“Because of the crocodiles,” Badger chipped in.
“Hold on,” said Mr Rigger. “Will somebody please start from the beginning?” He turned to Poppy and she began to recite the full story, incident by incident. And as she did so, Mr Rigger and Miss Worsfold began to understand that nobody had been at fault and that, in fact, everybody had behaved in exactly the way they should have.
“You did very well,” said Mr Rigger at the end. “And now I suggest we get back to the Tobermory. We’ve lost enough time as it is.”
This meant it was time to say goodbye to Will, which was hard for them all, as he had become a good friend in the short time they had known him. And they knew, too, that if he had not been with them when they met the crocodiles, everything could have turned out very differently. It was Will, after all, who had acted quickly and told them to run for the trees. And it was Will who had then led them to the safety of his village
“I hope we meet again sometime,” said Badger, as he shook Will’s hand.
“I do too,” said Will. “You never know, do you?” He too was sorry to see his new friends go and said that he hoped they would call in if they ever sailed that way again. Then they climbed into the liberty boat and began to row back to the Tobermory, with Henry standing up at the prow of the boat, sniffing the air and barking as loudly as he could to let everybody on the ship know that all was well.
Once back on board, Ben, Fee, Poppy and Badger were all summoned to the Great Cabin, where the whole story was told once again. Captain Macbeth listened intently and then, just as Mr Rigger had done, he congratulated them all on keeping a cool head and doing the right thing.
“It’s Henry who deserves congratulations,” said Badger. “He’s the real hero for leading those crocodiles away from the trees.”
Captain Macbeth leaned down to pat Henry on the head. “I think you deserve some treats, Henry,” he said.
Henry wagged his tail. He recognised a few words, but he certainly knew what ‘treats’ meant. The Captain reached into the drawer of his desk, where he kept a packet of Good Dog Extra Meaty Treats. Taking a handful of these from the bag, he tossed them towards Henry, who leapt up in the air to catch them in his mouth. Everybody clapped.
Badger was right: Henry had been a hero and had he not done what he had done, then … It was too awful to think about what might have happened, so nobody said anything more about it. They were all back on board the Tobermory none the worse for their experiences, and that was what counted.
That evening the Captain addressed the whole school in the mess hall after dinner.
“We shall set sail in an hour,” he said, “and try to make up for lost time.” He paused. “Are there any questions?”
For a minute or two nobody said anything. Then a hand went up. It was Bartholomew Fitzhardy. “Are we still in the race, Captain?”
Captain Macbeth answered without hesitation. “Of course we are, Fitzhardy,” he said.
There was a murmur of dissent from the table occupied by Hardtack and his friends.
“But, sir,” said Hardtack, “we’ve lost so much time. What point is there going on when the other boats will be miles ahead of us?”
“Yes,” echoed Geoffrey Shark. “What’s the point?”
Badger turned round in his chair and glared at Shark. “We don’t have to win, Shark,” he said. “We stopped because we had to. That’s the law of the sea: you have to help people in trouble.” He paused. “Even if it means losing a race.”
Hardtack did not like this at all. “Speak for yourself, Striped One,” he hissed, using one of his favourite nicknames for Badger. “Not everybody’s a loser like you.”
Mr Rigger, who had overheard this, clapped his hands sharply. “No arguing, please,” he shouted. “Any other questions for the Captain?”
When there were none, Mr Rigger announced who would be on the various watches through the night. Ben and Badger were on a watch that would start in the small hours of the morning. Poppy and Fee were on the watch that ended at dawn. This was a popular one, as the people on that watch were allowed to lie in late and have breakfast any time they wanted.
Shortly after, with a great clanking and creaking, the Tobermory’s anchor was raised and they set sail in the darkness. From the ship, the coast was just a dark shape, devoid of detail. Fee watched it as it slipped past, thinking about how somewhere in those shadows were the crocodiles that had nearly eaten them. She felt grateful that she was still alive and not in the dark cavern of a crocodile’s stomach. This was proving to be an eventful voyage – and a perilous one too. She wondered what further dangers they might still face, but could not think of any. That is the trouble with danger, she thought: it is often completely unexpected . . .
The following morning, when the Tobermory was well out to sea, news came through of the other ships in the race. It was Mr Rigger who received it first, listening in on the radio, and he lost no time in passing it on to the Captain. The Captain told Matron, and Matron told Miss Worsfold, who in turn told Poppy, who told Fee, who told … and so it passed around the ship until, within minutes, everybody knew but despite having lost time, they still had a fighting chance to win.
Up on deck, Badger and Thomas were on helm duty with Amalia, a girl who had joined the ship for this voyage. Amalia went to school in Russia, but had come to spend a term on the Tobermory. Badger had been teaching her about steering and how to keep the ship at just the right angle to the wind so the sails worked as efficiently as possible. It was part of the Tobermory’s tradition that the more experienced sailors helped those with less experience.
Mr Rigger came up from below deck to check on them.
“We’re still in the race,” he said, “so see if you can get a few extra knots out of her.” Speed on a ship is measured in knots, so a few extra knots could make all the difference as they sailed in the direction of Kangaroo Cliff.
Badger explained to Amalia how the sails would be adjusted, then Thomas called out the instructions to the members of the crew who were tugging on the various ropes that would bring the sails into the right trim.
“I think we’re going a little faster,” said Amalia. “I can feel it.”
Earlier on, classes had been suspended since the Tobermory was in a race. Now, because the race was taking longer than expected, some classes had started again. Poppy and Fee were both in a biology class being held by Miss Hedges, a popular teacher who taught general science. Miss Hedges had been explaining how green leaves trap carbon dioxide and release oxygen, and Poppy was writing this down in her notebook when she noticed Amanda Birtwhistle staring at her from the other side of the classroom. At first she tried to ignore her. Ever since the incident with the giant clam, when Amanda had lied to get herself out of trouble, the two girls had not spoken to one another. Now, Amanda was looking at Poppy in a way that she found quite disconcerting.
“Amanda’s staring at me,” Poppy whispered to Fee. “Look over there. See? She’s staring.”
Fee glanced over towards Amanda. “Yes,” she whispered back to Poppy. “It’s creepy, isn’t it?”
“She’s trying to make me feel bad,” said Poppy, “but she’s the one who should feel bad. She’s the one who lied.”
At the end of the class, Poppy waited until Amanda had gone before she herself left the classroom with Fee. There was no sign of Amanda up on deck, and Poppy did not think much more about the matter. If Amanda wanted to ignore her, there was nothing she could do about it. Poppy had plenty of friends, and it would not be the end of the world if Amanda chose not to speak to her. At the same time, of course, nobody likes it if there is a feeling of hostility in the air, and Poppy was no exception.
Then something unexpected happened. Every student on the Tobermory had a pigeon-hole where mail or messages could be left and where teachers could return exercise books after they had been corrected.
Poppy went to her pigeon-hole that afternoon to see if there was anything for her. There was an essay s
he had written for Miss Worsfold, corrected in the red pen that the teacher always used, and there was a note from Matron reminding her that she should collect a fresh bottle of sun-cream that everybody was obliged to use when the Tobermory was in hot climates. But there was something else – an envelope with her name written on it and, inside, a single page of notepaper. On the notepaper was written the simple message: I’m sorry. There was no signature and no other means of telling who had written it.
Poppy was perplexed. Later that afternoon, when they were off duty and had free time to sit on deck to read or to practise their knots for the knot-tying test that was coming up in a few days’ time, Poppy found herself sitting up near the bow of the ship with Badger, Ben and Fee. It was a favourite place for the friends to sit, as there was always a fresh breeze there, accompanied by the swishing sound made as the Tobermory’s bow made its way through the water.
Poppy showed her friends the mysterious note.
“Who’s sorry about what?” asked Badger, handing the note back after he had examined it.
Poppy explained that she had no idea.
“Perhaps it’s a mistake,” suggested Fee. “Perhaps somebody put it in the wrong pigeon-hole.”
Poppy shook her head. “No. There was an envelope,” she said. “It had my name written on it.”
Ben looked thoughtful. “What about the handwriting?” he asked.
They all turned to look at him. “What about it?” asked Poppy.
“Perhaps somebody will recognise it,” he said. “After all, everybody’s writing is different, isn’t it? Even if the differences are small – the way you dot an ‘i’ or cross a ‘t’, you can still tell.” He paused for this to sink in before continuing. “I can always tell if something’s been written by Fee. She always puts a bit of a squiggle at the end of every ‘w’. Don’t ask me why she does it, but she does.”
Fee defended herself. “My writing’s neater than yours,” she said.
“I wasn’t criticising you,” protested Ben. “I was just saying that that’s the way you write.”
“There’s no need to argue,” Poppy interjected. “I think that Ben’s on to something. If we can find out whose writing it is …” She stopped. It had suddenly occurred to her that there was an easier way to find out who had written the note, and that was to think of who might have a reason to say sorry to her. And there was only one answer to that.
“Do you have an idea?” asked Fee.
“Yes,” said Poppy. “Amanda Birtwhistle. I should have thought of her before.”
They all knew the story of the clam incident. Of course Poppy was right: Amanda had every reason to apologise to Poppy, and this must be her way of doing it.
“But why doesn’t she just come to you and say sorry?” asked Badger. “If she’s sorry, then why not say sorry – like any normal person?”
Poppy thought for a moment. “Shame,” she said. “She feels ashamed.”
“You mean scared?” Badger said.
Poppy shook her head. “No, there’s a difference between feeling ashamed and feeling scared.”
Fee knew exactly what Poppy was talking about. “I remember once when I was really mean to somebody, I felt bad about it afterwards, but I couldn’t say sorry because I was too ashamed of myself.”
Ben agreed. “Same here,” he said. “Maybe it’s because it seems somehow to make it worse for yourself. You feel bad because of what you’ve done and you think you’ll feel even more awful if you say sorry. So you …” He shrugged his shoulders. “So you don’t do anything and just hope it’ll all go away.”
Poppy looked at the note once more. “What do you think I should do?” she asked
“Speak to her,” said Ben. “Ask her: ‘Did you write this note?’ ”
Poppy seemed unsure. “But she may not have written it,” she said. “And if she didn’t, I’d look really stupid.”
Badger thought that if that was the way Poppy felt, then it would be best to be certain that it was Amanda who had written the note before saying anything. “Once you’re sure,” he said, “you can go and tell her that if she feels sorry, then she should say so to you – not leave anonymous notes in your pigeon-hole.”
Poppy thought about this. She was beginning to feel sorry for Amanda; it must be hard to feel so bad about what you’ve done yet not to be able to face up to apologising for it. If she found out that it was definitely Amanda who had written the note, perhaps instead of confronting her about it she should just go and tell her that it didn’t matter. She thought for a moment, and then said to herself, No, why should I? If she can’t say sorry to my face, why should I say anything to her?
But a voice within her said, Really? Are you sure? And so she thought again, and decided she had a choice.
“What are you thinking, Poppy?” Fee asked.
Poppy opened her eyes. “Nothing,” she replied.
This is the answer, of course, that people always sgive when they really are thinking about something but do not want to say what it is.
Poppy now asked Fee a question. “Who sits next to Amanda in class?”
Fee hesitated. “I’m not sure … Wait a minute, it’s Amalia, I think.”
“So she would know what Amanda’s handwriting is like?”
Fee nodded. “I’m sure she would.”
Poppy handed Fee the note. “You know Amalia quite well, don’t you?”
“Yes,” answered Fee.
“Could you show her this note and see if she recognises the writing?”
Fee took the note and tucked it into her pocket. A short while later, as they were going into mess hall for dinner, she saw Amalia and showed it to her.
“Whose writing is this?” Fee asked.
Amalia answered straight away. “It’s Amanda’s,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“To solve a mystery,” answered Fee.
The next day, Mr Rigger received a warning on the radio that a major storm was approaching. Although the forecast could not say exactly when it would arrive, it was clear that the Tobermory would be right in its path. When he heard this, the Captain looked carefully at the charts and consulted Mr Rigger. They were standing near the helm with Thomas Seagrape, who was on helming duty at the time.
“Well, Seagrape,” said the Captain, “what would you do if a storm were approaching?”
Thomas had been brought up in the Caribbean and knew all about storms. “I’d look for shelter, sir, if I were close enough to land.”
The Captain nodded his approval. “And if you were too far out?” he asked. “What then?”
Again, Thomas knew exactly what to do. “I’d get most of the sails in, Captain,” he said, “then I’d leave just a very small amount of sail to keep us steady.”
“Well done,” said the Captain. “What do you say, Mr Rigger?”
“I’d say that this boy knows his sailing,” said Mr Rigger, with a smile.
The Captain pointed to the shore. It was not too far away, and so it would easily be possible to reach it before the storm hit. “It won’t take us more than an hour to reach shore,” he said. “And according to this chart there’s a bay there that’ll give us shelter from the north-east, which is where the wind’s going to come from.”
The Captain showed Thomas a place marked on the chart called Fig Tree Bay. “Steer for this place, Seagrape,” he said.
In less than an hour, the Tobermory nosed her way between two headlands into a wide, deserted bay. The Captain was now at the helm, and all along one side of the ship a class on how to sound depths was being conducted by Mr Rigger. Each person had a long line, with a lump of lead tied to the end. This line was knotted at various points to mark the fathoms – the units of length used to measure the depth of water – and this made it possible to tell just how much water there was beneath the ship. As the line played out, they could feel the weight of the lead, but when it reached the bottom, it slackened. That gave the depth of the water at that point, which is something you
really need to know on board a ship. The last thing any sailor wants is to run aground, and the navigator always has to be careful not to guide the ship into water which is too shallow. Of course, the Tobermory had an electronic depth-sounder, but a good sailor has to know how to use simpler, older methods – just in case.
In twenty metres of water they let out eighty metres of chain, at the end of which the great heavy anchor dug deep into the sand on the sea-bed. Putting the ship’s engines astern, Captain Macbeth made the ship pull for a few moments against the weight of the chain and the anchor until it was clear that the Tobermory had come to a complete stop.
“That’s it,” announced Captain Macbeth. “We should be safe here when the storm hits.”
Because of the danger of sharks again, swimming was not allowed, so people had free time for the rest of the afternoon, right up until it was time for dinner.
As they went into the mess hall, Poppy found herself standing in line close to Amanda. This was her moment, and she seized it.
“Amanda,” she whispered. “I found your note.”
Amanda looked around. When she saw that nobody could overhear them, she turned to Poppy and whispered back, “I meant what I wrote.”
Poppy nodded. “That’s all right,” she said. “I was going to accept your apology.”
Amanda looked relieved. “Thanks,” she said.
But Poppy had more to say. “But that’s not enough, you know.”
Amanda frowned. “What else do you want me to say?”
Poppy was prepared. “I want you to go to the Captain and tell him you lied. I want him to know that what happened was not my fault at all.”
Amanda’s face registered shock. “I can’t,” she stuttered. “I can’t just go in there and tell him.”
“Why not?”
“Because … because …” Amanda’s voice faltered. “Then it’s no good saying you’re sorry,” said Poppy.
“It’s meaningless.”