‘In the 1800s, Macquarie Island was considered too remote, too wild and inhospitable even to be a penal colony,’ Jenny said, ‘so it may surprise you to learn there are now well over four million inhabitants there …’ She paused as a baffled murmur ran through her audience. ‘Of course, most of them are penguins.’
She was rewarded with a round of laughter.
Jenny felt a familiar glow of contentment as she looked around the room. The faces there were generally much older than the students in her classrooms back in Sydney, but what mattered was the light in those faces. They were interested in what she was saying. They were learning, and the things that she was teaching them were helping to build an understanding and appreciation of the world around them. This was exactly what she had always wanted from teaching. She was surprised to find such satisfaction in a job she had taken purely from desperation.
‘Four million penguins is a lot of penguin poo,’ Jenny continued, ‘so when you go ashore, make sure you’ve got your gumboots on.’
That got another ripple of laughter.
‘For the English among us,’ Jenny added as she noticed the frowns on several young male faces, ‘gumboots are Wellington boots with Aussie accents.’
Jenny guessed that almost every passenger from the ship was sitting in the lecture hall. She recognised Vera Horsley and Lian sitting together in the front row. Vera’s notebook was being put to good use. The English lads and their teacher were a bit further back. As was Karl. The expedition leader smiled and nodded as she caught his eye. She must be doing all right. The one face that wasn’t there was the one she had most hoped to see. Obviously their encounter in the library had not been enough to entice the passenger from cabin 642 to her lecture.
‘Excuse me, Jenny. Can you tell us about the shipwrecks?’
‘Of course, I can, Vera.’ Who else would have asked that question? ‘And for those of you who think shipwrecks only happened in times of yore – let me tell you that the last ship to run aground where we are heading was in 1987. Would you believe, it was the ship belonging to the Australian Antarctic Research Expedition – let’s hope we do a bit better than they did.’
After the lecture, Jenny stayed back in the theatre, chatting to a few people about the things they would see when they reached the island. Eventually, they all left, heading for the restaurant where a seafood buffet lunch was about to be served. Jenny finished tidying up, then left. Outside the theatre, she stopped at the internet station. The ship’s satellite links gave e-mail access to her wealthy passengers even in the middle of the ocean. Jenny was supposed to use the staff stations in the crew quarters. She’d done that already to e-mail her family and assure them she was fine and having fun. Right now, everyone was at lunch, it would only take a minute to check for new mail … because she knew what she would find.
Nothing.
Ray still hadn’t tried to get in touch. No phone call. No text. No e-mail. There were a few e-mails from her former colleagues, asking about her sudden disappearance. Some even mentioned Ray’s sudden engagement. She wasn’t in the mood to answer them or to talk about Ray. But she did answer the e-mails from her family, assuring them she was fine and enjoying her cruise. She felt guilty about allowing them to think she was on holiday. There was also the matter of Christmas and her absence from the family dinner to mention. But not today.
Jenny logged out of her account and headed up the stairs to deck seven. She wasn’t really in the mood for lunch and after an hour and a half of talking, she needed a little peace and quiet. Time to herself. She emerged on the deck, taking long deep draughts of the fresh crisp air. The ship had come a long way south since she boarded, and it was noticeably cooler. Jenny made her way towards the back of the ship, and leaned against the side rail in the relative shelter of the ship’s funnel. She watched the water streaming past. The sea here was a deeper shade of grey blue than the warmer waters she was used to. The waves splashed and foamed at the ship’s side. The ocean so far had been calm, but Jenny knew there were stormy waters ahead, when the ship reached the southern ocean. She had shown no signs of seasickness yet … and with luck she would escape that particular unpleasantness. She appeared to have found her sea legs quite easily.
This running away was easier than she had thought. Because that’s what she was doing. Running away from Ray, and the pain he’d caused her. Running away from the image of his pregnant fiancée and her own self-disgust. That last bit wasn’t proving too easy. It wasn’t that she was hoping for some sort of reconciliation. She wasn’t. All she wanted was some small sign that Ray missed her. That her leaving had caused him some distress. Even a tiny twinge of remorse? Would an e-mail or a text have cost him so much? Did he even realise she was gone? And maybe he was pleased that she was.
Jenny sighed.
She leaned even further forward to look down into the water. Why couldn’t she have a Titanic moment? Some Leonardo DiCaprio lookalike should come dashing forward about now to save her from jumping into the ocean in a fit of despair. Not that she would jump, of course. The water looked far too cold … but it would be nice to think someone would rescue her if she tried …
Suddenly, a face emerged from the waves, dark eyes smiling up at her. A large black and white body curved free of the waves, arched and then plunged back in to disappear as quickly as it had come.
A dolphin? Here. They were a bit far south for dolphins … unless …
She leaned ever further over the rail, her eyes searching the water. She was rewarded a few seconds later as another dolphin broke the water, leaping upwards, water droplets surrounding him like silver confetti.
‘You are an hourglass dolphin!’ Jenny shouted at the sea creature which seemed to pirouette in mid-air, laughing as it splashed back into the ocean.
A few seconds later, she saw another. They were hard to tell apart, each one dark, with the white curved body colouring that gave the species its name. But Jenny soon decided there were four of them, keeping pace with the ship, darting in and out of the waves … and laughing with her.
Hourglass dolphins were among the rarest creatures in southern waters. Only a handful of scientists had ever seen one. And now there were four of them … playing with her ship. Playing with her.
‘You are beautiful,’ she called to the dolphins, laughing as they ducked and dived, full of the simple joy of being alive. The joy was contagious.
Jenny looked around her, but there were no other passengers on the sun deck. They were all inside, eating their sumptuous lunch. She should go and get them. Or at least tell the captain to make an announcement. That was what she was here for. And the other thing she should do was fetch her camera. So few photos of the hourglass dolphin had ever been taken. This was a career opportunity.
She hesitated, and looked down at the creatures taking a few more moments alone with them.
‘Now, don’t you lot go away!’ she told them, and sprinted for the stairs.
The passenger from cabin 642 watched her go. He hadn’t meant to spy on her, but the top deck where he had sought his own solitude overlooked the deck below. He’d seen her come out into the sunshine. Seen her leaning over the railing, and for one terrible moment, he’d thought she was going to jump. How well he knew that kind of despair. He’d opened his mouth to call to her … to stop her, but then he’d heard her laugh. Her laugh had carried up to him on the sea air and curled its way into his very soul. The joy in that laughter was something he had not heard or felt for a very long time.
He held his breath as if to stop time.
When she turned for the stairs, he recognised her as the girl from the library.
‘Jenny.’ He remembered. At the time he’d thought her a pretty girl – but he had long since become immune to pretty girls.
He closed his eyes recalling the sound of her laugh and the way her dark hair had danced in the wind. He had almost felt her pleasure as the dolphins broke through the water. It was as if a promise of light had flared after far too long in the darkness.
He felt it then – the emotion … the urge he hadn’t felt in such a long time. His fingers ached with it. He opened his eyes, looking out over the waves. The dolphins were gone. He had to go too. Now. Before he lost that feeling. He had to get below before she returned with people around her to break the spell. He turned and walked quickly away.
Jenny sprinted back up the stairs, her camera in her hand. Karl was a few steps behind her. If the dolphins were still there, he would make an announcement over the ship’s intercom, calling the passengers to witness the rare sight. Jenny was bubbling over with excitement, but as she reached deck six, she glanced down the corridor, past the passenger cabins towards the rear of the ship. This passing glance had become a habit these past few days, and this time, she was rewarded. She missed her footing, and stumbled.
‘Are you all right?’ Karl reached out a steadying hand.
‘Yes. Fine.’ Jenny risked another quick glance down the corridor, but the figure she’d seen had vanished through the door into the owner’s cabin. Damn! She didn’t have time to give it any more thought, she darted up the rest of the stairs and out onto the sun deck. Pulling her camera from its case, she took up her previous position on the ship’s rail, thinking as she did how much more exciting marine biology was in the field, rather than the university. Maybe when she returned from this cruise, she should rethink her career choice.
‘Where …’ Karl said beside her.
‘Just here. Alongside the ship,’ Jenny replied, her eyes searching the waves for the tell-tale curve of a fin or a sleek body.
They waited for two minutes. Three. After five minutes, Jenny let her camera fall in disappointment. ‘They must have gone.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘They really were here, Karl,’ Jenny said. ‘Hourglass dolphins. Honestly!’
‘Hey. I believe you,’ Karl said. ‘If we’re lucky, they might come back. If nothing else, it’s a good omen at the start of the trip.’
‘I guess so.’ Jenny felt her mood slipping.
‘Cheer up,’ Karl said as he walked away.
Jenny took one last glance out to sea, hoping against hope that her rare friends had returned. Nothing. Her only companions were the ever-present gulls, circling in the wake of the ship.