A horrific picture formed immediately in Travis’s mind. Women out for a topless swim suddenly screaming and racing for shore, everyone convinced it must be a shark – until the big, sunburnt back of a snorkelling Nish rises from the waters, grin wider than his face mask.
“We’re going farther than that,” said Travis. “Grab your suit and let’s get going.”
Nish didn’t move. He seemed undecided.
Finally, he headed over to his pile of clothes on the floor, kicked several times at the heap, reached in deep, and came up with his beloved Mighty Ducks of Anaheim swimsuit. It was a piece of clothing, Travis noticed, that Nish far preferred to throw off than pull on.
They took off from the marina at Mosman Bay, almost directly across the big harbour from the Opera House. Mr. Roberts had a beautiful boat. It was pure white, with sleeping quarters below for eight, a small galley for cooking, and even a tiny washroom. The boat was outfitted for deep-sea fishing and cruising, with an elevated bridge for the controls and a high antenna for radio communication and navigation. It was called Puck, a name that Travis figured would have been lost on every person who had ever seen the boat – right up until the moment the Screech Owls came aboard.
Wiz and his parents were great hosts. They had hamburgers and hot dogs cooking on the barbecue on deck, and a cooler full of ice-cold Cokes ready to go the moment they left the marina. The kids ate and drank as the Robertses took turns showing off the various sights. They passed by the Taronga Zoo – Nish claimed he could see giraffes staring out above the trees – and saw where the prime minister and the governor-general lived. Then, with the towering Sydney Harbour Bridge growing smaller in their wake, they headed out through the mouth of the harbour into the open sea, where they turned right – starboard, Travis reminded himself – to travel due south along the high rocks of the oceanside bluffs.
The ocean was rolling. The big boat rode the swells nicely and moved at a good pace. Travis checked Nish, who seemed in fine spirits. He was standing at the bow, the wind blowing his black hair straight back, and he was smiling as he watched the shoreline.
Finally he pointed. “Bondi Beach?” he called up to Mr. Roberts, who was standing on the bridge with Wiz, the two of them consulting a chart.
Mr. Roberts – a big man with large hands and a crooked nose he said proved he’d once played in the NHL – looked up, stared hard towards shore, and then nodded back at Nish.
“You got binoculars?” Nish shouted.
Wiz hurried down from the bridge with the binoculars, holding them out for Nish.
“How powerful are they?” Nish asked. He seemed almost frantic.
“Real good, mate,” said Wiz. “What d’ya want ’em for?”
“Topless sunbathers!” Sam shouted from the other side of the boat.
“You have a mental case on your boat, you know!” added Sarah.
“You’re sure he’s not an Aussie?” Wiz laughed. “He sure acts like an Aussie bloke!”
Nish almost yanked the binoculars away from Wiz. He put them to his eyes, adjusted the focus, and leaned out in a desperate effort to get closer to the fabled beach.
Wiz held on to Nish’s shoulder to make sure he didn’t end up as shark bait.
Nish scanned the shoreline back and forth.
“See anything?” Sam called.
“They’re not strong enough!” Nish whined.
“Sorry about that, mate,” laughed Wiz. “You’ll just have to make do with some topless seahorses, I guess.”
“And they’re the men!” Sarah and Jenny shrieked together.
“Very funny,” Nish grumbled.
“Very, very funny.”
8
They cruised for nearly two hours, the sun warming their backs and dancing off the crests of the gentle swells. It was a beautiful day, the sky sprinkled with curious gulls riding the wind currents high above the boat and the air so warm the kids were soon stripped down to just their swimsuits and a thick layer of sunscreen.
Mr. and Mrs. Roberts were the kind of parents a kid only dreams of: rock music blared from speakers set up on either side of the bridge, the cooler was never out of cold pop, and they had enough chocolate bars and licorice to satisfy even the world’s number-one sweet tooth, which belonged, of course, to Nish.
Nish was holding up well. He had his Oakley sunglasses sitting perfectly on the peak of his brand-new Billabong baseball cap. He had his Mighty Ducks swimsuit on, and he lay, stomach down, on a huge beach towel, his legs waving in the air while he pounded out the beat on the deck with one fist and held a giant half-eaten Oh Henry! chocolate bar in the other.
Nothing green about Nish’s gills, Travis thought. At least not yet.
Nish, however, was not the centre of attention. That honour went to Wiz, who was entertaining the girls with a little air concert, hopping around the deck on one foot while he picked out a wild imaginary guitar solo. Sam and Sarah and Jenny were all up and dancing to the music. Fahd had a couple of wooden salad spoons out and was playing along on the drums. Mrs. Roberts must have noticed the salad spoons, but she was saying nothing. Wiz and his new friends were welcome to enjoy themselves any way they wished.
“Up ahead!” Mr. Roberts shouted from the bridge.
Travis got up from the towel where he was lying beside Nish and put his hand above his eyes, trying to shield them from the sun. It was almost impossible to see, the way the sun was skipping off the waves, but eventually the boat swung to the port side and Travis was able to make out what lay ahead.
It was an island out of a movie. It lay like a pearl-encircled emerald in the sparkling blue ocean. The sand looked almost white. On each side rocks rose from the sand up to a plateau, where trees seemed to wave at them in the light wind coming out of the east.
Mr. Roberts let up on the throttle and eased farther to port, as though he planned to circle the island. Travis couldn’t understand why. If ever he had seen a natural landing site, it was dead ahead, on the sand.
“There’s the reef!” Mrs. Roberts yelled out. She was leaning over the bow, straining to see, golden curls – exactly the same as Wiz’s – bouncing in the wind.
Mr. Roberts nodded and swung the wheel hard, bringing the boat around in a full circle.
“Drop anchor!” he shouted.
Wiz immediately set to work. He called Fahd and Travis over to help him throw the anchor over the side, then pushed a button that released the anchor cable. The anchor struck the bottom, and he pushed the button again, setting it securely.
The boat slowed and stopped, rocking in the gentle waves.
“We’re going to dive here!” Mr. Roberts called down to the kids. “After, we’ll take the inflatable in to the beach for a little picnic. Okay?”
“O-kay!” the Owls shouted together.
Wiz was already hauling out the gear. There were masks, fins, snorkels, gloves, even a couple of large underwater flashlights.
“You’ve all snorkelled before?” Mr. Roberts asked.
“Sure.”
“Yeah.”
“Travis and Nish and I have our scuba diving certificates,” Sarah said.
“You do?” Mrs. Roberts said, surprised.
“But we’ve only ever done it in a pool,” added Travis.
“Well,” Mr. Roberts said, pleased. “Wiz and I dive, too. And I think we’ve got enough equipment to go around – maybe the five of us will get out if we’ve time.”
First, though, they snorkelled. The three girls went with Mr. Roberts, the three boys with Wiz, all of them advised not to touch a thing unless either Mr. Roberts or Wiz said it was all right. Mrs. Roberts would stay in the boat so she could help out in an emergency.
“I’ve a good book,” she told them. “I’m perfectly happy right here.”
Travis put his equipment on, sat on the ledge just above the water at the stern, and let himself fall in backwards, the same way he’d been taught to enter the water while scuba diving.
But he’d never fe
lt water like this before. It seemed, somehow, brighter and lighter than any water he had swum in before. He’d snorkelled all over his grandparents’ little lake at the cottage, but that water was dark even if you looked at it in a glass, and it was impossible to see down more than ten or twelve feet. This was more like a pool – but better. He could taste the saltwater on his lips. He could feel it stinging where he’d scraped his shin on the coffee table in the hotel room. But it also felt so clean, almost as if he were being scrubbed by the ocean as he moved through it with his head down, his arms dangling by his side, and his legs lightly kicking.
It seemed he could see forever. The light slipped and shook down through the water and bounced off the bottom. He could see plants moving, and fish – more fish than he had ever imagined possible – moving in and out of coral banks that were themselves so vibrant he could barely believe the colours.
There were pink and orange sponges, all of them moving so slowly in the water it seemed they were swaying to music. There were brilliant fire-red beds of soft coral, and dark, brainlike stands of hard coral. Wiz used a thumbs-up or thumbs-down signal to let them know what could be lightly touched and what should be avoided. It seemed to Travis that half the creatures they were seeing had stingers. He wondered how Wiz ever kept them all straight. He hoped he could.
With Wiz leading the way, they moved into shallower waters and began diving down to pick up shells and crabs and examine them. At one point Wiz grabbed a green turtle by the back legs and swam with it, aiming towards Nish, who turned suddenly, screamed a huge wall of bubbles, and headed fast for the surface. A moment later, he was back down again, as enchanted by the colours and light and sea creatures as the rest of them.
The two groups swam together for a while. Wiz dove down deep and came back up with a large orange sea star, which he handed to Sarah. She took it as if it were a flower and gently carried it back to the bottom and set it down.
A shadow moved off to the right!
Travis turned, startled. A huge ray was swimming beside him, the fin closest to Travis lifting like a huge, lazy wing as it turned away.
Mr. Roberts expertly grabbed onto the ray as it passed, a hand on each of the huge fish’s “shoulders,” and rode it along for a while.
He signalled Nish to come and join him.
Nish scrambled deeper, his motions rough and awkward compared to the extraordinary elegance of the big fish.
Mr. Roberts held the ray tight while Nish placed his hands where Mr. Roberts’ had been. Once Nish had a grip, Mr. Roberts let go.
The big fish moved off, hauling Nish, kicking madly, with it. It saw Sarah and Sam, drifting just in front while they watched and laughed at Nish, and it turned abruptly, almost throwing him off.
But Nish held tight. The ray came straight at Travis, saw him, and banked again. Travis stared into his friend’s face. He saw fear and total joy at the same time.
Nish opened his mouth wide, bubbles scattering.
Travis heard a muffled roar, Nish shouting.
“KAAAAAA-(gulp)-WWWAAAAAA-(gulp)-BUNGAAAA!”
9
“You really want to see seahorses, do you?”
Mr. Roberts asked after they’d all come back to the boat for a rest.
“More than anything else,” said Sarah.
“There’s some thick seagrass growing just off the far side of the island. I’ve seen them in there. I’ve also seen the odd seadragon there.”
“Seadragon?” said Sarah, her brow furrowing.
“You like seahorses,” said Mr. Roberts, “you’ll love seadragons. They’re very rare, and found only in these waters. Only place in the world, as a matter of fact. They’re like seahorses – both are what they call pipefish – only a million times more exotic. There’s two types – the Weedy Seadragon and the Leafy Seadragon, which is even weirder-looking. Think of something that’s half seahorse and half Christmas tree and you’ll be close. Once you see one, you’ll never forget it.”
“And they’re here!” Sarah said.
“I’ve seen some. Can’t guarantee it, but if you and the other kids want to try fitting on that scuba equipment in the hold, I’ll take you down for a look.”
“YESSSS!” Sarah shouted, then immediately blushed with embarrassment.
Travis wasn’t certain it was such a good idea. Sure, they knew how to scuba dive, but their only experience had been in the town pool, where the greatest danger lay in slipping on the soap in the shower. Here, there were moray eels and poisonous jellyfish and stingrays and killer puffers and, of course, the most dangerous shark in the oceans, the Great White.
But Mr. Roberts and Wiz said they knew the reef and the island and the seaweed beds beyond as well as they knew their own backyard.
“Better!” said Wiz. “The only time I’m ever in the backyard is when I’m mowing the lawn!”
Mrs. Roberts and the others set off in the inflatable boat across the coral reef to the beach. Mr. Roberts, Wiz, Sarah, Nish, and Travis pulled up the anchor and took a wide, safe sweep around the island before anchoring again.
The light was different here. Instead of bouncing and rippling off the bottom, it seemed to die in a dark green ebbing and flowing mass that was the seagrass.
They suited up, checked their air, and dropped again into the water. They went down deep and stayed deep. The only sound Travis could hear was coming from his own bubbles.
Travis found the training coming back to him. The tank at first felt cumbersome on his back, but soon he grew used to it and he could slip along the bottom almost like the ray Nish had been riding. A small shift of his shoulders and he could turn; a single flick of one flipper and he could shift directions. In and out of the seaweed clumps he twisted and turned, feeling more a part of the ocean than he had imagined possible.
There were small fish everywhere, bright silvery ones that moved in huge schools, rainbow-coloured ones that slipped in and out of coral caves. Sarah and Wiz came across a school – a herd? – of seahorses and waved the others over, and they watched the funny little creatures almost bouncing along the currents as they moved through the seagrass.
To his far left Travis saw Mr. Roberts signalling. He had his finger up to his mouthpiece. He wanted them to move carefully.
Down into the waving grass they followed him, until he came to a stop before a large clump growing above a huge chunk of white coral.
He parted several strands and pointed.
Inside, moving along a floating blade of grass, was the strangest creature Travis had ever seen.
It looked a bit like a seahorse that had been through a wringer. Its head was miniature, its “ears” seemed like something from a space movie. It looked as if it were dressed all over in little leaves, the greenish gold fronds fluttering like hummingbird wings as the slender creature moved.
Mr. Roberts held out a finger and the seadragon cozied up to it, wrapping its odd leafy tail about his finger. He moved the exquisite little creature over directly in front of Sarah’s mask.
Travis could see Sarah’s eyes. They were wide and as alive as the creature itself. She was in love!
Wiz pointed off in the distance. There were more seadragons moving through the grasses. He pointed again. More still!
They split up. Wiz, Nish, and Travis followed a small group of seadragons as they moved, half swimming, half drifting, along a steep slope down into deeper waters, where more weed rippled in the distance. It seemed there were seadragons everywhere. They floated around the boys like falling snowflakes.
Wiz pointed to a huge green turtle that had been roused by the human invaders and was quickly moving away along the sandy bottom.
The boys gave chase, just able to keep pace with their flippers. He was huge, big enough for them all to hitch a ride on, and they began chasing harder.
The turtle turned sharply, vanishing under a mass of weed and through a narrow gap in the rocks.
Wiz made the turn perfectly.
Nish missed, and took the
long way around.
Travis followed Wiz, reaching out to grab the rocks and propel himself through the opening.
Wiz had caught the turtle by one large fin. He was indicating that Travis should take the other.
Travis moved swiftly. He seized the large flipper and was instantly surprised by the strength of the animal. But he held fast.
The turtle kept swimming, oblivious to his two hitchhikers. They were moving quickly. Travis turned, and Wiz gave a thumbs-up with his free hand. Travis didn’t have the confidence to loosen his grip, so he smiled a burst of bubbles. Wiz laughed, his face vanishing in his own bubbles.
It was like flying. Over banks of coral and down tight to the sand they sped. Through long funnels of grass and in between the rocks.
Finally Wiz let go, and Travis did the same. The turtle, without so much as a look back, vanished into the deeper, darker waters.
The two boys turned towards each other, laughing and high-fiving until they realized they were alone.
No Nish.
10
Travis’s first instinct was to panic. He and Wiz had been so caught up in their ride they had ignored the first rule of diving: stick together. Travis was in unknown territory, but at least he was with Wiz.
Nish, on the other hand, was completely out of his element.
Wiz must have seen the fear in Travis’s eyes. He took Travis’s shoulders in his hands and squeezed tight. He indicated that Travis should follow him, and set off in the direction they had come, kicking hard.
They swam for what seemed a long time. Travis knew they had begun with at least twenty minutes of air time, probably more, but he had no idea how much they had used up. Maybe Nish was already out of air! He realized he was panicking, and that panic simply used up valuable air, so he forced himself to slow his breathing and concentrate on following Wiz.
Travis thought he recognized some of the rock structures and began to calm down. Nish was probably already back at the boat. He was probably already into his second cold Coke, laughing at Travis for wasting so much good pop and chocolate time by swimming around after a stupid turtle.
The Complete Screech Owls, Volume 4 Page 20