Trinity Bay was at its best that evening. Against the darkening sky, the stars proclaimed their glory and mystery.
James and his boys had a choice of parking spots. Time to unload their gear …
Fishing under the stars was their goal.
‘Good work, lads, we’ll carry everything—easy peasy. Grandpop’s cast net can stay in the boot. Won’t want it unless we run out of bait.’ Pulling the last pack from the vehicle, he exclaimed, ‘Mum’s packed enough for an army. No suffering hunger or thirst tonight.’ They all grinned.
It was time to try to catch a fish, or two, to take home to Marie, savouring her solicitude, but missing them too.
“Go, Neil, I don’t mind,’ she’d assured him. ‘It’s a fine night. Take advantage. I’ve got things to occupy me.’ Her eyes darted to her sewing machine, open-lidded near some bunched fabric—arranged, just so, to conceal a bookmarked novel.
The little fellow, Cooper, assumed an important air as he carried a bucket and some bait in a small esky. His elder brother, Sean, due more responsibility, carried two fishing lines. He’d been trained to avoid poking anyone with them, especially the ends with the dangling hooks.
Their favoured place on the pier was close by. The three exchanged banter as they traversed the grass, then the cement path leading to Number 1 wharf. That’s what his grandfather and his father had called the place when he was a lad, and James refused to counter the tradition of previous generations. Hemingway’s might be the modern name, but he would never concur.
The plan was to avoid bright lights. No trading tonight. Few people about. James had a torch, in case.
Finding their preferred spot, they spread their gear. Soon hooks were dangling pieces of squid, a proven taste delight for their scaley prey. James had stored the lessons of his youth, and wished for his lads to share the advice passed down to him by family experts in angling.
‘Aah,’ breathed James, as he sank back. All three lines were in the murky water. Soft sounds of voices drifted on the balmy air. Traffic was minimal. Boats bobbed and distant lights flashed. No cruise ships lurked. Life was good on this Sunday night.
A short pause. As James had anticipated, Sean broke the silence.
‘Dad, tell us about the stars. Please.’
Then Cooper piped in. ‘You promised, Dad.’
‘Well, a question for you lads, first. Remember what I told you last time …’ He turned so he could see his son’s faces.
‘Who can point to the Southern Cross?’ In unison, both boy’s heads swivelled to the South, fingers raised. Easy question.
‘Can’t see a cross,’ said James, ‘what’s going on?’
‘Oh, Dad, you know. Don’t try to trick us. Join up the stars with straight lines. That’s a cross.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Cooper, ‘and the pointer helps us locoot it.’
‘Locate, silly,’ corrected his brother.
‘I’m pretty impressed, fellows. Let’s raid the food store, and get comfy. Reckon we should check the lines first?’
‘No, Dad, no nibbles yet or I’d have noticed,’ said Sean sagely.
Well-practised, they didn’t take long to settle into their own self-contained world, the smell of salt water, the gentle lapping around the piles, soft breezes wafting …
James surprised them. ‘You don’t have sisters.’
The boys exchanged glances, translated by James as, ‘What’s Dad up to?’
He rolled his eyes upwards. ‘Look at the Milky Way. Good lads. No clouds to hide the milk tonight.’
‘Oh, Dad, very funny,’ said Sean.
‘To continue, rude interrupter, we’re searching for a world-famous cluster, with a nick-name, the Seven ….. What? I gave you a clue. Starts with sss.’
‘Sisters.’
‘Clever kids! Google homework for you two is to find the actual name. And spell it properly. OK?’
Nods of agreement noted, James continued.
‘My dad, your grandfather, taught me about this cluster. His father had shown him. Let’s look for those Seven Sisters. Now, there’s heaps of other stars tonight, but you’re looking for a particular bunch. A bit tricky though–never do all seven twinkle at once. But let’s try. Follow where my finger is pointing. See the range above Brown’s Bay, about half-way along, not too high …
Silence for a minute or two, then puzzled expressions …
‘Dad, too hard for me,’ admitted Sean.
‘Me too,’ chirped Cooper.
‘Right, give in?’ James smiled, guessed the instant answer, ‘NO!’
‘Come closer. I’ll help you. Look along my arm, then my peter-pointer finger, and then …’
A noise. A noise they all knew well. The three leapt as one, racing to their lines. Two out of three were sending a strong fisherman’s alert. A catch?
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