s house. He looks up from the carved metal table over
the collection of classical statues which have been randomly set down by
removalists and are scattered across the vast lawn, looking toward the vessel
which is moored at the far end of the garden.
Behind her a blue stretch of
water winds away and is a deep channel between mangroves, and in the distance
the flickering white horses where the channel meets the sea.
Mick and Toby emerge from the house
carrying a large wooden table between them. Matthew smiles politely as they
struggle past wearing their new red t-shirts and black flared trousers.
The big
table has scrolls and boxes, and the men carry it across the lawn and set it
down in the distance next to the Saint Augustine.
The walkway is hidden by the
swell of the lawn, and the vessel and the table look as though they are part of
the eccentric and random lawn sculptures.
“1132” he types, “preparation to receive passengers”.
And then Matthew rises, folds the computer
into it’s case and walks across the lawn, through the statues, without noticing
them, to the walkway, along the walkway past the table, and without a glance
for Toby and Mick, up the gangway onto the deck of the Saint Augustine. He
allows himself a flicker of smile as the giant wooden Cutter tries to yaw
slightly under his feet as the incoming tide rises to it’s task. He feels the
eagerness to be underway and the vessel strains against the ropes and rubs the fenders
impatiently at the mooring pylons.
Mick and Toby go and bring chairs and are
followed on their final trip by old Theo who is dressed in a pale pink suit
with grey shirt and white shoes. Then
behind Theo comes the floating grace of Theo’s wife Kyriaki.
Kiryaki is dressed
in a drawer-full of colourful silks with a white shalwar kameez beneath,
and the breeze ripples against her as she glides along behind the men, the
breeze making the silks float out from her like so many flags of nations, and
her skin radiates the colour of first press Kalamata olives. Her long grey hair is gathered tight across
her forehead in a black mourning band.
They all sit at the table and Matthew
unclips his binoculars from his belt and holds them aloft. He waits until
Kiryaki looks up and when she does he waves them high and calls to her “Thank
you Pizza they are the best” She smiles her white teeth at him and with her
hand motions ‘it is nothing’ and ‘you are most welcome’
The party at the table look toward the
sound of a motor car arriving. Matthew turns and goes down the companionway
with his laptop and plugs it into the docking station. Then he climbs back onto
deck and flips open the mini-station
“1148 passengers arrive preparing to
embark”
He watches as Maria leads the group of
passengers from the vehicle onto and along the walkway and Kopu walks behind. Maria’s face is tattooed with her Ma’ori
heritage, and her flashing smile as she looks toward Matthew is as soft and
naive as a child as much as it is powerful and defending her castle.
Two women walk together behind Maria.
They
are both dressed in expensive camping shop gear and the older of the two women
has a broad straw hat.
The younger of the women has a baseball cap turned back
to front. Between them, walking stiffly and formally is a young boy. Matthew
notices his awkwardness and determination to walk properly and guesses 10 to 12
years old.
The older of the two women reaches to touch his hand and he holds
her hand briefly then returns to his ordered march between them.
Behind the two women and the boy, is
another woman, very tall and elegant in her walk, very European. She has both a
rucksack on her back, and a woven cane bag on her arm. Matthew notices the
shock of curly hair bursting out from her overly large tennis visor cap.
She is
very tall.
At the back of the group is a man with a shaven head and dressed in long
trousers and colourful shirt of the style Matthew likes. The man seems relaxed
in his walk and looks around a lot seeming to ask questions of Kopu who smiles
back at him but says little.
Behind the whole party are two men with trolleys
of luggage.
As
the passengers arrive at the table and chairs Maria introduces Toby and Mick who
in turn introduce Theo and Kyriaki, and then refreshments are offered. The
passengers sit to listen to Kopu deliver the safety on board address.
Matthew
hears the voice of the young boy interrupting Kopu “what size is the motor?
What size is the motor?”
The older woman leans forward and touches
the boy’s shoulder to hush him, and then sternly tells him to be quiet and
listen. The boy stands and shrugs his shoulders away from her and steps closer
to Kopu “I want to know what size the motor is” he says more angrily.
The women
are apologetic and both rise from their chairs but the boy now turns and backs
away then turns to run across the lawn. Toby steps from beside one of the
statues and strongly picks the boy up in his arms.
The boy stiffens himself and
tries to push away and Toby says “I will show you the motor – on board – when
we get on board” The boy remains as stiff as a board in Toby’s arms, his sailor
jacket rumpled up to his armpits and his face reddened, and he looks hard at
Toby and says straight at his face “what size is the motor?”
“It’s a Volvo Penta D2 72
horsepower 2.2 litre diesel – alright!?” says Toby looking straight back at the
boy.
Their faces are close, and the boy suddenly relaxes completely and still
held, puts his hand on Toby’s shoulder and grins back over his shoulder to the
women. “Alright” says the boy. Toby lowers him to the ground and he runs back
to his seat and says “I am sorry Mr Kopu I missed the part about when the sails
swing across the top” After Kopu’s talk has finished,
Maria, Theo, and Kyriaki lead the passengers to the boarding gangway, and they cross
onto the deck while the passengers wait to be called across.
Matthew stands hands behind his back at the top of the rope
rail. He offers a hand to each of the passengers as they are introduced.
In the
background Matthew spots Mick and Toby carrying the table, boxes and chairs
back across the lawn. “Alysha DuMaurice” says Maria as
a tall blond woman steps onto the gangway.
Her rucksack is squarely balanced
against her back and she is wearing a loose pale blue smock over deep blue knee-length
bicycle shorts that have white stars scattered over the front of the legs, and
stripes at the hem above the knee.Matthew feels her strong
handshake – she has long fingers and warm hands.
“Welcome aboard” he says
looking for softness in the bright blue eyes “always a pleasure to welcome a
marine biologist along on one of our voyages”
She has hung onto the rucksack
Matthew notices, but the cane basket is on the luggage trolley “I have your
whiteboard installed”Alysha pauses with the
handshake, and looks at Matthew Cabot. She notices that his eyes are like her
own, and his face has something of the Dutch mouth lines of her own father. She
lingers and allows Matthew to end the handshake, and then steps onto the deck,
wobbling slightly under her rucksack which Theo steps forward to help her with,
and she nestles it amongst some ropes by the mast.
“Tanya Pellegrini” Maria
announces next, and the more senior of the two women who have the young boy
with them, steps onto the gangway.
Matthew looks at her strong, lined face, and
admires her casual smiling demeanour as she pauses and looks at him, before
accepting his handshake and embarkation assistance to land on deck.
Tanya has long
flowing hair which she allows to cascade from under a broad straw hat, and as
she shakes Matthew’s hand she takes the hat off for her hair to unfurl around
her.
The hair is grey and white but alive and shining and she tosses it away to
allow their gaze to meet. She is wearing a kahki shirt and trousers with lots
of pockets everywhere, and a red silk scarf flows from her left breast pocket.
“Mr Cabot” she says in a way that reveals a hint of her Italian heritage “it is
such a pleasure to meet you. I read of your Banded Fruit-Dove story and it was
an inspiration for this visit”
Matthew looks into her green open eyes with the
speckled cornea. He wonders what her eyes might have been as a young woman
flashing those white teeth and speckled eyes like pale green birds eggs.
She
steps across the deck, avoiding a coil of ropes without needing to look, and
moves to stand beside Kyriaki who has quietly boarded the vessel, and who
indicates with a nod the Steiner Commander binoculars on Matthew’s hip. They
grin to each other and then Tanya winds her hair back up into the straw hat and
retires beneath it.
“Master Raphael Pellegrini” announces Maria.
The boy stands
hesitant at the gangway and Maria gestures with a soft downward motion of her
hand and the boy steps onto the gangway. “I never been on a boat” he says and
stops like a horse unwilling to board the float, feet dug into the gangway and
hands gripping the ropes “I want to get on last” he says.
“That will be fine” says Matthew
nodding and motioning for the boy to step back, which he does meekly.
“Gwenda Caldwell” announces
Maria next. A slender woman in her early thirties steps onto the gangway, her
brown legs still decorated with youthful vigour and her hands confidently
gripping the rope rails.
She is wearing loose kahki shorts and a camping shirt
in the same fashion as Tanya Pellegrini, however she seems almost lost amongst
the folds of her garments.
Matthew holds his knotty hand out toward her and for
a moment suddenly feels very old as this woman approaches him. She uses the
ropes and does not take his hand of assistance to step onto the deck. Matthew
gives her his smiling frown, as if looking down over a pair of glasses, and she
smiles back nervously, flickering black eyes away toward Raphael, and then around
the rigging and fittings on deck and back to Matthew.
The vessel has begun to
rock slightly as the tide hits it’s peaks and Gwenda’s hand appears from a
sleeve and grips Matthew’s hand suddenly and briefly. She glances into his eyes
then looks away and nods. “Welcome aboard the Saint Augustine Ms Caldwell” and
looking across to Kiryaki he cannot hide a grin “welcome indeed and I hope we
can add some sightings to your impressive CV”.
Gwenda nods and recedes back
into her shirt as she quietly moves to stand next to Tanya.
“Lester Winters” Maria reads as
a tall slender man with a shaven head and a white scarf knotted around his
throat, steps onto the planks.
Matthew notices the faint shadow around his
temples and decides the head shave is to compensate for early baldness. Lester
is wearing long white trousers and a purple silk shirt that flutters slightly
in the long sleeves which are rolled twice at the wrists. He has a hat hanging
from a pouched knife on a crocodile skin belt.
Matthew watches the veined arms reach
for a double-handed handshake which is confident and bold, and greets Matthew’s
hand without hesitation. “Welcome aboard Mr Winters” Matthew says, watching
Lester’s carved heart-shaped mouth with the lips so red they are purple.
Lester
smiles and looks directly into Matthew “the pleasure is mine I assure you Mr
Cabot, and please sir you can call me Brain – that is what everyone calls me”
Matthew nods still holding the handshake as if uncertain to let go “Brain, well
ok Brain, you can call me skipper, while we are afloat” Lester nods and as his
hand is released he steps back slightly as if he had been too forward.
Matthew
puts his hand on Lester’s shoulder and points toward the others on deck. Lester
smiles and moves.
“Raphael Pellegrini for the second time” announces
Maria as Raphael steps onto the planks with Toby and Mick behind. He walks
confidently up to Matthew and shakes his hand. “Mr Captain sir” he says
formally “this is Mr Toby”. The huge frame of Toby Armstrong grins sheepishly
as he fills the gangway behind the small boy.
“Thank you master Raphael the
second – it is most helpful of you to bring the crew on board as we will be
needing them”
Raphael seems not to really hear
but shuffles awkwardly looking for a place to stand while waiting for Toby.
“Did you hear all of the safety
briefing young man? Mr Kopu’s talk” asks Theo stepping forward and bending down
to be at Raphael’s height.
“Mr Toby is going to show me the
engine” Raphael replies.
“I’m sorry” says Gwenda kneeling
next to Theo and putting a hand out toward Raphael “I will make sure that all
is safe with Raffie wont we Raff eh?”
Raphael backs away slightly and
half sits awkwardly on Alysha’s large rucksack, and he looks away toward the
channel between the mangroves.
“No need to be sorry for
anything Miss Gwenda”, says Matthew helping Toby and Mick lift the luggage onto
the deck from the gangway. “Let’s get all this stuff stowed and everyone
settled below and get away onto the water while we still can, then we can have
a nice supper out at Garruma Rock for sunset”
Theo, Maria and Kiryaki farewell
the party from the walkway as the gangplank is hauled away.
The giant Bristol
Cutter eases gracefully off the mooring as the tide nudges her out into the
channel under a the faint humming power of the diesel, and the wooden shape takes
it’s rightful space first out between the mangrove then further into the reaches
in the deep channel, and at last through the foaming horses at the river mouth which
part under the Saint Augustine prow underway again.
Kopu has the tiller and Matthew
notes on his log terminal “1423 exit Grinter channel bound for Milingimbi –
first port Tiwis”
Off The Grid
Chapter 5
The Visited Trap
Sitting on the prickly woollen bench blanket, Matthew Cabot taps his
cheek, as he does when deep in thought.
The image of Alysha swims through his mind and he turns her over and
over.
So carefully and precisely she worked, dissecting a sea snail amongst the
rocks on Tanukan Island. He keeps playing it in his head.
So calm she was, and the short white hairs of her arms glistening
in the sunlight amongst her ordered
tools and boxes as the afternoon sea wind blew her hair like transparent white
seaweed away behind her.
She had looked up and smiled inquisitively and said
“information Mr Cabot, is like the ocean, and where you chose to dive in will
always be interesting”.
She was being coy and distant even though they had
spent the previous two nights camping together, alone, and while she collected
her specimens he fished for her and fed her and loved her, and the smell of her
body still lingered with him above the salt spray and the massed flocks of
waterbirds surrounding their isolation. He noticed her freckles then, as she
worked under his gaze and he stood naked and un-noticed at last.
Now he sits alone, not seeing the grey lino or the steel bars of the
remand cell. Not hearing the grunts and snorts from the cell next door. He is
set against a storm and it makes the unnecessary invisible, and the mundane
silent so great is his focus on memory and thought and sorting the events.
The watch policeman brings him a coffee and informs him that he has a
visitor. “upstairs in the interview room or down here? – up to you”
“down here” Matthew replies, taking the coffee with a nod. He notices
that it is a white coffee instead of the black he asked for, but says nothing.
The watchman reappears and a short stocky woman steps out nervously from
behind him.
She stands seemingly unsure, then enters the cell as the watchman
opens it and ushers her in.
“Mr Cabot?”
Matthew nods and moves along the bench blanket to make room for her but
she remains standing.
“Mr Cabot I am appointed to assist your case. You may elect to get someone
else if you are not happy with me”
Matthew looks up from his coffee and looks hard at the woman. She has
buck teeth, and slightly dishevelled clothes and hair, but she stands firmly
and smiles.
Matthew nods toward the space he has made on the bench “If you want the
case you will have to sit down. I am not
talking to anyone who has to stand up all the time”
“I am Glenda Rejander- Minninker” she says still standing “and you have
to say if you want me to represent you at the hearing, and sign these papers”
“Then sit down here Ms Minninker and I will sign”
The woman suddenly strides to the bench and sits next to Matthew.
She
sits with a very straight back and her feet only just touch the floor. She
reaches into a folder and produces a paper and pen which Matthew takes, and
without looking at Glenda Minninker, signs and hands back,
She folds the paper and replaces it into the folder which she puts beside
her on the bench. “Fine then we have a deal Mr Cabot”
“Matthew” he says beginning to enjoy her short formal style.
“Alright Mr Matthew – now my job is to prepare your case for the hearing.
This is not a trial, you understand, not a trial. This event is for the
Magistrate to determine if you are to go to trial. Do you understand what you
are charged with?”
“A surprising turn of events is what I am charged with my dear, a
surprising turn out altogether I should say wouldn’t you?”
Glenda turns to face Matthew for the first time. He notices her eyes
large like giant white gashes in a brown sheet, and with large chocolate brown
centres.
She only holds the gaze for a moment then looks nervously away, toward
the wall of filthy graffiti at the back of the cell. “You are being held on serious
charges. I need to know you understand the charges”
“Yes I understand the charges thank you”.
Glenda looks sideways at Matthew again, almost comforted by his sharpness
and his neutrality of emotion.
“Well I look to you Mr Cabot. This is about you and you know the
prosecutor will try and convince the weight of bad character, and motive you
know, it will all hinge on that, lacking the normal sort of you know,...
evidence as it were”
She puts her papers on the floor and awkwardly drags a
lined notepad and pen from a folder.
Matthew stands and walks to the tall iron bars. He leans his big frame
against the metal, taking comfort from the edge of pain against his skin. He
turns, still leaning, and looks at Glenda, her short skirt too short for her
chubby legs which balance the pad. He wonders how she might dance and what sort
of music she would like.
He searches for the faint scent of Alysha in his
moustache, sniffing at his top lip and finding himself annoyed that it is
almost faded but still, still the electric charge of her eternal moment in time
lingers, like the footprint of an ancient god.
He looks at Glenda and finds
something in her shy and courageous body language, it is there in her too, that
same seeking for an understanding of the great hunger driving freedom. Matthew
prides himself on intuitive understandings of a certain class of women who
reach innocently across the space toward him – the ancient souls filled with
bitter sweet understanding, and who are like stranded aliens for whom
compassion and sensitivity are badges.
History has taught him that he will
always fail because the perfect fit is not possible since he is not sure of the
shape of his own standards and needs, and would certainly be unable to know if
a woman really loves him. Undaunted by such a relentless string of failure,
Matthew nevertheless blindly tries to measure and gauge the level of trust to
which he may commit, in his estimations of, this professional woman before him.
Eventually Glenda is able to hold his gaze from the distance across the
cell, sufficient to set Matthew at ease.
“You know miss, you seem to be holding out some hope that my character
might stack up in some way, no? You know stack up for his honour to say this
guy is no bad guy.”
He pushes off the wall and begins to walk slowly around the
cell “I cannot run from myself and be someone else. I personally consider
myself a man of honour you know, I can stand before god and say yes yes – there
are redemptions in me – the balance is there – there are things in me that you
know – I can’t run from myself and hide – nowhere to hide from myself you know
– but I am a good person basically and I believe in equity and justice and
truth – yes I believe in those things, my life is committed to those things”
“So you have a sense of pride in yourself Mr Cabot – could we say that?”
Matthew paused his walking and looks at Glenda as if the question was
either startlingly accurate or perhaps mystifying.
“Sense of pride – yes I am my own person and in debt to nobody – I pay my
way in life and I have fought all my life for what I believe in”
Glenda was making notes and Matthew found that slightly scary though
thrilling.
He watches her pen for a few
moments and then continues to pace the floor, resuming his thoughts “so probably in answer to your
question if we are talking about me and my judgement day then – well – I guess
that I probably don’t stack up you know – couple of broken marriages you know”
he feels the old itch for a cigarette and notices the no smoking signs
signalling the power of social imprisonment “yes in answer to your implied
question I feel that I am a man of good character – the last breath of an old
man and the first breath of a newborn in one breath....”
She looks up at him, not writing now, watching as Matthew Cabot seems to
drift and hover somewhere else
“....and, all happiness is mine if I fear no evil – was that John Donne?”
Glenda looks up at him and taps the end of the pen on the closed pad,
then she opens it and smooths the white page against the deep black of her
skin. She looks down at the page and begins to write, then asks “what sort of
relationships would you say that you had with the guests on your ship Mr Cabot”
“If you are on my side you can call me Matthew or Skipper, if you are not
on my side you can call me Mr Cabot”
Without looking up she says “I am paid to be on your side Mr Cabot, and I
am a very professional person, but please do not try and force me into a
personal position. You may come to trust my ability to act and speak on your
behalf, and I may come to trust you sufficiently to address you by your first
name, but at present we have not established those positions”
As she finished
she looked up and smiled so cleanly and perfectly that Matthew laughed and
looked away.
“OK I’m impressed” he said kindly, and Glenda allowed some silence in
order to confirm the arrangement, as Matthew stood with his back to her,
watching through the bars, watching the grey concrete stairwell rise from the
grey linoleum floor, upward out of the shaggy light of the cells to the
brightly lit courtrooms somewhere above where freedom is a commodity with a
juggernaut of service industries built around it.
“Tell me about how you found the guests Mr Cabot” Glenda’s voice curled
into his mind “how would you say you got along with say, Mr Winters for
example?”
Matthew turned back to face Glenda and slid his back slowly down the soft
steel of the bars, until he was sitting on the cell floor with his knees up.
He
put his head between his knees. “Well first night was at Holy Reef you know, where
we have the meet and greet cook-up – Alysha wanted to help Kopu – she was interested
in bloody everything – Kiwi cooking you know for god’s sake!”
“Miss DuMaurice?” asked Glenda not looking up
“Yes her” said Matthew
