Shadows under the Sea

by Sally Grindley

  ‘I find you the best place,’ Rey said.

  With that, he grabbed a rope that hung down from the front of the banca, took a deep breath, turned a somersault in the water and disappeared under the surface, pulling the boat along behind him so that the gas lamp lit his route. He resurfaced several metres away before plunging in again.

  Joe pulled down his mask, bit on the mouthpiece of the snorkel, rolled on to his front and carefully lowered his face into the sea. He felt the gentle ripple of the waves as he waited for his eyes to focus. When they did, he was filled with wonder at what he saw. The shapes and colours of the reef were more extraordinary than anything he had seen in books or on television and the noise was almost deafening. It was like entering a garden created by someone from a different planet. Fish of every size and hue were flitting in all directions, stopping briefly to explore nooks and crannies for food. Bright red anemones waved their tentacles alongside deep-purple sea urchins. Orange starfish crept over yellow sponge-like corals. Joe recognised a lionfish and followed its progress as it swam through crevices and willowy fronds. Then an enormous grey fish emerged just below him. He was so excited that he opened his mouth to call out – and immediately swallowed a large amount of briny water. Spluttering and choking, he rolled over to find Rey right next to him, grinning from ear to ear and holding a big crab.

  ‘Sea not taste nice, eh? You like to stroke him?’

  Joe looked doubtfully at the crab’s huge pincers.

  ‘Crab taste much nicer than sea.’ Rey smiled.

  He let the crab go, took hold of the rope and disappeared again. When at last he came back up, some distance away, he gestured to Joe’s family to come and join him.

  ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Seahorses.’

  Chapter 11

  The Brooks followed Rey as he tracked down several seahorses and related pipefish. Their guide even cupped one seahorse in his hand and gave it first to Aesha and then to Joe to hold. Joe was thrilled when the seahorse curled its black-and-yellow-striped tail round his finger.

  ‘That’s a tiger tail seahorse.’ Angela took off her mask to inform them. ‘They’re so well camouflaged that only someone as experienced as Rey can spot them, even though they’re bigger here than outside the Marine Protected Area.’

  ‘He’s so cute,’ said Aesha. ‘I can see why people are tempted to keep them as pets, even though it’s cruel.’

  When Rey pointed out a pregnant male, its belly bulging and its partner close by, Joe thought it was one of the best things he had ever seen. He was fascinated by the way they anchored themselves on sponges and pieces of coral and swayed gently in the swell.

  For an hour they explored the area where the seahorses were most abundant. Rey led them to other sea creatures as well and every few seconds something new came into view.

  This is much more fun than watching television or playing computer games, Joe decided.

  He was disappointed when the time came for them to return to the village.

  ‘We can’t stay out all night,’ said Binti as they returned to the banca. ‘Poor Angela and Rey have to work in the morning.’

  ‘Can we do it again?’ Joe asked.

  ‘We’ll see how the time goes,’ said Peter. ‘Rey will be going diving with me tomorrow so that I can take photos of the reef where it’s deeper, but we can’t expect him to miss his beauty sleep every night.’

  Rey laughed out loud. ‘Have to stay beautiful for my wife.’

  ‘I think you’ll need a quiet day tomorrow,’ Angela said to Joe. ‘I bet you won’t be up as early as usual.’

  Joe pulled a face. He was sure he would be, but he didn’t want to argue in case it sounded rude. He still felt wide awake when they reached the shore, though he could feel the tiredness in his legs as they made their way back up to the staff house.

  ‘It’s surprising how much snorkelling takes out of you, isn’t it?’ said Binti, putting her arm round his shoulders as he began to trail behind everyone else.

  ‘I’m all right,’ he said, but when they reached their room and he lay down on the sleeping mat, he went out like a light.

  Joe was woken by the sound of heavy rain. It was pitch black and he had no idea what time it was. He wanted to get up off his sleeping mat and look through the window, but he was worried about letting mosquitoes in under the net. He listened to the rain hammering on the nearby electricity generator and wondered how he would ever get back to sleep. He sat up and looked across at Aesha. She hadn’t stirred and wouldn’t, he was sure, even if someone were to explode a paper bag right by her ear.

  He lay back and listened intently. The rain was torrential, drowning out almost every other noise, but he thought he heard the buzz of a motorbike, and wondered why anyone would be driving around on such a night. The effort of listening made him feel hot. He kicked the sheets away and strained his ears. Nothing. He closed his eyes.

  The next time Joe woke, it was broad daylight and he found himself alone in the room. He leapt off his sleeping mat and ran to the window. It had stopped raining but the sky was heavy with clouds. He could hear voices coming from the thatched pavilion area and was cross with himself for oversleeping, especially knowing that Aesha was already up. What time is it? He dressed quickly and ran through the house, which was deserted.

  When he reached the pavilion, he discovered that his family was there, as well as Angela, Rey, Carl and Dario. The table was covered in used glasses and plates and everyone looked sombre.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ his father said when he saw him.

  Joe pouted. ‘Why didn’t you wake me up?’

  ‘Aesha said you were sleeping like a baby.’

  Joe glared at his sister. He felt embarrassed with his new friend sitting there watching. ‘I got woken up by the rain in the night,’ he said defensively. ‘Why is everybody looking so serious?’

  ‘We’ve had word from the wardens that someone might have gone blast fishing in the night,’ Angela told him. ‘Carl’s going to investigate, while Rey goes with your father so that he can take the photos he needs for his magazine.’

  ‘Can I go too?’ Joe asked eagerly.

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Peter. ‘We’re going to be diving today. It’s time to get on with my assignment.’

  ‘You can come with me,’ said Dario. ‘I show you other parts of the island – if it’s OK?’ He looked at Binti for approval.

  ‘That’s a great idea, isn’t it, Joe? Aesha and I were thinking we might have another lazy day on the beach, so that would be perfect.’

  Joe hesitated for a moment, unsure about spending the day away from his family, but quickly decided that it would be much more fun than sitting on the beach.

  ‘How would you like to measure some of the mangrove trunks while you’re at it?’ Angela suggested. ‘We need to start a new survey, so you could bring us our first results.’

  Joe was doubtful at the prospect. Measuring mangrove trunks wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but Dario nodded enthusiastically and took charge of the tape measures and data sheets with great eagerness.

  Chapter 12

  Joe soon relaxed in Dario’s company. There were so many things he wanted to ask him, and his new friend was happy to talk about his life on the island and his ambitions for the future. First of all he took Joe to his home to meet his mother and little brother. Joe was shocked by how tiny it was inside and couldn’t imagine how they managed without electricity and running water. Dario’s brother, who was only three, stared at Joe in wonderment, while his mother expressed her delight at having an English boy in her house.

  ‘You take food with you. Boys always hungry, I think,’ she said, giving Dario some salted eggs, raisins and rice cakes to put in his rucksack. ‘For merienda.’

  ‘In English it is snack,’ Dario explained.

  ‘You speak good English,’ said Joe.

  ‘Our second language.’ Dario grinned. ‘You have second language?’

  Joe pulled a face. ‘I learn Fr
ench in school, but I’m not very good at it. Mum’s from Tanzania and can speak Swahili, but I only know a few words.’

  They set off along a track towards the centre of the village, but then turned on to a paved path that took them through the village and ran parallel to the seashore. They passed the church that Joe had seen highlighted on the map and a short distance further on came to the school where Dario was a pupil.

  ‘When Father was a fisherman and there was not enough fish we did not go to school because he did not have the money. Now he makes money from farming chickens and seaweed, and my mother, she sells bags and I can go to school and I’m happy.’ Joe could see that Dario was proud to go to school.

  ‘What do you want to be when you’re older?’ he asked.

  ‘I will be a biologist,’ Dario said with great certainty. ‘And you?’

  ‘A photographer, or a vet,’ Joe replied. It prompted him to take out his camera and direct his friend to pose in front of the school. Dario obliged, but then demanded that Joe have his photograph taken as well.

  ‘You pretend to be Filipino schoolboy,’ he said, grinning.

  They continued on their way, Joe stopping every so often to photograph snuffling pigs, squawking chickens and brightly coloured orchids. Dario begged Joe to take a photograph of him kneeling down next to one of the pigs, and they hooted with laughter when the owner came out and offered them a bowlful of slops. The sun was shining brightly as they left the village behind and headed for the countryside, still walking parallel to the seashore.

  ‘Rain come later,’ Dario told Joe, squinting up at the sky. ‘Maybe big rain.’

  Joe thought he would welcome the rain because it was threatening to be a sizzling hot day and he was already sweating profusely. He was looking forward to jumping in the water when they dropped down to the sea. On the way they stopped under the shade of a palm tree to eat the mangoes Binti had packed for them. Joe felt he could quite easily lie back and fall asleep, and was about to make himself comfortable when they heard the drone of an approaching motorbike. They gazed along the path as it drew closer. The motorbike was ridden by two men, who stared straight ahead as they sped past the boys. Joe realised with a jolt that they were the men from the basketball court. He said so to Dario, but again his friend didn’t seem interested, much to Joe’s disappointment.

  When they finished their snack they carried on along the path. Joe wondered how much further they had to walk before they reached the mangroves. He was enjoying himself, but he was tiring quickly in the heat and his flip-flops were beginning to rub blisters between his toes. At last, Dario turned down a track that zigzagged through low-growing bushes in the general direction of the sea.

  ‘Villagers replant big lot of trees in this place,’ he told Joe. ‘One time no trees are left because people use to make houses. Ma’am Angela, she helps people see that no trees is not good because land is washed away without them. We had much fun to plant the mangroves again. Lots of children helped.’

  Joe nodded and thought he would have enjoyed helping. At least he was able to do his bit now by measuring the trees to see how much they had grown. He wondered whether he would have felt the same if someone had asked him to measure a few trees in England. Probably not. He grinned to himself. But this is different.

  The vegetation around them began to change and muddy water seeped over the sides of Joe’s flip-flops. The boys were greeted by a cacophony of birdsong. Joe pulled his camera out again and peered up through the treetops. He was hoping he might capture a fruit bat on film, but even the few sightings he made of birds were too brief for him to be able to zero in on them.

  ‘The birds do not want to have a photo.’ Dario laughed. ‘They are shy!’

  They reached the water’s edge. Dario hung his rucksack on the branch of a tree and stripped down to his swimming shorts. Joe wasn’t sure what to do with his camera, though. He wanted to keep hold of it in the event that there was something worth photographing, but that was impractical. Reluctantly, he hung it on another branch, before taking off his T-shirt and swapping his flip-flops for a pair of protective plastic sandals, in case there was anything nasty lurking on the seabed.

  ‘Swim first, work after,’ Dario said, smiling. ‘Be careful where you are putting your feet.’

  Joe gingerly tiptoed into the water. It became clearer and clearer the further away they moved from land, and he was intrigued to see the long, tangled roots of the trees stretching downwards into the muddy seabed, almost like an upside-down forest. Colourful sponges and anemones had attached themselves to the roots, while tiny crabs scuttled up and down and shoals of small fish flitted among them, all feeding on the organisms that had their homes there.

  ‘Some of the roots are huge!’ he called out to Dario.

  ‘Old trees,’ replied Dario, who was floating on his back. ‘Some not cut down before.’

  Joe turned over on to his back as well, flapping his feet to push himself away from the mangroves, enjoying the coolness of the water. Although the sun was beating down, black clouds were gathering on the horizon.

  Chapter 13

  After a while, Joe and Dario returned to the shore, tucked into their salted eggs, rice cakes and dried mango, then set about measuring the mangrove trunks. They stood shoulder deep in the water and each took one end of the tape measure, manoeuvring themselves round the trunks until they had an accurate record of their girths. Dario had been involved in previous surveys and knew exactly what to do. Occasionally, in order to circumnavigate a trunk, he lowered his snorkel mask over his face and disappeared below the surface of the water, re-emerging with a whoop on the far side. Joe wished he had brought his own snorkel with him, especially when Dario brought up first a prawn and then a huge starfish he had discovered.

  ‘They are happy here,’ Dario said, grinning. ‘Mangrove is nursery for them.’

  The sky was growing blacker all the time as they continued their work. Joe thought it wouldn’t make much difference to them if it rained, but he was tiring from the effort of pushing through the water and holding up the tape measure, and it was becoming too dark to see what they were doing. At last, as the first drops of rain began to fall, Dario decided they should go back.

  ‘Rain might be very big,’ he said, and began to scramble on to the shore.

  Just then there was a loud whoosh from somewhere not too far away. The sea began to eddy and churn. Joe tried to grapple his way on to firm ground, but a huge wave rolled towards him, washing over his shoulders and tugging at his legs. He found himself being sucked down to the seabed. He kicked and battled, gasping for breath. He felt himself being lifted again. Something caught one of his hands. He fought against it until he realised that it was Dario trying to haul him out.

  ‘Hold on, Joe,’ his friend called.

  ‘Help me,’ Joe cried when the sea dragged at him anew.

  He gripped Dario’s hand with all his might, terrified at one point that the boy would lose his balance and fall in with him. But as he held on, the turbulence gradually died down and he was finally able to crawl ashore. He rolled on to his back, exhausted. Only then did he notice the torrential rain, which drummed at his face and body.

  ‘You OK?’ Dario asked, squatting next to him.

  Joe nodded. He was beginning to shake as it dawned on him that he’d had a very lucky escape. ‘You saved my life,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’ His voice sounded strangely disconnected and the words wholly inadequate. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Dynamite. Someone use dynamite to fish. I go find who. You wait for me.’

  Joe took in what Dario said and panicked. ‘I’m coming with you,’ he asserted, struggling to his feet. ‘I’m not staying here on my own.’

  ‘There might be danger,’ Dario cautioned. ‘Those people not like to be caught.’

  Joe hesitated, wondering what his friend intended to do, and then it came to him like a flash. ‘It was those two men! I bet it was those two men!’

  ‘What men?’


  ‘The men on the motorbike. The same men we saw at the basketball court.’

  All of a sudden, Joe was more excited than fearful. He held the clue as to who was carrying out the blast fishing, he was sure of it. If only he could remember exactly what they looked like.

  ‘We don’t know who it was,’ said Dario, ‘but we will see, I hope.’

  He headed off through the trees, following the line of the shore. Joe ran after him.

  ‘Go quietly,’ Dario warned him.

  It was raining so hard that the ground was beginning to flood. Muddy water splashed up Joe’s legs and rain streamed down his face. He had no idea what Dario had in mind, but in his own head he wanted to confront the men and make them aware of the damage they were doing. You’re selfish and irresponsible, and you’re destroying the planet, he imagined himself saying to them. Don’t you care? They might be dangerous, though, as Dario had said. Perhaps his friend just wanted to have a look at them so that he would be able to recognise them if he saw them again and then report them to the authorities. The best thing would be to take a photograph of them secretly and hand it to the police.

  A photograph. My camera! In horror, Joe remembered he had left his camera hanging on the branch of a tree, out of its case. It’ll be wrecked!

  ‘My camera!’ he called out to Dario, but the older boy was too far ahead. Joe stopped in his tracks, desperate to go back and get it. At the same time, he didn’t want to lose sight of Dario and miss out on what might happen with the men. Besides, Dario might need him.

  ‘I see their boat,’ Dario shouted back at him. ‘They are fishing still.’

  ‘I’m going to get my camera,’ Joe cried determinedly. ‘I might be able to photograph them.’

  If Dario responded, Joe didn’t hear him. He spun round and began to retrace the route they had taken, pushing tree branches aside and focusing solely on the odd footprint that confirmed he was going in the right direction. Don’t get lost! he kept saying to himself. The rain was bouncing off the ground in front of him, gradually wiping out the footprints and blurring his vision. Don’t get lost!