A Dolphins Dream by Carlos Eyles Page B

of fleeing and returning to Taveuni and then a plane home. But there was no plane and something else was holding him fast, something keeping him here, almost against his will.
    In the solitude of the open hut the bird sounds came in variegated shrills from the jungle. He looked into the nearest trees but could not find a single bird. Like the creatures of the ocean, the songs of the birds were shadows of themselves. Suddenly all the bird sounds ceased as though something ominous had entered the jungle. The small hairs on the back of his neck pricked and when, seconds later, the birds started up again, he realized he had been holding his breath.
    The aria of the birds ran like the pipes of Pan through the jungle and he lay beside the fallen tree in the sun and listened to their song. A deep stillness overcame him and the discomfort lifted from his chest and dissolved into the sound.

* * *
     
    Moses returned in the late afternoon.
    “Bula, Michael. It was a very good day. I caught three fish and the Indian store had everything on your list. You lack for nothing, eh.”
    “I lack for nothing,” repeated Compton while helping unload the groceries from the boat.
    “Did you try some fishing?” asked Moses.
    “No, I looked around near a shallow reef, saw some beautiful fish but like I said, I’m no fisherman.”
    “Is it the sand crab pinch?”
    “No, although they’re certainly well-armed.”
    “Come over here.” He led the way to the far corner of the beach. “What do you see?”
    “Old shells and broken coral washed up by the tide.”
    Moses had the grin of a man with a secret. “Look carefully.”
    A shell moved. Then others moved. Half of the shells were moving.
    “Hermit crabs,” said Moses. “Jes’ take a stick and shove it in and pull ‘em out. Their pinchers are small, no pinch, see, very easy. Good bait but not as good as the sand crab.” He tossed the crab away and pointed to the nearest tree that towered over the hut. “Everything is here. We give the new leaves of this tree to babies with bellyaches. That tree over there has leaves that are bitter and cleans out your mouth and throat. If you get the sap in your eyes, it blinds. This one,” he said, walking up to the edge of the jungle, “you boil the leaves and drink the water and it washes you out if you are stopped up. Amazing, eh.”
    Compton, who barely feigned interest, nodded and turned for the kitchen
    “Would you like a cup of tea, Moses?” he asked.
    “That would be good. Tea in the afternoon is a pleasure.” Moses fingered the seashells on the table while Compton made the tea.
    “These are jewels, eh.”
    “They’re beautiful. I like the broken ones, where you can see the inside.”
    “The sea builds amazing creatures, all with their own secrets.  You see this one?” He held up a black and white checkered shell the size of a thumb nail. “It kills a man in five minutes. It has a tongue like a dagger. Tourists have put them into the sleeves of their wet suits and they are dead minutes later.”
    Compton brought the tea. “You mean that little shell is deadly?”
    “No, not the shell, the animal inside. Also, there is a stone fish, very dangerous, and the lionfish, and the sea snake. Everyone comes to Fiji and talks about the sharks. But it is not the things you see that will kill you, eh.”
    “And where are these stone fish and lion fish and sea snakes?  Right in front of this beach, no doubt.”
    Moses grinned, “No, no, you don’t have to worry. The lionfish come out at night and the sea snake is very shy. If you wear shoes in the water and step on the stone fish you won’t die. But there are others, eh. Don’t eat the red fish or the one with the white tipped spines, they are poisonous.”
    This last bit of information drew Compton’s direct concern. “When I start to spear fish how will I know which ones are good to eat?”
    “It is hard to know, so many kinds. They look alike for a small difference,