‘You’d better ’ang on tight, Miss. Rough patch ahead!’ Jenkins pointed to a line of breakers.

Hannah groaned. She longed to be on land where nothing rocked, splashed or threatened to sink. Twenty days at sea was enough. She had spent much of the voyage, stomach churning, with her head dangling over the side of the ketch.

Now she could hear the roar as waves hit the coral reef. She glanced anxiously over her shoulder. The second rowboat carrying supplies and her luggage was still behind. Everything she owned was in that small craft; her books, paint box, every last souvenir of her mother and father.

‘Steady now, mates!’ Jenkins called.

Heart pounding in her ears, Hannah gripped the gunwale. As they entered the white water, the boat jumped sideways, rode a large wave, then dropped with a whump. Face tense with concentration, Jenkins fought the tiller. It had a life of its own and wrestled against his hands. Hannah stared at the backs of the two sailors at the oars. The muscles in their necks stood out, their forearms rigid, as they strained to keep control of the boat.

Surf thundered around them. Spray shot up into her face, and she wiped the salty water from her eyes with one sleeve. Shouts came from the sailors in the other boat. Hannah pressed her lips together, smothering a scream. Beneath that churning water was the reef, with its jagged rocks and razor-sharp coral, waiting to slice the hull open. Had she travelled all this way only to be ignominiously drowned when she was so close?

Another wave attacked the small boat, shooting it upwards and forward. Then, as suddenly as they had entered the rough water, they left it behind.

Hannah still held on, her knuckles white. It took a few seconds to realise the danger had passed. This side of the reef, hardly a ripple disturbed the surface while only a short distance behind, the sea was agitating into a temper. One by one, she unclenched her fingers then craned her neck to see the fate of the other craft. It had also passed the reef: her belongings were safe. She sighed and tried to steady her breathing.

Jenkins winked at her. ‘There she be, Miss. Your island.’

Hannah stared ahead; her first glimpse of the wild place that was her new home. As the sailors rowed closer, the palm trees grew taller. The giant trunks leant over each other like friends, waving their fronds in the air.

The whitest sand she had ever seen met the edge of the sea. She had to squint against the glare. There were thatched roofs among the trees, and thin coils of smoke rose above them. The island beach was clustered with dark figures, but where were her mysterious uncle and aunt?

As they drew close to land, Hannah longed to reboard the ketch and sail back to Australia. She dared not turn for a last glimpse. She didn’t want to be here and, judging from the cold tone of the letter sent to her parents’ lawyer, Uncle Henry was not exactly enthusiastic about having her. But where else could she go? She had no family now, except for these strangers who lived amongst cannibals.