A Different Land

by Paul Jennings

  Christopher was torn. He wanted to help Crayfish. But they had to get off the boat or they would drown. The water was now just below deck level.

  She was going down. Fast.

  He had to hurry.

  ‘Think,’ he said. ‘Think.’ He looked around. A closed locker. What was inside? He ran over to it and threw open the lid. It was full of fishing gear.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. He threw the contents aside recklessly until he found what he was looking for – a spool with fishing line wrapped neatly around its core.

  ‘Got it,’ he yelled.

  He called to Lonely. ‘You have to save us,’ he said. ‘If I swim for it, Crayfish will go down with the boat. And so will you. I know it’s dangerous. But you are our only hope.’

  Lonely put his head on his paws.

  Christopher groaned as a flash of memory shot through his mind. Lonely. Hiding under the train. Refusing to budge.

  ‘Not again,’ said Christopher.

  He picked up Lonely and carried him to the edge of the deck. Then he tied the end of the fishing line to the little dog’s collar.

  ‘Go,’ he said. ‘Swim for it, Lonely. Take this line to the shore.’

  Lonely sat down and closed his eyes.

  ‘No you don’t,’ said Christopher. ‘I’ve got something for you to chase.’

  The figures on the shore were gesturing desperately with their arms but it was impossible to know what they were trying to say.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of grease-proof paper.

  ‘Look, look. Look at this,’ he shouted.

  Lonely opened one eye but wasn’t really interested. Until he saw the sausage. Christopher held his arm back behind his head. And threw with all his might.

  The sausage sailed through the air in a high arc. Then it began to fall. Lonely was already over the edge before the sausage hit the water, well short of the bank. He began to swim. He was moving sideways, being pulled by the current.

  ‘You can do it, Lonely,’ whispered Christopher.

  The Bot, Anton and his mother were jumping around and waving. As Christopher watched he saw another person appear there, and then another and another. Every customer the pub had ever had must have been there.

  ‘Go, Lonely, go,’ said Christopher. He paid out the line generously.

  The head of the little dog was all that could be seen but Christopher knew that under the surface his small legs would be paddling like crazy. It was obvious that Lonely was not going to make it. His legs were tiring. He was being slowly swept upstream.

  Suddenly a figure on the shore dashed into the swollen river. It was The Bot. He dived into the rushing water and swam furiously towards Lonely.

  ‘Go, go, go,’ said Christopher.

  The two heads in the water moved towards each other. And then finally met. The Bot grabbed the little dog and turned over on his back and began to kick his feet.

  ‘Yes,’ exclaimed Christopher.

  The crowd was pulling on a rope that had been tied to The Bot. For what seemed like hours, he moved closer to the shore. Finally, he stood and held the dog high in the air for all to see.

  ‘They’ve got it,’ shouted Christopher. ‘They’ve got it. Well done, Lonely.’

  There was a tug on the fishing line and more waving. Christopher started to wind it back in, immediately feeling the pull of the rope on the other end. As he heaved, the weight on the line increased.

  ‘Don’t break, don’t break,’ he said.

  He snatched a glance at Crayfish, who was still flat on his back with his eyes closed.

  The water had now risen and covered the portholes. At any moment it would be sweeping the deck. Christopher dropped the spool and began pulling on the line, hand over hand, dropping the cord behind him in tangled coils.

  ‘Got it,’ he yelled as the end of the thick rope slipped over the railing. He bit off the fishing line and rushed to the hatch cover. With trembling fingers, he tied the rope to one of its steel rings. Water swirled around his feet and covered the sagging canvas that protected the hold.

  He grabbed Crayfish under the arms and dragged him onto the floating hatch cover. Just in time. The boat began to tilt sideways. Its port-side railing disappeared under the water. On the starboard side the railing was now high in the air.

  Their raft shivered and began to slide over the submerged rail into the water. Christopher threw himself across Crayfish’s prone body to pin him down. He desperately grabbed the edge of the hatch cover.

  With a gurgle the front edge of the hatch cover plunged into the swirling water.

  Christopher closed his eyes and held his breath as he and Crayfish were sucked beneath the surface.

  For a frozen second they remained tilted, with one end of the cover below the surface and the other reaching for the sky. Then it corrected.

  With an enormous thump the raised half whacked back onto the surface.

  Christopher gasped for air. He choked and spluttered. For a moment he fought to understand what had happened. Then he realised. Their raft was floating. And they were both still alive.

  But far from safe. He waved in panic at the far-off figures.

  ‘Pull,’ he screamed. ‘Pull.’

  They were drifting sideways. But then the rope tightened and they began to move slowly towards the shore. A long line of people on the edge of the river were pulling like contestants in a tug of war.

  Crayfish groaned and gave a small cough, but his eyes were still closed.

  ‘Hurry, hurry,’ shouted Christopher. He began pulling on the rope himself but had to release his grip as it slipped through his fingers, ripping at the skin.

  But there was hope. He could see that the raft was moving closer and closer to the bank. The seconds seemed like days. And the minutes like weeks. But in the end he felt a bump as the raft hit the shore. He jumped off and staggered onto the wet grass.

  He felt his mother’s embracing arms.

  ‘Christopher, oh, Christopher,’ she gasped.

  He hugged her weakly.

  ‘Crayfish,’ he mumbled.

  A small crowd was surrounding the prone figure. A cheer went up as Crayfish opened his eyes, sat up and groaned. He was blinking in confusion.

  He stared at the hatch cover and the rope and the faces looking down at him.

  ‘Who did it?’ he said. ‘Who saved us?’

  The Bot pointed to Lonely and then to Christopher.

  ‘Christopher did,’ he said. ‘He’s a hero.’

  Christopher clapped a hand on The Bot’s back. ‘This man is a wonder,’ he said. ‘He’s the true hero.’

  ‘It wasn’t just me,’ The Bot said shyly. ‘It was everyone. Out here in the bush we all …’ He stared at the rope and grinned. ‘Pull together.’

  The others smiled but then everyone fell silent as they saw Crayfish staring out at his boat.

  Only the starboard railing and part of the bridge could be seen as the dying vessel tipped further onto its side. Suddenly it rolled right over. Bottom up.

  Then it tipped lengthwise with its propeller pointing at the heavens. The whole vessel shuddered and began to slip forwards into the gurgling water. Christopher could see the name of the boat painted on its stern. He couldn’t quite make it out. The writing was upside down.

  ‘PEGGY,’ said Anton.

  The boat trembled and then disappeared. A burst of bubbles briefly marked its watery grave.

  A single tear trickled down Crayfish’s cheek.

  ‘She’s gone,’ he said. No one spoke.

  Christopher stared at Crayfish. Was he talking about the boat? Or the woman he had married and loved for so many years?

  Pat put a hand on Crayfish’s shoulder and then hugged him. ‘Gone,’ she said. ‘But not forgotten.’

  Christopher smiled. He knew that the man was freed from the ghosts of his past.

  And so was he. He saw his mother comfort the grieving man and the concern on the faces of his friends. In tha
t moment he realised that this land and these people had something to offer that he had thought only existed in the past.

  ‘Hey, you two,’ he said. ‘Let’s go home.’

  Ten

  Six months later, Christopher was in the bedroom twiddling the dials on his radio transmitter. He looked out the window and saw the others sitting outside the pub. They were under a sun umbrella at one of the tables that were scattered around on the grass.

  ‘Time for lunch,’ he said. He took off his headphones and left the room.

  The winter sun shone on his back with just the right amount of warmth. As he made his way to their table, he couldn’t help but reflect on the changes the pub had undergone.

  A group of tourists who had escaped from the cold southern states filled up most of the outside tables. More were eating inside.

  The new toilet and shower block glistened under a fresh coat of paint.

  Christopher glanced at the sign hanging over the glass doors and the windows with flywire screens, Pat’s idea. He read the new name of the pub to himself and smiled.

  Pat, Crayfish and Anton looked up as he arrived.

  ‘Hey, guess what,’ said Christopher. ‘I’ve just been on the School of the Air. Anton got an A for English.’

  ‘Congratulations, Anton,’ said Pat.

  He gave a shy smile in return.

  ‘What’s the teacher’s name?’ said Crayfish.

  ‘Rabbit,’ said Christopher.

  ‘And what do they call you?’ said Crayfish.

  Christopher blushed.

  ‘Long Drop,’ yelled Anton. ‘Everyone calls him Long Drop.’

  Pat tried not to laugh but she couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Don’t laugh,’ said Christopher with a grin. ‘Or I’ll think of a worse nickname for you.’

  Praise for

  A Different Dog

  ‘Thought-provoking. Uplifting. Highly recommended.’

  SUNDAY TELEGRAPH

  ‘There is suspense from start to finish, surprising twists and turns, and nail-biting situations. Once again, Jennings proves himself to be a master of engagement from start to finish – and leaves us wanting more.’

  READING TIME

  ‘Paul Jennings’ latest novel will win the hearts of young and old. As always, Paul combines humour with a tale of courage and determination. You’ll love reading his latest offering with the kids each night.’

  WOMAN’S DAY

  ‘Paul Jennings surprises and draws the reader in through the unexpected. Once again, his work won’t disappoint.’

  KIDS’ BOOK REVIEW

  ‘What a pleasure to have a new book by Paul Jennings … and one containing so many of his hallmarks of excellence.’

  MAGPIES

  ‘Jennings is a master of the slow reveal. He never talks down to his young readers, but rather feeds their imaginations with choice kernels of information, ably supported by Geoff Kelly’s moody, etching-like illustrations.’

  THE BIG ISSUE

  Praise for

  A Different Boy

  ‘A Different Boy is a gripping read and the twist in the middle will leave readers gasping.’

  SYDNEY MORNING HERALD

  ‘Being a Paul Jennings story, it is full of intrigue and mystery which keeps you guessing right to the last page.’

  GOOD READING

  ‘The twists and turns and the surprise ending are pure Jennings.’

  THE ADVERTISER

  ‘Paul Jennings is at his best with A Different Boy, which is full of plot twists and surprises.’

  KIDS’ BOOK REVIEW

  ‘A truly heartbreaking and heartwarming story by an incredible wordsmith!’

  LAMONT BOOKS

  ‘An enchanting tale about loss, acceptance and family that is highly recommended.’

  THE BOOK CURATOR

  Paul Jennings has written over one hundred stories and has won every Australian children’s choice book award. Since the publication of Unreal! in 1985, readers all around the world have loved his books. The top-rating TV series Round the Twist was based on a selection of his enormously popular short-story collections such as Unseen! In 1995 he was made a Member of the Order of Australia for services to children’s literature and he was awarded the prestigious Dromkeen Medal in 2001. In 2019, A Different Boy was longlisted for the Carnegie Medal (UK), and Paul received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Children’s Book Council of Australia.

  www.pauljennings.com.au