Tromelin Island

It was like a scene from a movie.

Waives of azure water broke against a reef that sheltered a beach of white, powdered sand. A cluster of palm trees waved in the breeze. Some low bushes covered most of the island.

“It is going to be tricky to steer the boat past that reef,” William warned. “According to the satellite map we have the best chance on the south side.”

He deftly steered our boat to the left. I noticed a gap where the sea flowed deeper towards the shore. The swell was high, and I could feel a strong current tugging at our keel.

“It may be calmer at low tide,” my clever dog said, “but then the water might be too low for the boat to make it over the reef. We just have to time it right.”

For two land rats we did not fare too poorly. We waited for a wave and surfed neatly through the gap in the reef. At the other side the water was calm. I peered over the side of our boat and saw a myriad of colourful fish flitting about.

“William, look, how pretty!” I called.

“Yes, yes,” he answered as if he was already bored by our exotic surroundings. “I prefer the couch in our living room any day. One can watch the fish on the National Geographic channel. But there are a couple of snorkels and some flippers on the boat, so if you feel you have to, you can go and bore yourself and see what fish are up to all day long. Don’t expect much.”

“Don’t worry, old boy,” I smiled. “I wouldn’t swap you for a goldfish – dogs make better pets, I know.”

He scowled at me.

A swim would be nice. As soon as the boat had stopped moving, the heat of the sun had started frying me slowly in my shirt. It was a good thing William had nagged me into bringing a hat along.

“We have to anchor here anyway and swim to the shore,” William said. “The outboard motors will get stuck on the bottom at low tide if we go any further.”

We stacked William’s backpack and some extra water in my bag and jumped overboard. It was not easy swimming with my bag on my head.

“Take care that Teddy stays dry!” William ordered me as he plodded through the water ahead of me, unburdened.

“Wait for me!” I complained and swallowed a mouthful of seawater.

“I am just checking for sharks,” he innocently said over his shoulder.

“Sharks?” I asked and swam a bit faster. “Are there sharks around here?”

“Bound to be. They live in the sea, you know, and this is most definitely the sea. You should watch National Geographic – highly educational. The reef might keep them out, but if we can get through that gap, perhaps they can too.”

Before I knew it, I was standing on the beach.

William shook the water from his fur and grinned.

I stowed the bag in the shade of the palm trees and glanced around me. The sun reflected on the bright blue ocean and high above our heads a couple of white tropicbirds were trailing their spectacular tails across the sky. The powdery sand between my toes was hot. I saw some very pretty shells, and some way up the beach there were a few large, round boulders.

Suddenly one of them moved.

“What on earth is that?” I exclaimed.

The boulder stretched its long neck to stare at us with wise, old eyes. I approached cautiously. It was the largest turtle I had ever seen!

“This guy must be more than a hundred years old,” William said. “These days they are protected, but in the olden days they were the favourite take-away food for passing ships.”

“Yuk! They don’t look tasty at all!”

The old turtle appeared to nod his head in agreement.

“The biggest challenge here is fresh water,” William warned. “We have enough for two days, maybe more. We can’t stay longer than that.”

We started to explore right away. William tried to use one of the turtles as a steed, but it spitefully pulled its head into its shell and refused to budge. The sun beat down on us without mercy. In my imag­ination I could see La Buse and his men arriving at these shores. Their ship must have anchored behind the reef, and they must have used rowing boats to come ashore.

They probably were a rough-looking bunch, with scarves holding back their salty locks (very much like the one tied around William’s floppy ears) and clothes splattered with the blood of their latest victims. In my mind’s eye I could see them dragging a heavy chest of treasure across the beach under the stern supervision of their merciless captain. A few of them dug a hole, perhaps over there, next to the rocks, and they buried the treasure.

I got goosebumps when I remembered the rumour that La Buse had murdered every one of them afterwards to keep the location of the treasure secret.

My toe bumped against something. I picked it up and shook it to clear the sand. Then I realised what I had in my hand, and I dropped it with a yell.

It was a human skull!