Scuttling the Nereid

Scuttling the Nereid


No pearls left. The rumour had been darting around the town for weeks. Charlie hadn’t believed it, not at first, but he was coming around as the days passed. No pearls left. Ten days, maybe eleven, since Charlie and his crew had procured a pearl. No pearls left. It could have had something to do with the big commercial boats; the bloated masses that had appeared two, three years ago, pulling up oysters by the hundreds and flooding the town’s market with tiny, half-formed pearls. And now, no pearls were left, neither half nor fully formed. Not a one. Charlie, forty-two, laid-back, relaxed by nature, quiet- even he was getting anxious. He spent hours of every day at sea with his crew diving to the sandy beds in hopes of bringing to the surface those wonderful pearls. Before the big boats, before the dwindling of the stock, Charlie and his crew would bring up maybe five gorgeous, shining pearls, all lustrous ivory gleam streaked with brush-strokes of faint sea-green and lavender. Large as tern’s eggs some had been. Nowadays though… no pearls left.

Charlie stood in his small punt as the sun blazed on the Eastern horizon. The Nereid was old. Her whitewashed timbers were chipping from wear, the small outboard was in constant need of tuning-up, and the broad band of green paint along her hull had long been faded by sun and salt to a tired grey. Charlie waited, as he did each morning, for his crew. Roger, Neil and Abe, as loyal and hardworking as any three fellows could be. Sixteen years it had been since they’d happily christened the Nereid, since they’d been brought up their first pearls. As Charlie loaded the day’s supplies onto the Nereid, the three arrived one by one. Charlie started the motor. The four said nothing, each fearing the words. Charlie could see the huge commercial boats casting off their moorings at the far harbour down the shoreline: the great glistening leviathans that swallowed the seabed in search for the white gold. The men who crewed the beastly things were indistinct, faceless as they bustled about, urging their gluttonous machine forward. Charlie looked away, trying to put it all out of his mind.

‘Neil’s spot?’ he asked. Roger, Neil and Abe shrugged. Charlie set a course for Neil’s spot. The sea rocked the Nereid as she ploughed towards the oyster-laden, sandy bed Neil had discovered early in their searches. It was like mining. You could only guess where a vein might lie, and only time would tell how long that vein would provide. A small plastic bottle they had set up as a discrete buoy years ago marked Neil’s spot. Abe dropped the anchor, and still no-one spoke. In the fruitful past, the time spent in the boat was time spent in conversation and camaraderie. Charlie missed the old days so much it hurt. He doubted very much that they would find anything today. He ignored his doubt and tried to replace it with optimism, but it was a false optimism, one created under duress without any reason behind it. Charlie pulled old rubber goggles over his head, securing them around his eyes. The crew followed suit, placing their knives in their pockets. Unlike other pearl divers of the town, Charlie and his crew did not gather the oysters from the bottom and bring them into the Nereid to find pearls; instead, they opted to open the oysters at the bottom, something they’d mastered ages ago, taking only seconds to pry open handfuls of the creatures. Other bands of divers called them stupid, even crazy for doing so, but the whole crew agreed that it at least felt like they accomplished more with their method, regardless of what others said. Charlie swept off his shirt, pausing for only a split second to consider his ageing body, tanned as leather from so many days under the tropical sun, which, at the moment, was not warm in the least. He knew that by midmorning the day would be blisteringly hot, but he greatly preferred the heat to the chill. Charlie ignored the goose pimples rising on his arms and placed his feet on the gunwales of the Nereid.  One breath, in, out, then the leap. The salt water consumed his body, familiar. After catching a quick breath, Charlie dipped his face back under the waves, having wasted no time in scanning the distant sand bed for precious oysters. He ignored the explosions of bubbles and the riotous flailing of limbs in the edges of his vision that were Roger, Neil and Abe hitting the water. Charlie raised his head for one last breath, deep, and plunged. His increasingly stocky frame belied his impressive speed, and he descended, harpoon-like, straight to the bottom without pause. Ten, fifteen metres. He’d had his eyes set on a cluster of oysters, and now he hovered above them, plucking them with rapid grace from the sand and prying them open, before letting each go in turn, not bothering to watch them sink liltingly back to the sea floor.

All day they dove, risking overexertion and blacking out from holding their breaths for so long at a time. Charlie sometimes saw spots playing over his vision while he was underwater, fading in and out like the television static that plagued the small set at his favourite bar. It concerned him; it even frightened him, as he was getting older and no longer had the constitution of a young man. He said nothing to his friends. And though Charlie risked whatever disaster the spots foretold, they did not find a single pearl all day.

The crew headed to their watering hole as the sunshine faded, sinking behind the landscape in the west. Roger’s brother owned the place, and Charlie nodded at him as they passed. Roger’s brother indulged, sometimes heavily, in his own wares, and that day was no exception as he sat at the bar with all his customers. Charlie sat down with the other three at a cosy booth in the corner. Blues music floated out of a battered radio sitting on the bar, the twang of the guitars sinking in between the staticky bursts of commentating coming from the television perched above the booze. All eyes at the bar fixed themselves upon the black and white images of the American baseball stars, all eyes except those belonging to Roger’s brother, who was concentrating with great consternation upon his drink. Charlie needed to speak.

“So,” he began. None of the other three acknowledged him. “I… I’m not sure how much longer we can go.” Abe took a prodigious swig of beer. “I mean, boys, let’s be honest. I barely scraped by when times were good.” This was true. The others nodded.

“If you were so poor, how come you never quit, Charlie?” Neil asked. “S’matter of fact, how come none of us quit?”  Shrugs. Charlie thought.

“I was happy, I guess,” Charlie answered. “It didn’t seem to matter.”

“What didn’t matter?” Neil asked.

“I don’t know. It just wasn’t a big deal,” Charlie struggled. “I guess it just never bugged me that my apartment was small or that my clothes were worn or that my shoes were old, you know? I could get what I needed, as long as I really needed it.”

“You never looked up at Lusitania Boulevard and wondered why that wasn’t you in a Benz? Or at the fat tourists and wondered why that couldn’t be you goin’ all over the world?” Neil seemed persistent.

“To be honest,” Charlie said, “I thought I had it the better’n any of ‘em.” Neil made a derisive sound.

“I always just liked the work,” Abe piped up over his beer. “It reminded of when we were all kids. Just wake up every morning and swim till you were so tired that you fell asleep on the sand. Remember those days? Remember running home, soaking wet with sand in your pants? Remember skipping school just to lie in the sun and think about all the kids who were stuck inside?”

“Remember picking tin cans and plastic bottles out of the water and taking ‘em to that old guy who’d give five cents a bag, then running across the street and blowing it all on ice cream?” Roger volunteered.

“That’s really all we’ve been doin’ for the past sixteen years, Rog.” Charlie said. Roger and Abe laughed. Neil drank.

“Shame, when you think about it, innit?” Neil asked. The other three fell silent. “Sixteen years picking garbage out of the water for pennies. The smarter kids sold lemonade, five cents a glass. Kept their hands clean and stayed out of the water and look where they are now.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Neil. What are you talking about?”

“Lusitania Boulevard, Charlie, Lusitania Boulevard.”

“You and your Lusitania Boulevard. Screw those cocky bastards on the hill. They’re not happier than you or me.” Roger’s brother heard this and raised his glass.

“Hear, hear. Screw ‘em.” Neil seemed to pause. He then stood up, laid a buck on the table and made to leave.

“Neil! You still haven’t said why you never quit!” Abe called over.  Neil looked over his shoulder as he pushed the door open.

“I don’t know, Abe.” He left.

The remaining three drank silently a little longer. Charlie still hadn’t gotten around to the point he had wanted to make.

“Well,” he began, keeping his voice and face level. “I reckon I’ve got one more go in me. That’s it.”

“What’re you saying, Charlie?” Abe asked. He too kept his face straight.

“I reckon,” Charlie explained, “That if we don’t bring anything up tomorrow, I gotta find steady work.” The other two nodded, slow and sad. Without Charlie, they would be forced to also give up on ‘pearling’. “What are you thinking? Where you gonna work?” Charlie tried to divert the conversation away from himself.

“Sam’ll put me up with work I guess.” Roger said, indicating his brother at the bar, who turned and said,

“Anythin’ for family!”

“What about you, Abe?” Charlie asked. Abe stared deep into his empty beer bottle.

“Don’t know. Heard they’re hiring ditchdiggers again though.”

“Come on Abe,” Charlie said, trying to inflect as much encouragement into his voice as possible. “You? Digging ditches like a teenager? Doubt it. Go for work at the harbour, they’re always hiring.”

“Maybe. But what are you gonna do? Harbour too?”

“Well…” Charlie tried to make something up on the spot but could come up with nothing. He could not think of anything besides the docks. In truth, he had not been thinking about his own future, being far too preoccupied in worrying about his friends.  He didn’t want to compete with Abe for a job, so he abandoned the harbour. “I think someone up on Lusitania needs a lawnmower. I could do that.”

“Cocky bastards.”

“You said it, Sammy.”
Charlie could not help noticing things the next morning. Every familiar sensation, taken for granted for sixteen years, was leaping out at him as if it was of utmost importance to engrain everything as firmly as possible into his memory. The brisk morning draughts coming in off the water smelled as they had for as long as he could remember, but today, today they seemed extraordinary. The gentle, cool scrunching of sand between his bare toes as he walked towards the Nereid¸ which was pretty as ever. What would he do with her when she was no longer needed? She wouldn’t bring much. People have problems putting price tags on sentimental value. Maybe he would bury her, send her off with a grand farewell, a roaring flame to celebrate all that they had done together. Maybe he would simply borrow Sam’s boat, tow the Nereid out into the open ocean and let the current do with her what it would. Let her go. Maybe.

Charlie was afraid Neil wouldn’t show, but true to form he arrived as always. They did not speak again. Abe filled Neil in on what would happen, what the end of the day might bring. Charlie tried not to think about it, instead concentrating on where they would spend their last day at sea together. He couldn’t decide. He released the throttle, slowing the boat to a gentle troll.

“Where do we go, boys?” he said.  The Nereid bobbed gently as the men thought.

“Your spot, Charlie.” It was Neil who spoke. The rest of them gave a subdued laugh. Charlie’s spot was the most beautiful, most heavenly place any of them had ever seen, above or below the surface. Unfortunately, there had never been oysters there. Charlie’s spot was the only place where they’d consistently failed to find anything, even in the good days.

“Naw, I don’t think so, Neil. What about off the point, there, that was always a big haul.” He looked over his shoulder at the point. A huge, white vessel was already scouring the bottom.

“I’m serious, Charlie. Your spot. I’ve got a feeling.” Neil was persistent again. Charlie looked at Abe and Roger. They seemed complacent enough. But going there, to the place where the reef had formed itself into otherworldly arches and caverns, where fluorescent, shimmering coral shone with the brilliance of stained glass, where the sun pierced the waves like it did… where no oysters lived at all. It would certainly be a fine place to end it all, especially on a day like today: no clouds and the barely-risen sun already bat down on their faces with a glorious heat. It would be a guaranteed surrender, there was no hope. But…

“All right. To my spot.”

A lonesome spike of reef struck out from the waves, seemingly in the middle of the sea.  It was a long way off from the coast, which was now only a dark stain on the horizon. Charlie secured the Nereid  to the spike before getting ready as he always did. His goggles secure, his bathing suit laced tight and his knife safely in his buttoned pocket, Charlie dove into the warm water and was immediately rewarded with a sight still identical to the vision he held in his memory: The spike shot straight down ten metres into the water onto a deep reef bed, which lurched and hooped around itself like some delightfully twisted knot. All across this reef, corals of lurid violet, purest amber and fiery red grew in a garden that Charlie knew hid creatures of astounding beauty and strangeness. A quick breath at the surface and smile shot at Neil, and Charlie was plunging deep, taking in every sight his overwhelmed eyes could register. He scanned the reef, unsurprised that no oysters were to be seen. After that first dive, his attempts to find pearls quickly became half-hearted: it was clear that nothing had changed since their last outing to Charlie’s spot. Charlie didn’t mind. He felt resigned to the fact that even if they tried their most productive hunting grounds, they were unlikely to find anything, and if they did, they would eventually return to the same situation they were in now. Knowing this full-well, Charlie decided to make the most out of a perfect day. Abe and Roger got their fill of the underwater scenery, and slept with their hats over their faces in the midday sun. Charlie knew better. For fifteen minutes, starting just after five in the afternoon, the sun knifed through the water, a blazing red-gold, and if one was to swim, deep, deep into the caverns of the reef, that person would discover a chamber, otherwise hidden from the light of day, lit up by the rare sun in a brilliant display of natural awe. Charlie discovered that once, many years ago. This would be the first time since his discovery to see it again. Charlie waited for five o’clock.

The sun was sinking, ever faster, and Charlie dived, knowing it was time. As he propelled himself downwards, Charlie caught a glimpse of Neil still trying to find an oyster. Charlie ignored him. The entrance, where… there. A tiny crevice, which looked far too small for something Charlie’s size to swim through. Charlie knew better than that, though. Turning his body, just like he did when he was seventeen, he slid through the opening and found himself in a small cavern. Now through a small gap between the reef and the sand bed. Charlie wriggled through, with some difficulty. It was dark now, but Charlie waited, his well-trained lungs not even close to exhaustion. He guessed he had about two, maybe two and a half minutes before he needed to get to the surface. A hole led into the cavern from the outside, which was terrifically wide but impossibly narrow. Then, the sun sank that last nudge, and through that long fissure in the rock the golden red light flowed into the chamber, seemingly slowed by the water, taking its time. Charlie smiled, ignoring the trickle of salt water that slipped between his lips. The chamber was better than he remembered. Great spiralling stalagmites and stalactites, whiter than the sand on the beaches, shone like marble in the light. Small, violently coloured fishes emerged in reverence of the rarely-seen sun. Charlie revelled in his secret, the time since he’d last visited at seventeen evaporated, and it seemed as if the eyes of that which men call God gazed upon him and him alone in his private cathedral. And then, disaster struck.

Through the crack in the rock, Charlie spotted Neil, drifting through the water, undisturbed, unhurried and unconscious. The blood in Charlie’s veins turned cold, and he whipped around through the water as the light in the chamber died and he hurried to extricate himself from between the reef and the sand. Then he was out, flying upwards through the crevice and into the open water in time to catch a glimpse of Neil drift out of sight behind the great spike of the water. Pumping every muscle in his body to its utmost limit, Charlie surged through the water in desperation to reach his dying friend. Not like this… Neil had been under a long time, and had probably passed the point of no return: before blacking out, free divers often felt as if they could hold their breath forever…

Meanwhile, Charlie’s vision worsened as the spots appeared, mocking him as his lungs burned. He had reached Neil, and Charlie wrapped his arms around Neil’s lanky frame and kicked as hard as he possibly could. He had almost reached the surface… something large, white and shiny slipped from Neil’s limp hand. It couldn’t be… Charlie almost forgot about Neil as he watched the perfectly round, alabaster pearl slip through the water. Maybe it was his imagination, but Charlie didn’t think he’d ever seen one so large, so perfect… for one horrible second, Charlie almost let go of his friend in order to chase the pearl. But no…

“Roger! Abe!” Charlie spluttered as he broke the surface.  The two sprung to action as though they’d been expecting trouble; Roger jumped into the water and helped Charlie push Neil towards Abe, who hauled him into the Nereid and immediately began trying to save his life. Charlie and Roger scrambled back into the boat after, watching anxiously as Abe performed textbook CPR. Soon, Neil was coughing and heaving up saltwater, taking great gulping breaths. Charlie too was exhausted beyond measure, collapsing against the boat’s gunwales. Looking up, he saw the first star flitter in the evening sky. That single pearl could have paid their dues for another month, at least. But it was getting dark. Charlie was far too tired to go down again. When Neil seemed calmed and recovered, Charlie asked the question.

“Neil… that pearl. Where’d you find it?” Abe and Roger looked back and forth between the two.

“Hey Abe,” Neil said. “Yesterday, you asked me why I didn’t quit, not after sixteen years of picking garbage out of the sea, for pennies…”

“Yeah? What’s that got to do with anything?” Abe replied.

“They say one man’s garbage is another man’s treasure.” And with that, Neil turned out his pockets. Twenty-two pearls, all lustrous ivory gleam streaked with brush-strokes of faint sea-green and lavender, far larger than any they’d seen before, all spilling across the aged ribs of the Nereid’s hull.