“I don’t understand.”
Mr. Roberts seemed to speak for them all. Everyone, including those who had gone to the beach to set up for the picnic, had returned to the boat. They were gathered now on the deck, the net bag had been carefully placed into the fishing boat’s live well, and the last of the living seadragons had been gently lifted out by Mrs. Roberts and Sarah and returned to their natural habitat.
But most of the tiny, delicate creatures were dead. They must have been stuffed very roughly into the bag, or crushed to death as the man had hauled the bag around behind him as he searched for more of the wonderful little pipefish.
“I just don’t understand,” Mr. Roberts repeated. “If he was taking them to sell to collectors, why would he not be more careful? He must have known he was killing them.”
“It’s so cruel,” Sarah said, her voice breaking.
“What exactly happened down there?” Mr. Roberts asked Nish. “Why would he attack you?”
Nish seemed near tears himself. There were huge red welts about his neck and shoulders where the man had wrestled with him. His voice was choked when he spoke, and his hands shook.
“I lost sight of Trav and Wiz,” Nish said uncertainly. “I tried to catch up to them, but they were after that turtle and I lost them in the seaweed. So I just circled back, heading for the boat. And when I got into the shallow water I came up behind this guy – I thought it was you, Mr. Roberts – and when I started swimming fast towards him, he turned. He must have thought I was attacking him or something.”
“Why would he think anyone was attacking him?” Travis asked. “He must have been doing something that he shouldn’t have been doing.”
“Obviously,” said Mrs. Roberts. “He was killing these little things for no reason at all.”
“How did he get here?” Wiz asked. “You can’t swim here from the mainland.”
“There was a boat on the other side of the island,” Mrs. Roberts said. “We saw it from the beach.”
“What kind of boat?” Mr. Roberts asked.
“I’m not sure,” Mrs. Roberts said. “I think I might have a picture of it, though. I was using the video camera, and I think I might have panned it.”
“I’ll look later,” Mr. Roberts said. He seemed dejected. What had been planned as a wonderful adventure suddenly had a sour taste to it.
Travis looked down at the tragedy the man had left behind. The little seadragons didn’t look like they could ever have been real. Lifeless, they no longer contained the magic that Travis and the others had felt. They seemed like something grade-school kids might have made with pipe cleaners, a little bit of soggy green paper, scissors, and glue.
Why would the man do this? Travis wondered.
It made no sense at all.
They cruised back in silence. No rock music and very little talk, except for what was necessary. Travis grew sleepy with the growl of the engine and the steady slap of the waves on the bow of the Robertses’ boat. Sarah sat with the seadragons, carefully lifting them one by one, smoothing out each one and holding it in the palm of her hand before she slipped it over the side, giving it its own private burial at sea.
Nish didn’t look so good. So far, for him, Australia had been a series of stomach upsets. He had thrown up after seeing the head burped out of the Great White – “food poisoning,” he still maintained – and his stomach was once again rolling like the sea. He had moved as far forward as possible, leaning directly out over the bow and trying to look far into the distance, avoiding the steady tilt and drop and tilt again of the ocean.
“You all right?” Wiz asked him.
“Fine,” said Nish, with a look that said otherwise.
“I’ll get my dad to pull closer to shore,” Wiz said. “If you can fix on the shoreline, you’ll feel better. It works for me.”
Nish nodded, gathered his strength, and spoke again. “Can he get real close?” he said, pausing to let his bucking stomach settle again. “And can I have the binoculars back?”
Wiz stared a moment at the green-gilled visitor. He shook his head in amazement.
“You’re not sick at all, are you?” Wiz finally said, smiling.
“You’re wrong on that one,” Sarah said.
Wiz hadn’t seen her come up behind them. She was also checking on Nish.
“Sick is the only way to describe him.”