‘Gosh, it’s just so hard to believe that you’re single,’ I replied, my hair floating about my face like red seaweed. I took in his broken mast. The waterlogged sail blew in and out faintly, like cheeks half-heartedly puffed with air. ‘Not a natural windsurfer, I take it? A case of “persistence beyond the call of talent”, perhaps?’ I touchéd. ‘How did you snap the mast, for god’s sake?’

‘I’m not too sure. I just leapt on, the wind went whoosh and next thing I know, I’m headed for Tahiti. I tried to turn the bloody thing around, but I had no idea how and must have yanked too hard because, well . . .’ He gestured to the broken pole.

‘You had no idea how? Wait, do you mean you went windsurfing with no instruction?’

‘I only popped ashore to buy some indigenous nose flutes, or whatever it is you clichéd tourists do, then, on the spur of the moment, I decided to try windsurfing – a decision possibly influenced by the three daiquiris I downed in quick succession at the beach bar. You see, when I’m not on duty, my philosophy is to get as plastered as possible so that there’s absolutely no chance of my having to save anyone from anything on my day off.’

‘And it didn’t cross your mind that, without being able to turn around, you might end up marooned on some volcanic island in the vicinity of Hawaii?’

‘I just hope it’s extinct, because you would no doubt take a volcanic eruption as a breach of copyright,’ he retorted.

‘Seriously, didn’t you think it might be wise to, I dunno, maybe have a few lessons before you took off into the open ocean?’ I quizzed. ‘You’re always saying the “cubs” on board are so stupid, but clearly you’re the one who should join Densa.’ Oh, I was enjoying this. ‘And while we’re talking about stupidity, why is it that all Aussie blokes are so keen to risk blood loss, broken limbs or waterlogged lungs in your leisure moments?’

‘Well, I wasn’t anxious about blood loss until now. As I’m drifting further out to sea, I am kinda getting a bit worried about the big fish with fangs below, because my legs are just, you know, dangling here in the water like shark biscuits. I’m a farm boy, don’t forget. Lend me your goggles so I can see what’s down there,’ the doctor demanded.

I declined his invitation. ‘If you see a shark in the water, you don’t have to worry, mate, because it saw you a long time before you saw it. If it wanted to eat you, you’d be dead already.’

‘Oh, that’s so comforting.’