Chelonia Green, Champion of Turtles

by Christobel Mattingley

  Quietly, at a respectful distance, they followed the hatchlings down to the water. Watched them slip into their new home – swimming easily, naturally, gracefully, young as they were.

  As the last turtle disappeared into a gentle wavelet everyone let out a sigh of relief – a deep breath of exhilaration – and turned in silence to hug each other. Together they had watched this special miracle.

  Chellie was smiling, but the tears were running down her cheeks. Caretta’s babies. The odds were against them, she knew. But please, please, let one of them survive. Let at least one come back. Thirty years on. Even if I’m not here to see it.

  They walked to where the sleeping bags were already laid out. Still nobody spoke. The moment was too deep for words. They gathered in a circle again around the nest, and although she could barely see, Chellie knew that everyone was smiling. It was a night they would never forget.

  CHAPTER 15

  ‘Best Two Days of My Life’

  WHEN CHELLIE WOKE – JACINTA ON one side and Alice on the other – everyone was stirring, crawling out of sleeping bags, stretching. So it wasn’t a dream, she thought as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

  ‘Swim before breakfast?’ Dad shouted, and everyone raced down the beach, laughing and joking. The kids were having so much fun that it was only the smell of bacon that finally lured them out of the water. After the bacon and eggs were eaten and the billy boiled, they made toast on the coals and spread it thick with Mum’s chunky lime marmalade.

  ‘That’s the best breakfast I’ve ever had,’ Tim declared. And everyone agreed.

  They shook the sand out of their sleeping bags, rolled them up and tidied the campsite.

  ‘Now, what are the orders for the day, Captain Chellie?’ Ted enquired.

  ‘More of the same,’ Chellie announced. ‘We’ve still got the rest of this beach to do.’

  So off they went with bags and crates to make Snowy Beach as clean as its name.

  At lunchtime John and Ted conferred.

  ‘We thought we’d bring the boats round here and to Turtle Beach to load. Anyone want a trip on a smelly fishing boat?’ Ted enquired.

  ‘Yes please!’ Tim’s, Jacinta’s and Will’s hands shot up.

  ‘Could we come with you, John?’ Jack and Alice asked. ‘We’ve never been on a yacht.’

  Chellie was torn. She had never been on a yacht or a fishing boat. Dad had a catamaran and a barge. His workhorses, he called them. ‘Could I come round on one and back on the other?’ she asked.

  ‘Why not?’ said Ted cheerfully. ‘I can take all the camping gear from here too. Save humping it overland.’

  They went back around the rocks, where Tim and Jack prised out some big lengths of rope that Chellie had never been able to budge, and sharp-eyed Will found fishing line in rock pools which had been underwater yesterday. Turtle Beach stretched smooth and hard and empty.

  ‘Perfect for cricket,’ Tim commented.

  ‘Good idea,’ Dad replied. ‘But we don’t have a ball.’

  ‘I found a ball yesterday,’ Will piped up. He pulled it out of his pocket. ‘Look, it still bounces!’

  ‘And I can make a bat.’ Jack seized a small piece of plank and yanked a discarded fishing glove over one end for a grip.

  ‘Game on,’ Tim declared. ‘Your first bowl, Chellie. And you bat first, Jack.’

  It was a hilarious game. Chellie bowled, chased the ball, swung the bat, and laughed and laughed. Playing with just Mum and Dad was never so much fun.

  All too soon it was time to stop and move on. At Home Beach they clambered into the dinghy and duckie and headed for the boats. Chellie climbed aboard Sweet Alice.

  ‘I wish I had a boat named after me,’ she exclaimed.

  ‘It’s a bit of a tradition among fishermen to name your boat after your mother or wife or daughter,’ Ted explained. ‘My mother was Alice, too.’

  Chellie loved seeing the island from the water. It looked so dramatic with its cliffs and coves and rocky headlands. She pointed out some of her favourite places. They chugged past Turtle Beach, Turtle Point, Oystercatcher Cove and the long rocky stretch where the ospreys were circling on updrafts.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be great to be able to fly like that!’ Tim marvelled.

  Chellie wondered if he wanted to be a pilot.

  Dad had come too, to guide the fishing boat safely in to Snowy Beach.

  ‘There’s a patch of rocks that’s sometimes uncovered,’ he warned Ted. They anchored as close as possible to shore to make the loading easier. All the Snowy Beach rubbish had been left in bags and crates.

  ‘We can stow the crates in the well.’ Ted knew all about getting as much as possible aboard Sweet Alice.

  At last the work was finished and they headed back to Turtle Beach to lend a hand.

  Emptying the bins onto tarps and dragging them down the beach, into the dinghy and aboard the lovely yacht was quite a challenge. Chellie felt sad to see all the ugly debris piled on the decks. But John was not worried. He saw it as a photo opportunity. Whipping out a camera he took several shots.

  ‘I’ll publish these on the club website. Should make crews a bit more careful.’ He hopped into the duckie and paddled across to take some snaps aboard Sweet Alice too.

  Ted was pleased. ‘A picture’s worth a thousand words, they say.’ Looking at Chellie he hastened to add, ‘But if it hadn’t been for your words in the first place, there’d be no pictures. We would never have come to the island.’

  The yacht had puttered round using her engine, but John had hoisted the sails for Chellie’s benefit.

  ‘Wind Chime is a perfect name for her,’ Chellie sighed to Jacinta, who with Tim and Will had swapped back to their own boat. ‘She’s so beautiful.’

  She seemed to glide like a gull over the glassy green waters. As they rounded the southern end of the island, the westering sun turned the sea to gold, and the sound of the wind in the rigging and sails changed from a whisper to a song.

  They had a barbecue on Home Beach, watching the sun slide into the sea and the clouds turn into full-blown roses: pink and gold and apricot. Mum brought out the visitors’ book. There weren’t many names in it, but the visitors from Sweet Alice and Wind Chime filled two pages with their enthusiastic comments. Chellie especially liked Jack’s: ‘Best two days of my life.’

  ‘Watch our websites, Chellie. I’m sorry we didn’t get round to all the beaches. But if we may,’ John said to Chellie and her parents, ‘we’d like to come again at Easter to help.’

  ‘So would we,’ Ted said, and all the kids shouted ‘Yay!’

  Chellie grinned.

  ‘I’m hoping we’ll be able to persuade other yachties to adopt an island, one of the uninhabited ones, and clean up the beaches once a year. I think the idea could catch on,’ John added.

  ‘A great idea,’ Mum and Dad agreed.

  ‘I could try the same with my lot,’ Ted offered. ‘Fishermen know the coast as well as anyone. It’ll be a wake-up call for them to see the rubbish.’

  So the Adopt an Island scheme was hatched, and Chellie knew she wouldn’t be alone in her task any more. ‘Could you publish a photo of Caretta too?’ she asked. ‘If people could see what one piece of fishing line did . . .’

  ‘Sure will,’ John and Ted promised. ‘Just email it to us.’

  Chellie hated saying goodbye to all her new friends. She and Dad and Mum stood at the water’s edge watching the dinghy and the duckie head off to Sweet Alice and Wind Chime, and the lights twinkle after the families had gone aboard. They were leaving early next morning for their trips home. Chellie felt empty and full at the same time. Sad and happy.

  Mum guessed how she felt. ‘Not long till Easter,’ she said. ‘It’s early this year.’

  Chellie woke several times in the night and looked out to see two lights in Home Bay, and imagined Tim, Jacinta, Will, Jack and Alice snug in their bunks. But in the morning when she woke, Home Bay was empty again.

  CHAPTER
16

  More Help

  WHEN CHELLIE PULLED OUT HER worksheets and settled at the kitchen table, Mum said, ‘You don’t have to do lessons today. It’s a holiday. Australia Day!’ But Chellie felt so flat after all the excitement of the last two days she decided she might as well do them anyway. There was nothing else special, even if it was a holiday. Only more rubbish.

  She was plugging away when she heard the distant drone of an aircraft. Surely it wasn’t heading for the island? Not two aircraft in a week?

  Out in the garden Mum heard it also. ‘Chellie, come and look!’

  Chellie rushed out. A little seaplane was flying towards Home Beach. She could see the floats quite clearly. A helicopter on Tuesday, a seaplane on Monday!

  Dad came out of the shed and together they watched in amazement as the floatplane splashed down on the water, coming to rest like a big moth.

  Who could it be this time?

  They rushed down to the beach, dragging the canoes to the water’s edge. Dad and Chellie jumped in and began paddling out to the plane. As they approached, the door opened and standing there smiling and waving was Chellie’s teacher, Miss Howe!

  ‘Miss Howe!’ Chellie shouted. ‘What are you doing here?’ She manoeuvred her canoe alongside.

  Miss Howe was holding up a newspaper. ‘I thought you’d want to see this.’

  Chellie whooped and almost overturned in excitement.

  ‘Hold on,’ Miss Howe said. ‘Can I come ashore with you? I’ve brought some friends. We’d like to help your clean-up.’ Chellie nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. Her teacher, in bright pink shorts and top, slid her long brown legs down and landed lightly behind her.

  Now the pilot poked his head out. ‘If you can take my three passengers ashore, I could take you and your parents up for a bit of a flip before we get down to business.’

  Chellie goggled. A helicopter, a fishing boat, a yacht. And now a ride in a floatplane! ‘Let’s start now,’ she agreed eagerly.

  Dad picked up another woman from the plane and they paddled to shore in tandem.

  ‘Come on, Mum,’ Chellie urged. ‘We’re going for a trip in the plane!’ Then she remembered her manners. ‘Miss Howe has brought friends to help with the cleanup. And she’s brought the paper!’

  Mum climbed into Dad’s canoe and they paddled back to the plane. Chellie and Mum clambered aboard and Dad ferried the last passenger, a man, ashore, then came back.

  ‘OK,’ said the pilot. ‘I’m Jim. Strap yourselves in. We’ll do a circuit of the island.’ He revved up the engine, and the little plane skimmed across the bay and lifted.

  Jim flew low, hugging the coastline. Chellie was almost dizzy with delight, looking down on the bays and beaches and bluffs. It was nearly as good as being an osprey. What a pity Tim couldn’t be doing it. All too soon they were back at Home Bay.

  On the kitchen table, where Chellie’s worksheets still lay, Miss Howe had spread out the newspaper. Chellie gasped when she saw the cover of the supplement. The photo Dad had taken of her kneeling beside Caretta sat under the headline, Chelonia Green – Champion of Turtles. She read the story Mark had written about Caretta and the rubbish, and turned the page to find more photos – of the rope boa constrictor, of the bins of bottles and thongs and plastic, and of the turtles. Plus a big plea to everyone not to throw refuse into the sea.

  It couldn’t have been better.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Howe. Thank you so much. This is great!’ Chellie’s face was glowing. ‘Oh, I must write to thank Mark. Surely this will make a difference.’

  To save time and a lot of rock-hopping and scrambling, Dad took everyone round to Curlew Beach in the catamaran. Chellie hoped the curlews wouldn’t be disturbed by such an invasion, but it was too good a chance to miss for a complete clean sweep. They might even be able to do Orchid Beach as well, and still have time for a swim. She was glad Miss Howe had thought to bring a supply of heavy duty garbage bags, because quite a lot of the chicken pellet bags had been sent off holding yesterday’s rubbish.

  ‘It’s a marathon job you’ve undertaken, Chellie,’ Miss Howe said. ‘Congratulations on sticking at it. Most people would have become discouraged and given up.’

  Chellie had to admit she’d felt like that often. ‘But if we save one turtle it’s worth it.’

  ‘You’ll probably save more than that, as people get the message,’ Miss Howe assured her. ‘Of course, you’ll never know. But you’ve done your best, and inspired other people to do their bit also. So that counts for a lot.’

  They swam and snorkelled before lunch, and afterwards Chellie showed the visitors some curlew tracks and two curlews: silent, still, like shadows on the sand, standing in the shade of a casuarina. They cleaned up Orchid Beach too. Chellie was thrilled. She picked a spray of orchids for Miss Howe and gave her a little driftwood dragon for her desk.

  ‘Have you time to see the turtles before you go?’

  ‘We’d love to,’ the helpers all exclaimed.

  ‘We could take the plane to Turtle Beach,’ Jim suggested. Chellie boggled at the thought. They loaded the rubbish into the catamaran and returned to Home Bay.

  ‘Can we squeeze Chellie in?’ Miss Howe asked Jim.

  Chellie had worked out that Jim was Miss Howe’s boyfriend. Surely he couldn’t refuse? She held her breath and tried to look small as he glanced at her.

  ‘Yep,’ he grinned, ‘if we don’t take the rubbish. We can collect that when we drop her back.’ Chellie climbed into the floatplane for the second time. It was too good to be true.

  At Turtle Beach they waded from the plane along to Turtle Point. Chellie loved showing her special family to people who appreciated how remarkable and precious and how very vulnerable they were. The Chelonia Greens are getting quite a fan club, she giggled to herself.

  ‘You’ll have to write another instalment of your story now, Chellie,’ Miss Howe observed as they said goodbye.

  Chellie grinned. ‘I’m going to do just that.’

  CHAPTER 17

  ‘Chelonia , You’re a Champion!’

  OVER THE NEXT WEEK THE days returned to normal. Lessons in the morning, a visit to the turtles, and rubbish collecting on one beach after another. The sea was throwing up just as much as ever and Chellie had to remind herself that it would continue that way for a while. Many boaties had been out cruising and partying over the Australia Day weekend and most of them probably had not got the message yet. Nor had the fishing crews. She just had to keep at it.

  Think of Caretta’s babies, she told herself. ‘Sharks stay away, today and every day, from the baby turtles out in the bay. Noddies and boobies stay away, today and every day, from the baby turtles out in the bay. Hungry fish stay away, today and every day, from the baby turtles out in the bay.’ Remember the good times with Mark and John’s and Ted’s families and Miss Howe and Jim and their friends.

  The bags and bins started to fill again, but more hatchings at night along Home Beach encouraged her to persist. ‘Go, little turtles, go! Stay safe, stay strong, grow, grow, grow. And come back again. Please do,’ she chanted as she made and measured a new rope boa constrictor on each beach.

  Statistics were important, Dad had said. So Chellie carried a notebook now and jotted down the tallies for each day. After all, if she was going to be a scientist and do research she had to have data. How much deadly rope, lines and fishing gear? How many plastic bags? How many plastic bottles? How many thongs and all those miscellaneous items? Dad had suggested the miscellaneous category. It covered a lot of stuff.

  Emails came from Tim, Jacinta and Will, Jack and Alice telling about school. Chellie wondered what it would be like to go to school with other kids. She could hardly wait until everyone came back at Easter. As well as answering them she wrote to Mark and told him all that had happened. She also went on with Caretta’s story for Miss Howe. She wrote to the turtle research people too and told them about Caretta’s 117 babies. In their reply they thanked her very much. They said how
pleased they had been to see the newspaper article and asked her to be one of their regular observers. Chellie was rapt.

  The following week Dad went to the mainland for stores and mail. When he returned he announced, ‘You’ve scored the most, Chellie!’ and dumped two fat packets on the table in front of her.

  ‘For me?’ Chellie exclaimed, seizing them. Her new worksheets were not due from school yet, but one large envelope had the school logo on it. The other envelope, addressed to Chelonia Green, Champion of Turtles, was from Mark’s newspaper. She ripped it open and more envelopes came tumbling out as well as a copy of the supplement with a note from Mark: Thought you’d like to see this. Hope it brings results.

  Two of the envelopes had gold crests. ‘This is from the Premier of Queensland!’ Chellie squeaked in amazement. ‘And there’s one from our Member of Parliament too.’

  ‘Careful how you open them,’ Dad suggested. ‘These letters are for Chelonia Green’s archives.’

  Mum produced a knife and Chellie slit them open.

  ‘The Premier commends me for my actions,’ she squawked, ‘and our Member of Parliament does too.’ She passed the letters to her parents, and picked up others which also had official envelopes. ‘It’s from the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park Authority! Thanking me for my responsible citizenship! And the World Wide Fund for Nature director says I’ll be pleased to know they are already campaigning for clean seas to protect marine life. The Australian Conservation Foundation director says that my action helps focus public attention on the problem.

  ‘And listen to this! James Cook University’s Head of the Marine Sciences Department is pleased I want to be a marine biologist and says to contact them when I’m old enough to start the course. That’s awesome!’

  She pulled the last letter from its envelope. ‘Oh Mum! Dad! It’s a school offering me a scholarship! The Principal says they encourage initiative and enterprise and I seem to be just the sort of student they want to help achieve her ambition.’ Chellie fell silent, staring through the window out to the turquoise sea which lapped Home Beach’s sticky caramel sand and ribbon of shells.