Since we planned on going to the farthest island on the main reef Samson had made an arrangement with some wantoks to tow us most of the way, for they were going out to fish in an even more distant part of the reef system and had an outboard motor.

That suited me, for I was still feeling a little seedy after the previous night's function, and I still smarted from the angry confrontations with Marjorie. The boys could do no wrong in their mother's eyes, and when we had a function in her honour things got a little out of hand. For one reason or another my devious past had caught up with me and I found myself singing and playing in the band, roped in by old Fred who was the only one on Bougainville who knew about my secret life in Brisbane. He had found me singing in a club when I was supposedly tucked in bed at the boarding school I attended...

The boys were impressed with my new talents, so much so that they joined forces against their mother who was determined to blame me for their own antics, and for their consumption of rum and cokes. Father had warned me that she would blame me for the condition of the two boys. Although she admitted they weren't angels she really believed anything they told her, and Michael in particular usually manufactured all sorts of excuses, mostly based on my obviously devious and carefree nature.

This time Terry stoutly admitted that he was to blame, but once Marjorie was rolling, nothing as straightforward as common sense could stop her. There were many tart exchanges before I barged out and went down to the waters edge to cool off, feeling so blue that I didn't immediately recognise Terry's approach.

He'd explained that he and Michael were afraid that I would leave, and they didn't want that. Even Michael, who normally lost no opportunity to make problems, was of a similar opinion.

All because they had found I could sing and play instruments.

And call dolphins...

I guess that was part of it, too. Terry was fascinated by Dot and Dash, my two porpoise friends, and was ecstatic when I called them and we were pulled along in the warm water.

Even when he admitted interest in my body, I wasn't offended. I told him right there and then that he'd better get used to seeing me like that, bare topped, because I had no intention of changing my way of living just because of his juvenile expectations.

He hastily agreed, and asked me if I intended to go, to leave the island. I admitted I'd thought seriously about it when his mother had been so negative, but that my natural laziness would probably keep me here, at least for the moment. I'm my own person and won't have anyone trying to force me into their mould.

Then when Marjorie learned of the arrangements to go out in the canoe with Tanu and her brothers she wanted the boys to be able to go as well.

Terry had something to say about that.

"Awww Mum, they're nationals."

"Tanu's a national too. You don't seem to object to her."

"But she's different, she's real smart!"

"Marjorie, there's simply no room anyway, it's a canoe, with an outrigger."

She looked at me suspiciously.

"If you like I'11 arrange another trip and we can borrow the canoe for the purpose. With Tanu, me and the boys it'll be full again."

"Hey, yeah, that would be great!" Somehow I think it was the prospect of being with Tanu that interested Terry more than the canoe trip itself. I smiled to myself.

I was still remembering the scene when a voice returned me to the present.

"Ready, Kelly?" Tanu called from her seat in the bow where she had just fastened the rope linking us with the fibreglass towboat.

"OK, ready to roll!" I called and gave a final shove with my foot before seating myself in the high, dry stern. Moses paddled to hold us steady while the men in the other boat struggled to pull-start their outboard, then with a clatter and a dark puff of smoke it burst into life.

Soon we were sliding through a magical world of silver and black, for as we drew out of the little bay into the open lagoon the full moon freed itself of the dark tangle of jungle slopes behind us and painted everything with a soft metallic sheen. From where I sat it seemed the two craft were frozen in a vast lake of mercury with the bow waves appearing fixed and unchanging, an etching on a frigid surface.

Only sometimes did a ripple or the sudden flash of flying-fish mar the illusion to remind me that this was indeed water and that we were really making swift passage from one place to another.

In the distance the islets grew, black blots on the salver of the world. We were to visit the fourth and most distant island, still many kilometers away, and try to catch turtles.

In front of me the two men sat, impassive. Moses chewed steadily on buai, the orange-red kernel of the betel nut that's also a mild narcotic, while Samson simply sat, immobile, an ebony statue.

It was an unusually clear night for Bougainville. Usually clouds form on the ranges during the day and whatever is left over after the daily downpour settles into a flat disk that reaches out to cover the outer edges of the island.

Tonight there was none of that and it was very beautiful. As I looked out over the shimmering sea I thought of all those people huddled around television sets or cracking their next beer at the Club who were oblivious to all this. I was selfishly glad, I didn't want to share it with anyone else!

It took over an hour to reach our destination, and we were still hundreds of meters from the dark shape of the atoll when at a sign from Moses the tow craft slackened pace and threw the rope back to us. With a casual wave they opened up again and were soon a mere flyspeck on the vast mirror of the sea.

Moses and Samson took the paddles and turned us shoreward, keeping the canoe moving very slowly with barely a ripple. Stealth was now important for we hoped to catch the turtles that come up on the beach at night to lay their eggs. It was a bit late in the year for this, really, but we were doing it for fun as much as for food. Nevertheless we would be very popular even if we merely brought eggs home rather than the animals themselves.

We were much too early, of course. The best time for catching turtles actually on the beach is in the early hours of the morning, about two or three o'clock, but Moses was only going in for a quick check now before paddling on to a fishing spot a little further up the reef.

As we approached the beach the men turned the canoe parallel to the shore, keeping very quiet as they scanned the sand in the moonlight. Underneath us the water was a dazzling display of lights from the reef only a few meters below us.

I suppose most people think that at night the dark waters are full of horrible creatures prowling with the sole intention of swallowing foolish swimmers or anything else that moves, but in fact that's much more true of the daytime, especially if you're talking about sharks, as most people are.

Sometimes the reef at night is a fairyland of lights. The fish are no longer visible in their normal form and are instead transformed into glowing or flashing identities that float effortlessly against a velvet backdrop. If you get lucky and are quick enough with your torch you might just manage to glimpse the drab individuals who are the source of these glorious displays. From some hidden crevice you'll recognise the pale ghost of earlier splendour and only when you switch your own alien light off will the magicians return to the stage.

It's not always like that. Most nights the water is merely ocean and wet, but this wasn't one of them and I hung over the side of the canoe, enthralled.

We paddled completely around the atoll but saw no turtles or their tracks, so Moses and Samson pointed the prow of the canoe out towards the main reef and Tanu began to prepare fishing lines.

Here the water was deep in places and the great channels carved out of the living barrier reef let the swells roll in from the open sea. As we crossed these we found ourselves climbing sudden smooth humps of water then abruptly dipping into the following troughs.

Finally Moses pulled us into the steeply shelving coral on the edge of one of these channels and secured us by throwing a stone anchor over onto the partially exposed reef. Over the stern of the little craft I could look down into inky depths that now and then rippled with mysterious lights.

Soon the men had their lines over the side and were pulling in occasional reef fish. Neither Tanu or I were allowed to do the same, for there are very definite rules for fishing and they don't include women.

We had accepted this rule many trips ago because we knew that we simply wouldn't be taken along otherwise. Of course abstinence from fishing didn't mean being excused from cleaning the catch afterwards...

Even talk was discouraged during fishing, and we girls were left with our own thoughts as we nibbled on boiled kau-kau that Tanu produced from her bag.

As the moon climbed slowly up the sky a great peace settled on me and the earlier headache faded away. All the problems with my family seemed insignificant when viewed against a scene like the one around me and even the memory of the party no longer made me wince.

I was nearly asleep when Moses finally pulled in his line.

"I t'ink we try for turtle now," he said, looking up to judge the passage of hours by the moon.

Without comment Samson pulled in his line while Moses climbed out to retrieve the anchor and push us off again. This time Tanu and I took the paddles, spinning the little craft around and thrusting hard and deep to start us moving back towards the island.

Soon we were ghosting silently past the beach again with the men standing to scan the shoreline, motioning with their hands to guide us in or to avoid lumps of coral ahead.

Suddenly Samson pointed and dropped to his normal seat.

"Lik-lik more then go long beach," he directed.

We turned inwards and carefully picked our way between the big coral boulders until the canoe grounded nearly a boat length from the sand, then got out and pulled the heavy craft further in. Directly ahead of us the smoothness of the white sand was marred by rows of regular gouges each side of a deep groove, looking for all the world like deep heelmarks from somebody struggling to drag something up on the beach.

This was what we'd come for. These were turtle tracks made as the female turtle dragged herself up and away from the water towards the high tide mark.

We followed the trail towards the trees and very soon found her still industriously digging into the meagre sand cover with her flippers, right at the very edge of the jungle. All around the sand was disturbed from her earlier efforts and it was clear she hadn't yet completed her mission.

Carefully we stepped past her into the darker shadow of the palms and squatted to watch. Laying turtles are not usually killed for food in this area, but their eggs are taken by the bucketful. It's the males that stay in the water just off shore that would be our target afterwards.

As we watched the turtle finally settled on what she considered a suitable spot, although we mere humans could see no difference to any other place, then she began to excavate in earnest, scraping great quantities of sand under and behind her until she had a large hole bigger than herself. Then she dug even further and made yet another hole within the main one.

At last she was satisfied and ambled forward to position herself and began to lay. This last process was hidden from us by her body, but we knew what was happening from previous occasions. When she is in the laying phase almost nothing will disturb her, but if you interfere while she is preparing the site she may abandon the exercise and return to the water with a burst of speed that is surprising in an animal whose shell is over a meter wide.

Tanu and I silently rose and retraced our steps to the canoe where we collected a plastic bucket and a bag and since it would be some time yet before they were needed we sat on the rough wooden hull and had another kau-kau.

"How are you feeling now?" Tanu asked with her mouth full.

"I'm OK now, the headache's gone and I'm much more relaxed. And you?"

She groaned in mock agony.

"Just keep me away from that stuff! I think we must have been a little bit tight last night..."

"A little! How did you feel this morning?"

"I was totalled. Tione's kids came in and bounced on my bed and I thought my head would fall off. And you?" She smiled a little grimly at the memory.

"The same, only worse. The only consolation was that Terry and Michael were even more haggard. Marjorie was quite grim with me when I finally staggered down about lunchtime. She thinks I led them on. Me! She was short with me all afternoon and when I reminded her that I was coming with you on this trip she really had a piece of me."

We were silent again, each reviewing the details of the previous night and feeling uncomfortable. We sat in companionable silence until Moses arrived to find what was keeping us, then returned up the moonlit beach and were soon silently grouped around the busy turtle as she laboriously filled in her earlier excavation.

As she lumbered off towards the sea again Samson set about scraping the sand away to reveal the cache of small leathery eggs, each a little smaller than a table-tennis ball but butter-coloured.

There seemed hundreds of the little spheres. We scooped them out with our hands and loaded the bag and bucket until all the effort of the female turtle was completely wasted. Fortunately there are millions of turtles and only a few nest-robbers like us, but even so it caused me a pang of remorse.

No such delicate feelings affected Moses or Samson, and as we carried our booty back to the canoe they sucked on handfuls of the eggs. I quite like them too but by now I was full with kau-kau.

We pushed the canoe off again and Tanu and I resumed our paddling duties.

"We go long backside now, look for man-turtle," announced Moses, gesturing towards the end of the island.