Blood on the Reef by Tony Kolbe

Author:Tony Kolbe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anthony Kolbe
Published: 2021-04-27T01:33:52+00:00

Chapter 17

The nightmare recurred in the depths of the night, and Ross woke with a throbbing headache in the tranquil pre-dawn of Sunday morning. He lay there in a tangle of sheets listening to the distant rumble of the ocean as it rushed across the reef and the occasional thumping sound of a larger wave. The room had a couple of resident geckos with round, unblinking eyes and pink-brown bodies. They patrolled the ceiling, clinging with their widely spread adhesive footpads and emitting their chirping signals before darting to grab insects. Ross watched them in the half-light. After a while, he dragged himself out of bed. As well as the headache, he felt a few aches and pains from the hike the day before.

He dressed and went for a walk along the coastal road in the morning twilight. The quiet was disturbed by roosters, a chain of them, each crowing in turn, aiming to outdo the other. Scrawny dogs scavenged around the base of the rubbish stands. The animals hung their heads low but lifted pleading eyes to Ross as he passed. In the house yards, smoke rose languidly from the smouldering remnants of fires, lit the previous evening to burn leaves and household rubbish.

Ross saw a few people here and there, making their way home after a big Saturday night. Three men slept on the ground next to coconut logs. The previous evening, they would have sat in a circle on those logs playing ukuleles, singing, and drinking. Ross knew the process. A central barman set the quantity and pace of drinking. The drinker immediately downed whatever amount was doled out by the barman and handed back the empty drinking vessel, usually a coconut shell or glass jar. On it went around the circle. Ross remembered it as a quick and sure way to oblivion. A man, unsteady on his feet, called out to Ross and came over to him. Ross had a vague memory of him from years ago.

‘Rosco, come and have a drink,’ he slurred. ‘We’re making an umu, you remember, a ground oven. We’ll have a feast later.’ He put on a scheming grin of brown and decaying teeth. ‘Woof, woof,’ he said, trying to wink one of his bloodshot, bleary eyes.

‘I might come back,’ Ross replied, without any intention of returning. Eating someone’s family pet was not for him.

Ross walked on and felt better from the exercise. His headache had subsided. As dawn broke, he turned around and headed back. People emerged from their homes and washed under standpipes or cooked on gas rings in the kitchen lean-tos. Others were walking to early church services. The men were dressed in fresh white shirts and black trousers. The women wore white dresses adorned with intricate lace and woven hats, decorated with frangipani and hibiscus. Ross could smell the sweet scent of the women’s soap, and he returned their polite morning greetings. Ross walked on past his hotel and arrived at the harbour. He looked across to see Tereapi at the side of the Palm Lounge, emptying a container of empty bottles into a large bin.

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