The Reef (32 page)

‘Ah, Santiago,’ Forb said. ‘There you are. I’ve had my chat with the ichthyocentaurs.’ Santiago pushed his hat back and struggled to sit up. ‘Splendid. And?’

‘They’ve agreed to it.’

‘Splendid, my good man. Splendid. This is the only way.’

‘I suspect you’re right, but I don’t want to see any more die.’

‘Not going to happen, doctor. Not going to happen. Mark my words.’ ‘You’ve several muskets and pistols?’ ‘Indeed,’ Santiago said. ‘I think we’ll need a couple of small boats.
If
these things come from the water, as you say.’

‘Yes, that’s not a problem.’

Santiago met the doctor’s gaze. ‘They’ll be quite all right, y’know.’

‘I hope so. I’ve seen so many of them die.
If
the death rate continues as it has, they’ll be wiped out within a year. I don’t want to see that happening.’

‘Of course, it would be a great shame,’ Santiago said. ‘You care

for them a lot, don’t you?’

‘Yes, very much,’ Forb said. ‘They know so much about plant use it’s amazing. I often thought of returning to the mainland and showing my findings. Think of the lives I could save. But then, I can’t ever leave here. I couldn’t take my wife and son to Escha.’

‘No, they’d hate it. I know I do, especially after seeing this place.’

‘Really?’ Forb said.

‘Yes. Well, I never quite liked that place truly. Well, not Escha. You get some nicer spots out further across Has-jahn, but of course all the work is on the west coast. One always hopes that government and society change, but people are too greedy. Anyway, people never care about politics unless they themselves are effected. It makes being a scientist a difficult job, at least. Especially studying the natural world.’

‘I overheard that you were engaged in politics, once?’

Santiago smiled, reclining further. ‘I did. Once. That was a long time ago now. Before I got into this business. But I got forced out of it. Don’t much like to go into it.’

Forb nodded. ‘Manolin tells me that you’ve been to one or two of the other islands in the chain before?’ ‘Indeed. I don’t know why I never came here in all honesty. This is one of the smallest in the chain, isn’t it?’

Forb found something disagreeable in Santiago’s tone. Whether or not the old man told a precise truth was debatable. ‘I think it’s in the middle actually. But I don’t go to the others.’

‘No,’ Santiago said. Well I went there not all that long ago as a matter of fact. Acted as a guide-you know, the usual malarkey to try and make ends meet. I had three vessels to pay for. They were rather pleasant places, although a little on the barren side. There’s not much there. The group didn’t want to see this far south.’

Santiago tilted his head to the sea then back towards Forb. They were silent for a moment. Neither of them felt it worth saying anything, which surprised Forb, being men of a shared interest. Forb didn’t dislike Santiago at all, but the old man wasn’t as engaging as Manolin on a personal level. Santiago didn’t want to connect with the island in the same way Manolin did.

‘Well,’ Forb said, ‘I guess I’ll leave you to it. I’ll get everything ready for sunset, if that’s okay? ‘Splendid. That’s a good time to start.’ Santiago sat up. ‘In fact, I’ll row to my ship and collect our weaponry now.’ ‘Good.’ Forb turned, walked away. He looked over his shoulder to see Santiago edging his way cautiously off of the hammock.

The air was pungent, especially further out in the shallow water. Manolin breathed it in deeply, his hands on his hips, his white shirt rippling in the gentle winds that were more refreshing than being on land. He turned to see the ichthyocentaur that was sitting back on the beach. Jefry was standing behind him, a musket in his arms, a long shadow across the sand. Manolin waved, but he did not reply.

The water was gentle, hardly making a noise against the reef behind them. Santiago, who was sitting hunched over in the boat next to Manolin, studied his pistols. He drew one up, rubbed the smooth barrel, glancing up from time to time as gulls arced to the north. Manolin turned to the other boat, where Becq and Yana were sitting, with the doctor beside them. They were fifty or so feet away, sitting in a line facing him. He gave a wave. Only Forb waved back.

‘San?’ Manolin said.

‘Yep,’ Santiago said, looking up from his pistol.

‘Are you sure Yana’s all right? She hasn’t really spoken to me properly for days.’ ‘She’s a lot on her mind.’ He looked back down. ‘Such as?’ ‘She’ll tell you when she’s ready. Complex beast, a woman.’ There was a smirk on the old man’s face.

Manolin shrugged. The forest had darkened in the poorer light. In a purple sky, the moon was a third full, low and large against the volcano. Fires were being lit on the beach. He said, ‘You think this’lI work then?’

‘Indeed,’ Santiago said. ‘Not a lot else we can do.’

‘True. Where are Calyban and Soul?’

‘Should be on the beach,’ Santiago said. ‘I think they’re getting a small boat too, but I haven’t seen it yet.’ ‘Found out why they’re here?’ Flicking the mechanism on a pistol, the barrel aimed to the water,

Santiago said, ‘Hmm. Not really. I
think
it has something to do with disappearing ships.’

‘Disappearing ships?’

‘Yes. Rather a lot of trading ships have gone down near this island in the past. I’ve heard tales all my life about it. Great exploratory ships being sunk. Fishing schooners never being seen again. I was, in all honesty, surprised we made it here without any event.’

‘You think that Gio sent them to hitch a ride with us then, not just to keep an eye on us?’ ‘Not entirely. I’m certain he wants an eye kept on us, for sure. People don’t like not knowing things.’

Manolin nodded, his hands still firm on his hips.

Santiago glanced up. ‘Sit down-you’re making the place look untidy. And it’s going to be a long night, I reckon. We may not even see anything.’

Manolin sat with a sigh, rocking the small fishing boat. Santiago raised an eyebrow.

The sound of the tide became monotonous. Manolin lay on his. The night was peaceful, the sky still fresh from the storm a few days ago. The stars were clear, numerous. His wonder had still not ebbed since he had been on the island. It wasn’t long until he wished it was Myranda on the boat, and not Santiago. She would have made the wait more bearable.

Myranda. The only woman to have taken his mind off of his exwife. He smiled at the thought that she was not considered a beauty of the island, and he did not want her to be either. She was perfect as she was: her eyes, bright against her browned skin. Those slow and precise walks along the beach.

But Manolin could not, would not. He had an unparalleled respect for the doctor. There was something almost mystical about the bald man, a quality that someone so knowledgeable seems to possess. Between the two was a bond, a sharing of values. Manolin was conscious that his fantasies would not ruin that.

He let his thoughts flow.

Manolin and Santiago were both silent, both watching the horizon, the beach, the reef. Three hours drifted by. Nothing happened. The ichthyocentaur was still sitting on the beach, Jefry still behind. On the other boat, the doctor was standing up, scanning the horizon, but his body was in a relaxed pose, one hand rubbing his bald head.
Why does he always do that?

The moon was higher. The fires of the village were bright. Manolin could smell something being cooked. Villagers went about their business. Their silhouettes and shadows moved discretely between the huts, the fire and the forest. Another half an hour and the fires were nearly out, thin trails of smoke rising in a line.

Manolin glanced back to the ichthyocentaur and it was now standing. Perfectly still, it was staring out past the reef.

Manolin nudged Santiago who turned to see it.

‘It’s standing,’ Manolin said.

Santiago was silent. He craned his neck to follow where he guessed the ichthyocentaur was staring, but the sea was calm, nothing unnatural moving on the surface. The ichthyocentaur stood there for some time. Then, it began to shuffle towards the sea. Jefry followed it to the water’s edge before the creature moved into the shallow water.

‘What’s it doing?’ Manolin asked.

Santiago didn’t reply.

The wind was picking up. The ichthyocentaur waded further out to sea, but was only up to its knees. Its arms were motionless. Jefry had his musket in his hands. Manolin could see him walking back and forth, his eyes fixed on the ichthyocentaur, which was nearing the two fishing boats.

There was a distinct sound. It was like a breeze racing along the beachhead, but silent, almost out of range for them.

‘It’s definitely related to the sound,’ Manolin said.

Santiago nodded, pointing at the ichthyocentaurs’ village, some distance away by the volcano. Fires were moving. He glanced towards the reef, the direction in which the creature was headed. Manolin followed his gaze, picked up a pistol. He could see nothing except the flat coral platforms some way off.

‘Row nearer,’ Santiago said, indicating the ichthyocentaur.

Manolin placed the pistol on his lap, picked up two oars from the middle of the boat. He pulled them onto the side, began to row across to the ichthyocentaur. The creature was waist high in the water.

‘This’lI do,’ Santiago said. They were about twenty feet in away from the creature. Santiago had his musket in his hands and rested it on the side of the boat. Manolin pulled the oars in, picked up his pistol.

Manolin never realised how dark it had become now that the fires had gone and the moon had fallen behind a cloud. It forced Manolin to rely on his hearing and the sound became noticeably clearer. ‘You hear that?’

Santiago ‘Yes, indeed. It’s clearly the sound bringing it out. Keep your eyes fixed.’

Manolin, watching only the ichthyocentaur, could hear the clinking of metal as Santiago loaded his musket. His heart began to beat a little faster, and his hands were clammy against the pistol. The creature seemed to be in a trance, not aware of its surroundings. It was struggling against the tide.

Santiago stood up, lifted his musket, placing the butt against his shoulder.

‘What’ve you seen?’ Manolin asked, standing up and rocking the boat.

‘Movement,’ he said. ‘Keep your eye on the creature.’

Manolin turned to see that the ichthyocentaur was standing still, the water lapping at its chest. Forb’s boat was coming along the other side, the women with pistols in their hands.

The moon came from the behind the clouds, and illuminated the scene. Barrels of the pistols and muskets shone. On the water where Santiago was aiming, there were distinct shadows. Something was breaking the surface of the water.

The current carried their boat further out, nearing the reef. Three distinct lumps had surfaced, which Manolin took to be seaweed, drifting forwards. His heart raced and he held the pistol at arms length. Santiago was calm and methodical, the weapon natural in his grip, and with the tip of it he followed the movements.

‘When should we shoot?’ Manolin asked.

‘Not until it’s right there, on him, and we can see clearly what the hell it is. I want to see what it is and I want to know where it comes from.’

Manolin’s throat felt dry as he passed the pistol from hand to hand in anticipation. Almost immediately he heard a melody, faint and almost untraceable.

‘Get ready to row, Manolin.’

‘Why?’

‘Because if we shoot, it’s going to swim very far, very fast, so I want to know where it goes.’

Manolin picked the oars up again, set them ready to row. Three heads appeared clearer, near the ichthyocentaur. Still there was the soft melody. The heads surrounded the creature. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The heads had long hair and delicate faces: they were women. Three women. The females circled the creature, which was standing motionless, either waiting or showing no control of its own. The women closed in, and Manolin could see their breasts, full and round, rise above the water. In their hands were blades.

A shot punctured the sky.

The sound echoed around the bay and there was a piercing scream as one of the women fell down. The other two stopped, turned. Santiago fired, a tiny explosion of water appearing to the right of the remaining two.

‘Row to the reef,’ Santiago said. ‘Quick.’

Manolin began hauling the boat through the water, not knowing where he was going, and he could see the two women’s heads cutting cleanly towards the reef. He started off ahead, but they were parallel then edging ahead. He lurched forwards, pulled the oars backwards, propelling the tiny boat. He was level with the reef, careful to steer the boat away from the coral platforms. Santiago fired, and a spark shot off the rock. He loaded again and fired across, following the heads all the time.

Manolin had passed the first ridge of the reef, continued, falling behind, sweat pouring off his head. Then the heads sank. Santiago fired once again into the water where he last saw them.

‘Fuck,’ Santiago said. ‘Fuck it, we’ve missed them.’

Manolin put the oars down, collapsed backwards, his chest heaving.