The Other Side of Nowhere Page 18

  I looked around for anyone on the beach. It was deserted aside from us.

  ‘Wanna take it for a spin?’ said Matt with a cheeky grin.

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ I agreed. But when we looked closer we realised there was no motor, only a couple of wooden oars.

  ‘Major fail,’ groaned Matt.

  ‘Come on, Matty, the exercise will do us good,’ I teased, putting Amira gently down in the bottom of the dinghy. I gave the boat a shove into the water. The others climbed in while I held it steady and then I stepped in and picked up the oars.

  The yacht wasn’t far from shore and as we drew closer Matt cupped his hands around his mouth and went to call out.

  ‘Don’t,’ I hissed. ‘Keep quiet.’

  ‘What? We want help, don’t we?’

  Maybe I’d become used to worrying about what lay ahead, but at that moment I felt it was better not to declare ourselves too early. ‘Just wait … Keep it down.’

  We slipped into the shade of the yacht’s stern and pulled up alongside a narrow platform just slightly below the water. The name Southern Belle was written in glittering gold letters across the stern.

  Matt climbed up and held the dinghy close as George took Amira onto the platform. I tied the dinghy to the stern before joining the others. Then, motioning to them to keep quiet, I climbed up the ladder and stepped lightly into the cockpit.

  The yacht was at least twice the size of The Dolphin. The first thing I saw was a long wooden table set for breakfast. A jug of juice sat in the middle surrounded by jars of jam, peanut butter and margarine. There were plates, knives and forks and glasses laid out for three, yet we’d only noticed two sets of footprints on the beach.

  ‘Ahem. Hello there, is anyone home?’

  George, Matt and Amira, now awake, climbed into the cockpit behind me. George took Amira by the hand and they sat on one of the benches covered in luxurious blue and white striped cushions that surrounded the cockpit. Matt went to pour himself a juice and I waved him away. Scowling, he stepped back and sat with the girls.

  ‘I’ll take a look below,’ I whispered to the others. ‘Wait here.’ I was about halfway down the stairs when I heard a rustling noise from inside the cabin. ‘Umm, hello? Is someone …’

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a movement, then a hooded figure sprang out from behind the stairs, arms waving wildly, holding a large kitchen knife.

  ‘Whoa! Take it easy.’

  ‘Get out! Get out!’ screamed a high-pitched voice from within the hood. My eyes fixed on the blade waving erratically in my face.

  ‘I said get out!’

  I slowly took a step backwards up the stairs, holding my hands above my head. As I did, I glimpsed brown, slender legs and grey boxer shorts covered in pink monkeys. I realised the hand on the knife was tipped with bright blue nail polish.

  ‘Hey, hey listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’

  ‘Who says I’m frightened?’ It was definitely a girl’s voice.

  ‘You’re American?’ It was the only thing I could think of to say. The hood tilted to the side.

  ‘What? So?’

  Then the hood fell off. A tangle of dark brown hair fell out across a long, tanned neck. She had large green eyes that narrowed as she sized me up. She was seriously pretty.

  I could feel a smile spreading across my face. I must have looked like an idiot. ‘So … um, welcome to Australia,’ I said.

  I thought I saw a flash of a smile on her lips, but then she raised the shiny knife again. ‘What? Who are you? Who else is up there?’

  ‘Um, well, I’m John, but everyone calls me Johnno. Up there is my brother Matt, my cousin George … she’s a girl, and then there’s Amira. She’s six and, well, she’s kind of a refugee, I guess.’

  ‘She’s a what?’ The knife flashed and thrust forward again.

  I realised I was probably not making any sense, so I took a deep breath and paused, trying to collect my thoughts. ‘Look, we didn’t mean to … trespass. We just really need help. Your help.’

  For a moment she didn’t respond at all, as if she hadn’t even heard what I’d said. The girl was about my height and I figured about my age. Her eyes narrowed again, like she was trying to decide whether I was some kind of psycho or actually telling the truth. She chewed on her lip as she mulled over what to do or say next. The knife lowered but remained firmly gripped by her side.

  ‘Johnno … is everything ok?’ I heard George call.

  ‘Yep, everything’s cool,’ I answered over my shoulder. ‘Just coming back up.’

  I backed slowly up the stairs, watching the girl. She seemed happy enough to let me go up. Matt, George and Amira were huddled together along a bench seat at the rear of the cockpit and they looked at me questioningly as I came to sit next to them. I shook my head and waited for the girl to come up the stairs. After a few moments she appeared in the doorway, glancing furtively left and right as if anticipating someone might be lurking in the corners, lying in wait.

  George offered her sunniest smile. ‘It’s just us … You really don’t have to worry.’

  ‘You know, my parents are going to be back any minute.’

  ‘Not unless they’re good swimmers,’ said Matt.

  The girl frowned.

  ‘We kinda … borrowed their dinghy,’ I explained.

  ‘I could call the police, you know.’

  Slapping my hands on my knees, I stood up. ‘Yes! Exactly.’

  ‘Please. And the sooner the better!’ added George emphatically. ‘That’s why we’re here – we need a phone or a radio to call for help.’

  The girl’s eyes were darting around nervously. She was still holding the knife, but at least it was by her side and not waving in my face.

  ‘This is Amira,’ said George in a more gentle tone, wrapping a protective arm around her. ‘She’s been through a lot. I’m Georgina, by the way … And you are?’

  ‘… Stephanie,’ said the girl after a brief pause.

  George gave her a friendly smile. ‘Hi, Stephanie.’

  ‘Yeah, hi, Stephanie,’ I said clearing my throat. ‘Listen, I don’t mean to be rude –’

  ‘Ruder than you’ve been already, you mean?’ Stephanie said, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘What Johnno means, I think, is that we know you’ve probably got a heap of questions, but we don’t have a lot of time to explain,’ interrupted George. ‘We need to contact the police or the coastguard or someone right away. There’s a friend of ours still on the island, and we think he might be in trouble.’

  Stephanie hesitated, still unsure. Then, with a subtle shake of her head, she motioned down the stairs. ‘There’s a radio down below … And a satellite phone somewhere … Probably on the chart table.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said George with a relieved smile. ‘Could you help me make the call?’

  Stephanie let George pass and turned to follow her down the stairs. Then she looked back at Amira and gave a faint smile. ‘I’ll get some bread. You all look like you might be –’

  But before she had a chance to finish, Matt yelled out so loud it made everyone jump. ‘Hey, look! On the beach … It’s Nick!’

  Nick had emerged from the bush and was heading along the beach towards us. I felt an incredible surge of relief and was about to stand up on the cabin roof and shout to him, but almost immediately I realised something was wrong. He wasn’t moving right. Rather than running, he was sort of lurching along, doubled over, holding his stomach.

  I leapt up onto the seat and straddled the rail to get a better look.

  ‘Hey, stop that,’ shouted Stephanie.

  ‘No you stop!’ I snapped and then checked myself. ‘Look, I’m sorry we got you involved but we haven’t got time to muck about. We have to get out of here.’

  As soon as I said it I knew that was exactly what we had to do. I climbed back into the cockpit and tapped Matt on the shoulder. ‘Matty, grab the boat and go get Nick … I’ll get the anchor up.�
�

  Matt hurdled the railing, jumped down into the dinghy and took up the oars.

  Stephanie was standing with her mouth open, unsure of what to do. I spoke calmly and clearly to her. ‘Stephanie, we need you to start the boat and send a mayday call.’

  ‘You can’t just take my parents’ –’ she started.

  ‘Watch me,’ I said, pushing past her and leaping onto the narrow deck alongside the cabin.

  ‘Well, don’t think I’m helping you,’ she yelled after me.

  ‘George – make the call,’ I called over my shoulder as I moved towards the tip of the bow. A thick chain hung over the side, falling straight down into the sea. The water was so clear I could see the chain snaking along the sandy bottom towards a distant anchor.

  I lifted a piece of chain and pulled but it wouldn’t budge. For a second I thought I’d have to slink back into the cockpit with my tail between my legs to ask Stephanie how to get the anchor up. But then I noticed a large black button on the floor next to the chain. I pressed it with my foot and somewhere beneath the deck a motor whirred. Slowly the chain started to clunk its way up onto the deck and feed back into its compartment, link by link, until at last the anchor appeared out of the water.

  Moving quickly back around the side I could hear snippets of George making the call. She was yelling, desperately trying to make whoever was on the other end understand how urgently we needed help. I craned my neck to look over the stern of the yacht and saw Matt was getting close to Nick, who had waded into the water to meet the boat.

  I raced to the stern of the yacht just as George came up the stairs. She looked worried. ‘We might have a problem.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I radioed a mayday and got through to some emergency service, but someone else answered, too. They said they were from the Shell Harbour fleet and that they were nearby.’

  ‘Was it The Free Man?’ I said, suddenly realising that a distress call could be picked up by anyone, including the exact people we didn’t want to hear it.

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe?’ said George, looking worried.

  ‘We have to get going quick.’

  Stephanie appeared beside me. She flipped open a plastic cover next to the steering wheel and pressed a black button. Instantly the motor gurgled to life with a deep growl.

  ‘Now what, Captain Sparrow?’ she said with a wry smile. I noticed that a pair of denim shorts and a turquoise T-shirt had replaced the pink monkey pyjamas.

  ‘Can you get us closer to the beach?’

  She nodded towards an array of dials and gauges on the bulkhead wall. ‘What’s the middle one say?’

  I peered at the dial in the middle. ‘One point six.’

  She shook her head. ‘There’s only one and a half metres of water beneath the keel. We can’t get much closer.’

  ‘We have to try.’

  ‘If we bottom out, we’ll be stuck,’ she persisted.

  ‘Just try.’

  ‘Okay, okay, I’ll try, but don’t blame me when we run aground.’

  She eased open the throttle and spun the wheel hard to the right. The yacht surged forward, then started to circle back towards the shore. Matt was helping Nick into the dinghy. In a couple of minutes we’d get to them.

  ‘Johnno, look!’ George was pointing to the headland. My heart sank and all the hope that had been building only moments before seemed to shrivel into a tangled knot in the pit of my stomach.

  Coming around the point, only a few hundred metres away, was The Free Man.

  ‘Floor it,’ I yelled to Stephanie, who was standing by the wheel looking terrified.

  ‘I can’t,’ she shouted back, pointing at the dashboard of gauges. ‘There’s only a metre below the keel!’

  The gauge showed 1.0, then blinked and changed to 0.8. Immediately Stephanie pulled the throttle back and slammed the yacht into reverse. All around, the water churned and hissed, turning muddy brown as the yacht dredged up sand from the sea floor.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I snapped, trying to grab the wheel away from her.

  She swore and tore my hand from the wheel. I tried to shove her out of the way but as I did, George’s arm came out of nowhere and held me back.

  ‘Johnno, stop it! It’s too shallow.’

  All of a sudden, the pain in my head and body returned with a vengeance. The throbbing between my ears drowned out all rational thought. Stephanie glared defiantly as George tightened her hold on me. I looked over the stern again. The dinghy couldn’t have been more than thirty metres away. I saw the bewildered look on Matt’s face as we started to reverse away. He began to row harder but it was no use. The dinghy was falling further and further behind every second.

  The Free Man had cleared the point, its high, sharp bow slicing through the waves, throwing out plumes of white water on either side. It was moving at speed and closing in on us fast.

  ‘They’ve seen us,’ said George, dropping her hold on my arm and instinctively wrapping a protective arm around Amira, whose eyes were wide and frightened.

  The trawler wasn’t just coming towards us, it was coming right at us. I could feel myself freezing up like a deer in the headlights, unsure where to turn.

  And then, bizarrely, bursting out of my screaming jumble of thoughts, I saw Matt on his bike with a monstrous truck thundering along the road, bearing down. I snapped into action, my head suddenly crystal clear.

  ‘Stephanie – give me the wheel,’ I said confidently, almost calmly.

  ‘No way!’ she said, gripping the wheel even tighter. ‘Do you have any idea how much this boat’s worth?’

  Ignoring her, I took the wheel and nudged her aside. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve got it covered … in cash.’

  ‘Huh? What are you talking about?’

  Maybe it was shock, or maybe she just thought I was too insane to mess with, but as I took the wheel and spun it hard, she didn’t resist.

  ‘Can you get life jackets for everyone?’ I said to her as she stepped back. ‘Do you have a little one for Amira?’

  She eyed me suspiciously for a moment, then, shaking her head, turned and disappeared below.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ asked George

  ‘Don’t worry. I have a plan.’ At least, I hope I do, I added silently.

  As I pushed the throttle forward and straightened the wheel, the yacht took off parallel to the beach, slowly gathering speed. Straightaway, the trawler altered its course, fixing its path on our stern like a heat-seeking missile.

  Stephanie ran back up the stairs and began handing out life jackets. Amira looked petrified and, as George helped her into a jacket that was way too big, she started whimpering.

  Stephanie came over and stood next to me at the wheel. ‘If you’re thinking you can beat that thing, think again. Southern Belle’s not that fast.’

  Even with the throttle fully open the trawler was clearly gaining on us. ‘Yeah, I’m getting that idea.’

  ‘But she turns on a dime.’

  ‘What?’

  She smiled a wicked little smile. ‘Let them get close, then turn as sharp as you can.’

  I looked at her in surprise. A minute ago she wouldn’t let me near the wheel – now she wanted to play dodgems.

  ‘Hey, if you stuff it up at least I can tell Dad it wasn’t me who totalled his boat,’ she said.

  ‘Sounds like a plan. Just tell me when.’

  She looked back at the approaching trawler. ‘Okay. They’re getting close, maybe ten or twenty boat lengths away.’

  ‘Which is it? Ten or twenty?’ I asked with a quick glance over my shoulder.

  ‘Ten.’

  ‘Right. Tell me when it’s five, then count down to one.’

  ‘One?’

  ‘You said let them get close.’

  ‘Yeah, but we don’t have to be a hood ornament.’

  ‘Just count, will you?’

  ‘Okay, fine. Whatever.’

  I snuck another glance over my shoulder. The traw
ler was close all right and not slowing. I felt sure they meant to ram us. My hands tightened on the wheel, so desperately wanting to turn it. Even Stephanie reached out instinctively to put a hand on the wheel and started to pull it. I didn’t push her away, just held even tighter, fighting her as well as myself.

  ‘Five …’

  The trawler’s engines growled above the purring of the yacht’s motor and the rush of the water fanning out from its barnacle-covered bow sounded like a waterfall.

  ‘Four …’

  ‘Hold it … Hold it,’ I muttered to myself.

  ‘For god’s sake … Three.’

  The trawler’s shadow crept into the cockpit. The name of the boat, The Free Man, loomed large overhead. George screamed as Stephanie let go of the wheel and fell back against her and Amira.

  ‘Two!’ she squealed.

  With every ounce of strength I could summon, I spun the wheel, around and around and around until it fully locked. For a split second it seemed like nothing happened. The trawler was right there, blanketing everything, so close I could almost reach out and touch it. It was like watching a horror movie. I gripped the wheel tighter in fear. Then the yacht lurched sidewards, almost turning on itself, and peeled away from under the trawler’s nose. I winced and held my breath.

  Suddenly there was a massive, bone-jarring crunch.

  The trawler hit the stern hard, pushing the yacht down at the back and, for one terrifying moment, it felt like we were about to be dragged under. I clutched Stephanie’s arm. From George’s arms, Amira’s sobbing cries filled the air.

  Then, incredibly, we were spat out sideways like a cork squeezing from a bottle. The huge wake of the trawler flooded over into the cockpit, slamming me to the floor. George and Amira started skating across the deck as the water drained back over the sides, and I grabbed George’s leg just in time. The three of us hit the rail hard and an instant later Stephanie crashed into the back of me, sending a lightning bolt of pain through my already tender ribs. The yacht bobbed on the spot in a kind of turbulent limbo then slowly started to move forward again.