‘But you can’t swim,’ Annalie said. ‘Anyway, it’s my boat, my idea. I should go.’
‘You’re brave,’ Pod said.
‘Or stupid,’ Annalie said, with a nervous laugh. She got ready to jump over the side.
‘Hate wet!’ Graham squawked from the rigging. ‘Allie drown!’
‘I hope not,’ Annalie said, and she jumped, before she could change her mind.
It’s not that far, she told herself, treading water beside the boat. It’s really not that far. But she could feel the pull of the current and the waves rolling beneath, and the thought of having to swim right under the hull seemed terrifying, now that she actually had to do it.
‘Coming down!’ Pod yelled, and released one end of the plastic sheet. She grabbed it, then tucked it into her waistband so she could use both hands to swim.
All right, she thought. This is it.
She took a deep breath, then another, and dived.
Down into the shadows. Down under the boat. Down past the tear that was threatening to sink them all. It was deep, deeper than she anticipated. Panic threatened to overwhelm her and she thought, I’m not going to be able to make it all the way. But she was committed now, too deep to go back. She swam hard, kicking and stroking, dragging the tarp down into place. Her lungs were already straining. She moved under the centreline of the boat, the lines in her hand, and started coming up the other side. The lines caught—stuck somewhere—she felt herself held, trapped. She didn’t want to let the lines loose and have to start all over again. She tugged on them, her lungs straining, panic rising. All at once the lines slipped free, and she swam and swam, up to where the light sparkled, so far away still, up and up, her lungs so tight she was about to burst—
She surfaced, sucking air in with a huge shuddering sound.
Pod was staring down at her, his face fearful. ‘You okay?’ he yelled.
‘Fine!’ Annalie shouted back.
She held the lines up to him, and he grabbed them with a boathook and secured them, hauling on each one until the plastic was pulled tight. When all the lines were in place, Annalie swam back around to the holed side and ducked under once again to see what she could see. The tarp was wrapped tight around the hull. The hole was covered.
Pod helped her back on board and for a moment Annalie just sat there, gasping, the adrenalin rattling through her system.
‘We should go and see if the water’s still coming in,’ she said once she had her breath back.
Pod gave her his hand and hauled her to her feet.
Essie turned to them as they came into the waterlogged cabin. ‘You did it!’ she said. ‘The water’s stopped!’
Annalie and Pod came and crouched down next to Essie so that they could examine the hole. The plastic was stretched tight across the gap in the hull and it did indeed look like the water had stopped coming in.
‘It’s not a permanent solution,’ Annalie said, ‘especially once we get underway again. But at least now we can try and use the repair kit, and that should hopefully be enough to get us to Uncle Art’s place.’
Pod turned to her. ‘You saved us,’ he said, his voice formal.
‘I haven’t saved us yet,’ Annalie said, touched, but also slightly embarrassed.
‘I couldn’t have done what you did,’ Essie said. ‘Neither of us could. That was amazing.’
Annalie felt unexpected tears prickle in her eyes. But all she said was, ‘We’d better try and get this boat dry.’
Fever
With the hole repaired, at least temporarily, they sailed on, putting plenty of distance between themselves, the reef, the channel, and any more boats the destroyer might have sent after them. Spinner’s self-steering mechanism kept them on course, freeing Pod, Essie and Annalie to clear up the mess. They had plenty to do: there was more than a foot of water in the bottom of the boat, and everything was sodden. It took them the rest of the day to get the boat pumped and baled out. Graham sat up high, well clear of the water, squawking, ‘Hate wet!’
‘You want to swim?’ Pod said, playfully threatening the bird with a bucket full of water.
Annalie used the repair kit they had on board to patch the inside of the hull, and hoped that would fix the problem. Then they dragged all the wet things up and spread them out on the deck, hoping they’d dry out.
‘Where to next?’ Pod asked, when the work was done.
‘I still have to work that out,’ Annalie said.
In their flight from the destroyer, they had abandoned their old route. When they planned the journey originally they had intended to take the route everyone took, and which the destroyer would still have to take: up the normal shipping lanes, around the top end of the reef, then south-east again to the Lang Langs. By taking the tiny channel through the middle of the reef they had managed to lop at least a week’s sailing from the journey; now, instead of sailing up the reef, crossing it where everyone else crossed, and then sailing back down in a south-easterly direction, they would have to travel more or less due east to reach the Lang Langs. Their goal was now much closer than it had been at the start of the day, and that had to be good news.
When night fell they were all exhausted. Will slept where he’d spent the day, on the bench seat in the saloon. The girls retired to their cabin, while Pod slept up on deck. He claimed not to mind—he wasn’t used to beds anyway. Annalie set the autopilot before she went to bed, intending to get just a few hours sleep before she went back up on deck. But in fact she slept deeply until dawn.
When she emerged from her cabin the next morning she found Will already awake.
‘How are you doing?’ she asked.
‘My leg hurts,’ he said. There was blood soaking through his dressing.
‘We should change that,’ she said. She got the first-aid kit and found that Essie had already used up a lot of the dressings. She unwrapped the bandage carefully and eased the sodden dressings off the wounds. They didn’t look too good, although she wasn’t sure what a good gunshot wound was supposed to look like. His skin felt hot.
‘Do you have a fever?’ she asked. ‘You feel hot.’
‘I’m not hot,’ he said fretfully. ‘I’m cold.’
‘Let me put new dressings on,’ Annalie said, ‘and I’ll get you something to warm you up.’
She cleaned the blood away, put a little more disinfectant on the wounds, and wrapped them up again carefully. Then she went to find something warm to wrap him in.
The blankets were still wet, and Will had not brought any warm clothes of his own. Annalie couldn’t think what she’d be able to find to wrap him in—perhaps a forgotten beach towel?—but then she opened a locker in the boy’s cabin and saw something hanging there. It was a wool jumper, Spinner’s jumper, knitted with huge chunky stitches, warm and dry. Annalie took it out and snuggled it against her, thinking about Spinner. He used to put this on for cold days in the unheated workshop, or nights on the boat when the wind was howling and you could feel the cold of the ocean pressing in on you from every side. It smelled of salt and sweat and Spinner, and Annalie felt a wave of sadness and longing sweep over her. How she missed him. How she hoped they’d guessed right when they chose this destination. She had no next step, no Plan B. If they were wrong, they would be truly lost.
She went back into the saloon and helped Will put the jumper on. He put it on without a struggle, perhaps not even noticing what it was as he huddled into it.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said Will.
Soon the others appeared and began to make breakfast. Pod looked at Will, frowning, then said to Annalie, ‘He don’t look good.’
It was true; Will didn’t look well at all. ‘I think he needs a doctor,’ Annalie said.
‘Where do we find one out here?’
Annalie could only shrug.
It was Essie who made the next unwelcome discovery. ‘Something’s wrong with the tap,’ she said, turning the tap that supplied water from the main water
tank.
Annalie turned to look, not yet alarmed. ‘We should have plenty of water,’ she said. She went to check the levels in the tank, Pod and Essie following.
The tank should have been full. But it wasn’t. When they pulled it out for closer examination, they discovered two bullet holes in it. One of the other smaller tanks had a hole in it too, about halfway down. The last was intact.
‘We’ve lost most of our water,’ Annalie said in dismay.
‘That must have happened when the marines were shooting at us,’ Essie said.
Pod looked a little guilty. It was him the marines had been shooting at.
‘This is still enough though, isn’t it?’ Essie said.
‘No,’ Pod said. ‘Not enough.’
‘Not if something goes wrong, or we get becalmed, or lost,’ Annalie said. ‘We’re going to have to get more water before we move on.’
Once again she checked the charts, and saw that there was another pair of islands not too far out of their way—it would add perhaps another day or two’s sailing to their journey. But with their water supplies so depleted, they had little choice.
‘D’you know anything about this place?’ Pod asked.
‘Nope,’ Annalie said.
‘Let’s just hope they have water,’ Essie said.
Annalie adjusted their course, but the winds were slight, and they sailed all that day and the next without seeing land.
Will’s condition did not improve. He swung unhappily between burning heat and shivering chills, ridden by fever. They ran out of dressings and had to start making them from spare clothes.
On the morning of the following day, the rising sun revealed the bumpy edges of an island emerging on the horizon. They sailed towards it, eager but trepidatious. Would there be water? What else might they find there?
When they got closer they could see the small island was topped with long-dead trees.
‘Any point going ashore?’ Annalie asked, although she’d mostly made her mind up already.
‘Nothing there,’ Pod said. ‘Only salt.’
They sailed on.
They came to another island that looked much more promising. It was larger, and covered with greenery. Growing things meant the island had water. But would they be able to access it?
They sailed closer, and saw a smudge of something above the trees: smoke. ‘There might be people on the island,’ Annalie said. ‘If there are people, there has to be water.’
‘We don’t know who they are,’ Pod said. ‘Could be pirates. Could be anybody.’
‘But maybe they’re just ordinary people who’d be happy to sell us some water,’ Essie suggested, trying to look on the bright side.
‘It’s not like we’ve got a choice,’ Annalie said.
Pod and Annalie had made repairs to the two damaged water tanks as they travelled. Now, they headed for the green island, looking for somewhere to land.
Graham was not at all happy about this plan. ‘Bad island,’ he said, watching it loom from the safety of Pod’s shoulder. ‘Lots of cats.’
‘I hope it’s just cats,’ Pod said, stroking Graham’s plumage.
As they sailed into a likely-looking bay, people began to appear on the shore.
‘They’ve seen us,’ Pod warned.
Graham flew up to a perch high in the rigging.
The people began to drag out an assortment of boats—old-world tinnies and sea-kayaks, canoes made from island materials—and came paddling out to meet them.
‘See any weapons?’ Annalie asked.
‘Not yet,’ Pod said.
The boats drew closer. The people in them were open-faced, smiling. They all wore white.
‘Hello there!’ a man called.
‘Welcome, travellers!’ called a woman from a second boat.
Annalie and Pod exchanged a look. This wasn’t quite the welcome they’d been anticipating.
‘Hi,’ Annalie called back. ‘We don’t want any trouble. We were hoping you could help us with some water.’
‘You won’t find trouble here,’ the woman said, paddling closer. She was in an old kayak labelled with the name of a long-defunct adventure travel company. ‘We welcome all travellers to our island, if you come in peace.’
‘We definitely come in peace,’ Annalie said.
The little flotilla of boats was now arriving around the Sunfish. Smiling faces turned up towards them, like a field of daisies.
‘How can we help you, young woman?’ the first man asked.
‘We need water,’ Annalie said.
‘Water is a gift,’ the man said. ‘We share this gift with you.’
‘Share?’ asked Pod, checking the terms of the deal.
‘In return, you may share a gift with us,’ the man said.
‘Um, okay,’ Annalie said. ‘We have some money—only a little money. Or we can trade with you, if you’d prefer.’
‘Your gift is your choice,’ the man said.
‘I don’t suppose you have a doctor on your island, do you?’ Annalie continued. ‘Or some antibiotics?’
The people in the boats looked at each other, murmuring. ‘No doctor,’ the woman said. ‘But perhaps we have antibiotics. If we do, we will share this gift with you too.’
Annalie looked at Pod and Essie. ‘What do you reckon?’ she whispered.
‘They seem so nice,’ Essie said.
‘Too nice,’ Pod said darkly.
Annalie turned back to the woman and said, ‘Forgive me for asking this—I don’t want to insult you. But we haven’t met many people out this way who are as friendly and welcoming as you.’
‘We are the Welcoming Friends,’ the woman said. ‘We believe that we celebrate our god by offering our gifts and hospitality to all. We welcome others to our domain as one day our god will welcome us to hers.’
Annalie looked at the others.
‘They’re religious,’ Essie said. ‘I’m sure it’ll be all right.’
Pod scowled, but said, ‘Not much choice.’
‘Okay then,’ Annalie said. ‘We accept your kind gifts. Thank you.’
The Welcoming Friends
It was decided that Essie would stay on the boat with Will, while Pod and Annalie loaded the water tanks onto the dinghy and took them ashore. Since they still weren’t quite sure how the gift economy worked, Annalie took some money, one of Spinner’s old books, a tin of peaches, and some spare parts. Surely there would be something in there the islanders could use.
Pod rowed, miserable and hunched.
‘At the first sign that there’s anything wrong with all this,’ Annalie reassured him, ‘we run. Even if we haven’t got what we want.’
Pod nodded, still not looking happy.
They pulled up on the tiny strip of sand with all the other little boats. The islanders clustered around to help them lift the water tanks out of the dinghy. They led Annalie and Pod to a huge water tank and filled their tanks for them, then carried them back to the dinghy.
‘The gift of water,’ said the woman who’d spoken to them first.
Annalie recognised a prompt for payment. ‘Here is my gift in return,’ she said, offering them some money.
The woman smiled politely, but it didn’t quite seem enough, so she gave her the peaches as well. This seemed more satisfactory. The woman took the peaches with a broad smile. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘you seek antibiotics?’
‘If you can spare them,’ Annalie said.
‘Come to our village,’ the woman said. ‘And we will see.’
The woman began to lead the way. Annalie followed. Pod didn’t look keen, but he didn’t resist either.
‘Are you hungry?’ the woman asked. ‘We love to share a meal with our guests and let them experience our way of life. We could prepare a banquet for you.’
‘That sounds really nice,’ Annalie said nervously, ‘but I don’t think we can stay. We’d love to know more about your way of life but we have people waiting for us, and we’re already running
late.’
Was this the moment when the smiling, kindly people switched from welcoming to wrathful?
But the woman kept smiling. ‘What a pity. I hope you’ll reconsider. Our banquets are very special.’
They were now on the outskirts of a village. Once, it had been something much grander, perhaps a resort. Now, the tropical foliage was trying to tear it down, and it looked like it was going to succeed.
‘Come,’ the woman said, arriving at the steps of what had once been a grand lobby, ‘I will take you to our stores and you can look for the thing you seek.’
‘No,’ Pod said, before Annalie could answer. ‘We’ll wait here.’
Pod could not shake the suspicion that something was not right about this place. On his own, he would never have gone to their village, and he would certainly not step inside one of the buildings, and he wasn’t going to let Annalie step inside one either. The crumbling resort looked like the kind of place he’d grown up in: a slave-hole you couldn’t escape from. He wouldn’t willingly step inside one ever again.
Annalie looked at him, surprised, but then nodded.
The woman looked only mildly disappointed, then disappeared inside the building.
Pod and Annalie waited. The sun blazed down. There were white-clad people all around them, more of them all the time. They all seemed very interested in Pod and Annalie and were eager to talk to them.
‘Will you join us for the feast?’
‘You must come for the feast!’
‘You have never experienced anything so delicious!’
‘I’m sorry,’ Annalie said, politely but firmly. ‘We can’t stay for the feast.’
‘You will be the guests of honour!’
‘You must stay!’
‘You must!’
They were bringing ingredients and cooking utensils. Some of them began trying to move them along to a different part of the resort. The children wanted to stay where they were but the crowd pressed in closer, jostling them. Unwillingly, they found themselves moving deeper into the compound.
‘This way!’
‘Come!’
‘You’ll enjoy it!’
‘Look, I don’t think—’ Annalie tried to say.
Escape to the Moon Islands: Quest of the Sunfish 1 Page 21
