wants the mine for himself. The old man fights bravely, but he is no match for the younger man. As he is forced towards the brink, his boots search for a foothold on the slippery rocks, but there is none. In the end he falls, his screams echoing off the cliffs, until there is a dull thud and finally all is silent…
Tony smiled to himself, pleased with the images he had created. That was what he called real imagination—not the boring stuff that adults always came up with. Fred thought his grandfather had fallen down a ditch: how boring was that?
It was the same with the missing Frenchwoman. Everybody thought she’d gone down one of the ditches. Yet there were all sorts of things that could have happened to her. For instance, someone could have thrown her to the sharks off this rock. He wondered if the police had even searched down below. It would be easy enough if you knew how to abseil, as there were rings cemented into the rock. People went over that edge for fun. Tony knew that was something he would never do. What was the point? There was nothing to do when you got to the bottom, except climb back up again.
He moved back down the path to where an overgrown track led to a lower set of rocks. The surface here was safer, with a few rocky handholds. Now he had a good view back up to Cathedral Rock, and could see that it wasn’t entirely a straight fall: a small ledge and a cleft offered some hope for anyone unlucky enough to go over the edge.
He turned and looked to the north. In the middle distance the rocky shore changed to a curving beach that stretched to another set of rocks near Cape Foulwind. Beyond that, the sea continued until, somewhere in the distance, it merged with the sky. In the whole of the view there was not a single building or anything else that would suggest that people lived there. It was hard to imagine that in the 1870s it had been one of the most populated places in the country.
His next stop was Doctor Bay. Through the flax he could see an arc of sand edged with speckled boulders. It could have been beautiful, if there had not been such a foul smell in the air. He struggled through the flax hoping to get down to the sand.
He had made it to the edge of the boulders when a large grey animal lunged at him out of nowhere. With gaping mouth, and roaring like a lion, it lumbered forward, plainly upset by his presence. Tony quickly backed away. And that must have been all that the thing wanted. For, with a final snort, it turned and went back to its grassy spot in the sun. Behind it was a sign that warned to be careful of the seals— Arctocephalus forsteri , the New Zealand fur seal.
This was the first wild seal Tony had seen. It was now obvious that the animal was the source of some of the smell, though not all of it—no single thing could smell that much. He looked around and found several other seals sunning themselves on the rocks. A few more could be seen lolling in the waters of the bay.
He stood watching as one of them hauled itself outof the water and scrambled up a rock that was already occupied. There was a moment of roaring and head waving before they discovered there had always been enough space for two.
Loop Track branched off Cathedral Track and led down to the rocks at the entrance to Constant Bay. There he found Nick sitting on a rock with a computer resting on his knees. The air around him was thick with the stench of seals.
‘Nice company you keep,’ Tony said.
Nick turned and looked at two seals snoring on the glittering rock behind him. ‘They’re better than some humans.’
Tony looked at Nick wondering if he was a little crazy—sitting on a rock in amongst stinky seals, working on a computer. It was not a normal thing to do.
‘What are you doing anyway?’ he asked.
‘Measuring radioactivity.’
Tony looked at him dumbly.
‘Here, I’ll explain.’ Nick lifted the computer and stood. Tony could then see a pipe sticking out of the rock. A cable led from the
Tony smiled to himself, pleased with the images he had created. That was what he called real imagination—not the boring stuff that adults always came up with. Fred thought his grandfather had fallen down a ditch: how boring was that?
It was the same with the missing Frenchwoman. Everybody thought she’d gone down one of the ditches. Yet there were all sorts of things that could have happened to her. For instance, someone could have thrown her to the sharks off this rock. He wondered if the police had even searched down below. It would be easy enough if you knew how to abseil, as there were rings cemented into the rock. People went over that edge for fun. Tony knew that was something he would never do. What was the point? There was nothing to do when you got to the bottom, except climb back up again.
He moved back down the path to where an overgrown track led to a lower set of rocks. The surface here was safer, with a few rocky handholds. Now he had a good view back up to Cathedral Rock, and could see that it wasn’t entirely a straight fall: a small ledge and a cleft offered some hope for anyone unlucky enough to go over the edge.
He turned and looked to the north. In the middle distance the rocky shore changed to a curving beach that stretched to another set of rocks near Cape Foulwind. Beyond that, the sea continued until, somewhere in the distance, it merged with the sky. In the whole of the view there was not a single building or anything else that would suggest that people lived there. It was hard to imagine that in the 1870s it had been one of the most populated places in the country.
His next stop was Doctor Bay. Through the flax he could see an arc of sand edged with speckled boulders. It could have been beautiful, if there had not been such a foul smell in the air. He struggled through the flax hoping to get down to the sand.
He had made it to the edge of the boulders when a large grey animal lunged at him out of nowhere. With gaping mouth, and roaring like a lion, it lumbered forward, plainly upset by his presence. Tony quickly backed away. And that must have been all that the thing wanted. For, with a final snort, it turned and went back to its grassy spot in the sun. Behind it was a sign that warned to be careful of the seals— Arctocephalus forsteri , the New Zealand fur seal.
This was the first wild seal Tony had seen. It was now obvious that the animal was the source of some of the smell, though not all of it—no single thing could smell that much. He looked around and found several other seals sunning themselves on the rocks. A few more could be seen lolling in the waters of the bay.
He stood watching as one of them hauled itself outof the water and scrambled up a rock that was already occupied. There was a moment of roaring and head waving before they discovered there had always been enough space for two.
Loop Track branched off Cathedral Track and led down to the rocks at the entrance to Constant Bay. There he found Nick sitting on a rock with a computer resting on his knees. The air around him was thick with the stench of seals.
‘Nice company you keep,’ Tony said.
Nick turned and looked at two seals snoring on the glittering rock behind him. ‘They’re better than some humans.’
Tony looked at Nick wondering if he was a little crazy—sitting on a rock in amongst stinky seals, working on a computer. It was not a normal thing to do.
‘What are you doing anyway?’ he asked.
‘Measuring radioactivity.’
Tony looked at him dumbly.
‘Here, I’ll explain.’ Nick lifted the computer and stood. Tony could then see a pipe sticking out of the rock. A cable led from the
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