The Reef (43 page)

You can either be bleak about it, or get up of your arse and just accept that that is what life is about-crack on with living!

Manolin is aware of this, and that is why I’m jealous. He always used to go on about science and how he was part of a new, modern thinking. It requires a little explanation, and here it is in its simplest form.

There are two ways of looking at the world. One is to break everything down and study its component parts. Break life down into the small things, study it and find answers. That’s very much Santiago’s way of thinking. Manolin is a fan of the new paradigm. Basically, it’s all well and good breaking things down, but you can’t really get a look at the world unless you look at things from a system level, from the highest perspective. One can see the emergent properties something has, which is greater than the sum of its individual parts. Breaking things up doesn’t tell you much about the whole. Santiago would spend his time studying a particular species, whilst Manolin would spend his time looking how that species fits in to the wider community. That’s all very basic, of course; and I think they’ve worked well as a team so far. It was Manolin that convinced Santiago to have complete biological, geological, geographical surveys, because one cannot understand a system by its parts.

Manolin’s science is good. It’s different and exciting. It seems to encompass life. That lad will really go places. His way of thinking does not just apply to study, but his whole life. He’s always looking at the bigger picture, whereas Santiago, Mr Rational, is always breaking things down for logic, logic, logic. Just look at him taking Yana’s urine sample, I mean really. That was quite appalling, but only a true classical thinker such as Santiago DeBrelt could’ve had such a clear mind whilst doing that. Santiago’s problem has always been that he’s not thinking of the bigger picture.

I worry about Manny at times. He thinks too much. There’s no point, believe me-and I really do know. He’s always sitting on the beach looking out to sea (he does do it far too much). Thinking gets you nowhere. If you think, you’re dead.

Get out there, go and do things, don’t wait, seize every damn opportunity, that’s what I say. I want to shake him and make him do this!

Do not fall on one’s knees and look upwards for any answers. There are none to be given. By all means have some faith, if it helps, but everything that is needed is down there. And even afterwards, it’s not all that bad.

Twenty-Three

Manolin and Myranda sat next to the doctor’s bed. He had lain there, unconscious, for nineteen days now. By the window, an ichthyocentaur was holding a cup of water that had been mixed with a herb so that it was tinted red. The creature held the cup over Forb’s mouth, its hand as steady as coral, then dripped the mixture inside. Manolin had long ago realised that whatever the ichthyocentaur were doing, it was keeping Forb alive.

Sunlight, came through the shutters, casting beams over Forb’s resting body.

Manolin thought that he would’ve spent much of his time reassuring Myranda about the doctor’s health, the last couple of weeks, but she seemed almost unaffected by her husband’s accident. She was calm, rational. Even Lewys, who was often out playing with Yana and Jefry, seemed fine. The only possible reason, Manolin suspected, was that they must have been aware of the doctor’s disease, that they were prepared for his death.

As the ichthyocentaur left the hut, it held the door open for Santiago, who bounded into the hut. ‘Ah, how’s the patient?’ The old man rubbed his face free of sweat with a handkerchief.

‘Still the same,’ Manolin said.

Santiago nodded, looking at the doctor. ‘He’ll be up soon. Good breeding, that one. He’s made of tough stuff.

Manolin turned to Santiago and said, ‘How’s the profiling going?’

‘Oh, fine, fine,’ Santiago said. ‘It’s not an easy job, with the sheer diversity of it all, but we’re getting a good idea. I suspect most of the species are endemic to this place.’

‘Wouldn’t surprise me,’ Manolin said.

‘You know, we’ll get so much information to sell back at home. So many sketches, maps, diagrams-so many samples to show off. The ship’s getting quite full of arthropod samples. I really think we can make a lot of money from the maps alone.’

They stepped out of the hut, into fresh air, then walked along the beach. Strong winds took away any humidity. It was a day in which work could be done. Santiago turned to Manolin. ‘You going to help us at all?’

‘What d’you mean?’ Manolin said.

‘You’ve been with Forb for most of the last few days. Bit of help wouldn’t go amiss.’ ‘Someone’s got to keep an eye on him,’ Manolin said. ‘Why you? There’re plenty of others.’ ‘Just think I ought to, that’s all. When he wakes up he’s going to want to know what’s been going on. I’ll give him the gossip when he’s ready.’

‘He’ll need to know about Calyban and Soul,’ Santiago said.

‘I think he’ll find out. He’ll be more concerned about whether the navy will come.’

‘Him and me both.’

‘Why’re you so bothered?’ Manolin said.

‘Look, no one’s going to think that Soul shot Calyban and tried to escape. They’ll think I killed him-perish the thought. If that’s the case, then what are the chances of us getting back to Escha and publishing our findings?’

‘I guess so,’ Manolin said, scrutinising Santiago’s words for any hint of a clue as to why he had been acting so suspiciously recently. It was a daily ritual that Santiago would enquire about the doctor’s health, return to the agent’s hut to examine the remains of their relic device, then stare longingly out to sea, regarding the horizon for any hint of a naval vessel.

‘I’ve half an inkling, and deep down it hurts, that we’re not going to be able to show any of our findings publicly. I suspect it’ll all be done behind closed doors, and only to those in the know.’

‘That’s really bad,’ Manolin said.

‘You’re telling me,’ Santiago said. ‘I was rather hoping to finally make myself a celebrity figure ... ‘

‘How’re the others?’ Manolin said. ‘I haven’t really spoken to them for a while.’

‘No. No you haven’t,’ Santiago said. Then, ‘They’re okay, I guess. Soldiering on.’

‘Becq?’

‘Yes, she’s a trooper. Got some cracking sketches. A good eye for detail, that one. Keeps asking after you. Spends a lot of time on her doll.’

‘Doll?’ Manolin said.

‘Yes. You know what girls are like,’ Santiago said, waving his hand dismissively .

Manolin shook his head at Santiago’s belittling attitudes towards women. ‘Yana and Jefry? I see them running around with Lewys and some of the other children from time to time.’

‘Yes. They’re ... they’re coping well.’

Manolin looked at Santiago’s eyes, trying to read them.

‘If coping is the word,’ Santiago said. ‘They’d a lot on their plate. Still have. Complex thing, life.’

‘What d’you mean?’ Manolin said. ‘I know they had a big argument a while back. I wanted to help, but it seemed a bit too much of an issue.’

Santiago looked Manolin up and down. ‘I don’t suppose its worth while going into it. A lot has happened to that couple and they’ve somehow gotten over it. They’re getting along fine now, so let’s leave them be. I don’t think that
you
would be of any help, lad.’

‘Why d’you always have to patronise me?’

‘I’m not,’ Santiago said.

‘Yes. You are,’ Manolin said. ‘It’s not like I don’t know people, or don’t understand them. I’ve changed since I’ve been here. I can handle things. Make decisions. Help people when they need it. You’ve a nasty habit of belittling me.’

‘I don’t. But remember, I’ve spent much of my life teaching you things, and helping you out. You remember who got you where you are, okay?’

‘I wish you wouldn’t keep coming back with that. It’s all you say when I talk you into a corner.’

‘It’s true though,’ Santiago said. ‘You’d do well to remember that.’

Manolin sighed. Sometimes, he thought, people don’t let go of certain notions. It was pointless talking to Santiago anymore. He turned to the sea, had to shade his eyes because of the glare. ‘I’ll go back to the ichthyocentaurs and study there. I made a start, and I have conversed with the ones that have come to visit the doctor. I’ve come to know one or two of the individuals pretty well. I’d like to get to know them more. I’ve picked up quite a lot of their sign language and I think I’m pretty welcome there.’

‘All right,’ Santiago said. ‘I must say though, I never like my crew fraternising with the natives.’

‘It’s study,’ Manolin said.

‘Indeed.’

Manolin was silent for a moment, listening to the thriving coast, then said, ‘San, do you actually think that the device Calyban and Soul were using actually worked.’

Santiago placed both hands on his hips, shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea. Really. We’ll know in due course. I’ll see you later. Just keep me in the frame with what you’re doing. I take it you’ve been making notes.’ ‘Yes, don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of information you can sell back on the mainland.’

Manolin sat down on the sand, watched Santiago walk off. Then he watched the sea, was hypnotised by the surf. There were fishing boats coming in from out of the sun. He stood up, walked up the beach until he was in the shade, then sat down under a palm. It was cooler and he closed his eyes. The forest behind him was loud with the throng of insects, birds, mammals-an equal to the noise of any city, although more pleasant to his ears. He could feel the sweat on his legs so rolled his breeches up. Then, once the wind had cool him, he fell asleep against the tree.

He woke up an hour later, when Myranda ran up to him.

‘Manolin, he’s awake,’ she said.

‘Yes, just about,’ Manolin said. ‘I fell asleep for a bit. Is it past lunch?’ ‘No, Manolin-Forb is awake.’ ‘Forb?, Manolin jolted up, then stood up, brushed the sand off.

‘Come on, show me.’

He followed Myranda along the beach, into the hut. Forb turned his head towards them as they entered. The doctor’s eyes were narrowed and he closed them occasionally, turning his head so that he was facing up.

Manolin could see the scar on the back of his head. ‘Forb, it’s us. Manolin and Myranda. Can you hear us?’

Forb opened his eyes, sighed, nodded.

‘Good. Good. Do you know what happened?’

Forb opened his mouth and a breath came out. Then, he whispered, ‘Hit the reef.’ ‘Yes, yes you did. You ran into a boat and hurt yourself. Forb can you hear me clearly?’

Forb nodded, closing his eyes.

‘Good. I’ll fetch one of the ichthyocentaurs.’ Manolin turned to Myranda. ‘Will you be all right looking after him for the moment?’ ‘Yes, of course.’ Manolin smiled. ‘I think it’d be nicer for him to wake up and look at you rather than me.’

With kind eyes she turned to Forb.

Manolin returned with two ichthyocentaurs who were both carrying bundles of plants. They set to work on the doctor, fixed him herbal infusions, solid plant matter. Their methods were incredibly efficient. Within hours he was alert enough to converse. Lewys came in to visit, which brought a smile to Forb’s face, and for the evening, Manolin left the family to be alone. He asked the villagers, who were keen to visit the doctor, to respect that thought for the evening.

Manolin, too, wanted to be alone. He spent the evening following the ichthyocentaur up to their village. He wanted to know them and understand their methods. He wanted to know how they knew so much about the medicinal values of plants. What he had seen was incredible. How something could be so effective, so quickly, was astonishing.

For hours he ate and talked amongst them in basic sign language. They asked him if the killings would stop. He said he didn’t know. He told them he would try and protect them as best as he could. He thought of the half breeds working under the sea.

Manolin played with the young, listened to the elders, walked with the women. He observed their strange anatomy. Tonight, he wanted to forget about Santiago and the others. It had become a mystery why he was on the island, why he was even studying in the first place. The ichthyocentaurs brought it all back for him: the fact that he wanted to work with nature. That’s why he spent the night there.

Although unlike humans and rumel, they seemed to have social codes, and a vague, basic economy. He was hypnotised by the strange clicking sounds that they used to talk to each other with. Manolin smiled when he saw the ichthyocentaurs holding birds on their shoulders, was surprised that they didn’t flyaway. Between the animals there was a respect that he couldn’t understand. He frowned when he saw a female taking two males somewhere into the forest, then remembered his conversation with Forb about the liberalness of the creatures. Why did he feel the need to really come here? Was it because of their connection with the natural world? Or was it because of the fact he wanted more distance from DeBrelt’s crew. They had become symbols of civilisation, of its problems.

Manolin needed the time to meditate a little. He thought about what Yana and Jefry were doing that day in the forest, wondered what Jefry had done for them to be back together. Did the rumel really knew about him having slept with Yana? That would have explained his anger weeks ago.