Chapter Twelve
Owen and Howard stoodnext to the four-wheel drive, watching the scene below them. Owen wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this. Maybe something like the waves he’d seen countless times on the television over the years—news reports and documentaries about the big ones in 2004 and the more recent event in Japan and Tonga, even a tele-movie of the huge Boxing Day disaster. Watching this tsunami was a little like that, yet not the same.
There wasn’t a huge wave as such, more a swelling of the sea. Water rolled in smaller waves that Owen watched approach the coastline, and Owen’s first thought was that it wasn’t going to do much damage. The relief was immense. He glanced at Howard and smiled.
The water moved up the shore, as if in slow motion. No great crashing of waves, no huge thunderous noise, just a slow influx of water. Once it hit land, the water seemed to gain speed, rushing up the boat ramp and across the asphalt road and parking area. As it washed across the dark grey surface, it began to churn and whitecaps swirled around. It carried branches andother debris, detritus the water had obviously collected on its path towards Woodbridge.
It was only when the few cars that had been left parked near the ramp began to move that Owen grasped the power behind the wave.
Holy Shit!
The water surged into the vehicles and the cars began to slide across the roadway, bumping into each other, until all the cars were pushed together and clumped against a slope of land, meaning they couldn’t go any further. The water didn’t stop, and Owen’s eyes grew wide as he watched it flowing up the embankment and splashing onto the road above. The noise had grown as the wave approached, and now the surging sound of water and colliding objects filled their ears. This time when Owen looked to Howard, it was with shock. Howard mirrored his horrified expression.
More water pushed in behind the first wave, bringing with it more rubbish but, thankfully, it didn’t encroach any higher or further inland. The natural embankment thirty metres or so in from the shoreline, acted as a barrier. They stood in awe, watching as the water started to ebb, only to flow again, and finally to withdraw the way it came. What it left behind was a mess of destruction. Mud and sand covered the asphalt, and kelp littered the ground.
Owen looked beyond the boat ramp, which thankfully was clear, to see a smattering of boats floating in the channel. Further out, he could see the land mass that was Bruny—the land mass that would have taken the brunt of the force of the wave. The island that had provided shelter to the bay where they sat. The island that fronted directly on the ocean that carried the wave.
“Well, that wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be,” Howard said.
Owen’s throat closed, and he swallowed heavily against the lump that threatened to choke him. “I guess,” he finally managed to force out.
“I mean, I thought it would be a big wave, like the kind you could surf on. It was more like a really big high tide. The waves themselves only seemed to be a few feet high.”
“But what about on the other side?” Owen pointed to the horizon. “Out there. What was it like when it hit the east side of Bruny? Surely the wave would have been bigger over there. And even this relatively small wave held so muchpower. Bloody hell.”
Howard placed a hand on Owen’s arm. “There’s no point trying to guess what happened over there, mate. You could be worrying unnecessarily.”
“But—”
“Nope. Let’s not make assumptions. Let’s get back in the car and get the boat launched. We can worry about everything else when we’re on the way.”
Owen nodded. “And maybe there’s something on the radio.”
“Good idea. Let’s check the reports.”
They climbed back into the LandCruiser and started slowly down the road. The wheels started to slip and slide once they reached the lower levels, probably due to the weight being towed behind the vehicle and the nature of the now-sandy surface. Owen engaged the four-wheel drive, reduced speed slightly and the tyres held firm.
The length of the car plus the trailer made navigation around the damaged cars difficult, but not impossible. They crunched over branches, and dodged obstacles, but eventually they were positioned to reverse the trailer into the water, which Owen did slowly as Howard directed from outside the car. Getting the boat into the water was a challenge, but there was no way in hell thatOwen was giving up, and surprisingly Howard seemed just as determined.
Once the fishing boat was floated off the trailer and into the channel, it didn’t take long for Owen to park the car further up the hill, run back down to the boat, and for them to be on their way.
“Why would you want to help me?” Owen asked once they were underway.
Howard looked at him for a moment before answering. The lines on his face were amplified as he frowned. “It’s a long story.” Then he chuckled. “But aren’t they all?”
Owen nodded but didn’t prompt for more. Instead, he stared at the brown and murky water with its surface littered with debris. Howard steered the boat through the mess, navigating around the larger objects and ploughing through others. He eventually started talking.
“I was born here. My dad was a fisherman. Scallops and prawns. I’ve spent my whole life on the coast, probably not moving much more than a hundred clicks or so from the place I was born. Although I went to Hobart for a time when I was first out of school. I was going to be an engineer.” Howard looked wistful for a moment as he stared out at the bushland that lined the road. He cleared his throat and resumed the story. “I met Stan while I was at university. He was studying to be an architect. He was everything I wasn’t. Tall, graceful, and outgoing. He was the life of the party. Everyone loved Stan.” Howard glanced at Owen and his voice dropped. “Including me,” he said in nearly a whisper. Owen was starting to understand where Howard was going with the tale. “Anyway, long storyshort, my brother was killed in a car accident, and I had no choice but to go help Dad with the fishing boat. He had a business to run, and back then there wasn’t a lot of spare cash to pay wages to employ anyone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What? No need to be sorry, mate. That’s life. You can’t change the path that’s been destined for you.” Howard shrugged his shoulders. “It probably wouldn’t have worked out for me and Stan anyway. We were too different. I would have held him back.” The wistful tone was back in Howard’s voice. “He was destined for great things—Melbourne, Sydney, designing grand buildings.”
“You could have done those things with him.”
“Nah, mate. I had my family to think of. They wouldn’t have been happy if I’d skipped off with a fella anyway. Better the way things were. It wasn’t like nowadays where you have more choices and freedom. Now tell me more about your man.”
The abrupt segue sounded like Howard wanted to change the subject. Perhaps if they stayed friends after all this crap was over—they do say a tragedy can bring people together—maybe then Owen could ask him more about his lost love. In the meantime, he was happy to talk about Sebastian—in fact, talking about him helped lighten the tension Owen felt: to focus on the good, not the unknown.
