The Sands of Shark Island

by Alexander McCall Smith

  Badger remained calm. “It’s my own business what I do,” he said calmly.

  Hardtack was now right up against him. Grabbing the front of Badger’s shirt, he pulled him towards him, almost lifting him off his feet in the process. “You see, O Striped One,” he hissed, “me and the boys here definitely do not approve of people who go running off to Matron every time they trip over their own shoe-laces, do we, Geoffrey? Do we, Maxie Boy?”

  Shark shook his head, his famous shark’s fin quiff wobbling to underline his message. “We definitely don’t approve of such behaviour, Tacky. No, we don’t like it one little bit.”

  Tacky, thought Badger. What a suitable name for somebody called Hardtack. It made him sound … well, so tacky.

  Badger answered truthfully. “I went to see Matron about my ankle. Somebody pushed me after dinner.”

  Hardtack looked at him scornfully. “Oh, poor you! A sore ankle! Let’s take a look at it and see if we can help.” As he spoke, he grabbed Badger’s jacket and shook him. Badger struggled, but the bully’s grip was too firm.

  He bent down and at that moment Badger saw his chance. Using his knee, he pushed Hardtack away from him as hard as he could. Hardtack had not been expecting this and lost his balance almost immediately. “Watch out!” he shouted, as if in warning to himself, before toppling over and falling flat on his face.

  Seeing their leader go down, Shark and Flubber rushed forward to help him. This gave Ben and Badger the chance to run for the door and slam it behind them. It was then they noticed that someone had left the key in the lock. Doors are almost never locked on board a ship, but now, on impulse, Badger turned the key.

  “We can’t lock them in,” Ben said.

  Badger grinned at his friend. “Why not? They started it. And it’ll keep them from bothering anybody else for a while.”

  Ben still looked doubtful.

  “Somebody will hear them and let them out,” said Badger. “They won’t be in there for long.”

  Ignoring the sound of frantic banging on the door, the two friends returned to their cabin to get ready for lights-out. Badger grinned with pleasure as he recalled the look on Hardtack’s face as he had tumbled to the ground. Whatever had happened, Badger had been acting in self-defence, and everybody knows you are entitled to protect yourself if somebody like Hardtack attacks you.

  After lights-out, lying in their hammocks, the two boys spoke across the room to each other.

  “What do you think’s happened to them?” asked Ben.

  “Oh, they’ll be out by now,” said Badger. “Mr Rigger always checks up on the recreation room before lights out. He’ll have heard them banging on the door.”

  “Serves them right,” said Ben in a tired voice.

  Badger did not reply, as he had already dropped off to sleep. But Ben knew he would have agreed had he been awake. That’s the nice thing about having a good friend: you always know what he or she would say, even if they are fast asleep at the time and unable to say anything at all. Badger was his good friend, and he would always stand by him. I’m lucky, he thought, as he felt sleep overcome him. I’m lucky to be here on this ship, with my good friend Badger, and a voyage to the Caribbean starting the very next day. How lucky is that?

  On Captain’s parade

  The departure of a big ship from harbour always involves a lot of hustle and bustle. The next morning the Tobermory was due to sail two hours after morning muster. That muster – which is a gathering of the crew on deck – was at six o’clock, just a short time after everybody had got out of their hammocks, washed their faces and climbed into their sailing clothes. Now, standing in long lines on the well-scrubbed deck, seagulls shrieking and dipping above their heads, the whole crew stood to attention as Mr Rigger inspected their turn-out. Up and down the lines he walked, stopping occasionally to check that a buckle was fitted correctly or to pass some comment on the creases in a uniform.

  ‘Smart turn-out,” he muttered to Thomas Seagrape as he looked him up and down. “Good work, Seagrape.”

  Standing in front of Tanya, he looked closely at her belt. “Good standard, Herring,” he said. “But the belt needs a bit more polish, I think.”

  Next to Tanya was Henry, who was sitting to attention, his coat neatly brushed and his leather collar polished with brown boot-polish.

  “Good dog, Henry,” said Mr Rigger. “Very smartly turned-out,” he added, as Henry wagged his tail in appreciation.

  He moved on, and had now reached Badger and Ben, who were standing next to one another. Mr Rigger paused, looked quickly at Badger’s uniform, and then said rather sharply, “Captain’s Parade, Tomkins. Immediately after we set sail. Understand?”

  Badger swallowed hard. Captain’s Parade involved reporting to the Captain’s cabin when you had done something wrong. And it was not just any simple misdemeanour that would get you on Captain’s Parade – it had to be a serious offence.

  Mr Rigger now moved on to Ben. “Same for you, MacTavish, B.,” he said. “Captain’s Parade. Don’t be late!”

  Ben felt miserable. “What have we done?” he whispered to Badger after Mr Rigger had moved on.

  Badger was good at talking without moving his lips. “It’ll be that business with Hardtack and Co.,” he said from the side of his mouth.

  “But they started it,” protested Ben.

  “They won’t have said that,” replied Badger. “They’ll have given a very different story.’

  The inspection came to an end and they all took up their stations. Ben and Badger were on anchor duty, along with Thomas, Poppy, and Tanya.

  “What did Mr Rigger have to say?” asked Poppy. “I saw him talking to you.”

  “We’re on Captain’s Parade,” said Ben.

  Poppy made a sympathetic face. “Oh dear,” she said. “What did you do?’

  Badger answered her question. “We defended ourselves,” he said. “That’s all.’

  “Then you’ll have nothing to worry about,” said Tanya. “Captain Macbeth is always fair.”

  They did not have time to talk about it any longer, as the order had come to raise the anchor. This was supervised by Miss Worsfold, who was in charge of geography and anchoring. She told them how to switch on the large windlass that would haul up the great anchor, and then how to control the lowering of the chain into the anchor locker.

  “Watch your fingers!” she shouted. “Don’t take your eyes off the chain for a moment.”

  They were very careful. Thomas had told them of a man who worked in his mother’s boat in Jamaica, and who had let himself be distracted while bringing up the anchor one day and had caught a thumb in the windlass. “That was the last he saw of his thumb,” said Thomas. “So I’m going to be extra careful.”

  Poppy shuddered. “So am I,” she said. You have to be careful when you’re working, she thought, remembering a man on her farm, back in Australia. He was an expert in sheering sheep and had often won competitions to find the fastest sheep-shearer in the country. He was a tall man with a great black beard, and on one occasion, when he let his concentration slip, he had shaved off his own beard as well as the sheep’s fleece – all in the space of fifteen seconds. It was a new record, people said, and had never been equalled since.

  With the anchor up and stowed, they watched as the people working on the sails hauled on the halyards – the special ropes that ran the sails up the masts. Then the sheets were brought in and the sails trimmed to fit the wind. Like a dog kept back on the leash and then released, the Tobermory leapt forward, its prow cutting cleanly into the waves, the spray from its bows whipping past in a spume of white. Over on the port side the coast of Mull slipped past, while ahead of them the broad Atlantic opened up. They were on their way. Thousands of miles of empty ocean lay ahead.

  “I can’t believe it,” Ben said to Badger. “We’re on our way to the Caribbean!”

  Badger smiled. “Yes, it’s quite a thought,” he said.

  But then his smile faded. He remembere
d that they were both on Captain’s Parade, and it was now time to report down below.

  “We’d better go,” he said to Ben. “We’ll only get into more trouble if we’re late.”

  Mr Rigger was waiting for them outside the Captain’s cabin. After telling the two boys to wait outside, he knocked on the door and went in. Ben looked at Badger. He had always thought of Badger as being braver than he was, but now he thought his friend looked every bit as anxious as he himself felt.

  The door opened and Mr Rigger gestured for them to follow him back inside. There was Captain Macbeth sitting at his desk, his arms folded, looking as severe as they had ever seen him.

  “Tomkins and MacTavish, B.,” announced Mr Rigger.

  The two boys stood to attention in front of the desk, their arms straight down their sides, looking – and feeling – as uncomfortable as it is possible to be.

  “Now then,” began Captain Macbeth. “You know why you’re here, don’t you?”

  Ben looked at Badger.

  “We had a fight with Hardtack,” said Badger. “He started it, sir …”

  The Captain cut him short. “I’m not talking about what went on before,” he snapped. “I’m talking about your having locked Hardtack, Shark and Flubber in the recreation room. Did you do that or did you not?’

  Badger nodded. “Yes, sir, we did, but you see, Hardtack grabbed me and …”

  Again the Captain interrupted him. “Listen, Tomkins, what you need to know is that on board ship the most important thing is safety – you know that, don’t you? We’ve told you about it a hundred times if we’ve told you once.’

  “Yes, sir,” said Badger. “But …”

  “No buts,” said the Captain. “And locking somebody in a cabin or any other place on board ship is very, very dangerous. It’s one of the worst things you can do.” He paused. “Do you know why?”

  Now he transferred his gaze to Ben. “Well, MacTavish, maybe you know the answer to that?”

  Ben thought quickly. Why was it so dangerous to lock a door on board ship? And the answer came to him immediately. If anything happened – if the ship should start to sink or be swamped by a giant wave – anybody locked in a cabin or somewhere else would be trapped and could drown. That was the reason – and it was a very good reason too. He imagined just how terrifying it must be to be in a locked cabin, tilting at an angle, with the water rising around your ankles …

  He explained all this to the captain, who nodded his approval.

  “Exactly,” he said. “So you know how dangerous it is, and yet you boys did it. You locked those three in the recreation room and they were there until Mr Rigger heard them banging on the door later.”

  “They were locked up for a good half-hour, Captain,” said Mr Rigger, casting a disapproving glance at Badger and Ben.

  “If anything had happened during that time,” the Captain went on, “those three boys would have been in great danger.”

  For a short while they stood in silence as the Captain’s words sank in. Then Badger offered his apology. “We’re very sorry, Captain,” he said. “We didn’t think.”

  “You didn’t think,” repeated the Captain. “No, you didn’t, did you?”

  Ben decided it was time for him to say something too. “I’m sorry as well,” he said. “I know it was stupid, but we didn’t realise just how stupid it was at the time.”

  “Well, at least you have the grace to admit it,” said the Captain. He glanced at Mr Rigger. “And I dare say you boys were provoked. You know what provoked means?”

  Ben wasn’t entirely sure.

  “It means that they made you so cross you did something back to them,” said Captain Macbeth. “In other words, they asked for it.”

  Ben thought this was exactly what had happened. “Yes, sir, they provoked us.”

  Captain Macbeth now noticed the bandage on Badger’s ankle. “What happened to your foot, Tomkins?” he asked.

  Before Badger could reply, Ben gave the answer. “Geoffrey Shark pushed him,” he said.

  The Captain looked thoughtful. “It seems to me that you boys should keep out of the way of that group,” he said. “Just don’t cross them.”

  “But they’re always looking for trouble,” protested Ben.

  “Well then, one of these days they’ll probably find more trouble than they bargained for,” said the Captain. “But in the meantime just keep out of their way.”

  The Captain sighed. “I’m going to have to punish you, you know. I don’t particularly want to do it, but I can’t let a very foolish act like that go unpunished.” He paused, looking at Ben and Badger as if he felt extreme disappointment.

  “I shall take into account that you didn’t start the whole business,” he continued. “So rather than a whole week of cleaning the heads, you’re to have three days. Make a note of that, Mr Rigger.”

  Ben caught his breath. Cleaning the heads – the toilets – was the most unpleasant job on the ship and he had to do it for three whole days. It was the worst thing that had happened to him for a long, long time. And Badger felt the same. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, but Ben could tell that he was every bit as upset as he was.

  “Now, boys,” said Mr Rigger. “You’ve heard what your punishment is to be. So you may as well start. Do an hour of cleaning now and one in the evening after dinner. The same goes for tomorrow and the day after – three days, as you heard the Captain say.”

  Mr Rigger led them out of the Captain’s cabin. Once outside, he leant down and whispered to them. “All right, I’m sorry that it’s come to this. I know you were sorely provoked, and I personally don’t blame you for what you did. But the Captain’s right, you know – you can’t risk life on board a ship. So just go off and do your cleaning. It’s only for three days.”

  Ben and Badger went off to fetch the brushes, mops and buckets they would need for their task. Neither spoke. Both felt ashamed and angry: ashamed that the whole school would know of their punishment and angry that the world could be so unfair. If anybody deserved to be cleaning the heads it was Hardtack, but that, it seemed, was never likely to happen.

  It was not easy work. The floors had to be washed with seawater and scrubbed until any vestiges of dirt were removed. Then the walls had to be wiped from floor to ceiling and the taps on all the basins polished until they shone like silver. Then the toilets themselves had to be hosed down, given a good cleaning with round-headed brushes and then doused in disinfectant strong enough to make your eyes water.

  Ben and Badger only had to clean the boys’ heads, but even so it took them a full hour to complete the task. And then, just as they were preparing to pack away all the cleaning equipment, Maximilian Flubber came in.

  “Oh,” he said, pretending to be surprised to see them, even though by now the whole school had heard about the punishment. “So you’re on cleaning duty. Bad luck!”

  Badger and Ben both ignored him and continued to put the equipment away. But what happened next could not be ignored, for Flubber, suddenly making a retching sound, shouted out. “Oh my goodness, I’m going to be sick! Oh no, how awful! Sea-sickness! My poor stomach!”

  And with that, he brought up his half-digested breakfast all over the floor Ben and Badger had so painstakingly cleaned.

  The two boys watched in horror. It would have been perfectly possible for Flubber to reach one of the toilet bowls or even one of the basins and be sick there. That would have been much easier to deal with. But no, he simply brought it up all over the floor.

  “So sorry,” said Flubber, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I hope you don’t mind too much cleaning it all up.”

  From just outside they heard laughter, and saw Geoffery Shark and William Edward Hardtack peering round the half-open door.

  “Feeling better, Max?” asked Shark. “Far better to get it out of the system, you know!”

  “Much better, thanks, Geoff,” replied. “Pretty nasty stuff, though, sick. Still, the cleaners are still on duty, so
they’ll take care of everything.”

  And with that, Flubber left the heads and joined his two sniggering friends in the corridor. Ben looked at Badger in despair. “Do we have to?” he asked.

  Badger nodded. “I suppose we do,” he said.

  They set to their unpleasant task and it was a full half-hour before they managed to remove the last trace of Flubber’s breakfast. Their cleaning duties over, they took a hot shower, using as much soap as they could lay their hands on.

  “Two more days of this,” moaned Ben. “And it’s all Hardtack’s fault.”

  “Oh well,” said Badger. “Let’s try to think of something nice instead. That sometimes works, you know. If you have something horrible to do, think of something good and it takes your mind off it.”

  “Such as?” asked Ben.

  Badger thought for a moment. “The Caribbean,” said Badger. “Beaches of white sand. Palm trees. Coconuts.”

  “Coconuts!” exclaimed Ben.

  “Yes,” said Badger. “Aren’t they delicious?”

  “I can’t wait,” said Ben.

  They went on deck. The coast of Mull had now vanished, and the swell of the sea was becoming more pronounced. This was the real Atlantic now. The heaving of the sea out here had the force of a full ocean behind it; the wind, unrestrained by land, had a whole sky at its back. As they went to stand at the railing and look out into the open sea, they started to forget their unpleasant experiences down below. Both of them felt they were at the beginning of some great adventure. And so it turned out, though neither would never have guessed just how exciting – and dangerous – that adventure would be.

  A wind from Africa

  It would take three weeks for the Tobermory to sail across the Atlantic. If they had been able to go in a straight line it would have been quicker, but sailing ships have to follow the winds. And winds don’t always move in the direction you want them to, nor blow as strongly as you may like.

  “We’re making good progress,” announced Mr Rigger after they had been at sea for four or five days. “You’ll see that our course is taking us down towards the Azores, which are islands right out in the Atlantic. Once we get down there we’ll pick up a wind from Africa that’ll blow us straight across to the Caribbean.”