The Reef

by Mark Charan Newton

  She reached up and picked a large mango. ‘Here you go.’

  Manolin looked at it. ‘Splendid, I was wondering where the natives were getting it from.’ Then, smiling, ‘I see you’re enticing me with your sweet fruit.’

  Twenty-Four

  Jella and Lula lay naked on the bed below deck, staring at the wooden ceiling, listening to the sound of the waves striking the boat. They were sweating as they had just fucked. They were now talking about the future. Lula turned her head and her eyes settled on Jella’s breasts. The rumel woman was conscious of this fact, and she raised her chest a little for Lula to place her hand upon her.

  They lay together for some time.

  ‘I’m a little worried,’ Lula said.

  ‘I know you are.’ ‘I love you,’ Lula said.

  After a moment’s silence, Jella said, ‘I know.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Sorry, Lula. I’m worried, too. I try not to think about it.’

  You should,’ Lula said. ‘You should open up more, and not be so closed to me.’

  Jella sighed, glanced down at the top of Lula’s head. She kissed it smelled her fragrant hair. ‘You keep saying this. It’s just the way I am. I’ll try and be different.’

  ‘But we might not have much time left,’ Lula said.

  ‘Of course we will.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  Lula moved her leg so that it was on top of Jella’s. It felt so smooth-that simple difference of skin quality never lost its appeal to the rumel. For someone so rough as her, it was a wonderful escape.

  ‘Because I’ve studied for years and I have a plan. That’s why. I’m confident. We should cheer up because everything will be fine.’ ‘What will we do when it’s all over?’ Lula said.

  Jella reflected on the question for a few seconds. The last years of their lives had been spent studying, planning, preparing for their mission. It was all their lives consisted of. This line of contemplation would always reach a wall, and it was as if she was not able to get past it. ‘Then we’ll form another plan.’

  ‘Why? Why can’t go somewhere north of Rhoam? I want to settle, and look after you.’

  ‘I’m not that old,’ Jella said, laughing.

  ‘I know, but you know what I mean. This is all I’ve known. I want to do something different. And after this trip, you will have got your justice, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘There’s a long way to go yet. Getting to Quidlo is only half the job. We’ve got to trail back to Escha. Then we’ll have to go over land again. In fact, we’re probably a third of the way there. We can talk about the future later, yes?’

  Lula sighed. ‘It just feels like the end. It’s such a long way to go.’ ‘Well, the difficult bit’s coming up. After that it’s easy. Just sailing. Come on, be positive.’ ‘I know,’ Lula said. ‘I’m hungry though. We can’t keep living off fish.’

  ‘Then we’ll stop at an island and get some more fruit.’ Jella turned Lula over on her back, kissed her. She drew her tail up the inside of Lula’s legs, up to the top. The girl was still wet from before.

  ‘You can’t get away with it that easily, you know,’ Lula said. Jella kissed her soft neck.

  Jella sat up on top of Lula. ‘I can try.’ She slipped her tail inside. Lula grunted, closed her eyes, drew her knees up, all the time groaning slowly. As Jella leaned forwards to kissed Lula’s chest, the girl opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling. Although the rumel could see this, the fact that her human lover might not be fully interested in sex, she continued, would try harder until she gave satisfaction.

  Jella stepped up on the deck. Menz, Yayle and Gabryl were all standing on one side of the boat, taking turns at staring through a telescope into the direction from which they had come. She walked over. Above her, the sail was tight with the wind. On one side of the deck were the carcasses of whales. She did not know what species they were, but the stench was horrendous.

  ‘Hey, guys. How’re we doing?’ she said.

  Menz and Gabryl turned. Yayle continued to look out to sea. Menz’s tail, which was motionless. Gabryl ran his hand through his beard. ‘What’s wrong?’ she said. ‘It appears,’ Gabryl said, ‘that there are one or two ships following us.’

  ‘One or two?’ Jella said. ‘What?’

  ‘Well, a few, actually,’ Gabryl said.

  ‘Let me-’ She stepped past them and took the telescope from Yayle, who stumbled back, cursing. She raised the telescope, thrust it at the horizon. She could see only the sea and the sky. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘To the right.’ Gabryl tilted the end of the telescope for her. She could see, in a tight formation and hazy because of the distance, seven shapes, small and neat, facing them. ‘Those’re the one’s we can see,’ Menz said. ‘Ain’t gonna be surprised if there’s more.’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ Jella said. She glanced at Gabryl. Her eyes were wide, but she made sure she spoke with confidence. ‘They’re miles and miles away. If we start the engines then we’ll get there no problem. Make sure we get there, Gabryl.’

  This was no longer as simple as she had hoped. She walked down along the deck then below, almost as if she didn’t want to face the fact that her crew was being followed. The risk had just doubled.

  Twenty-Five

  Manolin woke with a gasp, breathing heavily. He wiped sweat from his forehead. He sat up. The sky was pink, so the sun had not yet risen. Again you could hear the monotony of the tide, soothing, reassuring. It was just what he needed after a dream like that. He took several more deep breaths before lying down again.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Santiago said.

  Manolin tilted his head to see the old man framed by the block of misty light in the doorway, his hat tipped to one side, leaning with his usual casual arrogance.

  ‘Bad dream.’ Manolin thought that Santiago sounded surprisingly alert given the time, as if he’d not slept.

  ‘What was it about?’ Santiago said.

  Nothing.’

  ‘Come on, talking will rationalise it. Then it’s unlikely you’ll dream it again.’

  ‘I’m surprised you’d take an interest,’ Manolin said. ‘Anyway, dreams aren’t rational.’

  ‘Don’t be so nonsensical. Come on, out with it man.’

  ‘My ex-wife,’ Manolin said.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I dreamt I was having the conversation with her again. After I caught her. Except it was scarily calm.’

  ‘What were you talking about?’

  Manolin sighed, struggled to decipher the images he’d just put to one side. He said, ‘She was giving calm reasons why she had to do it. She said that he was more of a man than me.’

  ‘Women tell you that crap to hurt you,’ Santiago said. ‘They all do it. They know it’s the only thing that’lI get to you. They think it will make you act in a way they want.’

  ‘She’s probably right though,’ Manolin said.

  ‘Nonsense, man. The amount of chaps that I’ve seen hurt by a woman-well, there’re a lot of them, let’s put it that way. And just as many women hurt by men. It’s the way of things. It has been for an age. Will be again.’

  ‘Doesn’t help much,’ Manolin said. ‘Still hurts.’

  ‘Was just a dream, Manny. Just a dream.’

  ‘But it wasn’t though, was it. She did do those things. You know when you have a dream and it seems so real, then you wake and you spend minutes panicking to make sure it’s not real? Well, it’s real. She did cheat. I’m hardly a man-’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Santiago said. ‘And what do you mean by “a man”? You mean you want to go out and fuck as many women as possible? You mean you want to be so distant and never cry in front of a woman? You mean you want to drink yourself into an early grave to prove yourself? Those are the easy things to do. Those are the things that happen when you aren’t a man. A real man stands by a family, no matter what. He supports them through every circumstance. That’s a man. He can be sensitive, be
cause that’s what women are. Sensitive creatures. They need you to be open. And just because you’re not like every other man who has to drink to have a good time. Those are all things to avoid being a man. Trust me, lad, you’re more than a man than you think. Don’t let a dream knock you back.’

  Manolin sighed. It was too early for all this talk. The old man sounded bitter, as if years of scorn and hurt were the seeds for such a well-rehearsed speech. Gulls cried out somewhere in the distance, then some unknown creature from the forest called, its voice echoing along the bay. ‘So why am I alone?’

  ‘Because you’re on an island in the middle of nowhere. And because, lad, that’s just the way the wind blows. Nothing more, nothing less. And, ultimately, you’re the only one to change it. Back home there’re dozens of ideal ladies-and I mean ladies-that are waiting for someone like you. Hell, there’s even Becq. She’s a great heart, Manny.’

  ‘Sure.’ Manolin lay down again, listened to the tide. So many thoughts about the mainland and its opportunities filled his mind. He felt no need to face them, not here. Whether it was because he was hiding, or because of some more noble reason, he didn’t know. It was just something he wasn’t prepared to examine. Not just yet.

  Manolin rowed the raft to the beach. Santiago stepped out cautiously, Manolin following. They were heading to the village for breakfast. It was windy and there were thin clouds. Manolin passed Forb’s hut.

  ‘I’m just popping in,’ he said.

  Santiago continued up the beach.

  Manolin looked inside, but there was no one there. Strange, he thought. He stepped out as Myranda was walking up the steps. ‘Morning. Is the doctor up and about?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling. ‘He was walking early this morning and now he’s going for a stroll.’

  ‘Is that wise?’

  ‘Oh, I know what he’s like. It’s not as though anything I say will stop him. I sent Lewys to watch him from a distance.’

  ‘Well, that’s all right then.’ Manolin paused whilst he held the door open for Myranda. She smiled as she walked by. He noticed that her hair had been tied up in some tribal fashion that he didn’t understand, hunks of carved bamboo sticking out. ‘I like your hair. It really suits you.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s nice that you notice. I have to keep trying here. It’s hard competing with all those larger women. Only Forb ever looks at me.’

  Manolin followed her inside. ‘Well, that’s rubbish for a start.’

  Lewys could see the bald head of his father from some way away, so he was certain he wouldn’t be spotted. His mother had told him that his father was full of pride, so he didn’t want to hurt his feelings by being seen. The forest was cool, quiet. He crept through the ferns, off of the path where the opportunity came. His father’s movements were slow and considered, his steps hesitant on paths that should have been well known to him. It made him easy to follow.

  Lewys liked the forest. It was dark and he could get up to things he couldn’t do near the village. There was always something to explore, were always creatures to investigate. The forest was where he could play. He had heard of the cities of the mainland only in stories his father had told him, but he found it hard to believe anything else other than this lush greenery, the intense crowding of nature. It overtook your senses. To be in somewhere so barren, with massive stone buildings was bewildering, alien. It wasn’t right, either. Lewys had always been taught how bad they were by his father-that people were unfriendly, that communities were not close. Diversity of life crumbled. Lewys wasn’t sure if he could ever be apart from this island. It had become his life, it was the precise limits to his experience. And he was quite happy with that.

  It was strange enough with the foreigners here, with their funny clothing and petty arguments. They only seemed to bring trouble with them. Everything was fine before they came along. His father wasn’t injured, there were no people being killed by strange devices. They were a weird bunch. Apart from Manolin. Lewys liked him. He was almost like his father. They talked about the same subjects and got on well. The best thing about Manolin was that he treated Lewys like a person. All the other foreigners, and sometimes people from the village, talked down to him. Manolin wasn’t like that.

  Most of it the forest Lewys knew well, which is why he could tell his father was heading towards the ichthyocentaurs’ village. He didn’t know why. He followed through shaded paths, past creepers and palms, along the fig region, up the slope. He could see the perspiration on his father’s head. Lewys hoped that he wasn’t struggling-it wasn’t even particularly hot. Every movement his father made suggested pain, which upset Lewys. He wanted to run up and help his father up the slope. But he remembered his mother’s instructions, and wouldn’t do that.

  His father rested his hand on a tree, place his forehead against the back of his hand, and Lewys wanted to shout out. In the growing humidity of the forest, Lewys waited. Forb stood up straight, then continued upwards, through the changing foliage. Lewys saw all the birds he knew up in the canopy, but he did not pay too much attention to them.

  The sun came out sending spots of light though the canopy, illuminating his father, who was now limping up the slope. He stumbled on a tree root, but did not fall down. This was a relief to Lewys.

  His father changed direction. Lewys leapt behind a fern. He watched his father head away from the village then up to the path to the summit of the volcano. Lewys looked at his father under furrowed brows.

  Lewys lost track of his father as he waited until it was safe to enter the bright grass path. Still, he remained close to the forest as if he were stalking a hog. He found the experience exciting in some way he did not understand.

  There was a strong breeze as Lewys climbed the slope and saw his father’s white shirt waving in the wind. He looked around, noticed that the horizon was pale where there were clouds and you could see the sea now, above the forest, from his position near the volcano summit. It was violent, breaking against the reef with a lot of energy. He turned to see his father dip over the summit.

  Lewys ran up.

  As he reached the summit he saw his father. Lewys crouched. His father was on his hands and knees, his shirt rippling like sails on a ship. He tried to stand up, span around as if he was trying to examine the panorama. Then he fell.

  Lewys saw his father turn on his back and lie flat.

  He ran over to him, his legs struggling in the strong wind.

  When he reached him, Lewys stopped. His father’s eyes were open, staring up. He moved his head so that his father could see him. Lewys shook him, saying nothing, and was met with an expressionless gaze.

  It was almost thoughtful, as though his father was realising some great fact. Lewys looked down, noticed that he wasn’t breathing. He placed his head sideways on his father’s chest. Nothing could be heard.

  Lewys remained there for some time, uncertain of what to do. He moved his arms around his father’s body until it became stiff. He felt the wind blowing his tears around his eyes and his stomach felt sick. He didn’t want to look up. He wanted to stay there, without moving. Somehow he knew-he didn’t want it to be true, but he knew. He wanted to stay still, like his father, and not hurt his pride. Not now. He could hear a gull cry overhead. Then Lewys’s was fixed on the sea, and the rhythmic movements and sounds. When he was too exhausted from crying, he lay sideways regarding the bright horizon.

  A line of ichthyocentaurs walked towards the village. They were carrying a stretcher. As they came to the village, Manolin saw that the body on it was Forb’s. Lewys was walking at the rear. A group of semi-naked villagers ran to the ichthyocentaurs, in front of Manolin. They crowded around to see the body. Gasps could be heard. Manolin stood up, pushed through the dozens of villagers. Santiago followed. They came to the centre. Forb lying on the stretcher, colour drained from his face.

  Manolin signed to the four ichthyocentaur that lowered the stretcher to the sand. What happened?

  Lewys brought us to Doctor.
Doctor dead, one of them signed.

  ‘Fuck,’ Manolin said. He waded through the crowd to Lewys. Manolin crouched next to him. ‘Lewys, are you all right?’ Lewys nodded, strands of hair falling across his eyes. ‘What happened?’ Manolin said. ‘Mother asked me to follow him. He was all right, then all of a sudden he fell. When I ran to him he was lying there, still.’

  Manolin noticed that Lewys was looking right through him, almost detached from the scene entirely. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ ‘I’ll be all right.’ Just as he spoke, the crowd of muttering villagers parted, and

  Myranda walked through to her husband’s body. Manolin looked up then turned to her. He ushered Lewys towards where his mother knelt by Forb. Manolin glanced across at Santiago, who nodded reassuringly.

  ‘Myranda .. .’ Manolin said. He didn’t really know what to say.

  Her eyes were filled with tears, although her face was calm. She embraced Lewys. Manolin placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?’

  She shook her head. He stepped away, motioned with his hands for everyone else to do the same. ‘I think we should leave them to it for a moment,’ he whispered to several natives.

  They separated then stood in small groups further off. Santiago walked with Manolin, away from where they were standing. Becq, Yana and Jefry approached.

  ‘What happened?’ Yana asked.

  ‘The doctor’s no longer with us,’ Santiago said.

  ‘How?’ Yana said.

  ‘I think it was his medication,’ Manolin said.

  ‘Medication?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Manolin said. ‘He had cancer, and was using some herb that the ichthyocentaurs had prepared for him. He wasn’t able to take any when unconscious. I suspect it was that that got him.’

  ‘Cancer? How could you possibly know that?’ Santiago asked.

  ‘He told me,’ Manolin said.

  ‘Did he, indeed,’ Santiago said.