Jilda's Ark

by Verity Croker

  I take heaps of photos to post on Facebook and Twitter so all our supporters will be able see what their generous donations have achieved. Some of the photos will be turned into postcards and prints, which are some of the goodies donators will get in return for their pledge. We’re also going to make certificates with photos of individual animals for those who committed to a higher amount. Mum’s workplace offered to print and laminate them as their contribution to the cause.

  Now that we’re so close, we realize how difficult it will be to rescue them—but that’s what we’ve come here for.

  “Remind us of the best way to tackle this, Jonas,” says the captain.

  Jonas has been giving us advice about what to do on the trip over, as the more efficiently we can help the better. We need to do it as quickly as possible and get going. We still have many islands to visit to complete our mission, and then return home with the Tasmanian share of the animal cargo.

  “First of all we must keep as quiet as possible so as not to frighten them,” replies Jonas. “We need them to stay calm. If they panic, we won’t be able to catch them.”

  “What about eye contact?” I ask. “Should we look at them directly, or will that spook them?”

  “Eye contact with the pigs is good. They’re very intelligent animals and like to connect with people to build trust. Keep eye contact to a minimum with the others, though.”

  “Okay, cool. Here’s some of the treats we brought them,” I say, dragging one of the large sacks full of baby carrots we’ve carried with us to entice the pigs over to our ship, hoping the other animals will follow them. I use both hands to hold the neck of the sack, and am bracing my feet on the deck, trying not to strain my back. My stomach is rolling, but I’m determined not to let it stop me doing what I need to do. Jade comes over and helps me throw some of the carrots into the ocean between us and the shore. They float enticingly, bright orange against the blue water.

  “We’ll have to work in pairs to catch the pigs and dogs,” says Jonas. “One will throw out a lasso, and then we’ll need both rescuers to haul them in.”

  “What happens if we miss with the rope?” I ask.

  “Maybe you can be my sidekick, Jilda, while I toss the lasso,” says Jonas, but his voice is kind.

  I’m not too disappointed, as I can see his point. I don’t want to hold up the proceedings with too many attempts at hurling a rope. I wasn’t that good at quoits when I was young.

  “What about the chickens and cats?” I ask. I’m thinking I might be better at catching them.

  “They’ll very soon get waterlogged once they start swimming, so we have to get them in quickly. We must keep them really calm and rescue them fast once they’re in the water,” says Jonas. “The pigs and dogs will be able to swim for a longer period of time, so if different types of animals are close, grab the chicken or cat first, then get the dog or pig.”

  We really couldn’t have done all this without Jonas and his local knowledge.

  Small boats called tenders are let down from the ship, and one by one we start to rescue the animals. It will take us a couple of days to get them all, as there are literally thousands of them and only twenty of us. I work alongside Jonas, and Jade and Rosa team up with other rescuers. I’m so impressed at the empathy Jonas has with the animals. They swim toward him, as if they know he’s trying to help them, their eyes glowing and hopeful. Some of them are fearful and skittish, though, but trusting. I can see the panic in the chickens, as their eyes are darting furiously and they’re flapping their wings madly.

  Together, Jonas and I drag the animals into the tender. The pigs are incredibly heavy, but most are willing to help us pull them in, so their trotters scrabble on the sides of the boat to get purchase, and then we heave them up over the sides. I grab them round their necks, and Jonas leans farther out and hoists them up by their haunches. We use a similar tactic for the dogs, who are really eager to get in. My muscles are aching after only the first hour, but adrenaline keeps me going. Jonas works tirelessly at a feverish pace, and I’m not going to let him down. I know I’ll be sore tomorrow.

  The chickens and cats are much easier to bring onto the boat, as they’re so much lighter, but their feathers or fur are wet and their claws scratch us in their fright. The captain hunts around in his cabin and finds several pairs of long gloves, which help a lot. The chicken’s squawking is loud, and between them, the meowing cats, the oinking pigs, and barking dogs, it’s starting to sound like a wild menagerie on board. I feel guilty about the spiders and snakes, but I know we have to draw the line somewhere, as a ship full of scuttling spiders and slithering snakes would not be a pleasant place at all. Apart from that, none of us are snake handlers, and we certainly don’t want to get bitten by a snake or spider during our rescue mission.

  As soon as our tender is full of animals, we head back to the main ship and are winched up to off-load our cargo. When that’s completed, the tender is set down in the water again and we repeat the process. I soon lose count of how many trips we make in the tender. We have to keep working through the night, as the animals keep swimming toward us in a constant stream. They sense we’re here to help them and are making the most of the opportunity. Jade, Rosa, and I have to take a rest, though, as it’s physically impossible for us to keep up the constant effort. But Jonas doesn’t want to stop, so he pairs up with Rosa’s partner, who also seems to have superhuman powers.

  I lie down on my bunk for a few hours to get some rest, but my sleep is so disturbed by dreams of wet animals clambering all over me, I might as well be up and actually doing it. So I drag myself out of bed and shake Jade and Rosa awake. We return to the deck as dawn spreads its amazing red and orange streaks across the sky and sea. We’re not morning people, so we don’t often get to see the sunrise—but the scene is spellbinding. We hold hands, the three of us in a row. However, the sea full of swimming animals is such a surreal sight that it quickly consumes all our attention and energy.

  Finally we’ve finished our rescue mission, after having moved from island to island in the archipelago rescuing animals from every single one. Levy Archipelago is now empty of livestock and pets, and our ship is full with barely room to move. Jonas had said there were a lot of animals on their islands, but to see so many of them all crowded into one space has put it all into perspective. He told us that a lot of the families had animals, so it all makes sense, but still….

  After the rescue, we set off again to take the pigs and chickens to the different island countries who have agreed to purchase them. In other circumstances, it could have been a pleasure cruise, such are the tropical islands we visit. To think it wasn’t all that long ago Mum, Rosa, and I had enjoyed day trips to some of these places before our ship was taken over.

  But there is no relaxing on this ship. The strong smell of so many animals in such a confined space makes our eyes water, and it’s so noisy that it’s sometimes hard to think. We feed the animals, tipping cracked grain from huge hessian sacks into long troughs for the pigs and chickens, and dried pet food for the cats and dogs into other containers. We have to make sure they have enough to drink, and regularly clean out all their muck. We’re really careful to keep the food and water troughs separate from the waste buckets to avoid contamination. It’s lucky Jade and I had so much practice with bodily waste with all the sick passengers on the cruise, as a lot of what we have to deal with now is pretty similar! Rosa says she feels a bit squeamish as it’s so overwhelming, but she’s determined to do her bit to help keep the ship relatively sanitary.

  As we arrive at each port, authorities are there to count off the number and type of animals they’ve agreed to, money changes hands, and we’re soon on our way to the next destination. Finally we’ve relieved ourselves of all but the animals the Tasmanian government has agreed to take, and we head homeward.

  As we round the Iron Pot and sail up the River Derwent toward Hobart, I can’t help but compare the emotions to when I traveled up the river after our ship
had been commandeered by the Levy government, realizing I would soon be home. I’m proud of what we’ve achieved in saving all these animals from the horrible fate of terrified drowning, and can’t really believe Jade, Rosa, and I have played such a huge part in it. It doesn’t really seem all that long ago that Rosa, Mum, and I had flown to Sydney to join our cruise to celebrate our sixteenth birthdays, but I feel much, much older and wiser now than when we left.

  Thousands of spectators, politicians, and a media contingent are waiting on the docks for us. Mum and Dad are right at the front of the crowd and beaming—they’re so excited and proud. They’re relieved we’re safely back, but they say it’s nothing compared to the relief they felt when I came back the first time. We stay at the docks for hours and hours while authorities deal with the thousands of animals, and then head home, exhausted and filthy.

  Now that our mission is over, Jade says it’s time for her to go home. She knows she can’t live with Mum, Rosa, Marta, Jonas, and me forever. Her gap year is almost up, and her parents are desperate to see her.

  I love every minute being with her, and it’s heartbreaking to think she has to leave. She and I are really getting to know each other so well after all we’ve been through together now, and I know she feels about me exactly the same way I feel about her. Breaking up with Zac was the best thing I could have done. Who knows where Jade’s and my relationship will go, but with modern technology we’re determined to keep in touch and find out.

  On the day of Jade’s departure, I find it hard to stay positive. On the way out to the airport, we sit in the back seat, holding hands. Rosa and Mum chat away to each other, intentionally not including us in their conversation so we can be in our own private world until the last minute. I’m trying to imprint on my mind the exact feeling of Jade’s fingers in mine, wondering when I’ll be able to feel them again. Jade’s fingers that can play the piano and braid my hair and weave magic on my skin. And tie ropes with protest signs from ships and drag pigs, dogs, cats, and chickens from the ocean.

  Jade releases my hand and feverishly scrabbles around in her bag. She finds a little red velvet box and passes it to me, insisting I open it. Inside is a pair of silver earrings in the shape of dolphins. I suddenly notice Jade is not wearing any earrings today. Without a word, I pick up one of the dolphin earrings and put it in her earlobe, then take out one of my turtle earrings and slot it in her other ear. She retrieves the remaining earring from the box and slips it into my empty earlobe. We gaze deeply into each other’s eyes, fully understanding the meaning of our actions.

  When we finally have to say goodbye at the airport, we hug so tightly, breathing in each other’s scent, not speaking. Our bodies tell us everything we need to know. I can’t bear the finality of that word—“goodbye.” Our lips part for one last, lingering, soft kiss.

  Jade turns and waves as she crosses the tarmac, then stops at the top of the stairs just before she enters the plane. She pivots around completely to face the terminal—she won’t be able to see me, but I can see her as she waves and waves and blows a big theatrical kiss. I blow one back. I don’t want Jade to disappear from view, but suddenly she’s gone. Mum puts her arm around me, and Rosa does too, from my other side. I feel so loved and protected, but at the same time I have never felt so utterly alone.

  Chapter Eighteen: What Next?

  THE SHIP that brought us to Hobart the first time has long since gone—apparently it went straight back into service as a cruise ship, as soon as all the original passengers’ belongings were returned to them. News reports say nothing was missing, which is amazing considering the number of people on the ship. So it seems the only theft was of the ring on Levy Archipelago itself, before coming on board. We hear the cruise company tried to fine the Levy Archipelago government for loss and damage to their reputation, but we aren’t sure what’s happening there. It will probably be a long, drawn-out affair. The other nine ships have been sent back to the ship wrecking yard to be scrapped as per the initial plans for them.

  We found out later that a tsunami in Levy Archipelago was the final straw that set the whole idea in motion. A huge wave had just trundled across the islands and kept going, because the islands were so low-lying. But a cruise ship had been in that day, which gave one of the archipelago leaders the idea to sail the entire population away together, as the ship just rose up on the massive tsunami wave and came back down again, undamaged.

  He started organizing retired cruise ships to be fitted out to take as many passengers as physically possible. He was just one cruise ship short when someone bribed the supervisor in charge of the refurbishments to spill the beans about what was happening with the ships. He didn’t have enough time for a final ship to be prepared in the ships’ graveyard, so he had to immediately think of a desperate alternate plan. The plan for the hijacking of an existing suitable cruise ship to make up the numbers was conceived and implemented: my ship. The converted ships and the one I was on then converged on Levy Archipelago and took the entire population on board in one go and sailed to Australia.

  Once the mass of humanity was temporarily housed and sheltered, the Tasmanian premier said population growth was just what Tasmania needed, and the people from Levy Archipelago would not be turned away. Being a regional center, Tasmania was in a good position to grant special visas for these genuine climate refugees who had come in desperation and in peace.

  There are still regular protests by those who want the people of Levy Archipelago to leave. But the premier says an increased population does not take away jobs, that in fact it creates jobs, as more services are needed, more schools, shops, and houses need to be built, there is more spending power, and so on. And the new inhabitants bring all their different skills, ideas, and richness of culture. Of course, building for all these people will take time, and so meanwhile everyone who can and is willing is doing their bit to provide accommodation and jobs in different parts of Tasmania.

  The people from Levy Archipelago are slowly but surely being provided with housing in rural areas to build up those areas economically and not put too much pressure on the main population centers. After their pets have been through their quarantine period, and have been neutered, vaccinated, and pronounced healthy, they are returned to their owners.

  Marta and Jonas have settled into life in the coastal town of Primrose Sands, not that far from Hobart, where Jonas is once more working as a fisherman. Marta is pregnant again and glowing.

  Jade and I are in contact every day, and usually several times a day, and our relationship, if anything, is getting closer despite the distance. Before our experiences on the ship and saving the animals, we had both been uncertain of our futures—but now she is sure she wants to be a nurse or even a doctor, and I really want to be an environmentalist.

  And I would just love to visit a town with a name like “Kissimmee.” Wouldn’t you? I’m working hard at my part-time job at Mures and saving up—I’ve almost got enough for the airfare already.

  This is probably a good spot to stop.

  This is my story.

  And it’s all true.

  Or it will be.

  POST SCRIPT

  ALTHOUGH THIS is a fictional story, and Levy Archipelago is a figment of my imagination, many islands around the world are at risk of inundation due to rising sea levels caused by global warming. One such nation is Kiribati, which has a “Migration with Dignity” policy. They are a communal nation, where everyone shares close bonds by blood or clan and have a strong connection to the land. Their government is trying to negotiate with other countries so that their population will have somewhere to go in the near future, as their nation is under threat from the ocean. They will be true environmental refugees, the victims of human activity not of their making. The world needs to wake up and take notice of the consequences of our actions, of the human ignorance and greed that have led us inexorably toward this dire situation.

  The islands are very narrow and low-lying, and it is estimated that b
y 2030 they will start to disappear under the waves. Coral, stone, and concrete seawalls have failed to hold back the rising tides as they collapse under the strain. Houses have already had to be moved, and plants the locals depend on for food, such as taro and plantain, are dying due to salination of the groundwater. People rely on rainwater to drink as underground water sources become salty and undrinkable.

  Primrose Sands, among other coastal areas in Tasmania, is becoming a victim of global warming too. The tides are reaching higher, and locals are beginning to be concerned.

  Have a look at the website www.coastalriskaustralia to see how rising sea levels will affect different parts of Australia in the future. It is a sobering website to visit, but do.

  More from Verity Croker

  Life in a small mining town can be like living in a fishbowl, where everyone knows everybody else’s business. Fifteen-year-old Jodi’s mother wants her father to quit his binge drinking and his dangerous job at the mine—even more so after a collapse leaves two miners dead and three trapped deep underground.

  As tensions escalate both at home and around the town, Jodi seeks comfort with her friends but soon faces a double betrayal. Meanwhile, her ten-year-old brother Jake reacts by joining a gang of schoolyard bullies who engage in increasingly dangerous antics.