The Song and the Sea

by Isobel Chace

  Her eyes shone.

  “You bet!” she said. “Can I help?”

  Nick loaded another camera with film.

  “What about your friend?” he asked.

  “Jock?” she asked uncertainly. “Can’t he come too?”

  He shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

  “If he likes. But don’t expect me to look after him, I shall be too busy with the cameras. And I want you to look after the recording gear. Follow me closely, and then if we come across anything interesting in the way of sounds, I’ll signal to you to start recording—okay?”

  She nodded, glad that he considered her responsible enough to be given a specific job.

  “You’d better show me how it works," she suggested.

  Willingly he showed her how to start and stop the machine and how to adjust the microphones so that they would pick up the maximum amount of sound, amplifying it many times to make it more audible to the human ear when it was played back. The tape had already been partly used, but there was still ample left for experimenting on that afternoon.

  It was too hot for any of them to eat anything very much in the way of lunch. The lettuce that had been so proudly brought aboard drooped dolefully and everything seemed tepid and tasteless.

  “We are foolish to eat in the middle of the day like this,” Monique said. “Almost I envy you diving this afternoon. At least it can’t be quite so hot in the water.”

  No, Charlotte thought, it would be marvellous to feel the cool water all around her again. It was odd how scared she had been at the thought of diving. Now the mere thought of it was bliss, and she hardly cared what monsters inhabited the waters of the Gulf of Aden.

  His grey eyes smiled at her even though his face was serious. What devastating eyelashes and eyes he had! No man had any right to them! And if they did happen to possess them they certainly shouldn’t use them in just that particular way!

  “I’ve hired a couple of Arab boys while we’re here to help out,” he told her. “They may even take on part of the cooking.”

  “But where will they sleep?” she demanded.

  “On deck. I’m afraid it will put paid to any idea you might have had of doing the same, but they will be very useful. Once we really get started, we’ll be too busy to do everything ourselves as we have been doing.”

  Charlotte was the last person to object to someone who was more accustomed to the heat coping in that stifling galley. She took a deep breath of contentment.

  “How marvellous!” she said. “I feel like a slow-motion film when I’m cooking. I daren’t move any faster—I should melt!”

  The two Arabs when they arrived were an engaging couple. Seamus went ashore for them, and they arrived each with a little bundle containing all his worldly possessions under one arm. Youssef and Fahad had originally come from Kuwait where they had earned their livings as pearl-divers before the finding of oil had made any other trade in that small country a comparatively profitless thing to do. Their fathers had been engaged in the only other trade that Kuwait had boasted; they had helped to build the dhows that plied their trade along the east coast of Africa, travelling backwards and forwards with the monsoons in exactly the same way as they have done since before the memory of man.

  They were greeted ceremoniously on deck by Nick and, apparently noticing no difference between the comforts of the Sea Fever and those of the kind of boats to which they were more accustomed, happily settled their belongings right up in the bows where they would be in no one’s way, and then' squatted down for a good hour’s conversation while Nick sailed the yacht slowly out of Aden harbor.

  The red sails flapped lazily overhead, searching for the elusive breeze that came and went without any apparent reason. Charlotte spent the time preparing for the coming dive. She changed into her black woollen costume with a half-regretful look at the scarlet. It was silly to think that Nick would even notice what she had on, she scolded herself fiercely. But he would notice, that she knew. He was that kind of a man. With a sigh she went back up on deck and put her equipment in a little pile in one of the tenders so that she would be able to slip into it easily when the time came.

  Her father was at the helm now and she went over to talk to him.

  “Hello, Dad,” she greeted him.

  He grinned at her.

  “Why the sombre black?” he asked. “I liked the other much better!”

  She smiled back, though a little uncertainly.

  “I didn’t want to shock Jock,” she retorted automatically. “Besides, this one is a much more practical affair.”

  His eyebrows rose a little.

  “Still running away?” he asked her.

  “No, I’m not!” she denied indignantly. “Why do you always accuse me of that? Was Mother always running away?”

  He thought about that for a minute.

  “I suppose we both did,” he said. “Whose idea was Jock? Your’s or Monique’s?”

  “Monique’s. But she doesn’t want her precious Nick to know!” Immediately Charlotte had said the words she wished them unsaid. It was so unlike her to be spiteful, she thought dismally. Oh, Nick!

  Her father only laughed, however.

  “Nick can say some pretty cutting things when he’s a mind to,” he said easily. “I expect Monique s noticed that he never turns the rough side of his tongue on you. He wasn’t very pleased at having an amateur on board.”

  “I don’t blame him,” Charlotte frowned. “We don’t exactly make things easy for him, do we? I mean he already has to cope with me, and then there’s Monique refusing to dive, and now we’ve landed him with Jock as well!”

  Seamus nodded gravely.

  “There’s something in that,” he admitted. “If you take my advice, you'll keep Jock out of his hair when we’re diving.”

  “How?” Charlotte demanded.

  Her father looked at her sharply.

  “What’s up with you?” he asked. “Is the heat too much for you?”

  She shook her head, suddenly and terribly aware of the impossibility of telling, anyone just how she felt about Nick. And it was getting worse. She found herself listening for him, listening to his footsteps going to his cabin, or, when she was leaning over the rails on deck, finding that her heart was pounding when she thought he might be coming to speak to her. Mere physical attraction, she scoffed to herself, but it was potent stuff.

  “I haven’t heard you practising since you got back from Libya,” her father went on. “Has that got anything to do with it?”

  Charlotte, looked at him in surprise, her hand going to her mouth in dismay.

  “Oh, Dad!” she exclaimed guiltily. “I haven’t even thought about my singing! Mother would be simply furious!”

  Seamus gave her a clumsy pat on the shoulder. “It doesn’t matter, my dear,” he told her. “You’ve lots of time. This is a holiday in a way for you. I just thought perhaps it wasn’t going very well.”

  But she had no right to a holiday, Charlotte reminded herself. In future she would make absolutely sure that nothing came between her and her music. Nothing at all! Not man, nor fish, nor anything else under the sun. She had to remember that she was a dedicated being, for in her voice lay all the hopes and ambitions of the mother she had loved.

  At a signal from Nick the anchors were lowered with a splash into the navy-blue sea, their chains rattling out of their lockers, glinting silver and grey in the sun as they rushed down to meet the water. The sails too subsided in chaos on the deck and the Sea Fever came to a silent dramatic halt. Immediate confusion followed as the sailors stowed the canvas away in the lockers and cleared the decks of the ropes. In a matter of minutes everything was ship-shape and the two tenders were being lowered down to the water together with the gangway.

  Jock stared down at the sea and shivered.

  “Gosh,” he said, “I can’t believe I’m actually going down there.”

  Charlotte gave him a commiserating smile.

  “Stage fright!�
�� she teased him. “I’ve got butterflies too.”

  “Come on, Charlotte,” Nick ordered abruptly. “Take this tape-measure with you, will you?”

  She took it from him and started down the gangway before him. There was nothing to be afraid of. Hadn’t she been longing to get into the water all day? Imagine the luxury of being cool. Her skin prickled at the nape of her neck, and this time it was not heat, it was fear.

  Nick held the boat and she jumped into it easily, holding the gunwales in her hands. The equipment in the bottom made it difficult for her feet, but it didn’t matter. She held on to the edge of the wooden platform at the foot of the gangway while Nick got in beside her, followed by one of the Arabs.

  “This one is Youssef,” Nick told her with a grin. “Best skin-diver in Aden.” He translated his remark into Arabic and a highly-delighted Youssef grinned and nodded.

  They paddled the tender to the end of the anchor chain, where it was just disappearing into the water, and tied up to it. Charlotte buckled on her belt marvelling at the weight of the lead against her, and then Nick helped her into her harness, easing the cylinders of air on to her shoulders. Youssef put on her flippers, but she took her mask from him and spat in it herself, washing it out in the sea, to prevent it from misting up.

  When Nick too was ready, she put it on, taking one deep breath through her nose to form a vacuum to make sure that it didn’t leak. Nick slipped over the side and she followed him, though a great deal more clumsily because she found the fifty-odd pounds on her back almost too heavy to allow her to straighten up. She grasped the anchor chain in one hand and with the other pushed the breathing valve into her mouth against her teeth. It was working well. Nick nodded at her and pointed downwards.

  A second later he was gone, and she knew that she must follow him. She pulled herself down the anchor chain and became fascinated by the links of metal as they repeated themselves again and again the whole way down to the anchor.

  She reached the bottom with a thump and looked round for Nick. He was trying to amuse a flat faced fish by doing a complicated dance beside it. The fish was staring at him, completely motionless, even its breathing seeming to be suspended. Charlotte chuckled inwardly and went to join him. He was beautiful in the water, she thought, his movements as graceful as though they had been planned carefully for some water ballet. When he saw her, he bowed and began to waltz with her until she was breathless, the bubbles from her breathing apparatus pouring out in little clouds. The fish turned tail and fled. One strange monster it was prepared to face—but two—!

  Nobody else had come down. Charlotte made some signs in the water, asking where they were, but Nick only elaborately shrugged his shoulders. By mutual agreement they went up to the surface, coming up quite close to the tender. Youssef passed Nick his camera and he went straight down again, but Charlotte waited a few seconds, revelling in the hot sun when for once she was quite cool and comfortable.

  “Take care,” Youssef grinned at her. “Kelpal-bah!”

  “Kelpal-bah?” she repeated, stumbling over the word.

  He pointed down into the sea.

  “I see,” he said. He pointed dramatically to his eye and back into the sea.

  “But what is it?” she asked.

  He thought hard.

  “The dog of the sea,” he translated literally, very pleased with his English.

  She looked about her, sure that every wave was some dark shape. This is ridiculous, she said to herself. I must go down and warn Nick. She still had no idea what it was that Youssef had seen, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. She grabbed a bigger harpoon than the one she had had with her previously and vanished again beneath the surface.

  But this time nothing would go right for her. She saw Nick exploring a shelf of coral and went towards him, glancing nervously over her shoulder every few seconds. She was beginning to breathe more heavily. Movements that had seemed quite easy only a few minutes before now seemed impossible. She remembered Nick saying that man was his own greatest enemy beneath the water, that once one started to panic everything seemed bigger than life. She wouldn’t panic. She began to breathe more calmly and advanced steadily towards Nick. He had seen her now and was waving to her to come on. He wanted her to measure some of the distances around them, she knew. It was the best way when one was filming under water to thoroughly accustom oneself with the local terrain.

  Then she saw it.

  It came creeping found a coral promontory towards her, a few pilot fish leading the way. It was a shark!

  For a moment she thought her heart had literally stopped beating. She couldn’t move, for her limbs seemed suddenly to be made of lead and she couldn’t breathe properly. Frantically she pumped more air, opening the taps as far as they would go, until her lungs were bursting and she realized that she had been getting oxygen all the time but that she had just forgotten to breathe herself at all. She gulped, and at the same time, for no reason that she could discover, her mask began to leak and everything became distorted by the water as though she had no mask on at all.

  The last thing she saw was Nick swimming towards the shark and the great fish turning tail and making off. But she had had enough. Frantically she kicked her legs, and then at last she was back in the sun and Youssef was hauling her over the side of the boat.

  She lay in the bottom of the boat, gasping for breath and trembling all over. Suppose the shark had not just swum away? Suppose it had gone on coming towards her? Suppose she hadn’t been able to get out of his way?

  She felt the boat tilt and the next second Nick was sitting beside her.

  “Never again!” she spluttered. “Just never again!”

  He smiled down at her, his eyes deep with sympathy.

  “That’s what panic does for you,” he told her. “I wouldn’t have let him come near you.”

  She shivered.

  “You might not have been able to help it,” she said.

  He grinned.

  “I’d have helped it,” he assured her. “I’d not be alive now if I hadn’t learned something of how to deal with sharks.”

  She looked up at him resentfully. How could he treat her fears so lightly?

  “I think you were lucky that it made off,” she informed him. “And if you think that I’m going back to turn myself into—into shark bait just to please you—”

  “Oh, I do,” he told her solemnly. “Ten minutes to calm down and then back we go. I’ll go and tell the others.”

  She sat up at that.

  “Don’t you dare!” She knew that he was laughing at her, but she didn’t care. “It’s my story! You’d make out that the shark was no bigger than a goldfish, or something. I know you!”

  He laughed out loud at that.

  “Would I so? But it was only a little shark, you know.”

  She gave him a resigned look.

  “All right, we’ll go back,” she promised; “But Jock and Dad must come too. They can keep a look-out while we’re busy measuring.”

  He didn’t say anything for a minute. He just looked at her, and she found herself staring back at him as though she had never seen him before. Then she began to blush.

  “I’m not doing it for you!” she denied, as though he had accused her. “I’m doing it for my own satisfaction.”

  His grey eyes were gentle but terribly sure of themselves.

  “Are you?” he asked.

  It was outrageous that he should even use this occasion to flirt with her, she thought, but at least she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how he affected her.

  “Yes, I am.” And her voice was so calm and assured that she very nearly believed it herself.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It never failed to amaze Charlotte that looking upward from depths of about sixty feet or so she could see the hull of the Sea Fever above her quite clearly, and yet from the surface one could see merely a few feet down and then the diver was lost to sight. She watched first Seamus and then Jock sli
p down out of sight, and then it was her turn. She knew that Nick would wait until she had lowered herself over the edge of the boat before he would follow, that he would make quite sure that she really was going. He was sitting on the middle plank, making a last few adjustments to his camera.

  “Have you got your recording gear?” he asked her.

  She nodded.

  “I thought we were going to measure things first,” she reminded him.

  “It’s always as well to have as much equipment with one as one can easily carry.”

  In that respect, Charlotte thought, their capacities obviously differed. He had two cameras, a yard-stick, sharpened at one end for defensive purposes, as well as all his breathing equipment. She felt quite cluttered enough without anything else to carry, though under the water weights became nothing, and that helped a great deal.

  She picked up the recording gear and her harpoon and jumped into the water. Do it quickly, she told herself. The less time she gave herself to think, the better. She could see Jock’s yellow hair beneath her and swam down towards him.

  He disappeared and came up behind her, grabbing at one of her feet. But she didn’t want to play. All her concentration was on keeping herself under water and not allowing her instinct to take the upper hand and panic her back to the surface again.

  There was no sign of the shark. She looked cautiously all around her, but it had quite definitely gone and, with four of them down there, she felt happier. For the rest, Nick kept her so busy that she had enough to do, trying to keep up with his gesticulated instructions, to worry any more.

  She had only one opportunity to use the recording machine, and she was grateful for that. After all, for the most part, the sea is a silent world. Nick, his face alight with excitement, found a fish that could croak like a frog, and they recorded this phenomenon as carefully as they could, separating the fish as far as possible from its fellows and then netting it, in order to take it up as a specimen for Seamus. He came and watched them recording for a while and photographed the fish from every conceivable angle, until Charlotte began to wonder whether even he knew what it was.