Raphael sat in his boat in the dark with a slack line. A few late lights burned along the shore, the only buildings he could see were the copra sheds at East Point, shadowed against the palms.
They were owned by a company called Chagos Agalega: the buildings, yards, plantations beyond and the railway. Raphael and Georges’ work for them involved cutting coconuts, planting young palms and clearing undergrowth with hoes and machetes (owned by the company). They were paid in food, medical expenses and a small cash sum, banked for them by the company.
As Raphael ran a finger down his line he didn’t want to think about work. He envied old men who could fish all day like his father had done in the last years of his life. Too old to be useful in the jungle he had taken to the lagoon and hardly come ashore. Insisting that one day his son would overtake his footsteps and fish all day without needing to work for Chagos Agalega, he had taught the boy to swim.
Raphael had taken to the water like a bucket. He had no coordination, and it took him months to swim a yard. He couldn’t tell his legs to kick without the rest of his body thinking it was time to sink. His father almost lost patience with him many times, but was a drinking man and, in the end, didn’t care if his son couldn’t sort himself out. But Raphael had been stubborn early, and swore at his father inside. He would prove he could swim. He practised secretly and then bet him he could swim from a jetty to some rocks.
‘You’ve got nothing to bet with!’
‘I have.’ Raphael showed his father a collection of shells.
‘I could pick things like that up any time. Look! There’s some here.’
‘But these are mine!’
Raphael’s father had stared at his boy. He narrowed his eyes and farted. He took a coin out of his pocket and put it on a rock. ‘That,’ he said, ‘against the shells. Go!’
Raphael swam the distance and bought a cake with his winnings. He carried it hidden up his shirt with his head down, and ate it all alone, in a glade outside Marianne.
Raphael was shaken out of his thoughts by a bite. Something small grabbed the bait and he took the strain. It wriggled free then, and the line went slack.