Derek Hansen - Sole Survivor

“Oh, Christ,” she muttered as she saw the wilderness beneath her. In her first flush of optimism after reading Red’s letter, she’d imagined there’d be rolling green pastures dotted with Persil white sheep and goats, with the odd Jersey cow thrown in for fresh milk. Instead she saw three drab-looking bachs in tiny clearings that the surrounding bush threatened to engulf at any moment. If this was her Garden of Eden it was high time they sent in the gardeners. She thought back to the old man whose legacy had brought her. If an old man could make a go of it, so could she. It was an argument she’d often mounted to harden her resolve, but from the front seat of the Grumman Widgeon she began to question her conviction. How on earth can anyone live down there, she wondered?

“Not much here, is there?” Captain Ladd interrupted her thoughts. “I think that’s Red’s place just below us, old Bernie’s place is over there on the next ridge, and ex-Inspector McLeod’s place … down there. See it?”

Rosie saw it all right. The amphibian glided down the slopes and leveled out barely one hundred feet over the water. She caught her first glimpse of Wreck Bay’s three sandy beaches and their ancient pohutukawa sentinels. This was better. Captain Ladd began a slow, banking climb for the return pass.

“All three moorings have boats on them, so you’ll have a bit of a wait at Fitzroy.”

“Odd. I told Red what time I was arriving.”

“I did warn you not to expect them to roll out the red carpet.”

“Look! Someone’s waving.” Rosie returned the wave. Down below them, Angus cursed louder and shook his fist even harder. “Maybe you’re wrong.”

The pilot looked at her and bit his lip. Years of looking at the world from an eagle’s point of view had taught him how to interpret what he saw. Never in his wildest dreams would he have interpreted Angus’s raised fist as a wave. He rolled his eyes. She’d learn.

“Look. There! By my place.”

Captain Ladd was a bit taken aback by the unexpected use of the possessive and peered out of his side window. A man, a dog and half a dozen chooks were standing in front of Bernie’s bach, looking up at them.

“Hell’s bells, does he normally dress so formally?”

The pilot laughed. “Apparently.” Both man and dog stood motionless as the plane passed overhead and left them behind.

“Well, you could say he wore a lovely smile. And at least I know he’s a genuine redhead.”

Captain Ladd laughed. But he couldn’t help wondering what sort of happy elixir his passenger had taken. He’d seen no trace of a smile. No sooner had they recrossed the ridge than the amphibian began its descent into Port Fitzroy. Rosie settled back in her seat as the ripples beneath her took form and substance and became waves. The aircraft bounced once as Captain Ladd had predicted, slowed, then began a sweeping one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn back toward the wharf.

“Can’t run up on the beach here,” he said. “Just too muddy. You’ll have to wait for someone to come out and collect you.” The amphibian motored gently up to a vacant buoy, where the pilot tied off. “Well, what do you reckon?”

“Not what I expected. There’s no one here.”

“Oh, there are a few buildings dotted around. By Barrier standards this is pretty crowded. What did you think of Wreck Bay?”

Rosie laughed, but it was more a nervous laugh than good humored. “Well, it does make this place look crowded.”

“Think you’ll give it a go?”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Any second thoughts, give me a call. If the conditions are right, I could probably put down in Wreck Bay and run up onto the beach. Up there you can begin to feel that the world’s forgotten all about you. But remember this. You’re just twenty-five minutes away from civilization. That’s all. One call and I’ll come and get you. You’ve got my number. Otherwise I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Thanks, Fred.”

“One more thing. Deep down both those blokes up there are good, decent men. Just might take you a while to find the good bits. They’re not used to strangers, and they’re certainly not used to having a lady around. But if you get into strife they won’t let you down. Things aren’t necessarily as they might appear.”

“They never are, Fred. Thanks for the warning. But has anybody warned them about me?”

Captain Ladd burst out laughing. His passenger had pluck. But nonetheless she was asking too much. If she got through her two-week trial run he thought she might last two months. Maybe three, because he could sense her stubbornness. He decided to give her three months before she called, but call she would. “Here’s your transport.”

Rosie looked at the tiny clinker dinghy being rowed out to meet them, bucking in the small but steep chop. Both she and her bags were about to get wet, but she guessed that was something she’d have to get used to. She wished she hadn’t bothered going to the hairdresser’s. She reached across and kissed the pilot on the cheek. “Thanks, Fred. And thanks for showing me my new home.”

“How’d you like the snapper?”

“Great, Col.”

“Glad you like it, because over here we eat snapper like people over there eat lamb chops.” Col gestured vaguely westward.

Rosie smiled. “Over there” was where she’d just come from. “Over here” was Great Barrier. “Up here” was Fitzroy. “The other side” was the east coast. Col had invited her into his home to have lunch and told her to put her things in the spare bedroom. Then, as gently as they could, he and his wife, Jean, had let her know that she might be needing it for a few days.

“Things don’t run to schedules up here,” Jean told her. “If anything, they’re worse over the other side. Tell ’em to be here Saturday, you probably won’t see ’em till Monday. They won’t come even if they intended to come before they were told to be here. They won’t come even if they’re low on fuel and supplies. There’s something about the Barrier makes people contrary, and those blokes on the other side are more contrary than most. Ask somebody to do something, they’ll go out of the way to do the opposite.”

Once she’d eaten lunch, Rosie decided to go for a walk along the road that followed the shoreline to the community center, a hut the army had left behind at the end of the war. She needed to escape from all the advice she was getting and absorb something of the Barrier for herself. She needed time to gather her thoughts. As she strolled down the corrugated, loose-gravel road, the first thing that struck her was the silence. She’d never heard it before. There were no vehicles, no planes overhead, no blaring radios, no people. She stopped and listened. By concentrating she could hear the wind in the trees high up on the ridge tops and, away to her right, the waves slapping against oyster-encrusted rocks. But nothing else. The sun beat down on her as if she had its whole and undivided attention. It felt eerie and oppressive. She’d just managed to convince herself that the silence was beautiful and restful when she was startled by a sudden rustling of dry leaves. A banded rail poked its head out of the thicket to take a look at the intruder, then boldly crossed the road in front of her. Rosie had never seen one before and tried to catch its attention.

“Here chook-chook-chook!” she said, and immediately felt foolish. She was a city girl, and that was the only way she knew to attract a bird’s attention. She looked quickly around to make sure nobody had heard her. Farther on, the road dipped down toward what appeared to be an iron sand beach. She jumped again as a ruckus broke out in a pohutukawa tree on her left, and a black bird chased away two mynahs that had strayed onto its territory. Rosie held her breath. A tui! She’d never been so close to a tui before, and the bird seemed to know it. It strutted up and down on a branch right above her head, displaying its arrogant puff of white throat feathers, and rocking from leg to leg so that the feathers she’d taken to be black occasionally flashed deep blue and emerald. After a few minutes the tui became bored and flew up to a higher branch where it was no more than a dark silhouette against the sky. Rosie exhaled deeply. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. So this was Great Barrier. The view from the plane didn’t do it justice. It changed once you could smell the bush, hear the birds and taste the sharp, mineral freshness in the air. Her spirits lifted again, now that she’d begun to take in her surroundings, and lifted once more when she noticed the clay bank on the high side of the road. She realized she’d seen clay earlier. From the plane. Yes! A great bank of it as the amphibian had skimmed across Wreck Bay, and it was right by the beach with the jetty and moorings. At least one part of her speculations was accurate. Where there was plenty of clay, there was the potential to make pottery.