The Keeper of the Octopus, page 15
‘Careful, Wally,’ said Pippy, helping him climb down the rocks to where the river met the sea. They stood together knee-deep in the water, waiting for the octopus babies, who were down hatching in their den, to slowly rise up to the surface.
‘They’re called larvae,’ stammered Wally, his voice bubbling full of happiness. ‘They’re larvae until they’re three months of age and then they become hatchlings.’ Wally had obviously done quite a bit of reading about octopuses since Pippy had told him about Octavia’s den full of eggs.
Pink and translucent, the octopus babies began to appear. One by one, they bobbed and jiggled in the water, weaving in and out of Pippy and Wally’s legs. If there was a heaven, Pippy and Wally were in it right now.
Pippy gathered the babies gently in her hands and they stared up at her with curious eyes.
‘They look just like Octavia,’ whispered Pippy, as they wriggled and squirmed, slipping from her hands to plop back into the water.
‘Amazing,’ breathed Wally.
Pippy nudged him gently as Octavia appeared in the water, hovering beside them. She was watching her babies floating to the surface, casting the odd glance at Pippy and Wally.
Pippy kneeled down in the water to stroke her mantle.
Without a single stammer, Wally crouched down and said to Octavia, ‘Your babies are beautiful.’
For the briefest moment, Octavia glowed a pale purple hue. As she caressed Wally’s feet with her tentacles, his chin trembled and he guffawed with happiness. With wonder.
Pippy and Wally both knew that from here on, Octavia would have little to do with her babies. Octopus babies were born independent, and they would swim away to drift in clouds of plankton, eating and growing until they matured.
The babies zig-zagged, swimming crazily in every direction until they were all gone.
And yet, Pippy and Wally agreed that they didn’t feel sad. This was Mither and Teran at work, forces to be reckoned with. This was nature. This was the cycle of life.
And this is a new beginning, Pippy thought. As she stared into Octavia’s eyes, she knew the octopus sensed it too. A lone tentacle wrapped around her ankle as Pippy patted Octavia’s rubbery head.
Pippy began the slow process of weaning Octavia off her fish. She’d confided in both Wally and Uncle Isaac that this was Mama’s dying wish. Uncle Isaac had rubbed his whiskers, remaining thoughtful for quite some time.
‘Argh, Pippy bairn,’ said Uncle Isaac. ‘I’ve been telling you the wrong things. Maybe the old ways ain’t the best ways?’
Pippy held her uncle’s ropey hand in hers. ‘Maybe it just means the old ways aren’t always the best ways.’
‘Aye, bairn,’ said Uncle Isaac. ‘I didn’t see it before, but I do now. Claudine’s right. Sharks ain’t been a problem for a long time, and from what you’ve told me, they didn’t cause it to begin with. Her ladyship deserves her freedom. I’m so sorry, Pippy bairn. It’s not going to be easy for you to say goodbye to her.’
Pippy hugged her uncle. ‘Just knowing Octavia will be free is enough for me.’ And Uncle Isaac hugged her back.
As Octavia’s daily feed of fish dwindled, there were a few occasions when Octavia looked up at Pippy with questioning eyes. Since her babies had gone, Octavia had become her ferociously hungry self again. But she never got angry with Pippy for the lack of fish. It was as if Octavia sensed change was coming, and when Pippy visited her with one last fish in the bucket, she was sure Octavia knew. They held onto each other and Octavia paled into a shade of the softest blue.
‘I know, but this feels right,’ whispered Pippy. ‘I will never forget you.’
Pippy felt her heart expand inside of her as Octavia glowed mauve. Mama’s favourite colour, and now Pippy’s, too.
That night, by the light of the full moon, Pippy and Wally were carted to the river mouth by Bill and his grey pony. As Wally set up the lantern with a single candle, Pippy wriggled her toes in the river, calling for Octavia. The stink of salt mud filled her nostrils and a silence settled upon the river.
‘It’s time,’ whispered Pippy, as Octavia appeared floating just below the surface. She sighed, knowing that in setting Octavia free, she would never see her again.
Pippy’s hands were trembling so much that Wally lit the candle for her.
‘I, Pippy Cocklebiddy, of sound heart and mind, Keeper of the Octopus, release you, Octavia, the octopus of the deep, from protecting the river mouth and the villagers of Portablow. You are free to go. Free to go. You are free to go.’
Pippy and Octavia stared at each other for the longest moment until Pippy blew out the candle.
Pippy hadn’t been entirely sure how to go about breaking the pledge, but she realised by the very fact of not believing in it anymore, it was already broken. So she re-wrote the ritual, hoping it would help in setting Octavia free.
‘By the light of the moon
There is no pending doom
Your body is strong and
our hearts will forever belong −
But the Keeper who loves you dear
no longer needs you near, so
You are free to swim out to sea
And live your life as an octopus should be.’
Pippy and Octavia had always understood each other, and this time was no different. Octavia glowed with love, purple rippling down her tentacles, her bright eyes never leaving Pippy’s. Octavia returned to her camouflage of green flecked with brown and blinked once before rapidly pumping her siphon and filling her mantle.
Pippy heard Wally sniffle and whisper softly on the breeze. ‘Farewell, Octavia.’
With one last look and an almighty push, Octavia launched herself away from the rocks and flew out into the open ocean.
Pippy and Wally watched Octavia go until they could see her no more. Pippy hung her head and was about to cry when something caught her eye. Something that glittered on a rock in the shallows before her.
‘Crusty craypots,’ whispered Pippy, and she dropped to her knees.
‘What on earth?’ said Wally, bending over to look more closely. Then he guffawed with his head thrown back.
At Pippy’s feet the golden octopus amulet shimmered in the moonlight. And when she picked it up, it was warm in her hand. She looked up at the sky and out to sea before inhaling. She could feel it. There was something in the air, something in the stars, something in the universe. And it was magic.
Pippy was gliding over the bottom of the seabed. She skimmed over reefs, wove through swaying beds of seagrass and rushed through ribbons of kelp, until she dropped off a steep coral ledge that took her out into the open ocean.
The temperature of the water plummeted and her skin puckered with cold. Pippy knew she was in deeper waters. It was a dark indigo blue but as she twirled, she could still see the twinkling of the stars above.
In a flash, she began to swim in a wide arc and soon she was joined by dolphins and sharks and even minke whales.
Pippy laughed as they all swam together in the same direction. Around and around they swam, then they slowly began to speed up. They were swimming faster and faster, and the circle was becoming smaller after every turn.
Then she saw them. Tuna!
A huge shoal of bluefin were in the middle of the circle. There were hundreds and thousands of them. The jagged spines on their backs glistened in the moonlight and their silver bodies shimmered.
As they swam faster, the circle tightened, and the tuna jostled and jumbled in closer together.
In the next instant, she was reaching out and snatching at the fish. Pippy grabbed as many as she could, stuffing them into her mouth, gobbling them down. She was ferociously hungry, and the fish were delicious. They were as salty and crunchy and fresh and sweet as the sea herself.
When she was full, Pippy let the current pull her along into the moonlit night. She drifted back to sleep with Mussels huffing by her side, and the golden octopus amulet nestled warmly in the palm of her hand.
Much of my work is inspired by real things that happened, and The Keeper of the Octopus is no different.
During COVID lockdowns, I indulged in a good deal of local history and stumbled upon a newspaper article from 1878 in the old Belfast Gazette, the local newspaper of Belfast, Australia, which is now called Port Fairy. This is the town where my family resides and where we have a little Whalers Cottage. The article reads:
In 1878, government diver, Isaac Smale, was engaged in the building of the breakwater in the Moyne River. It was in its depths he came upon a giant octopus that wrapped its arms around Mr Smale’s body, holding him fast before releasing its ink. What followed was a desperate, epic fight that lasted for more than 20 minutes until Mr Smale severed three of the octopus’s arms, freeing himself to re-surface and be rescued.
This legendary story was written about in newspapers all around the world, embracing the mysteries of the deep and the terrors of the ‘devil-fish’, the Kraken and sea monsters. It also featured in the Victorian magazine for children, Chatterbox.
During further research, to my surprise and delight, I discovered that Mr Isaac Smale and his beloved wife, Margaret, had once resided in our dear little Whalers Cottage.
A very big thank you to my family. To my husband, Ian, for his constant enthusiasm and reading all drafts. Thank you to my children for always cheering me on: Lach & Jas & my granddaughter, Heidi; Josh & Mimi; and Toby & Ava. Thank you to my parents, John and Lynette Bade, for our brownie, Ponkidoodle, and for the best childhood ever, one I’ve never grown out of.
Heartfelt thanks to the team at Walker Books Australia, in particular Clare Hallifax and Erin Middleton. Thank you for making my words the best they could be. Thank you to Nicolette Treanor for the design, and the divine cover!
Huge gratitude to teachers and librarians and booksellers and bookshops everywhere – thank you! For putting readers first, and for placing my books firmly into the hands of children.
Neridah McMullin loves animals, true stories and history. An author of twelve books for children, Neridah is also an award-winning short story writer and poet. Her middle grade fiction novel Evie and Rhino was shortlisted for the CBCA Book of the Year in 2023, shortlisted for the Readings Prize and won the Australian Speech Pathology Book of the Year for Younger Readers. Her picture books Drover, Shearer and Tearaway Coach, set during the Victorian gold rush, were published to great acclaim. Her picture book Eat My Dust was a CBCA Notable in 2024. Neridah believes she was born at least 100 years too late. She loves old books, old people and historical societies. She also loves footy, family, walking her dog and meeting other people’s dogs.
The Keeper of the Octopus
First published in 2025
by Walker Books Australia Pty Ltd
Gadigal and Wangal Country
Locked Bag 22, Newtown
NSW 2042 Australia
www.walkerbooks.com.au
Walker Books Australia acknowledges the Traditional Owners of the country on which we work, the Gadigal and Wangal peoples of the Eora Nation, and recognises their continuing connection to the land, waters and culture. We pay our respect to their Elders past and present.
Text © 2025 Neridah McMullin
Cover design and illustration by Nicolette Treanor
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
ISBN: 978 1 760659 53 0
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any other kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury
Neridah McMullin, The Keeper of the Octopus
