its moorings. He looked like he hadn’t slept and he had the powerful scent of alcohol on him. The skipper was up the bridge ladder even before Michael had climbed aboard.
Paul knew there were problems with Jake. Everyone in the family did. There wasn’t much detail, or not that Paul knew anyway. But for as long he could remember he had been aware of the trouble on his mother’s side of the family. He had sensed it, as kids do, noticing the adults exchanging looks whenever Jake’s name came up, or the way his parents never really spokeabout him when they thought the children were in earshot. Paul had once overheard his father mention that Jake had been to jail. His parents had talked of it while they worked in the front yard, unaware that he could hear them as he lay on his bed. Paul had shared the news with Elliot, who seemed unimpressed and didn’t want to participate in guessing what crime their older cousin had committed. Paul had always imagined some kind of robbery. Pictured his cousin’s stormy glare through the eyes of a balaclava. Maybe Elliot had known what Jake did. If so, he never let on.
The swell had dropped from the previous days but a gusting wind still blew over the sea from the west. The water was a cloudy green, the surface speckled with kelp and cuttlebone and flecks of foam from shattered pot floats and other things that the storm had washed in and swept out from the beaches. They pulled the pots on the inside reefs, two and three miles out, always within sight of land. The sun was warm on Paul’s skin and the swells that surged and foamed on the shoals no longer held the same threat, but there was still that dullness in his ears and his stomach still wrenched with each tilt of the deck. By mid-morning he was dizzy from purging.
You shall disappear if you keep that up, Michael said as he returned from the back of the boat to the cabin. You will look like a supermodel. Just teeth and knees, that is all.
Paul attempted a smile.
Michael watched him, as if waiting for him to speak, before returning his eyes to the sea.
You don’t get seasick? Paul said.
Not me, Michael said, looking back at him. My mother, she was in the circus. She used to do trapeze when she was pregnant with me. This big tummy, flipping through the air.
Really?
Michael laughed.
Paul watched the older boy’s face, trying to read him.
If you are hungry, I have some food. My girl Shivani made me lunch. You are welcome to it.
I don’t think I could keep anything down.
Michael scoffed. With the lunches my Shivani makes that is the problem. Are you staying at the backpackers still?
Paul nodded.
Michael groaned. Hot girls, yeah? The German sighed at the thought, almost mournful. Paul didn’t know how to respond.
I thought you would be staying with the skipper, Michael said.
What? Jake?
He and Ruth, they are not family?
They are, Paul said. But I don’t really know them. They’ve always lived up here. We never really had much to do with them. And I guess all that stuff with Jake . . .
He left the words suspended and glanced at Michael. If he knew any more than Paul did, he hid it well. The smile on his face was as inscrutable as ever.
Ruth hates me, anyway, Paul said.
Michael leant down to the deck and picked up one of the crystal crabs he’d earlier removed from a pot, the animal pale from its life at depth without sunlight, twice as big as a lobster. The German held it by its rear legs, away from its pincers, and dropped it overboard.
So, how long you been doing this? Paul asked.
Two months. I found the job in September. Jake needed a deckhand. You know.
Paul nodded.
I was on the east coast before this. I have not seen Stuttgart in four years, Michael said with a proud smile.
Four years is a long time, Paul replied.
It is a long time if you are not moving, if you are just still, in the one place. I have been elsewhere too, not just here. Did the traveller thing, you know.
You like it here?
Working on a
Paul knew there were problems with Jake. Everyone in the family did. There wasn’t much detail, or not that Paul knew anyway. But for as long he could remember he had been aware of the trouble on his mother’s side of the family. He had sensed it, as kids do, noticing the adults exchanging looks whenever Jake’s name came up, or the way his parents never really spokeabout him when they thought the children were in earshot. Paul had once overheard his father mention that Jake had been to jail. His parents had talked of it while they worked in the front yard, unaware that he could hear them as he lay on his bed. Paul had shared the news with Elliot, who seemed unimpressed and didn’t want to participate in guessing what crime their older cousin had committed. Paul had always imagined some kind of robbery. Pictured his cousin’s stormy glare through the eyes of a balaclava. Maybe Elliot had known what Jake did. If so, he never let on.
The swell had dropped from the previous days but a gusting wind still blew over the sea from the west. The water was a cloudy green, the surface speckled with kelp and cuttlebone and flecks of foam from shattered pot floats and other things that the storm had washed in and swept out from the beaches. They pulled the pots on the inside reefs, two and three miles out, always within sight of land. The sun was warm on Paul’s skin and the swells that surged and foamed on the shoals no longer held the same threat, but there was still that dullness in his ears and his stomach still wrenched with each tilt of the deck. By mid-morning he was dizzy from purging.
You shall disappear if you keep that up, Michael said as he returned from the back of the boat to the cabin. You will look like a supermodel. Just teeth and knees, that is all.
Paul attempted a smile.
Michael watched him, as if waiting for him to speak, before returning his eyes to the sea.
You don’t get seasick? Paul said.
Not me, Michael said, looking back at him. My mother, she was in the circus. She used to do trapeze when she was pregnant with me. This big tummy, flipping through the air.
Really?
Michael laughed.
Paul watched the older boy’s face, trying to read him.
If you are hungry, I have some food. My girl Shivani made me lunch. You are welcome to it.
I don’t think I could keep anything down.
Michael scoffed. With the lunches my Shivani makes that is the problem. Are you staying at the backpackers still?
Paul nodded.
Michael groaned. Hot girls, yeah? The German sighed at the thought, almost mournful. Paul didn’t know how to respond.
I thought you would be staying with the skipper, Michael said.
What? Jake?
He and Ruth, they are not family?
They are, Paul said. But I don’t really know them. They’ve always lived up here. We never really had much to do with them. And I guess all that stuff with Jake . . .
He left the words suspended and glanced at Michael. If he knew any more than Paul did, he hid it well. The smile on his face was as inscrutable as ever.
Ruth hates me, anyway, Paul said.
Michael leant down to the deck and picked up one of the crystal crabs he’d earlier removed from a pot, the animal pale from its life at depth without sunlight, twice as big as a lobster. The German held it by its rear legs, away from its pincers, and dropped it overboard.
So, how long you been doing this? Paul asked.
Two months. I found the job in September. Jake needed a deckhand. You know.
Paul nodded.
I was on the east coast before this. I have not seen Stuttgart in four years, Michael said with a proud smile.
Four years is a long time, Paul replied.
It is a long time if you are not moving, if you are just still, in the one place. I have been elsewhere too, not just here. Did the traveller thing, you know.
You like it here?
Working on a
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