Mackay, March 2019
Bethany Kristensen frowned as Lady Stella 2 shuddered and pulled to starboard. She corrected the helm and cocked her head, listening to the note of the engines; for a brief second, one of the diesel motors had missed. She shook her head as the engines purred quietly; a rogue wave must have caught the side of the vessel. They skirted Oom Shoal and she looked to the east, keen to get home. No matter how fast the trip was down through the Whitsunday Passage, the last few nautical miles into Mackay Harbour always seemed to take longer than the rest of the trip.
The call of home.
As the afternoon light faded, the three white fuel tanks at the north end of the marina stood out like beacons. A darkening sky, bleak with scudding clouds, promised a wet disembarking. Ahead for the crew was unloading and cleaning the thirty-three-metre vessel to prepare for the next charter on Tuesday, only two days away.
Paulie, the young deckie on the boat for high school work experience, called up from below and she jumped. ‘Hey, skipper, do you want me to help pack the fish or carry the guests’ bags up from the cabins?’
Bethany leaned over the edge of the deck and peered down. ‘If you could help the other guys pack the fish, that’d be great.’
‘On my way.’
‘Thanks, mate.’
The young deckie had worked hard since they’d set out to the inner reef five days ago. He’d done a top job of keeping Stella clean on the fishing charter while the permanent deckhands, Matt and Aaron, had helped the charter guests bait up their lines, and had filleted the fish as soon as they were hauled in. This trip the decks had been awash with fish guts and blood as the guests pulled in fish after fish. It had been an eyeopener for the young deckhand; he’d not been out to the reef before. He’d fitted in with Matt and Aaron and had shown respect to the guests: a corporate group of sixteen financial advisors on a team-building trip.
Maybe I should have picked their brains, Bethany thought wryly. Then again, James, her brother—one of the silent partners in the business—was a financial advisor, and he said they were going okay. Just.
‘Cuppa for you, Beth?’ Lois, their long-time hostess, poked her head around the wheelhouse door, which was just slightly open.
‘Oh, yes, please, Lo. You’re a love.’
Before Bethany could leave the helm to open the sliding door the rest of the way, Lois had nudged it with her shoulder as she came in, balancing a small tray with two cups of coffee and a packet of biscuits. ‘You’ll just have time before we dock. Your father taught me that a cuppa for the skipper before the unloading is a given.’
‘And then the real work starts.’ Bethany took the coffee with a smile and wrapped her hands around the mug.
‘Where are your parents now? Still away in their van?’
‘Yeah, according to Mum, they’re still out around Emerald fossicking in the gem fields.’
‘Ah, retirement is a wonderful thing. I’ll get there one day. Won’t be long before Larry and me’ll be heading down that track too. You won’t see us for the dust.’ Lois picked up the three empty cups that Matt had left on the console during his watch. ‘I was surprised that your dad pulled the pin when he did, although I do love having a lady skipper. You keep the wheelhouse clean and tidy just like it should be. As much as I loved your father as skipper, it was always a pigsty up here. It’s a wonder he could ever find anything.’ She climbed up on the second chair beside Bethany. ‘You want a bickie?’
‘No, thanks.’
Lois looked at her long and hard. ‘You’ve barely eaten on this trip. You okay?’
Bethany nodded. ‘I’m fine. Just a bit on my mind.’
‘Ronnie Riley still giving you a hard time?’ Lois picked up her coffee.
‘I can handle him. Not much gets past you, does it?’
The older woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t you worry. I’ve heard him winding you up. And more than once. A drunk and a sexist pig.’ Lois leaned back against the console. ‘You need to get your father or those brothers of yours to sort him out.’
‘I can look after myself.’ Bethany softened her words with a smile. ‘That would just add to Ronnie’s opinion that a woman shouldn’t be skippering a vessel. He is a drunk. No one pays him any attention and I can ignore him. I handled the old salts up in the Gulf. They were disgusted when I arrived. They weren’t expecting a woman captain.’
‘Fair enough. So long as you know what you’re doing, love.’
‘Riley’s smart remarks to me aren’t a problem, but if I hear he’s badmouthed Stella again, I’ll deal with him. And fast.’ Bethany leaned forward and looked at the screen. ‘Almost home.’ Draining her coffee, she put her mug on the tray. ‘Thanks, that’ll keep me going until we get unloaded and cleaned up.’
‘And then you’ll turn around and do it all again in a couple of days.’
‘I will, but hey, look at the great job I’ve got. And I’m really pleased we have back-to-back charters this week.’
‘And I’m pleased you don’t let any bloke tell you that you’re not good at it. I know how proud your dad is.’ Lois held up the biscuits. ‘Can’t tempt you with a Tim Tam? Just one?’
Bethany waved her away with a laugh. ‘Get out of here. I’ve got a vessel to berth.’
Lois picked up the tray—Bethany smiled as the packet of chocolate biscuits was left on the console, between the GPS and the radar screen—and then Lois left with a laugh over her shoulder. ‘And I’ve got sixteen beds to strip and cabins to clean.’
All was quiet as Bethany brought Stella into the marina. She looked across at the western shore. High rise buildings, hotels and restaurants were surrounded by parkland; then there was Gramps’s house with its beautiful gardens and old trees. Over the years, the old family home had become as much of a tourist attraction as the high seawall. Bethany smiled at the small house, sitting incongruously in the middle of the developed strip.
No matter what the developers had offered—and in the end it had been an incredible amount of money—her grandfather had dug his heels in and refused to budge.
‘My father built this house and I’m not selling. The only way you’ll get me out is to carry me out in a box. I’ll chain myself to any bulldozer that comes within cooee of my house.’ Gramps had ignored the offers of developers and the pressure from the Harbour Board, and the development had continued around him. Now the house was squeezed between two apartment blocks.
‘Bloody things keep the sun off my tomatoes,’ he muttered every winter.
Gramps and Gran had moved out to the farm for a few months in 1998 when the seawall was being built to cater for the six-metre tidal range, but he went to the harbour every day to make sure it wasn’t a trick to get him out. He was a gruff old bugger, but Bethany loved him to bits.
She and her brothers had grown up on the cane farm out at Eton, but they’d attended the Catholic school in town. Mum was working part-time in town in those days, so twice a week, when Andrew and James had football training, Bethany went to Gramps and Gran’s house. It was her special time with her grandfather; Gramps would buy her an ice-cream and then they’d go for a walk to see how much the wall had grown since the week before. Even when he and Gran were out at the farm, he would drive into town at the end of the school day, and he and Bethany would observe the progress while the boys were training.
‘I’m going to be a sea captain when I grow up, Gramps. Just like you and Dad.’
‘And your great-grandfather too.’ Gramps crouched down beside Bethany and pointed to the river to the south. ‘See down there? That’s where my father used to moor his boat before the harbour was built. He had to row to the shore back in those days.’
‘My great-grandfather helped plan the first harbour, didn’t he, Gramps? Even before you were born. And his boat was called Lady Stella after your mother, way back in the olden days.’
Gramps had laughed and taken her hand as they walked along. Her hand was almost lost in his, and she loved the feel of his rough and strong fingers. ‘Yes, sweetheart, he did, way back in the olden days.’
Together they’d watched the huge seawall being built, and by the time Bethany was at high school, hotels and apartment blocks filled the once-marshy tidal flats. The Mackay Harbour and the old port of her grandfather’s childhood of the nineteen forties had changed, but Gramps’s love for the sea remained steadfast.
‘Why would a man want to live anywhere else?’ he’d say. Bethany’s determination to go to sea had never faded and she knew that Gramps had been proud, and not surprised, when she had been the only one of his grandchildren to follow a maritime career.
A tug hooted as it passed the Lady Stella 2 on her way through the leading lights in the channel and Bethany focused her attention on her vessel as the marina loomed ahead. Rusted fishing vessels draped with tangled black fishing nets hugged the finger wharves along the north wall. As Stella motored in, Bethany glanced towards the back wharves. She expelled a sigh of relief when she saw the empty berth where the Rileys’ charter boats usually sat.
Ronnie wouldn’t be hanging around as they unloaded. He’d wander along smoking his foul-smelling cigarillos under the pretext of a chat, but Bethany knew all he wanted was to see how many fish they’d caught and how successful the charter had been.
She frowned as a shudder ran through the vessel and Stella pulled to one side again. Bethany corrected the helm and listened intently; there was a miss in one of the engines. As she looked ahead, the last rays of sunlight reflected on a small tinnie anchored directly in her path.
‘Jesus, what the hell . . .’ Bethany pressed the horn to warn the tinnie of their approach—as if they couldn’t see the huge vessel looming ahead of them—but as she went to step out of the wheelhouse to yell at them to get out of the way, one of Stella’s engines cut out.
‘Shit, shit, shit.’ Bethany rushed back to the console as the vessel slowed, but not enough to miss the boat with the lone fisherman in it.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs. ‘Beth, what the hell are you doing? There’s a tinnie fifty metres ahead of us.’ Matt, her senior deckie, hurried though the door, his eyes wide. ‘We’re going to go right over the top of him.’
‘I know. The port engine just cut out.’ Bethany gritted her teeth as she pressed the starter. Relief flooded through her when the engine kicked back in. ‘What the hell is the fool doing anchored in the main channel anyway? Why isn’t he moving the bloody thing? Oh, for God’s sake! He’s going to jump.’
They both watched the fisherman jump from the small tinnie and swim towards the wharf.
Bethany held her breath as her hands gripped the helm, her feet planted firmly on the floor as the motor vibrated beneath them. The gap between her vessel and the man in the water narrowed. Keeping her focus firmly on the swimmer in the water ahead, she manoeuvred Stella slightly to starboard, conscious of the finger wharves scant metres to her right. If she went over the tinnie, so be it; it could be replaced. She let out her breath when he clambered up onto the wharf and her vessel missed the small boat by mere centimetres.
The man stood on the wharf and shook his fist at them. ‘You stupid bitch.’
‘Don’t go abusing me, you fool,’ she muttered under her breath as she gripped the helm.
‘Bloody well done, Beth.’ Matt wiped the back of his hand over his forehead as Lady Stella 2 headed towards the end of the main channel.
‘Matt, go down and see what’s wrong in the engine room. We can’t risk that engine cutting out again when we’re berthing.’
As Matt turned towards the steps to the lower deck, Bethany narrowed her eyes at the man limping along the wharf.
‘Bloody hell. It’s Ronnie Riley,’ she said. ‘I thought they were out on a charter. Their boat’s not there.’
Matt peered into the fading light. ‘Sure looks like him to me.’
‘Why the hell would he be fishing in the channel?’ Bethany tried to breathe through her anger. ‘He did that deliberately. He was trying to make me look incompetent.’
Matt shook his head. ‘You’re stretching it, Beth. How could he have known that the motor would cut out? He could have been killed.’
‘Why would he be fishing in the middle of the channel in a tinnie?’ she muttered. ‘I wouldn’t put anything past that low life.’
Matt flicked her a sceptical glance and headed down to the engine room. She shook her head slowly, refusing to let herself to think of what if.
As Stella approached her berth, Bethany pushed Ronnie Riley from her mind; she would deal with him later. She turned her gaze back to the channel ahead. Two small runabouts headed out to sea for night fishing, one on the starboard side of Stella and one on the portside, both with scant disregard for any maritime regulations. Confident that her vessel was under her complete control, Bethany throttled back the engines as they approached the central wharf. She glanced up at the concourse above them; music and voices drifted from the hotel. She reached for the handset as the radio crackled to life.
‘Lady Stella, Lady Stella, Lady Stella, this is Mystique. Over.’
‘Mystique, Lady Stella, switching to Channel 20.’
Bethany switched down. ‘Beau, what’s up?
‘Nothing, just touching base.’
‘Thought you had some time off this week.’ Her gaze ran over the instruments again.
‘I was supposed to, but Micky had to go to Brisbane and wanted his boat prepared for a trip out, and I got called in. Margot was not impressed. I was supposed to pick up Grace from day care because Margot’s on day shift.’
‘Bummer.’
‘All good though. The dragon mother-in-law stepped up. Listen, I know you’re about to dock, but seeing we’ve got a babysitter, we’re going to have a drink at the pub when Margot picks me up at six, if you want to join us?’
‘Okay, I’ll see. If we’re finished unloading by then, I could make it.’ Anger still pulsed through Bethany; having a drink with Beau and Margot would calm her.
‘Try to make it. I’ve got a good job lead for you,’ Beau said.
‘Talk later. Over and out.’ The back of Stella was in line with the wharf and Bethany leaned out of the wheelhouse and called out to Matt, who was waiting on the foredeck.
‘Good to go, Matt?’
‘All good, skipper.’
‘Okay, I’ll follow up later. Forward line on first, Matt, and let her drift in, then the stern line and the springers.’
‘Got it,’ Matt called back with a wave.
Stella had scored one of the few big berths near the tourist precinct, making her highly visible to tourists—the Rileys’ boat was on the sea end with the commercial fishing vessels. Ronnie had written a letter to the harbourmaster demanding to know why the Kristensen family got special treatment.
Troublemaker.
There were no deals, as Bethany well knew; as well as skippering Stella, Bethany had managed the charter business since she and her brothers had bought the family business when Dad had retired two years ago. She had come home from the Gulf as soon as Dad had mentioned retirement. Andrew and James were silent partners; they had their own careers in Brisbane. Her share of the loan was still significant, and to service the repayments, pay the crew and maintain the vessel she had to be at sea with a boat full of paying guests on back-to-back charters. Marina fees, fuel costs, insurance, and the maintenance of a classic vessel like the Lady Stella 2 took every spare dollar. Bethany had lost sleep—and her appetite—as bookings had slowed. There had been a downturn in charters since the last six-monthly report, and she’d tried to come up with innovative ways to advertise, determined to increase bookings before she shared the latest cash flow figures with her brothers. But no matter what she came up with, the bookings weren’t as strong as they had been a year ago. At least this corporate charter meant the bills would be paid on time this month.
If anyone had seen her almost run over that boat, they’d have no faith in her being able to handle a vessel the size of Stella. She replayed the timing of Ronnie jumping out of his tinnie in her head. It was almost as though he’d been ready to jump out of his boat. She’d be talking to Riley, but Matt was right, there was no explanation for the engine cutting out at that exact moment.
It wasn’t long before Matt and Paulie had the lines secured and Stella was resting gently against the fenders on the wharf. The guests milled on the lower deck as the gangway was put in place ready for them to disembark.
Bethany checked the temperature dials and turned off the sounders as she waited for the engines to run down, so she could go and thank the guests before they left the charter. It had been a successful trip: the weather had been kind and the fishing had been excellent. Hopefully, it had been good enough for the company to book again and pass on a recommendation in the corporate world in Brisbane.
She ran lightly down the steps to the timber-panelled saloon.
Lois was putting down a laundry bag full of linen. ‘Great tippers,’ she said, patting her pocket. Bethany smiled as Lois headed towards the back deck.
Happy staff made such a difference to the atmosphere on board, although Bethany knew Lois would still be smiling even without a good tip; she loved being on the boat.
Most of the guests were already down on the wharf; their bags, assorted fishing rods and boxes of fish were piled up ready to be taken up the main gangway to the car park.
‘Great charter, skipper.’ Michael Edwards, the manager of the finance company, came over and extended his hand to her.
Bethany shook it with a smile. ‘I’m pleased you enjoyed yourselves.’
‘We all did, but I tell you what, it’s going to be hard to get this lot back in the office this week. You’ll see some of them again, they’re already talking about booking some private fishing charters in the winter.’
‘That’s great. You guys had the best coral trout catch so far this season.’
‘It wasn’t just the fishing. You run a good ship, captain.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’ll be honest. The company was reluctant to book for a while.’
‘Female skipper?’ Bethany raised her eyebrows and kept the pleasant smile on her face. She didn’t suffer fools gladly, but when there were guests on board, she had a smile ready no matter what she thought. She hoped they’d all been too busy packing up to see the Riley incident. ‘Don’t worry, I’m used to it. I’ve been working on boats since I could walk; my family has always been on the sea.’
‘There was that, but to be honest, it was more about the cost. We had a local charter company approach us with a much cheaper quote.’ He paused and held her gaze for a moment. ‘Your rates might be higher, but it was well worth it. You did a great job, and we’ll be back. I can guarantee that.’
Bethany pushed back her anger; the only other local charter company was the Riley brothers. She was tempted to say, “pay peanuts, get monkeys”, but that was unprofessional. ‘I’m pleased to hear that.’ But her smile was genuine as she said goodbye and Michael walked towards the gangway. She waited on the foredeck as the guests collected their luggage and the fish packed in dry ice before they made their way up to the car park. Once the deck was clear, she called out to Matt. ‘You get the boys to start washing the boat, stow the ropes and help Lois bring the linen down to the wharf. We’ll leave the rubbish until last.’
‘Do you want me to get the ute?’ Matt came up to the foredeck.
‘No. I’ll go. I’m going to see Ronnie Riley on the way. He’s sure to have gone to the pub.’
‘After he dried off,’ Matt said with a grin.
‘There’s nothing funny about it, Matt. If they keep undercutting us, you’ll be out of a job.’
Matt’s grin disappeared. ‘Seriously? Have bookings dropped that much?’
‘It’s not good. You keep an eye on Paulie, show him what to do. How did you go down in the engine room?’
‘One of the air filters looked a bit dirty but everything else seemed okay.’ Matt held her gaze. ‘Enough to cut the motor, probably.’
‘Okay, fair enough. We’ll replace them all before we head out on Tuesday.’ Bethany looked up as the first spots of rain landed on the deck. It was only a quick shower and it stopped almost as soon as it had begun. With a frown she looked up at the concourse. The sky had darkened, and the lights had come on. The music was getting louder as the Sunday night live band warmed up on the outdoor stage outside the hotel. She put one hand up to shade her eyes from the bright spotlight at the top of the gangway, where a familiar figure stood looking down at the Lady Stella 2. A hollow feeling settled in her chest.
‘Something’s wrong,’ she said quietly as she moved quickly towards the gangway.
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Bethany Kristensen frowned as Lady Stella 2 shuddered and pulled to starboard. She corrected the helm and cocked her head, listening to the note of the engines; for a brief second, one of the diesel motors had missed. She shook her head as the engines purred quietly; a rogue wave must have caught the side of the vessel. They skirted Oom Shoal and she looked to the east, keen to get home. No matter how fast the trip was down through the Whitsunday Passage, the last few nautical miles into Mackay Harbour always seemed to take longer than the rest of the trip.
The call of home.
As the afternoon light faded, the three white fuel tanks at the north end of the marina stood out like beacons. A darkening sky, bleak with scudding clouds, promised a wet disembarking. Ahead for the crew was unloading and cleaning the thirty-three-metre vessel to prepare for the next charter on Tuesday, only two days away.
Paulie, the young deckie on the boat for high school work experience, called up from below and she jumped. ‘Hey, skipper, do you want me to help pack the fish or carry the guests’ bags up from the cabins?’
Bethany leaned over the edge of the deck and peered down. ‘If you could help the other guys pack the fish, that’d be great.’
‘On my way.’
‘Thanks, mate.’
The young deckie had worked hard since they’d set out to the inner reef five days ago. He’d done a top job of keeping Stella clean on the fishing charter while the permanent deckhands, Matt and Aaron, had helped the charter guests bait up their lines, and had filleted the fish as soon as they were hauled in. This trip the decks had been awash with fish guts and blood as the guests pulled in fish after fish. It had been an eyeopener for the young deckhand; he’d not been out to the reef before. He’d fitted in with Matt and Aaron and had shown respect to the guests: a corporate group of sixteen financial advisors on a team-building trip.
Maybe I should have picked their brains, Bethany thought wryly. Then again, James, her brother—one of the silent partners in the business—was a financial advisor, and he said they were going okay. Just.
‘Cuppa for you, Beth?’ Lois, their long-time hostess, poked her head around the wheelhouse door, which was just slightly open.
‘Oh, yes, please, Lo. You’re a love.’
Before Bethany could leave the helm to open the sliding door the rest of the way, Lois had nudged it with her shoulder as she came in, balancing a small tray with two cups of coffee and a packet of biscuits. ‘You’ll just have time before we dock. Your father taught me that a cuppa for the skipper before the unloading is a given.’
‘And then the real work starts.’ Bethany took the coffee with a smile and wrapped her hands around the mug.
‘Where are your parents now? Still away in their van?’
‘Yeah, according to Mum, they’re still out around Emerald fossicking in the gem fields.’
‘Ah, retirement is a wonderful thing. I’ll get there one day. Won’t be long before Larry and me’ll be heading down that track too. You won’t see us for the dust.’ Lois picked up the three empty cups that Matt had left on the console during his watch. ‘I was surprised that your dad pulled the pin when he did, although I do love having a lady skipper. You keep the wheelhouse clean and tidy just like it should be. As much as I loved your father as skipper, it was always a pigsty up here. It’s a wonder he could ever find anything.’ She climbed up on the second chair beside Bethany. ‘You want a bickie?’
‘No, thanks.’
Lois looked at her long and hard. ‘You’ve barely eaten on this trip. You okay?’
Bethany nodded. ‘I’m fine. Just a bit on my mind.’
‘Ronnie Riley still giving you a hard time?’ Lois picked up her coffee.
‘I can handle him. Not much gets past you, does it?’
The older woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t you worry. I’ve heard him winding you up. And more than once. A drunk and a sexist pig.’ Lois leaned back against the console. ‘You need to get your father or those brothers of yours to sort him out.’
‘I can look after myself.’ Bethany softened her words with a smile. ‘That would just add to Ronnie’s opinion that a woman shouldn’t be skippering a vessel. He is a drunk. No one pays him any attention and I can ignore him. I handled the old salts up in the Gulf. They were disgusted when I arrived. They weren’t expecting a woman captain.’
‘Fair enough. So long as you know what you’re doing, love.’
‘Riley’s smart remarks to me aren’t a problem, but if I hear he’s badmouthed Stella again, I’ll deal with him. And fast.’ Bethany leaned forward and looked at the screen. ‘Almost home.’ Draining her coffee, she put her mug on the tray. ‘Thanks, that’ll keep me going until we get unloaded and cleaned up.’
‘And then you’ll turn around and do it all again in a couple of days.’
‘I will, but hey, look at the great job I’ve got. And I’m really pleased we have back-to-back charters this week.’
‘And I’m pleased you don’t let any bloke tell you that you’re not good at it. I know how proud your dad is.’ Lois held up the biscuits. ‘Can’t tempt you with a Tim Tam? Just one?’
Bethany waved her away with a laugh. ‘Get out of here. I’ve got a vessel to berth.’
Lois picked up the tray—Bethany smiled as the packet of chocolate biscuits was left on the console, between the GPS and the radar screen—and then Lois left with a laugh over her shoulder. ‘And I’ve got sixteen beds to strip and cabins to clean.’
All was quiet as Bethany brought Stella into the marina. She looked across at the western shore. High rise buildings, hotels and restaurants were surrounded by parkland; then there was Gramps’s house with its beautiful gardens and old trees. Over the years, the old family home had become as much of a tourist attraction as the high seawall. Bethany smiled at the small house, sitting incongruously in the middle of the developed strip.
No matter what the developers had offered—and in the end it had been an incredible amount of money—her grandfather had dug his heels in and refused to budge.
‘My father built this house and I’m not selling. The only way you’ll get me out is to carry me out in a box. I’ll chain myself to any bulldozer that comes within cooee of my house.’ Gramps had ignored the offers of developers and the pressure from the Harbour Board, and the development had continued around him. Now the house was squeezed between two apartment blocks.
‘Bloody things keep the sun off my tomatoes,’ he muttered every winter.
Gramps and Gran had moved out to the farm for a few months in 1998 when the seawall was being built to cater for the six-metre tidal range, but he went to the harbour every day to make sure it wasn’t a trick to get him out. He was a gruff old bugger, but Bethany loved him to bits.
She and her brothers had grown up on the cane farm out at Eton, but they’d attended the Catholic school in town. Mum was working part-time in town in those days, so twice a week, when Andrew and James had football training, Bethany went to Gramps and Gran’s house. It was her special time with her grandfather; Gramps would buy her an ice-cream and then they’d go for a walk to see how much the wall had grown since the week before. Even when he and Gran were out at the farm, he would drive into town at the end of the school day, and he and Bethany would observe the progress while the boys were training.
‘I’m going to be a sea captain when I grow up, Gramps. Just like you and Dad.’
‘And your great-grandfather too.’ Gramps crouched down beside Bethany and pointed to the river to the south. ‘See down there? That’s where my father used to moor his boat before the harbour was built. He had to row to the shore back in those days.’
‘My great-grandfather helped plan the first harbour, didn’t he, Gramps? Even before you were born. And his boat was called Lady Stella after your mother, way back in the olden days.’
Gramps had laughed and taken her hand as they walked along. Her hand was almost lost in his, and she loved the feel of his rough and strong fingers. ‘Yes, sweetheart, he did, way back in the olden days.’
Together they’d watched the huge seawall being built, and by the time Bethany was at high school, hotels and apartment blocks filled the once-marshy tidal flats. The Mackay Harbour and the old port of her grandfather’s childhood of the nineteen forties had changed, but Gramps’s love for the sea remained steadfast.
‘Why would a man want to live anywhere else?’ he’d say. Bethany’s determination to go to sea had never faded and she knew that Gramps had been proud, and not surprised, when she had been the only one of his grandchildren to follow a maritime career.
A tug hooted as it passed the Lady Stella 2 on her way through the leading lights in the channel and Bethany focused her attention on her vessel as the marina loomed ahead. Rusted fishing vessels draped with tangled black fishing nets hugged the finger wharves along the north wall. As Stella motored in, Bethany glanced towards the back wharves. She expelled a sigh of relief when she saw the empty berth where the Rileys’ charter boats usually sat.
Ronnie wouldn’t be hanging around as they unloaded. He’d wander along smoking his foul-smelling cigarillos under the pretext of a chat, but Bethany knew all he wanted was to see how many fish they’d caught and how successful the charter had been.
She frowned as a shudder ran through the vessel and Stella pulled to one side again. Bethany corrected the helm and listened intently; there was a miss in one of the engines. As she looked ahead, the last rays of sunlight reflected on a small tinnie anchored directly in her path.
‘Jesus, what the hell . . .’ Bethany pressed the horn to warn the tinnie of their approach—as if they couldn’t see the huge vessel looming ahead of them—but as she went to step out of the wheelhouse to yell at them to get out of the way, one of Stella’s engines cut out.
‘Shit, shit, shit.’ Bethany rushed back to the console as the vessel slowed, but not enough to miss the boat with the lone fisherman in it.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs. ‘Beth, what the hell are you doing? There’s a tinnie fifty metres ahead of us.’ Matt, her senior deckie, hurried though the door, his eyes wide. ‘We’re going to go right over the top of him.’
‘I know. The port engine just cut out.’ Bethany gritted her teeth as she pressed the starter. Relief flooded through her when the engine kicked back in. ‘What the hell is the fool doing anchored in the main channel anyway? Why isn’t he moving the bloody thing? Oh, for God’s sake! He’s going to jump.’
They both watched the fisherman jump from the small tinnie and swim towards the wharf.
Bethany held her breath as her hands gripped the helm, her feet planted firmly on the floor as the motor vibrated beneath them. The gap between her vessel and the man in the water narrowed. Keeping her focus firmly on the swimmer in the water ahead, she manoeuvred Stella slightly to starboard, conscious of the finger wharves scant metres to her right. If she went over the tinnie, so be it; it could be replaced. She let out her breath when he clambered up onto the wharf and her vessel missed the small boat by mere centimetres.
The man stood on the wharf and shook his fist at them. ‘You stupid bitch.’
‘Don’t go abusing me, you fool,’ she muttered under her breath as she gripped the helm.
‘Bloody well done, Beth.’ Matt wiped the back of his hand over his forehead as Lady Stella 2 headed towards the end of the main channel.
‘Matt, go down and see what’s wrong in the engine room. We can’t risk that engine cutting out again when we’re berthing.’
As Matt turned towards the steps to the lower deck, Bethany narrowed her eyes at the man limping along the wharf.
‘Bloody hell. It’s Ronnie Riley,’ she said. ‘I thought they were out on a charter. Their boat’s not there.’
Matt peered into the fading light. ‘Sure looks like him to me.’
‘Why the hell would he be fishing in the channel?’ Bethany tried to breathe through her anger. ‘He did that deliberately. He was trying to make me look incompetent.’
Matt shook his head. ‘You’re stretching it, Beth. How could he have known that the motor would cut out? He could have been killed.’
‘Why would he be fishing in the middle of the channel in a tinnie?’ she muttered. ‘I wouldn’t put anything past that low life.’
Matt flicked her a sceptical glance and headed down to the engine room. She shook her head slowly, refusing to let herself to think of what if.
As Stella approached her berth, Bethany pushed Ronnie Riley from her mind; she would deal with him later. She turned her gaze back to the channel ahead. Two small runabouts headed out to sea for night fishing, one on the starboard side of Stella and one on the portside, both with scant disregard for any maritime regulations. Confident that her vessel was under her complete control, Bethany throttled back the engines as they approached the central wharf. She glanced up at the concourse above them; music and voices drifted from the hotel. She reached for the handset as the radio crackled to life.
‘Lady Stella, Lady Stella, Lady Stella, this is Mystique. Over.’
‘Mystique, Lady Stella, switching to Channel 20.’
Bethany switched down. ‘Beau, what’s up?
‘Nothing, just touching base.’
‘Thought you had some time off this week.’ Her gaze ran over the instruments again.
‘I was supposed to, but Micky had to go to Brisbane and wanted his boat prepared for a trip out, and I got called in. Margot was not impressed. I was supposed to pick up Grace from day care because Margot’s on day shift.’
‘Bummer.’
‘All good though. The dragon mother-in-law stepped up. Listen, I know you’re about to dock, but seeing we’ve got a babysitter, we’re going to have a drink at the pub when Margot picks me up at six, if you want to join us?’
‘Okay, I’ll see. If we’re finished unloading by then, I could make it.’ Anger still pulsed through Bethany; having a drink with Beau and Margot would calm her.
‘Try to make it. I’ve got a good job lead for you,’ Beau said.
‘Talk later. Over and out.’ The back of Stella was in line with the wharf and Bethany leaned out of the wheelhouse and called out to Matt, who was waiting on the foredeck.
‘Good to go, Matt?’
‘All good, skipper.’
‘Okay, I’ll follow up later. Forward line on first, Matt, and let her drift in, then the stern line and the springers.’
‘Got it,’ Matt called back with a wave.
Stella had scored one of the few big berths near the tourist precinct, making her highly visible to tourists—the Rileys’ boat was on the sea end with the commercial fishing vessels. Ronnie had written a letter to the harbourmaster demanding to know why the Kristensen family got special treatment.
Troublemaker.
There were no deals, as Bethany well knew; as well as skippering Stella, Bethany had managed the charter business since she and her brothers had bought the family business when Dad had retired two years ago. She had come home from the Gulf as soon as Dad had mentioned retirement. Andrew and James were silent partners; they had their own careers in Brisbane. Her share of the loan was still significant, and to service the repayments, pay the crew and maintain the vessel she had to be at sea with a boat full of paying guests on back-to-back charters. Marina fees, fuel costs, insurance, and the maintenance of a classic vessel like the Lady Stella 2 took every spare dollar. Bethany had lost sleep—and her appetite—as bookings had slowed. There had been a downturn in charters since the last six-monthly report, and she’d tried to come up with innovative ways to advertise, determined to increase bookings before she shared the latest cash flow figures with her brothers. But no matter what she came up with, the bookings weren’t as strong as they had been a year ago. At least this corporate charter meant the bills would be paid on time this month.
If anyone had seen her almost run over that boat, they’d have no faith in her being able to handle a vessel the size of Stella. She replayed the timing of Ronnie jumping out of his tinnie in her head. It was almost as though he’d been ready to jump out of his boat. She’d be talking to Riley, but Matt was right, there was no explanation for the engine cutting out at that exact moment.
It wasn’t long before Matt and Paulie had the lines secured and Stella was resting gently against the fenders on the wharf. The guests milled on the lower deck as the gangway was put in place ready for them to disembark.
Bethany checked the temperature dials and turned off the sounders as she waited for the engines to run down, so she could go and thank the guests before they left the charter. It had been a successful trip: the weather had been kind and the fishing had been excellent. Hopefully, it had been good enough for the company to book again and pass on a recommendation in the corporate world in Brisbane.
She ran lightly down the steps to the timber-panelled saloon.
Lois was putting down a laundry bag full of linen. ‘Great tippers,’ she said, patting her pocket. Bethany smiled as Lois headed towards the back deck.
Happy staff made such a difference to the atmosphere on board, although Bethany knew Lois would still be smiling even without a good tip; she loved being on the boat.
Most of the guests were already down on the wharf; their bags, assorted fishing rods and boxes of fish were piled up ready to be taken up the main gangway to the car park.
‘Great charter, skipper.’ Michael Edwards, the manager of the finance company, came over and extended his hand to her.
Bethany shook it with a smile. ‘I’m pleased you enjoyed yourselves.’
‘We all did, but I tell you what, it’s going to be hard to get this lot back in the office this week. You’ll see some of them again, they’re already talking about booking some private fishing charters in the winter.’
‘That’s great. You guys had the best coral trout catch so far this season.’
‘It wasn’t just the fishing. You run a good ship, captain.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’ll be honest. The company was reluctant to book for a while.’
‘Female skipper?’ Bethany raised her eyebrows and kept the pleasant smile on her face. She didn’t suffer fools gladly, but when there were guests on board, she had a smile ready no matter what she thought. She hoped they’d all been too busy packing up to see the Riley incident. ‘Don’t worry, I’m used to it. I’ve been working on boats since I could walk; my family has always been on the sea.’
‘There was that, but to be honest, it was more about the cost. We had a local charter company approach us with a much cheaper quote.’ He paused and held her gaze for a moment. ‘Your rates might be higher, but it was well worth it. You did a great job, and we’ll be back. I can guarantee that.’
Bethany pushed back her anger; the only other local charter company was the Riley brothers. She was tempted to say, “pay peanuts, get monkeys”, but that was unprofessional. ‘I’m pleased to hear that.’ But her smile was genuine as she said goodbye and Michael walked towards the gangway. She waited on the foredeck as the guests collected their luggage and the fish packed in dry ice before they made their way up to the car park. Once the deck was clear, she called out to Matt. ‘You get the boys to start washing the boat, stow the ropes and help Lois bring the linen down to the wharf. We’ll leave the rubbish until last.’
‘Do you want me to get the ute?’ Matt came up to the foredeck.
‘No. I’ll go. I’m going to see Ronnie Riley on the way. He’s sure to have gone to the pub.’
‘After he dried off,’ Matt said with a grin.
‘There’s nothing funny about it, Matt. If they keep undercutting us, you’ll be out of a job.’
Matt’s grin disappeared. ‘Seriously? Have bookings dropped that much?’
‘It’s not good. You keep an eye on Paulie, show him what to do. How did you go down in the engine room?’
‘One of the air filters looked a bit dirty but everything else seemed okay.’ Matt held her gaze. ‘Enough to cut the motor, probably.’
‘Okay, fair enough. We’ll replace them all before we head out on Tuesday.’ Bethany looked up as the first spots of rain landed on the deck. It was only a quick shower and it stopped almost as soon as it had begun. With a frown she looked up at the concourse. The sky had darkened, and the lights had come on. The music was getting louder as the Sunday night live band warmed up on the outdoor stage outside the hotel. She put one hand up to shade her eyes from the bright spotlight at the top of the gangway, where a familiar figure stood looking down at the Lady Stella 2. A hollow feeling settled in her chest.
‘Something’s wrong,’ she said quietly as she moved quickly towards the gangway.
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