Sailmaker Read online

  Barber looks up and grins. In that instant, I wonder if I’ve imagined it all. He looks just like one of the Year 12 guys on the high school bus. Then the image shatters, as he opens his mouth.

  ‘Thought you’d show up. Took ya time.’ He looks real peeved about that, and I start getting worried. I’ve seen a cat play with a lizard. Barber has the same look in his eye, the knife held loosely in his hand. So the door was left open for me. I have to keep him here, so he doesn’t go down and lock it. It’s twenty-five metres down. Will he be bothered? Then he starts talking about the radio. Maybe it’s the sound of my silence, for he stands up suddenly. There’s a slight clang.

  ‘Friggin’ brat. You called, didn’t ya?’ He’s coming for me. Do I tell him it didn’t work? He won’t believe me, not after losing the tinnie. Run? But then he’ll grab Mei again, make me come back. I try something else.

  ‘Careful,’ I say. ‘There’s a ghost in here.’ Surely after all that clanging for a hundred and fifty years and no one getting hurt, the ghost won’t start hurting people now. Mei’s watching me, and I’m trying to look sorry at her, so she’ll know I’m doing it for us. It’s scaring her, I can tell, but if I can spook Barber it might make him forget about the door.

  ‘Ghost, what crap—’ but he sounds less aggressive. He stops. ‘What ghost?’ He’s standing, watching me. He’s too close to Mei. And I tell him the story she told me. I try to make the tinnie in the bay sound like the cutter that was found a hundred and fifty years ago.

  ‘The ghost will be annoyed you tried to copy him.’ I only hope he’s heard the clanging. Then I think of something else.

  ‘Have you been in here before?’

  ‘Nah,’ he answers before he can stop himself. His answer scares him a bit, I can tell, but it scares me too. It wasn’t him doing the clanging then. Maybe there really is a ghost in here. Then I look up at Barber. Right now he’s the bigger problem and I have to do anything I can to get rid of it.

  Barber shakes himself like a Doberman after a nap. ‘That’s stupid crap.’ Then he takes a step back. I’m relieved until I realise he’s up against the door leading out to the landing that circles the light room. ‘I’m going to shut that light. If anyone did hear you, then they won’t find us, eh?’ He giggles a bit and I can tell he thinks he’s really clever. Mei and I just look at each other in horror. This is the worst yet. I take a step up.

  ‘You can’t do that.’ I can hear the drumming in my head, even feel it shaking the ground, all above the wind squealing outside.

  ‘Oh yes I can. Just watch me.’

  Even Mei has a go. ‘No. There are ships out there—’

  I try again. Have to keep calm. ‘You don’t understand,’ I say. ‘This is the route from Port Adelaide. Before this light was here, there were always wrecks in storms like this.’

  ‘What do I care, little boy.’ The sneer on his face makes the horses shake their heads and neigh. They’re coming closer. Closer. I can hear their hooves pounding. They’re almost here. I don’t want them, but I can’t stop them now. Barber’s got his hand on the iron bar of the door.

  ‘All we have to do is wait here. If anyone comes they’ll sail right past, see?’ I watch him pushing the bar down. Sail right past is right. They’ll sail right past into the shoals. You can still see wrecks there at low tide.

  ‘And then I throw you over the edge and wait for the next boat. Easy.’ He reaches for Mei’s arm.

  Something cracks like a whip in my head; suddenly there’s a whole stampede of wild horses – so many I can hardly see Barber through the dust cloud, but I fly at his legs. My arms are flapping like a landed mullet. I shout to Mei to go down. I’m a surprise to Barber, his knife clangs on the stairs. While Barber’s grappling with me, he won’t be able to hold her too. She’s still there, on the step below us.

  ‘Go!’ I shout. Barber will fix me soon, I know it, but at least Mei will be out. If anyone comes she can tell them. And if he goes after her, I hope she remembers the ladder in Vern’s room.

  Barber pushes me off; he’s so much bigger. None of Dev’s tips about protecting myself in an emergency involved narrow steel steps at the top of a lighthouse. The herd’s kicking up their hooves, passing on. I try another rush at Barber but it doesn’t work. He’s got me by the shoulder, pulling me after him through the iron-framed doorway. The wind knocks into us as the door is ripped back against the lighthouse wall. Would anyone be stupid enough to come up here in the rain? Only a keeper in the old days, wanting to keep the light alive. Not like Barber. He only wants to wreck things.

  He’s rattling the lamp-room door. I try again, try to push him away, but he’s like a bike wheel stuck in a rut. He kicks me aside without even looking, and I stagger with the force of it. Maybe the wind is part of it, for suddenly I find myself slipping over the railing. I’m holding on, my feet scrambling for a foothold. There isn’t one, of course. This is an iron-cast lighthouse, no bricks with spaces between them. At least I’m out of the worst of the wind on this side. I look down. Bad move. I can see white water; even in the dark it looks angry. And hungry – waiting for me. Twenty-five metres? Would I survive the fall? Barber hasn’t noticed. Would he even care? Most likely thump on my hands to make me let go.

  The railing’s wet, my grip is slipping. I try for a better hold. I have to get myself up. I try Dev’s way. Talking in my head. You can do it, Joel. You’re not a loser. Hang on. You can do it. I start thinking of all the great times Dev and I have had. That time when he slipped off the rocks at Rogue’s Point. When I helped him out of the water he gave me this hug. I’ve connected to him ever since. Who cares he’s not my biological dad, he’s just the best.

  Then I hear a scream. Not Mei? The wind? I hope Mei can’t see me. At least the wind seems to be dying down. I pretend I’m a little kid, on the monkey bars at school. I used to be able to pull myself up just by my arms. I don’t know where the strength comes from but I’m doing it! Up! C’mon, Joel. You are not a loser, Joel Billings. You can do this. I feel the muscles pull in my shoulders with the effort. Something rips inside. Just a little further. The rail is against my chest now. My arms kill, but I’m nearly there. Up, up. Over.

  I fall onto the landing, and that’s when I see the shadow of Barber Smith in front of the light. He’s in the lamp room, looking for a switch. That won’t last long – he’ll bash it for sure. When he moves, the light flashes out; it’s so bright – how can he stand it? Then it’s off for another ten seconds.

  For a second it makes me hide my eyes and I can hear the clanging. Louder than it’s ever been. There’s nothing more I can do; maybe the ghost is finally coming. It must be midnight. The head keeper will never let Barber Smith smash his light. Then I get up, weary now. I’ll have to help. How will a wispy ghost get the better of Barber Smith? But just as I’m almost to the door, a guy in a wet yellow coat and helmet rushes past. With both hands on a gun. A gun? Then another guy bursts through the doorway with a light, held in the same way.

  ‘Police. Hold it right there, Barber Smith.’ Barber tries everything but those guys are trained. They know all his tricks. He’s fighting mad and all of a sudden he looks above the head of the guy who’s tackling him. His face goes weird, his mouth opens but no sound comes out that I can hear. Barber goes suddenly limp. I look too but there’s nothing there. What did he see?

  Barber’s being taken down the steps as quiet as a kitten when another guy sees me standing there. ‘Joel? Are you okay?’ He’s from Sea Rescue; I recognise the uniform. Then I see who it is – Mr Pengelly. My legs fold up like a paper fan and he catches me – must have been quite an effort getting back over that railing. That’s what I tell myself. When I get down to the bottom of the stairs Dev’s there in Sea Rescue volunteer gear. He just opens his arms and I stagger straight in.

  23

  ‘We would have come sooner,’ Dev says after a while. ‘Had to wait for the wind to drop a bit.’ Apparently a patrol car on the peninsula had picked up my call but
didn’t have a strong enough radio to get a reply back to me. They’d heard, after all. It was them who contacted the local police. Everything started to roll after that.

  The ambulance guys have come too. They’re putting Vern on a stretcher to take him to the peninsula hospital. Mei’s here and gives me this grin, kind of relieved. Though I’m sure that one word doesn’t say what she’s feeling. We both know what could have happened if no one came. She was sitting with Vern when she realised something was going on out there and went to see and led the ambulance guys back to Vern.

  ‘Just to check him out,’ one guy says. ‘He’s had a nasty turn.’ Vern’s got his eye open again. He looks greyer and smaller. Like a half-sucked peppermint, Grandad would have said. He’ll be okay in hospital. Bet they make him join the M club like me; they’ve been checking his heart. I’ll tell him we mightn’t have to take it forever.

  Two Sea Rescue guys are lifting Olsen out of the way. Vern sees and his crook eye waters down his cheek into his beard. The guys don’t want to upset Vern so I quietly point out a good burial spot for later on, overlooking the sea. Olsen used to sit there a lot, just watching.

  ‘Good work, boy,’ Vern says then and I reckon he’s talking about getting the call through. I’m sure he must know my name but I like the way he calls me ‘boy’; it’s a bit like ‘ol’ son’. Dev hears and I can tell he’s proud of me. Mei’s sticking close. I can feel her brush up against me. She’d told them where I was first up. She said Barber was killing me. Says she’s never seen men run up stairs so fast.

  One of the Sea Rescue guys tells me on the way back to the mainland that the clanging in the lighthouse is due to the shifting sand of the shoal. ‘The clanging is the noise the lighthouse makes when it’s vibrating because of the movement below.’ It all sounds so scientific and true, but I wonder – what if the police hadn’t come, and there really is a ghost, would he have let Barber destroy the light?

  Mei tells me what was happening while I was hanging off the railing. Must have been only half a minute, but it’s a half-minute I sure as hell don’t want to repeat, ever. Sea Rescue roared in first, she said, with the first police onboard as well. The tide was high. That made it easier for them to get close to the lighthouse. Mei makes it sound as simple as manoeuvring Dev’s bike in an empty parking lot. The ambulance and the police boats were next. The police have stayed on the island, waiting for the rain to stop so they can search for evidence. And look after Olsen.

  When we get to the house, all the lights are on. Gran’s been crying, I can tell. Zoe too. I take a second look. Yep. Her face is all red and blotchy. There’s this other guy too – we get introduced. Brian. But I don’t take much notice – I’m totally stuffed. Gran actually puts me to bed, like she used to when I was a kid, and you know what? I don’t even have the energy to protest. I can hear all their voices murmuring for ages, like Vern’s marine radio, before I drop off. The last thing I remember thinking about is that groyne wall protecting the island and the keepers’ houses from the hungry tide. As we were getting into the Sea Rescue boat, I saw it. It was still standing.

  24

  The water police turn up from Adelaide in the morning. Star Force. It’s all happening, I can tell you. Our little town’s buzzing louder than the cormorants’ colony out on the island. Barber Smith is formally charged with escaping from custody and transferred to Adelaide Remand Centre. He won’t be chosen for a work unit again. Mr Pengelly reckons guys like Barber give the detention gangs a bad name. ‘Most of them are just trying to do the right thing and change their lives,’ he says.

  It’s all in the papers today – Vern being a hero; he and his dog saved two kids’ lives. No one thinks Vern is crazy any more and they’re all sorry about Olsen. There’s even a picture of Prescott’s mum giving Vern a pup in hospital. I used to think everyone in town used to put their oar in other people’s business, but right now it feels cool how everyone’s ganged together. The pup’s a replica of Olsen. It’d be hard having another dog after one like Olsen. One that talked back to you. Wonder what he’ll call the new one when they’re alone out there on the island.

  The paper will be another thing for Shawn to pick on me about. And that’s when I realise – maybe that’s why his mood turned sour those few weeks ago. It was me who found Vern’s tinnie. He’s never made it into the paper. I check the article; at least this time Mei and I aren’t in it. I wouldn’t blame the Phams if they never let Mei do anything with me again after this – I’m always in trouble. But Dev put his foot down about the paper.

  ‘Those kids just need to get over it,’ I heard him say to the police. ‘Can’t you withhold their names?’ And it worked. Hopefully Shawn may never know. Though if Shawn were to pick on me now about taking pills or spending time with Mei I think I’d just tell him to get a life. Nothing quite beats hanging off a railing twenty-five metres above an angry sea. When I think about last night it reminds me of a gigantic photograph Mr Pengelly has in his lounge – white water pounding on a lighthouse, making it look like a granite toy in the wash of an ocean liner. It’s heaps impressive. Some French guy took it. Must have been in a helicopter. Not hanging from the railing, I hope.

  It’s Easter Sunday and we have lunch instead of breakfast, since I didn’t wake up in time. There’s a little white thing beside my juice. I try not to count how many I’ve missed over the weekend. Gran knows but she doesn’t say. Just watches me like she’s the mother seal that’s finally rescued me off a fast-submerging rock. Guess she’s realised there are more important things than pills even – being alive, for one.

  I tell them everything that happened. Dev’s watching me like I’m his real kid. It’s such a warm sensation; catches me in my gut like I’m about to get a prize. They think I was brave but I can still see Mei’s face – how terrified she was with her fear of ghosts and how she had to stay with Barber Smith, yet she didn’t go hysterical. That might have wound him up the wrong way for sure. How brave was she? Mei was the bravest.

  Brian’s there at the table and he sits close to Zoe. Zoe. Things would be just fine, if only I didn’t have to worry about her. Then Brian and Zoe stand up. I stare. It’s like they’re joined at the hip. He’s even got his hand in her jeans’ back pocket. Not really necessary, if you get my drift. There’s nothing of his in Zoe’s back pocket. I start to see a clear blue sky on the horizon.

  Zoe sees me watching and bites her lip. She glances at Brian and comes back to sit by me. ‘I wanted to tell you before, you know? But I knew it wouldn’t come out right. There was something …’ She doesn’t finish that bit, but I can guess what she was going to say. I haven’t made it easy, but she didn’t know I was afraid of losing Dev. I thought she’d wreck my whole life.

  ‘There is something I want to ask you, Joel?’ She’s nervous, using question marks where you don’t need them. I look at her, trying not to let my eyes flash. We’re still not out of the woods yet; I might have misunderstood Brian. He might be just her very close, hip-hugging friend.

  ‘Would you mind very much if I got married?’ Maybe my eyes have flashed for she looks worried. Marrying is okay, but it depends on who to. Though it’s looking hopeful. Brian obviously cares what’s happening here – he’s standing all stiff and awkward, hanging onto all our words like he’s got no safety rope on.

  ‘Who to?’ I say just to make sure. Zoe’s looking at me as if I’m making trouble on purpose, and then she glances at Brian again. He comes a step closer. He doesn’t look her type – he’s got average hair, short and brown, and no body-piercing in sight. But he’s sure got the hots for Zoe; you can see it oozing out of his eyes when they look at her. I think I grin at that point.

  Zoe sits back. ‘So you don’t mind?’

  Actually I feel like jumping on the table and shouting something significant like haaal-le-lu-jah, from Gran’s Easter CD. But I don’t; I keep eating my chicken burger.

  ‘That’s cool,’ I say. And I smile at Brian. Yep. I def-in-ite-ly could go for Br
ian. Then Zoe says, a bit like she’s putting a toe in a cold wave, ‘Brian could be like a dad to you, Joel.’ She glances at Brian. He looks nervous, poor guy. But I have to tell her plain – Dev’s all I want.

  ‘Dev’s my dad,’ is all I say. Brian can’t help his relieved sigh. He gets embarrassed but Zoe’s all smiles. See? She could have asked me sooner – saved me a lot of sandbagging in my head. But then I wouldn’t have asked Vern about it and he’s done more for me than fix my windsurfer. He’s made me a sail that I can use to tack before any wind.

  Later, when we’re all out the front – Dev, Gran and I – we wave Zoe and Brian off. As Zoe’s little blue Barina disappears with a burst of dust onto the Adelaide road, I turn and catch Dev looking down at Gran. She’s smiling like Mei does at me sometimes when I know she’s just happy to hang out.

  Yep. As the sailmaker says, you just have to ride the storm through – things tend to float right side up sooner or later.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to the Eleanor Dark Foundation for a Writers’ Retreat Fellowship at Varuna Writers’ Centre where the draft of Sailmaker was written. Thank you to Trent, Peter and Pat Bartram for their helpful suggestions and hospitality. My thanks also go to the students of Edithburgh, Parafield Gardens and Victor Harbour Primary Schools and class 7B at Tyndale Christian School; the Edithburgh Museum; Chris Johnson, Stuart Paxton, David Linke; Linley Eagle of Alegayter Sails; Colin Moulden, Robert Penner, Margaret Lineage who first asked, and Antoni Jach for the sailmaker’s eye.

  An account of the keeper’s ghost can be read in an article by Max Fatchen in The Advertiser, 23 May 1992.

  The tale of Tom Bawcock’s Eve is found in Tony Dean and Tony Shaw’s The Folklore of Cornwall, Batsford, London, 1975.

  Glossary

  berley hookless bait

  boom the spar (pole) that stretches the sail from the mast