by Bear Grylls
“They didn’t see us,” she said sadly.
“I’m afraid it’s something you get used to in situations like this,” said Bear. “And I’ll tell you someone else who isn’t going to see us either, and they’re even closer to us than that ship was.”
Mia looked around. There were no other ships. Was Bear talking about a submarine?
“Who? Where?”
Bear smiled and pointed straight up. Mia craned her head back. A thin white line was slowly drawing itself across the blue sky.
“An aeroplane?” Mia said.
Bear nodded again.
“It’s five miles up, so it’s closer than that ship on the horizon was. You’ll see several planes during the day, and you can bet not one of them will see us. It can feel like they’re ignoring you deliberately, but you can’t let it get you down. Depression is a killer for a survivor, so …” Bear tapped his head. “You don’t let it in. Think of the good things we have. A boat. A destination. The ability to get there. There have been people worse off than us, and they managed, so we can too.”
“Who had it worse?” Mia asked out of curiosity.
“Well, in 1789, a British navy captain called William Bligh managed to sail four thousand miles with eighteen men, in an open twenty-three-foot boat – smaller than Ursula and with no cabin. He only lost one man in forty-seven days.”
“That’s pretty good,” Mia agreed.
“Of course, he was a rubbish captain.” Bear smiled. “That’s why he was in that boat in the first place. His men had thrown him off his ship. But he was an amazing sailor and navigator. One thing he knew all about was keeping his men’s spirits up. They had to be kept busy. And so do we. So, how about we try to catch us some food?”
Mia was alarmed. First the water, now food?
“You mean we don’t have anything to eat on board?”
“Well, we do have tins, but there’s nothing like the buzz of catching your own fresh food. There’s some fishing twine and hooks in the locker by the wheel there …”
Mia found the reel of orange twine. One end had a hook with some bait dangling from it. The other was attached to the reel itself.
“Mind the hook,” Bear cautioned. He was still holding on to the tiller, not able to move away from it. “You can easily cut yourself. Right, start to unwind the line into the sea. When you get to the end, tie it to the stern rail …”
Mia let the hook down into the sea. It flashed and danced below the surface as Ursula pulled it along and the twine slowly stretched out behind them. After about five metres, the line was at full stretch.
Bear had said to tie it to the stern rail, but Mia couldn’t see the point in that. How would they know if they had caught something? Didn’t fishermen feel the tug on their line when they had hooked a fish?
Bear wasn’t watching. He was concentrating on steering. So Mia decided to wrap the end of the line around her finger instead. That way she would feel the tug straight away.
A few moments later Mia realised why she should have tied the line to the rail. The drag of the line through the water pulled it tight. The twine felt like someone trying to bite off Mia’s finger. Within seconds, her fingertip was numb and white. Mia stifled a scream and pulled at the line with her other hand to release the pressure.
Okay, so Bear had been right, Mia thought. There was only one way to do this. She tied the reel end of the line around the rail, like Bear had suggested.
“How do you know when you’ve caught something?” Mia asked.
“Give the line a pull every now and then. If there’s something there, you’ll feel it. Now, how do you feel about taking the tiller for a while?”
“Me?” Mia gasped.
The biggest thing she had ever steered was her bike back home. Ursula was way bigger than that.
“I’ve been awake since before the storm,” Bear pointed out. “However long you can keep going, there’s always a point where it’s better to take a rest. I don’t want to get so tired I end up making a mistake that could get us both killed. If you weren’t here then I’d have to get the sails down and let Ursula drift while I grab some kip. But I’d rather keep moving, and since you’re here …”
Mia saw what he meant. But even so it was scary.
“You will stay to check I’m doing it right?” she asked nervously.
Bear smiled.
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay up here until I’m sure you’ve got it.”
“Okay.”
Bear moved over to one side, still keeping hold of the tiller. Mia cautiously took his place and wrapped her fingers around the wooden pin. Mia had control of Ursula.
8
MIA IN CHARGE
The tiller trembled beneath Mia’s hands. Every now and then it tried to give a strong jerk to the left or the right.
“It wants to go all over the place,” she said.
“Well, sailing is one big balancing act between the sails and the keel and the rudder. We’ve lost our normal rudder and we’re using a washboard attached to an oar, so we’re unbalanced. So yes, the boat wants to go all over the place but we can’t let it. Now, we want to steer a course of two hundred and ninety degrees.”
There was a compass the size of a dinner plate in a glass case next to the wheel. The dial was marked with the four main directions, and every ten degrees in between. If it had been a clock face then 290 degrees would have been where ten o’clock was.
Mia tried to keep Ursula on course, but the compass swung back and forth.
“The waves keep knocking us all over,” Mia protested.
Bear smiled.
“Don’t try to exactly correct the course every time we bounce one way or another. The best we can do is stick to the right course generally, as close as we can. Also, the person steering has to keep an eye on the wind.”
He pointed.
“See those tell-tales, those bits of cotton tied to the ropes, blowing in the wind? They show the direction the wind is coming from. You can see that at the moment it’s coming from the front right, and we’re sailing at an angle to it. That means we have the sails hauled in quite tight. If the wind shifts further forward, we’ll pull the sails in a bit more, and if it comes back, we’ll let the sails out. So, the wind pushes on the sails one way, the water pushes against the keel the other way, and the boat moves like someone squeezing an orange pip between two fingers …”
“It moves forward,” Mia realised. Bear nodded.
“The wind’s like the boat, always moving a little from side to side, and that’s fine. If it changes big time then you have to adjust the sails, using these winches.”
There were winches on either side of Ursula, with ropes that led to the end of the foresail. A third rope was attached to the end of the boom. Bear showed how to either turn the handles on the winches to tighten the sails up, or how to release the winches and let the sails out.
“Now, how’s the line doing?”
Bear tugged on the line streaming behind Ursula.
“Hello! We have something!”
He pulled the line in, hand over hand. Something big and silver flashed and thrashed at the end of it. Their catch was putting up a fight. Mia felt she should go and help Bear, but she couldn’t let go of the tiller.
“A Pacific cod!” Bear sounded pleased. “Ten kilos, I’d say. There’s enough here to keep us going for a good while.”
Bear got the thrashing fish in a bucket and then disappeared down below. Mia concentrated hard on keeping the tiller in the right place. Between watching the sails, the waves and the compass, it was hard work and took all her concentration.
Bear was soon back up on deck with a couple of bowls in his hands. One was full of pinky white flesh.
“That was quick,” said Mia.
Bear laughed as he laid the strips of fresh fish out on the cabin roof, next to the solar still.
“The sun will dry these out, and we can eat them later. But this,” he said, holding the second bowl towards her, �
��we’ll use now.”
He pulled out a fleshy lump the size of a plum. Bear squeezed it into a cup, and oily, yellow liquid slowly dripped out between his fingers.
“Now, this is a bit whiffy, but cod liver oil makes an excellent sun block.” Bear smiled at Mia. “I’m tough and weather beaten, but your skin is fairer than mine and I’d say you’re starting to burn.”
Mia winced.
“You’re not rubbing that on me!” she exclaimed.
Bear grinned.
“You’re right, Mia. I’m not. You are. Sunburn is a killer. It dehydrates you and it harms your skin, which is your body’s first line of defence.”
Mia had to admit that her face was starting to feel hot and dry, and there was no point suffering painfully if it could be avoided. So, she reluctantly dipped a finger into the fish oil and smeared it over her face and nose. She tried to ignore the fish smell.
“And now …” Bear stretched. “I really do need that break. Can I leave you in charge for an hour? I’ll do the pumping, then rest.”
Mia felt she had the hang of Ursula’s ways now. She gripped the tiller confidently.
“I’m pretty sure I can,” she said.
“You’re doing really well, Mia. Give me a shout if you need me.”
Bear disappeared down below, and Mia was on her own.
Yeah, I can do this, she told herself.
Ursula was nudging off course again. Mia gently tweaked the tiller to get the compass back to 290 degrees.
The wind against her face seemed to shift slightly. Mia glanced at the cotton tell-tales. Sure enough, they were swinging round a bit.
Mia reached for the nearest winch. Then her hand paused. Did she really need to adjust the sails every time the wind bounced around a bit? Maybe she should save her energy.
The tell-tales showed the wind was still moving. Suddenly Ursula began to shake. The foresail went loose. The boom and the main sail swung over, with an enormous crash that shook the timbers.
Mia cringed and pulled on the winch. The boom swung back, more gently. The sails filled with wind and went taut again. Ursula ran smoothly again.
“Are you okay, Mia?” Bear called.
“Yes, fine!” Mia nodded frantically. “Yes, totally, absolutely, thanks.”
Bear didn’t say anything else. Ursula sailed on, with Mia a little wiser at the helm.
9
LAND HO
Mia stirred sleepily in her bunk. It was still dark but the alarm clock on the shelf by her head was beeping. Time to get up and take her next watch.
Mia and Bear had spent the rest of the day taking turns at the tiller, and pumping, and generally keeping Ursula afloat and on course. They snacked on dried fish washed down with rationed mouthfuls of water. They had worked out their routine well, but by the time Mia had to turn in, she had been dead on her feet.
She had slept like a log, and now she felt completely refreshed – and excited. She was looking forward to getting back to work.
The first task was pumping water out. Then she climbed the ladder back onto deck. Bear was at the tiller, a silhouette against the stars.
The stars!
Mia looked up and felt her mind get blown.
“Wow!”
The sky was alive. Billions of tiny little twinkling points, from horizon to horizon.
“You probably won’t see them like this back home,” said Bear. She could hear the smile in his voice. “There’s too much light pollution drowning them out. But out here, there’s absolutely nothing to get in the way.”
Mia made her way to the back of the boat and took the tiller from Bear.
“I can’t see the compass,” she realised.
“We can navigate by the stars, like our ancestors.” Bear’s outline pointed up. “See the Plough?”
Mia recognised the constellation, like a square saucepan. It was one of the things she could see at night back home, accompanied by a few hundred little friends. Now, it had about a billion.
“See the edge of the blade? Those two stars? Follow them up …” Bear’s finger moved upwards. “And they point at that star there, the North Star. That star stays fixed while the others rotate around it, and it’s always in the north – or from our point of view, about one inch to the right of the top of the mast. So as long as you keep the North Star there, we’ll be on course. Got that? Awesome! See you in a couple of hours!”
Mia was left alone at the tiller again, steering Ursula like a starship through space.
Soon the new day dawned, and for the first time in her life Mia saw the sun come up. A ball of red fire rose up from the horizon, turning yellow as it got higher. The sky faded from dark to grey to blue, and colour returned to the world. Clouds floated on the horizon ahead, like piled-up giant tufts of cotton wool sitting on a glass surface. She pointed them out when Bear came up on deck.
“Those are the first I’ve seen since I came on board.”
Bear looked pleased.
“That’s cumulus cloud, and it usually hangs over land. The temperature difference between land and sea makes water droplets form in the air.”
“So, that’s our island?” Mia asked.
“That’s our island!” Bear agreed with a smile. “Bang on course, too. Go us! I couldn’t have done it without you, Mia.”
Mia felt a proud glow inside her.
But the land was still a long way off, and Ursula wasn’t exactly fast. They plodded on, and Bear and Mia kept up their routines. Bear had stretched out a couple of tarpaulins on deck overnight, and in the new light Mia could see they were covered with dew – thousands of tiny droplets of water. Bear ran this into a bottle for drinking later. They had a breakfast of dried fish strips, and a bowl of tinned fruit from the cabin. They took turns on the tiller. They checked the solar still for water. They pumped.
The cumulus cloud slowly got closer. After a few hours, Mia could see something dark on the horizon below it. At first it was just a dark line, but gradually it grew and spread out. Then she began to see colours. Greens and browns.
Bear studied the island through the binoculars.
“Trees and plants,” he said approvingly. “That’s good. It means there’ll be fresh water too.”
Once Bear was back on the tiller, Mia took the binoculars so that she could see the island for herself. It was surrounded by cliffs, with waves smashing hard against them.
“Um, Bear,” she said. “Where are we going to land?”
“Good question. We’ll go around and see what we find.”
And so, they had to wait even longer as Ursula crept around the island’s coast. Mia watched it pass by, inch by inch. Even if she and Bear just stayed on the island until rescue came, she hoped that they would be able to patch Ursula up properly. Mia had grown fond of the old boat and it deserved good treatment. Ursula had her ways – very particular ways. But as long as you remembered that the boat was boss, not you, you could handle her. Mia felt pretty good that she had helped Bear bring them this far.
Mia had always felt that following someone else’s instructions made you less free. But she realised she had been wrong. In fact, following sensible instructions just stopped you wasting everyone’s time. And in a worst case scenario, as Mia now knew, it could save your life.
Then Mia saw it. The cliffs dropped down and she made out a flash of yellow at sea level.
“There’s a sandy beach!”
“I see it!” Bear turned the front end towards the shore. “I’m going to run us aground deliberately. The bottom’s sandy so we’ll be fine. You’d better get back into your swimming gear. Tie a rope to the anchor, then after we hit, swim to shore with it so you can drag the anchor after you. Then we’ll be good and secure.”
Mia went down below to get changed.
Soon after, Ursula ran into the sandy bottom with a gentle bump. Immediately Mia jumped into the sea with the rope. She swam to the beach through soft, warm water and waded ashore.
Bear had dropped the sails w
hile she was swimming. Now he heaved the anchor over the side.
“Pull it in!” he called. Mia started to pull, hand over hand. The anchor emerged from the surf. Mia tugged it with both hands up the beach to the nearest tree. She looped it around the trunk, and caught the anchor prongs on its own rope. There, that should hold.
Mia trotted back to the sea, quickly, because the sun-warmed sand was starting to burn her bare feet. She dived into the first wave. The bubbles rushed against her skin, and the roaring whoosh filled her ears. And that was weird – she thought she could hear voices.
Mia broke the surface and started to swim back to Ursula and Bear.
Bonk.
An inflated ball bounced off her head. Mia stopped swimming and trod water. Eh?
Her ears were full of happy shouts and yells. Kids splashed around her in inflatable tubes. A whistle blew and the umpire called.
“All players back into their tubes before we start again – that includes you, Mia!”
Mia stared in astonishment.
She was back in the pool at Camp.
10
END GAME
“Mia!” the umpire called again. “You need to get into your tube.”
Mia’s head still whirled. She was confused. What had happened to the island, to Bear, and the boat? How had she ended up back in the pool?
But there was no time for that. What seemed more important was that she was back in the middle of the game of Tube Polo, and she had to get on with it. Maybe that bump on the head from the ball had knocked some weird daydream into her. Mia had heard that dreams only last a couple of seconds, even if you remember them taking much longer.
Mia remembered the reason she had ended up in the water in the first place. Her tube had sprung a leak and was half submerged next to her.
“It’s gone down,” she called.