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 eye-opener 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 advisers on a team-building trip.
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