Boxing Day: The Hunt Begins

Thursday. Boxing Day, and the hunt has begun beneath George Street in Sydney. Most people spent the day at the cricket or the sales. My allies spent it at the bottom of the sea.

The first party came aboard wearing paper crowns from yesterday’s crackers. I did not ask them to take them off. A hunter wears what he has. They said they had come because of reports of a monster sinking ships. They did not say they had come to walk off the pudding, but I could tell.

I will admit something here that I will admit nowhere else: I am not entirely calm about the Beast. My allies noticed. A quiet man named Tom asked, “Captain, are you all right?” I said I was perfectly all right. Then I said it again, louder, which I understand is how these things begin.

A couple of them had sailed with me before, in Perth. Most had not, and it made no difference; within a minute they knew the Beast was the enemy, and that is the whole of the briefing. Perth was the first chapter. This is the second. Either will do for a beginning.

The Beast’s shadow passed over the hull at dusk. Barnacle hid in a teacup. I did not hide. I stood at the porthole and said, “Hello again.”