Arthur Upfield - The Mystery of Swordfish Reef

One after the other the launches delivered up to the club secretary their biggest fish to be weighed-twenty, thirty, forty-pounders, and one after the other were moved to their usual berths alongside the jetty. The anglers hurried away to their cars parked ashore and drove round to the Bermagui Hotel. The day visitors sauntered to their cars, to gather wife and children preparatory to the home journey. Joe rolled homeward, leaving only Remmings of theGladious and Burns of theEdith to tidy their craft before dinner. Wilton called down to the two women who were sitting on the hatch combing of theLilyG. Excel.

“Bill’s a bit late getting in, Mrs Spinks,” he said to the elder of the women. “Mr Ericson may have decided to fight a shark on the way home. Whatd’you think of theMarlin? We finished up on her today, and we’re refloating her tonight.”

“She looks very nice in her new dress of paint, doesn’t she, mother?” replied the younger woman, stepping lightly from launch to jetty to stand beside Wilton. He flushed faintly, and his eyes became veiled when he glanced at Marion Spinks. Gallantly he assisted the mother to the jetty, and she said, brightly:

“Yes, she certainly does. The clean-up will add a knot to the speed, Jack. Hasn’t it been a wonderful day? It must have been as flat as my irons outside. There’s hardly any surf at all.”

Both these women were dressed with that severity and neatness which is the hall-mark of home dressmaking. Both were a fraction above average height, but further than a resemblance in mouth there were no traces of kinship. The elder woman was blonde, and hard work and the years had made her body angular. Marion was a brunette and strongly built. Her shapely figure had gladdened more than one artist, and Wilton thought her the most beautiful thing in his world of ever-changing beauty.

“Well, I must be getting along for dinner,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “Do we travel part of the way together?”

“Not now, Jack,” replied Mrs Spinks. “We’re to give Mr Ericson an answer to his proposal.”

“About working for him when his house is built?”

“Yes. He wants to know this evening so that he can forward his business. If Bill decides to go with him, we’ll be doing the same. We all think a lot of Mr Ericson, and I’m sure we’d be very happy.”

“He’s a very decent man,” agreed Wilton, regarding Mrs Spinks and Marion alternately. “I think you’ll be wise to accept his offer. Bill will have a regular crew all the year round, while you two will have an easier time. Well, I must go alone if you intend to wait for theDo-me. What about the pictures tonight, Marion? Coming?”

“If you’d like to take me,” she replied, looking directly at him.

Wilton was optimistic as he walked the road to the township and his home. There were moments when he was exceedingly pessimistic, for Marion Spinks was not able to make up her mind sufficiently to surrender to the idea of marrying him.

He was dressed in his good blue suit when he heard his mother talking with someone in their kitchen-living-room. It was half-past seven and the evening was advanced. Through the open window of his bedroom came a cool draught of air, soft and fragrant with flowers growing in the tidy garden. Beyond the window the evening was quiet, unusually quiet. It was strangely empty of sound-the omnipresent sound of surf.

With his mother was Marion Spinks.

“Hullo! What’s up, Marion?”

“TheDo-me isn’t home yet.” she replied, her eyes troubled.

“Not home! Well, there’s plenty of time for her to get home without you worrying.”

“That’s what I tell mother. But you know what she is, Jack. And-and…”

Her voice died away as rainwater vanishes in droughty earth. Her face was tautened by unease of mind. Mrs Wilton echoed her son’s remark about there being plenty of time still for theDo-me to reach port before the need for worry. Wilton crossed the room and stood close to the girl.

“Well?” he asked softly.

Into the wide blue eyes entered an expression of entreaty. Her right hand grasped his left arm.

“I haven’t felt too good all afternoon, Jack. Now I feel that there’s something wrong with Bill and young Garroway and Mr Ericson. You know how it is with me and Bill.”

“But what could be wrong?” argued Wilton. “The sea all day has been as calm as a park lake. It’s not yet fully dark, and even if it was as black as the ace of spades Bill could navigate theDo-me across the bar and up to the jetty.”

“Still…”

The blue eyes now were compelling. The small nostrils were slightly distended, and the hand which grasped his arm was now clasped by her other hand.

“I feel-I know-I feel that something’s happened to theDo-me,” she said, slowly and softly. A strange power seemed to emanate from her which he felt. “There hasn’t been a breath of wind all day, and Alf Remmings said it’s been hazy, too. There’s no wind now. I’ve just been up to the headland. The sea looks like new-cut lead. Supposing theDo-me ’s engine has broken down-the sail would be useless. She might be current-driven to the coast rocks.”

Wilton said, gazing into the fearful eyes regarding him pleadingly:

“There may be something in what you say. I don’t think it’s likely, though. Bill knows his engine, from sump to tank. Tell you what! If theDo-me isn’t home when we come out of the pictures I’ll get Burns and Remmings to go out and patrol. TheMarlin not being ready for sea, I could go with one or other. But-still-by that time theDo-me will be home. Hang it! Bill’s one of the best launchmen here.”

The girl bit her lower lip.

“I wouldn’t enjoy the pictures. Jack, thinking, thinking-”

“All right! If that’s how you feel I’ll change back into my sea clothes and go after Burns and Remmings now. You slip back home and stop your mother worrying.”

“Yes, dear, that’s best,” Mrs Wilton said in support. “You can leave the rest to Jack.”

An hour later the three launches, Edith, Gladious andIvy, crossed the bar and slid like shadows over the bay swell towards the tip of the headland and the ocean. Marion and her mother waited at home until their anxiety would permit them to wait there no longer. It was close to midnight when they walked along the road to the jetty.

There they found theSnowy, with other launches moored against the jetty, and they went aboard her and took possession of the two uncushioned anglers’ chairs. They could see nothing, but it was comforting to sit there.

The familiar sounds of the river were infinitely more soothing than the empty silence of their home-the cry of a gull, the honking of swans far up the river, now and then the plop of a small fish followed by the surface movement of heavier fish chasing it. All about them life was unseen but prolific, familiar. Outside, the ocean was as quiet as if it had been withdrawn to the very stars that gleamed in the velvety sky. From it came no sound save the faint music of surf on sand. It was not the voice of the sea they knew so well-the heavy pounding and thudding of league-long rollers.

At 2 am theEdith came in with Eddy Burns and Joe Peace on board. They reported that they had patrolled up and down Swordfish Reef without sighting theDo-me. At daybreak the two women were still on the jetty when theEdith went out again, after which they hurried home for a meal and then walked to the front of the great headland protecting the township. At noon all the searching launches returned to port. TheDo-me had not been sighted, nor could her wreckage be observed on the coast. Silently, Marion and her mother were eating lunch when Wilton entered their kitchen-living-room.

“It’s no use worrying,” he told them. “A wire may come through from somewhere.”