sound of the waves that lashed the beach. He imagined the insects massing into his hut and covering the netting so as to blacken it and suffocate him where he lay.
Outside the door there came the faint rustle of footsteps and he snapped alert from his waking incubus, waiting for the sounds to become those of a man. They remained dim and inconclusive, as if their source was at the core of the insect noise. Eventually they became distant and he fell into deep sleep listening to that which was, or was not, there.
4
At first light the air filled with the buoyant song of birds replacing the pestilential din of insects. From behind the netting Compton aimlessly inspected his body, discovering tiny bites covering much of his feet and arms. Minute bugs scrambled across his chest and belly and he swept them off as though they carried the plague, launching out of bed as if he had been sleeping on an anthill.
He had left the pawpaw on top of the dead refrigerator, believing it would be safe from who knows what and discovered a two-inch hole had been gnawed out by a rat or mouse, or possibly one of those fist sized, yellow bellied, jungle spiders. Hungry and anxious to be out of the insect ridden hut, he walked down to the water’s edge and cut the pawpaw open. The sweet orb of yellow nectar was more delicious than any fruit he could remember eating. Rather than save half, as was his plan, he ate its entirety and threw the rinds over a lava rock barrier that separated Orchid Beach from a small cove to the west. "Let the crabs eat it, or the mice, or the spiders," he said aloud. “Better it than me.”
The azure sky was absent of clouds and a soft breeze blew in from the east. Compton sat at the table drinking lemon grass tea and watching the sparse boat traffic, near and far, pass the beach. Everyone who saw him waved and he self-consciously waved back, feeling foolish and very much the inane tourist.
Midmorning Moses came round the point as Compton was finishing his third cup of tea. Moses, as usual, was all smiles. “Bula, Michael, how was your night? Did you sleep well?”
“The noise from the jungle was incredible. It’s worse than your place.”
Moses gave off a high giggle. “The jungle is like a barking dog, lots of noise but it won’t attack.”
“I was attacked. Take a look at these bites on my arms and legs. I was under siege. The mosquito net didn’t seem to help.”
“No, no, those are love bites, gentle reminders of anher busy world. I bring the repellent from Taveuni, make your nights more restful, eh. I have a gift for you.”
He went to the skiff that floated at anchor just beyond the light shore break and retrieved a large bag and unloaded it on the table. Out poured three pawpaw, breadfruit, a spool of fishing line and several hooks.
“You wish to catch your fish, eh. These reefs have many fish. You make your list for the store and I catch a sand crab for the bait.”
Compton had no interest in fishing with the line but would not sour Moses’ enthusiasm, for he had already leaped from the kitchen table and was over the sea wall, digging for crabs with his toes. “They are crafty buggers. They cover their holes during the day.”
Moving from one spot to the next, he let out an “AAUGGG” sound when he located a cavity in the sand. Reaching down with his arm, well past the elbow, he came up with a golf ball sized crab.
“Squeeze ‘em tight and pull off their eyes.”
He brought the crab over to the table where Compton was working on his shopping list.
“Then you take off his back and inside there are three sections of meat. Each one goes right over the hook. Perfect, see, three on each side. Plenty bait in one crab. That’s all you need, one crab. You catch a reef fish with the crab and use the reef fish to catch the jack or mackerel. All from this one small crab. Amazing, eh! Everything’s right here, but the Indian man buys tin fish when he could catch the fish
Outside the door there came the faint rustle of footsteps and he snapped alert from his waking incubus, waiting for the sounds to become those of a man. They remained dim and inconclusive, as if their source was at the core of the insect noise. Eventually they became distant and he fell into deep sleep listening to that which was, or was not, there.
4
At first light the air filled with the buoyant song of birds replacing the pestilential din of insects. From behind the netting Compton aimlessly inspected his body, discovering tiny bites covering much of his feet and arms. Minute bugs scrambled across his chest and belly and he swept them off as though they carried the plague, launching out of bed as if he had been sleeping on an anthill.
He had left the pawpaw on top of the dead refrigerator, believing it would be safe from who knows what and discovered a two-inch hole had been gnawed out by a rat or mouse, or possibly one of those fist sized, yellow bellied, jungle spiders. Hungry and anxious to be out of the insect ridden hut, he walked down to the water’s edge and cut the pawpaw open. The sweet orb of yellow nectar was more delicious than any fruit he could remember eating. Rather than save half, as was his plan, he ate its entirety and threw the rinds over a lava rock barrier that separated Orchid Beach from a small cove to the west. "Let the crabs eat it, or the mice, or the spiders," he said aloud. “Better it than me.”
The azure sky was absent of clouds and a soft breeze blew in from the east. Compton sat at the table drinking lemon grass tea and watching the sparse boat traffic, near and far, pass the beach. Everyone who saw him waved and he self-consciously waved back, feeling foolish and very much the inane tourist.
Midmorning Moses came round the point as Compton was finishing his third cup of tea. Moses, as usual, was all smiles. “Bula, Michael, how was your night? Did you sleep well?”
“The noise from the jungle was incredible. It’s worse than your place.”
Moses gave off a high giggle. “The jungle is like a barking dog, lots of noise but it won’t attack.”
“I was attacked. Take a look at these bites on my arms and legs. I was under siege. The mosquito net didn’t seem to help.”
“No, no, those are love bites, gentle reminders of anher busy world. I bring the repellent from Taveuni, make your nights more restful, eh. I have a gift for you.”
He went to the skiff that floated at anchor just beyond the light shore break and retrieved a large bag and unloaded it on the table. Out poured three pawpaw, breadfruit, a spool of fishing line and several hooks.
“You wish to catch your fish, eh. These reefs have many fish. You make your list for the store and I catch a sand crab for the bait.”
Compton had no interest in fishing with the line but would not sour Moses’ enthusiasm, for he had already leaped from the kitchen table and was over the sea wall, digging for crabs with his toes. “They are crafty buggers. They cover their holes during the day.”
Moving from one spot to the next, he let out an “AAUGGG” sound when he located a cavity in the sand. Reaching down with his arm, well past the elbow, he came up with a golf ball sized crab.
“Squeeze ‘em tight and pull off their eyes.”
He brought the crab over to the table where Compton was working on his shopping list.
“Then you take off his back and inside there are three sections of meat. Each one goes right over the hook. Perfect, see, three on each side. Plenty bait in one crab. That’s all you need, one crab. You catch a reef fish with the crab and use the reef fish to catch the jack or mackerel. All from this one small crab. Amazing, eh! Everything’s right here, but the Indian man buys tin fish when he could catch the fish
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