by Justin D'Ath
And I started breathing again.
But just before he and his two companions turned their attention to Siti’s boat, Pirate Boy shot me a long threatening look that told me he wasn’t through with me yet.
You and I have a score to settle, his eyes seemed to say.
And he was right. We did.
20
SCUM
As soon as the pirates weren’t looking, I reached over the side and scooped the possum-like animal out of the sea. I was extra gentle handling it because I’d seen what it did to Pirate Boy. Apart from being soaking wet, it seemed to be okay. I put it under the front seat where it wouldn’t be trampled by monkeys and where Pirate Boy wouldn’t see it if he came looking for revenge. At the moment he was busy ransacking Siti’s boat.
It made me angry to watch the pirates at work. The oldest one, Pirate Boy’s uncle, kept his submachine gun trained on Siti’s family while the other two went through their stuff. The gun wasn’t necessary – Siti and her parents looked too scared to do anything. They huddled with their dog down one end of their boat, their heads bent and their eyes downcast. I couldn’t see her mother’s face because she’d wrapped her scarf around her head, but tears streaked Siti’s cheeks and dripped from her chin. Her father’s lips were moving – I think he was praying.
The pirates took everything of value – the TV, jewellery, watches, fishing gear, even a portable gas cooker and a suitcase of clothing. The motor scooter was too heavy to lift from one boat to the other. They put a plank across and tried to wheel it up onto the foredeck of their overloaded speedboat, but a big swell came along at just the wrong moment and the motor scooter tipped off into the sea. It made a huge splash, drenching one of the pirates, which sent the other two into hysterics.
I didn’t think it was funny. The motor scooter had looked new – it must have cost Siti’s parents a lot of money. Now it was gone, along with their home and almost everything they owned. It wasn’t something to laugh about.
The family’s chooks had been keeping out of the pirates’ way. But when Pirate Boy ripped open a hessian bag and grain spilled out, they crowded around his legs in a clucking, pecking frenzy. Even the goat joined in. It had been hiding in the boat’s cabin since the pirates fired their warning shots, but the lure of a feed brought it trotting out. Our chook heard what was going on and became really excited. It flapped up onto my shoulder to have a look, then wobbled across the rope to Siti’s boat to join the feast.
Pirate Boy’s uncle and the other man laughed at the scene. And it did look funny seeing all the chooks and the goat crowding around him, as if he was a farm boy, not a pirate. But Pirate Boy didn’t share the joke and started viciously kicking the chooks away. There were squawks of panic, feathers flew and the birds scattered. The goat wasn’t so lucky. It was only half-grown – a small brown-and-white kid with floppy ears and large, innocent eyes – and it didn’t see the danger until it was too late. One well-aimed kick from the angry young pirate made it stagger sideways. A second kick sent it tumbling over the side. Siti screamed.
‘HEY!’ I yelled, clambering to my feet.
My reactions were instinctive. I’d stood up and yelled before I realised what I was doing. All I’d been thinking about was the goat, not about my own safety.
The three pirates looked at me. Pirate Boy’s uncle said something in Malaysian and the other man laughed.
Pirate Boy didn’t laugh. He drew the pistol from his belt and pointed it at me. ‘You have something to say to me?’ he snarled.
‘Say you’re sorry,’ Mr Griffin whispered urgently at my feet. ‘He’s mad enough to shoot you if you don’t pacify him.’
But I wasn’t sorry. The boat rocked under me as I balanced, trembling, six metres from the muzzle of Pirate Boy’s pistol. It was trembling, too. And I could see his eyes bulging and his chest rising and falling, as if he was having trouble controlling his temper.
‘You have something to say?’ he repeated, hoarsely.
I nodded. Looking him squarely in the eye, I told Pirate Boy exactly what was on my mind: ‘You and your mates are no-good, cowardly scum!’
I could have dived out of the way and Pirate Boy would probably have missed. A pistol isn’t the most accurate of weapons, especially on a rocking boat. But if I moved and he shifted his aim, there was the danger he might hit Mr Griffin or one of the monkeys. Also, I didn’t want to give Pirate Boy the satisfaction of seeing me dive for cover.
If he was going to shoot me, he’d have to look me in the eye as he pulled the trigger. I didn’t think he had the guts.
It was a stupid gamble. I should have taken Mr Griffin’s advice and said something to calm the boy down. But watching him and the other two pirates ransack Siti’s boat had pushed me to the limit. Kicking the little goat off the boat had been the final straw.
‘You probably think you’re tough,’ I said recklessly. ‘But only a complete mongrel would steal from people who’ve lost almost everything.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Siti watching me with her mouth open. Everyone else was watching Pirate Boy. His trembling was getting worse. Not just his pistol hand, but his arm, his legs and his whole body had begun shaking. Even his face was getting in on the act – a weird twitchy flutter started at his jaw, moved up his cheeks and set his eyes blinking crazily.
Pirate Boy tried to say something, but all that came from his twitching mouth was a wheezy cough.
Then the pistol fell from his grasp and he collapsed in a heap.
It proved everything I’d said and thought about him. What sort of pirate faints when they’re supposed to be shooting someone?
I wasn’t interested in finding out. While the other two pirates leapt forward to revive Pirate Boy, I dragged my sneakers off and jumped over the side into the shark-and-crocodile-infested sea.
21
TRAVELLING FIRST CLASS
Siti and her father leaned over the side as I pulled the half-drowned goat over to their boat. Siti’s father hauled it aboard while she helped me in.
‘You are very brave,’ she said.
I wasn’t sure if she was talking about how I’d jumped in to save the goat, or how I’d told Pirate Boy what I thought of him. It didn’t matter. Right now I was just glad to be out of the sea. But there was barely room for me in Siti’s boat, with all three pirates aboard.
‘Hasn’t he come around yet?’ I asked.
It was two minutes since Pirate Boy had collapsed and he was still out cold. His uncle and the other pirate crouched over him.
‘I think it is because the loris bite him,’ Siti whispered.
‘The loris?’ I said. ‘Do you mean that little furry animal?’
She nodded. ‘The bite of that one is poison.’
I had never heard of a loris, nor of a mammal with a poisonous bite. Did Siti mean blood poisoning? If something has bacteria in its mouth – like the Komodo dragon, for example – it can cause blood poisoning in its victim. But the symptoms take hours – even days – to develop, not minutes.
‘Ask the pirates if I can look at him,’ I said to Siti.
They made room for me and I knelt over Pirate Boy. He was in a really bad way, wheezing and trembling and beaded all over with sweat. I lifted the hand that the loris had bitten. Sure enough, it was red and badly swollen. I noticed something else, too – raised red blotches all the way up his arm. There were more red lumps on his neck and face.
‘Can you hear me?’ I asked.
Pirate Boy’s eyes fluttered open but they looked unfocused. A wheezy sound escaped his swollen lips. His neck looked swollen, too.
‘Nod if you can hear me,’ I said.
He gave a weak nod.
‘Have you ever had allergic reactions?’
His head moved, but I wasn’t sure if he’d nodded or not. His eyes were closed again. I turned to Siti.
‘Ask his uncle if he has ever been ill like this before.’
Siti and Pirate Boy’s uncle had a short conver
sation in Malaysian.
‘He said it has one time happen like this when he was little boy,’ Siti told me. ‘After a hornet has sting him he nearly die. His parents take him to hospital in Kuching.’
The same thing had happened to me once, only I’d been stung by a bee, not a hornet. The loris’s bite must have contained something worse than bacteria – some kind of poison. Pirate Boy was suffering from anaphylactic shock. This time he probably would die.
Unless I saved him.
‘Siti, tell the boy’s uncle to stay here and make sure he doesn’t stop breathing,’ I said. ‘I want the other man and your father to come with me.’
The pirate leader spoke angrily to Siti. Why should they obey the tourist boy?
‘Ask him if he wants his nephew to live,’ I replied.
After that, they did what I said.
I led Siti’s father and the other pirate to the rear of Siti’s boat. We used the rope to drag our boat’s bow hard up against the stern of Siti’s, and her father tied it there. The macaques crowded down the other end with Grumpy. All sixteen monkeys watched curiously as I clambered into the bow next to Mr Griffin. When Siti’s father started to follow me, I shook my head. Our boat wasn’t big enough to stay afloat with three people and sixteen monkeys aboard.
‘Siti, are there any more bananas?’ I called.
She passed one to her father, who gave it to me. With my back to the monkeys, I quickly peeled the banana. Then I turned, showed it to them, and tossed it up into the pirates’ boat.
The big black speedboat was tied side-by-side to Siti’s boat, but it was nearly twice as long. The rear half of it rocked up and down in the sea two metres from our boat – an easy jump for a hungry macaque. Even the mother with the baby clinging to her belly made it across. That just left the proboscis monkey and the loris. I already knew they were both good swimmers.
Using Siti as a translator, I told the two men what to do. Carefully, we lifted Mr Griffin into Siti’s boat, where Siti and her mother could take care of him. Then I climbed back into my boat. The loris watched me from under the front seat and Grumpy watched me from the stern.
‘Sorry about this, guys,’ I said, and tugged my EpiPen free.
It was like pulling out the plug in a bath, only in reverse. Water came squirting up through the hole, slowly filling the boat. I clambered back into Siti’s boat and scrambled forward to help Pirate Boy.
An EpiPen is like a hypodermic syringe full of adrenaline. It’s a cure for anaphylactic shock. That’s why I always carry one with me – in case I get stung by a bee or a wasp.
I didn’t wait to see if they worked for loris bites, too. As soon as I’d injected Pirate Boy and made sure his breathing hadn’t got worse, I hurried back to the stern to make sure Grumpy and the loris were okay. The smaller boat was half underwater and sinking fast. Grumpy still sat in the stern, looking down at the rising water with a worried expression. There was no sign of the loris. The front seat – where I’d last seen the strange little creature – was completely submerged. Uh oh, I thought. Then I saw two big round eyes looking out at me from a nest of coiled rope at my feet. The loris had made it safely onto Siti’s boat.
But what about Grumpy? He still hadn’t moved.
‘Time to abandon ship, Grumpy,’ I called.
He looked at me, rubbed his big droopy nose, then jumped into the sea. I hoped he would swim to the pirates’ boat, but instead Grumpy turned in the other direction – towards land. It was five kilometres away!
I wanted to shout at him to come back, but I kept my mouth shut. Shouting would only make him more scared. Grumpy wasn’t like the macaques – people made him nervous. I guess he’d had enough of us and wanted to return to the wild. I didn’t blame him. But could he swim that far? Would he get taken by sharks or crocodiles? I tried not to think about it. There was nothing I could do for the proboscis monkey now except wish him luck. I had enough troubles of my own.
Our boat had completely filled with water – just its square-tipped prow and one edge poked out of the sea. I untied the rope securing it to Siti’s boat and watched it sink slowly into the depths. It was sad to see it disappear. I hoped its owners – the people from the blue house – had made it to safety.
Before I went back to see how Pirate Boy was doing, I checked on Mr Griffin. Siti and her mother had made him comfortable on one of the mattresses and covered him with a blanket. He even had a pillow.
‘How’s this,’ Mr Griffin said weakly, attempting a smile. ‘Travelling First Class!’
22
BANG! BANG!
Pirate Boy had made an excellent recovery. He was sitting up, supported by his uncle. But if I expected him to thank me, I was in for a disappointment.
‘You tricked me!’ he snarled, pointing his finger like a pistol. ‘You knew that animal was in there.’
‘I forgot about it,’ I said truthfully. ‘So much was going on. And I didn’t know it was dangerous. I’m sorry.’
It felt wrong to apologise, but I had to calm Pirate Boy down before he remembered his real pistol – the one he’d dropped when he fainted. The one the other two pirates hadn’t noticed when they went to his aid.
The pistol I’d shoved out of sight with my foot when nobody was looking.
Pirate Boy’s chest rose and fell. His breathing still wasn’t normal. Anaphylactic shock isn’t something you get over in just a few minutes, even with the help of an EpiPen.
‘Do you want a drink?’ I asked.
The young pirate’s face was defiant. But slowly he lowered his pointing finger and nodded.
‘Okay,’ he said softly.
I asked Siti for some water and took it to Pirate Boy. He drank deeply from the bottle, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
‘Why are you being kind to me?’ he asked.
‘It’s what you do when someone needs help,’ I said.
Pirate Boy seemed to think about this. His eyes travelled to the big black pirate boat tied alongside Siti’s boat. Then his gaze shifted back to the little family sitting forlornly next to Mr Griffin among what was left of their possessions. He said something to his uncle, who helped him to his feet.
‘Here,’ Pirate Boy said to me, fishing something from his pocket. ‘You can have this back.’
It was my watch. I took it without thanking him. ‘What about the other stuff?’
Pirate Boy grinned sheepishly and dug into his other pocket. He handed me Mr Griffin’s watch.
‘I meant the stuff belonging to these people,’ I said, pointing at Siti’s family.
The boy shuffled his bare feet. ‘This is not your business,’ he said softly. ‘You are lucky I did not shoot you.’
Then he remembered something. He looked down where he’d been lying after he fainted, then said something to his uncle. His uncle shook his head. The other pirate had crossed back to their boat. He stood up on the flying bridge with his submachine gun, nervously keeping an eye on the fifteen macaques that were picking through the pirates’ plunder like little pirates themselves. Pirate Boy asked him the same question he’d asked his uncle. The second pirate shook his head, too.
Pirate Boy turned to me. ‘Did you see where my pistol went?’
‘No,’ I lied. ‘It might have fallen over the side.’
I can be a convincing liar when I have to. And this time I had to – both his uncle and the other pirate had submachine guns. I’d be in deep trouble if they found out I’d hidden the pistol.
Pirate Boy didn’t believe it had fallen over the side. He and his uncle began searching for it. They were getting dangerously close to the big red, blue and white storage bag I’d shoved it under. I shuffled quickly sideways and bent over the bag.
‘BERHENTI!’ barked Pirate Boy’s uncle, swinging his submachine gun around.
I froze.
‘Tell him I’m just getting something to eat,’ I said to Pirate Boy.
Instead of reaching under the bag, I reached into it. And pulled o
ut a banana. Smiling, I held it like a pistol and pointed it at one of the monkeys watching me from the other boat.
‘Bang! Bang!’ I said.
All three pirates laughed, and I laughed, too.
Slowly, I began peeling the banana. My hands were shaking and my palms were sweaty, but I tried to look casual – like someone about to eat a banana, not someone about to start a riot. When the banana was peeled, I offered it to Pirate Boy’s uncle. The man smiled and shook his head. He lowered his gun.
‘What about you?’ I asked the pirate looking down at us from the other boat.
And tossed the peeled banana up to him.
23
PISTOL
The pirate took one hand off his submachine gun to catch the banana. It was his right hand – the one he’d normally use to pull the trigger. So when the monkeys hit, coming from all directions in a massive gang tackle, the gun was useless. Fifteen macaques versus one effectively unarmed pirate. No contest.
They only wanted the banana, but macaques have no manners. It was like a brown furry tornado with a pirate somewhere in the middle. I didn’t blame him for dropping the gun and crossing both arms over his head to protect himself. The big submachine gun clattered down the side of the cockpit and fell through the gap between the two boats. Splash!
My banana trick did more than put the second pirate out of action, it distracted Pirate Boy and his uncle as well. They both turned to watch the action. And forgot about me.
Big mistake.
A double front snap kick sent Pirate Boy’s uncle toppling over the side. He landed straddling the gap between the two boats. It was too narrow for his body to fall through, but the arm holding the submachine gun disappeared from sight. He struggled to pull his weapon free, but he was too slow. A wave slammed the two boats together like the jaws of a giant vice.