Forest Shadows (4 page)

Now, legs spread and gripping the rail to steady themselves against the pitch and roll of the boat, both Jim and Arnie stared out to sea. They were silent, Jim deep in thought and Arnie thinking about nothing really, just listening for any orders that could come his way.

A sideways glance in Arnie's direction made Jim smile. That morning, dressed in blue work singlet, denim shorts, work boots and no socks, Arnie, as usual, was thumbing his nose at the weather. The bitterly cold wind and the soaking sea spray didn't matter.

In contrast, Jim had dressed in full, seagoing oilskins. ‘It's comin' in rough, Arnie,' he said. ‘Sky's gettin' blacker by the minute. I reckon the weather's about to take a turn for the worse. We'd better point the old girl home soon.'

As if in agreement, a wave bigger than the others, came over the side. It swirled around their feet and ankles; then, with a rushing, sucking sound, it disappeared back into the sea.

‘Let's lift the last of the pots and head for home,' Jim said. ‘It's starting to look a bit dodgy out here.'

T
he growing anger of the waves and weather wasn't the only thing that worried Jim and Arnie. The lack of crayfish – often called lobster – was a real problem. And not only on this trip. The season so far had been disastrous, making Jim think that his decision to buy
The Shandora
had been a big mistake.

He'd bought the cray boat from Mrs Quigley, whose husband was still in jail for his bird-poaching stint a year ago. Mr Quigley had previously owned the boat and had employed Jim as its skipper during that time. Now, because of Quigley's forced absence, that arrangement had fallen through. As a result, the Quigley income had dried up and Mrs Quigley had been left with no choice but to sell the boat.

Jim, who had always wanted to own his own boat, managed to raise enough cash to buy
The Shandora
and the cray licence that went with it. He knew he was taking a risk; meeting the payments to the bank, where he'd borrowed the money, wouldn't be easy. They'd have to catch their quota of cray to make that happen.

But deep down, somewhere in his soul, a voice had told him not to let the opportunity pass. Without a job and with no other prospects of employment on the horizon, buying
The
Shandora
would solve the work problem.

For a while he thought it had, but after a promising start to the season, for some inexplicable reason the cray had grown scarce, and most of what they did catch were undersize.

Jim threw another craypot onto the growing pile of empties. ‘Another wasted trip, Arnie. It's getting to be a habit.'

Arnie frowned as he hoisted the last of the pots on board. ‘Yeah, b-boss, all too s-small. I measured them all, um, just like you told me. Th-this one hasn't got any in it either. S-sorry b-boss.' He undid the hauling rope and tossed the pot towards the pile as if it were a twig.

‘It's not your fault,' Jim reassured him, ignoring Arnie's stuttering, broken speech, an affliction thrust upon him by a brutal, belt-wielding father. ‘It's these waters; looks like they might have been overfished.'

‘Y-yeah, overfished.' Standing over six-and-a-half feet tall, Arnie, with his bulging muscles and rugby player's neck, had more than fulfilled Jim's hopes for him as a deckhand. Yet, Jim knew, he was more than that – partner and friend were more like it. Mentally, Arnie had the intellect of a child. He'd never really grown up but there was one thing he was good at; he knew how to follow orders, and once undertaken, the task, whatever it was, was always carried out to the best of his ability.

Jim had no hesitation in hiring Arnie. Bird smuggling or not, instinct had told him that he was basically a good man, that his handicaps didn't matter. Jim's gut feeling about the man had been proved right time and again. So, with the blessing of the law, who'd chosen not to prosecute him for his unwitting part in the crime, he'd taken him on, rescuing him from the corrupt ways of his brother and sister.

‘We, er, got to find some big cray s-somewhere, don't we, boss?'

‘That's right,' Jim said, making for the wheelhouse and talking over his shoulder. ‘But one thing's for sure, there ain't none around here.' A pity, he said to himself as he reached up to a shelf to grab a sea chart. The area looked good, plenty of reefs and broken bottom. Lots of seagrass as well. He spread the map out in front of him then yelled to Arnie, ‘We're gonna have to find some new grounds. And do me a favour, will you?'

‘Wh-what's that boss?' Arnie said coming into the cabin.

‘Don't call me boss. Jim'll be just fine.'

‘Um, o-okay, J-Jim.' Then, changing the subject asked, ‘Wh-where are they? The n-new grounds?'

‘South.' He stabbed at the chart. ‘Tomorrow we'll head towards Strahan. We can set some pots outside the Strahan harbour. From there we'll head further south towards Port Davey. We'll drop the rest of them there. With a bit of luck we'll do okay. We'll come back Monday morning and sell our catch at the processors in Strahan.' He slapped Arnie on the back. ‘So, let's haul anchor and get out of here.' He looked to the sky and the sea again just as another large wave smashed into side of
The Shandora.
He turned the key to start the inboard motor.

Arnie frowned as he tapped Jim on the shoulder. ‘Wh-what about Snook and Jars? They'll be l-left on their own if we go away d-down there.'

‘Don't worry. I've already thought about that,' he said as he turned the boat for home. ‘We'll take 'em with us.'

Arnie broke out into a broad grin. ‘That's good J-Jim. They'll like that.'

They knifed homeward through the waves. Jim fell silent. A sudden uneasiness had come over him. He couldn't figure out why. There was nothing to worry about, was there? They were only going to try some new fishing grounds – to try and change their luck. He grimaced. ‘It had better change,' he found himself saying aloud. ‘It's our last chance.'

The two-way radio squawked. Who the devil could that be? he wondered. He'd covered all bases with the coast guard. So who could it be?

He handed the wheel to Arnie, snatched the speaker from its mount on the wall, and listened.

J
ars and Snook both turned their heads at the sound of muffled voices coming from outside the front door.

‘That'll be your dad and Arnie,' Jars said to Snook. ‘Good timing too; dinner's just on ready.'

Jim, followed by Arnie, walked into the kitchen. The smell of cooking hung in the air. He smiled. The kids had been busy.

Shadow, who was still lying under the table, wagged his tail and rose to say hello. Snook, who was hurriedly setting the table, looked up. ‘How was the fishin', Dad?'

‘Don't ask.'

‘N-no, Snook, um, d-don't ask,' Arnie said, agreeing with his boss.

‘You'd better set an extra place,' Snook's dad said crossing over to the stove. He lifted the lid on a pot and sniffed. ‘Just checking that we've got enough for our guest.' He replaced the lid and pointed towards the kitchen doorway.

Jars and Snook craned their necks to see around Arnie, who was blocking their view.

‘Hi, you two, long time no see.' A smiling Reg Carter edged around Arnie and into the kitchen. Dressed in jeans, flannel shirt and duffle coat, he still looked the same as a year ago when they'd first met. He was a Tasmanian Parks and Wildlife ranger then, a job he'd since given up to pursue some higher calling. Something to do with research and law enforcement in New South Wales. And now, here he was, with his tousled, sandy hair and permanent grinning face. The kids liked Reg.

‘Reg!' they both said at once hurrying over to him. Shadow liked him, too. He gave a short yip and scurried from beneath the table. When Reg was a ranger, Shadow had belonged to him, but when his new job meant an interstate posting, he'd thought it best that his dog be given another home. When he asked Jars to have Shadow, she'd jumped at the chance. And from the very first, they'd developed an instant bond, a friend-ship that even Reg found hard to believe.

‘We picked this reprobate up at the jetty,' Snook's dad said, clapping Reg on the back. ‘He rang us on the Harbour Board's two-way radio to let us know he was in town. He's going to spend the night with us.'

He took Reg's coat and then hung it on the kitchen door handle. He pointed to a seat. ‘Sit yourself down; judging by the smell, dinner'll be ready soon.'

Fetching another plate and cutlery from the cupboard, Snook couldn't help asking, ‘How come you're in Cray Bay, Reg? Are you on a secret mission or somethin'?'

Reg, still grinning, shook his head.

‘Then maybe, if you're not doin' anything, you could help me and Jars look for whatever made them queer lights?'

Snook's dad gave him a playful cuff behind the ear. ‘What are you talking about now? Have you been away with the fairies again? Go sit at the table and try to keep that tongue of yours still. We've got more important things than
queer
lights to discuss.'

Wondering what that could be, Jars began to dish out the meal – lamb chops, mashed potatoes, peas and gravy. She also wondered what Reg was doing in Cray Bay. Probably something official, she thought. Something to do with his work. He was an important man now. And no wonder. Reg was extraor-dinary. He had degrees in biology, genetics and speleology – the study of plants, animals and caves. And because of his exceptional qualifications and talent, he'd been given some higher-up position on the mainland. What that was she didn't know. But why had he suddenly come to Cray Bay? He'll tell us soon enough, she supposed.

'T
his looks delicious,' Reg commented as Jars set a plate of food before him.

Waving a fork in Jars' direction, Jim laughed, and then said,

‘She's the expert cook around here, Reg. That's Jars' job when-ever Irene's away. Snook helps too. But tell me, what's brought you to Cray Bay?'

‘Oh, nothing too exciting,' he said, looking a little uncom-fortable. ‘I'm on a week's holiday and I fancied coming down here to see all you guys again. Plus, if I can make it happen, I'd an inkling to spend a few days down south at the ranger's shack in the Wild Rivers National Park. Just to have a look around, maybe see how the regrowth sections are progressing.'

‘Sounds like work to me,' Jim commented, thinking his friend could be spending his holiday in more exciting ways.

‘No, nothing like that. All I'm looking for is a few days' relax-ation.'

‘Here's a thought,' Jim said scratching his chin. ‘Seeing as you want to go south, you could hitch a ride with us on the boat. Arnie and I are heading for Strahan tomorrow. We'd be happy to drop you off wherever it is you're going.'

‘It's past Teepookana Landing, a bit out of your way I'm afraid. At any rate, I was going to hire a boat.'

‘Don't even think it. A little detour's not gonna worry us.' He looked over the table at Jars and Snook. ‘You two can come as well. We'll be away for the whole long weekend and I don't fancy leaving you here on your own.'

‘What's wrong with the usual grounds in the bay?' Snook asked, not really looking forward to three days at sea.

‘Fished out if today's any indication.'

Arnie nodded. ‘C-cray too small, eh, J-Jim? W-we have to go somewhere n-new now.'

‘That's right,' Snook's dad said, picking up a chop with his fingers ready to chew on it. ‘That's why we're going to new grounds tomorrow; it's a case of have to.'

‘Hang on, I've an idea,' Reg said cutting in. ‘Why don't the kids come with me instead of going on the boat? We could stay in the ranger's shack. It's fully equipped. It'd be our base camp. All we'd need is our sleeping bags and some food. What do you say?'

‘Sounds okay to me, Reg,' Jim said, ‘as long as you don't mind 'em tagging along, cramping your style so to speak.'

‘Not at all; they'd be good company.' He grinned across the table. ‘What do you think, you two? Up for a few days in the bush?'

Snook banged a fist on the table. Then, unable to help himself, and in a high-pitched voice that made Jars jump, he yelled, ‘Wicked! A campin' trip. We could go explorin'. Whatcha say, Jars? We might even find out what made them lights.'

Before Jars could say anything, Snook's dad butted in. ‘Settle down, Snook or you'll frighten the dog. Now, tell me, what's this about lights?
Queer lights
, I think you said.'

Snook nodded and hurried to explain about the strange, flashing object in the sky, about the newscast on television and about their earlier plans to go looking for the UFO and any extra-terrestrials that happened to be in it.

His dad shook his head. ‘With your ability to land yourself in hot water, I'd say it's just as well you're not tearing around the countryside searching for any extra-whatsits. That little exercise would've ended in some sort of disaster for sure.' He chuckled. ‘Then again, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing, you getting abducted by aliens. It'd save your mother and me a lot of grief.'

Snook gave a sheepish grin, guessing that his father was joking. At least he hoped he was. He decided not to pursue the matter.

With the decision made to go with Reg, Jars was secretly pleased. A long weekend staying in a cabin in the forest would be fun. Looking for some mysterious flying object would have been interesting, but, she felt certain, would also have been pretty much a waste of time ending with disappointment all round. Especially for Snook.

Besides saving Snook from being let down, it would also save both of them from the humiliation of the inevitable stares and gossip from the townsfolk, who, by now, were bound to have news of the Pearson gem theft.