The woman triumphantly brandishes the broken chain with the ring hanging from it in front of my face, swinging it to and fro. I rub my neck where the chain had snapped against it. The whole area stings.
The captain comes over to see what all the fuss is about.
“What’s happening here now?” he asks, trying to calm the situation.
Still rubbing my neck, I try to explain how I found the ring—but it’s difficult being heard due to the accusations being hurled at me, not only by the woman but others around her in the crowd who are taking her side.
By now a man who seems to be her husband is standing beside her and listening carefully to my story. He tries to calm his wife down, saying, “Maybe what she says is true.”
The woman looks at her husband enquiringly, still angry. She stops swinging the chain.
The husband continues. “The ring was not stolen on this ship. It was originally stolen on Levy Archipelago, and the thief must have brought it on board, pretending it to be one of their precious possessions, and stashed it in a bag belonging to this girl’s family.”
His wife hasn’t given up yet. “But she had my ring—she’s a thief!”
“Give her a break,” says Gavin.
“This girl isn’t from Levy Archipelago—she’s never even set foot on the island, so how could she have stolen it from you there?” her husband asks.
I look at the husband, hanging on to his every word, as he seems to believe me.
“My wife was frantically looking for it everywhere when we were told to pack our things,” he continues.
The woman’s face changes as the facts sink in. “It’s true. I was racking my brains trying to remember when the last time was I had seen this ring, and it had been months, I realized. I gave up looking for it when it was time to leave the house to board the ship. I was heartbroken I had to leave without it, as it belonged to my grandmother and I really wanted it with me in our new lives.”
She jams the ring onto her finger. She holds her hand with arm outstretched, admiring her ring and smiling.
She then turns back to me and says, “Tell me exactly who had it in their possession, then.”
“Knowing that won’t help matters,” says the captain. “I’m glad the ring seems to have found its rightful owner, so let’s leave it at that. It’s just a reminder that you all must be careful of your possessions on board.”
The woman opens her mouth as if to continue, but her husband says to let it rest. She finally gives me the chain back, apologizing for having snapped it. I’m furious she’s broken it, but I just want the whole incident to be over. I slip the chain into my pocket along with Rosa’s charm.
I look up to see Jade’s pale determined face as she pushes her way through the crowd.
She must have come to find me!
Jade finally reaches me. She helps me into a sitting position and the others draw away to create some space. Jade gently wipes my tears with a tissue while another woman helps stem my nosebleed with the corner of her skirt. I try not to think of the germs on the skirt—I’m just so grateful it all seems to be over. Suddenly somebody starts to clap, and then the clapping is taken up by another, then another. This is friendly applause, not the ominous sound of just moments before. Soon everybody is applauding and smiling at me and saying, “Thank you, thank you,” as if it’s me taking them to Australia. They must think of Australia as the land of milk and honey.
All I want to do is go to my cabin, but it’s hours until my shift starts again. Through the fog of my emotions, a hand slips into mine and helps me onto my feet—Jade. Now I feel utterly rescued. The distance between us disappears in that instant.
Chapter Thirteen: Day Twelve Ship
THIS MORNING we’re awoken at seven by an announcement to make our final pack up before we leave the cabins at 8:00 a.m., and to place our cases outside our doors so we won’t have to go into the cabins again. We are to leave the towels on the bathroom floor under the vanity unit so the next shift won’t trip over them, and to put all our sheets into the pillowcases and put them into the wardrobe. Only one more shift is going to use the cabin today. So we must be arriving in port before the third shift has their turn. Sheryl then gets into a panic about her sister’s bags, and we set off to her old cabin to retrieve them. In all the fuss of people packing up, no one is bothered that we take Sheryl’s sister’s luggage—if anything they’re relieved not to have to deal with it. We put her bags outside our cabin with all the rest. It’s a huge mound now.
It’s hard to fill in the day, we’re so restless, knowing that finally something is going to happen. Will we be on land at last after so many days at sea? And where will that be? The captain had said Australia, but with Australia’s long coastline it really could be just about anywhere. During the day we can see other ships in the distance, getting closer to us. They aren’t navy ships—they must be some of the others we’d last seen when we were leaving Levy Archipelago all those days ago.
Finally a hump of land appears and we sail closer and closer to it.
Land! I hadn’t realized I missed it so much. Life at sea has almost become normal after so long. I wish we had some binoculars to have a good look at where we are arriving. Mum had taken ours with her on that day excursion in Fiji, which seems like a lifetime ago now so much has happened since then.
As our ship steams closer to land, Jade and I manage to get a vantage point from one of the top decks. Our ship is in the lead, and as we look back over our shoulders, we can see the other massive ships are moving in closer, sailing in an arrow shape, with us at its tip. Three ships sail diagonally on either side, the third ones the most distant, and directly behind us in a straight line are three more ships, one behind the other. It’s an incredible spectacle.
“There are ten!” shouts Jade. “They’ve actually gone and done it.”
We can see the decks of the other ships are crowded with passengers, all gazing toward the ever-nearing land.
As Jade and I gaze into the distance, a strange sensation comes over me.
“I know where we are,” I cry in wonder. Tears start rolling down my cheeks.
“Where?”
“We’re coming into Hobart!”
“How do you know?”
It must all just look like a hazy bundle of cliffs in the distance to her.
“The land. I know the shape of the land so well, from when Dad takes us sailing!”
“Wow!” She hugs me tight.
“The Iron Pot. We’ve just come round the Iron Pot!”
“Iron Pot?”
“Yes, see that rocky little island with the lighthouse on it?” I point to the familiar landmark.
As we sail up the River Derwent, I can see kunanyi/Mount Wellington towering over the city. Looking back, we can see behind us some of the other ships peeling away. They’re heading to Blackmans Bay and Kingston beach. Yet others sail off in the direction of Howrah and Bellerive beaches.
The four ships, one behind the other, that made the arrow shaft shape keep steaming up the river toward the harbor.
Our ship and three others are sailing right into the main Hobart docks, while the others must be going to beach themselves on the sand. There are no docks where they’re heading.
As we get closer, I can make out individual trees, houses, cars, and then people, and even dogs. Hundreds of people are lining the shore watching us coming in. Helicopters are now circling above, cameras pointing down at us. We wave enthusiastically up at them.
When we come into port, the authorities try to stop us by putting police boats between the ships and the shore. But it soon becomes clear the ships are stopping for no one, and that if the police in their small boats persist their lives will be in danger.
Finally we come right into the Hobart docks and pull up at the pier. I know Hobart can take four giant cruise ships in one go, as that has happened regularly in the past in peak tourist season, when the megaliths fill everyone’s view. Hobart being on hilly slopes, mos
t houses have a direct view of the river, and the cruise ships always look massive against the low skyline of Hobart. The only thing that dwarfs the ships is the eternal shape of kunanyi/Mount Wellington, our mother mountain who watches over us. But she’s never witnessed anything like this. Nothing this weird has happened since the day Europeans sailed into the harbor for the first time and changed Tasmania forever.
“Order, order,” cry the crew members, trying to avoid panic. They are vastly outnumbered.
We want to get off, and fast, but we know any panic could trigger a stampede, and with the number of passengers on board, people could be trampled. Injuries or even death could occur if things got out of hand. So we wait patiently until we are given the go-ahead to disembark. I sit on my suitcase and have my hand luggage plus Mum’s and Rosa’s luggage on either side of me. Jade has gone off to get her parents’ bags, and I’m minding hers as well. Sheryl sits there in her wheelchair surrounded by luggage too. Jade finally staggers back through the crowds, dragging two more cases with hand luggage balanced on top. How on earth are we going to get this colossal amount of luggage off the ship? Eight suitcases and eight pieces of hand luggage!
“I walked on to this ship, and I’m walking off,” says Sheryl. “Let’s stack the suitcases up in my wheelchair.”
I look down at Sheryl’s swollen feet and try to protest, but she’s determined.
“It’s the only way,” she says.
She’s right. We put the biggest case on the bottom and then place them in diminishing size until the smallest suitcase is on the top. We still have eight pieces of hand luggage to deal with. One stacked on top of another makes four piles.
I say, “I’ll push the wheelchair and steady the stack of suitcases, and you two will have to drag two pieces of hand luggage in each hand.”
We look at each other, then burst out laughing. It’s totally ridiculous. But doable.
Our gangway is lowered and passengers pour off the ship, dragging or carrying their luggage. It’s a human tsunami, and even though there are hundreds of police and people dressed in army uniforms on the wharf, the authorities can’t stop the wave of humanity. I can’t see Marta or Simone anywhere among the crowds to say goodbye.
Jade, Sheryl, and I finally get off the boat. It’s really hard with the wheelchair covered in cases so high I can’t see over the top of them. I have to tip the wheelchair back a bit on its wheels so the suitcases will stay more or less horizontal as we slowly make our way down the gangplank. Sheryl’s and Jade’s piles of hand luggage keep tipping over and they have to continually bend down and pick them up again, rebalancing one on top of the other.
It’s so difficult juggling all the luggage, and I know we won’t get very far like this. Suddenly I have an idea. Leaving all the bags with Jade and Sheryl, I rush over to Mures, the seafood restaurant on the docks, where Mum is good friends with the manager, Sally. She hugs me until she almost squeezes me half to death—she knows all about how my ship was hijacked and then disappeared. She wants to ring Mum straightaway to let her know I’m safe, but I say I want to surprise her, just turning up unannounced at our front door. Sally finally agrees, and also says she’s happy to store our bags for us in a room off the restaurant’s kitchen until Mum comes to collect them. I want to keep Sheryl’s and Jade’s bags with us, though, as that is all they have with them in the world at the moment, whereas I have other stuff at home I can wear and use until the bags are all collected.
With Jade pushing Sheryl, who has her and Jade’s hand luggage across her lap now, handbag balanced on top of that, I trundle Jade’s and Sheryl’s suitcases up the footpath to the Franklin Square bus stop. No authorities stand in our way. There are just too many people milling around the docks to deal with everyone coming off the ships.
We catch the bus to Blackmans Bay. It’s so strange being in such a familiar environment after everything that’s happened. As the bus rounds the corner, we can see two of the massive ships on the sand. The beach is swarming with people. We hop off, and everyone else in the bus, including the bus driver, gets off too. They want to go down and see the action for themselves. I’m pushing Sheryl now, and Jade’s dragging the bags up D’Entrecasteaux Street. When I see my house at the end of the cul-de-sac, tears sting my eyes. Home.
But nobody is home. Of course, Mum and Rosa will be down at the beach to see what’s happening. People in the street are streaming down to the seaside to see the giant cruise ships parked on the beach.
I grab the two pieces of hand luggage off Sheryl’s lap, and leave their luggage in the porch, as I don’t have a key with me. We head down to the shore. It’s easier pushing Sheryl then, as we’re now going downhill, but I have to be careful the wheelchair doesn’t run away from me with gravity. The last thing we need now is for an accident to happen to Sheryl.
Those with houses on the esplanade or at the hotel and the pizza restaurant have a bird’s-eye view without needing to leave their comfortable seats, and watch on, drinks in hand. You’d think they were witnessing a festival from a comfortable distance.
Chapter Fourteen: Day One Shore
IT TAKES about half an hour for me to find Mum and Rosa. They see me and push their way through the crowds. Mum clutches me so hard I feel like I’m going to break in two. Rosa grabs me too, and we hug so tight. She tugs the hem of my dress, as she recognizes it as one of hers. We’re so overwhelmed we can’t speak. No words can describe our sensations and feelings. None.
Jade and Sheryl stare from me to Rosa and back again. They’re speechless as well.
We forget in the heat of the moment that we’re so alike, and that it stuns others the first time they see us together.
I pull out Dad’s gift for Rosa, which I’d put in my pocket when I realized we were heading into Hobart. Rosa opens the package and immediately pops the earrings into her ears. Then she and I simultaneously reach out and pull an earring gently from each other’s ear and place it in our own earlobe. We now have our own matching earrings, and not a word has been spoken. I have the turtles, and Rosa has the seahorses. I decide to tell her all about her broken chain later. I don’t want to spoil the homecoming mood.
Mum immediately rings Dad. He’s witnessing the same spectacle from the opposite side of the river, on the Eastern Shore. He says he saw three ships heading over to his side of the river, with one of the ships coming onto Bellerive Beach. The other two he can see in the distance are on Howrah Beach. Bellerive Beach is swarming with thousands upon thousands of people too. As he is speaking to Mum, I’m trying to grab the phone off her so I can speak to him. I’m so happy to hear his voice again. He’s excited, and I can hear the warmth in his voice as well as sheer relief. But it’s difficult to make out what he’s saying over the noise of the crowds on the beach. And there’s background noise on his end too.
“Honey,” he says, “I’m afraid I’ve got to go. We’ve decided to open up the Blundstone Arena, so at least some of these people can sit in a proper seat, rather than just sitting in the sand. And we’ve got to give them access to toilets, pronto. The few cubicles here on the beach are nowhere near enough.”
I hadn’t thought about toilets for all these people coming off the ship. But I realize now, you can’t just suddenly find enough toilets for an extra third of the number of people who live in the whole of Hobart.
I know the arena can seat nineteen thousand or so people, and then there is the central oval that’s covered in grass they can sit on too. But that will soon be completely packed with the thirty-six thousand or so people who would have disembarked from three overcrowded ships on Howrah and Bellerive Beaches. How on earth are all these people going to be dealt with?
There is nothing much Mum, Rosa, Jade, Sheryl, and I can do on Blackmans Bay beach, and so we decide it’s better to go home, to at least reduce the huge numbers by five. Not that five will really make any difference among the sea of humanity. But it’s overwhelming and anyway, we all need a rest after such drama. Or even collapse.
As we walk up the street, I see Zac sitting on our porch looking at his phone. He looks up when he hears us coming and runs down the street, lifting me in his arms and kissing me all over my face. He’s laughing and looks so happy, and all I feel is guilt as I stiffen in his arms. This just doesn’t seem right anymore. He puts me down again, a puzzled look on his face.
We put the television on as soon as we get inside, and all the stations are filled with the story, as regular programs are interrupted to update the situation. Apparently the prime minister is flying down to take control, and the army is being called in. I sit down next to Jade on the couch, and Zac sits next to me on my other side. I squirm with discomfort. I’m so glad the television is taking up all of our attention, as I can’t look Zac in the eye. Zac grabs my hand and starts stroking his thumb across the back of it while still looking at the TV. His hand feels big and clammy and possessive, and his thumb skin is rough. I hold it for a little while, then gently slip my hand out of his grasp and put both my hands together in my lap. In my peripheral vision I can see him glance at me, but I don’t turn to face him.
Later, when the prime minister arrives, we see her being interviewed. She says the army chief, General Stockard, will be in control, and all citizens must follow the general’s orders. Frances Stockard is a person who inspires confidence.
Buses have come streaming into Hobart from all over Tasmania to deal with the large numbers of people. Some people are already in the Blundstone Arena, while others are bussed to the Convention Centre, Princes Wharves 1 and 2, the IMAS building, the Brooke Street Pier, some of the large buildings in the Macquarie Port area, to the Showgrounds, the Derwent Entertainment Centre, and to all the local school auditoriums. This gives immediate shelter or at least somewhere to sit, and access to running water. It’s so pathetic to see the citizens of Levy Archipelago clutching their possessions or dragging suitcases with wheels so sand clogged they won’t turn properly. Their possessions must indeed seem so precious, as that is the culmination of all their previous lives—the most important things they’d decided they just had to save from the rising waters.
Jilda's Ark Page 11
