This week's Cursed Coast – Western Australia, where else? – involves two shipwrecks and the strange things three men did to survive.

Bungaree

The Bungaree (also called the Bungara) was an 89 ton schooner carrying supplies of sugar, coconuts and tea south from Batavia (modern day Jakarta) to Fremantle. Captain Cornford made an unusually fast voyage from Batavia – only 23 days – ably assisted by a winter storm blowing in from the northwest. He estimated that he was a little north of Rottnest – a safe distance from the coast, by all accounts. Between the heavy rain and strong winds, he hadn't seen land or the sun in four days by the 13^th June 1876.

Unlucky thirteenth for him – at four thirty am, the Bungaree struck heavily on a reef.

In the darkness, the boat began to fill with water, but it was too dark to see land and no one knew where they were. Their safest option was to stay with the ship – even if she was slowly sinking.

Day broke and their luck lifted just a little. Land was in sight – and just over a mile away. The ship had struck Sisters Reef – 20 miles south of Rottnest and much closer to the coast than Cornford thought. The mistake may have saved their lives – if they could reach shore in the heavy seas.

At 9am, they tried to launch the boat – but it was quickly swamped in the waves. Hauling it back, they tried again…and again. Three times it was swamped before the crew managed to climb aboard. A well-placed wave washed the life boat over the reef and into slightly calmer waters. Bailing constantly, all eight men managed to make it safely to shore. Cornford headed to Fremantle to break the news to the owners of the boat – the Batemans. They sent a boat back to Rockingham to see what could be salvaged, as the Bungaree wasn't insured, but she'd completely broken up and there were bits of her and her cargo strewed along the beach.

Cargo ripe for salvage and several boats were sent to do so.

Pitts, Pomelos, Dunn and the Dinghy

On the 21^st June, a vessel so small it didn't even have a name, crewed by three men – including Mr R Pitts and Edward Dunn, left Fremantle to assist with the salvage of cargo from the Bungaree, that had washed ashore at Becher Point in Rockingham. They loaded their boat with salvaged coconuts and pomelos, before leaving Becher Point on 23^rd June 1876.

More bad weather set in – it was the time of winter storms – so they decided to anchor on the leeward side of Penguin Island. Their boat dragged its anchor and was stove in during the night, marooning them on the island 2km offshore from the mainland. The three men had no food, so they ate penguins, hoping the weather would clear up and another boat would come by to rescue them.

Saved by a Zebra

On Sunday the 25^th June, the crew of the Zebra was hard at work, salvaging the Bungaree debris from the shore. On their way home to Fremantle, they noticed two men making distress signals on the shore of Penguin Island. Instead of picking the men up, they waited until they returned to Fremantle and reported the men to the Water Police.

Superintendant Stone sent a boat straight away to rescue the three men, which brought them safely back to port on the evening of the 26^th.

How did three men survive comfortably on Penguin Island for three days – and why didn't they attempt to walk the sandbar back to land, waiting for rescue instead?

Penguin Island

Ah, now that's where I should explain a little more about Penguin Island. At the southern end of the moving patch of shoals called Shoalwater in Rockingham, it's the only island there with a potable water supply – if you can call a brackish, discoloured well potable.

It's a limestone island, riddles with caves that slowly fill up with sand unless they're excavated regularly. One self-appointed island manager did just that – a man named Seaforth MacKenzie. Taking up permanent residence in one of the largest, he made the caves as habitable as possible for people to stay in on holidays. They were also used as residences for people during the Depression in the 1930s.

Now, the caves have slowly filled with sand again or caved in, with little warning, so visitors are warned not to venture inside. Of course, the warnings only work on those who can read the signs – but I'd say a 150kg male Australian sea lion is enough warning for anyone, even if he paid no attention to the danger.

Some say that, like Mermaid Reef far to the north, Penguin Island was named after a survey vessel, but the survey vessel Penguin wasn't even in West Australian waters in 1876. This island was definitely named for the birds.

The Smallest Penguins in the World

Penguins don't just live in Antarctica – some of the smallest penguins in the world – called alternately little, fairy or blue-backed penguins and Eudyptula minor in Latin – live on the coastal islands of southern Australia.

Their backs are deep blue, like the colour of deep water. They spend all day at sea fishing, coming ashore in the evenings to their sand dune burrows, except in the hottest part of summer, when they moult all their feathers at once. They're not waterproof then, so they can't fish or swim because they'll sink. Between June and their December moult, though, they're nesting – laying and incubating their pair of eggs or taking care of the fluffy little hatchlings.

The island is now a nature reserve, home to a small penguin sanctuary where injured penguins are rehabilitated and returned to the wild, where possible. Where it isn't…they become part of the Discovery Centre display, so that tourists can see the penguins during the day.

The sandbar is above the water at particularly low tides, but the rest of the time, there are gaps with very strong currents running through them, as the remaining sandbar channels all the tidal flow through those narrow gaps. That makes them very dangerous for anyone to cross who isn't prepared to be swept off the sandbar and into deeper water – perhaps to their deaths. And yes, people have died attempting to walk the sandbar, with hundreds rescued by Surf Lifesaving volunteers every year.

That's it for this week's Cursed Coast. Next episode…will be a mystery.

This week's Cursed Coast – Western Australia, where else? – involves two shipwrecks, in a tale of tragedy and heroism…with a mystery we may never know the answers to.

Carlisle Castle and the City of York

On 11^th July, 1899, a winter storm swept across the Indian Ocean into Fremantle. Six vessels were driven ashore, but the damage was minimal. Looking at the reports the next day, Chief Harbourmaster Captain Russell considered the port had been very lucky to get off so lightly.

To the west and south of Fremantle, there is a long chain of rocks, reefs and islands, starting from Rottnest Island on the edge of the continental shelf and stretching south through Shoalwater to Coventry Reef. This shipping hazard is one of the reasons Dutch explorers rejected the site for settlement back in 1658 and why the English hesitated so long before creating a colony in Western Australia. And the storm wasn't over yet.

By the evening of the 12^th, there were reports of debris washing ashore at Penguin Island to the south and flares were sighted off Rottnest to the west. Dreading that their luck was too good to last, Russell sent a tug boat down to Shoalwater to investigate.

The tug boat crew found lifebelts, buoys and two broken boats, all bearing the name of the Carlisle Castle, washed up on shore. The Carlisle Castle was due in from Glasgow and Liverpool, carrying some of the last equipment to finish the Eastern Goldfields water pipeline. Fearing the worst, they reported back to the Harbourmaster on their return in the morning.

Captain Russell prepared to take the government steamer, aptly named the Penguin, down to Shoalwater to search for the Carlisle Castle, when more news came in. The flares they'd seen to the west didn't belong to the Carlisle Castle at all – there was another ship on the rocks, only a couple hundred metres offshore from Rottnest Island.

Torn between the possible distress of the Carlisle Castle and the definite danger to this second ship, Captain Russell made his decision – and set out for Rottnest Island, 20km off the coast.

Douglas and the Dunskey

Captain William Douglas on the steam tug Dunskey spotted the Penguin preparing to head out. He'd heard about the wreck off Rottnest and he followed the Penguin, hoping to help.

On the way over to Rottnest, Douglas spotted clothes and oars floating on the waves, but he didn't stop to collect the flotsam. It was only further evidence that there was a ship in trouble and the Penguin was well ahead of him.

When he figured he was getting close, the Penguin came into sight – going in the opposite direction. Captain Russell hailed him, telling him to try to get close enough to the wreck to tell those aboard that Russell had only gone to get the pilot's whaleboat, which could navigate in the surf on the reefs and get close enough to help them.

Douglas agreed and continued on to the wreck. He anchored as close as he could – about 400m windward of her, in 11 fathoms of water. Not close enough to convey Russell's message. Safely anchored, he decided to work out how to get closer. From watching the waves, he worked out where the reefs were – and the path he could take in a dinghy to reach the stranded City of York.

He called his crew together, which included his son, Clem, and gave them orders to follow in case he didn't return. Alone in a dinghy, he ordered it to be lowered into the surf. He struggled against the waves until he managed to pull the dinghy into the lee of the wreck. He got three survivors aboard, trying to keep between the breakers as they rowed back to his tug. By some miracle, he managed to get back to the Dunskey and unload his passengers…before heading back for more.

He got another three men to the Dunskey, before returning for the last two. In the end, Douglas single-handedly rescued all eight of the men remaining on the City of York wreck. Once they were all aboard the Dunskey, they told their tale – how a crew of twenty six men had been reduced to eight on the reefs of Rottnest Island.

The City of York

The City of York was known for its speed – it had once raced the Cutty Sark, though I don't know who won. Loaded up with 743,444 feet of Oregon timber and 3638 doors, the City of York left San Francisco on the 13 April, 1899. Like the Titanic, she made the voyage in record time – until she met with a problem. Ninety days later, she ran into stormy weather just off Rottnest, the island to the west of her destination of Fremantle.

Even through the blinding rain and heavy seas, the beam from the lighthouse was clearly visible on the deck of the City of York. They spotted a flare-up, the standard signal of a pilot boat. The City of York's crew flashed the responding signal – a blue light, stating that they wanted a pilot to guide them into port. A second flare-up appeared, which, under the international code of the time, signalled that it was safe to approach the pilot boat.

With the responding blue light flash again, to indicate that they'd seen the pilot boat's signal, the City of York turned and proceeded directly toward where they'd last seen the flare-up. Sailing in unfamiliar waters, they took continuous soundings. First it was deeper than 55m – plenty of space. Suddenly, the depth shallowed to 29m. Worried, Jones sent down the lead again…and now it was 9m. Much too shallow to be safe waters. He gave orders to turn the ship around, but it was too late. Both the wind and the waves drove her right onto the reef, turning her so she stuck fast with the waves breaking all down her side and over her deck. That was when they realised there was no pilot boat and the light they'd seen was at the base of the lighthouse – and it was close. If they could make the land, they'd live.

With the mast looking ready to fall at any moment, Captain Jones called for them all to abandon ship – into the lifeboats. Six men managed to get into one, leaving the remaining twenty men to board the other, but then they had to contend with the breakers. The waves quickly filled both boats with water and the twenty men soon found their boat sinking fast. They lost sight of the other boat in the swell and presumed it was lost, too. Captain Jones ordered them to return to the ship – if they could. Alec Burke, the cook, managed to catch hold of a chain but the boat capsized in the waves beneath them. Two men managed to scramble on top of the overturned boat, while Burke climbed the chain to the ship's deck. He was followed by William Lee, one of the men still in the water. Between them, they managed to help some more aboard the wreck. With the galley fire still lit and no foreseeable way to shore with the two lifeboats gone, they proceeded to spend the night as comfortably as possible – kept company by the contents of the Captain's personal wine store.

When the sun rose on the following day, they were happy to see there were people on the shore at Rottnest, but there was no way for the watchers to help until the Penguin or the Dunskey arrived, at 10.30 that morning.

Eight men had made it aboard the stranded City of York – the eight who were saved by Douglas and his dinghy from the Dunskey – but the rest were presumed drowned, including Captain Jones.

The Dunskey headed back to Fremantle to tell the sad news.

The Second Lifeboat

Meanwhile…hidden by the breakers, the six men in the other boat managed to rescue one of their capsized comrades – but only one. They didn't have an easy time of it, either – the waves swamped their boat and carried away their oars, but they were determined to survive and ripped planks from the boat to use as paddles, making for a calm patch of water and a beach, where they dragged the boat ashore. Cold, soaked and tired, they scrambled through the bush, headed for the lighthouse as the only sign of civilisation they could see.

Once they'd had some rest, brandy and a bit of medical assistance, they were sent back to Fremantle in the Waratah.

The Carlisle Castle

Having done all he could for the City of York, Harbourmaster Russell steamed south in the Penguin – this time, in search of the Carlisle Castle. Reaching Coventry Reef, he noticed spars and rigging floating in the foam. There was no name on them, but he knew he was close.

West of the reef, he spotted a mast sticking out of the water. He ordered the Penguin to steam closer. The other masts and sails became visible – he'd found the Carlisle Castle, but she'd sunk for sure in 20 metres of water – with only the tips of her masts and rigging on the surface.

Russell thought that the ship might have sunk so fast in the storm that none of the crew had even the time to grab a lifebelt or a buoy to save them from drowning. And drown they did – Captain Lindsay and his entire crew went down with their ship. So we'll never know the story of how the Carlisle Castle came to grief, or even when – for by the time help arrived, there was no one left to save.

The Aftermath

It wasn't until several days after the storm that bodies from the City of York and the Carlisle Castle started to wash up at Rottnest and Rockingham, respectively – and not all of them, either. Only seven of the bodies from Carlisle Castle were ever found – but the vessel was lost in waters that are well known for great white sharks.

Most of the cargo from the Carlisle Castle was salvaged, but the boat itself and remaining cargo remain to this day as a spectacular dive wreck off Coventry Reef.

The City of York broke into three pieces, strewing 180,000 feet of timber on nearby Ricey Beach – a combination of the ship's cargo and her skeleton. Some of the wreck still remains in what is now called City of York Bay.

Afterwards, there was an inquiry into the loss of the City of York, and at first, the findings were to blame dead Captain Jones or the pilot for not reaching the ship in time to save it. The company that owned the City of York wasn't too happy with that finding and took matters further – suing the West Australian government for the loss of its ship because of poor signalling. They won, too.

It turned out that the flare-up signals seen by the City of York were lit by the assistant lighthouse keeper, at the base of the lighthouse, who had seen the ship waiting offshore and wanted to know if they needed a pilot. With only one flare – a kerosene-soaked torch on a pole – he could only respond to their request for a pilot in the same way, despite wanting to tell them that should wait where they were and a pilot would be available soon. He didn’t have a copy of the latest set of international shipping signals and he had no idea that his light flashes meant something entirely different to the ship who saw them. A tragedy of miscommunication whose monument still stands in Fremantle Cemetery.

Two, more practical monuments were built to the City of York wreck, too – a telephone cable between Rottnest Island and the mainland…and a new lighthouse at Bathurst Point. This new lighthouse truly was a life saver – but that's another story, for my next episode, as that's it for this week's Cursed Coast!

I couldn't write stranger fiction if I tried. The sad part is that it isn't fiction at all – it's the very true and tragic story of Mr William Shenton.

Some men are simply cursed – or maybe it's the site they settled at.

The Sad (True) Story of Shenton and the Devonshire

William Kernot Shenton was born in the parish of St Thomas, Winchester in Hampshire, England in 1801.

At the age of 28, he decided to sign on to a group settlement scheme, under Colonel Peter Latour. There were a fair few of these arranged by wealthy English investors, who paid to bring people from England to settle Western Australia. Latour was promised a large grant of land for himself in Leschenault, Western Australia, while all his colonists were given smaller grants of land nearby. The total land area for him and his colonists was 100,000 acres – to be shared between less than sixty people. They were indentured colonists – indebted to Latour for their transport costs to get them to Australia. The usual arrangement for this was for the settlers to work off this debt through free or low-cost labour to Latour for a few years. After that, they were free landowners, with their own land and the knowledge of how to productively farm it.

Of course, none of them knew Western Australia very well – most had never seen the place. With completely different seasons, soils and far less rainfall, it's no surprise many of these settlement schemes failed. Latour's Leschenault colonists worked for him for less than a year before they were freed of their indentures, most likely because they'd been granted unproductive land – or at least, land that wasn't as productive as it would be back in England.

Shenton signed on as an agriculturalist. He boarded the Lotus in Portsmouth, England in May 1829. Her hold contained everything he thought he'd need. When he arrived in Fremantle in October 1829, he signed a list of all the things he'd brought with him. A complete saw mill, iron work, wheels and vices, carpenter tools, a turning lathe, a boring machine, nails, screws, ironmongery, scales, mathematical drawing instruments, medicines, seeds, furniture, apparel, books, linen, guns, pistols, powder, shot and balls. He was a well-equipped man, Mr William Shenton.

After he was released from his indenture in 1830, he was granted a hundred acres of better land on the Helena River, near Guildford. Bored with the life of an agriculturalist, he started one of Western Australia's first newspapers – the Western Australian Chronicle and Perth Gazette. He wrote the first nine issues in long hand, from 19 February 1831 to 19 April 1831, before he partnered with another colonist, Charles Macfaull, who had a hand-printing press. Together, they published The Fremantle Observer, Perth Gazette and Western Australian Journal – the first newspaper both printed and published in Western Australia.

It wasn't long before Shenton was restless again. After only three issues, he left the paper in Macfaull's capable hands and headed south to his land in Leschenault, to explore the Collie River.

When he returned to Perth, he was granted a lease of land at Point Belches – now known as Mill Point – to establish a flour mill in 1833.

Now, all this land was a government grant – but all of it had traditional owners who'd claimed it long before white settlers arrived. I'm referring to the local Aboriginal people. It was inevitable that there'd be conflict when both groups claimed ownership of the land – and they had different legal and justice systems, too.

As a result of conflict between the two groups, the original mill was burned to the ground in 1834. Between a failed settlement scheme, a Guildford land grant, a handwritten newspaper and now a burned down mill, Shenton had probably already decided Australia wasn't the lucky country.

He rebuilt the windmill with the help of Paul and James Lockyer in 1835. With peak wind speeds, it could mill 680kg of flour in a day.

On the 24 November, 1841, he married Jessica Cameron. She was 28 – the same age he'd been when he arrived in Western Australia. Maybe his luck was starting to change.

On 1 June 1842 – exactly thirteen years after the day the Parmelia, the first immigration ship, arrived in Fremantle from England – Shenton climbed aboard the little schooner Devonshire in Fremantle, headed for his land in Leschenault. He was a passenger, not crew, but neither the ship, the storm nor the sea saw any difference.

The storm hit with gale force winds and a heavy swell, as the Devonshire sailed down the west side of Garden Island. Knowing what had happened to several other vessels on this stretch of water, the captain sought safety in the South Passage, between Garden Island and Cape Peron.

There was no sanctuary to be had for the Devonshire – at least, not on the surface. In the storm and the heavy seas, she sank – never to be seen again.

It was only eight years after the disappearance of the Cumberland in the very same waters and the newspapers hadn't forgotten. Items started to wash up on the beaches around Mangles Bay and Shoalwater, followed by the body of the first mate, John Miller, on the north end of Garden Island. His body was buried on the island, but the newspapers of Perth still held out hope that maybe only the mate had been washed overboard, while the Devonshire continued on to Leschenault and took shelter there.

Then the body of another crewman washed up in Mangles Bay – Charles Jackeway – and the mail came from Leschenault: the Devonshire had not arrived.

More items washed up on the beaches. An empty chest. The Captain's clothes chest. A dinghy, two paddles and a bucket. Four garden chairs, a sail and three water casks. Then, four months later, candles.

The ship's dog was found, wandering wild on Garden Island.

The dog was the only survivor of the Devonshire shipwreck – all six men aboard died, including William Shenton. He left Jessica a widow and she inherited the property known as Shenton's Mill.

The mill operated until 1859 – but its life wasn't over yet. Shenton's Mill was sold to Satan.

In 1879, an ex-convict who'd been transported for forgery, named Thomas Browne, otherwise known as Satan, investing all his money and borrowing a lot more to turn the mill and buildings into a hotel and dance hall. One of the first things he did was to take the blades off the windmill, but he also built a large veranda. He called the place “Alta Gardens” and the advertising described it as combining, “The attractions of rural pleasure and out-of-door amusements with hotel entertainment and home comforts.” People came, but not enough to cover his debts.

In 1881, deeply in debt and in prison waiting to be sentenced over some dodgy dealings to do with a land sale, he committed suicide – by taking strychnine. It took hours, his body going into fits and spasms, and was witnessed by a warder, a gaoler and the surgeon. What a horrible way to go.

After Satan failed to profit from his venture, the mill was used as a residence, wine saloon and poultry farm. I originally thought the birds were chickens, but photos of the site in 1900 show bigger, darker birds than chickens – large numbers of the native black swans. I don't know about you, but my experience of black swans as a kid have taught me that they have a lot in common with winged demons.

The mill was acquired by the West Australian government in 1929. The veranda was removed and the mill was restored to as close to its original condition as possible. It's a museum to early colonial life and is now owned by the City of South Perth – yes, Shenton's Mill still stands, though William Shenton died over 150 years ago.

The Devonshire – and William Shenton's body – have never been found.

Next week is the tale of a double tragedy – what do you do when there's a storm so bad there are two shipwrecks, but you can only rescue the crew of one ship? How do you choose?

Wrong, actually. The Royal Australian Navy's first battle at sea did involve the HMAS Sydney. She was built in 1913 and broken up in 1929 – now many of the bits are scattered around Sydney and Perth, as part of monuments. The HMAS Sydney II wasn't built until 1933. The only bit of the original Sydney that took part in the battle in 1941 was the ship's bell – passed from one Sydney to another. Sadly, the bell went down with the ship and all aboard her.

So which was the first battle? How did World War I spill into Australian territory? Who won? And at what cost?

Find out in this week's episode of Demelza Carlton's Cursed Coast:

I must apologise – my voice got a little teary at the end of this video. How could I not? It was war and victory came at the cost of men's lives.

Next post (tomorrow) will be a snippet of Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller – don't get into cars with strangers. You never know what they'll do…

Shipwrecks on the West Australian coast have been firing the imagination of writers since 1629, when the Batavia sank at the Houtman Abrolhos Islands. Those islands account for more than ninety known shipwrecks – and there's plenty more where those came from.

With my natural love for the ocean, I'm far from immune to the waves of inspiration emanating from my coast, so all of my stories are set in or near the water. From my paranormal romance series about mermaids – the Ocean's Gift series – to my thrillers in the Nightmares Trilogy, where the story starts with a girl's body found dumped on a beach after she's been held captive in a disused coastal defence bunker – the water spills over into them all.

Often, it's the allure of shipwrecks and the tragic history surrounding them. Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction, for there are mysteries that can never be solved. How did a man survive three weeks at sea, yet drown when he almost reached home? What happens to the ship's cat when her vessel sinks? And how can an entire ship disappear with the family silver?

While I write plenty of fiction, I've also chosen to release some of my extensive background research for the morbidly curious. I can't write fiction unless I know the setting intimately – not just the history and the geography, but the smell of the site and who lives there…as well as the nearest watering hole. And by watering hole, I mean both the water supply and the local pub.

In the case of shipwrecks, that means I've read the original news articles, diaries and ships' logs, plus visited the site where the ship went down to breathe the same air, stumble over the same ground and photograph everything else. That's left me uniquely placed to share some shipwreck videos, in my series on YouTube – Demelza Carlton's Cursed Coast. There is no fiction in these – the facts are curious enough.

The first two episodes – Columbia and Cumberland – tell of shipwrecks that play a part in my Ocean's Gift series. In fact, the mysterious tale of the Columbia is what inspired the Ocean's Gift series in the first place.

The third episode tells the little-known tale of a ship's cat on the Cambria.

This week's episode will go live tomorrow and it involves the tale of the Royal Australian Navy's first sea battle in the Indian Ocean in World War I. The second book in my Ocean's Gift series, Ocean's Infiltrator, opens with this battle, but the true story needs no fiction to make it remarkable.

Leave a comment on this post for your chance to win an ebook copy of Ocean's Gift – my paranormal romance about fishing, lobsters, beer and boobs at some cursed islands off the West Australian coast.

Thank you for visiting my website as part of the Coastal Romance Christmas Blog Hop – don't forget to enter the giveaway and check out some of the other fascinating posts!

Welcome to the Coastal Romance Christmas Blog Hop

• A prize on their blog
• A fabulous gift basket drawn on Christmas Eve… with a $100 Amazon Gift Card.  Each of the 26 contributing authors below will also be giving one of their books to the winner of the draw.

It's common knowledge that rats desert a sinking ship and so does any human on board who wants to live – I'd say it's simple common sense.

The tale of the Cambria is one of heroism, luck and one extremely fortunate feline.

Find out in this week's episode of Demelza Carlton's Cursed Coast:

So what did happen to the Cumberland? Did her crew really die of thirst on the open ocean? Or were they spared this slow, agonising death as their ship was smashed against a reef in the storm?

And why did a man have to build his own prison, a building still standing over 170 years later?

Find out in this week's episode of Demelza Carlton's Cursed Coast:

Other news this week includes a book sale – 19 bestsellers for only 99c – and your chance to win one of the first paperback copies of Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller just by liking my Facebook page and telling me what you think of Nathan Miller.

To celebrate a year since the release of my first novel, Ocean's Gift, I decided it was time I shared a little (okay, a lot) of the inspiration behind the story. Not the mermaids, but the coast full of reefs, wrecks and really quirky stories where I live. Demelza Carlton's Cursed Coast – Western Australia. Every week on Thursday, I'll be releasing an episode of Demelza Carlton's Cursed Coast, each detailing a disaster or death – or both, as is often the case with shipwrecks. These are not fiction – each episode tells a true story, carefully researched and often based on the newspaper articles and documents of the time. My research goes back to the early 1600s and I have copies of the ships' logs, plus pictures and photographs to illustrate each tale.

My first episode is on the Columbia and the mystery of the missing fisherman which first inspired my interest in mermaids. I hope you enjoy it.  

Ocean's Infiltrator is out in paperback today.

Could you kill the man you love to protect your people?
Capsize his boat. Lure him into the water. Summon sharks…
How long will Sirena let Joe live, now he knows her secret?
A story about seduction and sharks, parenthood and penguins, with plenty of beer and boobs to keep it interesting, at some coral islands off the coast of Western Australia, plus a few other places, too.
Sexy mermaids surface once more, to sing up chaos on ship and submarine, sea and shore.
Trouble, take two. This is Demelza's second contemporary fantasy book in the Ocean's Gift series, with more mermaids and mayhem than ever.
You'll never look at mermaids the same way again.

A tiny taste of what's in store:

For the first time, she looked nervous. “No human has ever seen me change before,” she admitted.
“It's the first time for me, too,” I replied hoarsely.
She touched her heels together and gave a flick with her feet. The movement rippled up her body, before she did it again. It looked like her skin was darkening, or was it just the waves washing over her? Another flick, her feet rising out of the water this time, and I saw the blue wasn't just the water. It was like the skin of her legs had grown together, extending over her feet into curved flukes, as blue as the water. It blended seamlessly up her body, though her torso remained pale.
She turned on her side, her eyes curious. In the skin along her ribs, I saw dark lines that looked like gills. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She'd never looked less human, but I'd never wanted to touch her more. My mouth hung open and I couldn't seem to close it.
“Are you coming in, or not?” She twisted, arched and dived down.
I plunged into the water after her.

The trailer for Ocean's Infiltrator is up, too – complete with penguins, for those who missed it:

…would you like one more excerpt, to wet your taste buds? Watch out – Sirena takes to the water again and we know Joe's planning on going fishing…

Chapter 4:

I dusted my hands off. I’d finished pushing all the furniture into place. I clicked a pen, writing a list of what I still needed to purchase and arrange for a life on land.

A new vehicle

Clothing and amusements for a child

A new computer

Waterproof camera

Alcohol

I looked down at my list and added another item:

Lightbulbs

Perishable food would wait until my return, for the journey to my home and then back to my land house was not a short one.

I dug out sufficient cash from storage and thought of taking Harley for one more ride before I slid beneath the sea surface in the dark of night.

The engine’s vibrations between my leather-clad thighs were irresistible. How can any man compare to the power of this? I thought as I roared to the car dealership to purchase something ladylike, shiny and blue.

When the day ended, my new little Mazda sat in the garage, her engine still warm. My sweet Harley was hidden behind the Holden, in the deep darkness at the top of the garage. I’d given him a little service before I’d covered him, lovingly cranking the spanner to make sure he was as tight as I wanted him to be. I felt a wrench that I could not ride him in my role as a responsible, human, suburban, single mother.

I’d already replaced the Edison light globe in the basement, watching it glow in satisfaction before I switched it off. I would call an electrician to add more lighting on my return.

All my new stainless steel appliances were packed into the cupboard beneath the silver hotplate, from the mixer to the pizza cooker. I even had a curved pizza knife tucked into the third drawer.

I sat in the kitchen and opened a chilled Stella. I raised it above my head. “In memory of death and duty,” I said quietly, sipping the beer with my eyes closed as my thoughts turned to more recent memories. Should I pick up my smartphone and call Skipper, to obtain the contact details of his sexy deckhand with the sweet arse? I shook my head with a smile. Not tonight. Perhaps one day…

I drained my drink and threw the empty into my new recycling bin. I looked out the window at the new playground and swing set, hoping they would meet with my youngest daughter’s approval when I brought her to land. We would have to drive by a playground full of human children so she would understand its use.

Marina… Just the thought of my youngest daughter had me yearning for home. I slipped out of my clothes, throwing them into the hamper beside the new washing machine. I padded across the dining room, snatching up the digital camera on my way to the folding doors that led outside. I closed and locked them behind me, hiding the key behind the mermaid tile on the wall.

I strode across the street and the park to the river in the darkness. I slipped over the side of the ferry terminal jetty and into the dark river water.

On my return, I will truly infiltrate the humans as never before, with my daughter by my side. May heaven help them, if I decide that I will not, I thought as I swam out to sea. Next landfall is at the Abrolhos, for a slight rest before I head home. If only it were the fishing season, when Skipper’s dreamy deckhand might appear on my decking again. Perhaps there is one man who can rival my Harley. I let my laughter bubble up to the surface as I swept through the water, increasing my speed.

Ocean's Infiltrator is now available in paperback from Amazon.

For those who don't remember him (how could you forget?), here's a character profile video I prepared earlier, which shows off his assets:

With only two days to go before Ocean's Infiltrator hits print, here's another taste – of the delectable Joe Fisher:

Chapter 3:

“Whoever wired up these places either had a death-wish or he was fucking high at the time,” I muttered as I found yet another nest of tangled wires under the tin roof. They’d pretty much corroded together. Any insulation on them had disintegrated about the time I was born, I decided. I ripped the mess out and dropped it on the concrete below.

No one in their right mind would have volunteered for this, but I figured I was probably a bit mad in my reasons for it, too.

Skipper and I had come to a business arrangement. We were going to be partners in a sort of holiday resort during the warmer months at the Abrolhos, to run in between fishing. He’d been sweet-talking all his fishing mates who didn’t fish any more to hand over their asbestos shacks to him, so they didn’t have to pay a shitload of money to pull them down. I’d been doing a bit of persuasion of my own – calling in every tradie I knew who’d do cash jobs and owed me a favour. When they hesitated, I promised I’d take them fishing when the job was done. Worked like a charm.

Somehow, we’d ended up with about a dozen falling-down fishing shacks on Rat Island and now I was holding up my end of the deal, arranging to get guys out to do the work on them, so the shitholes could become “deluxe holiday villas” or something like that. I didn’t know – Skipper’s daughter, the travel agent, was writing the press for it.

Now, if I could just get power restored to these stupid sheds we could get the asbestos guys in on their next week off to do some serious renovations. I had the replacement sheeting waiting in a sea container at the harbour, ready to winch aboard the Dolphin for the return trip after the first load of asbestos landed in Geraldton for safe disposal. The sooner the asbestos was gone, the better.

I yanked on another stubborn strand of wire and it came slithering across the roof, guarded by a huge spider. I thought the orb spiders were big the first year I was out here, but she was almost as big as my hand. I knew from experience that she wasn’t dangerous. I liked the way she and her mates kept the flies and mosquitoes down, so I brushed her off the corroded wiring and dropped it over the eaves.

I figured I’d get this place done before dark and then I’d be finished, a day earlier than expected. Maybe I could spend tomorrow fishing and take some nice fillets home with me. I knew the good fishing spots around Rat now, because I had to know where to take the guys on their fishing trips. I knew the spots that were pretty and not good for fishing, too, though, so we could keep the tourists occupied in trying. Couldn’t have them catching their bag limit too quickly – they’d get bored and complain.

I climbed down off the roof and hooked up the outdoor power point on the corner of the house, on one of the frame beams. I plugged in my light and switched the power point on. Brilliant, I thought as the globe gave a blinding flash of white before I turned it off again.

I packed everything back in my toolbag and started collecting up the mess of corroded wiring. I dropped the whole lot on my veranda and went into my shack for a beer, a bite to eat and some sleep. I’d need to be up early for the best fish.

If you can't wait another two days, don't worry – the ebook is already available for $2.99 this week from Amazon.