Page 15 of The Island

“Oh no, poor little things,” Petra said. “But I am sure you are a comfort to them.”

I try, Heather mouthed but did not say.

Matt tried and failed to light a cigarette. Heather lent him her Zippo, and the cigarette caught.

“Is there an Aboriginal heritage here?” Petra asked.

“No. Look, this is not a tourist destination,” Matt insisted.

“We took care of them lot. We did a black line on the bastards,” Jacko said as he and Ivan swapped places at the tiller.

“Black line?” Heather asked.

“You know about the Black Line of Tasmania, of course?” Jacko said.

Heather and Petra shook their heads.

“Two thousand men under Major Sholto Douglas marched across Tasmania to capture all the remaining Aboriginals. Killed the lot of them,” Jacko said gleefully. “They did the same here on Dutch Island soon thereafter.”

“And the dream lines?” Petra asked.

“We had one come here a few years ago spouting that nonsense. Remember that, Matt?” Jacko said.

“I remember,” Matt said.

“He comes here and he tells us that because we have no natives, we’re a land without a Dreaming. The nerve of him. What a bloody fraud. Ma saw right through him. All his talk about demons and bunyips. Ma had me and Ivan chase him off with our shotguns! Should have seen him run!” Jacko cackled.

“Oh, dear,” Petra said and she looked at Heather, whose eyes widened with alarm. Heather’s feeling of unease was growing as the ferry chugged inexorably closer to shore. To distract herself, she watched as Ivan steered the tiller with his foot and cast a fishing line into the water.

“What is he fishing for?” Heather found herself wondering out loud.

“If sharks are here, it’s probably big fish like salmon and tuna,” Petra said.

“Do you fish, Petra?” Heather asked.

“Oh, yes. Hans and I go fly-fishing in Germany,” Petra said. “You?”

“Not anymore. My dad grew up fly-fishing in Kentucky, but, gosh, the real fisherfolk in my family are from my mom’s side. Her mom—my grandmother—grew up on the Makah Reservation. Mom said they could fish anything out of the sea. Whales, even.”

“He better stop fishing now. We’re getting close,” Matt said. “Last chance for the dunny, everyone.”

Olivia tugged Heather’s sleeve. Heather put up her hand like a kid in school. “Is dunny ‘toilet,’ by any chance?” she asked Matt.

Matt grinned at her. “Yeah, mate, just inside the little cabin there. Make sure you turn on the light and check for spiders before you sit down.”

Olivia looked at Heather and shook her head.

“What spiders should we look out for?” Heather asked.

“Follow me, I’ll check for you. Redbacks. Real nasty, they are. Hide under the toilet seat sometimes. Can kill you in some circumstances.” Matt walked over to the tiny little toilet, opened the door, and had a look around. “You’re safe,” he said.

“What the hell is that?” Olivia asked, pointing at a massive spider on the far side of the wall. It was a brown hairy thing as big as her hand.

“Oh, those are harmless. It’s a huntsman spider. Actually, they do us a big favor. Eat the flies. They won’t hurt you,” Matt said.

Olivia was not reassured in the least. “I’ll hold it,” she said.

“Are you sure, honey?” Heather asked.

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