The Sands of Shark Island

  “Where do you think it is?” asked Poppy.

  The Captain shook his head. “I have no idea,” he said. “It doesn’t look like anywhere I know.”

  “It must be of somewhere around here,” said Mike. “Captain Tommy always sailed in these waters.”

  “That’s true,” said the Captain, staring at one section of the chart. He put a finger on a section of sea near the island’s shore. “Look at that. It shows a very rocky passage. There’s plenty of detail – every rock’s there.”

  “And that bit over there?” asked Fee, pointing to a place on a section marked Beach. “What’s that?”

  The Captain peered more closely. He drew in his breath. “Well, well,” he began. “It’s a long time since I’ve seen that on a chart.”

  “What is it?” pressed Ben.

  “Quicksand,” said the Captain. “It shows where there are sinking sands.”

  The Captain spoke in a hushed voice, and it seemed to all of them that there was a note of fear in his tone. This was unusual – he was normally confident and frightened of nothing, but now he seemed worried.

  “What’s quicksand?” asked Badger.

  Thomas Seagrape knew the answer to that. “Sands that are full of water – a bit like custard,” he said, quite cheerfully. “But if you walk over them you’ll sink. Gulp! Down you go.”

  The Captain spoke to him sharply. “It’s no joke, Thomas,” he said. “I’ve known people to have a very nasty time in sinking sands.” He paused, remembering something painful. “People say they can suck you right down – they can’t. But you can get badly stuck in them – right up to your chest. And then, if the tide comes in you would certainly drown. I had a friend who was stuck in sinking sands for ten hours once. He was lucky to get out alive.”

  Fee shivered. There were enough dangers at sea, she thought, without sinking sands being added to the list.

  But then the Captain cheered up. “Still,” he said, “let’s not worry too much about that. I don’t think these particular sinking sands are any danger to us: we don’t even know where the island is.”

  Over the next half hour or so they busied themselves with tidying up and dusting the things they had found in the chest. Then the chest itself was given a thorough cleaning before its contents were neatly packed back inside. After that, the Captain dismissed them, and they returned to their cabins to get ready to set sail the following morning. Ben found himself thinking of the chart and the mysterious island it showed, but did not have time to dwell too long on the subject. Being at sea is like that – there is always something to do here and now.

  Once lights were out, Ben and Badger chatted for a while across their cabin, as they often did just before they dropped off to sleep. They had fifty miles or so of sea to cross the next day, and they were wondering what the waves would be like. The islands of the Caribbean can be windy, with the Trade Winds that blow right across the Atlantic from Africa. Those winds were blowing that night, and even in their cabin, well below deck, the boys could hear the sound of the wind in the rigging. Both were pleased that they were safely in their hammocks rather than up on deck on such a night.

  “Quicksand,” muttered Ben. “What would you do if you trod in quicksand, Badger?”

  Badger did not reply immediately. Then a sleepy voice came from the other side of the cabin. “I’d try not to move. I think that if you struggle, it only makes it worse.”

  Ben thought about this. “You’d have to hope somebody would find you,” he said.

  “Yes,” came the drowsy reply. “You’d have to …”

  But there was nothing more. Badger had gone to sleep.

  Ben smiled to himself. He did not mind if his friend went to sleep when he was talking to him. Perhaps it meant that he agreed with him …

  The next morning at five, just when the first glimmers of light were appearing in the east but the sky directly above was still in darkness, the bell at the end of the passageway on each deck was given a resounding ring by Mr Rigger.

  “Up, up up!” he shouted. “Everybody up! Weighing anchor in one hour, ladies and gentlemen!’

  Everyone knew that when Mr Rigger used the words ladies and gentlemen he meant business, and you had to snap to. You had to get out of your hammock the moment you heard him and run, not walk, to the shower. You wouldn’t have more than ten minutes to wash and get your clothes on before rushing to the mess for breakfast. After that, it was back down below to clean your teeth and check your lifejacket was at hand before making your way up on deck to report for duty.

  Nobody minded the rush that day, of course, as they remembered this was the day they were due to sail from Antigua to an island to the south. They had been told the name of this island, but everybody seemed to have trouble pronouncing it.

  “What’s this place called again?” Tanya asked Poppy. “G … something or other. I really don’t know how to say it – do you?”

  Poppy had been practising. “This is how you say it: GWAR DE LOOP. You spell it GUADELOUPE, but you say it the way I’ve just said.”

  “GWAR DE LOOOP,” said Tanya, struggling to get her mouth round the strange sounds.

  “They speak French there,” said Poppy. “So if we go ashore …”

  “Which we will be doing,” said Fee. “I heard the Captain saying we’d be able to.”

  “Well, when we do,” said Poppy, “there’ll be really nice bread and cakes because that’s what you find wherever you hear French being spoken.”

  There were other things to look forward to.

  “We’re going to be anchoring near a place called Pigeon Island,” Badger told Ben. “That’s just off Guadeloupe, and it’s a fantastic place for snorkelling.”

  “I can try out my new snorkel,” said Ben.

  “And I can use my new flippers,” said Badger.

  When the time came to weigh anchor, there wasn’t a single person who did not feel the excitement. Even the ship seemed keen to start the journey, her sails filling with wind the moment they were unfurled. As they set off, the Tobermory’s bow throwing off white waves of sparkling water, all eyes were fixed on the horizon ahead. But their destination was still too far away to be seen, though they could make out, just visible in the distance, the island of Montserrat, with its great volcano reaching up into the clouds.

  There was a lot to do. The sails had to be kept well-trimmed, set in just such a way as to make the best of the wind, and the deck had to be kept clear of ropes. These were neatly wound, ready for use but out of the way of people’s feet. Then there were the normal tasks of keeping the ship in good order, the scrubbing and polishing and repairing that never seemed to stop.

  They took it in turns to climb up to the crow’s nest to keep a look-out for land, and it was Mike’s good luck to be up there with Badger when they caught sight of Guadeloupe. At first it was not much more than a dark smudge, and Mike had to rub his eyes to make sure he was not imagining it.

  “Is that it?” he asked Badger.

  Badger had a small pair of binoculars, and he used these to look in the direction that Mike was pointing in.

  “Yes, that’s it,” he said. “You saw it first. You call out.”

  “What do I say?” asked Mike.

  Badger told him, and so Mike, cupping his hands to his mouth, shouted at the top of his lungs, “Land ahoy!”

  That was the signal for people down below to rush to the bow to see if they could spot land. It was now time for Mike and Badger to climb back down to the deck, to allow others their turn in the crow’s nest. As it happened, next in line were Geoffrey Shark and Maximilian Flubber. As they passed on the rope ladder, Shark sneered at Mike.

  “Ignore him,” whispered Badger.

  “I’m trying,” Mike whispered back. “But it’s really hard. I’d like to give him a good push.”

  “No,” said Badger. “That would only make it worse.”

  Back on deck, they went to chat to Thomas Seagrape, who was tidying up some ropes at
the bottom of the mast. As they were talking to Thomas, they heard a shout from the crow’s nest.

  “It’s a ship!” cried Geoffrey Shark from above. “That last call was a false alarm! It’s a ship.”

  Badger caught his breath. “It looked like an island,” he said. “I was sure it was Guadeloupe.”

  Mike looked down at the deck. “I was too,” he muttered. He hated the thought that he had misled everybody, including the Captain.

  Then somebody from the bow shouted out, “Yes, it’s a ship. Look over there. It’s just a large ship.”

  Now it was obvious that Mike had been wrong, as the shape of a ship could be made out quite clearly, steaming off towards Antigua.

  “I’m going to go and apologise to the Captain,” said Mike.

  Badger said that he would apologise too. “I looked through my binoculars,” he said. “I got it wrong too.”

  The Captain, who was at the helm, did not mind at all. “It’s very easy to make that mistake,” he said. “But perhaps next time you should just wait a few minutes until you’re absolutely sure.”

  It was a gentle reproof, and Mike felt himself blushing with embarrassment as he walked away. And it did not help when he heard a voice behind him say, “You need to get your eyes tested, you know. Maybe a pair of glasses will help.”

  Mike turned round. It was William Edward Hardtack.

  “It looked like land,” he said. “It really did.”

  Hardtack laughed. “Here’s a guy who can’t tell the difference between land and a ship,” he sneered. “Well, here’s something to help you remember. A ship moves, land doesn’t. That’s one difference. And here’s another: a ship has a funnel coming out the top, or sails. Land doesn’t. There – get it? Will that help you tell the difference in future?”

  “Don’t say anything,” whispered Badger.

  But his advice was too late. Goaded by these snide comments from Hardtack, Mike swung his fist and punched his tormentor right on the nose. Hardtack reeled back, clutching at his nose with both hands.

  The Captain saw this. “You there!” he roared. “Stop that immediately and come over here.”

  Mike made his way to stand in front of the Captain.

  “Now you listen to me, young man,” said the Captain, his voice raised in anger. “I will not have any violence on my ship. Understand?”

  Badger spoke up in his friend’s defence. “Hardtack started it, sir. I heard him.”

  “You keep out of it, MacTavish, B.,” snapped the Captain. And then, to Mike, he said, “Go to your cabin and stay there until I call for you. Understand?”

  Looking the picture of misery, Mike nodded and went off. In the meantime, the Captain had summoned Hardtack over to his side and was examining the boy’s nose.

  “What did you say to him?” the Captain asked. “He said you started it.”

  Hardtack’s jaw dropped. “But Captain, that’s a lie,” he protested. “I just said he was really good at climbing rope ladders. I was trying to be friendly.”

  The Captain looked at him. It was a severe look that seemed to say, I don’t believe that for one moment. “I’m watching you, Hardtack,” he said. “Just remember that.”

  An hour or so later, when the Captain had handed the wheel over to Mr Rigger, Badger was sent to bring Mike to the Captain’s cabin. Once there, both boys were told to stand in front of the big oak desk.

  “I’m very disappointed in you,” the Captain said to Mike. He paused. “I’m prepared to believe that Hardtack asked for it, but whatever he said to you is no excuse for hitting him. Do you understand?”

  “Sorry, sir,” said Mike. “And yes, I understand.”

  The Captain turned to Badger. “And you, Tomkins, you should have stopped it before it started. You’re meant to be showing this young man a good example.”

  Badger hung his head. He wished he had managed to stop the fight, but it had started so quickly he was not sure that he would have been able to do anything.

  The Captain shook his head. “You know that I can’t let fighting go unpunished,” he said. “So you’ll both get one hour cleaning the heads. And you can do it while everyone else goes snorkelling at Pigeon Island. Do you understand?”

  Badger nodded miserably. He had been looking forward to swimming among the clear blue water, and now he wouldn’t be going.

  “Dismissed,” said the Captain, signalling for them to leave.

  Outside, Mike said to Badger, “I’m really, really sorry I did that, Badger.”

  Badger shrugged. “Well, at least the Captain knew we were telling the truth. You could see that.”

  “Could you?” asked Mike.

  “Yes,” said Badger. “One hour of cleaning the heads is the very lightest punishment he could have given us. He knows what Hardtack’s like, you see, but you went and punched him and that put you – put us both, I suppose – in the wrong…”

  “I’m sorry,” said Mike. “I really am, Badger.”

  Badger smiled bravely. “Well, no use crying over spilt milk – what’s done is done.” He sighed. “Well, at least I can show you how we clean the heads. We may as well get everything ready.”

  Bert Thorn makes an appearance

  The crossing had gone more quickly than expected, as the winds had been strong. Of course, that meant that the waves were very large, but the Tobermory was used to rough seas and took them in her stride. Once they reached the island, though, the sea calmed down, and they sailed down the coast of Guadeloupe with scarcely a pitch or a roll.

  Pigeon Island was a tiny island a short distance off the mainland. The sea bed around it was a sunken forest of coral, with thick columns rising up like tree trunks. All through the coral swam shoals of brightly coloured fish, hiding behind fronds of seaweed or darting out to catch some food. It was a paradise for divers and snorkellers, and after the Tobermory had anchored just about everybody changed into swimming costumes, donned masks and slipped into the clear blue water. Everybody except Mr Rigger, who stayed to look after the ship, Cook, who did not like swimming, and Badger and Mike, who had their unpleasant cleaning task to do.

  Mr Rigger looked as if he knew how they felt. “I’m sorry to hear what happened,” he said, lowering his voice. “There’s no excuse for punching somebody, but … well, let me put it this way – if I ever felt like punching anybody, then it would be …” He did not finish the sentence, but Badger and Mike knew exactly who he meant.

  “Hardtack started it, Mr Rigger,” said Badger.

  Mr Rigger nodded. “One of these days he’ll get what he deserves.” He was about to say something else, but stopped himself.

  A few minutes later, as they were busy filling buckets with water, Cook popped his head round the door of the boys’ heads. “I heard you had a bit of trouble with a certain party,” he said.

  A certain party: this was a way of talking about Hardtack that made Badger smile. “I’m afraid so,” said Badger, and then added, “That’s why we’re here and not out there snorkelling.”

  Cook shook his head. “It’s a bad business when somebody who richly deserved a punch is out there swimming and the person who gave it to him is on board cleaning the heads.” He shook his head again as he reached into a bag. “Still, I thought you might like some special doughnuts I made for you. Extra jam. Really delicious.”

  Cook extracted a large doughnut from the bag and handed it to Mike. Then he took out another and passed it to Badger.

  The two boys laid aside their mops.

  “Thank you, Cook,” said Badger. “They look terrific.”

  “Don’t go punching anybody else, mind,” warned Cook. “We can’t have punching on this ship … no matter how much it’s deserved.” He leaned forward and whispered to Mike, “Tell me, young fellow, where did your fist collide with young Hardtack? Not that I’m saying you should have done it – oh, no, I’m not saying that – but where exactly did he get it?”

  “On the nose,” said Mike.

  “Hah!??
? said Cook. “Very good! What a good place for somebody like that to be punched, not that I’m saying you should ever punch anybody – I’m not saying that. No, definitely not. Very bad. Very, very bad.”

  Cook went off chuckling, leaving the two boys to finish their doughnuts.

  “That was good of Cook,” said Mike, as he licked the last crumbs off his fingertips.

  It was some hours before the others returned to the Tobermory. Alone on the deck, Badger and Mike watched morosely as the boats tied up at the bottom of the ship’s ladder. They listened as people chatted excitedly about what they had seen, and tried not to look disappointed.

  “Don’t worry,” said Badger. “There’ll be plenty of chances to go snorkelling later on.”

  “I feel as if I’ve made a really bad start,” said Mike. “More or less on my first day I go and punch somebody on the nose!”

  Badger tried to comfort him. “Everybody gets into trouble now and then,” he said. “I’m sure you won’t be up in front of the Captain again for a long time.”

  “I hope not,” said Mike.

  Later that evening, the two boys had the chance to hear from the others about what they had seen on the reef. Even the nervous Angela Singh had enjoyed snorkelling and was sure she had seen a shark. But Poppy, who had been swimming next to her at the time, said that Angela was wrong and that her mask had simply distorted her vision and what she had seen was simply a long grey fish.

  Because most people were tired after the journey from Antigua and the snorkelling expedition, dinner was served early. Afterwards they returned to their cabins for an evening of reading, writing postcards, or the simple mending tasks that sailors always seem to have to do: sewing rents in clothing, re-threading laces in deck shoes, or repairing the straps on life-jackets.

  In their cabin, Ben told Badger about some of the sea creatures he had seen.

  “There was a moray eel,” he said. “I saw it looking at me from its hole in the rock.”

  Badger whistled. “You’ve got to be careful of those things,” he said. “They have razor-sharp teeth, and if they get hold of you they don’t let go. They can drown you if you’re not careful.”