Harbor by John Lindqvist (classic novels for teens txt) 📕

for, this is…and…it won’t do any good if we leave it, will it?’

His father turned to Anders once again, nodded slowly and said, ‘No, I don’t suppose it will. You’re probably right.’

He started hauling on the net again, the muscles in his jaw working as if he were chewing on something he was never going to be able to swallow. Anders didn’t know what had happened, what he’d said, but he was relieved it had worked. The catch would be brought in.

Apart from the problem that Anders didn’t understand, it was very difficult for his father to lift such an enormous catch. Anders moved the boat as helpfully as he could, but the net his father was hauling into the prow was not a net full of individual fish, but rather a thick cable of silver enclosed in mesh.

When the whole of the net was in the boat and the anchor had been raised, his father went over to the engine without a word and put his hands on the cylinder head gasket.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Anders. If his father’s behaviour during the later part of their trip had been strange, this was yet another new thing.

His father gave a wan smile. ‘Warming my hands.’

Anders nodded. Of course. That was understandable, at least. The water was cold—his hands had got cold. He left the helm and went to have a look at the catch. He was no expert, but surely this was a good bit more than fifty kilos? Seventy? Eighty? When he looked at the massive pile of fish ensnared in the net, he noticed something else unusual.

Herring did not have the endurance of perch or flounder, which could live for a long time after being pulled out of the sea, but they would normally move about and twitch in the net for a good while after the boat had set off for home. But not this time.

The herring were lying completely motionless, with not a twitch to be seen. Anders crouched down and felt at a fish that had fallen out of the net. The little body was stiff, almost frozen, and the eyes were milky white. He held it out to his father, who was still standing with his hands resting on the engine. ‘Why are they like this?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘But…I mean…what’s happened?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘But how can the herring just—’

‘I don’t know, I said!’

It was very rare for his father to raise his voice. As he did so now a hot stabbing sensation went through Anders, making his cheeks flush bright red, and he closed his mouth on any further questions. He didn’t know what he’d said that was so wrong, but it was something, and he was upset. Because he had destroyed the great atmosphere between them without knowing how.

The herring had softened in the warmth of his hand. He dropped it on the deck and crept into the prow, squinting into the sun with a heavy feeling in his stomach. The big catch was no fun any more. As far as he was concerned, they could chuck the whole bloody lot back in the sea.

He rested his cheek against the wood and lay still. Strange…

He lay still for a while, listening. Then he raised his head and gazed out across the bay.

Why hadn’t he noticed until now? There wasn’t a single gull in sight. Normally they would have been screaming and fighting over the fish that had fallen out of the net as it was being hauled up, flapping wings or white, dipping bodies waiting for Anders to throw them scraps or herring that were too small to sell.

But now: Not a sound. Not one bird.

Anders was still considering this when he felt his father’s hand on his foot.

‘Listen, I’m sorry I…shouted like that. I didn’t mean it.’

‘OK.’

Anders stayed where he was, lying on his stomach, and waited for more. When nothing was forthcoming, he said, ‘Dad?’

‘Yes?’

‘Why aren’t there any gulls?’

A brief pause, then his father sighed and said without anger, ‘Don’t start again, Anders.’

‘OK. But it’s odd, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

His father patted Anders on the calf, then went to start the engine. After a few minutes Anders sat up and gazed out over the sea. Not one gull anywhere in sight. And no other birds either. The sea was deserted. The only movement was the bow wave around the boat, the only sound the even chugging of the engine.

During the trip home, Anders fantasised that he and his father were the only survivors of a disaster that had wiped out all life on earth. What would their lives be like from now on?

Other creatures had evidently survived the disaster, since Simon’s cat Dante was waiting for them on the jetty. Anders grabbed the stern rope and jumped up by the outermost capstan. As the cat wound around his legs, he carefully tied the half hitch he had learned the previous summer.

When the boat was safely moored he stroked Dante’s head, climbed down into the prow and threw a couple of herring on tothe jetty. He was curious to see how the cat would react. At first everything seemed just the same as usual. Perhaps because his pride demanded it, Dante always pretended that he had caught the prey himself. He crouched down, crept towards the lifeless fish as if the utmost vigilance was essential to ensure that his food would not escape.

Then he leapt forward and sank both paws into one of the herring, holding it firmly with his claws extended. When he was absolutely certain the fish was not going to get away, he would sink his teeth into it. What happened next looked so funny that Anders laughed out loud.

Dante stopped with his teeth on the way to the herring, then raised his head and sneezed twice. He looked at Anders as if to ask: Is this some kind of joke?, and poked at the herring with his paw, rolling it around the jetty a couple of times.

His father was sitting