by Helen Goltz
“But, the greatest mystery of them all,” Uncle Seb continued, “was the Mahogney Ship. She went missing in 1836 and has never been found to this day, so she could be anywhere,” he waved his arm.
I felt goose bumps rising on my skin. “How can a whole ship be lost and never found?”
“Yeah, sounds impossible, doesn’t it?” Uncle Seb sipped his tea. “But it happens. Planes used to go missing in the Bermuda Triangle all the time, stranger things have happened. The Mahogney was sighted a few times, or people thought they sighted an ancient looking wreck here and near Warrnambool, but she’s never been found.”
I looked over at my uncle and studied him. “Have you looked for it?”
“It’s been part of my life’s work. I can’t stand not knowing where it is ... it has to be out there somewhere,” he squinted. “The government even put up a reward once, $250,000, but no sight of it.”
“Wow, that’s weird.” I looked back out to sea, watching the ship move along the horizon line.
“Do you believe there are ... ghosts, like sailors lost at sea trying to come to shore?” I hesitated to ask in case Uncle Seb thought I was a major idiot but curiosity got the better of me.
“Oh yes!” he said.
“Really? I thought since you’re a scientist and kind of technical, that you would think that was stupid,” I said.
“I think you have to be open to everything in the universe,” Uncle Seb said, and surprised me again. “There have been many ghostly sightings, not just of the Mahogney. I wish I could say I’ve seen some, but no, not in all the time I’ve lived and worked here. I want to see them ... but you’ll find plenty in the village who will tell you stories. There’s second and third generation ancestors of ship crews here, so lots of tales, some probably exaggerated along the way.” He turned to look at me.
“Why, seen a ghost ship?”
“No,” I laughed. “I’ve only been here a day! But ... yesterday at dusk, when you left me to settle in, I thought I saw something on the rocks, but when I looked back it was gone ... could have been just the light on the water, nothing, you know, but that’s what got me thinking about the spirits of the sea.”
“I like that,” Uncle Seb said, “spirits of the sea.”
We turned to view the ocean liner again and Uncle Seb pointed to the rocks. “There’s Adam now ... see there, near the stage ...”
“Stage?” I squinted across the beach to the sand dunes.
“We, the locals call that rock outlet that looks like a stage, the stage.”
I watched Adam as he walked onto the stage and stretched, finishing with his hands on his hips looking out to sea, his silhouette dark against the morning sky.
“How can you tell who it is from here?”
“I’ve know Adam since he was a baby. Besides, he goes there most mornings after his run. After a while you get to know most of the people in the village. I can pick them by the way they walk and talk.”
“How come he’s staying with you, if I’m allowed to ask?”
“Sure. When he finished high school last year, his parents wanted to travel but he got the apprenticeship. So he decided to stay and rather than flat alone, he moved in here,” Uncle Seb said. “It’s a big place and we don’t see each other much.”
“Your family is getting bigger and bigger,” I said.
Uncle Seb looked over at me and smiled, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him.
“That’s true,” he said. “That’s a good thing. Your world will be bigger too once you start school on Monday and make some new friends.”
“Is it far?” I asked, ‘to school I mean?” I finished my tea and thanked Uncle Seb.
“About twenty-five minutes on the school bus. You would be used to that in the city.”
I nodded. I wasn’t looking forward to it; I wanted to finish high school with my friends in Brisbane. Everyone here would already have their friends sorted.
The ship was moving out of the frame of the window. The dogs stirred and Agnes rose and put her head in Uncle Seb’s lap. I turned as something caught my eye; it was just Adam as he jumped from the ‘stage’ and began to walk up the beach towards our house.
“Ask Adam to tell you about his ancestors, interesting story there,” Uncle Seb said, rising. “Breakfast!” he declared and Argo and Agnes jumped up and took to the stairs. “Come down when you’re ready. I’ll scramble some eggs.”
Chapter 3
OPHELIA
The school was huge; modern and crowded. A sea of blue uniforms filled the yard and with a deep breath and a wish to be anywhere but here, I threw my backpack over my shoulder and entered the school gate. What I would give to go back to my other life—to be walking into the grounds of my old school and catching up with everyone again after holiday break.
Uncle Seb warned me it might take a while to fit in; he’d changed schools a few times when he was a kid with his and Mum’s dad being in the Air Force. He offered to come with me, but I told him it’s cool, I’m sixteen, not six and I would be fine. Besides, I have to learn to be alone now.
It started on the bus on the way in, I was the circus freak—no one spoke to me of course but they all seemed to know each other and I could see them staring and whispering. I guess a new girl arriving for year eleven is going to attract a bit of attention; especially arriving for term two after the school holidays. Worst case scenario, I only had half of year eleven and all of year twelve left ... I could just spend lunch hours in the library and do my own thing.
I sighed and told myself to get on with it. I followed the signs to the administration block and presented myself at the front desk.
“Now you are either Jacqui Passmore or Ophelia Montague and given Jacqui is going into grade four today, I’m guessing you are Ophelia?” a large red-haired woman, with a name tag reading Mrs. Carroll said to me.
“I’m Ophelia Montague, with no desire to do grade four again!” I smiled at her.
Mrs. Carroll laughed heartily. “You wait until you are my age dear, you would give it all to go back to grade four. Now, we have a buddy for you ... that is, a buddy system, someone who will look after you for your first week.”
“Oh, that’s good,” I brightened.
“You didn’t think we’d just throw you in class amongst that lot and let you fend for yourself did you? In fact here she comes now.”
I followed Mrs. Carroll’s gaze and turned to see a thin Asian girl walking towards the office. She wore wire-framed glasses, and had a long dark braid of hair worn on one side of her head only. She wore the uniform to perfection—even her socks were pulled up to her knees. Pinned near her collar was a small badge that read Prefect.
“There you are, dear,” Mrs. Carroll greeted her. “Ophelia Montague, this is your buddy for the week, Peggy Carboney. Peggy is one of our top students and she’ll look after you.”
Peggy stuck out her hand and I shook it. “My name’s Margaret, but really, how old fashioned, so I go by my nickname, Peggy, because I really like horses and my mother used to call me Pegasus.”
Right, I tried to keep up.
Peggy turned. “Oh sorry Mrs. Carroll, I hope your first name isn’t Margaret?”
“Quite alright my dear, it is actually Carol. Carol Carroll, can you believe I married a man with the surname Carroll, I used to be Carol Dartmoor when I was your age.” She laughed heartily. “But now, Ophelia is a lovely old-fashioned name.”
“From Shakespeare,” I added. “Thanks for looking out for me this week,” I said to Peggy.
“My pleasure. We don’t get many new people in year eleven, we get some in year seven moving over from other schools, but most of us went to primary school together. We’ve both got English for our first subject, so I’ll introduce you around. Bye Mrs. Carroll.”
Peggy said all that in one breath and then she took off. I gave Mrs. Carroll an appreciative wave and hurried to catch up with Peggy.
“I know what you are thinking ... how can I be Asian
with a surname like Carboney,” Peggy said.
The thought hadn’t crossed my mind but I didn’t have a chance to tell Peggy that because she kept talking.
“My mother is Malaysian but my father is Australian. They met when my father was working overseas; he’s a violinist and so is my mother. They met performing. Romantic huh?”
“Sure,” I agreed following Peggy. I didn’t really like small talk ... once you got past the weather chat, it seemed kind of pointless, but I gave it a shot.
“So are you musical?” I asked her.
“Not a bit.”
Well that went well.
“Must be exciting to be new in town and at a new school,” Peggy continued, her eyes lit up. “I’ve been here all my life. Mum and Dad go away to perform sometimes, but we’ve always lived here. Are you excited?”
“No, not really,” I said. “I’ve left behind my best friends and I’m guessing most people here have their own group by now ... so I feel a bit ...”
“On the outer?” Peggy finished as we walked into a hallway stacked with lockers.
“Exactly ... on the outer,” I repeated.
She pointed me towards an empty locker. “Will that one do? You just need the English text books and a pad.”
“Sure,” I said and fished for my lock and key in the side of the backpack.
“Don’t worry,” Peggy grabbed a few books from the locker three-up from me. “I’ve been on the outer since day one, so I get it,” she laughed. “You’ve always got me.”
“Thank you,” I smiled at her. “I appreciate it.”
Peggy blushed; I don’t think she was accustomed to praise. I’m glad I had her though—it would make entering the classroom easier.
“Let’s go meet Mr. Wall, our English teacher, you’ll like him, he’s funny.” She waited as I locked up and then Peggy led the way.
*****
Mr. Wall stood at the front of the classroom and held a thin book to his chest. He was a small, skinny man with large, black-framed glasses, a full crop of dark hair and a big grin. I did a rough count; twenty four students sat in the class.
“Okay, how many of you read The Glass Menagerie like you were supposed to over the holidays?” he asked.
There was a show of about a dozen hands.
“Hmm,” he sighed. “There should only be one hand not up and that’s our new person who didn’t know she had to read it. Well those who haven’t read it will be reading late tonight then, won’t you? Any chance you have read it, Ophelia?”
“Ah yes, we did it last year,” I answered.
He grinned. “Excellent, we have an expert in our midst. I would start paying Ophelia off now if you want help.”
“But it’s depressing, Sir,” Rodney Brady quipped.
“Yes, Rodney, it is. But so is the Australian cricket team at the moment and that doesn’t stop us playing cricket does it? Now let’s begin by looking at the lead characters, do we like them? Mr. Jones?”
“No, Mr. Wall.”
“No indeed, they are not likeable,” Mr. Wall agreed. “Mr. Smythe, stop staring at the new girl and look at me please!”
Everyone laughed and I felt everyone’s eyes turn to me except Smythe’s. I sunk down lower in the chair.
HOLLY
On our way home from school, I saw Ophelia—the new girl—at the bus stop. She was small, thin and pale with dark hair and big eyes ... sort of startled. I was about to say hi when the bus arrived so we all piled on.
I sat behind my brother; we don’t want to sit together. “Sit here, if you like,” he piped up as she passed; he would.
Ophelia turned towards him, I don’t know if she recognised him from the English class earlier. He pointed to the empty seat beside him.
“Thanks,” she dropped next to him.
“We’re neighbours, sort of. I live at the end of the street, near the dead end and you’re ... well perched on the edge. I’m Harry. Harry Geering.”
“Ophelia ...”
“I know,” he cut her off. “We all know your name—you’re the only new person this year, but you’ll find it harder to remember all of ours. How do you shorten that? Got a nickname?”
“Lia,” Ophelia answered.
“Better,” he agreed. “I get called Geers.”
I couldn’t help myself and I leaned forward and stuck my head between them.
“No one calls you Geers,” I said and Harry rolled his eyes. I extended my hand to Ophelia. “I’m Holly.”
“She’s my twin sister,” Harry said in a flat voice.
I smirked. “Ophelia can tell that, I’m sure, except I’m clearly the better looking twin.”
Ophelia laughed. “You look nothing alike,” she looked from Harry to me. Harry had ginger hair and freckles with green eyes, while I was blonde, bleached blonde, with green eyes which I heavily traced in pencil because they popped like that.
“We looked alike when we were kids before Holly started ruining our natural given beauty,” Harry said.
I ignored him and addressed myself to Ophelia. “You’ve come from Brisbane? I heard you’re staying with Sebastian. He’s lovely, our mum has a crush on him, but I don’t think he’s ever noticed, even though she’s been dropping over meals and cakes since she and Dad divorced five years ago.”
“Perhaps you can put in a good word for her,” Harry added.
“But then, if they hitch up, we could all end up living in the one house,” I pointed out the obvious. “That would be insane. How many bathrooms does your house have?”
“Three,” Ophelia said.
I smiled, getting ahead of myself. “Three, well, that might work.”
Ophelia laughed, I think we were going to like this new girl.
ADAM
I finished work early today and got home just after three. I hadn’t met Sebastian’s niece yet. She was in bed when I got home last night and she was still up in her room this morning when I had my shower and left for work. Poor kid, must be awful to have your world pulled out from underneath you. I changed out of my work gear and made my way down to the beach for a surf. The waves were crap, so I had a quick swim and then ventured onto the rocks so I could watch the tide come in. I took a deep breath; I loved the salt air.
As the last wave was sucked back out, I saw all the bubbles from the little pippis appear in the sand before the next wave returned to cover them. I licked the salt spray from my lips. One more month until it was officially winter and the warm air would be replaced with a chill and all the summer tans would fade. I brushed some sand off my arm looking at the tan I got this summer.
The water level began to rise—I moved higher to sit down onto a dry rock and rested my chin on my legs. The wind rose and whipped my hair into my eyes; it was thick with salt from my earlier swim. I glanced out imaging as I often did what it must have been like to row out in wild conditions in the dark to rescue someone like William, my great-times-by-three-grandfather did, especially when he couldn’t swim. Don’t think I’d do it, not really heroic I know but that’s the way it is. You learn the strength of the ocean growing up with it and you gain a healthy respect for it if you’re clever.
I heard a car and turned to see Seb driving along the nearby road heading home after work. I raised a hand in salute as Sebastian’s arm extended, waving from the 4WD window. I followed his journey up the winding road to the ramshackled house perched on the edge that we call home. I saw her then, Ophelia, I hadn’t seen her come home. She was standing framed in her bedroom window—a small figure, a silhouette, but it was her. I thought she was looking at me so I raised my hand and waved to her. She seemed to hesitate, like she didn’t want to look like she had been looking at me, and then she waved back.
She move away from the window and I saw her pass the next level of windows as she made her way down, probably to greet her uncle.
I jumped as a wave licked my feet and brought me back to reality. The tide was coming in fast. I rose and scuttled off the rocks before it
was too late.
Time to meet Ophelia in person.
Chapter 4
OPHELIA
“Excellent,” Uncle Seb exclaimed swallowing his last mouthful of Mrs. Duck’s beef stew.
“Delicious,” I nodded my agreement and Uncle Seb smiled, pleased I had done my part in devouring it. It was great beef stew. Sometimes I felt guilty that my appetite was returning.
“She can cook our Mrs. Duck. She would make a good wife,” Adam ribbed Uncle Seb who laughed and shook his head.
“Except she’s married and twenty years older than me,” Uncle Seb reminded him.
“Except for that,” he agreed.
I had been trying to study Adam without staring. He was only two years older than me and had finished senior last year, but he seemed a lot older. He was easily a head taller than me, but slight and sporty. He had a runner’s physique.
“It is inherited,” Uncle Seb said.
“What is?” I asked, having lost the train of the conversation. I topped up everyone’s tea from the pot in the middle of the table.
“Talking, it’s inherited. Either that or you’ve caught it from me already.”
I guess I had said more over dinner than I had probably said since I arrived a few days ago. I shrugged. “First day at school, I had a lot to tell you ... about Peggy the Prefect, and Harry, although he wants to be called Geers but Harry’s easier to remember because he has a twin, Holly—Harry and Holly—but you probably knew that ... and then Mr. Wall was fun, but I liked Mr. Meadows too, he made history interesting. So there you have it.” I could feel myself redden. I’m sure Adam thought I was a rambling idiot.
“My parents are rovers,” he said, “so I’ve changed school six times.”
