No Kelp Floats By

Baudin and Dufresne make their way through the streets of Auckland, to the wharf precinct.

Did you get the impression they were glad to be rid of us? asks Baudin.

No, says Dufresne.

Perhaps I'm overly sensitive, says Baudin.

Yes, says Dufresne. And who cares anyway. We could do with a challenge.

They pass a marine store.

Do you have any funds? asks Baudin.

Of course not, says Dufresne. 

They keep going.

Soon they arrive at a place from which they can sit and look out at the harbour.

There are many types of vessels.

None of them small.

Remember Louttit? says Baudin.

Of course I remember Louttit, says Dufresne.

He sailed around in a vessel that he had constructed, says Baudin.

What are you talking about? says Dufresne. He worked at the CSIRO in a marine lab.

Before that, says Baudin. When I met him off the coast of Lorne, he had a small tourism business.

And his own vessel? asks Dufresne. 

I believe it was his, says Baudin. It was extraordinarily simple.

Let me guess, says Dufresne. Was it wooden?

No, says Baudin. I'll save you guessing. It was a giant kelp, that he had succeeded in converting into a vessel. The stalk served as a rudder. 

What served as a sail? asks Dufresne.

Nothing, says Baudin. He was rather at the mercy of the tides.

How was business? asks Dufresne.

Sparse, says Baudin.

They stare at the water.

No kelp floats by.