The Glass-Bottom Boat – Part 1: Through the Glass

"That is Gordo," said Diego. "He is a very fat parrotfish."

"I'm going to need the Latin name."

"Gordo's is Scarus guacamaia. But I prefer Gordo."

Bianca laughed, knelt on the deck and peered through the thick pane in the floor. Below the boat the reef unrolled in a blaze of colour: purple sea fans, brain coral, a cloud of small blue fish that parted and flowed like silk. Shafts of sunlight angled down through the clear water. Gordo, a huge turquoise parrotfish, chewed solemnly on a rock.

Bianca, thirty-two, a marine biologist from Mexico City, had come to survey the coral for a year-long study. Diego, thirty-five, the captain, was tall and sun-browned with a broad grin, a faded cap and a pair of cracked sunglasses on a string. He had run the little boat for ten years and knew the reef like a living room.

"Every fish has a name," he said. "The reef is my neighbours. I know who moved house and who got fat."

"You don't have a study."

"I have an eye."

Bianca spent three weeks on the water. She counted coral, photographed polyps and logged bleaching. Diego steered, translated, brought tortas and cold lime soda in a cooler. He learned the difference between healthy and stressed coral from her patient explanations. She learned the quiet, intimate rhythm of a working boat.

On the last Friday they drifted over a garden of staghorn coral that had come back from the dead, bright with new growth. Bianca sat on the gunwale, tears in her eyes.

"It's recovering," she whispered.

"You did that," said Diego.

"We did."

He killed the engine. The little boat rocked gently on the glittering water, and the island shimmered in the heat.

"Bianca," said Diego, quietly. "May I ask you something that is not about fish?"

"Yes."

"Would you have dinner with me? On the beach. Tonight."

Continue the story: Part 2 – Sunset Tide.

Continue the story: Part 2 – Sunset Tide.