The Heart Has Its Reasons

It's not really a shipwreck. It's the small upturned seaweed craft, with its ragged sail dragging.

And under it, are Captain Louttit and Louis-Claude de Freycinet, holding on grimly.

In a minute they will be washed ashore.

Arthur and Unni will recognise Captain Louttit, who will be feeling embarrassed.

Unni will jump down off the rock and pick up Captain Louttit.

She will ask who his friend is.

Captain Louttit will introduce Louis-Claude de Freycinet to Unni and Arthur.

Louis-Claude de Freycinet will bow low.

A handsome lobster, is Louis-Claude de Freycinet.

Can't you just see him?

.....

Now it is time to leave Bay of Fires.

Gaius has several scrapings of orange lichen for Arthur to deal with.

Arthur shoves them into his pocket.

Schopenhauer, more selectively, has collected some scrapings of yellow. He folds them up in a hanky.

They are heading for Scottsdale, and hoping to get there by nightfall.

........

They turn inland. The cold wind makes them ride faster.

Schopenhauer is going the slowest, for a credible reason..

He now has two lobsters in tow.

His face shows the strain of the effort.

Oi! says Captain Louttit. You look terrible.

Thank you, says Schopenhauer. You on the other hand look comfortable, and so does your friend.

They do look comfortable. They are wedged snugly inside the plastic lined pale blue felt cloche hat, in Schopenhauer's basket.

When do I get my first lesson? asks Captain Louttit.

Schopenhauer loses his temper.

Pah!

He speeds up to draw level with Gaius.

Gaius, says Schopenhauer. I heartily regret having this basket. It means I carry an unfair burden ........

I was thinking the same, says Gaius.

Then you'll take one? says Schopenhauer.

Arthur will take one, says Gaius. Catch up to him and tell him I said so.

Schopenhauer is determined to get rid of at least one of the lobsters. He speeds up again.

He passes potatoes, dairy cows, pine forests and poppy fields without even noticing.

Ah! Thank goodness. Arthur and Unni have stopped under a pine tree.

Unni is on the phone.

Yes, she is saying. Yes, yes. We are coming. Five days!  No worries. Bye!

That was Sweezus, says Unni. He's getting a team up for the tour and he wants us to be in it.

Good, says Arthur. I'm sick of it here. What's the team called?

It's heaps political, says Unni. Team Get-Up.

Arthur shrugs. He doesn't care what it's called. He'll soon be riding with Sweezus, his best friend in the world.

Schopenhauer pants up.

Arthur, says Schopenhauer. Will you take one of these lobsters?

Louis-Claude de Freycinet sticks his head out of the pale blue cloche hat.

Take me! says Louis-Claude de Freycinet.

Louis-Claude has his reasons. He wants to be closer to Unni, who reminds him (sentimentally) of Rose.

A Violent Tale Of The Sea

The small seaweed craft  rocks violently in the water.

Louis-Claude de Freycinet and Captain Louttit sniff the weather.

Sniff sniff.

The weather is bad for our voyage, says de Freycinet. And the winds are south westerly.

Captain Louttit regrets his decision not to stick with the bicycle.

A fishing boat chugs by, in a northerly direction.

The seaweed bobs up and down.

This is lucky, says Captain Louttit. Shall we latch on?

Too late, says de Freycinet. It's passed us already.

We could put up a sail, suggests Captain Louttit.

I don't have one, says de Freycinet. I never leave Great Oyster Bay.

Come on, man, says Captain Louttit. Don't be defeatist.

I'm not being defeatist, says de Freycinet. I have an idea. Help me turn the boat over.

They shift their weight around until the twisted seaweed rolls over, yellow stalk upwards.

Now, says de Freycinet. Hand me a knife.

What a good plan this would be, if Captain Louttit had a knife.

All right, then, says de Freycinet. We'll use our serrations.

They rip at a leathery frond with their claws until it loosens. Captain Louttit wraps it round the yellow stalk mast.

The southwesterly wind picks up and they are blown northwards.

Don't ask me how this works.

It's..... vectors.

.......

The others are now in St Helens, and it's lunchtime.

They have met up in front of the Blue Shed, a fine seafood restaurant.

But Schopenhauer doesn't feel like seafood. Not lobster, not oysters, not squid.

He orders chips, and that's what they all have, since he's paying.

They all eat their chips.

Now let's go and see Bay of Fires, says Unni. It's meant to be gorgeous.

They leave their bicycles at the pier, and walk down to the beautiful bay.

Ahhh! What a sight it would be in the summer.

Azure water, dazzling white sands, and large rocks covered in bright orange lichen.

Today it looks slightly less gorgeous.

The sea is whipped up to a grey fatty soup by the gale and the sand is stinging. Only the rocks are still orange.

Gaius goes over to have a closer look.

Yes, it is indeed orange lichen. What more can you say? It is orange. Except for this yellow bit here.

Come and see this, Schopenhauer old chap, says Gaius. I've located a yellow bit.

Arthur and Unni have gone off in disgust. They clamber up on a rock and look out to sea.

Wish I had a boat, says Arthur.

You do not, says Unni.

........a wild plank escorted by black seahorses, says Arthur, moving forward.

Is that a poem? asks Unni.

But Arthur has no time to answer.

A shipwreck is occurring before him.

The Perfect Mentality

They are marooned on Schouten Island.

They sit down on the sand.

Don't worry, says de Freycinet. I'll soon get us off. I'm an ex-naval officer as well as a cartographer-surveyor.

A mapper? says Captain Louttit.

Oui, says de Freycinet. But more than a mapper.

Yes, you said that, says Captain Louttit. An ex-naval officer as well. What are we waiting for?

I thought we might get better acquainted, says de Freycinet. Tell me about cycling. Is it difficult, I mean, for a lobster?

Not at all! says Captain Louttit. You just strap up, that's all, leaving four legs free. Then you pedal.

What about wind resistance? asks de Freycinet.

Captain Louttit stands up.

A stiff wind is blowing.

See? Nothing, says Captain Louttit.

De Freycinet can't quite see the point of this demonstration.

And what type of bicycle do you ride? asks de Freycinet. Is it customised to be smaller?

I suppose it will have to be, says Captain Louttit.

Alors! says de Freycinet. You don't yet have a bicycle! I knew it!

No doubt you also have secrets, says Captain Louttit. Or why live this solitary life?

I have no secrets, says de Freycinet. My life is on record. I am heartbroken, merely.

Heartbroken? says Captain Louttit. Tell me more.

The death of my young wife Rose left me heartbroken, says de Freycinet. She used to come with me on voyages. She insisted. We were devoted to one another. Well, she was devoted to me...... She had a little cabin on the poop deck.

Captain Louttit's eyes fill with tears.

Now the two sailors have exchanged confidences, their relationship is cemented.

Hey ho! They set back out to sea, bound for St Helens.

...........

Arthur and Unni have left the blowhole and are back on the Tasman Highway, heading for St Helens.

Gaius is still in Bicheno, waiting for Schopenhauer to catch up.

Here he comes now.

Schopenhauer: Huh, huh.... thanks for waiting!

Gaius: That's quite all right.

Schopenhauer: You don't get irony, do you?

Gaius: Dear me, were you ill?

Schopenhauer: You know perfectly well I was suffering. I threw up all that seafood.

Gaius: Better now?

Schopenhauer: Yes. I feel rather peckish.

Gaius: Can you wait till we get to St Helens?

Schopenhauer: I suppose so.

Gaius: Good man. You know, you have the sort of mentality one needs for the Tour.

Schopenhauer: The Tour de France? I thought they snacked all the time.

Gaius: Not all the time. Sometimes sacrifice is in order. Do you know what I'm thinking?

Schopenhauer: No. Is it in Latin?

Gaius: Was that asked in a jocular spirit?

Schopenhauer: You decide. What are you thinking?

Gaius: I think it was marginally funny.

Schopenhauer: You idiot. I mean what were you thinking before?

Gaius: Never mind. I've given up on it. It would be impossible.

Schopenhauer: Don't worry, I've guessed. And the answer is no, in any case.

Gaius: Really! We'll see about that.

In this way the two friends pass the time as they cycle along the beautiful scenic route from Bicheno to St Helens.

Let's hope they get there by lunch time.

Making Luck In The Morning

They wake up next morning in a Swansea Beach Chalet. The night has been paid for.

Now, says Gaius, we must get going. Where is Bay of Fires?

What's the hurry? says Schopenhauer yawning. Isn't checkout at ten?

You look awful, says Unni. Doesn't he, Arthur?

Yes, he looks green. Arthur knows that look from the inside.

Are you going to vomit? asks Unni.

I don't think so, says Schopenhauer, yawning even more widely.

Good, says Gaius. On our bikes then!

It's not far to Bicheno. They get there by morning tea time.

How does Schopenhauer feel now?

Unni looks over her shoulder.

She can't see him. Where is he?

Probably stopped behind a tree, says Gaius. We'll have to wait. How annoying. What's there to do here?

Penguins says Unni, flipping though screens on her phone. Oh no, wait, they spend all day fishing. You only see them at night. But hey! there's a blowhole.

We've seen a blowhole, says Arthur.

Not this blowhole, says Unni. It's a proper one.

You go, says Gaius. I'll wait for our friend.

..........

At the blowhole:

A few tourists are standing about.

Spoooof! a huge spurt of water forces it way up through the blowhole.

Hissss! Gurgle-urgle. It sucks itself down.

Wow! says Unni. It's pretty amazing.

I've seen bigger, says Arthur.

So have I, says a tourist from somewhere overseas that has way bigger blowholes.

........

On the water in Great Oyster Bay:

The leathery twist of seaweed is tossed in the turbulent current of the deep water channel between Freycinet Peninsula and Schouten Island.

.......et voilà! Schouten Island! says de Freycinet.

Very nice, says Captain Louttit. Does anyone live there?

No, says de Freycinet. Only caretakers. But you see fishermen and sea kayakers coming and going.

Good fishing? asks Captain Louttit.

Flathead, striped trumpeter, says de Freycinet. Rock lobster.

Our own kind, says Captain Louttit, shaking his head. Why do they stay?

Je ne sais pas, says de Freycinet. But where can they go?

The two mariners think silently about this question.

We are lucky, I suppose, says Captain Louttit.

Bien sûr, says de Freycinet. But I am a liberal. I believe we make our own luck.

That's what ducks think, says Captain Louttit darkly.

They are sailing rather close to Schouten Island. A large roller takes them. Their delicate craft is dragged through the shallows fetching up on the sand, yellow stalk upwards.

Would Eat This Wouldn't Eat That

It gets dark early in winter. Schopenhauer rides back into Swansea.

The others are already there.

Any luck with the oysters? asks Gaius.

What oysters? says Schopenhauer. No.

Where's Captain Louttit? asks Unni.

You won't believe it, says Schopenhauer. He met an old friend and they've gone sailing.

Why wouldn't we believe it? asks Arthur.

Yes, why wouldn't we? asks Unni.

Perhaps there's more to it, says Gaius.

Schopenhauer tells them the rest of the story.

Oh right! They sailed off on a piece of seaweed! scoffs Unni.

She whispers something to Arthur.

That was different, says Arthur. It was a beach party.

Ah, yes, says Gaius. I remember. Arthur cooked and ate Admiral de Guichen, back on the mainland. Are you suggesting that Schopenhauer ate Captain Louttit?

No, says Unni. I was joking.

But you did suggest it, says Arthur.

I didn't eat Captain Louttit, says Schopenhauer. Why on earth would I do that, when our relationship had reached a new level?

New level? says Gaius. Don't tell me. He asked you to teach him to ride a bicycle.

How did you know? asks Schopenhauer.

Because he also asked me, says Gaius.

And me, says Unni.

That proves you didn't eat him, says Arthur. I wouldn't have eaten de Guichen, if he'd asked me to teach him how to write symbolist poetry.

Ha ha! laughs Schopenhauer. A lobster writing symbolist poetry!

This is pointless, says Unni. He'll either turn up, or he won't.

He'll turn up in Bay of Fires, wherever that is, says Schopenhauer.

Why didn't you say so? says Gaius. All right. Let's have something to eat.

They ride slowly through Swansea until they find Oyster Bay Seafood, as they all have a craving for seafood.

The Sea Draws Them

Did you hear that? asks Schopenhauer. Seaweed laughing?

But Captain Louttit does not answer. He throws himself upon the heap of seaweed.

Freycinet, as I live and breathe! he cries.

A handsome lobster emerges from the heap of seaweed, saying : Louttit! Quelle surprise!

Schopenhauer is relieved. The laughter was emitted by handsome lobster. Many things are dreamed of in his philosophy, but not seaweed laughing.

Introduce me to your friend, says Schopenhauer.

This is Louis-Claude de Saulces de Freycinet, says Captain Louttit. A sailor. And this is Arthur Schopenhauer, philosopher and my new cycling coach.

Both parties claim to be delighted.

Delighted, says Schopenhauer

Enchanté, replies de Freycinet.

They all look solemnly at the heap of seaweed. It is interesting enough.

What brings you here, Louttit, in the winter? asks de Freycinet.

Long story, says Captain Louttit. Having cycled from Apollo Bay to Melbourne, sailed from there to Devonport, cycled to Lake St Clair and canoed single-handed down the Derwent River to Hobart,  I took the opportunity to moult in the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre. Now I'm on my way to England for the Tour de France where I expect to join the team of Ageless lobster.

Tut! says de Freycinet. I abhor the fact that the Tour de France this year is starting off in England.

Modern times, says Captain Louttit. How about you, old matelot?

Ouf! says de Freycinet. I flotter and flâner around the Freycinet peninsula. I take tours. You see this seaweed? It's not what you think.

The seaweed is a large and twisted piece of kelp, wet, brown, pock-marked and leathery, with a rubbery yellow stalk.

Note the various spaces, which serve as circular cabins, says de Freycinet.

Schopenhauer rolls his eyes and stares.

I see, says Captain Louttit. Not a mode of travel for the large, or the faint-hearted.

Certes! says de Freycinet. But you, mon ami, are neither large nor faint-hearted. Come with me! I'll show you Wineglass Bay, the Hazards, Schouten Island, Cape Baudin.........

Torn between a sailing tour and cycling lessons, Captain Louttit tries a compromise.

Take me up the coast to Bay of Fires, says Captain Louttit. I'll rejoin my friends there.

I don't usually go that far north, says de Freycinet.

Faint heart never won fair lady, says Captain Louttit.

De Freycinet is stung. He will do it for French honour.

He drags his seaweed vessel down to the dark grey spitting sea. The two lobsters clamber in among the kelpy tendrils. The sea draws them scratchily to its bosom. Squuuuuurrr!

Schopenhauer is left standing on the sand beside the drag marks.

Did that just happen?

It Laughs A Hollow Laugh

At Spiky Bridge:

Ah, says Gaius. Built by convicts in the 1840s. They made a good job of it.

But why the spikes? asks Unni. Did they have skateboards in those days?

Arthur jumps up on the wall and squeezes between the random spikes of upward pointing stones.

They are mysterious. Were the convicts just being artistic?

From there he has a good view of the sea.

It looks cold and grey and spitty.

He jumps down, and almost lands upon another tourist.

Hey, says the tourist.

Sorry, says Arthur. I was thinking.

That's all right, says the tourist. Interesting bridge. What's the reason for the spikes?

To stop skateboarders, says Arthur.

Ha ha! laughs the tourist. That's a good one. I heard another one. They stop cows falling off.

Gaius joins in the conversation.

The cows would first have had to clamber up the walls, says Gaius. An unlikely scenario.

This is boring, says Unni.

She is cross with Arthur, for stealing her joke about the skateboards. She wants to leave.

She gets on her bicycle, and heads for the Tasman Highway. Arthur and Gaius follow in her wake.

The tourist gets in his car and drives off in the opposite direction, towards Hobart.

The Spiky Bridge is left to ponder its own raison d'etre, as it has ever since Major de Gillem, superintendent of the Rocky Hills Probation Station, ordered its construction by his convicts in 1843.

......

Schopenhauer and Captain Louttit have reached Swansea, and are now heading for the seaside.

How does one gather oysters? asks Schopenhauer.

I suppose one picks them up, says Captain Louttit. It may involve wetting one's trouser bottoms.

I'm not happy about that, says Schopenhauer. Perhaps we could look for something on the sand.

Of course, says Captain Louttit. As a matter of fact I only mentioned oysters as a ruse.

A ruse? says Schopenhauer. You pique my interest.

Good, says Captain Louttit. The thing is, I wished to spend some time with you alone.

Understandable, says Schopenhauer. The others can sometimes be a little shallow.

Not that, says Captain Louttit. I want to learn to ride a bicycle, and yours looks the easiest.

Schopenhauer can't believe what he is hearing.

A lobster, ride a bicycle! And his is not the easiest. But he does not wish to ridicule Captain Louttit.

By now they have reached Jubilee Beach.

The sea is cold and grey and spitty. Pretty much the same sea Arthur saw.

Schopenhauer and Captain Louttit stroll along the sand discussing how best to ride a bicycle if one is a lobster.

You might need to strap up a few stray legs , says Schopenhauer.

Which ones? asks Captain Louttit.

Any. All but four, says Schopenhauer.

I knew you would be helpful, says Captain Louttit.

May I ask why you wish to ride a bicycle? asks Schopenhauer.

I have a dream, says Captain Louttit. Call me foolish.

I won't rule it out, says Schopenhauer.

A dream of riding in the Tour de France with Ageless lobster, says Captain Louttit.

Very foolish, says Schopenhauer. But only because I don't believe there is any such individual as Ageless lobster.

They have reached the end of Jubilee Beach. They have stopped beside a heap of seaweed.

The heap of seaweed laughs a hollow laugh.

Spiky Bridge Or German-Speaking Oysters

Hello all! says Gaius, hopping off his bicycle. I've had a most successful field trip.

In part, I see, says Schopenhauer, looking pointedly at the speckled spots.

What's all that? asks Unni.

It's the price you pay, says Gaius. Never mind. I have made a highly significant discovery.....

And what's that? asks Arthur, pointing to yellow sticky stuff on the handlebar. Looks like egg or something.

Egg or something? Gaius peers at the yellow sticky stuff and bits of broken eggshell.

Oh. No wonder the little birds were cross. But that will teach them.

What was this so-called discovery? asks Schopenhauer.

The birds appeared to speak a form of Latin, says Gaius, (forgetting the egg-or-something). Of course, when you think about it, it all makes perfect sense.

I beg to differ, says Schopenhauer. It would make perfect sense to me if birds spoke German.

He has a point, says Arthur. German is more guttural.

Arthur, says Gaius. You are an excellent right hand man, but you know nothing about bird phonology.

True, says Arthur.

He tries to think of an excellent  right hand man question.

He says: Have you had any lunch?

No, says Gaius. Did you pick me up something to eat, by any chance?

As a matter of fact, says Schopenhauer, we saved a quantity of ham and pineapple pizza.

Without the ham, adds Captain Louttit.

Ah, says Gaius. I prefer it without the ham.

Gaius chews on a few hard crusts of Scorchers pineapple pizza. Yes, that hits the spot.

And then they are away, heading for Swansea, along the Tasman Highway.

Just out of Swansea they see a sign for Spiky Bridge.

Spiky Bridge, says Unni. I want to see that, who's coming?

Not me, says Schopenhauer. I have no interest in bridges. I shall go down to the beach and look for.....

He tries to think of what.

Oysters! says Captain Louttit. Swansea overlooks Great Oyster Bay.

Oysters, says Schopenhauer. But you all go to Spiky Bridge if you want to.

I'll stay with you, says Captain Louttit. I like oysters.

So Schopenhauer and Captain Louttit ride on down to Oyster Bay, while Unni, Arthur and Gaius take the side road out to Spiky Bridge.

He's jealous, says Unni. Anyone can see. That's why he wants to look for oysters. He's hoping they speak German.

Arthur likes this explanation.

Gaius doesn't.

No scientist would ever think that way.

The Language Of Birds

Out on the sand spit:

The red-capped plover regards Gaius with his sticky eye.

Tik tik quis?

Gaius knows Latin, but he replies in English:

I'm Gaius Plinius Secundus, natural historian.

Spik Latin, dik dik! says the red-capped plover.

Gaius realises the situation.

You birds speak Latin? Mirabilis! May I ask you unus or duo quaestiones?

Nik nik! Responde mea quaestione! says the red capped plover, rudely.

Tik tik, says Gaius politely. Quid est?

Veracitas me portere albo underpants? asks the red capped plover.

Quidquid notio? asks Gaius. White underpants? ( puzzled, and lapsing into English).

The red-capped plover lowers his rufous crown and plunges his beak towards the questionable word on Gaius's notepad.

Underpants (as he sees it).

Underparts (as it is).

Non, non, says Gaius. Error maximus faces! White underparts, it's there in black and white!

The red- capped plover turns his head and peers at the offending word with his non-sticky eye.

Excusatio! Scrip-scrip terrabilis! says the red-capped plover.

And with that he hops back to the meeting of Important Birds.

Gaius follows him, on tip toe.

Will they continue to speak Latin? What a coup it will be, if they do.

But: Tik tik! Zwitt zwitt!. Kleep klepp! Sqaaaaah! Wheeeoo!

The Important Birds are in a tizz about something.

They have begun speaking in their mystic language, consisting of whistles and a degree of combinatorial phonology.

I see no alternative but to give a plain translation:

Pied oystercatcher: That fool has dropped his wheeled horse on our nest and all our eggs are broken!

Second pied oystercatcher: Alas! Broken, broken!

Fairy tern: The price you pay for wintering here.

Second pied oystercatcher: Alas! It should not be so.

Fairy tern: Of course but....

Red-capped plover:  And he thinks we wear white underpants as well.

Pied oystercatcher: Shameful!

Fairy tern: Let's all defecate on his wheeled horse, that will send a message.

Red-capped plover: Ha ha, yes! What's that saying? No one shits on me with impunity?

Fairy tern: It's Latin isn't it, that saying?

Red-capped plover: No, it's originally Bird.

Second pied oystercatcher: Never mind that, come on, let's do it!

They flutter up and one by one, they do it.

And so it is that when Gaius meets the others on the Tasman Highway just north of Orford, they are surprised to see his bicycle, formerly blue in colour, now sporting crusty speckles, brown and white.

A Brief Moment Of Dismay

In Orford:

Unni, Arthur, Schopenhauer and Captain Louttit are in Scorchers, eating wood oven pizzas.

I wouldn't choose this one again, says Schopenhauer. Sweet relish overpowers the taste of trout.

Give me the trout, says Captain Louttit. I'll eat it.

The trout's the best bit, says Schopenhauer. It's the sweet relish that's the problem.

And the crust's too thin, says Unni. I'm still hungry.

Me too, says Arthur. I'll order another one.

He goes over to the counter.

Captain Louttit watches him go.

That red beret that Arthur's wearing, says Captain Louttit, licking sweet relish from his feelers. I don't know why but it reminds me of an old acquaintance.

Arthur says it reminds him of Ageless, says Unni.

Captain Louttit does a double take.

Ageless! says Captain Louttit. Don't tell me you know him!

We know him, says Unni. He rode with us last year in the Tour de France. What a balls-up that was. How do you know him?

Everyone knows him, says Captain Louttit.

I don't know him, says Schopenhauer.

Arthur comes back to the table.

I ordered ham and pineapple, he says,

Everyone at the table looks disgusted.

.....

Out at the sand spit:

The Important Birds are having a meeting on the sand, behind a clump of ammophila, or marram grass.

The Important Birds present at the meeting are:

 Two Red-capped Plovers

Two Pied Oystercatchers

One Fairy Tern

Absent are three more Fairy Terns, who have flown north for the winter.

They communicate in incomprehensible bird language, as follows:

Red-capped Plover : tik tik ....tik tik

Pied Oystercatcher: klepp kleep......kleep klepp

Fairy Tern: zwitt zwitt zwitt....

Gaius drops his bicycle onto a clump of marram grass, not noticing a faint crunching sound, and creeps up on the Important Birds.

He takes out his notebook, and a pencil, and begins to write the following description:

white underparts....rufous crown and hindneck...pale loreal stripe

The red-capped plover hops over to him and takes a look at what he's writing.

The red-capped plover has a sticky eye, so when he reads (quite wrongly) his own description:

white underpants

he is dismayed  (briefly).

A Good Plan That Can't Possibly Go Wrong

Next morning, they debate the wisdom of leaving a note for Lisa Gershwin.

What should we say? says Unni. We've reclaimed Captain Louttit and we're sorry about the kettle?

Perhaps not, says Gaius. The power's off throughout the building. Who knows how many specimens have been affected? I'm thinking of the legal liability.

And it's Sunday, says Schopenhauer, complacently. No one need know.

So it's decided. They will remain anonymous.

Wake up Arthur! says Unni, shaking Arthur's shoulder. We're leaving.

Wagh! says Arthur. I mean....what?

Leaving, says Unni.

Wait! says Captain Louttit. How am I to travel? I've become accustomed to the special CSIRO water.

We shall bring some with us, says Gaius. Arthur, will you please find a container?

Arthur looks at Captain Louttit. What a princess. He's been wandering around Hobart for ages without any sort of water. And look at him in that stupid, stupid hat.

Arthur grabs the pale blue cloche hat from the head of Captain Louttit, and goes over to the waste bin in the corner. Tipping the waste onto the floor, ( paper, fish bones, hypodermic needles, cotton wool ) he pulls out the plastic bin liner and stuffs it into Captain Louttit's pale blue felt cloche hat.

Now that the hat is waterproof, Arthur fills it up with special CSIRO salt water from the private saltwater aquarium.

Get in, says Arthur.

Captain Louttit sticks one of this smallest legs in.

Ugh! Too cold! says Captain Louttit.

That's your fault, says Unni. The thermostat's not working. Nothing is. Come on, get in, we're going.

And so they leave the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre, just a tad worse than they found it.

.......

It is seventy eight kilometres from Hobart to Orford. Gaius, Schopenhauer, Arthur and Unni cycle down the Tasman Highway, in the crisp air of a winter Sunday morning.

Captain Louttit rides in Schopenhauer's basket, in his upturned bin-lined pale blue felt cloche hat.

Schnnnffffff! sniffs Schopenhauer. Is that the bin-liner?

Yes, says Captain Louttit. Nice, isn't it. I must thank Arthur. I must have seemed ungrateful at the time.

I'll pass it on, says Schopenhauer, riding faster.

.........

By lunch time they have reached the little coastal town of Orford, where the Prosser River enters Prosser Bay.

Orford, says Gaius, I feel I should know something about Orford. What is it?

Unni gets out her phone.

IBA, says Unni. Important Bird Area, identified by BirdLife International.

Wonderful! says Gaius. Where exactly?

A sandspit on the northern side of the Prosser River, says Unni, but we haven't .....

It's lunch time, says Schopenhauer.

And Arthur also thinks that it is lunch time.

I'll tell you what, says Gaius. To save time, I'll go out to the sand spit, while you all go into Orford and get some lunch. I'll meet you on the other side of Orford in an hour or two.

This seems like a good plan that can't possibly go wrong.

He Hasn't Even Heard The Question

Captain Louttit leads them to an unlatched door behind the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Centre.

Shh! They slip inside.

They tiptoe to the lab with the private saltwater aquarium, where there's a burning smell.

The power is off, but every few seconds the room lights up, thanks to the searchlights from the installation built by Rafael Lozano-Hemmer.

Gaius feels along the lab bench for the kettle.

Flash! There it is.

It seems to have boiled dry and there is black stuff on the wall around the electric socket.

Gaius points it out to Captain Louttit.

A salutory lesson for you, says Gaius.

Yes, says Schopenhauer. It's simple science. Never leave a kettle boiling.

Health and Safety, says Unni. It isn't even science. Just common sense.

I am first a lobster, says Captain Louttit, and second a sea captain, and third, the only one of our party who has had the forethought to secure a room in Hobart. So I will thank you all to shut up and be grateful. It's only a kettle.

Gaius, Schopenhauer, Unni and Arthur realise at once that this is true.

And anyway, what sort of laboratory has a kettle that doesn't have an automatic cutoff?

So they begin to speak of more important things.

What next? says Unni. Go home the way we came?

No, says Schopenhauer. Gaius and I decided it was a mistake to leave the coastline. Small wonder we were unsuccessful.

Hear, hear, says Captain Louttit. Stick to the coastline.

Okay, says Unni. I suggest we go back via Swansea, Bay of Fires and........the Dismal Swamp.

She looks at everyone in turn to see if anyone objects to Dismal Swamp.

It's the only blackwood sinkhole on earth. It would be such a shame to miss it, continues Unni.

Indeed? says Gaius pricking up his ears. The only....?

Dismal Swamp it is, says Schopenhauer.

Gaius looks annoyed.

It's just a teeny weeny bit out of the way, says Unni.

We must remember, says Gaius, that we need to get home in time to make our preparations for the Tour de France. When is it, Arthur?

Arthur has been looking through the window trying to mesmerize himself by staring at the flashing searchlights.....

Flash....flash....flash.....flash....flash.......

.....and he hasn't even heard the question.

The Consolations Of Technology

Those are my friends, says Schopenhauer, waving. Yoo hoo!

Unni stops.

That looks like Schopenhauer, she says.

They all go over to the bench where Schopenhauer is chatting with Rafael Lozano-Hemmer.

Here you are! says Unni. Did you and Gaius find any traces of the giant jellyfish?

No, says Schopenhauer. We decided we had reached an end point. And an end point, in science, is of course a new beginning.

Rafael Lozano-Hemmer looks impressed.

By the way, this is Rafael Lozano Hemmer, says Schopenhauer. The searchlights that you see criss-crossing the sky are part of his installation. It is based on the frustration of the human will.

Beaudelaire and Camus both look impressed.

Rafael Lozano-Hemmer less so.

At this moment Gaius returns.

Remarkable, says Gaius. I've been manipulating one of the levers. At first I thought that I was in control.....

But, says Rafael Lozano-Hemmer, as the different beams crossed in the sky they resisted your control and began to pulsate autonomously in the darkness.

Oh, says Gaius. Was it deliberate?

Yes, says Rafael Lozano-Hemmer.

I thought something was wrong, says Gaius. I tried dismantling it......I see now that I shouldn't have.

You succeeded ? asks Rafael Lozano-Hemmer.

No, no, says Gaius. I am a natural historian, not an engineer. The lever is slightly bent though and some paint is flaking off......

And now:

Let us leave this awkward scene.

Let us say it is five minutes later.

Rafael Lozano-Hemmer has gone off to his hotel.

Beaudelaire and Camus are about to go to theirs.

Would Arthur like to go with them?

No, for some odd reason Arthur would rather not.

Goodbye then. It was lovely. And thank you for the hats. Not to mention the invitation to the Red Death Ball, which was nothing less than thrilling.

Bye now. Bye now. Perhaps we'll meet again one day. Yes, hope so........

And now here are the four cyclists on a freezing night in Hobart, with nowhere to go.

Phuuff, says Unni. With all these people here for Dark Mofo, we'll never get a room.

Surely! says Schopenhauer.

Unni tries Wotif, Trivago, Tripadvisor and Last Minute.

Nothing available. Not even a cupboard.

Fear not, says Captain Louttit, (who has waited until now, for increased drama). I left a door unlatched at the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre, and the kettle boiling.

Only the first part of this sentence is consoling.

To Do With Human Will Power

In the Town Hall foyer:

What do you think? says Unni, pulling out the military cap.

Impossible! says Captain Louttit. I might as well continue to wear a barnacle! Where are they, by the way, those barnacles?

We let them go, says Unni. At Cemetery Rock.

Go? says Captain Louttit. My crew! You had no right to.

You didn't own them, says Unni.

I was in charge of them, says Captain Louttit.

Well, they're better off, says Unni. There was heavy wave action, and probably a tube worm zone as well.

No hat, no crew, sighs Captain Louttit. What else can go wrong?

I can't help noticing, says Unni, that you have a lovely mask on. Where did you get it?

Made it myself, says Captain Louttit, sulkily.

It's very nice, says Unni. It matches ...well it would have matched.... your carapace.

Silence.

I suppose you'll grow a new one, says Unni.

Silence.

Well, says Unni. I'm off now. Brrr! I bet it's cold outside.

She rummages in her back pack for a scarf or something.

And out drops the pale blue cloche.

Captain Louttit's eyes are out on stalks. Whoop! A pale blue cloche hat, made of wool, with a bit of cotton hanging off the side.

Oops! says Unni, the flower has fallen off. Who cares though.......stupid hat.

Don't you want it? asks Captain Louttit.

........

Outside:

Even more freezing.

Gaius has wandered down towards the Franklin Wharf, to have a go at manipulating one of the levers in the Articulated Intersect searchlight installation.

Schopenhauer, less scientifically minded, remains on the bench beside the Mexican-Canadian.

You seem to know a lot about it, says Schopenhauer.

It's my installation, says Rafael Lozano-Hemmer.

Quite simple I imagine, says Schopenhauer.

Not at all, says Rafael Lozano-Hemmer. There are the locations, and the angles, not to mention that the levers sometimes act against the will of the operator ......but perhaps you are not technically minded.

As a matter of fact, says Schopenhauer, I am deeply interested in anything to do with human will power.

Then why are you sitting on this bench my friend? asks Rafael Lozano-Hemmer. And why is it your companion who has gone down to the wharf to try and operate the lever?

I have always been something of an armchair philosopher......begins Schopenhauer.

But Rafael Lozano-Hemmer has stopped listening.

He is looking at the passing parade.

The passing parade at this moment is particularly interesting.

A tall young woman in a military cap and thermals, followed by a lobster in an over sized blue cloche hat, with a red horned mask just visible under the brim.

Behind them, a man in a black studded cloak and a mask of fractured mirrors, another man in a trench coat and red pitted plague mask, and a younger man in a red beret with eye holes, a black Bossini jacket with a Johnny collar, and Brave Soul Paisley Skull shorts, and whose knees do not look in the best condition.

The Usurper-Hero

Camus and Beaudelaire are in the green room, bickering.

You switched parts deliberately, says Camus. And I know why.

Oh, do you? says Beaudelaire.

I do, says Camus. You're furious because I bought the three hats. You're jealous.

Not at all, says Beaudelaire. I thought it would be an amusing reversal. You as the Red Death, me as Prince Prospero. My turn to be the  hero.

And wield the knife, says Camus. And in short, control the action, while I.....

Arthur and Unni enter the green room.

Albert, says Unni. Where's your costume? Are you okay?

Yes, says Camus. No thanks to Charles, the usurper-hero.

The atmosphere is icy in the green room.

Arthur pulls his red beret down over his ears until his nose sticks out through one of the eye holes.

Ha ha, laughs someone from behind a high backed chair.

Who is it? Unni goes over.

Black cloak and red horned mask notwithstanding, there's no doubt it's Captain Louttit.

Captain Louttit! cries Unni. What a surprise! And why are you laughing? You can't possibly see Arthur through the chair.

Captain Louttit has been laughing at the phrase usurper-hero, not at Arthur.

But when he sees Arthur, he laughs even louder.

Nice one, says Captain Louttit. Then suddenly, remembering his loss.....

A hat! Where did you get it? asks Captain Louttit.

Is this the famous lobster? asks Camus. The one we bought the hat for?

Captain Louttit leaps out of his chair.

Ouff! Not a good idea when you're without your carapace.

Oh no! Poor Captain Louttit! cries Unni.

Did you buy me a Captain's hat? asks Captain Louttit, faintly.

Yes, Captain Louttit, says Unni. Well...... no, not exactly, but it's the next best thing.......come with me. It's in my back pack in the foyer.

She picks him up and carries him from the green room.

Let's go, says Beaudelaire. I want to see this. He's bound not to like it.

He'll like it, says Albert Camus. What do you think, Arthur?

It'll test his strength of character, says Arthur, raising the red beret, and earning the admiration of the writers

.......

Outside. Brrrr!

Schopenhauer and Gaius are being treated to a light show above the Hobart skyline.

Eighteen searchlights cut the sky like sabres, in six pods of three.

Spectacular, says Schopenhauer. But a waste of money.

Indeed, says Gaius. Wonderful, but profligate.

A third person sits down on the bench beside them.

You must spend money to make money, says the third person, in a Mexican-Canadian accent. These festivals bring in the tourists, and this light installation, Articulated Intersect, is a draw card. The public can manipulate the lights themselves, by means of levers.....

On hearing this, Gaius becomes interested in learning more about the workings, but Schopenhauer's opinion remains the same, which is part of the reason he will never be a decent scientist.

Two Deaths As If Nothing Has Happened

Captain Louttit is placed on a silver tray, reserved for sacrificial animals.

What just happened? he cries, to the endangered quoll lying beside him.

The endangered quoll raises its mask.

Nothing, says the endangered quoll. It's just a party.

Can we go now? asks Captain Louttit.

Not till they bring out the poached hearts and kidneys, says the endangered quoll.

Hell's maritime bells! exclaims Captain Louttit.

Only kidding, grins the endangered quoll.

The endangered quoll rolls over to the edge of the silver tray and drops off gracefully.

Captain Louttit does the same.

........

Camus has quit the twisted canapé in the black room, leaving Unni alone there.

The Red Death stalks the corridors.

People in their Gothic costumes draw back fearfully.

Ooh! The Red Death! Is it catching?

A tall man in a dark cloak spiked with silver studs and a mask made of broken glass fragments approaches.

Aah! Prince Prospero, perhaps he will slay the Red Death, and save everyone in the abbey (or Hobart Town Hall).

He draws a serrated steel knife from under his dark studded cloak.

(Sharp Gothic intakes of breath are sucked into the lungs of the Gothic observers. Uuuh! Uuuh!)

Shooong!

He plunges the shining knife into the costume of Albert Camus.

Woooouuufffff. The costume of Albert Camus collapses to the Town Hall carpet, (woven lovingly by local artisans).

Gothic couples crowd forward gingerly. The Red Death is.... dead?

Someone bravely lifts the pitted red plague mask from the face of the dead one.

Let's see his face! Let's all see it!

But amazingly, unless you have read the Poe story, in which case you know it, there is no one behind the mask, or inside the costume. No one at all.

How is it done?

It is only too easy in fiction.

 ........

Arthur has finally found Unni in the black room.

Here she is, still sitting on the twisted canapé, fingering her ipod.

Arthur! says Unni.

How did you know it was me? asks Arthur.

The red beret, says Unni. You've cut eye holes. That's such a lame costume.

You missed the dénouement, says Arthur. Beaudelaire slew the Red Death. The Red Death appeared to be real, then it wasn't. It was merely a symbol.

No it wasn't, says Unni. It was Albert Camus.

No one knows that, says Arthur.

He does, says Unni. We'd better find him.

They leave the black room.

......

Camus is sitting on a green canapé in the green room, recovering.

Beaudelaire walks in, as if nothing has happened.

Espèce de con! growls Camus.

Beautiful Wanton Bizarre

Gaius and Schopenhauer are cycling back to Hobart.

Here they are now.

It is early evening and the outdoor markets are closed. The lights are coming on in the cafes. Dead leaves litter the pavement. There's a wintry chill in the air.

They sit down on a park bench. Schopenhauer closes his eyes.

Gaius fiddles about with his phone.

A black shape flits past, behind them.

It is Captain Louttit, escaped from his prison. He wears a black cloak, made of something he found in a cupboard, tied round his neck with red string.

On his face he wears a fantastic horned mask made of his own discarded carapace, made blood red by boiling.

He is heading for Hobart Town Hall.

........

At the Town Hall, a masked crowd is gathering, dressed in delirious fancies and madman fashions, beautiful, wanton, bizarre.

They show their tickets, and flow through the door, into the seven chambers.

Each chamber is decorated in a single colour. Blue, purple, green, orange, white, violet......and the last room is black.

A band plays peculiar music. Ding-ding-dong-yeeee.  A clock strikes. The band stops.  The striking ends. The band plays. Ding-dong-yeeee.

There are cocktails, wines, aperitifs, sacrificial offerings.

And Red Death is stalking the corridors.

.......

Camus thinks the whole thing is ridiculous. What's he supposed to do next?

Where is Charles Beaudelaire? Where is Arthur Rimbaud?

He sits on a twisted canapé in the black room, next to Unni.

Go on, urges Unni. Do your thing.

Camus pulls the Red Death costume down over his trench coat, and adjusts his red pitted plague mask.

He gets up and performs a dispirited plod round the room.

A bizarrely dressed couple come in, and stare at him.

She: That's the Red Death.

He: Fuck is it?

She: Did you not read the......geez, Henry, you're hopeless.

He: Let's get some more of that cheese.

.........

Captain Louttit is enjoying the evening.

He slips under tables and chairs. His black cloak hides his soft body.

His red horned mask hides his expression of glee.

Suddenly, he is whisked up into the ether, by a black leather gloved hand, and placed on a stone slab.

The clock strikes. The music stops. A knife flashes.

Then laughter. And more ding-ding-yeee.

The Fantastic Red Horned Mask

It is the weekend. Captain Louttit has the place to himself.

He hatches a plan to escape from the CSIRO private salt water aquarium.

But wait! Before leaving, a red mask for tonight is in order.

He gathers together large fragments of carapace, and clutching them tightly, rises to the surface.

He then clambers out of the private saltwater aquarium.

He waddles over to the communal kettle, at the end of the bench, and flicks on the switch.

Soon the water is boiling.

He drops pieces of carapace in.

Will they turn red? Well, he hopes so.

Magic! They naturally do.

Now Captain Louttit  drags himself to the cupboard and looks for appropriate tools.

Scientist always have scrapers and cutters and files.

And that's what he finds in the cupboard.

He settles down in the corner to fashion a fantastic red horned mask for tonight's Red Death Ball.

........

Arthur and Beaudelaire have gone off together somewhere.

Perhaps to find a dead fish, or bamboo sticks, or just an espresso.

Whatever the reason, Unni is alone with Camus.

He seems to be expecting that she will now wear the new hat.

She shoves it into her backpack. It immediately loses its shape.

A darkness lurks at the back of the eyes of Camus.

She remembers his novel. The knife. The blinding flash of sunlight. The random unexplained murder.

But no.

You should find out more about Dark MOFO, says Unni.

I suppose so, says Albert Camus.

Let's ask Lisa, says Unni. She's over there.

They go over to where Lisa is standing in front of a fish stall, poking knowledgeably at heaps of dead fish.

Lisa, says Unni. What exactly is MOFO?

It's our cool winter festival here in Hobart, says Lisa.  A celebration of art, food, music and film. Actually, more than cool, it's always effing freezing! I hope you've brought your warm thermals to wear under your costumes tonight.

Sounds awesome, says Unni. Are you going?

Not to the Red Death Ball, says Lisa. Two hundred and forty dollars a ticket! I don't think so. You guys are so lucky. But  hey, how come you don't know?

She looks suspiciously at Albert Camus, who affects to look like a man who is going to a Red Death Ball in full possession of the relevant information.

Oh, you do know, says Lisa. Well, guys, have fun! Sacrifice an animal for me! Ha ha! Only kidding.....

........

Red Death Ball Costumes. Sacrificial animals. Thermal undies.

It might suit Beaudelaire. But Camus can't imagine why he was invited.

Red Death Ball

On the beach, Gaius and Schopenhauer look for the smear spot.

It was here, says Schopenhauer. Just here, near that stone.

That's helpful, says Gaius, bending down and gazing intently.

Anything? asks Schopenhauer.

Nothing, says Gaius.

So much for science, says Schopenhauer.

........

At 'Hats on Salamanca', Beaudelaire will not look at Camus.

He is staring at Arthur

That beret doesn't suit you, says Beaudelaire.

I know, says Arthur, taking it off.

He offers Beaudelaire a whole fudge bar.

Kahlua Dream.

You monkey, says Beaudelaire. Do you still fight your friends with dead fish?

Bamboo sticks, says Arthur.

If you don't want that beret, says Unni. I'll have it.

He wants it, says Albert Camus.

Beaudelaire glares at his comrade.

..........

In the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre private salt water aquarium, Captain Louttit sheds the last bits of his shell.

Aah, that feels better. He flexes his soft parts. Ooh, ooh, ooh, aah.

He looks around at the bare walls of the laboratory.

No wait, they are not bare at all.

Near the door is a cork board pinned with notices and posters.

One is a red and black poster for MOFO.

Dark MOFO: The Red Death Ball. It's on this weekend.

Captain Louttit, lover of  Poe and his spine-chilling stories, makes a resolution to go.

...........

So much for science? says Gaius. You don't mean that. We're just getting started.

Are we? says Schopenhauer. I thought this was the end point.

An end point in science, says Gaius, is never an end point.

Then why is it called an end point? asks Schopenhauer (quite reasonably).

It was you who called it an end point, says Gaius ( just as reasonably).

True, says Schopenhauer. But may I ask, now what?

We consider why we have failed, says Gaius. In fact I have already considered it. We didn't follow the coastline.

Schopenhauer is impressed with this line of thinking which now seems so obvious.

They leave the beach, as the tide is coming in, to wash away the last traces of what it was Schopenhauer slipped on, wherever it happened to be, which was not in the place they were looking.

So much for an end point.

Where He Gained Strong Impressions

It's not far to Hobart. They get to the markets by nine.

The Salamanca Market is full of tourists buying colourful produce and browsing the bric-a-brac stalls.

Unni spots 'Hats on Salamanca', on the corner of Mr Wooby Lane.

She goes over to look at the hats.

Arthur has not followed Unni. He has stopped at the House Of Fudge stall, to examine the fudges.

Camus has stopped at Macarons by Ruby, to check out the fresh macarons.

Beaudelaire looks at a display of toy wooden boats with nostalgia. As a young man he once sailed to India, and gained strong impressions.

Unni stands in front of the hat stall.

A hat for the lobster? says someone. How about that one?

She turns. It's Lisa Gershwin.

Hi, Lisa, says Unni. A hat, yes. How did you know?

He's done nothing but grumble, says Lisa. I'm sure it's to do with the moulting.

All these hats are too big though, says Unni. And they're not really for captains.

A military cap would do nicely, says Lisa. And that one's quite little.

Unni picks up a military cap, in distressed weathered cotton, with decorative stitching. Yes, that would suit Captain Louttit.

Arthur arrives, his pockets bulging with something.

What's that in your pockets? asks Unni.

Samples of fudge says Arthur. Licorice bomb, Tassie Tiger, Ginger Infusion and Kahlua Dream.

I didn't know they gave samples, says Lisa.

They don't, says Arthur, surprised.

Here comes Albert Camus with a box of macarons from the House of Ruby.

Found a hat for your lobster? asks Albert Camus.

Yes, says Unni. This one. She waves the military cap in the air.

Memories of Algiers, smiles Camus. And how about you? May I buy you one? This one is so chic.

He points to a pale blue felt cloche with a self-coloured flower.

Lisa giggles.

And who is your friend? asks Albert Camus.

Lisa. She's a scientist and jellyfish expert, says Unni. Lisa, this is Albert Camus.

I recognised him, says Lisa. He's here for Dark MOFO. Hello, Albert. Been buying macarons?

Yes, for my wife and children, says Albert. Look. Four pink ones, two blue ones.

He opens the striped macaron box.

Strawberry and Cream, Sour Cherry, Rose, Raspberry, Blueberry, Boysenberry.

The perfect macaron family, says Lisa.

Would you like a hat, Lisa? asks Albert, overdoing the gallantry.

Thanks, says Lisa, but no.

I'll have one, says Arthur, picking up a red beret. This one reminds me of Ageless.

Done, says Camus.

And before anyone can stop him, ( not that anyone tries) he has paid for all three of the hats. What a charmer.

And now here comes Charles Beaudelaire, with a brown paper parcel.

He has purchased a boat, yes, a toy one, and is currently happy.

But what is this? Camus has pipped him. Bought everyone hats! Including the fictitious lobster.

Merde! What a bâtard!

Modernity Absurdity Discovery

Gaius and Schopenhauer get up early and head for the beach on their bicycles.

Beaudelaire is a grumpy old codger, says Schopenhauer.

Indeed, says Gaius. He reminds me of you, in some ways. Though I don't mean to say that you're grumpy.

Of course not, says Schopenhauer. I have good reason to be cheerful. Travelling, eating fine food, becoming an expert in all matters scientific......I believe I'm on the brink of discovering a new jellyfish species. You and I will be feted.

Yes, yes, says Gaius. But being feted is not why we do it.

Of course not, says Schopenhauer quickly.

They stop at the edge of the beach and look for the smear of the jellyfish from yesterday evening.

...........

Arthur and Unni, Camus and Beaudelaire are also up early.

They meet at the front of Villa Howden with their bicycles, and set off in the direction of Hobart.

Beaudelaire rides up behind Arthur.

That Schopenhauer is a funny old codger, says Beaudelaire.

He's all right, says Arthur. And what's more he pays for everything.

Same old Arthur, says Beaudelaire.

Ah! says Unni, who is right behind them You do know each other!

Yes, says Beaudelaire. We do.

Unni drops back level with Albert Camus.

What's your thingummy? asks Unni.

Pardon? says Albert Camus.

Literary thinger, says Unni. You must know what you're going to?

Charles! calls Albert Camus. What is it we're going to?

MOFO! yells Beaudelaire. Don't ask me. No doubt it stands for something.

That sounds typical, says Albert Camus.

It sounds modern, says Unni. Will you be reading a poem?

I doubt it, says Camus. What's that thing you said you were going to?

The Salamanca Markets, says Unni. We're in search of a hat.

Very nice, says Camus, imagining Unni in a hat. A perky French one. How cute she will look.

A captain's hat, for a lobster, says Unni.

What did she say? asks Beaudelaire, who has been trying to listen.

A captain's hat for a lobster, says Arthur, helpfully. He lost it.

Beaudelaire is a modernist. In fact he invented the term

In French of course. Modernité, or whatever.

The point being, he likes anything new.

Like a captain's hat for a lobster.

He cheers up instantly. Life is no longer tedious. He will gladly do MOFO.

But first he will go to the Salamanca Markets with these absurd young people, and look for a hat for a lobster.

No doubt Camus will go too.

And Once It Was a Cattery

Villa Howden is just down the road. A historical French or Italian-style villa built in the 1970s. A retreat, and later a cattery. Now a luxurious Band B, in beautiful manicured grounds.

Luckily, they have a vacancy, although it is late in the day.

Schopenhauer is elated. He immediately takes off his trousers. (As soon as he gets to his room).

Gaius goes into the French style sitting room, and sits by the fire, to wait for Schopenhauer to deal with his stain.

A sour-looking gentleman in a black coat looks up from his reading.

Very nice here, says Gaius. French provincial . Wonderful doors.

The sour-looking gentleman looks at the doors, scowling.

A man hurries in through the wonderful doors, wearing a gabardine trench coat.

There you are, growls the sour-faced man.

Camus! says Gaius, recognising his old acquaintance.

Gaius! says Camus. Are you here for the thinga-me-jig?

No, no, says Gaius. The jellyfish. But not here exactly. My travelling companion has sat upon something and we're really just here for the laundry.

Join us for dinner, says Albert Camus. This is my friend Beaudelaire. He's also here for the thingummy.

A literary thingummy, says Beaudelaire. In the middle of winter.  Nothing could be more tedious.

Yes, says Gaius, nothing's more tedious than a thingummy.

Ha ha, laughs Camus. Still the same old Gaius.

Gaius looks puzzled.

Arthur and Unni come down from upstairs.

Ah! says Gaius. Come here, Arthur and Unni. This is Albert Camus, and his friend Beaudelaire, here for a winter literary thingummy. Arthur too is a poet......

Beaudelaire! says Unni. My dad's a Beaudelairian! Ever since he met Charles Red-Belly, the python.

Of course, says Gaius. Charles Red-Belly! And dear Olive Python! How long ago that all seems....

What exactly do you mean by a Beaudelairian? asks Beaudelaire.

Oh you, know, says Unni. Evil is natural. The Chinese tell the time by looking into the eyes of cats.

Beaudelaire looks flattered. He glances at Arthur.

Arthur makes a face like a cat.

But before things can go any further, Schopenhauer comes into the sitting room, wearing complimentary slippers and a matching complimentary dressing gown.

Forgive the informality, says Schopenhauer, smiling. No trousers.

I believe you sat on something unpleasant, says Camus. Did you succeed in getting it off?

The main bulk of it, says Schopenhauer. but there's a pink stain in the middle.

I knew it , says Gaius. It's a lions mane jelly. We must return to the beach in the morning.

Not me and Arthur, says Unni. We're heading back into Hobart, for the Salamanca Markets.

So are we, says Camus. Perhaps we might go back together. Are you cycling?

Yes, says Unni. Are you?

Oh yes, says Camus.

Camus on a bike. Now that is entirely believable. But Beaudelaire? That does stretch it a bit.

A Smear Is a Smear Is A Smear

Gaius! says Unni. Schopenhauer's slipped and sat down on something slimy!

Gaius peers at the seat of Schopenhauer's pants, with scientific interest.

Could he have sat on a jellyfish?

But a smear is a smear is a smear.

Where exactly? asks Gaius.

Over there, says Schopenhauer, pointing. What does it matter?

My dear chap, says Gaius. It matters for identification.

Of course, says Schopenhauer. For the purposes of stain removal.

That too, says Gaius.

It could be a jellyfish, says Unni, dabbing as lightly as possible at Schopenhauer's bottom, so as not to distress him. It's clear and wobbly.

Any traces of pink? asks Gaius.

No, says Unni.

Arthur, come with me, says Gaius. We'll look for the culprit.

Arthur and Gaius walk slowly over the Howden rocks looking for things that are slimy.

It is marvellous how many things are slimy, and wobbly and clear.

Not all of them jellies.

Arthur spies a used condom, and tactfully kicks it away.

........

Later. Still on the freezing cold beach.

We need to find somewhere to stay overnight, says Schopenhauer. Somewhere with a laundry.

I met this young boy, says Gaius. He lives over there somewhere. He was called back for dinner.

We could .....says Schopenhauer.

No we couldn't, says Unni.

We could ask, says Gaius.

Yes, says Arthur. Let's go.

They get back on their bikes and ride along Howden Road looking for occupied houses.

Here is one with the lights on. Knock, knock.

Xavier opens the door. Hello, says Xavier. What do you want?

Does your mum have a laundry? begins Schopenhauer.

We're looking for somewhere to stay, cuts in Unni. Somewhere with a laundry. Not your house, she adds, with a look that she hopes is disarming.

A look lost on Xavier.

Mum! yells Xavier.

Mum comes to the door.

They want to use our washing machine, says Xavier.

Sorry, says mum, firmly. It's broken. But try Villa Howden, down the road.

Thank you, says Unni, on behalf of them all. And off they go, riding.......

........

Villa Howden, says Schopenhauer. That sounds more like it.

I'll google it, says Unni.

She taps at her phone.

Ooh, says Unni. It's gorgeous. It looks like an Italian villa. It's got free wifi, a saltwater swimming pool, a library.....

It will be pricey, says Gaius.

Never mind, says Schopenhauer, sliding dangerously about on the tan San Marco saddle of the Platonic Ideal.

Stones Placed In One's Path

Howden beach is a horrible beach if you like sandy beaches. A good one, if you like stones.

Gaius likes stones. He picks his way along the dismal foreshore, looking for interesting specimens. A deceased jellyfish would be a bonus.

Schopenhauer likes stones. Or, let us say, he thinks he likes stones. It is no idle coincidence that his friend Goethe also loved stones.

Schopenhauer ventures down the beach a short distance, and randomly picks up a stone. A brown one with speckles. It looks like an egg but it isn't.

What was it Goethe said?

Even stones placed in one's path can be made into something beautiful.

(No doubt it sounds better in German).

Schopenhauer is looking at the egg stone, and not looking where he is going. He could easily slip on a jellyfish.

Arthur and Unni don't like stones. At least not in particular.

They sit huddled together on a large yellow rock near the bushes.

They are laughing.

They think it would be funny if Schopenhauer slipped on a jellyfish and stained his immaculate trousers.

A boy appears on the beach in the distance. It's Xavier Lim.

He walks past Gaius. Gaius looks up.

Hello, says Gaius. Are you the boy who found the giant lions mane jellyfish?

How did you know? asks Xavier Lim.

Just a hunch, says Gaius. This beach is not very populated. It seemed worth asking.

We're famous, says Xavier Lim. Me and my sister. And dad. He took the photo.

I've seen it, says Gaius. Have you seen any jellyfish lately?

No, says Xavier. But last summer there were lots of sightings. Lisa Gershwin says it's important to find out why they're increasing in numbers

I know Lisa, says Gaius. She seemed a bit cagey.

She's writing a paper, says Xavier. She thinks the one I found is a new species, and if it is she can give it a name. It's a secret until she's certain.

You seem to know a lot about jellyfish, says Gaius. Have you heard about the bright purple thysanostoma, found recently in Coolum?.

Yes, says Xavier. Lisa thinks they might be a new species as well. And have you heard the latest on comb jellies? It's really amazing.

No, says Gaius. I should be very pleased if you'd tell me.

Their DNA has almost none of the genes other animals use to make muscles, says Xavier. In fact, their entire nervous system seems to have evolved independently of all other animals. They've been given their own separate branch on the tree of life.

Goodness me! says Gaius. Are we rethinking evolution? Where might one find a  comb jelly?

But before Xavier can answer his dad calls him home for dinner.

Xavier runs off.

Gaius returns to the rock where Arthur and Unni are helping Schopenhauer brush something slimy off the seat of his trousers.

And You Don't Get Upset

Where are the barnacles? asks Schopenhauer, when Arthur and Unni come back.

They chose freedom, says Unni.

I was unaware they had a right to choose freedom, says Schopenhauer. They formed part of Gaius's collection.

They formed the entirety of my collection, says Gaius. I'll collect more of them on the way back.

You are becoming a philosopher, say Schopenhauer. Just as I am becoming a scientist.

I have long been a philosopher, says Gaius.

Schopenhauer waits for a matching compliment. That would have been nice.

But the compliment is not forthcoming.

Of course there is more to philosophy than mere resignation, says Schopenhauer.

Gaius is no longer listening.

We must get on to Howden, says Gaius. Arthur, where is it from here?

Half an hour away, down Brightwater Road, says Unni. But isn't it lunch time?

Yes, says Schopenhauer. It is lunch time. I saw a cafe on the beachfront at the bay.

.........

They ride back down Ocean Esplanade to Beach Cafe. Beach Cafe looks posh.

Would you like a table upstairs? asks the waiter. There's a wonderful view of the bay.

We would, thank you, says Schopenhauer.

Soon they are sitting upstairs in the Beach Cafe, perusing the menu.

Order whatever you like, says Schopenhauer. I'm in a good mood today. You want to know why?

Why? asks Unni. Oh, I know! It's because of the barnacles.

Yes, says Schopenhauer. I disliked having them in my basket.

You should have said so, says Gaius.

I did say so, says Schopenhauer.

The waiter comes back for their order.

I'll have Beach Parma, says Arthur. Crumbed chicken with bell pepper coulis.

Me too, says Unni.

I'll have pork belly and crispy noodle salad with dried shallots, quince jelly and strawberry chilli dressing, says Schopenhauer.

I'll just have dessert, says Gaius. I'll have the  vanilla and raspberry panna cotta with fairy floss, thank you.

Fairy floss!

If the others had seen that on the menu, they would all have had it.

But you get what you get, and you don't get upset.

.........

Mid afternoon. Becoming chilly. They ride into Howden.

A small relatively isolated community on the shore of South West Bay, that verges on bushland.

Gaius heads for the beach, followed by Schopenhauer, Arthur and Unni.

At last. This is where the giant lions mane jellyfish was found, washed up on the beach all those months ago.

Sand, sea and darkening sky.

Seaweed. Stones. Broken pieces of crab claw. A half eaten apple.

A stiffening wind.

An unpleasant realisation.

They may have come all this way, through all these tribulations (and lunches and dinners), to end up finding nothing at all.

In And Out Of Situ

In a way, they are thinking of jumping.

Unni is thinking of Arthur jumping. It's the sort of thing he would do.

Arthur is thinking the opposite. If she jumps, what will he do?

He starts to unbutton his jacket and stares down at the gurgling water, heaving with seaweed.

Blurp, blurp!

Are you thinking of jumping? asks Unni.

No, are you?

No.

I was thinking, says Arthur. All this water. If we'd waited.

Yeah, says Unni.  They would have survived till we got here. Impatient little buggers.

We're here now, says Arthur.

And where are they? says Unni. In a screw top bottle. So what good did it do them?

We could let them out, says Arthur.

I don't know, says Unni. It was really hard getting them in.

.......

Schopenhauer has discovered a midden. A heap of old shells and bones. He picks up a handful and carries it carefully back to where Gaius is snoozing.

Gaius is unimpressed with Schopenhauer's field skills.

Such things are better examined in situ, says Gaius. But of course you weren't to know that.

Schopenhauer finds himself mystified by the scientific method.

Then why are barnacles not better examined in situ?

He doesn't like to ask, so he philosophises:

What is the difference, between old shells and bones and live barnacles? Hum....Aha!.... Life! It is obvious.

His thoughts pass from the general to the particular. Yes, the barnacles. He should let them out.

Too late! Arthur and Unni have come down from their vertiginous rock arch and taken the bottle.

They have unscrewed the top, and tipped out the CSIRO water..

Unni has tried to prise Captain Goose and Captain Wally out through the neck.

Impossible! gasps Unni,  giving Arthur the bottle.

Easy! says Arthur, smashing the bottle on a rock.

.........

Captain Goose and Captain Wally drift down, down, to the sea floor below Cemetery Rock. A flat purple fish shimmies past.

A ray ripples towards them, before turning sharply and rippling away.

The seaweed sways this way and that, rubbery, feathery, yellow and purple and brown.

A flat-headed cat shark noses up to them, spotted with denticles.

Save us! cries Captain Goose. This isn't a Blowhole!

A common mistake, says the cat shark. What kind of habitat are you used to?

Oh, don't even ask what we're used to, shudders Captain Wally.

We like heavy wave action, says Captain Goose. A rocky shelf where we can live just above the tube worm zone would be perfect.

That's right, says Captain Wally, admiring his quick-thinking friend.

Then Soldiers Rocks would suit you, says the cat shark. If you don't mind the occasional visitor dropping in unexpectedly. Come on, I'll take you.

They go.

Jumping The Cemetery

They ride down the A6. No one is talking.

Correction. The barnacles are talking, but no one can hear them, in the bottle.

Captain Goose: Hey! Hey! Hey! Oi!

Captain Wally: May as well give up.

Captain Goose: What if they've forgotten?

Captain Wally: What?

Captain Goose: The Blowhole!

Captain Wally: Ooh, the Blowhole. What if they forgot?

Captain Goose: Exactly. Jump up and down a bit, will you. And shout.

Captain Wally (jumping): Blowhole! Blowhole!

Captain Goose: Excellent man! Blowhole! Blowhole!

Schopenhauer rides methodically, behind Gaius.

He is keeping his eye open for the turn off to Blackmans Bay.

Suddenly he notices that his bicycle basket is thrumming.

Thrummm! Thrummm! He slows down and looks in.

The barnacles are enjoying the ride, thinks Schopenhauer. He can see their little mouths, opening.

What are they mouthing? Schopenhauer wonders. It looks like a mariners' song. Yo ho! Yo ho!

How jolly the life of a tar.

He nods at the barnacles, and grins, as you would to a capering sailor.

Yo ho, yo ho, sings Schopenhauer, speeding up again.

What's that ? says Gaius, slowing down. Did I hear you say Blowhole, Blowhole?

No, says Schopenhauer. Yo Ho! But yes, we must look out for the turn off. We're stopping off there, remember?

Of course I remember, says Gaius. And here's the turn off. And Arthur and Unni, waiting. Hello, have you two made up your quarrel?

What quarrel? asks Unni. Arthur and me are like that.

She crosses one finger over another, to Arthur's chagrin.

Very good, says Gaius. Now, let's find the Blowhole.

They ride down Blowhole Road to the esplanade, and follow the signs to the northern end of the beach.

The Blowhole is a rock arch, through which you can see the sea rocking and waving and sucking and splashing. Local boys like to jump off it. It's called jumping the cemetery.

Here are some local boys now, in their swim shorts, Axel and Macca.

Foreigners! hisses Axel, spotting Gaius and Schopenhauer. Let's go.

Wait, boys, says Gaius. Is this the Blowhole?

Yeah, says Macca. We're just leavin'.

Axel and Macca melt away, muttering something about jumping off Soldiers Rocks being harder.

Ah, very pleasant, says Gaius, sitting down in a comfortable spot to watch the sea cavorting through the frame of the Blowhole. I should not be surprised to find that this was once an aboriginal gathering place. There may well be a midden nearby.....

Schopenhauer wanders off to look for a midden. It would be a scoop if he found one. He pats the notebook in his trouser pocket.

Gaius closes his eyes.

Captain Goose and Captain Wally are frantic, inside the bottle. Thrumm Thrumm!

They can see, through the salt water and the glass bottle and over the rim of the bicycle basket, the rocky arch of the blowhole, distorted by diffraction.

Suddenly they both stiffen. (Why shouldn't a barnacle stiffen?)

They look at one another. Is that Arthur, standing up there? And the other one? Is it Unni?

So high! Are they thinking of jumping?

Resolution and Blame

This is like one of those management questions, says Unni.

And I could resolve it, says Arthur, except I'm the sticking point.

Has anyone done a management course? asks Unni.

Of course neither Gaius nor Schopenhauer has done a management course.

Well, dad has, says Unni. And this is how he would resolve it.

She takes Arthur's bottle and pours the water onto the pavement. Then she tips the CSIRO water into the bottle.

What sort of management course did he do? asks Arthur.

Organizational Management in Christian Leadership, says Unni.

You owe me a water, says Arthur.

No, I don't, says Unni. You nicked it.

Gaius and Schopenhauer purport to look shocked.

Oi! shouts Captain Goose. We're just sitting here now with no water!

 Blessed are the meek, says Unni, nastily.

Doesn't that sentiment contradict your interpretation of Christian Leadership? asks Schopenhauer.

No, snaps Unni. Give me that cup.

She upturns the cup, and the barnacles drop onto the pavement.

She picks them up, and forces first Captain Goose, then Captain Wally, into the bottle, and screws down the top.

So it's resolved, but rather unpleasantly.

Perhaps we should blame Pastor Moon.

No Water No Hat No Tin No Lid No Nothing

Arthur and Unni have been sidetracked, looking for a hat shop.

They are sitting in the Tricycle Cafe and Bar.

This is cool, says Unni, I love the little tricycles on the wall.

Latte? says the waitress.

Mine, says Unni. Hey, d'you know if there's a hat shop near here?

Try the Spacebar, says the waitress. But if you wait until tomorrow you can buy cool hats at the Salamanca Markets.

What happened to my water? says Arthur.

What water? says the waitress. Did you order water?

Yes, says Arthur.

What kind of water? asks the waitress.

The usual kind, says Arthur.

For some reason this answer pisses off the waitress. She flounces off and disappears behind the counter.

Unni finishes off her latte, and they both get up to leave.

There is a bottle of water sitting on the counter. Arthur thinks it will be his. He picks it up, and walks out of the cafe.

They find the Spacebar Gallery, off Salamanca, and go inside.

There are tee shirts, knicknacks and one or two peculiar hats. One cap has two holes in the brim, for eye holes.

Not very captain-like, says Unni.

They ask the owner, Pixx.

Sorry, says Pixx, no captain's hats. Try the Salamanca Markets tomorrow. Hats on Salamanca. Their stall is right next to Wooby Lane.

Arthur goes outside, followed by Unni.

They sit on a seat in the chilly sunshine, Mount Wellington looming in the background.

I should call Gaius, says Unni. See what they're doing.

She calls his number.

Hello? says Gaius. Is that you Unni? Where on earth is Arthur? We need that tin.

What for? asks Unni.

The barnacles, says Gaius. We want to go to Howden but we can't go anywhere unless we find a lid.

Uh, says Unni. You guys are hopeless. Where are you? Oh wait! I can see you! Stop right there, we're coming.

Fancy that. Hobart must be quite small.

Now they are all together.

Schopenhauer gives Arthur the bandages and Betadine from Lisa Gershwin.

Gaius asks Arthur for the tin.

Arthur has lost the tin. But he has the bottle of water.

You're not putting us in that! says Captain Goose, popping his head up from the polystyrene cup that Schopenhauer has been carefully balancing in his bicycle basket.

But it has a lid, says Schopenhauer. You have little choice in the matter.

What kind of water is it? asks Captain Wally.

The usual kind, says Arthur.

No good, says Captain Wally. This water that we're in is proper salty water from the CSIRO.

Empty the bottle, Arthur, says Unni. And fill it with the water from the cup. Then they can go in the bottle with the lid on.

But Arthur refuses to tip out his water.

How to resolve it?

It's like one of those problems that they give you when you do a management course.