The Coral Bones, page 12
September 21, 1839
Reader, we have reached paradise – or as close to that realm as we may aspire from our humble tenure on Earth. We are anchored off a constellation of islands which lie like raindrops upon a stained-glass pane; no precious stone could compete for the colours of the ocean. The islands are wooded, and contain a variety of species such as we have not seen before amongst the barrier reefs. Alongside the ubiquitous eucalypts there are towering hoop pines and wispy casuarinas. This pleases the crew greatly. The pines make them nostalgic for English trees, and they rib me for my defence of the gum, which to my eye remains the most beautiful in its complexity of leaf and limb.
Father wishes to survey the archipelago for timber prospects, and we are to spend some time charting the islands. He says these forests are like the pines on Norfolk Island, although I asked him not to mention that place, which casts such a shadow upon the colony. Father teased me. You are growing quite the Emancipist, he said. I told him it was only a matter of time until transportation ended, everyone in Sydney knew it, and rightly so if he wanted my opinion. For what will people think of us – said I – when the first thing they see is the chain gangs in their canaries? Why would free emigrants wish to come here?
You will get your wish, Judith, do not fear. The Whigs are in the ascent, and they have a bone to pick over this.
I am glad to hear it. It is about time someone took an interest in our affairs.
At this, Father gave me an amused look, and repeated: Our affairs?
Those of New South Wales, Father.
You are a British citizen, Judith.
Yes, Father, but I have never set foot in England, and frankly I have no desire to. Why should I care a jot about that old place?
Father turned serious then, and said he understood my sentiments, but I should be careful not to say such things in front of his officers or the men of science, for they could be taken as dissent or even treasonous. I felt this absurd but agreed to keep my counsel, for I do not wish to cause Father any bother.
But I was writing of the islands, though surely I have not the words to do their splendour justice. Their hearts are thick with forest, their edges fringed with beaches of the purest white. The sand appears as a strip of bleached linen laid against bolts of blue and green. The colours come in gradients: the white of the beach, the swathe of clear turquoise water in the shallows, then bold aquamarine, and then a sumptuous cobalt as the sea floor deepens. In some estuaries these colours swirl together, with an effect like that of a laden paintbrush dipped in a jar of water. In other places, where the water is shallow, we can see clusters of reefs protruding from the sandy bottom, and seagrass meadows where green turtles and dugong laze – there has been fresh turtle meat in abundance. We have found creeks of fresh water, and forests of creaking mangroves which wind their roots down into the water in labyrinthine twists.
The ship remains anchored in deeper waters, but the two longboats are exploring all over the archipelago, and at last I too was permitted to land ashore. Belinda came with me, though with great trepidation that she would be taken by natives and eaten. We know from Cook’s account that a canoe people are to be found in these parts, and they may travel considerable distances, but as yet we have seen no evidence of permanent habitation.
The second longboat, whose party included the botanists, Mr Pooke, and Lieutenant Talbot, rowed us to the beach of a small bay. Here the sand drew a crescent against the sea, and was interspersed with crops of deep red rock, both small and large, some partially submerged beyond the tideline. The air was vociferous with the cries of birds, and so enthralling were their acrobatics as they dived and soared that I hardly knew where to look or which to identify first. Gliding overhead was the magnificent sight of white-bellied sea eagles. Closer to the shore, I saw egrets and herons wading in the shallows, their necks snapping out and recoiling as they sought morsels of prey, and by the red flash of their beaks I spotted pied oystercatchers strutting near the rocks. Food was available in its plenty.
We gained the surf, and Able Seaman Barlow and Dennett the midshipman leapt over the gunwale to drag the longboat up the beach. I jumped out at once. The first thing I did was to remove my shoes and stockings and walk barefoot upon the sand, despite Belinda’s protestations. The sun was strong, the sand was warm, and the sensation of the grains moving between my toes was a glorious thing to one who has been shipbound some six weeks. I wobbled, unsteady on this ground that was at once solid and shifting, and after a few steps I fell, and lay back laughing with the sheer bliss of it.
Look, Belinda! I cried. See how fine the sand is – don’t you want to try?
Perhaps Belinda was spellbound to be once more on land (who could not be spellbound by such country as we found ourselves traversing?) for I prevailed upon her to do the same. Even some of the crew, watching enviously as we padded back and forth along the beach, succumbed to the allure of this Eden, although they could not be persuaded to lay down their weapons, and appeared a comical sight in their uniforms and rifles and trousers rolled to the calf. Mr Tucker and Mr Kimball were already surveying the foredunes beyond the spinifex grasses, and shortly afterwards they disappeared into the forest, accompanied by an armed officer. Mr Tucker also carried a rifle. I knew him to be a proficient shot, but Mr Kimball was no more capable of defending himself than a baby.
To my surprise, Mr Pooke was amongst the first of our party to relinquish his shoes. He rolled up his trousers and strode into the surf, hands resting on his hips as he surveyed the bay. In the far distance I could see the Kittiwake, its sails furled, resting like a child’s toy upon a still pond. Beyond Mr Pooke, a sea-eagle made a spectacular dive, plunging into the water and emerging with a fish gripped in its talons, its wings lofting in great beats as it raised itself from the waves. I heard its cry and my heart answered with the thrill of something deep and wild.
Ah! exclaimed the naturalist, and strode further out until he was waist-deep in the water, and his clothes entirely soaked.
What is it? I called. What do you see?
Fish, Miss Holliman, he replied. Many fish.
I wish to see!
You can’t go in the water, mistress, said Belinda.
And why not? There are no sharks here.
It wouldn’t be proper, said Belinda, scandalised.
If I am to study the natural world, I must be able to see it.
We can row you out, Miss Holliman, offered Lieutenant Talbot. I suspected he was rather enjoying the solitude of the beach, and did not feel inclined to go rampaging through the forests in search of potentially hostile natives.
It seems an awful lot of trouble, I said, stepping into the surf.
Your Father would not want you to swim, Miss Holliman, said Lieutenant Talbot, a note of censure entering his voice. I did not care for Father’s strictures, but to appease the lieutenant I got back into the longboat and allowed the seamen to row me a short distance from the shore. I leaned out, but there was too much movement, and it was hopeless trying to see anything whilst the boat bobbed about.
Oh, for goodness’ sake, I said, and before anyone could stop me, I gathered my skirts and climbed over the side. The water reached my waist, pleasantly temperate, and my skirts floated about my legs. Is there a more wonderful thing than to immerse oneself in water? I wished the crew were gone and I could remove my skirts completely and swim at ease, as I did in the river at home. Take the boat back! I said. The seamen sat there, torn between Father’s orders and common sense. Logic won out, and they retreated to the shore. Fifty feet away, Mr Pooke was also wading about, the water now reaching his chest. His face was intent, and for once he did not look disdainful, only engrossed in whatever had caught his gaze. I too turned my attention below the surface.
There were schools of slim silvery fish. Shaped like miniature arrowheads, they appeared no more than a thread and a dot of the eye. I moved further from the shore until I could no longer feel the tug of the waves moving up and down the beach. I held my breath and put my face into the water, opening my eyes beneath it. Now I could see the silver schools clearly. I was mesmerised by their motion, the many individuals gathered as one, milling in set formations, then all turning upon some mysterious signal. I came up for air. I heard a distressed noise, which I guessed was Belinda wailing at my impropriety, and ignored it. When I dipped my face again I was rewarded with the sight of another fish, about half the size of my hand with bold, vertical black and white stripes, congregating around a crop of the reddish rock.
I raised my head, felt the sun on my face and the waves about my shoulders. Fish brushed against my calves. How incredible it was that there could be two worlds, the one all but invisible to the other until the mere action of wetting one’s face. Another twenty yards out, Mr Pooke was now swimming.
Be careful, Miss Holliman, he called. There are rocks amongst the sand, you might graze your feet.
Thank you, Mr Pooke, I replied, but found I did not mind his word of caution, which for once seemed kindly meant.
I see fish with yellow tails, he reported. With a net I may be able to catch one.
I will sketch it if you do, I called back.
I dipped my head once again to observe the fish, then drew a deeper breath and ducked beneath the surface, allowing the water to close above my head. My clothes billowed about me. Not far away I saw the pale calves and feet of Mr Pooke, moving like paddles as he swam.
I could have remained in the water for hours, but every time I rose it was to the renewed calls of Belinda. I relented and returned to shore, delighting in the pull of the backwash against my ankles as I made my way up the beach. Belinda threw herself upon me as though I had survived a near drowning.
Mistress, you are soaked!
She seized handfuls of my skirts and began to wring them out.
I will dry quick as anything, I said. Feel how warm the sun is!
I took a pail from the longboat and waded back out. The silvery fish were evasive, but I persevered and managed to shepherd a few into the pail, which I brought back to the shore. I fetched my sketchbook and set myself up with paper and pencil, endeavouring to capture their form. It was not an easy feat; they were so quick and fine, almost translucent within their watery prison. I cupped one in water between my hands and lifted it closer. Its tail whipped against my palms as it strove to escape. Not far away, I was aware of Lieutenant Talbot viewing me as one might a dangerous animal. He had tasked Barlow and Dennett with procuring our lunch, and was preparing a small fire for the cooking.
I left the silver fish and wandered across the beach to explore around the rocks at the water’s edge, where the oystercatchers were probing the wet sand for molluscs. I admired the distinctive black and white of their plumage, the plump bodies giving way to the slender red beaks. Mr Pooke returned, very excited as he had managed to catch one of the blue fish with yellow tails, which now resided in a pail next to my small silvers. I examined it eagerly. The back and sides were silvery, fading to a paler belly; the yellow tail was bright as a cockatoo’s crest. I took a fresh sheet of paper. I had only lead with me, and made note of the colours.
The blue is not so vivid out of the water, said Mr Pooke, sounding disappointed.
We will look for them from the boat, I suggested.
This seemed to cheer him.
Yes. I wish to obtain specimens of the corals also, but for those I will need to dive. After lunch, perhaps.
The two seamen returned with a catch of bream, and I felt obliged to release my specimens. It seemed uncharitable to keep them close when only a few feet away we were merrily roasting their cousins over the flames. Mr Tucker may keep his cathedral, choir and all, for I’ll wager there is no finer pastime in life than the cooking and eating of fresh fish on an open fire: the crackling skin, the hot flakes of flesh salty on the tongue, the perfect happiness of a full stomach, and all around us the swash of waves against the shore. Were I to spend every day thus for the rest of my life, I would surely be the luckiest woman alive.
September 26, 1839
A most distressing turn of events! And everything was going so splendidly! But I can hardly bear to write, I am in such a rage. My hand is shaking. It is no good, I have no patience for writing tonight. Father is intolerable.
September 27, 1839
I am hardly less incensed today, but I must record the incident. We have now spent a number of days taking the longboats around the islands, gathering specimens of flora, charting water points and examining the terrain. The first longboat has discovered signs of natives on at least two islands, but we have not seen a single one. It has been the same everywhere we go, almost as though they have some inkling of our arrival and vanish ahead of it, not wishing to be found.
Yesterday I joined the second longboat with the naturalist and Lieutenant Talbot, the botanists being with the other party that day. We came to a bay where the water at low tide was shallow enough for Mr Pooke to dive easily for coral, and he was able to chisel away several specimens for his tank. He says there are varieties of acropora and gorgonia and also some plate corals. The gorgonia are especially vibrant, unfolding like exquisite fans against the blue water. It was upon our return from this hitherto benign expedition that we came across a remarkable creature.
A large shadow blotted out the crystalline waters of the bay. We passed over, at first taking its mass for an outcrop of rock, before realising that the shadow was in fact moving, and moving with us, following the longboat a few yards behind and several fathoms deep. One of the seamen, convinced we were being tracked by a shark, released his oar and seized the gunwale in fright, and the longboat rocked in the water.
Hold still! commanded Lieutenant Talbot. Everyone in the boat grew rigid. I saw the fear in their faces, anticipating at any moment the bump from below which might overturn us, and I did not understand why we did not row, if it were a shark, and make for the ship at speed. I thought of the monster on the deck of the Kittiwake. I had wished to see it up close in the water; perhaps I might now have the opportunity. I returned my gaze to the sea. The shadow trailed us, hovering, and as it rose a couple of feet I observed there was a rippling quality to its motion.
I do not think— I began, at the same time as Mr Pooke pronounced: That is not a shark.
Lieutenant Talbot glared at us both.
Then what in God’s name is it? Is it dangerous?
Reassured that I was not alone in my analysis, I relaxed and took hold of the gunwale to obtain a better look. The creature moved like a billowing sail pinned beneath the water. Its pectoral fins spread out in a vast diamond, the breadth of which I estimated to be greater than the eighteen feet of the longboat. The upper side of the fin was dark, but its scrolling movement revealed glimpses of a white underside. I could just make out the tapering spindle of a tail. Altogether, I assessed its shape to be that of a stingray, but far larger.
Do you recognise it, Mr Pooke? I asked, for I had never seen a ray of such size.
I do not know – I believe it may be— began the naturalist.
It was so rare to see hesitancy in Mr Pooke that for a moment I withdrew my gaze from the creature.
Yes?
A manta, Miss Holliman. A species of ray. Edward Bancroft, the physician, has written about them. In Jamaica they are known as the sea-devil. This would appear to match Bancroft’s description. Do you see the protrusions at its head, which look to us like horns?
I returned eagerly to the creature.
Yes, yes, I see. But they are not horns…
No, it is the cephalic fin, if I recall correctly, on either side of the mouth.
The pectoral fins of the ray rippled. I noticed the insides of its horns were also white, and paler patches glowed on its back beyond the head. What a beautiful creature it was! I whispered the name to myself: manta. It had the sound of a spell or an incantation, as though merely to speak it might summon these magisterial beings from the depths. How I envied Mr Pooke his knowledge in this moment. All those years of study, and he wore them so carelessly, so frivolously, as if knowledge were something to take at one’s leisure, a currency with itinerant value, when I would have given every hair on my head for a month with the books and papers he must have read. I would have endured England. He does not know the worth of it, and there would be no use in trying to make him understand, for he has not the imagination to conceive of that beyond his own perception.
There you are, Lieutenant Talbot, I said aloud. It is a ray, nothing worse.
Is it dangerous? repeated the lieutenant.
Look, Mr Pooke! There is a second swimming beyond it!
So there is, Miss Holliman!
Could it be its mate, do you think?
Perhaps so, perhaps so.
Goddammit, man! Is it dangerous? Should we shoot it?
Shoot it? I turned, subjecting Lieutenant Talbot to the full force of my glare. What are you talking about, Lieutenant Talbot? Certainly you shall not shoot it.
In truth, I do not know if they are dangerous, said Mr Pooke, which further angered me – for if he did not know, then why did he not keep silent?
It is large enough to swallow us, said Lieutenant Talbot. There was a mulish look about him which I neither liked nor trusted. He continued: It could easily capsize us! You said they were called the sea-devil. There will be a reason for that, mark my words.
It is called the sea-devil because of the horns— began Mr Pooke. But it was too late. Lieutenant Talbot had made up his mind from the moment he heard the word devil. I could see the doubt in the faces of the seamen, the dread creeping in, the stories of malevolent beings surfacing in their minds. Yet I did not believe the ray would harm us. I had no evidence to support my theory, but instinct told me that the movement of the ray was not that of a vicious hunter, nor did its head have the predatory shape of a shark: rather it was broad and wide with a gaping mouth. The rays were interested in us, I thought, interested enough to follow us and see what manner of beast we were. They were curious, nothing more.
Dennett, take aim, ordered Mr Talbot.
