Thirteen

I shoved the tiller hard, sending us toward the bank as soon as we were out from under the bridge.

"What are you doing?" Tony hissed as the boat heeled over dangerously.

Captain Henderson and his crew stared at me, just as I'd hoped, so I sucked in a breath and shouted, "Don't let your men on the bridge. It's ready to collapse." I pointed a shaking hand at the beam and he slipped and slid down the bank to get closer to us so he could see what I was pointing at. His face paled when he saw that I was right. As if to illustrate my point more clearly, a huge chunk of stone fell away from the embankment, splashing into the river and sending our boat rocking.

"Get everyone clear of the bridge. Someone run up to North Fremantle Station and stop the next train from leaving. I'm going to get the engineers on the Reliance and we'll –"

Henderson was drowned out by a tortured scream. The sound a thousand-year-old jarrah tree might have made, knowing it was going to be hacked to pieces and cast into the hell Merry's church priest talked about. Or a beam from that same tree ripping apart under the stresses of storm, flood and too much weight over the bridge built on top of it.

A gust of wind carried the smell of coal smoke from a steam engine, concentrating as it came closer. I turned and saw a freight train steaming along the track on the south bank of the harbour – headed right for the groaning bridge.

Henderson continued pointing and shouting at people on the far bank, but the wind whirled his voice away upriver, where no one could help halt the approaching train. If the train touched the bridge, the whole structure would collapse.

"Tony, we have to get to the dock on the south bank. Now!" I insisted. He followed my gaze to the doomed train and nodded, yanking on a rope so hard a weaker strand would have broken.

We made it to the middle of the river before the sound of groaning timber and stone splashing into the water drowned out all other sound. The northern end of the bridge tore away from the bank and toppled into the swirling waters below, where we'd been floating in the Star only moments before. The structure seemed to float for a few seconds, before sinking beneath the muddy waves.

A plank bobbed to the surface, perhaps thirty feet downstream, which was quickly carried toward the ocean and out of sight. Glancing up, I saw that the freight train had miraculously stopped of its own accord. The driver hung out of his window, talking to a flagman. Both were gawking and pointing at the bridge that almost claimed his life. And mine.

Shaking and numb, I helped Tony tie up at the dock. In yet another first, I allowed him to assist me out of the boat. He pushed his way through the crowd of sightseers – armed with cameras again, as if they knew what was going to happen. But they couldn't have, I reasoned. If anyone had known, that last train would never have crossed the bridge. I followed close behind him.

A resounding crash of steel on stone made me flinch, followed by a second. Tony turned his head to look, but I kept my eyes firmly on Merry's house ahead. "What was it?" I asked dully.

"The fettlers' sheds. Where they keep their tools for fixing the bridge. Kept, now they're gone. All washed down the river to the sea now." He laughed. "Maybe the fish will fix it and use it on the seabed."

I smiled wanly at his joke and continued trudging up the hill. If I stopped, I'd fall to the ground and cry.

Merry stood on the veranda, but she was so intent on the bridge that she barely noticed us until we stood beside her. "Oh, my," she cried. "You've just missed the most horrifying thing I've seen all year. The rail bridge collapsed!"

Tony grimaced. "We know. We were the last boat to ever sail under it. It came down just after we were through."

Merry dragged her eyes from the bridge to us, concern in every muscle. "Are you all right? Are you hurt? Oh, I hope no one was hurt. A train had just steamed across the bridge, too – I heard it just before all the screeching."

"No, we're fine. The bridge missed us and there was no one on it when it broke."

My mouth was too dry to speak, so I just nodded slowly as Tony told the story.

"It's a miracle no one was hurt!" Merry insisted. Her hand fluttered over her heart.

Tony glanced at me. "No, not a miracle at all. It was her." He jerked his thumb at me. "While we were under the bridge, she saw the damage and told one of the rail workers up the top. They had time to stop the trains and get everyone off the bridge before it fell. And then Maria insisted we had to come to the dock. If we'd stayed where we were, the whole bridge would've come down on the Star and smashed it like so much kindling..."

"I'll go make some tea, shall I?" Merry said, not waiting for an answer. I followed her inside, but Tony stayed on the veranda, watching the disaster unfold further.

Instead of helping her, like the vague voice in my head said I should, I sank onto a kitchen chair. I wanted to be hugged and held and told that I was all right. Like William had. He would have warmed my heart with his reassurance as he warmed my body with his. Instead, Merry silently set a cup of tea on the table beside me and carried hers and Tony's out to the veranda.

Neither of them had touched me. Both were kind, demonstrative people – I'd seen them hug and kiss others. But never me. It was as if a cold distance separated us.

You're not one of them, my mother's voice whispered in my memory.

No, I wasn't. I was me. One of the people of the ocean's gift and I was a danger to the humans around me. The bridge would still be standing if it weren't for me. But had I left with Mother last night, people would have died. The fettlers. The people on the freight train. The avid photographers who even now were climbing over the dangerous remnants of the bridge.

If I wanted to continue to help these people, I needed to choose one to mate with. To love. And the only one I wanted was William.

A cheer rang out from the onlookers outside. I forced myself up from the chair and carried my tea out to the veranda. "What happened?" I asked.

Merry glanced at me and smiled. "The signalmen are trying to keep the telegraph cables from falling into the river. They've rigged up new posts on each bank, but the soil keeps crumbling away, so they've had to move them back already and I think they'll have to do it again soon. One of them hung upside down from the bridge wreckage, like some sort of monkey, and managed to catch the cable just before a steel girder would have cut it in two. Remarkable."

Another beam splashed into the water and two men began weaving an intricate web of rope around a precariously placed signal. A section of the bank dropped away beneath it, but the signal swung away into empty air – and the ropes held it suspended a few feet above the waves. More cheers erupted from the crowd by the dock.

A clink close by attracted my attention. Tony laid my money bag in the tub on the old washstand, giving me a meaningful look. I nodded. He set his empty tea mug on the scored timber beside it. "I'd best be headed home. Mum will be annoyed if the neighbours hear about this before she does. How many of the snapper do you want?"

I stared at him. Snapper? Then I remembered. "We still have yesterday's wahoo and the dhufish. You take them. Thank you to your family and especially your dad for letting us take the boat out."

Tony nodded. "If it's all right with you, I'll leave the Star tied up at the dock for today. You'll keep an eye on her, won't you?"

Merry promised we would and we both waved as he headed up East Street, whistling.

That night, as Merry heated up our dinner, I slipped into my bedroom and found the small stack of books I owned. Books about Britain's Indian Ocean colonies. And one small volume written by Captain Foster, about 1700 miles he travelled with William in an open boat after the Trevessa sank. I'd read none of them, but now I needed to. And Captain Foster's book I intended to keep for last.

I stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Merry's ever-straight back as she prepared our food. She was old enough to be my mother, yet she had a youth and enthusiasm that belied her appearance. And her eyes...spoke of age and wisdom that even my mother would never have. My short-sighted mother who had threatened the humans I considered my friends. She would not do so again.

"Aunt Merry," I began, waiting for her to glance my way before I continued, "You were right. It is time I let my heart love again. But to do that, I need your help."

"Sure. What do you need?"

Merry was like one of those saints or angels her priest talked about. Always happy to help, before she knew what or why. Even after Tony had told her I had some mystical foreknowledge of the bridge collapse.

I swallowed and set my books down on the table. "I need to learn to read these. I need to know what happened to William so I can find him. He holds my heart, Aunt Merry, and if he doesn't want it any more..."

"Yes?" she prompted eagerly.

"Then I'm going to hunt him down and force him to give it back."