I crawl out from under the sail and tiptoe down to the stern of the boat. There’s only starlight, so things is jus’ outlines, but Pirate Bradshaw is honking up a snore like a flock of geese chasing a dog. No way she’ll hear me. I climb down the ladder behind the cockpit and start working at the knot tying the fishing boat on. There’s a swish by my ear and the knot judders in my hands. There’s a knife sticking out of it!
‘What’re you doing?’ Pirate Bradshaw asks.
‘Jus’ having a pee!’ I squeak. Can she see in the dark? So then I pee, climb back up, and walk past Pirate Bradshaw sitting there, picking her teeth with another knife, making a scraping sound, prolly meant to warn me.
I lie down again next to Saleesi.
‘She got the senses of a wild cat,’ Saleesi whispers. And I gotta admit, much as I feel sorry for Saleesi stuck here with this old pirate, I’m getting a bit mad about all her warnings and not doing anything to help me.
I wait until the Southern Cross is long gone from the night sky and then try again. Pirate Bradshaw’s snoring like a goose but then she’s not, and she’s on the ladder above me. ‘You got bladder problems, kid?’ she says.
‘Maybe,’ I say coz I think there’s a chance she hasn’t guessed what I’m doing here.
‘You wake me again tonight and you won’t have no problems no more,’ she says.
‘Yes sir, Pirate Bradshaw,’ I say, and hurry back under the sail.
I sleep this time, till I’m kicked awake by Pirate Bradshaw. ‘I reckon you’ll get the deck finished today,’ she says, all cheerful. ‘Up and at ’em!’
It’s midday and a half day’s sailing in the wrong direction when we finally get the deck wood all oiled and shiny. It looks like a whole new boat from where I’m standing holding the last of the oil.
Pirate Bradshaw does an inspection, her wrinkled and cracked toes rubbing the wood looking for splinters. Finally she nods. ‘Good job. Now I got another job for you,’ she says, and heads back to where I’m standing next to the steering wheel. I know where she’s gonna step. She’s gonna step on the edge of the cockpit and down onto the seat. I got the oil in my hand and she’s busy telling Saleesi to fetch some tools, so I pour a little oil on the cockpit edge, and I pour a little oil on the seat and then I go stand next to the ladder at the stern.
Pirate Bradshaw looks up at me as she’s coming back to the cockpit. ‘Gotta pee again?’ she says, then she hits the edge of the cockpit, her foot slides, she steps heavily down onto the seat and that foot slides too. She tips, she falls, I throw the oil, scramble down the ladder and untie the fishing boat. There’s a clatter of metal and a thump of body as I pull the fishing boat closer and leap aboard.
‘Come on, Saleesi!’ I yell. But I won’t wait for her. I got one chance to get away and Saleesi ain’t helped me none. She can swim for it if she wants to leave with me.
I run flat out for the stern of the fishing boat. There’s a bunghole there for when it’s pulled out of the sea and washed clean of fish blood and such, so I stop a moment to unscrew it, and seawater gushes in. I pull Licorice in and untie her, and leap aboard, so all three boats is now separated by sea and floating apart.
Mr Croc is asleep in the net, poor thing, looking hot and miserable. I run up the hull before he even gets a few steps towards me. Then I’m back on my deck, hauling the sail and throwing the solar motor on, to get some space from that old pirate.
I’ve done it. I’m free. The fishing boat between us is low in the water, and there’s no sign of Pirate Bradshaw.
Saleesi stands on the yacht looking at me.
‘Come on!’ I yell.
Then there’s a splash, and Pirate Bradshaw is once again standing, hands on hips, dripping wet, on the net in front of me. Only a hull wall, a bit of net and a tired crocodile between us.
‘You’re an ungrateful thief,’ she says.
‘Licorice Stix is mine!’ I tell her.
The croc ain’t lunging at her like I thought he might, but he has his mouth open like he’s warning her not to make a move. Three days of no food has prolly made him weak.
I take my jar of fish in lime and coconut and throw a chunk on his nose. He snaps at it. Misses. Lets it fall right through the net to the sea. Then I take a whole handful of fish chunks, and jus’ as Pirate Bradshaw takes a few steps across the net towards me and asks, ‘Is that how you train him?’, I fling them at her. They smash into her chest and belly and drip down her front.
She gasps, and gasps again when the croc whips his tail and lunges at her. She turns to run, scrambling along the net back towards the sea. The croc lunges after her, snaps his jaws around her leg and they tumble into the sea together.
I can’t say I’m unhappy to see them go, but the sight of seeing the croc launch like that, all his back and tail muscles flexing so fast and his jaws snapping, have given me the shivers. I never saw a croc get no one before, and I’d got to thinking this one was friendly.
Saleesi’s leaning over the edge of the yacht, watching the water. She’s smiling. Jus’ quietly at first, then she laughs when the croc’s tail goes splashing past, and the water turns red.
‘Oh no!’ I say, coz I don’t want the old pirate killed, nor my croc. The croc and me have a bit of a friendship going.
‘Oh yes!’ Saleesi says, when neither woman nor croc come to the surface, and then something rises. It’s Pirate Bradshaw swimming back up. She’s killed my grumpy pal with her knife. But it’s only her hat that breaks the surface and sits there. Ain’t no head following it up for a gulp of air.
I run out on the net, lean over and lift the hat. Nothing underneath. Jus’ bubbles rising from the deep. I got a bad feeling. It’s one of those times when strange things happen to set the day crooked, like crabs in dolls’ heads, and strangers sailing out of the mist.
‘We gotta wait a while,’ Saleesi says.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘That old sea hag can hold her breath for ages. She got gills, I reckon. And she can prolly bite harder than that croc. It’ll let go. Either of us sail off and leave her here still alive, she’ll come after both of us and make us pay, specially if she has to swim for hours through shark-infested waters to do it.’ Saleesi waves to where the fishing boat is now leaning over and disappearing into the sea after the pirate and the croc.
‘I don’t have to wait,’ I say. I jump up and run back to the deck, wind the sail line around the winch, pull it tight.
‘Aren’t you gonna wait for your gator to come back?’ Saleesi asks.
‘No way,’ I say, and swing the boom.
‘Wait!’ she says. ‘Where you going?’
‘Why should I tell you?’ I ask.
‘Coz maybe I wanna come with you?’
‘You were helping her steal my boat.’
‘Nah, that old pirate? I don’t wanna help her no more than I wanna battle your croc.’
‘Yeah? Well, I ain’t waiting round to see if she’s still alive.’ I turn Licorice about.
‘Hey!’ Saleesi says. ‘I could help you! Wasn’t we getting along?’
‘You din’t help me escape once. I don’t need your help now,’ I say and sail off.
‘Then why was you drifting out here all alone on the wide sea in the first place?’ she calls.
‘I’m off to rescue a friend,’ I yell.
Saleesi sets to turning the yacht about. ‘Jus’ so happens rescuing is what I do best!’
I don’t listen to her. There’s lots of dodgy people on the risen sea, and I ain’t gonna be tricked out of Licorice, no how, no way.
