Mackenzie Ford - The Clouds Beneath the Sun

“Yes, you’re right, exactly that. How did you know?”

“Come on, it’s not hard. You were miles away. Maybe we can put a call through to him tonight, from the hotel. You never know your luck.”

“What a good idea, Jack. Yes, please. But don’t get too sensitive all of a sudden. I’ve not done this snorkeling before, or swum on a reef. I need you in pilot mode, Olympic swimmer mode, tough-guy-in-control mode.”

“I know my place.” He grinned. “Now, let me fix your flippers.”

In no time they were out at sea. Natalie had never known water so warm—not so surprising, she told herself, since they were at two degrees south, as near the equator as she had ever been.

The water was clear, visibility was good but there was not much to see, to begin with, just the sandy bottom of the ocean. She swam a few yards behind Jack, who seemed to know where he was going and stopped every two hundred yards or so to rest, take a breather, and ask her how she was doing. While she was quite comfortable breathing through the tube, looking down into the depths of the water, the air didn’t feel quite so fresh as when they broke the surface and she breathed normally.

“Okay,” said Jack at their third break, “we’re nearly at the reef. When we reach it We’ll turn left, north, and you’ll begin to see the bigger, brighter-colored fish.” He reaffixed his mask and was off.

As they reached the coral, the underwater vegetation started to grow in abundance, huge flat fans of yellow, long thin strips of blue-green, underwater bushes of brown, fields of grasslike sea green. And then the fish began—coral fish, kingfish, wahoo, sailfish. Little scarlet fish, in shoals, thin iris-colored fish in twos and threes, great lurking marlin, violet black and shy in the distance, schools of near-transparent fish that moved as one, jerking this way and that.

Natalie had never seen anything like it and was immediately entranced. Slowly, they worked their way up the reef, following the fish as they eased into places where the coral overhung what was below, creating caves and shadows, where they disturbed more marlin.

Every so often, Natalie broke the surface for a breather, to chew in some fresh air, as she thought of it. But she was soon back underwater, looking for species she hadn’t seen before, marveling at the sheer number of different colors. She supposed that each and every one was adapted to some niche in the marine environment but it didn’t seem like that. It seemed as if it was all designed for the pleasure of human snorkelers, a vast kaleidoscopic jumble of colors and shapes, a never-ending, always-changing fashion parade. Natalie lost all sense of time.

After however long it was, Jack signaled to her to take another breather. He lifted his mask and said, “How are you doing? Not too tired?”

“No, not all,” she replied. “I’m loving it, all of it.”

“So the answer is: yes, you’re as good at snorkeling as I am at singing. In the water you’re up there with Esther Williams.”

“It’s not exactly difficult.”

“You’d be surprised, some people never acquire the rhythm, or don’t like the underwater landscape.”

“A carol concert, and now this. They certainly take your mind off—”

She was interrupted by a number of large waves, wake from a ship.

“We’ve been out nearly three hours.”

“We have?”

He nodded. “It’s just on two o’clock. From here, we’ll ease back via the cliffs. When we get there, we may see some turtles. Normally they don’t bother us if we don’t bother them—but try not to get too close. They can snap at you if you do.”

He set off again.

The cliffs, when they came to them, were skirted with bushes of brown, rubbery-looking fronds that Natalie found rather forbidding, not at all the sort of thing you would want to get tangled up in.

Jack headed left, south, back towards the beach where they had left their clothes and his bag. After a moment, he turned, swam towards Natalie, and pointed back the way he had come.

She looked over to where he was pointing.

Turtles.

There were about six of them, diving and playing, one or two feeding. They were a little out to sea, and Jack motioned for Natalie to follow him, nearer in, by the underwater face of the cliff. The turtles had seen them and looked in their direction, but other than that they hadn’t moved. They were really quite large, thought Natalie, and their shells reflected the underwater light in ever-changing ways. The turtles had a beauty all their own.

Now that they were swimming for home, Natalie had got slightly ahead of Jack and she looked with interest as she approached what appeared to be a cave in the cliffs. It was a dark patch, set back, with two fingers of rock stretching outwards, on either side.

As Natalie reached the first finger and swam over it, she saw her own shadow cross the rock.

Suddenly, a large turtle was swimming rapidly towards her. It had been quietly minding its own business in the cave and must have felt trapped by Natalie’s arrival, or her shadow, for it suddenly made a dash towards the other turtles, out to sea. The creature—as big as Natalie in terms of bulk—came very close and, as it did so, turned its head towards her. Fearing it would snap at her, Natalie thrashed to one side, nearer the rocks of the cliff, and in no time a bolt of sharp pain exploded in her right knee.

She had collided with the stone of the cliff and in the process landed on a sea urchin.

She cried out. Salt water filled her mouth, she choked and jerked her head above water, snatching at her mask and snorkel. All thought of the turtle went out of her mind and she broke the surface of the water, gasping for air and clutching her knee.

Jack was with her immediately. “I saw what happened!” he shouted. “The turtle’s gone. If you can swim to the end of the cliffs, I have some ammonia in my bag. That will help the pain. I’ll go and get it.”

Natalie nodded. She was hurting too much to say anything, but the end of the cliffs wasn’t far off and she knew she needed to get there.

Jack had stopped snorkeling and was swimming crawl as fast as he could, the flippers helping his speed. She followed, swimming breaststroke but hardly using her right leg. If she moved her knee joint, the pain was even worse. She just let her injured leg trail in the water.

In her state, it took her ten minutes to reach the end of the cliffs and limp ashore. Although the pain was such that she just wanted to lie on the first soft sand she came to, she knew she had to reach shade, for safety’s sake. It was after three o’clock by now but the sun was still high in the sky. She could see Jack in the distance; he had reached the spot where they had left their belongings, and he was beginning to run back towards her, carrying his bag.

There were some trees and bushes at the edge of the beach and a small patch of shade. With relief, she slumped on the sand. She looked at her knee but didn’t touch it. It was impregnated with a dozen or more tiny black spikes which had broken off. She couldn’t straighten her leg—it hurt too much.

Jack arrived. “Let me look.”

She pointed.

He whistled. “Nasty.” He took a jar from his bag and a small towel, the kind of towel they had with them in the gorge, kept in the back pocket of their trousers.

In the jar was a yellow-white liquid, transparent, which he now poured onto the towel.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Liquid ammonia, ammonia dissolved in water. It helps salve the pain, with jellyfish stings and with sea urchins.”

Gently, he laid the damp towel on the flesh of her knee.

Immediately she felt the pain ease.

“Ah!” she said. “That’s better, much better.”