There was a note waiting at the front desk for Sarah and Travis when they came down for breakfast the next morning:
Dear linemates!
My dad is taking the boat out today. We’ve room and snorkelling equipment for the three of us and four more. Check with your coach – my dad has already called.
Wiz
“Seahorses!” Sarah shouted. “Finally, I’m going to get to see real wild seahorses!”
She ran straight back to her room to tell the other girls. Travis figured he should check first with Muck. The Screech Owls coach said he had indeed got a call, and there was no problem with it as far as he was concerned. Wiz’s father, it turned out, was a former NHL player, Des Roberts, who’d ended up working in Australia helping build ice surfaces, and now lived here permanently. Muck and he had even known each other back in junior days.
“He’s fully certified for diving,” said Muck. “So’s his wife, and she’s going along, too. So off with you – and enjoy yourselves.”
Wiz had said there would be room for Sarah and Travis and four more. Sarah was bringing Sam and Jenny. Travis figured he’d ask Fahd and Nish.
“Snorkelling?” Nish said, rolling the word around his tongue like it was something a pig wouldn’t swallow.
“Yeah,” Travis said. “C’mon. You took that course – here’s your chance.”
Nish shrugged. The previous winter Travis had talked him into signing up for scuba lessons at the local pool. Sarah had taken the lessons too, and though all had learned how to use air tanks well enough to pass the course, none of them had dived anywhere but in the pool.
“I’m up for it!” shouted Fahd.
“We have to go out in a boat?” Nish asked.
“Get real,” Travis said, losing his patience. “You want us to swim out the harbour?”
But Travis knew what Nish was getting at. He really did have a weak stomach. He didn’t like heights. He didn’t like being at sea.
But Travis knew how to get him. “Sam’s going,” he said. “You wouldn’t want her to think you’re chicken, would you?”
Nish reddened a bit, then suddenly brightened. “What about snorkelling at Bondi Beach?” he suggested.
A horrific picture formed immediately in Travis’s mind. Women out for a topless swim suddenly screaming and racing for shore, everyone convinced it must be a shark – until the big, sunburnt back of a snorkelling Nish rises from the waters, grin wider than his face mask.
“We’re going farther than that,” said Travis. “Grab your suit and let’s get going.”
Nish didn’t move. He seemed undecided.
Finally, he headed over to his pile of clothes on the floor, kicked several times at the heap, reached in deep, and came up with his beloved Mighty Ducks of Anaheim swimsuit. It was a piece of clothing, Travis noticed, that Nish far preferred to throw off than pull on.
They took off from the marina at Mosman Bay, almost directly across the big harbour from the Opera House. Mr. Roberts had a beautiful boat. It was pure white, with sleeping quarters below for eight, a small galley for cooking, and even a tiny washroom. The boat was outfitted for deep-sea fishing and cruising, with an elevated bridge for the controls and a high antenna for radio communication and navigation. It was called Puck, a name that Travis figured would have been lost on every person who had ever seen the boat – right up until the moment the Screech Owls came aboard.
Wiz and his parents were great hosts. They had hamburgers and hot dogs cooking on the barbecue on deck, and a cooler full of ice-cold Cokes ready to go the moment they left the marina. The kids ate and drank as the Robertses took turns showing off the various sights. They passed by the Taronga Zoo – Nish claimed he could see giraffes staring out above the trees – and saw where the prime minister and the governor-general lived. Then, with the towering Sydney Harbour Bridge growing smaller in their wake, they headed out through the mouth of the harbour into the open sea, where they turned right – starboard, Travis reminded himself – to travel due south along the high rocks of the oceanside bluffs.
The ocean was rolling. The big boat rode the swells nicely and moved at a good pace. Travis checked Nish, who seemed in fine spirits. He was standing at the bow, the wind blowing his black hair straight back, and he was smiling as he watched the shoreline.
Finally he pointed. “Bondi Beach?” he called up to Mr. Roberts, who was standing on the bridge with Wiz, the two of them consulting a chart.
Mr. Roberts – a big man with large hands and a crooked nose he said proved he’d once played in the NHL – looked up, stared hard towards shore, and then nodded back at Nish.
“You got binoculars?” Nish shouted.
Wiz hurried down from the bridge with the binoculars, holding them out for Nish.
“How powerful are they?” Nish asked. He seemed almost frantic.
“Real good, mate,” said Wiz. “What d’ya want ’em for?”
“Topless sunbathers!” Sam shouted from the other side of the boat.
“You have a mental case on your boat, you know!” added Sarah.
“You’re sure he’s not an Aussie?” Wiz laughed. “He sure acts like an Aussie bloke!”
Nish almost yanked the binoculars away from Wiz. He put them to his eyes, adjusted the focus, and leaned out in a desperate effort to get closer to the fabled beach.
Wiz held on to Nish’s shoulder to make sure he didn’t end up as shark bait.
Nish scanned the shoreline back and forth.
“See anything?” Sam called.
“They’re not strong enough!” Nish whined.
“Sorry about that, mate,” laughed Wiz. “You’ll just have to make do with some topless seahorses, I guess.”
“And they’re the men!” Sarah and Jenny shrieked together.
“Very funny,” Nish grumbled.
“Very, very funny.”