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.