The Race to Kangaroo Cliff

by Alexander McCall Smith

  When Ben and Badger were on night watch, Ben would set his alarm for ten minutes before they were due to start their duties. Then, when the buzzer sounded and he had rolled himself out of his hammock, he would cross to Badger’s side of the cabin to wake his sleeping friend.

  Badger was a sound sleeper and was sometimes difficult to rouse. You cannot actually turn over in a hammock – or not very easily – but he would try to do that, just as you might turn over in a bed and bury your head under a pillow when somebody comes to wake you up.

  “Come on, Badge,” Ben would say. “Time to go on watch.”

  From within the twisted hammock there would come an indistinct murmur: “Still sleeping,” or “Not morning yet,” or something of that sort.

  To which Ben would reply, “Ten minutes to watch. Come on!”

  Reluctantly, Badger would open his eyes and unwind himself from the comfortable embrace of his hammock. And so the watch would begin, with a number of still half-asleep people silently going about their duties under a wide and empty sky. But as they woke up fully, they would all be caught up in the sheer wonder of what they were doing. There they were, sailing across a wide expanse of sea with only the wind and the waves to accompany them. There they were in the darkness, under the great velvet canopy of the night sky, with the stars glittering high above them, tiny specks of light that went on and on and on in uncountable numbers.

  Even during the day, when the sky was filled with light and the sun played on the waves, the sea was still a lonely place. Now and then they saw a ship in the distance, making its way to one of the ports further south. Occasionally they saw a lone yacht on the horizon, but for most of the time there was nothing but ocean in every direction. Of the other Tall Ships – their competitors in the race – there was no sign, although every so often somebody would imagine they could make out masts and sails in the far distance.

  “How do you think we’re doing?” Ben asked Mr Rigger a few days after the race had started. “Do you think we’re in the lead?”

  Mr Rigger smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea, Ben,” he replied. “All I know is that we could be first, second, third, or fourth. Or sixteenth. Does that answer your question?”

  Ben laughed. “I suppose it does, sir,” he replied.

  The Captain spoke to the whole school each morning and showed the crew where they were on the chart. He could be quite sure of this from his instruments. GPS will show you exactly where you are anywhere on the surface of the Earth, but Captain Macbeth still liked to use the old methods of finding their position. By plotting how long they had been sailing and at what speed, he was able to estimate how many nautical miles the Tobermory had covered, and from that he could work out exactly where they were.

  Looked at on the chart, their progress seemed painfully slow. But that was because Australia is so big and their route so long. Gradually, though, they inched their way closer to the tip of the continent.

  Their route had taken them far out to sea, but now that they were nearing Cape York they were much closer to land off their port side. It is a remote and lonely part of the country. There are a few towns and harbours, but these are separated from one another by long distances and the land is rough and impenetrable. In these parts, you can drive for hours along one of the rough tracks and not see a single other person. And you have to be careful: if you stray off the track into the bush, you can very quickly lose your way and never be seen again. It is not the sort of place for people who do not know what they are doing.

  The coast is just as deserted, with long miles of empty beaches backed by dense forest. There are cliffs and outcrops of jagged rocks that jut out into the sea; there are river mouths that give a glimpse of thick vegetation along the banks beyond. There are distant, mysterious hills, shimmering in the heat. If you ever wanted to imagine the very edge of the world, this is what you might see in your mind’s eye.

  On the morning of the day they got closer to land, Ben and Badger were on look-out duty. This involved climbing up the main mast to the small platform known as the crow’s nest. Not everybody liked going up there – and those who had no head for heights would be excused by Mr Rigger and given some other duty. But Ben and Badger both liked being high up and enjoyed the view that the crow’s nest afforded.

  Their job as look-outs was to see if there were any hidden reefs. The water here is shallow, and although the charts mark the main rocks, there are always obstacles that the chart-makers might have missed. It is possible, too, that there could be small boats that those manning the helm might miss but which would be visible from up high. These boats belonged to local fishermen from the small communities who live in this lonely place. They are not many in number, but they have lived there for thousands of years and they know every inch of this vast territory.

  It was Ben who saw something first, as they were sailing past the mouth of a wide bay. In the middle of the bay he noticed there was a small island, and that there was something on it. At first he thought that it might be an animal, but then, as he squinted against the glare, he saw that it was a person, who seemed to be waving their arms to attract attention.

  “Look over there,” said Ben. “There’s somebody on that little island, Badger.”

  Badger had a pair of binoculars slung around his neck and he now raised these to get a better view. “Yes, you’re right,” he said.

  “What’s he doing there?” asked Ben.

  Badger looked again. With the motion of the ship, it was difficult to see clearly, but after a moment he slipped the strap over his head and handed the binoculars to Ben. “See what you think, Ben,” he said. “I’d say he’s waving for help.”

  Ben looked at the island and the small figure on the sand at its edge. “Yes,” he said. “I think you’re right, Badge. We should tell Mr Rigger.”

  Badger cupped his hands and shouted as loudly as he could: “Mr Rigger! Mr Rigger!”

  Down on the deck below, Mr Rigger looked up to the crow’s nest. He had been teaching a small group of students how to take compass bearings, but a warning from the look-outs took priority over everything else.

  Mr Rigger cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted back, “What is it?”

  “Somebody on that island,” replied Badger at the top of his voice. “He’s signalling to us.”

  Mr Rigger went to the side of the deck and looked over. He could see the island in the distance, but from where he was standing he could not see anybody on it.

  “Are you sure?” he shouted up to Badger.

  “Yes,” yelled Badger. “We’re sure.”

  Now Mr Rigger did not hesitate. “Alter course twenty degrees to port,” he called to Angela Singh and Thomas Seagrape, who were on helm duty.

  “Altering course,” they responded in unison. “Twenty degrees to port.”

  The great ship’s bow swung round obediently and soon the Tobermory was heading directly for the island, cutting through the shallow green water at a speed that would bring them to their destination within fifteen minutes or so. Aware that something was happening, those who were not on duty massed up at the bow of the boat, interested in seeing what it was that had caused them to change course.

  Mr Rigger called Captain Macbeth from his cabin. The Captain now went to the helm and stood beside Angela and Thomas, ready to take over should he have to. As he stood there, he gave orders for some of the sails to be rolled up so that the Tobermory would be slowed down by the time they neared the island. He also ordered the engine to be started so that the ship could be more easily manoeuvred.

  “Look-outs down from the crow’s nest,” he shouted to Ben and Badger. “And well done for spotting this.”

  Ben and Badger both felt proud, as a compliment from the Captain was much sought after.

  “I hope that person on the island wasn’t just waving to say hello after all,” muttered Badger. “We’ll look a bit silly if he was.”

  Ben shook his head. “No, I think he really does
need help,” he said.

  As the Tobermory drew closer to the island, Ben and Badger were able to see that they were right. It was now clear that the figure on the island was a boy, and that he was very pleased that they were coming to the rescue. Although he had stopped waving his arms, he was pacing up and down anxiously. When they lowered one of the liberty boats, he immediately pointed out a safe place for the boat to land.

  As they were the ones who had spotted the boy, Ben and Badger had been chosen to row the boat that would take Mr Rigger and Matron ashore. Matron brought her first aid case, just in case the boy needed medical treatment, and Mr Rigger took a large bottle of water in case the castaway was thirsty.

  As they approached the beach, the boy waded into the surf to help guide the boat ashore. They saw that he was a local boy, probably a member of one of the groups whose land this is. These are Aboriginal people, who have lived in Australia for many thousands of years and who still speak the first languages ever to have been used on this great continent. They are hardy people, with the skills and knowledge to survive in conditions that would have defeated many others.

  The boy greeted them in English.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said, as he helped to haul the boat onto the sand.

  Mr Rigger introduced them. “My name is Rigger,” he said. “This is Matron, and these two here are Ben and Badger. They’re the ones who saw you waving.”

  The boy looked at Ben and Badger and grinned. “I’m glad you did,” he said. “And my name is … well, I won’t give you my full name because you won’t be able to say it easily. A lot of people call me Will, and you can do that, if you like.”

  Ben looked at Will. He was about the same age as Badger and him, he thought.

  “So what’s the trouble?” asked Mr Rigger. “How did you get stranded out here?”

  Will pointed out to sea. “I tied my boat to a rock at the edge of the beach and when the tide came in, it drifted off. I didn’t notice it until it was too late, and now it must be miles away.”

  Mr Rigger nodded. He had seen this happen before, though not in such an isolated place. “I imagine it’s gone for good,” he said.

  Will nodded. He had been smiling, but now his face fell. “It’s my own fault,” he said.

  Mr Rigger tried to make him feel better. “Every one of us has made a mistake,” he said. “There won’t be a single person at sea who hasn’t done something stupid at some point.”

  Will cheered up when he heard this. “It was an old boat,” he said. “It used to belong to my grandfather, but he doesn’t need it any more. It’s not the end of the world.”

  Mr Rigger now asked Will why he had come out to the island.

  “To meet the plane,” Will replied.

  Mr Rigger looked confused. “The plane?”

  “Yes,” said Will. “There’s a seaplane that comes here every other month. It brings medical supplies for our people.”

  They waited for him to continue.

  “You see,” Will went on, “our people live over there.” He pointed to some hills in the distance beyond the shore. “It’s very remote, and there are no roads. There’s a landing strip, but in the wet it’s just a field of mud and nothing can land there.”

  Matron looked puzzled. “In the wet?” she asked.

  Will smiled. “The rainy season,” he said. “We call it the wet. Most of the roads and tracks are blocked by mud.”

  Badger remembered that Poppy had said some-thing about this. She had told him how heavy rains could turn a dry plain into a lake in a matter of minutes.

  Will continued his story. “I usually come out to the island to pick up supplies,” he explained. “But a couple of days ago, when I came out here, I was late. I got the times mixed up, so when I arrived I saw the plane flying off into the distance. They must have thought I’d forgotten to come.”

  “Will it come back?” asked Ben.

  Will shook his head. “Not until next time,” he said. “And that will be two months from now.” He paused. “Unless we can get in touch with them.”

  Will looked expectantly at Mr Rigger, who immediately understood what Will meant.

  “We have a radio,” said Mr Rigger. “Would you like—”

  Will did not let him finish. “Oh, yes please!” he interrupted. “That’s just what we need. If I could get in touch with the Flying Doctors, maybe they can send the plane. It could be here by tomorrow.”

  Matron smiled. She knew all about the Flying Doctor service – the organisation that sends doctors by plane to the remotest parts of Australia where there are no hospitals or surgeries. “I’m sure we’ll be able to do that,” she said. “Won’t we, Mr Rigger?”

  Mr Rigger nodded. “No problem,” he said. “Let’s get back to the Tobermory straight away.” He turned to Will. “Come with us, Will, so you can speak to them. Then you can stay with us on board overnight.”

  At these words Ben started to think. They were meant to be in a race, and yet here was Mr Rigger saying that they would spend the night here. How could they possibly do that if they were to have any chance of winning? He wondered whether he should ask Mr Rigger about this, but something held him back. Will needed help, and it was one of the first rules of the sea that you never refuse help to somebody in need. Somebody like Mr Rigger, who had been brought up on the rules of the sea, would know that as well as he knew the alphabet.

  When they arrived back aboard the Tobermory, there was a large crowd on deck to welcome them. Badger thought that Will might have been nervous about meeting so many new people, but he did not seem in the least bit concerned. With a broad smile on his face, he climbed up the rope ladder onto the deck and shook hands with the Captain, who was waiting to greet him.

  Henry seemed particularly pleased to have Will on board. Barking with excitement, he leapt up to lick Will’s face, much to the amusement of all those watching.

  Poppy was keen to find out what had happened. “Was he shipwrecked?” she asked Badger.

  Badger told her about Will’s boat drifting away. Then he went on to explain that Will was hoping to get the seaplane to come the next day and that they would be staying where they were until then.

  “But what about the race?” asked Thomas Seagrape, who had been listening to their conversation.

  Badger shrugged. “We’ll just have to try to catch up later on,” he said.

  Thomas looked astonished. “But we can’t do that,” he said. “We’ve come all this way …”

  He did not finish. Captain Macbeth was clapping his hands together, a sign for everybody to gather round him.

  “As you will have noticed,” he announced, “we have carried out a rescue. According to the law of the sea, it is your duty – as I hope you all know – to help anybody in peril at sea.” He paused, looking out over the expectant faces of the crew. “Not only that,” Captain Macbeth continued, “but in this case we are offering some additional assistance. We shall be staying here to wait for some urgent medical supplies.”

  This brought a chorus of surprised – and disappointed – murmuring, but the Captain simply raised a finger and continued. “I know many of you will be upset that we’ll be losing valuable time, but we are doing this because it is the right thing to do. I hope everybody agrees.”

  There was complete silence, though William Edward Hardtack looked angry and Geoffrey Shark went so far as to sneer – but only behind a raised hand. Then Poppy spoke. “I think it’s exactly the right thing to do,” she said. “We understand, Captain.”

  Captain Macbeth smiled at her. “I’m glad you said that, Poppy. You’re an Australian and I think you understand how important it is to help people when you’re in a remote spot.”

  Geoffrey Shark looked at Poppy and gave a snigger. “Is he your boyfriend?” he asked under his breath, but just loud enough for Poppy to hear. “This guy we picked up – is he your boyfriend.”

  Poppy pretended not to hear. She had decided that this was the best tactic with som
ebody like Shark. If she pretended not to hear, he would be denied the pleasure of learning she was upset by what he had said.

  After the Captain’s announcement, Mr Rigger took Will down to the radio room, where a call was put through to the Flying Doctor service. After they had been told what had happened, they agreed that the seaplane would return the next morning with the medical supplies.

  Will was overjoyed at the news, and even more so when Mr Rigger assured him that they would make a boat available to take him ashore with the supplies as well as food and water for the journey back to his people.

  “And now,” said Mr Rigger, “you have a bit of time to look around our ship. You’ll join us for dinner and we’ll find a hammock for you to sleep in tonight.”

  Will enjoyed his dinner – he sat between Poppy and Badger – and afterwards they all played a game of cards. Then, when the time came to go to bed, a spare hammock was found and hung up in Ben and Badger’s cabin. Lights out seemed to come far too soon, and the three boys continued to talk well into the night, telling one another about their different lives. Will was interested to hear what Badger said about his home in New York. It was about as different as could be from the remote spot where his own people lived. As Badger listened to Will tell them about his hunting dogs and his canoe, he found himself thinking how he would happily exchange everything he had for the sort of life that Will led. You could not keep hunting dogs in New York, nor could you throw a boomerang, or fish from the beach, or ride on the back of a turtle. And Ben, listening with equal fascination to Will, found himself in complete agreement as he drifted off to sleep.

  The seaplane arrived shortly after breakfast the next morning. At first it was no more than a distant drone and a speck in the sky to the south, but a few minutes later everybody had a good view of it as it dropped down onto the bay, bounced about a bit as its floats engaged with the surface of the water and then taxied to a halt beside the Tobermory.