CHAPTER SIXTEEN


Tarrant and Somerville walked in silence to the single landing stage which had been erected in a small bay at the north end of Shad Island. The summer was well advanced and the plentiful vegetation above the high water line was gleaming with a peculiar intensity, as though the leaves had been freshly enamelled. Somerville’s boat was riding peacefully at anchor, its solar panels drinking in energy for the voyage ahead.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” Tarrant said “There’s a lot of work to be done here.”

Somerville shook his head. “Not my kind of work. I’m a farmer, and that’s all I ever want to be.”

“Cawley Island is going to seem a bit tame, isn’t it?”

“Not to me, young Hal.” Somerville adjusted his red bandana to the correct slant across his forehead. “Do you know how far that torpedo was from me when I came to my senses and answered my radio?”

“I should do—you’ve told me about fifty times.”

“Five kilometres! And probably a lot less by the time the destruct mechanism worked.”

“That’s all in the past.” Tarrant shaded his eyes from the sun and looked at the low prefabricated building housing the shallow pools which were the nucleus of what Miss Orchard had dubbed the Aquarian Rehabilitation Centre. “We could use your help, Will.”

“It isn’t my line of business, I tell you.”

“It isn’t anybody’s line of business—it’s brand new to all of us.” Tarrant tried to imagine what his own future would be like if Miss Orchard’s recent successes in dysteleonics research brought in the extra funds she expected. She had announced plans to return every member of the distant Clan to Earth, one way or another, and if that happened this part of Shad Island was destined to become one of the busiest and most bustling places in the South Pacific.

“You’re ready for something new,” Somerville said. “I knew you’d never make the grade as a farmer, but with me it’s a calling. Have to go, Hal—I want to make use of this sunshine.”

Tarrant nodded, suddenly uncertain of his ability to speak, and took the older man’s hand. Somerville winked at him, smiling, then turned and climbed down on to the deck of his boat. Tarrant detached the nylon ropes and threw them down after him, and the boat immediately began to drift clear.

“One thing I meant to ask you.” Somerville put one foot on the gunwale and leaned on his knee, slipping easily into his portrayal of a genial buccaneer. “Are you going to marry that girl?”

Tarrant spread his hands and grinned. “It isn’t required.”

“Not by her, perhaps—but I think you’d rather have it that way.”

“I’d have to teach her what marriage means, first.” Tarrant waved goodbye to Somerville and watched the boat until it had passed out of sight beyond the western horn of the bay. He turned and hurried ashore, anxious to get back to Myrah. So far they had found only one thing in common—that their previous lives had been lonely and unfulfilled—but in his view that was quite good enough for a beginning.


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