‘Stand by to go about,’ yelled Meg. Obediently the crew members got into position. ‘Ready about.’
‘Ready,’ everyone chorused.
Meg turned the steering wheel so the catamaran headed directly into the wind. The crews released the sails and then hauled them in on the opposite side. The boom swung across.
‘Heads,’ warned Meg. Everyone in the cockpit ducked to avoid a collision with the boom.
Once again we were skimming over the ocean, further and further away from Kira Island. The Wandering Albatross heeled over slightly to the port side with the power of the wind. At first I was terrified. I had visions of the boat capsizing like we did in our kayaks just for fun, or of us all being flung into the sea – but no one else seemed very worried.
On the first shift, each of us on the helm crew had a chance to steer the boat. I loved the feeling of standing at the helm, holding the steering wheel and adjusting the direction slightly according to the breeze and the compass. It felt amazing to be in charge of this huge boat in the middle of the sea. The breeze whipped my hair back and the sun sparkled off the water like diamonds. It felt like I was flying.
My stint of steering went by way too quickly and I felt disappointed when Nigel told me it was time to hand over to Alex. I reluctantly stepped aside and took my turn checking the wind direction. I was officially in love with sailing.
After thirty minutes, we had left Kira Island far behind. All around us was the vast deep-blue ocean and overhead a dome of periwinkle-blue sky.
Captain Bellamy took over the helm and ordered us to change positions. Our crew was now in charge of the foresail, but there was nothing much to do as we skimmed across the water.
‘Look, dolphins,’ called Willow, peering over the side of the boat.
‘Why don’t you go up to the bow and get a closer look?’ suggested Nigel. We stood against the stainless steel rail and peered over the side.
A pod of five dolphins raced alongside the catamaran, surging and diving in the bow wake. They laughed up at us as if they were enjoying their performance.
‘Doesn’t it look like they’re having so much fun?’ I said.
‘They swim fast,’ said Alex.
‘Fastest marine mammals on the planet,’ said Meg proudly. ‘They’re just cruising now, but when they really try they can get up to forty kilometres per hour.’
‘Do you think this is Artemis’s pod?’ I asked. Artemis was a wild dolphin who had been orphaned as a calf. Until she was old enough to fend for herself, she was nursed by the marine biologists at Marine Animal Rescue, where Meg’s mum worked. Artemis seemed to love humans and often came to visit Meg’s family yacht or swim around the Beach Shack Cafe with her own calf, Jupiter.
Meg peered at the dolphins as they swam below. She could tell her favourite dolphins apart by the scars and notches in their fins.
‘That’s cheeky Jupiter,’ cried Meg, pointing down at the smaller dolphin who was surfing the bow wave at the very front. She checked the other dolphins zooming alongside. ‘And that one’s Artemis.’
Seeing the dolphins always made me feel happy.
‘They’ve come to wish us good luck for our camp,’ I said. ‘Mum always says that dolphins are a super-lucky sign.’
‘There it is,’ shouted Sienna, pointing to a dark stain on the horizon. ‘Shipwreck Island.’
Everyone strained to look. As we scooted across the water the dark smudge grew and took shape, revealing itself to be a small jagged island covered in green rainforest, curved around the startling aqua of a shallow lagoon. White foaming waves crashed on the ring of reef protecting the lagoon.
As we drew closer Captain Bellamy steered the catamaran to face directly into the wind and gave the order to drop the sails. The foresail began to flutter violently in the wind.
Charlie released the rope and the sail slid down the stay. Her group worked to pull the sail down, Hannah showing them how to drop it quickly and neatly onto the deck and stop it from billowing overboard.
When the sails were down, we all sat on the deck. Captain Bellamy started the engine and took the wheel.
‘The next stage is tricky as we need to pick our way through the passage in the reef,’ explained Captain Bellamy. ‘Can everybody please stay seated?’
We watched as Captain Bellamy steered the Wandering Albatross through the narrow gap in the rocky reef. I felt myself holding my breath. It was all too easy to imagine the polished white hull tearing open on those dark, sharp rocks. But she had obviously done this before, as the boat slipped easily through the channel and then we were floating across the calm, shallow waters of the lagoon.
About a hundred metres offshore Captain Bellamy stopped the engine and dropped an anchor overboard. The catamaran drifted to a halt. For a moment everyone was quiet as we looked in awe at the stunning island before us. The only sound was the lap of water on the coral sand and the haunting cry of the seabirds that swooped and darted over our heads. Then, all at once, everyone began to chatter excitedly.
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ cried Charlie.
‘It’s like a romantic castaway island in a movie,’ said Cici.
‘Is it really deserted?’ I asked, looking around in amazement. ‘Why doesn’t anyone live here?’
‘It’s too remote,’ said Meg. ‘Mum said there used to be a whaling station here, where the whaling boats would call in for fresh water and supplies, but thankfully that closed down about sixty years ago when the whales were nearly wiped out. Now the whales can come and go in peace.’
Meg’s mum was a marine biologist who studied whales, dolphins and turtles in the wild. Meg had grown up travelling the ocean on a research boat so she knew a lot about ocean creatures. A vision came to me of the peaceful lagoon filled with whaling ships plying their bloody trade. I shuddered.
‘Why is it called Shipwreck Island?’ I asked.
‘An old whaling ship hit the reef and sank here over a hundred years ago,’ said Cici.
Meg nodded and pointed to a dark shadow on the white sand of the lagoon bed. ‘That’s the wreck there. Jack said they went snorkelling around it last year and saw lots of fish, sea turtles, manta rays and even a few reef sharks.’
At first glance I thought the shape was a group of dark rocks underwater, but then realised it had the rough shape of a ship’s hull.
The crew began to lower a small boat called a tender over the side. Zoe set us to work carrying bags and boxes up on deck, ready to be loaded into the tender. The boat could take a crew member plus four passengers and a pile of luggage, so we would be gradually ferried over to the island.
Charlie, Meg, Cici and I stuck together. When it was our turn, we scrambled down the ladder at the back of the catamaran with armloads of gear and hopped aboard the boat. Then we were off, with Hannah at the tiller. Hannah drove slowly across the lagoon. Suddenly, she cut the engine and let the boat drift across the water.
‘Girls,’ she said. ‘Can you see that?’
We all gazed where she was pointing. About twenty metres away there was a small splash. A dark mass floated to the surface. Water spurted into the air.
‘It’s a green sea turtle,’ said Meg.
‘It’s so cute!’ said Charlie.
‘Can we go nearer?’ I asked. I was itching to get closer because I’d never seen a turtle in the wild before.
Hannah smiled at us. ‘We’ll see if we can float over. The sound of the motor will probably scare it away.’
We watched for a few minutes as the boat drifted across the lagoon. The turtle was about one metre long, with a mottled brown and olive-green shell. Its leathery head and flippers were speckled brown and cream. It gazed at us for a moment with wise, round eyes and then, with a lazy flick of its flippers, it disappeared under the water.
‘Oh, he’s gone,’ I said with disappointment. ‘I hope we get to see another one up close.’
Hannah restarted the motor and we putted across the water until the boat ground up onto the
sandy beach. We removed our shoes and jumped overboard, splashing in the water. A group who was already ashore came down to help us unload.
‘Pass me your guitar, Charlie,’ said Alex, wading out towards us. Charlie handed him her precious guitar and he carried it high above his head. Others grabbed the rest of the gear. I picked up my backpack and lugged it ashore.
‘Goodbye, girls,’ said Hannah from the back of the tender. ‘Have a great few days.’
The crew of the Wandering Albatross was sailing back to Kira Island and would return to collect us on Friday. ‘Bye, Hannah,’ we all called. ‘Thanks!’
Although it was only eleven o’clock in the morning, it felt like it had been an epic journey to get this far. As we made our way up the beach, Hannah roared off to fetch another load of passengers.
‘We’ve stacked all our stuff over there,’ said Sienna. ‘It will be a few minutes until the next boatload arrives.’
Set back from the beach was a large grassy clearing bordered by thick rainforest. In the centre was a fireplace ringed with round grey river stones and surrounded by rough wooden benches hewn from tree trunks. Olivia, Jemila and Tash were sitting there chatting. They smiled at us as we dropped our belongings on their pile. I gazed around curiously, fascinated by our exotic surroundings.
‘There are the old whaling station cottages,’ said Meg.
Towards the back of the clearing were the ruins of four timber cottages and outbuildings, surrounded by the skeletons of rusty machinery.
‘Let’s explore!’ suggested Charlie, her face alight with enthusiasm.
The four of us raced over.
As we scrambled around the remains of the derelict buildings it felt kind of eerie, like a tiny ghost village. Two of the cottages had only a few crumbling foundations to indicate where the rooms used to be. Another had three outer walls remaining, with a huge fireplace, iron hooks and a brick chimney. There were piles of rubble, broken bricks, a water tank full of holes and rusty-red winches and vats that must have been abandoned when the whalers left.
The largest cottage was just missing its roof and doors. The four of us crept inside. The ground was covered in gritty sand and weeds flourished inside the rooms. The house had a hallway down the centre, with two rooms at the front and two rooms at the back. A sapling grew in one bedroom, with its branches stretching towards the sky. The back rooms shared a large red brick chimney.
‘This must have been the kitchen,’ decided Charlie, pointing to a small oven door set in the side of the fireplace.
‘Imagine cooking in a wood-fire stove,’ said Cici. ‘The work and the mess!’
‘I wonder who lived here?’ I asked, looking around as though some clue about them might still be there.
‘The whalers,’ said Meg. ‘Tough men of the sea.’
‘Do you think they had families here too?’ I asked. ‘Would their children have lived here?’
‘Probably,’ said Meg. ‘It must have been lonely living so far from civilisation.’
There was something fascinating about the abandoned old buildings crumbling away and forgotten. Charlie bent down and picked up a shard of blue-and-white china that was half-buried in the sand. She rubbed it clean with her finger. It was cracked and dirty but we could clearly see the pattern of blue butterflies and flowers.
‘It’s crazy to think that someone ate their dinner from this china more than a hundred years ago,’ Charlie said. She put the shard on a ledge above the fireplace.
A bell rang out from the clearing.
‘We’d better get back,’ said Cici. We left the old cottage and went to join the others.
Everyone was now ashore with all the gear piled in the centre of the clearing.
‘Okay, year five,’ said Mrs Marshall. ‘Welcome to Camp Castaway.’
We all looked around. This grassy clearing was to be our home for the next few days.
‘Please break up into teams of five to share each tent,’ said Nigel.
Charlie, Cici, Meg and I instinctively moved together to form a group. The other six girls moved closer to Olivia.
‘I’d like the tents set up in a row along here,’ instructed Mrs Marshall, waving a hand to one side of the clearing. ‘Please don’t pitch your tent under any trees. The centre of the clearing will be our communal area for cooking, cleaning, eating and socialising. Okay, let’s get to work.’
The four of us went to grab a tent from the pile. There seemed to be a disagreement going on with Olivia’s group. Sienna, Willow, Tash, Jemila and Ariana clustered around whispering heatedly. Jemila shook her head. Ariana looked anxious, twirling a finger through her black hair. Olivia put her hands on her hips.
‘Ariana, you can be with Charlie’s group,’ said Olivia in a bossy tone loud enough for us to overhear.
‘But I thought I was going to be with you,’ said Ariana, sounding distressed. ‘You promised.’
‘We can only have five in the tent, Ariana,’ said Sienna. ‘You’ll have fun with the other girls.’
Tash and Willow nodded.
‘I don’t want to be with the others,’ said Ariana, shrinking closer to Jemila. ‘I want to be with you guys.’
‘Don’t be silly, Ariana,’ said Olivia firmly. ‘It’s already decided.’
I looked at Charlie, Cici and Meg and rolled my eyes. It was obvious that none of Olivia’s gang wanted to be with our group.
‘Do they think we have two heads?’ I whispered. ‘Or maybe we smell. Looks like no one wants to be in our tent.’ They all giggled.
Cici curled her hands into claws and pulled a scary face. ‘Beware the evil demons,’ she crowed in a dramatic voice. ‘Beware their terrible claws.’
We all laughed at her antics. Ariana noticed our joking and looked even more reluctant to join us. Zoe waved a hand towards the pile of gear.
‘Come on, everyone,’ said Zoe. ‘Let’s get to work. First you need to unpack your tent.’
‘Go on, Ariana,’ said Olivia impatiently. ‘You’d better go and help set up.’
Ariana looked pleadingly at her friends, her lip trembling. Sienna and Willow busied themselves with pulling the tent out of its cover.
‘Jemila, you can hammer in the pegs,’ said Olivia, handing her a rubber mallet. ‘Tash, you can unfold the poles.’
Ariana held back by herself as we started setting up our own tent. Cici read out loud from the instructions, while I laid out the metal tent pegs.
I felt sorry for Ariana. She was standing by awkwardly, part way between the two groups of girls. When I looked more closely, her eyes were red and watery, as though she was trying not to cry. I gave her a big smile and waved her over.
‘Looks like you’re with us, Ariana,’ I said. ‘Do you want to help me clear our tent site?’
‘Um, sure,’ said Ariana, coming closer. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. Together we cleared a patch of grass, moving away any stones and debris. I chatted to Ariana as we worked, trying to make her feel more comfortable.
‘Wasn’t it fun sailing over here? Did you see the dolphins?’
Ariana murmured a few yes or no responses to my questions as she picked up stones and twigs.
Charlie and Meg rolled out the inner tent with its groundsheet base. Then the four of us hammered in pegs at each corner to hold the tent sheet in place.
‘Make sure the base is really taut,’ said Cici, checking the instructions. ‘And hammer the pegs at a forty-five degree angle.’
With five of us working, it took hardly any time to erect the tent with its outer fly.
‘I think it’s a bit crooked,’ said Meg, standing back and gazing critically at our handiwork. She waved her hand to the right. ‘Charlie, tighten that rope a little more. Yep. That’s better.’
Meg rolled up the flap covering the entry and fastened it. We each ducked our heads to get inside our new home. The light inside was dappled pale green. The tent was just tall enough to stand in the middle, with the roof sloping down on each side.
T
here was a small room at the entrance with mosquito netting windows where we stacked all our gear. At the back was another larger room which would be our sleeping space.
‘Ahhh, a palace,’ joked Cici, spinning around. ‘Five-star luxury.’
‘How are we going to fit five people in here?’ I asked, dumping my mattress and sleeping-bag on the ground. ‘And who goes where?’
Charlie took charge.
‘Meg, why don’t you sleep there on the left-hand side? Pippa and I can go in the middle and Cici can go on the right side. Then Ariana, you can have the bigger space across the bottom so you don’t have to step over us to get out.’
We each rolled out our mattresses, with our sleeping-bags and pillows on top. Charlie sprawled out on her mattress. ‘Not too bad,’ she said. ‘A little bumpy.’
With five of us inside the tent in the tropical heat, it soon felt steamy. ‘Let’s go outside and get some fresh air,’ suggested Meg.
With our tent finally set up, I thought we might have a little time to relax. But no. The next job was to set up the communal space with foldout tables, chairs, and pots and pans stacked beside the rock circle of the fireplace. We used the ruin of the biggest cottage to store eskies and boxes of food. A thin rope was strung between two trees, with pegs to form a washing line where we could dry our swimming costumes and towels. It seemed to take no time at all to transform the empty clearing into a neat and orderly campground.
Zoe assigned teams to do jobs such as fetching buckets of water from the stream, stacking firewood and setting up an undercover gazebo for eating and socialising. The Sassy Sisters were on firewood duty, collecting armfuls of branches and twigs from the surrounding bush and carrying them back to camp. It was hot, dirty work. Ariana was supposed to be helping us but she slipped away by herself.
‘Well done,’ said Zoe, looking around with satisfaction. ‘Camp Castaway is in super-shipshape order. Now it’s time for lunch.’
‘Great, I’m absolutely starving,’ said Cici, washing her hands in a bucket of stream water that was placed near the fire.
‘Me too,’ said Alex, rubbing his stomach. ‘I could eat a feast.’
Camp Castaway Page 2
