Radio announcers warned people to stay indoors, not to venture out unless absolutely necessary.
But here, down south, it was warm enough for her to sit outside—albeit with her thick jacket on—and the day was calm, only a light onshore wind to ruffle the gulls’ feathers.
She had stayed at a bed and breakfast to the north of the quay the previous night and her landlord had told horror stories of seasickness when the shallow-bottomed boat got under way in anything more than a slight swell. She was happy to see flat conditions that morning for the two-and-a-half-hour voyage.
As per her brief, she would map the locations of the venus clam (Rachel preferred not to think of it as warty, it was merely bumpy, with pretty frilled rings, rather like a crinoline petticoat, judging by the photographs she’d studied), noting the differences in numbers and size on the larger islands compared to the more remote ones. There would almost certainly be a difference—she well knew that small marine creatures such as these were some of the first indicators of the effects of global warming and pollution. She would then compare her data with that of the study that had been undertaken five years previously.
Dr. Wentworth had given her a list of locations where the previous observations had been carried out and she had studied them before she left London. Tooth Rock, Droopy Nose Point, Monk’s Cowl, Darrity’s Hole, Paper Ledge, Bread and Cheese Cove . . . the names sounded delightfully, eccentrically English and she looked forward to exploring them, even if she was less certain about Hell Bay and Cuckold’s Carn.
When she had arrived in Penzance, she’d made her way to a dive shop and fitted herself out with a dry suit and a new mask and fins. She didn’t expect to be doing much diving, but would certainly need it for snorkeling. She had also purchased waders, an incongruous rubber apron-and-boot combo that made her laugh at herself in the mirror when she tried them on.
Glancing at her watch, Rachel saw that she had about fifteen minutes before she was due to check in. She finished her drink, paid the bill, hauled her backpack onto her shoulders, and lifted the new suitcase bought to accommodate her recent purchases.
After checking her luggage and boarding the ferry she found herself a seat on deck, staring at the slate roofs of the mainland and feeling the throb of the engines beneath her as they got under way. The light was soft, the colors muted, as if someone had turned a dimmer switch down. It was a far cry from the golden haze of the South Pacific, the rich greens of the taro leaves and the brilliant colors and intoxicating fragrances of the tiare flowers . . . cream and yellow frangipani . . . She squashed the thought that she might have been hasty in her decision to come so far, to the other side of the world where everything seemed so unrelentingly gray. She pushed her earbuds into her ears, pulled her beanie down over her hair, and turned up the volume. Unsentimental rock blasted through any lingering doubts.
* * *
When the ferry docked alongside the quay at Hugh Town, the main port for the Isles of Scilly on St. Mary’s, which was also the largest island in the group, Rachel was surprised. The journey had passed without incident, she’d not felt the slightest twinge of nausea. In fact she’d been on rougher trips on the Manly ferry, which plied its way from her northern beaches home across the harbor to the heart of Sydney.
She hadn’t been able to see much of her surroundings as, almost as soon as they had left the mainland, a light misty drizzle had begun to fall, obliterating the landscape. She had no idea in what direction they were traveling. Despite the weather, she had remained outside—the only passenger crazy enough to do so—and tipped her face to the elements, feeling a little rain drip inside her collar and snake its way down her neck. The thrill of a new adventure quickly displaced her earlier misgivings.
As she disembarked, she noticed a number of smaller fishing vessels at anchor in the bay. The ferry had docked behind a bright yellow and green catamaran with the word Ambulance emblazoned across its hull in enormous letters. She could see a man and a woman in green uniforms loading a patient onto the wharf and into a wheelchair and stopped for