“This is Jarra Bay Marine Rescue. Copy, AIS387 November. Can you go to channel sixteen?”
Martin switched channels. I watched his movements like a hawk. If something happened to Martin out here, I wanted to know how to call for help.
He keyed the radio. “This is AIS387 November. We’re heading out from Bonny Bay to fish the FAD. But if I hear that the fish are going off at the shelf, I’ll call in again before we head over that way. Over.”
I swallowed and looked out over the Tasman Sea. Clouds were gathering along the horizon to the east.
“Copy, AIS387 November. Estimated time of return?”
“About four p.m.”
“Righteo, sixteen hundred. How many on board?”
“Two adults on board.”
The boat lolled and was sucked on a massive backwash swell from the cliff. Water slapped at the hull. Martin steered our prow to face the direction of the swells so they wouldn’t hit us broadside. We entered the shadow cast by the cliff. The voice on the radio started breaking up.
Martin signed off. He eyed me. My heart pounded. I waited for him to say he was not trying to kill me, or terrify me to death. He didn’t. I didn’t provoke him further, either, because it struck me how alone we were out here. Nothing but sea in all directions. I was at his mercy. No one would know if I fell overboard or was pushed. I swallowed and looked away.
“Hold on,” he said.
Before I could register, he suddenly increased engine power, angling our prow into the incessant swells. Wind increased as we continued to gather speed. I held my ball cap down on my head. He engaged full steam ahead, and the bow rose and bashed forward against the swells, again and again and again, like they were made of concrete. The regular beat of the impacts jolted through my bones, through my jaw. Through my brain. I clenched my teeth and tried to brace my body in ways that would lessen the force as we thump, thump, thump, thumped for miles straight out into the ocean, each smack rattling my kidneys. Wind drew tears from my eyes.
I looked back. Jarrawarra Bay, the headlands, the orange cliffs, were all vanishing away into a pale blue haze over the landmass that was Australia. He saw me looking.
“See those hills north of Jarrawarra?” he yelled and pointed. “That’s the mouth of the Agnes River up there. Boaters can go all the way up the inlet to the sales office from here.”
Land vanished completely into the hazy mist. Then there was nothing but heaving swells ribbed with foam as the sea went from gray green to a deep cobalt.
A few terns wheeled up high, and an albatross began following our boat.
The boat lurched. I opened my eyes a crack. My lids were swollen. My lips thick with salt. I was on the bottom, lying on my side. Bottles—wine cooler empties—rolled around me.
I heard a yell again.
“Ellie!”
I blinked and tried to get up. I fell as the boat rocked. I was drunk. I was going to throw up. The bow was rising and falling dramatically on the passing sea.
“Ellie! Help me, for God’s sake!”
I turned my head, saw Martin. Shock slammed through me. He had his rod base rammed into the leather holder belted around his waist. The top of the rod was bent almost double as he fought a massive fish. The line screamed as the fish took line and dived in an effort to flee. I watched in a confused daze, trying to figure out what was going on. When the fish seemed to tire, Martin began to furiously wind it in again. His brow dripped with sweat. His face was red.
How long has he been at it? How long has he been yelling to wake me?
“It’s foul-hooked. Grab the net, Ellie, for God’s sake!”
I looked around the boat.
He swore viciously. “Bring me the fucking net! It’s in the side compartment there, with the gaff. Bring the gaff, too.”
I scrambled up onto my hands and knees and reached for the net. I gripped it with one hand, and with my other I pulled myself into a standing position. The boat pitched and lurched violently back and forth. Martin had let go of the controls. We were going in a circle, and the waves were beginning to hit us broadside. I clung to the targa bar for balance as I held the net out to him. But the boat