Chapter 15

“Do you remember what I said about the Chinese space station?” Ju-Long asked. It took Beck a moment to remember, but then he laughed.

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

They were back at the beach, gazing at the results of Ju-Long and Jian’s handiwork. This was where they would be spending their nights.

The undergrowth that covered the island came down to the top of the beach, and a tree right on the edge had stuck a pair of thick branches out across the gravel, side by side and almost horizontal, about a metre off the ground. With Jian passing her things one-handedly, Ju-Long had used the section of the fishing boat and other bits of wood to build a platform, laid across the two branches and tied in place with more lengths from the rope net.

Then she had taken the four longest poles they could find and jammed them into the beach, so that they stuck up above the platform, one at each corner. She had tied crosspieces to the tops of each one, using the same sort of diagonal lashing that Beck had used on the beacon, so that there was a square frame above the platform. Then she had tied the last few of the long pieces of wood at spaces across the frame to make rafters.

Meanwhile Jian had cut palm fronds which she could lay over the rafters, overlapping, like Beck’s protective layer on the beacon, but on a larger scale. Jian had also arranged more fronds on the platform itself, as a very basic kind of futon to make sleeping there slightly more comfortable, and he had arranged some cut-off branches along the seaward side of the platform to make a primitive windbreak.

They would only spend time on the platform when they slept, so they would be lying down. The windbreak would keep the breeze from the sea off their bodies. It might only make a difference of a degree or so, but even in these subtropical seas, that difference could be vital. Beck had suggested one other way to keep warm up on the platform: to build a fire on the gravel, directly beneath their camp. The other two had looked at each other, concerned, but Beck had reassured them that it would work.

Beck suspected that all this exercise had taken more out of Jian than he was prepared to admit. He was definitely cradling his hurt arm, though it was still supported by its sling, and his skin had an unhealthy pallor to it.

“Yup,” Beck agreed with a straight face, “that is definitely the next best thing to a space station. If it was at a slightly higher orbit – like, several hundred kilometres above the earth – then I don’t think I could tell them apart.”

Jian was looking baffled.

“Space station?”

“When we were going down the river gorge,” Ju-Long explained, “Beck and I built a raft from bamboo poles. I felt as proud of that as I do that China has built a space station.”

“Tiangong-1,” Jian agreed with a proud nod. “I see.” He held his good arm out. “Well, if your raft was Tiangong-2, welcome to Tiangong-3!” he announced. His smile seemed force but Beck was sure the intent was genuine, and he was glad. Jian would continually have to pull himself up to being his old self, and Beck admired his positivity and courage.

“Congratulations on being the first Young Pioneers in space,” Beck laughed. “Let’s celebrate with a drink.”

He picked three of the bottles from the water bank and carefully removed the dangling lengths of rope before handing them out one at a time, to Ju-Long and Jian. He took the last one himself and raised it in a toast, with a wry smile.

“To China.”

He put the bottle to his lips. Even though his body wanted him to tilt it back and glug it all down in one go, he went more slowly. He let a little into his mouth and swilled it around, feeling it coat his tongue and the back of his throat. Then he gargled a little, and moistened his lips. And only then did he swallow it. His eyes closed, savouring the feeling.

“Like gold, isn’t it?” The other two nodded, then raised their bottles and together they drank.

As Beck slowly drained his bottle his thoughts were moving on to the next job. Protection, rescue, water – they had now ticked three of the four essentials off the to-do-list. The fourth was easier done in the daylight. He checked his watch, even though he could already see the sun heading for the horizon. They only had about an hour of daylight left.

Ju-Long took the bottles back to their filling station at the foot of the cliff and re-inserted the dripping rope strands.

Meanwhile, Beck was picking his way through the unused pieces of wood. There was a carved round piece about the width of a broom handle– straight and about as long as his arm. He hefted it in his hand experimentally. It had a good weight to it – not too heavy, but strong enough to carry the force of any thrust that he made. It wouldn’t bend too much under force.

“Okay.” he said. He looked first at Ju-Long, then at Jian. Jian so badly wanted to be doing something useful – something that he could safely do with one hand and which wouldn’t wear him out. “Jian, how do you fancy taking the first shift at the signal beacon?”

Jian smiled happily by way of answer. It was something useful that he could do without pain.

“And Ju-Long – we’re going to need some sort of a shelter up there, so we don’t get burnt up by the sun. Maybe not this evening, but certainly tomorrow.”

“We can make one,” she said diplomatically, and Jian lowered his eyes. They all knew it would be more accurate to say that she could build one, with Jian’s assistance. She picked through the wood and held up a couple of pieces. “These as supports, and some of the net as a roof, covered with leaves.”

“Perfect. Look out for the dragons – take a good stick with you. And then, we’ll need a fire to cook our dinner, back here at camp.”

“But we don’t yet have any dinner to cook,” she pointed out.

“Nope.” Beck grinned and hefted the piece of wood. “That’s my job.”

Protection, rescue, water… and food.