Page 30 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

“I don’t see her like that,” Zoe says. “She could have been taken back to the shipyard and broken up. But she’s been preserved, and she’s a part of the ocean that she sailed on now, in Tangaroa’s arms. She’s home to all those creatures, as if she’s their mother. It’s so quiet down there, and peaceful. I wouldn’t mind if heaven was like that.”

I’m speechless, because she’s described exactly how I feel about the ocean. I don’t see wrecks as lonely and broken, either. They’re mysterious and enigmatic. I’ve never understood why some people are afraid of the sea. I’d live down there if I could.

We have a ten-minute break and munch on a Squiggle—a Kiwi chocolate biscuit or cookie, with hokey pokey or honeycomb bits. By this point, Zoe’s almost jumping and up down, raring to go again.

“Okay,” I tell her, “we’re going to go deeper this time, down to the hold.”

She gives me an excited smile as she gets back into her wetsuit. “I can’t wait!”

“Thirty meters this time. Just for twenty minutes, okay?”

She nods, and before long we’re back in the water, descending once more into the gloom.

A sense of peace comes over me every time I get in the water. Some people are freaked out by the way the water pressure increases as you go deeper, but I’ve always liked the sensation of it, as if the very ocean itself is giving you an enthusiastic hug.

This time we go all the way down to the lower reefs, joining the other two in the hold. They’ve already investigated a good part of it, revealing several crates, although they were unable to work out what the boxes held, as the contents have all decayed, so it was probably foodstuffs.

The four of us work quickly, using the equipment to suck away the silt, and gradually exposing the rest of the hold. By the time our twenty minutes is up, we’re making good headway, and we’re a third of the way through the hold.

I give the thumbs up, and we inflate our buoyancy devices and ascend slowly, pausing five meters down for five minutes before we eventually surface. Once we’re on board, we changeout of our gear, then tuck into the lunch that Emma and Clive have prepared for us.

Zoe’s wet hair is smoothed back from the conditioner, and her face is pink from the cold water, but her green eyes are like essence of the sea, absolutely brilliant. Wow.

She called me Kiwa, a divine guardian of the ocean, which makes her his wife, Hinemoana. Her name translates to Ocean Woman, a personification of the sea, which is a perfect description of her right now.

All right Joel, steady on. I clear my throat and concentrate on the sandwiches, cold pies, and fresh fruit as we talk about how the morning’s gone.

We do two more dives after lunch. Each time, we manage to get further into the hold, although there’s still no sign of the chest we’re hoping to see. Even so, we finish the day cheerful and hopeful, pleased with the small collection of artifacts and looking forward to the next day.

When everyone’s back on board, Clive retrieves the anchor, and we head back to Opito Bay. Clive, Hori, and Emma will be heading home as they live in Kerikeri, and Manu is staying in Kamo up the road with a friend.

“Where are we staying?” Zoe asks me.

“You’re in for a special treat,” Emma states.

“Oh?” Zoe looks at me.

I just say, “Wait and see.”

Her lips curve up, but she doesn’t argue.

When we get to the marina, we transfer all our equipment to Clive’s trailer, change out of our wetsuits and take a quick shower in the marina facilities, and then Zoe and I say goodbye to the others and head for our car.

“I’m shattered,” Zoe says. She’s washed her hair and towel-dried it, and it hangs just past her chin. It’s naturally wavy. I hadn’t realized that.

“Yeah, diving really takes it out of you.” The car crests the hill, but instead of turning back the way we came, this time I turn right, heading for the center of Opito Bay. “Are you too tired for dinner?”

“I’m never too tired for dinner.”

I chuckle. “Maybe we’ll have a short rest, then meet at, say, seven?”

“Does the place have a restaurant?”

“Kind of.” I give a secret smile.

“Mystery man,” she says. “Is it far?”

“No, we’re nearly there.”

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