As the earth turns away from the sun, I see a tiny light go up on the boat’s mast which makes it easier for me to follow. I pull in the jib coz I’ve caught up close enough now to keep them in sight.
I’m kinda glad I gotta keep an eye on that croc, coz worrying about him getting loose and somehow getting up in here to make me into a meal will keep me awake. It’s okay for them on the other boat, they can take it in turns to sail.
Me, alone cept for a no-good croc – it ain’t fair. I won’t be getting no sleep till we get where we’re going.
But they keep sailing on and on into the night, and my eyes is dry from staring at that little light like a star on the water.
I wake with a jump, coz I din’t mean to be asleep! Licorice is thumping, and it must be the croc trying to get over onto the deck to eat me. So I smash my arms around in the dark and leap to my feet all dreamy-brained and sleep-dizzy, trying to find my feet on the rolling dark sea. But there’s no croc up here with me. I flick on my solar torch and check the net. The croc is lying quiet and still in the net, his eyes glowing in my torchlight, but something’s still thumping the hulls. Licorice nudges over, and a huge splash sounds in the darkness.
I shine the torch in that direction. I think I see a massive tail, but it’s gone in another splash.
There’s a flash of paleness between the hulls, and the croc lifts up in the air. I swing the torch that way, and see the croc sitting on top of a big white nose, and rows and rows of white triangles. It’s a shark!
A big shark. The biggest I’ve ever seen. The croc thrashes his head and tail, frees himself from the net and flops up close against the hull. Then he lies still, like a log. I turn off the torch and duck down too. Be a log. Don’t be a tasty shark dinner. Licorice is still sailing, but I can’t see that light I was following no more. I could be sailing away in the wrong direction. I can’t get the sail down and be a log at the same time. I gotta sit tight and wait till the shark decides there’s no meal to be had here. It nudges and bumps poor Licorice for ages, while I hope it don’t decide to take a bite of hull.
Finally, it lets off with its nudging and splashing.
I leap up and drop the sail on top of the boom, and get out my spyglasses. Nowhere on the horizon is that little bobbing light. I’ve lost Jag. I’ll never find him now. I’ll never save him. A grumpy old croc is the only kind of friend someone like me deserves.
I shine the light on the croc. He’s still pretending to be a log in the corner hard up against the hull. He don’t look like he’s thinking about trying to get on deck to eat me. So I sit down and cry.
Down on the horizon, twinkling in the dark, sits the Southern Cross. I know I can turn Licorice home if I want – I jus’ need to draw a line from the top of the Southern Cross down through the bottom and out, and then another line from the middle of the two bright stars that point to the Southern Cross, and where those two lines cross is the empty night sky of the south. I draw lines in the dark with my fingers. Lines to take me home.
I can turn Licorice south now and turn inland once the sun lights the horizon. But I don’t want to give up on Jag.
So I tie down the sail and don’t go nowhere.
