ForGrahamandIsabella

ManyThankstoIsabellaHutchins,TerenceBuckler,andProfessorSeigoTanimoto

andhisfamily,foralltheirkindhelpwiththisbook

TitlePage

Dedication

PeggySue

Water,watereverywhere

Ship’slog

Gibbonsandghosts

I,Kensuke

Abunai!

Allthatsilencesaid

EveryonedeadinNagasaki

Thenightoftheturtles

Killermencome

Postscript

Glossary

AbouttheAuthor

Copyright

Idisappearedonthenightbeforemytwelfthbirthday.July28,1988.OnlynowcanIatlasttellthewholeextraordinarystory,thetruestory.KensukemademepromisethatIwouldsaynothing,nothingatall,untilatleasttenyearshadpassed.Itwasalmostthelastthinghesaidtome.Ipromised,andbecauseofthatIhavehadtoliveoutalie.Icouldletsleepingliessleepon,butmorethantenyearshavepassednow.Ihavedoneschool,donecollege,andhadtimetothink.Ioweittomyfamilyandtomyfriends,allofwhomIhavedeceivedforsolong,totellthetruthaboutmylongdisappearance,abouthowIlivedtocomebackfromthedead.

Butthereisanotherreasonforspeakingoutnow,afar,farbetterreason.Kensukewasagreatman,agoodman,andhewasmyfriend.IwanttheworldtoknowhimasIknewhim.

***

UntilIwasnearlyeleven,untilthelettercame,lifewasjustnormal.Therewerethefourofusinthehouse:mymother,myfather,me,andStella—StellaArtois,thatis,myone-ear-upandone-ear-downblack-and-whitesheepdog,whoalwaysseemedtoknowwhatwasabouttohappenbeforeitdid.Butevenshecouldnothaveforeseenhowthatletterwasgoingtochangeourlivesforever.

Thinkingback,therewasaregularity,asamenessaboutmyearlychildhood.Eachmorning,Iwentdownthestreetto“themonkeyschool.”Myfathercalleditthatbecausehesaidthechildrengibberedandscreechedandhungupsidedownonthejunglegymontheplayground.And,anyway,Iwasalways“monkeyface”tohim—whenhewasinaplayfulmood,thatis,whichheoftenwas.TheschoolwasreallycalledSt.Joseph’s,andIwashappythere,formostofthetime,anyway.Afterschooleveryday,whatevertheweather,I’dheaddowntotheplaygroundforsoccerwithEddieDodds,mybestfriendinalltheworld,andMattandBobbyandtheothers.Itwas

muddydownthere.Sometimestheballwouldjustlandhardandstick.Wehadourownteam,theMudlarkswecalledourselves,andweweregood,too.Visitingteamsseemedtoexpecttheballtobounceforsomereason,andbythetimetheyrealizeditdidn’t,wewereoftentwoorthreegoalsahead.Weweren’tsogoodawayfromhome.

EveryweekendIdidapaperroutefromMr.Patel’sshoponthecorner.Iwassavingupforamountainbike.IwantedtogomountainbikinguponthemoorswithEddie.Thetroublewas,IwouldkeepspendingwhatI’dsaved.I’mstillthesamethatway.

Sunday’swerealwaysspecial,Iremember.We’dgodinghysailing,allofus,onthereservoir,StellaArtoisbarkingherheadoffattheotherboatsasifthey’dnorighttobethere.Myfatherlovedit,hesaid,becausetheairwasclearandclean,nobrickdust—heworkeddownatthebrickworks.Hewasagreatdo-it-yourselffanatic.Therewasnothinghecouldn’tfix,evenifitdidn’tneedfixing.Sohewasinhiselementonaboat.Mymother,whoworkedpart-timeintheofficeatthesamebrickworks,reveledinit,too.Irememberheronce,throwingbackherheadinthewindandbreathingindeepasshesatatthetiller.“Thisisit,”shecried.“Thisishowlifeissupposedtobe.Wonderful,justwonderful.”Shealwaysworethebluecap.Shewastheundisputedskipper.Iftherewasabreezeoutthere,she’dfinditandcatchit.Shehadarealnoseforit.

Wehadsomegreatdaysonthewater.We’dgooutwhenitwasrough,whennooneelsewould,andwe’dgoskimmingoverthewaves,exhilaratinginthespeedofit,inthesheerjoyofit.Andiftherewasn’tabreathofwind,wedidn’tmindthateither.Sometimeswe’dbetheonlyboatonthewholereservoir.We’djustsitandfishinstead—bytheway,Iwasbetteratfishingthaneitherofthem—andStellaArtoiswouldbecurledupbehindusintheboat,boredwiththewholething,becausetherewasnoonetobarkat.

Thentheletterarrived.StellaArtoissavageditasitcamethroughtheletterbox.Therewerepunctureholesinitanditwasdamp,butwecouldreadenough.Thebrickworksweregoingtoclosedown.Theywerebothbeinglaidoff.

Therewasaterriblesilenceatthebreakfasttablethatmorning.AfterthatweneverwentsailingonSundaysanymore.Ididn’thavetoaskwhynot.Theybothtriedtofindjobs,buttherewasnothing.

Acreepingmiserycameoverthehouse.SometimesI’dcomehomeandtheyjustwouldn’tbespeaking.They’darguealot,aboutlittlenigglythings—andtheyhadneverbeenlikethat.Myfatherstoppedfixingthingsaroundthehouse.Hewasscarcelyeverhome,anyway.Ifhewasn’tlookingforajob,he’djustsitathome,flickingthroughendlessyachtingmagazinesandsayingnothing.

ItriedtostayoutofthehouseandplaysoccerasmuchasIcould,butthenEddiemovedawaybecausehisfatherhadfoundajobsomewheredownsouth.Soccerjustwasn’tthesamewithouthim.TheMudlarksdisbanded.Everythingwasfallingapart.

ThenoneSaturdayIcamehomefrommypaperrouteandfoundmymothersittingatthebottomofthestairsandcrying.She’dalwaysbeensostrong.I’dneverseenherlikethisbefore.

“Sillybeggar,”shesaid.“Yourdad’sasillybeggar,Michael,that’swhatheis.”

“What’shedone?”Iaskedher.“He’sleftus,”shetoldme,andIthoughtshemeantforgood.“He

wouldn’thearreason,ohno.He’shadthisidea,hesays.Hewouldn’ttellmewhatitwas,onlythathe’ssoldthecar,thatwe’removingsouth,andhe’sgoingtofindusaplace.”Iwasrelieved,andquitepleased,really.SouthmustbenearertoEddie.Shewenton:“IfhethinksI’mleavingthishouse,thenI’mtellingyouhe’sgotanotherthinkcoming.”

“Whynot?”Isaid.“Notmuchhere.”“Well,there’sthehouse,forastart.Thenthere’sGrandma,andthere’s

school.”“There’sotherschools,”Itoldher.Shebecamesteamingangrythen,

angrierthanI’deverknownher.“Youwanttoknowwhatwasthelaststraw?”shesaid.“Itwasyou,

Michael,yougoingoffonyourpaperroutethismorning.Youknowwhatyourdadsaid?Well,I’lltellyou,shallI?‘Doyouknowsomething?’hesays.‘There’sonlyonelousywagecomingintothishouse—Michael’spapermoney.Howdoyouthinkthatmakesmefeel,eh?Myson’selevenyearsold.He’sgotajob,andIhaven’t.’”

Shesteadiedherselfforamomentortwobeforeshewenton,hereyesfilledwithfiercetears.“I’mnotmoving,Michael.Iwasbornhere.AndI’m

notgoing.Nomatterwhathesays,I’mnotleaving.”Iwastherewhenthephonecallcameaweekorsolater.Iknewitwasmy

father.Mymothersaidverylittle,soIcouldn’tunderstandwhatwasgoingon,notuntilshesatmedownafterwardandtoldme.

“Hesoundsdifferent,Michael.Imean,likehisoldself,likehisveryoldself,likeheusedtobewhenIfirstknewhim.He’sfoundusaplace.‘Justpackyourstuffandcome,’hesays.Fareham.SomewherenearSouthampton.‘Rightonthesea,’hesays.There’ssomethingverydifferentabouthim,I’mtellingyou.”

Myfatherdidindeedseemachangedman.Hewaswaitingforuswhenwegotoffthetrain,allbright-eyedagainandfulloflaughter.Hehelpeduswiththesuitcases.“It’snotfar,”hesaid,rufflingmyhair.“Youwaittillyouseeit,monkeyface.I’vegotitallworkedout,thewholething.Andit’snogoodyoutryingtotalkmeoutofit,eitherofyou.I’vemadeupmymind.”

“Whatabout?”Iaskedhim.“You’llsee,”hesaid.StellaArtoisboundedalongaheadofus,hertailheldhighandhappy.We

allfeltlikethat,Ithink.Intheendwecaughtabusbecausethesuitcasesweretooheavy.When

wegotoffwewererightbythesea.Theredidn’tseemtobeanyhousesanywhere,justayachtingmarina.

“Whatarewedoinghere?”mymotherasked.“There’ssomeoneIwantyoutomeet.Agoodfriendofmine.She’scalled

PeggySue.She’sbeenlookingforwardtomeetingyou.I’vetoldherallaboutyou.”

Mymotherfrownedatmeinpuzzlement.Iwasn’tanythewiser,either.AllIknewforcertainwasthathewasbeingdeliberatelymysterious.

Westruggledonwithoursuitcases,thegullscryingoverhead,theyachtmastsclappingaroundus,andStellayappingatallofit,untilatlasthestoppedrightbyagangplankthatleduptoagleamingdarkblueyacht.Heputthesuitcasesdownandturnedtofaceus.Hewasgrinningfromeartoear.“Heresheis,”hesaid.“Letmeintroduceyou.ThisisthePeggySue.Ournewhome.Well?”

Consideringeverything,mymothertookitprettywell.Shedidn’tshoutathim.Shejustwentveryquiet,andshestayedquietallthroughhisexplanation

downinthegalleyoveracupoftea.“Itwasn’taspurofthemomentthing,youknow.I’vebeenthinkingabout

italongtime,allthoseyearsworkinginthefactory.Allright,maybeIwasjustdreamingaboutitinthosedays.Funnywhenyouthinkaboutit:IfIhadn’tlostmyjob,I’dneverhavedareddoit,notinamillionyears.”Heknewhewasn’tmakingmuchsense.“Allright,then.Here’swhatIthought.Whatisitthatwealllovedoingmost?Sailing,right?Wouldn’titbewonderful,Ithought,ifwecouldjusttakeoffandsailaroundtheworld?There’speoplewho’vedoneit.Blue-watersailing,theycallit.I’vereadaboutitinthemagazines.

“LikeIsaid,itwasjustadreamtostartwith.Andthen,nojobandnochanceofajob.Sowhynotaboat?We’vegotourseverancepay,whatlittletherewasofit.There’sabitsavedup,andthecarmoney.Notafortune,butenough.Whattodowithit?Icouldputitallinthebank,liketheothersdid.Butwhatfor?Justtowatchitdribbleawaytilltherewasnothingleft?Or,Ithought,Icoulddosomethingreallyspecialwithit,aonce-in-a-lifetimething:Wecouldsailaroundtheworld.Africa.SouthAmerica.Australia.ThePacific.Wecouldseeplaceswe’veonlyeverdreamedof.”

Wesattherecompletelydumbstruck.“Oh,Iknowwhatyou’rethinking,”hewenton.“You’rethinking,allwe’veeverdoneisreservoirsailing,dinghysailing.You’rethinking,he’sgonecrazy,loopyinthehead.You’rethinking,it’sdangerous.You’rethinking,we’llbeflatbroke.ButI’vethoughtitallout.Ieventhoughtofyourgrandma—there’sathing.Wewon’tbegoneforever,willwe?She’llbeherewhenwegetback,won’tshe?She’sperfectlyhealthy.

“We’vegotthemoney.I’vedonemymath.We’regoingtodosixmonths’training.We’llbeawayayear,eighteenmonthsmaybe,justsolongasthemoneylasts.We’regoingtodoitsafe,doitproperly.Mom,you’llgetyourYachtmaster’scertificate.Oh,didn’tIsay?Ididn’t,didI?You’llbetheskipper,Mom.I’llbefirstmateandhandyman.Michael,you’llbeship’sboy,andStella—well,Stellacanbetheship’scat.”Hewasfulltoit,breathlesswithexcitement.“We’llgetourselvesinshape.DoafewtripsacrosstheChanneltoFrance,maybeovertoIreland.We’llgettoknowthisboatlikeshe’soneofus.She’saforty-twofoot.Bowman,bestmake,bestdesign.Safestthereis.I’vedonemyhomework.Sixmonths’timeandwe’llbeoffaroundtheworld.It’llbetheadventureofalifetime.Ouronechance.We’ll

nevergetanotherone.Whatdoyouthinkthen?”“Ex…cell…ent,”Ibreathed,andthatwasexactlywhatIthought.“AndI’llbeskipper,yousay?”mymotherasked.“Ayeaye,Cap’n,”myfathersaid,andhelaughedandgaveheramock

salute.“WhataboutMichael’sschool?”shewenton.“I’vethoughtofthat,too.Iaskedinthelocalschooldownhere.It’sall

arranged.We’lltakeallthebookshe’llneed.I’llteachhim.You’llteachhim.He’llteachhimself.I’lltellyousomethingfornothing,he’lllearnmoreinacoupleofyearsatseathanheeverwouldinthatmonkeyschoolofhis.Promise.”

Shetookasipoftea,andthennoddedslowly.“Allright,”shesaid,andIsawshewassmiling.“Whynot?Goaheadthen.Buyher.Buytheboat.”

“Ialreadyhave,”saidmyfather.Ofcourseitwasmadness.Theyknewit,evenIknewit,butitsimply

didn’tmatter.Thinkingback,itmusthavebeenakindofinspirationdrivenbydesperation.

Everyonewarnedusagainstit.Grandmacamevisitingandstayedonboard.Itwasallquiteridiculous,shesaid,reckless,irresponsible.Shewasfullofdoomandgloom.Icebergs,hurricanes,pirates,whales,supertankers,freakwaves—sheheapeduphorroruponhorror,thinkingtofrightenmeandsofrightenoffmymotherandfather.Shesucceededinterrifyingme,allright,butInevershowedit.Whatshedidn’tunderstandwasthatwethreewerealreadyboundtogethernowbyacommonlunacy.Weweregoing,andnothingandnoonecouldstopus.Weweredoingwhatpeopledoinfairytales.Weweregoingofftoseekadventure.

Tobeginwith,itallhappenedmuchasmyfatherhadplannedit,exceptthatthetrainingtookalotlonger.Wesoonlearnedthathandlingaforty-two-footyachtwasnotjustdinghysailinginabiggerboat.Weweretutoredbyawhiskeredoldmarinerfromtheyachtclub,BillParker(“BarnacleBill,”wecalledhim,butnottohisface,ofcourse).HehadbeentwicearoundCapeHornandhadmadetwosingle-handedAtlanticcrossings,andhe’dbeenacrossthechannel“moretimesthanyou’vehadhotdinners,mylad.”

Totellthetruth,noneofuslikedhimmuch.Hewasahardtaskmaster.HetreatedmeandStellaArtoiswithequaldisdain.Tohim,allanimalsand

childrenwerejustanuisanceand,onboardship,nothingbutaliability.SoIkeptoutofhiswayasmuchasIcould,andsodidStellaArtois.

Tobefairtohim,BarnacleBilldidknowhisbusiness.Bythetimehehadfinishedwithus,andmymotherwasgivenhercertificate,wefeltwecouldsailthePeggySueanywhere.Hehadinculcatedinusahealthyrespectfortheseabut,atthesametime,wewereconfidentwecouldhandlejustaboutanythingtheseacouldhurlatus.

Mindyou,thereweretimesIwasscaredstiff.MyfatherandIsharedourterrortogether,silently.Youcan’tpretend,Ilearned,withatoweringgreenwallofwatertwentyfeethighbearingdownonyou.Wewentdownintroughssodeep,weneverthoughtwecouldpossiblyclimboutagain.Butwedid,andthemorewerodeourterror,rodethewaves,themorewefeltsureofourselvesandoftheboataroundus.

Mymother,though,nevershowedeventhefaintesttremoroffear.SheandthePeggySuesawusthroughourworstmoments.Butshewasseasickfromtimetotime,andweneverwere.Sothatwassomething.

Welivedclose,allofus,cheekbyjowl,andIsoondiscoveredparentsweremorethanjustparents.Myfatherbecamemyfriend,myshipmate.Wecametorelyoneachother.Andasformymother,thetruthis—andIadmitit—Ididn’tknowshehaditinher.Ihadalwaysknownshewasgritty,thatshe’dkeeponatathinguntilshe’ddoneit.Butsheworkednightanddayoverherbooksandchartsuntilshehadmasteredeverything.Sheneverstopped.True,shecouldbeabitofatyrantifwedidn’tkeeptheboatshipshape,butneithermyfathernorImindedthatmuch,thoughwepretendedto.Shewastheskipper.Shewasgoingtotakeusaroundtheworldandbackagain.Wehadabsoluteconfidenceinher.Wewereproudofher.Shewasjustbrilliant.And,Ihavetosay,theship’sboyandthefirstmatewereprettybrilliant,too,onthewinches,atthehelm,andwiththebakedbeansinthegalley.Wewereagreatteam.

So,onSeptember10,1987—IknowthedatebecauseIhavetheship’sloginfrontofmeasIwrite—witheverynookandcrannyloadedwithstoresandprovisions,wewereatlastreadytosetsailonourgrandadventure,ourgreatodyssey.

Grandmawastheretowaveusoff,tearfully.Intheendsheevenwantedtocomewithus,tovisitAustralia—she’dalwayswantedtoseekoalasinthe

wild.Therewerelotsofourfriendsthere,too,includingBarnacleBill.EddieDoddscame,alongwithhisfather.Hethrewmeasoccerballaswecastoff.“Luckymascot!”heshouted.WhenIlookeddownatitlaterIsawhe’dsignedhisnamealloveritlikeaWorldCupstar.

StellaArtoisbarkedherfarewellsatthem,andateveryboatwepassedinTheSolent.ButasweweresailingoutpasttheIsleofWight,shefellstrangelyquiet.Maybeshesensed,aswedid,thattherewasnoturningbacknow.Thiswasnotadream.Wewereoffaroundtheworld.Itwasreal,reallyreal.

Theysaythatwatercoverstwo-thirdsoftheearth’ssurface.Itcertainlylookslikethatwhenyou’reoutthere,anditfeelslikeit,too.Seawater,rainwater—allofitiswet.Ispentmostofthetimesoakedtothebone.Iworealltherightgear—theskipperalwaysmadesureofthat—butsomehowthewetstillgotthrough.

Downbelow,too,everythingwasdamp,eventhesleepingbags.Onlywhenthesunshoneandtheseahadstoppeditsheavingcouldwebegintodryout.Wewouldhauleverythingoutondeck,andsoonthePeggySuewouldbealldressedup,onegreatclotheslinefrombowtostern.Tobedryagainwasarealluxury,butwealwaysknewitcouldnotlastforlong.

Youmaythinktherewasnotalotforthreepeopletodoonboard,dayafterday,weekafterweek.You’dbequitewrong.Indaylighttherewasneveradullmoment.Iwasalwayskeptbusy:takinginsail,winchingin,lettingout,takingmyturnatthewheel—whichIloved—orhelpingmyfatherwithhisendlessmendingandfixing.Heoftenneededanotherpairofhandstoholdandsteadyashedrilledorhammeredorscrewedorsawed.I’dforeverbemoppingup,brewingup,washingup,dryingup.I’dbelyingifIsaidIloveditall.Ididn’t.Buttherewasneveradullmoment.

Onlyoneofthecrewwasallowedtobeidle—StellaArtois—andshewasalwaysidle.Withnothingmuchtobarkatoutontheopenocean,shespenttherougherdayscurleduponmybeddowninthecabin.Whenitwasfineandcalm,though,she’dusuallybefoundonwatchupatthebow,alertforsomething,anythingthatwasn’tjustwater.Youcouldbesurethatiftherewasanythingoutthere,she’dspotitsoonenough—anescortofporpoises,perhaps,divinginandoutofthewaves,afamilyofdolphinsswimmingalongside,soclosethatyoucouldreachoutandtouchthem.Whales,sharks,eventurtles—wesawthemall.Mymotherwouldbetakingphotographs,

videoandstill,whilemyfatherandIfoughtoverthebinoculars.ButStellaArtoiswasinherelement,apropersheepdogagain,barkinghercommandsatthecreaturesofthesea,herdingthemupfromthedeep.

Annoyingthoughshecouldbe—shewouldbringhersmellywetnesswithhereverywhere—weneveronceregrettedbringingheralongwithus.Shewasourgreatestcomfort.Whentheseatossedandchurnedus,andmymotherfeltlikedeathfromsea-sickness,she’dsitdownbelow,whitetothegills,withStellaonherlap,cuddlingandbeingcuddled.AndwhenIwasterrifiedbythemountainousseasandthescreamingwind,IwouldcurlupwithStellaonmybunk,burymyheadinherneck,andholdhertight.Attimeslikethat—andIdon’tsupposetheywerethatfrequent,it’sjustthatIrememberthemsovividly—IalwayskeptEddie’ssoccerballclosebesidemeaswell.

Thesoccerballhadbecomeasortoftalismanforme,aluckycharm,anditreallyseemedtowork,too.Afterall,everystormdidblowitselfoutintheendand,afterward,wewerealwaysstillthere,stillaliveandstillafloat.

Ihadhopedmymotherandfathermightforgetallabouttheplannedschoolwork.Andtobeginwith,itseemedasiftheyhad.Butoncewehadweatheredafewstorms,onceweweresettledandwellintoourvoyage,theysatmedownandtoldmetheunwelcomenews.Likeitornot,Iwasgoingtohavetokeepupwithmyschoolwork.Mymotherwasadamantaboutit.

Icouldseethatanyappealstomyfatherwouldbepointless.Hejustshruggedandsaid,“Mom’stheskipper.”Andthatwastheendofthematter.AtleastathomeshehadbeenmymotherandIcouldarguewithher,butnotonthePeggySue,notanymore.

Itwasaconspiracy.Betweenthem,theyhaddevisedanentireprogramofwork.Thereweremathbookstogetthrough—myfatherwouldhelpmewiththatifIgotstuck,hesaid.ForgeographyandhistoryIwastofindoutandrecordallIcouldabouteverycountrywevisitedaswewentaroundtheworld.ForenvironmentalstudiesandartIwastonotedownanddrawallthebirdswesaw,allthecreaturesandplantswecameacross.

Mymothermadeaparticularpointofteachingmenavigation,too.“BarnacleBilltaughtme,”shesaid,“I’mteachingyou.Iknowit’snotonthecurriculum,butsowhat?Itcouldcomeinhandy,youneverknow.”Shetaughtmehowtousethesextant,takecompassbearings,plotacourseonthe

chart.Ihadtofillinthelongitudeandlatitudeintheship’slog,everymorning,everyevening,withoutfail.

Idon’tthinkIhadeverreallynoticedstarsbefore.Now,wheneverIwasonwatchinthecockpitatnight,withthePeggySueonherwind-vaneself-steering,theothersasleepbelow,thestarswouldbemyonlycompany.GazingupatthemIfeltsometimesthatwewerethelastpeoplealiveonthewholeplanet.Therewasjustus,andthedarkseaaroundusandthemillionsofstarsabove.

ItwasonwatchatnightthatIwouldoftendomy“English”homework.Thiswasmyownversionoftheship’slog.Ididn’thavetoshowittothem,butIwasencouragedtowriteiniteveryfewweeks.Itwouldbe,theysaid,myownpersonal,privaterecordofourvoyage.

AtschoolIhadneverbeenmuchgoodatwriting.Icouldneverthinkofwhattowriteorhowtobegin.ButonthePeggySueIfoundIcouldopenupmylogandjustwrite.TherewasalwayssomuchIwantedtosay.Andthat’sthething.IfoundIdidn’treallywriteitdownatall.Rather,Isaidit.Ispokeitfrommyhead,downmyarm,throughmyfingersandmypencil,andontothepage.Andthat’showitreadstomenow,alltheseyearslater,likemetalking.

I’mlookingatmylognow.Thepaperisabitcrinkledandthepagesareyellowedwithage.Myscribblywritingisalittlefaded,butit’smostlyquitelegible.Whatfollowsarejustafewchosenextractsfromthislog.Theentriesarequiteshort,buttheytellthetale.ThisishowIrecordedourgreatjourney.Thisishowitwasforaneleven-year-oldboyaswerodethewideoceansoftheworldonboardthePeggySue.

September20It’sfiveinthemorning.I’monwatchinthecockpitandnooneelseis

awake.WeleftSouthamptontendaysagonow.TheChannelwasfulloftankers.Thereweredozensofthem.So,eitherMomorDadtookturnsonwatchthefirsttwonights.Theywouldn’tletme.Idon’tknowwhynot.Therewasn’tanyfog,andIcanseeaswellastheycan.

Wewereplanningonsailingabouttwohundredmilesaday—that’sabouteightknots.Butinthefirstweekwewereluckyifwemadefiftymilesaday.

BarnacleBillwarnedusabouttheBayofBiscay,sowewereexpectingittobebad,anditwas.Force9gale.Force10sometimes.Wewereslammedallovertheplace.Ithoughtwe’dsink.Ireallydid.Once,whenwecametothetopofawave,IsawthebowofthePeggySuepointingstraightupatthemoon.Itwaslikeshewasgoingtotakeoff.Thenwewerehurleddowntheothersidesofast,Iwassureweweregoingtothebottom.Itwasbad.Imean,itwashorrible,reallyhorrible.ButthePeggySuedidn’tfallapart,andwemadeittoSpain.

Momgetsquitesnappywithussometimeswhenwedon’tdothingsright.Daddoesn’tseemtomind,notouthere,notatsea.Hejustwinksatmeandweforgetaboutit.Theyplayalotofchesstogether,whenit’scalmenough.Dad’swinningsofar,fivegamestothree.Momsaysitdoesn’tbotherher,butitdoes.Icantell.

WeonlyspentacoupleofdaysinLaCoruña.Momsleptalot.Shewasreallytired.Daddidsomeworkontheruddercablewhilewewerethere.He’sstillnothappywithit,though.WesetofffortheAzorestwodaysago.

Yesterdaywasthebestdaywe’vehadforsailing.Strongbreeze,bluesky,andwarmsuntodrythingsout.Myblueshortsblewofftheclotheslineintothesea.Itdoesn’tmatter.Ineverlikedthemmuch,anyway.Wesawgannetsslicingintotheseaallaroundusthisafternoon.Reallyexcellent.StellaArtois

wentcrazy.I’msickofbakedbeansalready,andthere’sstillstacksofthemdown

below.

***

October11TodayIsawAfrica!Itwasinthedistance,butMomsaiditwasdefinitely

Africa.We’regoingdownthewestcoast.Momshowedmeonthechart.Thewindwilltakeusdownthecoastforafewhundredmiles,thenacrosstheAtlantictoSouthAmerica.Wemustn’tdriftoffcourse,orelsewe’llgetintotheDoldrums.There’snowindthereatall,andwecouldjustsittherebecalmedforweeks,maybeforever.

It’sthehottestdaywe’vehad.Dad’sveryredintheface,andthetopsofhisearsarepeeling.I’mmorenuttybrown,likeMom.

SawflyingfishearlythismorningandsodidStella.ThenMomspottedasharkofftheportbow.Abaskingshark,shethought.Igotthebinocularsout,butIneversawit.ShesaidIhadtowriteitdowninmynotebook,anyway,andthendrawit.Ilookedthemup.They’remassive,buttheydon’teatpeople,justfishandplankton.Ilikedoingmydrawings.Mybestonesofarisaflyingfish.

IsentacardtoEddiefromtheCapeVerdeIslands.Iwishhecouldbehere.We’dhaveagreattime.

Stellalovestochasethesoccerballaroundthecabinandpounceonit.She’llpunctureitoneday,Iknowshewill.

Dad’sbeenabitgloomy,andMom’sgonetoliedown.She’sgotaheadache.Ithinkthey’vehadabitofatiff.Don’tknowwhatabout,exactly,butIthinkit’saboutchess.

***

November16We’vejustleftRecife.That’sinBrazil.Weweretherefourdays.Wehada

lotofrepairstodoontheboat.Somethingwaswrongwiththewindgenerator,andtheruddercable’sstillsticking.

I’veplayedsoccerinBrazil!Didyouhearthat,Eddie?I’veplayedsoccerinBrazil,andwithyourluckyball.Dadandmewerejustkickingitaroundon

thebeach,andbeforeweknewitwehadadozenkidsjoiningin.Itwasapropergame.Dadsetitup.Wepickedsides.IcalledmysideMudlarksandhecalledhisBrazil,sotheyallwantedtoplayonhisside,ofcourse.

ButMomjoinedinonmysideandwewon.Mudlarks5—Brazil3.MominvitedthembackforaCokeonboardafterward.Stellagrowledatthemandbaredherteeth,sowehadtoshutherdowninthecabin.TheytriedouttheirEnglishonus.Theyonlyknewtwowords:“Goal”and“ManchesterUnited.”That’sthree,Isuppose.

Momhadherfilmdeveloped.There’sapictureofsomeleapingdolphins,anotherofmeatthewinch.There’soneofMomatthewheel,anotherofDadhaulingdownthemainsailandmakingamessofit.There’soneofmedivingoffarockintotheseawhenwestoppedintheCanaries.There’soneofDadfastasleepandsunbathingondeckandMomgiggling.She’sabouttodribblethesunblockalloverhistummy.(Itookthatone,mybestphoto.)Thenthere’soneofmedoingmymath,sulkingandstickingmytongueout.

***

December25ChristmasDayatsea.Dadfoundsomecarolsontheradio.Wehad

crackers,allofthemabitsoggysononeofthemcracked,andwehadtheChristmaspuddingGranmadeforus.Igavethemadrawingeach—myflyingfish,forDad,andoneoftheskipper,inherhat,atthewheel,forMom.Theygavemeareallycoolknifethey’dboughtinRio.SoIgaveacoinback.You’resupposedtodothat.It’sforluck.

WhenwewereinRiowegavethePeggySueagoodscrubdown.Shewaslookingabitgrossinsideandoutside,butshe’snotanymore.WepackedupalotofsuppliesandwaterforthelonghaultoSouthAfrica.Momsayswe’redoingfine,justsolongaswekeepsouth,solongaswestayinthewest-to-eastSouthAtlanticcurrent.

WepassedsouthofanislandcalledSt.Helenaafewdaysago.Noneedtostop.Nothingmuchthere,exceptit’stheplacewhereNapoléonwasexiled.Hediedthere.Lonelyplacetodie.So,ofcourse,IhadtodoahistoryprojectonNapoléon.Ihadtolookhimupintheencyclopediaandwriteabouthim.Itwasquiteinteresting,really,butIdidn’ttellthemthat.

Stella’ssulkingonmybunk.Maybeit’sbecausenoonegavehera

Christmaspresent.IofferedheratasteofGran’sChristmaspudding,butshehardlygaveitasniff.Can’tsayIblameher.

Isawasailtoday,anotheryacht.WeshoutedMerryChristmasandwaved,andStellabarkedherheadoff,buttheyweretoofaraway.Whenthesaildisappeared,theseafeltsuddenlyveryempty.

Momwonthechessgamethisevening.She’saheadnow,twenty-onegamestotwenty.DadsaidheletherwinbecauseitwasChristmas.Theyjokeaboutit,buttheybothwanttowin.

***

January1Africaagain!CapeTown.TableMountain.Andthistimewe’renotjust

sailingby—we’regoingtostopforawhile.Theytoldmethisevening.Theydidn’twanttotellmebefore,incasewecouldn’taffordit,butwecan.We’regoingtostayforacoupleofweeks,maybemore.We’regoingtoseeelephantsandlionsinthewild.Ican’tbelieveit.Idon’tthinktheycan,either.Whentheytoldme,theywerelikeacoupleofkids,alllaughingandhappy.Theywereneverlikethisathome.Thesedaystheyreallysmileateachother.

Mom’sgettingstomachcramps.DadwantshertoseeadoctorinCapeTown,butshewon’t.Ireckonit’sthebakedbeans.Thegoodnewsisthebakedbeanshaveatlastrunout.Thebadnewsiswehadsardinesforsupper.Yuck!

***

February7We’rehundredsofmilesoutintheIndianOcean,andthenthishappens.

Stellahardlyevercomesupondeckunlessit’sflatcalm.Idon’tknowwhyshecameup.Idon’tknowwhyshewasthere.Wewereallbusy,Isuppose.Dadwasdowninthegalley,andMomwasatthewheel.Iwasdoingoneofmynavigationlessons,takingbearingswiththesextant.ThePeggySuewaspitchingandrollingabit.Ihadtosteadymyself.IlookedupandIsawStellaupatthebowoftheboat.Onemomentshewasjuststandingthere,thenextshewasgone.

Wehadpracticedthe“manoverboard”drilldozensoftimesbackinTheSolentwithBarnacleBill.Shoutandpoint.Keepshouting.Keeppointing.Turnintothewind.Getthesailsdownquick.Engineon.BythetimeDadhad

themainsailandthejibdown,wewerealreadyheadingbacktowardher.Iwasdoingthepointing,andtheshouting,too.Shewaspaddlingforherlifeinthegreenofaloomingwave.Dadwasleaningoverthesideandreachingforher,buthedidn’thavehissafetyharnesson,andMomwasgoingcrazy.Shewastryingtobringtheboatinascloseandasslowasshecould,butawavetookStellaawayfromusatthelastmoment.Wehadtoturnandcomebackagain.AllthetimeIwaspointingandshouting.

Threetimeswecamein,buteachtimewepassedherby.Eitherweweregoingtoofastorshewasoutofreach.Shewasweakbynow.Shewashardlypaddling.Shewasgoingunder.Wehadonelastchance.Wecameinagain,perfectlythistimeandcloseenoughforDadtobeabletoreachoutandgrabher.AmongthethreeofuswemanagedtohaulStellabackintotheboatbyhercollar,byhertail.Igota,“Welldone,monkeyface,”fromDad,andDadgotahugelecturefromMomfornotwearinghissafetyharness.Dadjustputhisarmsaroundherandshecried.Stellashookherselfandwentbelowasifnothingatallhadhappened.

Momhasmadeastrictrule:StellaArtoisisnevertogooutondeck—whatevertheweather—withoutasafetyharnessclippedon,liketherestofus.Dad’sgoingtomakeoneforher.

IstilldreamoftheelephantsinSouthAfrica.Ilovedhowslowtheyare,andthoughtful.Ilovedtheirwise,weepyeyes.Icanstillseethosesnootygiraffeslookingdownatme,andthelioncubsleepingwithhismother’stailinhismouth.IdidlotsofdrawingsandIkeeplookingatthemtoremindme.ThesuninAfricaissobig,sored.

Australianext.Kangaroosandpossumsandwombats.UncleJohn’sgoingtomeetusinPerth.I’veseenphotosofhimbutI’venevermethim.Dadsaidthiseveninghe’sonlyadistantuncle.“Verydistant,”Momsaid,andtheybothlaughed.Ididn’tgetthejoketillIthoughtaboutitagainwhenIcameonwatch.

Thestarsaresobright,andStellawassaved.IthinkI’mhappierthanIhaveeverbeeninmylife.

***

April3OffPerth,Australia.Untiltodayithasbeennothingbutemptyoceanall

thewayfromAfrica.Iloveitmoreandmorewhenit’sjustusandPeggySueandthesea.Wealldo,Ithink.Butthen,whenwesightland,wealwaysgetsoexcited.WhenwesawAustraliaforthefirsttime,wehuggedoneanotherandjumpedupanddown.It’slikewe’rethefirstsailorsevertodiscoverit.StellaArtoisbarkedatusasifwewerecrazyasloons,whichweprobablyare.Butwe’vedoneit.We’vesailedallthewayfromEnglandtoAustralia.That’shalfwayaroundtheworld.Andwediditonourown.

Mom’sbeengettingherstomachcrampsagain.She’sdefinitelygoingtoseeadoctorinAustralia.She’spromisedus,andwe’llmakeherkeeptoit.

***

May28AtseaagainafternearlysixweekswithUncleJohn.Wethoughtwewere

goingtostayinPerthforjustafewdays,buthesaidwehadtoseeAustraliaproperlywhilewewerethere.Hetookustostaywithhisfamilyonahugefarm.Thousandsofsheep.He’sgottonsofhorses,soIwentridingalotwithmytwolittlecousins,BethandLiza.They’reonlysevenandeight,buttheycouldreallyride.TheycalledmeMikey,andbythetimewelefttheybothwantedtomarryme.We’regoingtobepenpalsinstead.

Isawasnakecalledacopperhead.UncleJohnsaiditcouldhavekilledmeifI’dsteppedonit.HetoldmetowatchoutforRedbackspidersinthebathroom.Ididn’tgotothebathroomveryoftenafterthat.

Theycalledustheir“pommycousins”andwehadbarbecueseveryevening.Wehadagreattimewiththem.ButIwashappytogetbacktothePeggySue.ImissedherwhileIwasgone,likeImissEddie.I’vebeensendinghimcards,funnyanimalcards,ifIcanfindthem.Isenthimoneofawombat.Isawawombattoo,andhundredsofpossumsandtonsofkangaroos.Andthey’vegotwhitecockatoosinAustralialikewe’vegotsparrowsathome—millionsofthem.

Butouthereit’sgullsagain.Whereverwe’vebeenintheworldthere’salwaysgulls.Theplaniswe’regoingtostopinSydney,exploretheGreatBarrierReefforabit,thengothroughtheCoralSeaanduptowardPapuaNewGuinea.

Mom’sstomachcrampsaremuchbetter.ThedoctorinAustraliasaidthatitwasmostprobablysomethingshe’deaten.Anyway,she’sbetternow.

It’sreallyhotandheavy.It’scalmtoo.Nowind.We’rehardlymoving.Ican’tseeanyclouds,butI’msureastormiscoming.Icanfeelit.

***

July28Ilookaroundme.It’sadark,darknight.Nomoon.Nostars.Butit’scalm

again,atlast.I’llbetwelvetomorrow,butIdon’tthinkanyoneexceptmewillrememberit.

We’vehadaterribletime,farworseeventhanintheBayofBiscay.EversinceweleftSydney,it’sbeenjuststormafterstorm,andeachoneblowsusfarthernorthacrosstheCoralSea.Theruddercablehassnapped.Dad’sdonewhathecan,butit’sstillnotright.Theself-steeringdoesn’tworkanymore,sosomeone’sgottobeatthewheelallthetime.AndthatmeansDadorme,becauseMomissick.It’sherstomachcrampsagain,butthey’realotworse.Shedoesn’twanttoeatatall.Allshehasissugaredwater.Shehasn’tbeenabletolookatthechartsforthreedays.DadwantstoputoutaMaydaycall,butMomwon’tlethim.Shesaysthat’sgivingin,andshe’snevergivingin.DadandIhavebeendoingthenavigationtogether.We’vebeendoingourbest,butIdon’tthinkweknowwhereweareanymore.

They’rebothasleepdownbelow.Dad’sreallywipedout.I’matthewheelinthecockpit.I’vegotEddie’ssoccerballwithme.It’sbeenluckyforussofar.Andnowwereallyneedit.WeneedMomtogetbetter,orwe’reinrealtrouble.Idon’tknowifwecouldstandanotherstorm.

ThankGodit’scalm.It’llhelpMomsleep.Youcan’tsleepwhenyou’rebeingslammedaboutallthetime.

Itissodarkoutthere.Black.Stella’sbarking.She’supbythebow.Shehasn’tgotherharnessclippedon.

***

ThosewerethelastwordsIeverwroteinmylog.Afterthatit’sjustemptypages.

ItriedcallingStellafirst,butshewouldn’tcome.SoIleftthewheelandwentforwardtobringherback.Itooktheballwithmetosweetenherin,totemptherawayfromthebowoftheboat.

Icroucheddown.“Comeon,Stella,”Isaid,rollingtheballfromhandto

hand.“Comeandgettheball.”Ifelttheboatturnalittleinthewind,andIknewthenIshouldn’thaveleftthewheel.Theballrolledawayfrommequitesuddenly.Ilungedafterit,butitwasgoneoverthesidebeforeIcouldgrabit.Ilaythereonthedeckwatchingitbobawayintothedarkness.Iwasfuriouswithmyselfforbeingsostupid.

IwasstillcursingmyselfwhenIthoughtIheardthesoundofsinging.Someonewassingingoutthereinthedarkness.Icalledout,butnoonereplied.SothatwaswhatStellahadbeenbarkingat.

Ilookedagainformyball,butbynowithaddisappeared.Thatballhadbeenveryprecioustome,precioustoallofus.IknewthenIhadjustlostagreatdealmorethanasoccerball.

IwasangrywithStella.Thewholethinghadbeenherfault.Shewasstillbarking.Icouldn’thearthesinginganymore.Icalledheragain,whistledherin.Shewouldn’tcome.Igottomyfeetandwentforward.Itookherbythecollarandpulled.Shewouldnotbemoved.Icouldn’tdragherallthewayback,soIbentdowntopickherup.Shewasstillreluctant.ThenIhadherinmyarms,butshewasstruggling.

Iheardthewindabovemeinthesails.Irememberthinking:Thisissilly,youhaven’tgotyoursafetyharnesson,youhaven’tgotyourlifejacketon,youshouldn’tbedoingthis.ThentheboatveeredviolentlyandIwasthrownsideways.WithmyarmsfullIhadnotimetograbtheguardrail.WewereinthecoldoftheseabeforeIcouldevenopenmymouthtoscream.

Theterrorscamefast,oneuponanother.ThelightsofthePeggySuewentawayintothedarkofthenight,leavingmealoneintheocean,alonewiththecertaintythattheywerealreadytoofaraway,thatmycriesforhelpcouldnotpossiblybeheard.Ithoughtthenofthesharkscruisingtheblackwaterbeneathme—scentingme,alreadysearchingmeout,hominginonme—andIknewtherecouldbenohope.Iwouldbeeatenalive.EitherthatorIwoulddrownslowly.Nothingcouldsaveme.

Itrodwater,franticallysearchingtheimpenetrabledarknessaboutmeforsomething,anythingtoswimtoward.Therewasnothing.

Thenasuddenglimpseofwhiteinthesea.Thebreakingofawave,perhaps.Buttherewerenowaves.Stella!Ithadtobe.Iwassothankful,sorelievednottobeallalone.Icalledoutandswamtowardher.Shewouldkeepbobbingawayfromme,vanishing,reappearing,thenvanishingagain.Shehadseemedsonear,butittookseveralminutesofhardswimmingbeforeIcamecloseenoughtoreachoutandtouchher.OnlythendidIrealizemymistake.Stella’sheadwasmostlyblack.Thiswaswhite.Itwasmyball.Igrabbeditandclungon,feelingtheunexpectedandwonderfulbuoyancyofit.Iheldon,treadingwaterandcallingforStella.Therewasnoanswer.IcalledandIcalled.ButeverytimeIopenedmymouthnow,theseawaterwashedin.Ihadtogiveherup.IhadtosavemyselfifIcould.

Therewaslittlepointinwastingenergybytryingtoswim.Afterall,Ihadnowheretoswimto.Instead,Iwouldsimplyfloat.Iwouldclingtomysoccerball,treadwatergently,andwaitforthePeggySuetocomeback.SoonerorlatertheyhadtodiscoverIwasoverboard.Soonerorlatertheywouldcomelookingforme.Imustn’tkicktoomuch,justenoughtokeepmychinabovethewater,nomore.Toomuchmovementwouldattractthesharks.Morning

mustcomesoon.Ihadtohangontillthen.Ihadto.Thewaterwasn’tthatcold.Ihadmyball.Ihadachance.

Ikepttellingmyselfthatoverandoveragain.Buttheworldstayedstubbornlyblackaroundme,andIcouldfeelthewaterslowlychillingmetodeath.Itriedsingingtostopmyselffromshivering,totakemymindoffthesharks.IsangeverysongIcouldremember,butafterawhileI’dforgetthewords.AlwaysIcamebacktotheonlysongIwassureIcouldfinish:“TenGreenBottles.”Isangitoutloudagainandagain.Itreassuredmetohearthesoundofmyownvoice.Itmademefeellessaloneinthesea.AndalwaysIlookedforthegrayglintofdawn,butitwouldnotcomeanditwouldnotcome.

EventuallyIfellsilentandmylegsjustwouldnotkickanymore.Iclungtomyball,myheaddriftingintosleep.IknewImustn’t,butIcouldn’thelpmyself.Myhandskeptslippingofftheball.Iwasfastlosingthelastofmystrength.Iwouldgodown,downtothebottomofthesea,andlieinmygraveamongsttheseaweedandthesailors’bonesandtheshipwrecks.

ThestrangethingwasthatIdidn’treallymind.Ididn’tcare,notanymore.Ifloatedawayintosleep,intomydreams.AndinmydreamIsawaboatglidingtowardme,silentoverthesea.ThePeggySue!Dear,dearPeggySue.Theyhadcomebackforme.Iknewtheywould.Strongarmsgrabbedme.Iwashauledupwardandoutofthewater.Ilaythereonthedeck,gaspingforairlikeabeachedfish.

Someonewasbendingoverme,shakingme,talkingtome.Icouldnotunderstandawordthatwasbeingsaid.Butitdidn’tmatter.IfeltStella’shotbreathonmyface,hertonguelickingmyear.Shewassafe.Iwassafe.Allwaswell.

Iwaswokenbyahowling,likethehowlingofagalethroughthemasts.Ilookedaboutme.Therewerenomastsaboveme,therewerenosails.Nomovementunderme,either,nobreathofwind.StellaArtoiswasbarking,butsomewayoff.Iwasnotonaboatatall,butlyingstretchedoutonsand.Thehowlingbecameascreaming,afearfulcrescendoofscreechingthatdiedawayinitsownechoes.

Isatup.Iwasonabeach,abroadwhitesweepofsand,withtreesgrowingthickandlushbehindmerightdowntothebeach.ThenIsawStellaprancingaboutintheshallows.Icalledherandshecameboundingupoutof

theseatogreetme,hertailcirclingwildly.Whenalltheleapingandlickingandhuggingweredone,Istruggledtomyfeet.

Iwasweakallover.Ilookedallaroundme.Thewideblueseawasasemptyasthecloudlessskyabove.NoPeggySue.Noboat.Nothing.Noone.Icalledagainandagainformymotherandmyfather.IcalleduntilthetearscameandIcouldcallnomore,untilIknewtherewasnopoint.IstoodthereforsometimetryingtoworkouthowIhadgothere,howitwasthatI’dsurvived.Ihadsuchconfusedmemories,ofbeingpickedup,orbeingonboardthePeggySue.ButIknewnowIcouldn’thavebeen.Imusthavedreamedit,dreamedthewholething.ImusthaveclungtomysoccerballandkeptmyselfafloatuntilIwaswashedup.Ithoughtofmyballthen,butitwasnowheretobeseen.

Stella,ofcourse,wasunconcernedaboutallthewhysandwherefores.Shekeptbringingmestickstothrow,andwouldgogallopingafterthemintotheseawithoutacareintheworld.

Thencamethehowlingagainfromthetrees,andthehackleswentuponStella’sneck.Shechargedupthebeachbarkingandbarking,untilshewassureshehadsilencedthelastoftheechoes.Itwasamusical,plaintivehowlingthistime,notatallmenacing.IthoughtIrecognizedit.IhadheardhowlinglikeitoncebeforeonavisittotheLondonZoo.Gibbons,“funkygibbons,”myfatherhadcalledthem.Istilldon’tknowwhytothisday.ButIlovedthesoundoftheword“funky.”PerhapsthatwaswhyIrememberedwhattheywere.“It’sonlygibbons,”ItoldStella,“justfunkygibbons.Theywon’thurtus.”ButIcouldn’tbeatallsureIwasright.

FromwhereInowstoodIcouldseethattheforestgrewmoresparselyupthesideofagreathillsomewayinland,anditoccurredtomethenthatifIcouldreachthebarerockyoutcropatthesummit,Iwouldbeabletoseefartherouttosea.Orperhapsthere’dbesomehouseorfarmfartherinland,ormaybearoad,andIcouldfindsomeonetohelp.ButifIleftthebeachandtheycamebacklookingforme,whatthen?IdecidedIwouldhavetotakethatchance.

Isetoffatarun,StellaArtoisatmyheels,andsoonfoundmyselfinthecoolingshadeoftheforest.Idiscoveredanarrowtrackgoinguphill,intherightdirection,Ithought.SoIfollowedit,onlyslowingtoawalkwhenthehillbecametoosteep.Theforestwasalivewithcreatures.Birdscackledand

screechedhighaboveme,andalwaysthehowlingwailedandwaftedthroughthetrees,butmoredistantlynow.

Itwasn’tthesoundsoftheforestthatbotheredme,though,itwastheeyes.IfeltasifIwerebeingwatchedbyathousandinquisitiveeyes.IthinkStelladid,too,forshehadbeenstrangelyquieteversincewehadenteredtheforest,constantlyglancingupatmeforreassuranceandcomfort.Ididmybesttogiveit,butshecouldsensethatI,too,wasfrightened.

Whathadseemedatfirsttobeashorthikenowfeltmorelikeagreatexpeditionintotheinterior.Weemergedexhaustedfromthetrees,clamberedlaboriouslyuparockyscree,andstoodatlonglastonthepeak.

Thesunwasblazingdown.Ihadnotreallyfelttheburningheatofituntilthen.Iscannedthehorizon.Iftherewasasailsomewhereoutthereinthehaze,Icouldnotseeit.AndthenitcametomethatevenifIweretoseeasail,whatcouldIdo?Icouldn’tlightafire.Ihadnomatches.Iknewaboutcavemenrubbingstickstogether,butIhadnevertriedit.Ilookedallroundmenow.Sea.Sea.Sea.Nothingbutseaonallsides.Iwasonanisland.Iwasalone.

Theislandlookedperhapstwoorthreemilesinlength,nomore.Itwasshapedabitlikeanelongatedpeanut,butlongeratoneendthantheother.Therewasalongswathofbrilliantwhitebeachonbothsidesoftheisland,andatthefarendanotherhill,theslopessteeperandmorethicklywooded,butnotsohighasmine.Withtheexceptionofthesetwinpeakstheentireislandseemedtobecoveredwithforest.SofarasIcouldseetherewasnosignofanyhumanlife.Eventhen,asIstoodthere,thatfirstmorning,filledwithapprehensionattheterrifyingimplicationsofmydreadfulsituation,Irememberthinkinghowwonderfulitwas,agreenjewelofanislandframedinwhite,theseaallarounditasilkenshimmeringblue.Strangely,perhapscomfortedsomehowbytheextraordinarybeautyoftheplace,Iwasnotatalldownhearted.OnthecontraryIfeltstrangelyelated.Iwasalive.StellaArtoiswasalive.Wehadsurvived.

Isatdownintheshadowofagreatrock.Thegibbonssetuparenewedchorusofhowlingandhootingintheforest,andaflockofraucousbirdsclatteredupoutofthecanopyofthetreesbelowusandflewoffacrosstheislandtosettleinthetreesonthehillsideopposite.

“We’llbeallright,”ItoldStella.“MomandDad,they’llcomebackfor

us.They’reboundto.Theywill.Theywill.Mom’llgetbetterandthey’llcomeback.Shewon’tleaveushere.She’llfindus,you’llsee.Allwe’vegottodoiskeepalookoutforthem—andstayalive.Water,we’llneedwater.Butsodothosemonkeys,right?We’vejustgottofindit,that’sall.Andtheremustbefood,too—fruitornuts,something.Whateveritisthattheyeat,we’lleat.”

IthelpedtospeakmythoughtsoutloudtoStella,helpedtocalmthepanicthatcameovermenowinwaves.Morethananything,itwasStella’scompanionshipthathelpedmethroughthosefirsthoursontheisland.

Itseemedtomakesensenottoplungeatonceintotheforestlookingforwater—tobehonest,Iwastoofrightened,anyway—butrathertoexploretheshorelinefirst.Imightcomeacrossastreamorriverflowingoutintotheseaand,withabitofluck,onthewayImightfindsomethingIcouldeataswell.

Isetoffingoodspirits,leapingdownthescreelikeamountaingoat.Wheremonkeyslived,Ireasoned,wecouldlive.Ikepttellingmyselfthat.Isoondiscoveredthatthetrackdownthroughthetreeswasbereftofallediblevegetation.Ididseefruitsofsorts,whatlookedtomelikefruit,anyway.Therewerecoconutsupthere,too,butthetreeswereallimpossibletoclimb.Someroseahundredfeet,sometwohundredfeetfromtheforestfloor—Ihadneverseensuchgianttrees.

Atleasttheintertwiningcanopydidprovidewelcomerelieffromtheheatoftheday.Allthesame,Iwasbecomingdesperatelythirstynow,andsowasStella.Shepaddedalongsidemealltheway,hertonguehanging.Shekeptgivingmebalefullookswheneveroureyesmet.TherewasnocomfortIcouldgiveher.

Wefoundourbeachonceagainandsetoffaroundtheisland,keepingwhereverpossibletotheedgeoftheforest,totheshade.Still,wefoundnostream.Again,Isawplentyoffruit,butalwaystoohigh,andthetreeswerealwaystoosmooth,toosheertoclimb.Ifoundplentyofcoconutsontheground,butalwayscrackedopenandemptyinside.

Whenthebeachpeteredout,wehadtostrikeoffintotheforestitself.Here,too,Ifoundanarrowtracktofollow.Theforestbecameimpenetrableatthispoint,darkandmenacing.Therewasnohowlinganymore,butsomethinginfinitelymoresinister:theshiverofleaves,thecrackingoftwigs,sudden

surreptitiousrustlings,andtheywerenearme,allaroundme.Iknew,Iwasquitesurenow,thateyeswerewatchingus.Wewerebeingfollowed.

Ihurriedon,swallowingmyfearasbestIcould.IthoughtofthegibbonsIhadseenbackinthezooandtriedtopersuademyselfhowharmlesstheyhadlooked.They’dleaveusalone,they’dneverattackus.Theyweren’tman-eaters.Butastherustlingscameevercloser,evermorethreatening,Ifounditharderandhardertoconvincemyself.Ibegantorun,andIkeptrunninguntilthetrackbroughtusoutontorocks,intotheblessedlightofday,andtherewastheseaagain.

Thisendoftheislandappearedtobelitteredwithmassivebouldersthatlayliketumbledcliffsallalongthecoast.Weleapedfromonetotheother,andallthewhileIkeptakeeneyeoutforthetrickleofastreamcomingdownthroughtherocksfromtheforestabove,butIfoundnone.

Iwasexhaustedbynow.Isatdowntorest,mymouthdry,myheadthrobbing.Iwasrackedwithdesperatethoughts.Iwoulddieofthirst.Iwouldbetornlimbfromlimbbythemonkeys.

Stella’seyeslookedupintomine.“There’sgottobewater,”Itoldher.“There’sgottobe.”So,saidhereyes,whatareyoudoingsittingherefeelingsorryforyourself?

Iforcedmyselftomyfeetandwenton.Thesea-waterintherockpoolswassocool,sotempting.Itastedit,butitwassaltyandbrackish.Ispatitoutatonce.Youwentcrazyifyoudrankit.Iknewthatmuch.

Thesunwasalreadylowintheskybythetimewereachedthebeachontheothersideoftheisland—wewereonlyabouthalfwayaround,bymyreckoning.Thisplacewassomuchbiggerthanithadseemedfromhighuponthehillthatmorning.Despiteallmysearching,Ihadfoundnowater,nothingtoeat.Icouldgonofarther,andneithercouldStella.Shelaystretchedoutbesidemeonthesand,pantingherheartout.Wewouldhavetostaywherewewereforthenight.Ithoughtofgoingintotheforestalittlewaystosleeponthegroundunderthetrees—Icouldmakeanestofsoft,deadleaves,thejunglefloorwasthickwiththem—butIdarednotventurein,notwiththeshadowofnightfallingfastovertheisland.

Thehowlinghadstartedupagainfarawayintheforest,alastmellifluousevensong,achantingthatwentonandonuntildarknesscoveredtheisland.Insects(thatis,whatIpresumedtheywere,anyway)whirredandwhined

fromtheforest.Therewashollowtapping,likeafranticwoodpecker.Therewasscraping,scratching,andagruntinggratingnoisethatsoundedlikefrogs.Thewholeorchestraofthejunglewastuningup.Butitwasn’tthesoundsthatfrightenedme,itwasthosephantomeyes.Iwantedtobeasfaraspossiblefromthoseeyes.Ifoundasmallcaveatoneendofthebeachwithadry,sandyfloor.Ilaydownandtriedtosleep,butStellawouldnotletme.Shewhinedatmeinthepainofherhungerandthirst,sothatIsleptonlyfitfully.

Thejungledronedandcackledandcroaked,andallnightlongthemosquitoeswereatme,too.Theywhinedinmyearsanddrovemecrazy.Iheldmyhandsovermyearstoshutoutthesoundofthem.IcurledmyselfaroundStella,triedtoforgetwhereIwas,tolosemyselfinmydreams.Irememberedthenthatitwasmybirthday,andthoughtofmylastbirthdaybackathomewithEddieandMatt,andthebarbecuewe’dhadinthegarden,howthehotdogshadsmelledsogood.Isleptatlast.

ThenextmorningIwokecoldandhungryandshivering,andbittenallover.IttookmesomemomentstorememberwhereIwas,andallthathadhappenedtome.Iwassuddenlyoverwhelmedbyonecruelrealityafteranother:myutteraloneness,myseparationfrommymotherandfather,andthedangersallaroundme.

Icriedaloudinmymisery,untilIsawthatStellawasgone.Iranoutofthecave.Shewasnowheretobeseen.Icalledforher.Ilistenedforher,butonlythegibbonshowledinreply.ThenIturnedandsawher.Shewasupontherockshighabovemycave,halfhiddenfromme,butevensoIcouldseethatherheadwasdown.Shewasclearlyintentonsomething.Iclambereduptofindoutwhatitwas.

IheardherdrinkingbeforeIgotthere,lappingrhythmically,noisily,asshealwaysdid.ShedidnotevenlookupasIapproached.ThatwaswhenIsawthatshewasdrinkingfromabowl,abatteredtinbowl.ThenInoticedsomethingstrangeuponaflatshelfofrockaboveher.

IleftStellatoherwaterfeastandclimbedupfarthertoinvestigate.Anotherbowlofwaterand,besideit,palmleaveslaidoutontherockandhalfcoveredbyanupside-downtin.Isatdownanddrankthewaterwithoutpauseforbreath.Waterhadnevertastedsowonderfultomeasitdidthen.Stillgasping,Iliftedthetin.Fish!Thinstripsoftranslucentwhitefish,dozensofthem,laidoutneatlyinrowsonthepalmleaves,andfive,six,sevensmall

redbananas.Redbananas!Iatethefishfirst,savoringeachpreciousstrip.ButevenasIateIwas

lookingaroundme,lookingforatelltaletremblingofleavesattheedgeoftheforest,orforatrailoffootprintsinthesand.Icouldseenone.Yetsomeonehadbroughtthistome.Someonemustbethere,someonemustbewatchingme.Iwasn’tsurewhethertobefearfulatthisrevelationoroverjoyed.

Stellainterruptedmythoughts.Shewaswhimperingpitifullyatmefromtherockbelow,andIknewitwasn’tloveorcomfortshewasafter.ShecaughteverystripoffishIthrewher,gobbleditinonegulp,andwaitedforthenext,headononeside,oneearpricked.Afterthatitwasoneforme,oneforher.Herbeseechingeyeswouldnotletmedootherwise.

Thefishwasraw,butIdidnotmind.Iwastoohungrytomind,andsowasStella.Ikepttheredbananasalltomyself.Iateeverysingleoneofthem.Theyweren’tatalllikebananasbackhome,butmuchsweeter,muchjuicier,muchmoredelicious.Icouldhaveeatenadozenmore.

OnceIhadfinishedIstoodupandscannedtheforest.Mybenefactor,whoeverheorshewas,hadtobesomewherecloseby.IwassureIhadnothingtofear.Ihadtomakesomekindofcontact.Iputmyhandstomymouthandcalledoutagainandagain:“Thankyou!Thankyou!Thankyou!”Mywordsechoedaroundtheisland.Suddenlytheforestwasaliveagainwithnoise,agreatcacophonyofsingingandhootingandhowlingandcawingandcroaking.Stellabarkedwildlybackatit.Asforme,Ifeltsuddenlyexhilarated,elated,ecstaticallyhappy.Ijumpedupanddownlaughingandlaughing,untilmylaughterturnedtotearsofjoy.Iwasnotaloneonthisisland!Whoeverwasheremustbefriendly.Whyelsewouldtheyhavefedus?Butwhywouldn’ttheyshowthemselves?

Theywouldhavetocomebackforthebowls,Ithought.Iwouldleaveamessage.Ifoundasharpstone,kneltdown,andscrapedoutmymessageontherockbesidethebowls:Thankyou.MynameisMichael.Ifelloffaboat.Whoareyou?

Afterthat,Ideterminedtoremainonthebeachallthatday,andstayclosetomycaveandtherockabovewherethefishhadbeenleftforus.Iwouldkeepitalwaysinsight,sothatIwouldatleastbeabletoseewhoitwaswhohadhelpedme.

Stellaranonaheadofmedownintothesea,barkingatme,invitingmeto

joinher.Ididn’tneedanypersuading.Iplungedandcavortedandwhoopedandsplashed,butthroughallmyanticsshejustcruisedsteadilyon.Shealwayslookedsoseriouswhensheswam,chinupandpaddlingpurposefully.

Theseawasbalmyandcalm,barelyarippleofwavetobeseen.Ididn’tdaregoovermyhead—I’dhadquiteenoughofthatforalifetime.Icameoutcleanandrefreshedandinvigorated,anewperson.Theseawasagreathealer.Mybiteswerestillthere,buttheydidnotburnanymore.

IdecidedIwouldexplorefartheralongthebeach—righttotheendifIcould—justsolongasIcouldkeepmycaveinviewallthetime.Therewereshellshere,millionsofthem,goldenandpink,thrownupinlonglinesallalongthebeach.BeforelongIcameacrosswhatseemedatsomedistanceawaytobeaflatwedgeofrockprotrudingonlyveryslightlyfromthesand.Stellawasscrabblingexcitedlyattheedgeofit.Itturnedoutnottobearockatallbutalongsheetofrustedmetal—clearlyallthatwasleftofthesideofaship’shull,nowsunkdeepinthesand.Iwonderedwhatshipitwas,howlongagoshehadbeenwrecked.Hadsometerriblestormdrivenherontotheisland?Hadtherebeenanysurvivors?Couldanyofthemstillbehere?Ikneltdowninthesandandranmyhandalongit.Inoticedthenafragmentofclearglasslyinginthesandnearby,fromabottleperhaps.Itwashottotouch,toohottohandle.

Itcametomeinaflash.Eddiehadshownmehowtodoit.We’dtrieditintheplaygroundatschool,hidingbehindthegarbagecans,wherenoonecouldseeus.Apieceofpaper,abitofglass,andthesun.Wehadmadefire!Ididn’thaveanypaper,butleaveswoulddo.IranupthebeachandgatheredwhateverIcouldfindfromunderthetrees:bitsofcane,twigs,allsortsofleaves—paperthin,tinderdry.Imadeasmallpileonthesandandsatdownbesideit.Iheldmypieceofglassclosetotheleavesandangledittothesun.Ihadtokeepitstill,quitestill,andwaitforthefirstwispofsmoke.

IfonlyIcouldgetafirelit,ifonlyIcouldkeepitgoing,thenIcouldsleepbyitatnight—itwouldkeepthefliesaway,andtheanimalsaway,too.And,soonerorlater,ashiphadtocomeby.Someonewouldspotthesmoke.

IsatandIsat.Stellacameovertobotherme—shewantedtoplay—butIpushedheraway.Intheendshewentoffandsulked,stretchingoutwithasighundertheshadeofthepalmtrees.Thesunwasroastinghot,butstillnothinghappened.Myarmwasbeginningtoache,soIarrangedaframeof

twigsabovetheleaves,laidtheglassacrossit,thencrouchedbyitandwaited.Stillnothing.

AllofasuddenStellasprangupfromhersleep,adeepgrowlinherthroat.Sheturnedandrandowntowardme,wheelingaroundtobarkherfuryattheforest.ThenIsawwhatitwasthathaddisturbedher.

Ashadowunderthetreesmovedandcamelumberingoutintothesunlighttowardus.Amonkey,agiantmonkey.Notagibbonatall.Itmovedslowlyonallfours,andwasbrown,ginger-brown.Anorangutan,Iwassureofit.Hesatdownjustafewfeetfrommeandconsideredme.Idarednotmove.Whenhe’dseenenough,hescratchedhisneckcasually,turned,andmadehiswayonallfoursslowlybackintotheforest.Stellawentongrowlinglongafterhehadgone.

Sotherewereorangutanshereaswellasgibbons.Orperhapsitwasorangutansthatmadethehowlingnoiseandnotgibbonsatall.MaybeI’dbeenwrongallalong.I’dseenaClintEastwoodfilmoncewithanorangutan.Thatone,Iremembered,hadbeenfriendlyenough.Ijusthopedthisonewouldbethesame.

ThenIsawsmoke.Ismelledsmoke.Therewasaglowinamongstmypileofleaves.Icroucheddownatonceandblewonitgently.Theglowbecameflames.Iputonafewmoreleaves,thenadrytwigortwo,thensomebiggerones.Ihadafire!Ihadafire!

Idashedintotheforestandcollectedallthedebris,allthedried-upcoconutshells,allthewoodIcouldfind.BackandforthIwentuntilmyfirewasroaringandcracklinglikeaninferno.Sparkswereflyinghighintotheair.Smokewasrisingintothetreesbehindme.IknewIcouldnotrestnow,thatthefirewouldneedstillmorewood,biggerwood,brancheseven.IwouldhavetofetchandcarryuntilIwasquitecertainIhadenoughtokeepitgoing,andenoughinreserve.

Stella,Inoticed,wouldnotcomewithmeintotheforest,butstayedwaitingformebythefire.Iknewwellenoughwhy.Ikeptawaryeyeoutfortheorangutanmyself,butIwastoointentonmyfirenowtoworrymuchabouthim.

Mypileofwoodwashugebynow,butallthesameIwentbackintotheforestonelasttime,justincasethefireburneditselfoutquickerthanIexpected.Ihadtogodeeperintotheforest,soittookawhile.

Iwascomingoutofthetrees,loadedwithwooduptomychin,whenIrealizedtherewasmuchlesssmokecomingfromthefirethantherehadbeenbefore,andnoflamesatall.Then,throughthesmoke,Isawhim,theorangutan.Hewascrouchingdownandscoopingsandontomyfire.Hestoodupandcametowardme,nowoutofthesmoke.Hewasnotanorangutanatall.Hewasaman.

Hewasdiminutive,notallerthanme,andasoldamanasIhadeverseen.Heworenothingbutapairoftatteredbreechesbunchedatthewaist,andtherewasalargeknifeinhisbelt.Hewasthin,too.Inplaces—underhisarms,aroundhisneck,andhismidriff—hiscopper-brownskinlayinfoldsabouthim,almostasifhe’dshrunkinsideit.Whatlittlehairhehadonhisheadandhischinwaslongandwispyandwhite.

Icouldseeatoncethathewasveryagitated,hischintrembling,hisheavilyhoodedeyesaccusingandangry.“Dameda!Dameda!”hescreechedatme.Hiswholebodywasshakingwithfury.Ibackedawayashescuttledupthebeachtowardme,gesticulatingwildlywithhisstick,andharanguingmeashecame.Ancientandskeletalhemayhavebeen,buthewasmovingfast—running,almost.Dameda!Dameda!Ihadnoideawhathewassaying.ItsoundedChineseorJapanese,maybe.

IwasabouttoturnandrunwhenStella,who,strangely,hadnotbarkedathimatall,suddenlyleftmysideandwentboundingofftowardhim.Herhackleswerenotup.Shewasnotgrowling.Tomyastonishmentshegreetedhimlikealonglostfriend.

Hewasnomorethanafewfeetawayfrommewhenhestopped.Westoodlookingateachotherinsilenceforafewmoments.Hewasleaningonhisstick,tryingtocatchhisbreath.“Amerikajin?Amerikajin?American?Eikokujin?British?”

“Yes,”Isaid,relievedtohaveunderstoodsomethingatlast.“English,I’mEnglish.”

Itseemedastruggleforhimtogetthewordsout.“Nogood.Fire,nogood.Youunderstand?Nofire.”Heseemedlessangrynow.

“Butmymother,myfather,theymightseeit,seethesmoke.”Itwasplainhedidn’tunderstandme.SoIpointedouttosea,bywayofexplanation.“Outthere.They’reoutthere.They’llseethefire.They’llcomeandfetchme.”

Instantlyhebecameaggressiveagain.“Dameda!”heshrieked,waving

hisstickatme.“Nofire!”Ithoughtforamomenthewasgoingtoattackme,buthedidnot.Insteadhebegantorakethroughthesandatmyfeetwithhisstick.Hewasdrawingtheoutlineofsomething,jabberingincomprehensiblyallthetime.Itlookedlikesomekindofafruitatfirst—anut,perhaps,apeanut.NowIunderstood:Itwasamapoftheisland.Whenitwasdonehefellonhiskneesbesideitandpiledupmoundsofsand,oneateachend—thetwohills.Then,verydeliberately,heetchedoutastraightline,toptobottom,cuttingthesmallerendoftheislandofffromthelargerone.

“You,boy.Youhere,”hesaid,pointingbacktowardmycaveattheendofthebeach.“You.”Andhestabbedhisfingerinthemoundofsandthatwasmyhill.Thenacrossthewholeofthesandmaphebegantowritesomething.Theletteringwasnotlettersatall,butsymbols—allkindsofticksandpyramidsandcrossesandhorizontallinesandslashesandsquiggles—andhewroteitallbackward,incolumns,fromrighttoleft.

Hesatbackonhishaunchesandtappedhischest.“Kensuke.I,Kensuke.Myisland.”Andhebroughthishanddownsharplylikeachopper,separatingtheislandintwo.“I,Kensuke.Here.You,boy.Here.”Iwasalreadyinnodoubtastowhathemeant.Suddenlyhewasonhisfeetagain,wavingmeawaywithhisstick.“Go,boy.Nofire.Dameda.Nofire.Youunderstand?”

Ididnotargue,butwalkedawayatonce.When,afterawhile,Idaredtolookback,hewaskneelingdownbesidewhatwasleftofmyfire,andscoopingstillmoresandontoit.

Stellahadstayedwithhim.Iwhistledforher.Shecame,butnotatonce.Icouldseeshewasreluctanttoleavehim.Shewasbehavingveryoddly.StellaArtoishadnevertakenkindlytostrangers,never.Ifeltdisappointedinher—abitbetrayed,even.

WhenInextlookedback,thefirewasnotsmokingatall.Ithadbeencompletelysmothered,andtheoldmanwasnowheretobeseen.

FortherestofthatdayIstayedinmycave.ForsomereasonIfeltsafethere.IsupposeIhadalreadybeguntothinkofitashome.Ihadnoother.Ifeltasanorphanmustfeel,abandonedandaloneintheworld.Iwasfrightened,Iwasangry,Iwascompletelybewildered.

Isattheretryingtogathermythoughts.SofarasIcouldtell—thoughIcouldn’tbesureofit—therewereonlythetwoofusonthisisland,theoldmanandme.Inwhichcase,itstoodtoreasonthatonlyhecouldhaveleftme

thefishandthebananasandthewater.Surelythathadbeenanactofkindness,asignoffriendship,ofwelcome?Andyet,now,thissamemanhadbanishedmetooneendoftheislandasifIwerealeper,andhadmadeitquiteclearthatheneverwantedustomeeteveragain.AndallbecauseIhadlitafire?Noneofitmadeanysenseatall,unlesshewasoutofhismind.

Itookalong,hardlookatmysituation.Iwasmaroonedonanislandinthemiddleofnowhere,veryprobablywithamadmanforcompany,andabunchofhowlingmonkeys(atleastoneorangutanamongstthem)—andGodknowswhatelsemightbehiddenintheforest—andmillionsofmosquitoesthatwouldeatmealiveeverynight.Iknewonlyonething:Ihadtogetaway.Buthow?HowwasIevergoingtogetofftheislandunlessIcouldattracttheattentionofsomepassingship?Icouldbeherefortherestofmylife.Thethoughtdidn’tbeardwellingon.

Iwonderedhowlongtheoldmanhadbeenontheisland,andwhatmighthavebroughthimhereinthefirstplace.Whowashe?Andwhowashe,anyway,totellmewhatIcouldandcouldnotdo?Andwhyhadheputoutmyfire?

Icurledupinmycave,closedmyeyes,andjustwishedmyselfbackhome,orbackonthePeggySuewithmymotherandfather.Suchwonderfuldreamingalmostlulledmetosleep,butthemosquitoesandthehowlingfromtheforestsoondraggedmebacktoconsciousness,tofaceonceagainalltheappallingimplicationsofmywretchedpredicament.

ItcametomesuddenlythatIhadseentheoldman’sfacesomewherebefore.Ihadnoideahowthatcouldbe.AsIlaythereponderingthis,Ifeltthepieceofglassinmypocketpressingintomyhip.Myspiritsweresuddenlylifted.Istillhadmyfireglass.Iwouldbuildmyfireagain,butthistimesomewherehewouldn’tdiscoverit.Iwouldwaitforashiptocome,anduntilthenIwouldsurvive.Theoldmanhadsurvivedinthisplace.Ifhecould,Icould.AndIcoulddoitalone,too.Ididn’tneedhim.

Ifelthungryagainandthirsty,too.TomorrowIwouldgointotheforestandfindfoodformyself.Iwouldfindwater.SomehoworotherIwouldcatchfish,too.Iwasgoodatfishing.IfIcouldcatchtheminthereservoirbackhomeandoffthePeggySue,thenIcouldcatchthemhere.

Ispentthatnightcursingthehordesofwhirringinsectsthatwerehominginonme,andthechatteringforestthatwouldnotbesilent,thatwouldnotlet

mebe.Ikeptseeingthereservoirinmymind’seye,andmymotherlaughinginherskipper’scap.Ifelttearscomingandtriednottothinkofher.Ithoughtoftheoldman.WhenIfellasleepIwasstilltryingtorememberwhathehadsaidhisnamewas.

Iawokeandknewatoncethathehadbeenthere.ItwasasifIhaddreamedit.Stellaseemedtohavedreamedthesamedream,foratonceshewasboundingupontotherocksabovethecave.Shefoundwhatsheclearlyexpectedtobethere—herbowlofwaterfullagain.Andthere,too,highontheshelfofrockbeyondher,wasthesameupside-downtin,mywaterbowlbesideit,justasithadbeenthemorningbefore.Iknewitwouldbefull,andIknewasIliftedasidethetinthatthefoodwouldbethereagain.

AsIsattherecross-leggedontherock,chewingravenouslyonmyfishandthrowingpiecesdownforStellatocatch,Irealizedexactlywhathemeanttoimplybythis.Wewerenotfriends.Wewouldnotbefriends.Hewouldkeepmealive,keepStellaalive,butonlysolongasIlivedbyhisrules.Ihadtokeeptomyendoftheisland,andImustneverlightfires.Itwasallquiteclear.

Withanyrealhopeofimmediaterescuediminishingdaybyday,Ibecamemoreandmoreresigned.IknewIhadnochoicebuttoaccepthistermsandgoalongwithhisregime,forthemoment.Hehadnowmarkedoutafrontier,aboundarylineinthesandfromtheforestdowntotheseaonbothsidesoftheisland—andhereneweditfrequently,asoftenasitneededtobe.Stellastrayedoverit,ofcourse—Icouldn’tpreventher—butIdidnot.Itwasn’tworthit.InspiteoftheanimosityIhadseeninhiseyesandthathugeknifeinhisbelt,Ididn’treallythinkhewouldeverhurtme.ButIwasfrightenedbyhim,andbecauseofthat,andbecauseIhadtoomuchtolose,Ididnotwanttoconfronthim.Afterall,hewasprovidinguseverydaywithallthefoodandwaterweneeded.

Iwasbeginningtofindsomeediblefruitformyself—inparticular,apricklyshelledfruit(rambutan,Ilaterdiscovered).Itwasdelicious,butIcouldneverfindenoughand,besides,Stellawouldnoteatit.Ifoundtheoccasionalcoconutstillintact,butoftenboththemilkandfleshwerefoul.OnceortwiceIeventriedclimbingforthem,buttheywerealwaystoohigh,andIverysoongaveup.

Itriedfishingintheshallows,fashioningacrudespear,alongstickIhad

sharpenedonarock,butIwasalwaystooslowinmystrike.Therewereplentyoffish,buttheyweretoosmallandtoofast.So,likeitornot,westillverymuchneededthedailyrationoffishandfruitandwatertheoldmanwasbringingus.

Ihadsearchedmyendoftheislandforfreshwater,butcouldfindnone.Ithoughtoftenoftrespassingintotheoldman’spartoftheforesttolookforit,butIdarednot.Forthemostpart,Ikeptclosetotheforesttracks.

Itwasn’tonlytheoldman’slawsorthehowlingofthemonkeys—whichIcametounderstandasawarning—thatpreventedmefromventuringintohissideoftheisland;itwastheorangutan,too.Hehadseemedplacidenough,butIhadnoideahowheorhisfriendsmightreactiftheyfoundmeintheirterritory.Ikeptwondering,too,whatothercreaturesmightlurkunseen,waitingtoambushmeinthedarkdampoftheforest.Iftheconstantjungletalkwasanythingtogoby,theplacewascrawlingwithallsortsofdreadfulcreatures.

Justthethoughtoftheorangutanandtheterrorsoftheunknownintheforestwerequiteenoughtodeterme,enoughtostiflebothmycuriosityandmycourage.SoIkeptlargelytomybeach,mycave,andtheforesttrackuptomyhilltop.

FromhighonmyhillIdidcatchdistantglimpsesoftheoldman.OfteninthemorningsIwouldseehimspearfishingintheshallows,sometimesalone,butoftenaccompaniedbyagroupoforangutans,whosatonthebeachandwatchedhim—fourteenorfifteenofthem,Icountedonce.Occasionallyhewouldbecarryingoneoftheyoungonesonhisback.Whenhemovedamongstthem,itseemedalmostasifhewereoneofthem.

TimeandagainItriedtostayawakeuntiltheoldmancamewiththefoodatnight,butInevermanagedit.Ineverevenheardhim,notonce.Buteverymorningthewaterwouldbethere;thefish,too(itoftentastedsmokythesedays,whichIlikedbetter).Thefruitwouldnotalwaysbethesame.Muchofitwasstrangelyscented,andnotatalltomyliking.Iateit,anyway.Besidesbananasandcoconutandberries,hewouldleavemebreadfruitorjackfruit(atthetime,ofcourse,Ihadnoideawhattheywere).Iateeverything,butnotsogreedilynow.Iwouldtrytosavesomeofthefruitforaneveningmeal.ButIcouldneverbringmyselftosavetheredbananas;theywerejusttoodeliciousnottoeatallatonce.

Myrecurringnightmarewasthemosquitoesatnight.Fromduskonwardtheysearchedmeout,buzzedinonmeandatemealive.Therewasnohidingplace.Mynightswereonelongtorture,andinthemorningIwouldscratchmyselfrawinplaces.Someofthebites,particularlyonmylegs,hadnowswelledupandbecomesuppuratingredsores.Ifoundrelieffromthemonlybydunkingmyselfofteninthecoolofthesea.

Itriedsleepinginanothercave,deeperanddarker,butitsmelleddreadful.OnceIhaddiscovereditwasfullofbats,Ileftatonce.WhereverIslept,themosquitoesfoundmesoonenough.ItgotsothatIdreadedthecomingofeverynight.IcriedoutaloudinmymiseryasIswipedandflailedatthem.Ilongedforthemornings,forthecooloftheseaandthecoolofthewindonmyhilltop.

HereIwouldspendthegreaterpartofmyday,sittingontheverysummit,lookingouttoseaandhoping—sometimesevenpraying,too—forthesightofaship.IwouldclosemyeyestightshutandprayforaslongasIcould,andthenopenthemagain.EverytimeIdidit,Ireallyfelt,reallybelieved,therewasachancemyprayerswouldbeanswered,thatthistimeIwouldopenmyeyesandseethePeggySuesailingbacktorescueme,butalwaysthegreatwideoceanwasempty,thelineofthehorizonquiteuninterrupted.Iwasalwaysdisappointed,ofcourse,oftendejected,butnotyetcompletelydespondent,notinthoseearlyweeks.

Ihadsevereproblems,too,withsunburn.IhadlearnedratherlatethatIshouldkeepallmyclothesonallthetime,andImademyselfahattokeepthesunoffmyfaceandmyneck.ItwasverybroadandChinese-looking,madeofpalmleaves,theedgesfoldedintooneanother.Iwasquitepleasedwithmyhandiwork.

Sunburn,Idiscovered,wasadiscomfortIcouldhelptoprevent,andthatseawatercouldsoothe.AtnoonIwouldgodownthehilltoshelterinmycavefromtheburningheatoftheafternoonsun,andthenafterwardIwouldgoswimming.ThiswasthemomentStellalongedforeachday.Ispentlonghoursthrowingastickforher.Sheloveditand,tobetruthful,sodidI.Itwasthehighlightofourday.We’dstoponlywhenthedarknesscame—italwayscamesurprisinglyquickly,too—anddroveusbackoncemoretoourcave,backtomynightlybattlewithmybloodsuckingtormentors.

Oneday,afteryetanotherfruitlessmorningofwatchingonthehill,Stella

andIwerecomingoutoftheforestwhenIspottedsomethinglyingonthesandjustoutsideourcave.Atadistanceitlookedlikeapieceofdriftwood.Stellagottherebeforemeandwassniffingitexcitedly.Icouldseeitnowforwhatitwas.Itwasnotdriftwoodatall,butarollofrushmatting.Iunrolledit.Inside,andneatlyfolded,wasasheet,awhitesheet.Heknew!Theoldmanknewmymiseries,mydiscomforts,myeveryneed.Hehadbeenwatchingmeallthetime,andclosely,too.Hemusthaveseenmescratchingmyself,seentheredweltsonmylegs,onmyarms,seenmesittingintheseaeverymorningtosootheawaymysores.Surelythismustmeanthathehadforgivenmenowforlightingthefire?

Icarriedthemattinginsidethecave,unrolledit,woundmyselfinthesheet,andjustlaytheregigglingwithjoy.Icouldpullthesheetrightupovermyface.Tonighttherewouldbenowayinforthosecursedmosquitoes.Tonighttheywouldgohungry.

Iwentracingalongthebeachtotheboundaryline,whereIstopped,cuppedmyhandstomouth,andshouted,“Thankyou!Thankyouformybed!Thankyou!Thankyou!”Ididn’treallyexpectananswer,andnonecame.Ihopedhemightcomehimself,buthedidn’t.SoIwrotemythanksinthesandrightbytheboundarylineandsignedit.Iwantedsomuchtoseehimagain,totalktohim,tohearahumanvoice.StellaArtoishadbeenawonderfulcompaniontome,goodforconfidingin,goodforacuddle,goodforagame,butIsomissedhumancompany—mymother,myfather,losttomenow,perhapsforever.Ilongedtoseetheoldman,tospeaktohim,evenifhewasabitmad,evenifIcouldn’tunderstandmuchofwhathewassaying.

ThatnightIwasdeterminedtostayawakeforhimbut,comfortableonmynewmattingbed,protectedandswaddledinmysheet,Iwenttosleepquicklyandneverwokeonce.

Thenextmorning,afterabreakfastoffishandjackfruitandcoconut,StellaandImadeourwaybackuptothetopofmyhill,or“WatchHill,”asInowcalledit—theotheroneIhadnamed“HisHill.”IwasrepairingmyChinesehat,replacingsomeofthepalmleaves—itneverseemedtoholdtogetherforverylong—whenIlookedupandsawashiponthehorizon.Therewasnomistake.Itwasthelong,bulkyprofileofasupertanker.

InaninstantIwasonmyfeet,shoutingatthetopofmyvoiceandwavingfrantically.Ileapedupanddownscreamingforthemtostop,tohearme,toseeme.“I’mhere!Here!I’mhere!”OnlywhenmythroatwasrawandIcouldshoutnolongerdidIstop.Thetankercrepttantalizinglyslowlyalongthehorizon.Itdidnotturn,andbythenIknewitwouldnotturn.Iknew,too,thatnoonewouldbelooking,andthateveniftheywere,thisentireislandwouldbelittlemorethanadistanthazyhumponthehorizon.Howthencouldtheypossiblyseeme?Icouldonlylookon,helplessanddistraught,asthetankermovedinexorablyfartherandfartherawayfrommeuntilitbegantodisappearoverthehorizon.Thistookallmorninglong,amorningofdreadfulanguish.

AsIstoodwatchingonthesummitofWatchHill,mydespairwasreplacedbyaburninganger.IfIhadbeenallowedtohavemyfire,therewouldatleasthavebeenachancetheycouldhavespottedthesmoke.True,theoldmanhadbroughtmeasleepingmatandasheet.Hewaslookingafterme,hewaskeepingmealive,buthewasalsokeepingmeprisoner.

Asthelastvestigeofthetankersankfrommyview,IpromisedmyselfthatIwouldneveragainletsuchachancegoby.Ifeltinmypocket.Istillhadmypreciousfireglass.IdeterminedIwoulddoit.Iwouldbuildanotherfire,notdownonthebeachwherehecouldfindit,butuphereonWatchHill,behindtherocksandwelloutofhissight,evenifhedidhavebinoculars—andInowhadtopresumethathedid.Iwouldgatheragreatbeaconofwood,butIwouldnotlightit.IwouldsetitallupandwaituntilthemomentIsawaship.Ifthisonehadcome,Ireasoned,thenanotheronewouldcome,hadtocome,andwhenitdid,Iwouldhavemyfireglassready,andacacheofpaper-thin,tinder-dryleaves.Iwouldmakesuchablazinginfernoofafire,afirethatwouldsendupsuchatoweringsmokesignalthatthenextshipthathappenedalongwouldhavetoseeit.

SonowInolongerspentmydaysjustsittingonWatchHillandwaiting.

EveryhourIwasupthereIspentbuildingmybeacon.Iwoulddraggreatbranchesupovertherockyscreefromtheforestbelowandpilethemhigh,butontheseawardsideofthehilltop,theperfectplaceforittobeseenbyships,whenitwaslit—but,inthemeantime,notbythepryingeyesoftheoldmanwhoIthoughtofnowasmycaptor.Andhewouldbewatchingme—Iwasquitesureofthatnow.Throughallthefetchingandcarrying,Ikeptwelloutofhissight.OnlyeyesfromtheseacouldpossiblyhaveknownwhatIwasdoing,andtherewerenoeyesouttheretoseeme.

Ittookseveraldaysofhardlabortobuildmysecretbeacon.IhadalmostfinishedwhensomeonedidindeeddiscoverwhatIwasupto,butitwasn’ttheoldman.

IwasheavingamassivebranchontothepilewhenIfeltasuddenshadowcomeoverme.Anorangutanwaslookingdownatmefromtherockabove—Icouldnotbesureitwasthesameoneasbefore.Hewasonallfours,hisgreatshouldershunched,hisheadlowered,eyeingmeslightlysideways.Idarednotmove.Itwasastandoff,justasithadbeenbeforedownonthebeach.

Hesatbackandlookedatmewithmildinterestforawhile.Thenhelookedaway,scratchedhisfacenonchalantly,andlopedoff,stoppingoncetoglancebackatmeoverhisshoulderbeforemovingonintotheshadowofthetreesandaway.ItoccurredtomeasIwatchedhimgothatmaybehehadbeensenttospyonme,thathemightgobackandtelltheoldmanwhathehadseenmedoing.Itwasaridiculousthought,Iknow,butIdorememberthinkingit.

Astormbrokeovertheislandthatnight,suchafearsomestorm,suchathunderouscrashingoflightningoverhead,suchadinofrainandwindthatsleepwasquiteimpossible.Greatwavesroaredinfromtheocean,poundingthebeach,andshakingthegroundbeneathme.Ispreadoutmysleepingmatattheverybackofthecave.Stellalaydownbesidemeandhuddledclose.HowIwelcomedthat.

Itwasfullyfourdaysbeforethestormblewitselfout,butevenduringtheworstofit,Iwouldfindmyfishandfruitbreakfastwaitingformeeverymorningundermytin,whichhehadnowwedgedintightunderthesameshelfofrock.StellaandIkepttotheshelterofourcave.Allwecoulddowaswatchastheraincamepouringdownoutside.Ilookedonawestruckatthe

powerofthevastwavesrollinginfromtheopensea,curling,tumbling,andexplodingastheybrokeontothebeach,asiftheyweretryingtobattertheislandintopiecesandthensuckusallouttosea.IthoughtoftenofmymotherandfatherandthePeggySue,andwonderedwheretheywere.Ijusthopedthetyphoon—forthatwaswhatIwaswitnessing—hadpassedthemby.

Then,onemorning,assuddenlyasthestormhadbegun,itstopped.Thesunblazeddownfromaclearbluesky,andtheforestsymphonystartedupwhereithadleftoff.Iventuredout.Thewholeislandsteamedanddripped.IwentatonceupWatchHilltoseeifIcouldseeaship,perhapsblownoffcourse,ormaybeshelteringintheleeoftheisland.Therewasnothingthere.Thatwasadisappointment,butatleastIfoundmybeaconhadnotcollapsed.Itwassodden,ofcourse,butstillintact.Everythingwassodden.Therecouldbenofirenowuntilithaddriedout.

Theairwashotandheavyallthatday.Itwasdifficulttomoveatall,difficulttobreathe.Stellacouldonlylieandpant.Theonlyplacetocooloffwasthesea,soIspentmostofthatdaylollinglazilyinthewater,throwingtheoccasionalstickforStellatokeepherhappy.

Iwaslyinginthesea,justfloatingthereanddaydreaming,whenIheardtheoldman’svoice.Hewashurryingdownthebeach,yellingatusashecameandwavinghisstickwildlyintheair.

“Yamero!Abunai!Dangerous.Understand?Noswim.”Hedidnotseemtobeangrywithme,ashehadbeenbefore,buthewasclearlyupsetaboutsomething.

Ilookedaroundme.Theseawasstillheavingin,butgentlynow,breathingoutthelastofthestorm,thewavesfallinglimpandexhaustedontothebeach.Icouldseenoparticulardanger.

“Whynot?”Icalledback.“What’sthematter?”Hehaddroppedhisstickonthebeachandwaswadingoutthroughthe

surftowardme.“Noswim.Dameda!Abunai!Noswim.”Thenhehadmebythearmand

wasleadingmeforciblyoutofthesea.Hisgripwasviselike.Therewaslittlepointinstruggling.Onlywhenwewerebackonthebeachdidheatlastreleaseme.Hestoodtherebreathlessforafewmoments.“Dangerous.Verybad.Abunai!”Hewaspointingouttosea.“Noswim.Verybad.Noswim.Youunderstand!”Helookedmehardintheeye,leavingmeinnodoubtthat

thiswasnotmeantasadvice,thiswasacommandthatIshouldobey.Thenheturnedandwalkedoffintotheforest,retrievinghisstickashewent.Stellaranafterhim,butIcalledherback.

Ifeltatthatmomentlikedefyinghimopenly.Iwouldchargebackintotheseaandfrolicasnoisily,asprovocativelyasIcould.Thatwouldshowhim.Iwasbristlingattheoutrageousunfairnessofitall.First,hewouldnotletmelightmyfire.ThenIwasbanishedtooneendoftheisland,andnowIwasn’tevenallowedtoswim.IwantedtocallhimeverynameIcouldthinkof.ButIdidn’t.Ididn’tgoswimmingintheseaagain,either.Icapitulated.Igavein,becauseIhadto.Ineededhisfood,hiswater.Untilmysecretbeaconofwooddriedout,untilthenextshipcameby,Iwouldhavetodoashesaid.Ihadnochoice.Ididmakeaman-sizesculptureofhimlyinginthesandoutsidemycave,andIdidjumpupanddownonhiminmyfuryandfrustration.Itmademefeelalittlebetter,butnotmuch.

Untilnow,exceptforoccasionalgut-wrenchingpangsofhomesicknessandloneliness,Ihadbyandlargemanagedtokeepmyspiritsup.Butnotanymore.Mybeaconstayedobstinatelydamp.EverydayIwentupWatchHillhopingtosightaship,andeverydaytheseastretchedawayonallsides,empty.Ifeltmoreandmoreisolated,moreandmorewretched.IntheendIdecidednottogoontoWatchHillanymore,thatitjustwasnotworthit.InsteadIstayedinmycaveandcurleduponmysleepingmatforlonghoursduringtheday.Ilaytheredrowninginmymisery,thinkingofnothingbutthehopelessnessofitall,howIwouldnevergetoffthisisland,howIwoulddiehere,andmymotherandfatherwouldneverevenknowwhathadhappenedtome.Noonewould,excepttheoldman,themadman,mycaptor,mypersecutor.

Theweatherstayedheavyandhumid.HowIlongedtoplungeintotheocean,butIdarednot.He’dbewatchingmeforsure.Witheverydaythatpassed,inspiteofthefishandfruitandwaterhecontinuedtobringme,Icametohatetheoldmanmoreandmore.DejectedanddepressedImayhavebeen,butIwasangry,too,andgraduallythisangerfueledinmeanewdeterminationtoescape,andthisdeterminationrevivedmyspirits.OnceagainIwentonmydailytrekupWatchHill.IbegantocollectafreshcacheofdryleavesandtwigsfromtheforestedgeandsquirreledthemawayinadeepcleftintherocksothatIwouldalwaysbesuretheyweredrywhenthe

timecame.Mybeaconhaddriedoutatlast.Ibuiltitup,higherandhigher.WhenIhaddoneallIcouldIsatandwaitedforthetimetocome,asIknewitmust.Dayafterday,weekafterweek,IsatuponWatchHill,myfireglasspolishedinmypocket,mybeaconreadyandwaiting.

Asitturnedout,whenthetimedidcome,Iwasn’tuponWatchHillatall.Onemorning,withsleepstillinmyhead,Iemergedfrommycave,andthereitwas.Aboat!Aboatwithstrangered-brownsails—IsupposedittobesomekindofChinesejunk—andnotthatfarouttosea,either.Excitementgotthebetterofme.Iranhelter-skelterdownthebeach,shoutingandscreamingforallIwasworth.ButIcouldseeatoncethatitwashopeless.Thejunkwasnotthatfarouttosea,butitwasstilltoofarformetobeeitherseenorheard.Itriedtocalmmyself,triedtothink…thefire!Lightthefire!

IranallthewayupWatchHillwithoutoncestopping,Stellahardonmyheelsandbarking.Allaroundmetheforestwascacklingandscreechingandwhoopinginprotestatthissuddendisturbance.Ireadiedmycacheofdryleaves,tookmyfireglass,andcroucheddownbesidethebeacontolightmyfire.ButIwastremblingsomuchwithexcitementandexhaustionbynowthatIcouldnotholdmyhandstillenough.SoIsetupaframeoftwigsandlaidtheglassoverit,justasIhadbefore.ThenIsatoverit,willingtheleavestosmolder.

EverytimeIlookedouttosea,thejunkwasstillthere,movingslowlyaway,butstillthere.

Itseemedanage,buttherewasawispofsmoke,andshortlyafterwardaglorious,wondrousglowofflamespreadingalongtheedgeofoneleaf.Ibentoverittoblowitintolife.

ThatwaswhenIsawhisfeet.Ilookedup.Theoldmanwasstandingoverme,hiseyesfullofrageandhurt.Hesaidnotaword,butsetaboutstampingoutmyembryofire.Hesnatchedupmyfireglassandhurleditattherockbelow,whereitshatteredtopieces.Icouldonlylookonandweepashekickedawaymypreciouspileofdryleaves,ashedismantledmybeaconandhurledthesticksandbranchesonebyonedownthehill.Ashedidsothegroupoforangutansgatheredtowatch.

Soonnothingwhatsoevernowremainedofmybeacon.Allaboutmetherockscreewaslitteredwiththescatteredruinsofit.Iexpectedhimtoscreechatme,buthedidn’t.Hespokeveryquietly,verydeliberately.“Dameda,”he

said.“Butwhy?”Icried.“Iwanttogohome.There’saboat,can’tyousee?I

justwanttogohome,that’sall.Whywon’tyouletme?Why?”Hestoodandstaredatme.ForamomentIthoughtIdetectedjustaflicker

ofunderstanding.Thenhebowedverystifflyfromthewaist,andsaid,“Gomenasai.Gomenasai.Sorry.Verysorry.”Andwiththatheleftmethereandwentoffbackintotheforest,followedbytheorangutans.

Isattherewatchingthejunkuntilitwasnothingbutaspotonthehorizon,untilIcouldnotbeartowatchanymore.BythistimeIhadalreadydecidedhowIcouldbestdefyhim.Iwassoenragedthatconsequencesdidn’tmattertomenow.Notanymore.WithStellabesideme,Iheadedalongthebeach,stoppedattheboundarylineinthesand,andthen,verydeliberately,Isteppedoverit.AsIdidso,IlethimknowpreciselywhatIwasdoing.

“Areyouwatching,oldman?”Ishouted.“Look!I’vecrossedover.I’vecrossedoveryoursillyline.AndnowI’mgoingtoswim.Idon’tcarewhatyousay.Idon’tcareifyoudon’tfeedme.Youhearme,oldman?”ThenIturnedandchargeddownthebeachintothesea.Iswamfuriously,untilIwascompletelyexhaustedandalongwayfromtheshore.Itrodwaterandthrashedtheseainmyfury—makingitboilandfrothallaroundme.“It’smyseaasmuchasyours,”Icried.“AndI’llswiminitwhenIlike.”

Isawhimthen.Heappearedsuddenlyattheedgeoftheforest.Hewasshoutingsomethingatme,wavinghisstick.ThatwasthemomentIfeltit,asearing,stingingpaininthebackofmyneck,thenmyback,andmyarms,too.Alarge,translucentwhitejellyfishwasfloatingrightbesideme,itstentaclesgropingatme.Itriedtoswimaway,butitcameafterme,huntingme.Iwasstungagain,inmyfootthistime.Theagonywasimmediateandexcruciating.Itpermeatedmyentirebodylikeonecontinuouselectricshock.Ifeltmymusclesgoingrigid.Ikickedfortheshore,butIcouldnotdoit.Mylegsseemedparalyzed,myarms,too.Iwassinking,andtherewasnothingIcoulddoaboutit.Isawthejellyfishpoisedforthekillabovemenow.Iscreamed,andmymouthfilledwithwater.Iwaschoking.Iwasgoingtodie,Iwasgoingtodrown,butIdidnotcare.Ijustwantedthepaintostop.DeathIknewwouldstopit.

Ismelledvinegar,andthoughtIwasathome.MyfatheralwaysbroughtusbackfishandchipsforsupperonFridaysandhelovedtosoakhisinvinegar—thewholehousewouldstinkofitallevening.Iopenedmyeyes.Itwasdarkenoughtobeevening,butIwasnotathome.Iwasinacave,butnotmycave.Icouldsmellsmoke,too.Iwaslyingonasleepingmatcoveredinasheetuptomychin.Itriedtosituptolookaroundme,butIcouldnotmove.Itriedtoturnmyneck.Icouldn’t.Icouldmovenothingexceptmyeyes.Icouldfeel,though.Myskin,mywholebody,throbbedwithsearingpain,asifIhadbeenscaldedallover.Itriedtocallout,butcouldbarelymanageawhisper.ThenIrememberedthejellyfish.Iremembereditall.

Theoldmanwasbendingoverme,hishandsoothingonmyforehead.“Youbetternow,”hesaid.“MynameKensuke.Youbetternow.”IwantedtoaskafterStella.Sheansweredforherselfbystickinghercoldnoseintomyear.

IdonotknowforhowmanydaysIlaythere,driftinginandoutofsleep,onlythatwheneverIwoke,Kensukewasalwaystheresittingbesideme.HerarelyspokeandIcouldnotspeak,butthesilencebetweenussaidmorethananywords.Myerstwhileenemy,mycaptor,hadbecomemysavior.Hewouldliftmetopourfruitjuiceorwarmsoupdownmythroat.Hewouldspongemedownwithcoolingwater,andwhenthepainwassobadthatIcriedout,hewouldholdmeandsingmesoftlybacktosleep.Itwasstrange.Whenhesangtomeitwaslikeanechofromthepast,ofmyfather’svoice,perhaps—Ididn’tknow.Slowlythepainleftme.Tenderlyhenursedmebacktolife.ThedaymyfingersfirstmovedwastheveryfirsttimeIeversawhimsmile.

WhenatlastIwasabletoturnmyneckIwouldwatchhimashecameandwent,ashebusiedhimselfaroundthecave.Stellawouldoftencomeandliebesideme,hereyesfollowinghim,too.

EverydaynowIwasabletoseemoreofwhereIwas.Incomparisonwithmycavedownbythebeach,thisplacewasvast.Apartfromtheroofofvaultedrockabove,youwouldscarcelyhaveknownitwasacave.Therewasnothingrudimentaryaboutitatall.Itlookedmorelikeanopen-planhousethanacave—kitchen,sittingroom,studio,bedroom,allinonespace.

Hecookedoverasmallfirethatsmokedcontinuouslyatthebackofthecave,thesmokerisingthroughasmallclefthighintherocksabove—apossiblereason,Ithought,whytherewerenomosquitoestobotherme.Therealwaysseemedtobesomethinghangingfromawoodentripodoverthefire,eitherablackenedpotorwhatlookedlikeandsmelledlikelongstripsofsmokedfish.

Icouldseethedarkgleamofmetalpotsandpanslineduponanearbywoodenshelf.Therewereothershelves,too,linedwithtinsandjars,dozensofthemofallsizesandshapes,andhangingbeneaththeminnumerablebunchesofdriedherbsandflowers.Thesehewouldoftenbemixingorpounding,butIwasn’tsurewhatfor.SometimeshewouldbringthemovertomesothatIcouldsmellthem.

Thecavehousewassparselyfurnished.Toonesideofthecavemouthstoodalowwoodentable,barelyafootofftheground.Herehekepthispaintbrushes,alwaysneatlylaidout,andseveralmorejarsandbottles,andsaucers,too.

Kensukelivedandworkedalmostentirelynearthemouthofthecavehousewheretherewasdaylight.Atnighthewouldrollouthissleepingmatacrossthecavefromme,upagainstthefarwall.Iwouldwakeintheearlymorningssometimesandjustwatchhimsleeping.Healwayslayonhisbackwrappedinhissheetandnevermovedamuscle.

Kensukewouldspendmanyhoursofeverydaykneelingatthetableandpainting.Hepaintedonlargeshellsbut,muchtomydisappointment,henevershowedmewhathehaddone.Indeed,herarelyseemedpleasedwithhiswork,forjustassoonashehadfinished,hewouldusuallywashoffwhathehaddoneandstartagain.

Onthefarsideofthecavemouthwasalongworkbenchand,hangingupaboveit,anarrayoftools—saws,hammers,chisels,allsorts.Andbeyondtheworkbenchwerethreelargewoodenchestsinwhichhewouldfrequentlyrummagearoundforashell,perhaps,oracleansheet.Wehadcleansheets

everynight.Insidethecaveheworeawraparoundbathrobe(akimono,asIlaterknew

ittobe).Hekeptthecavehouseimmaculatelyclean,sweepingitdownonceadayatleast.Therewasalargebowlofwaterjustinsidethecavemouth.Everytimehecameinhewouldwashhisfeetanddrythembeforesteppinginside.

Thefloorwasentirelycoveredwithmatsmadeofwovenrushes,likeoursleepingmats.Andeverywhere,allaroundthecave,toheadheightandabove,thewallswerelinedwithbamboo.Itwassimple,butitwasahome.Therewasnoclutter.Everythinghaditsplaceanditspurpose.

AsIgotbetter,Kensukewouldgooff,andleavemeonmyownmoreandmorebut,thankfully,neverfortoolong.He’dreturnlater,veryoftensinging,withfish,perhapsfruit,coconutsorherbs,whichhe’dbringovertoshowmeproudly.Theorangutanswouldsometimescomewithhim,butonlyasfarasthecavemouth.They’dpeerinatme,andatStella,whoalwayskeptherdistancefromthem.Onlytheyoungonesevertriedtoventurein,andthenKensukeonlyhadtoclapatthemandthey’dsoongoscootingoff.

DuringthoseearlydaysinthecavehouseIsomuchwishedwecouldtalk.Therewereathousandmysteries,athousandthingsIwantedtoknow.Butitstillhurtmetotalk,andbesides,Ifelthewasquitehappywithoursilence,thathepreferreditsomehow.Heseemedaveryprivateperson,andcontenttobethatway.

Thenoneday,afterhoursofkneelinghunchedoveroneofhispaintings,hecameoverandgaveittome.Itwasapictureofatree,atreeinblossom.Hissmilesaideverything.“Foryou.Japantree,”hesaid.“I,Japaneseperson.”Afterthat,Kensukeshowedmeallthepaintingshedid,eventheoneshelaterwashedoff.Theywereallinblack-and-whitewash,oforangutans,gibbons,butterflies,dolphins,andbirds,andfruit.Onlyveryoccasionallydidhekeepone,storingitawaycarefullyinoneofhischests.Hedidkeepseveralofthetreepaintings,Inoticed,alwaysofatreeinblossom,a“Japantree,”ashecalledit,andIcouldseehetookparticularjoyinshowingmethese.Itwasclearhewasallowingmetosharesomethingverydeartohim.Ifelthonoredbythat.

Inthedyinglightofeachdayhewouldsitbesidemeandwatchoverme,thelastoftheeveningsunonhisface.Ifeltasifhewerehealingmewithhis

eyes.Atnight,Ithoughtoftenofmymotherandmyfather.Isomuchwantedtoseethemagain,toletthemknowIwasstillalive.But,strangely,Inolongermissedthem.

IntimeIfoundmyvoiceagain.Theparalysisgraduallylostitsgriponme,andmystrengthflowedback.NowIcouldgooutwithKensuke,wheneverheinvitedme,andheoftendid.Tobeginwith,IwouldsquatonthebeachwithStellaandwatchhimspearfishingintheshallows.Sostillhestood,andhisstrikewaslightningfast.Thenonedayhemadememyownspear.Iwastofishwithhim.Hetaughtmewherethebiggerfishwere,wheretheoctopuseshidundertherocks,howtostandstillasaheronandwait,spearpoisedjustabovethewater,myshadowfallingbehindmesothatthefishwerenotfrightenedaway.Itellyou,spearingafishforthefirsttimewaslikescoringawinninggoalfortheMudlarksbackhome—justaboutthebestfeelingintheworld.

Kensukeseemedtoknoweverytreeintheforest,whereallthefruitgrew,whatwasripeandwhatwasnot,whatwasworthclimbingfor.Heclimbedimpossibletreesnimbly,footsureandfearless.Nothingintheforestalarmedhim,notthehowlinggibbonsswingingabovehisheadtodrivehimofftheirfruit,notthebeesthatswarmedabouthimwhenhecarrieddowntheircombfromahollowhighinatree(heusedthehoneyforsugaringandbottlingfruit).Andalwayshisfamilyoforangutanscamealong,shadowingusthroughtheforest,patrollingthetracksahead,scamperingalongbehind.AllKensukehadtodowassingandthey’dcome.Theyseemedalmosthypnotizedbythesoundofhisvoice.TheywereintriguedbymeandbyStella,buttheywerenervousandwewerenervous,andforthetimebeingwekeptourdistancefromoneanother.

Oneevening,quiteunexpectedly,asIwaswatchingKensukeathisfishing,oneoftheyoungonesclamberedontomylapandbegantoexaminemynosewithhisfinger,andthenheinvestigatedmyear.HepulleditratherharderthanIliked,butIdidn’tyelp.Afterthattherestfollowedsuit,usingmeasifIwereajunglegym.Eventheolderones,thebiggerones,wouldreachoutandtouchmefromtimetotime,butthankfullytheywerealwaysmorereserved,morecircumspect.ButStellastillkeptacertaindistancefromthem,andtheyfromher.

Inallthistime—IsupposeImusthavebeensomemonthsontheisland

bynow—Kensukehadsaidverylittle.ThelittleEnglishhedidspeakwasclearlyhardforhim.Whenwordswereusedbetweenustheyprovedtobeoflittlehelpinourunderstandingofeachother.Soweresortedforthemostparttosmilesandnods,tosigningandpointing.Sometimesweevendrewpicturesinthesandtoexplainourselves.Itwasjustaboutenoughtogetalong.ButtherewassomuchthatIwasburningtofindout.Howhadhecometobehereallaloneontheisland?Howlonghadhebeenhere?Andhowhadhecomebyallthosepotsandpansandtools,andtheknifehealwaysworeinhisbelt?Howcomeoneofhiswoodenchestswasstuffedwithsheets?Wherehadtheycomefrom?Wherehadhecomefrom?Andwhywashebeingsokindtomenow,soconsiderate,whenhehadclearlyresentedmesomuchbefore?ButwheneverIventuredanysuchquestion,hewouldsimplyshakehisheadandturnawayfrommelikeadeafmanashamedofhisaffliction.Iwasneverquitesurewhetherhereallydidnotunderstand,orjustdidnotwanttounderstand.EitherwayIcouldseeitmadehimuncomfortable,soIprobednomore.Questions,itseemed,wereanintrusion.Iresignedmyselftowaiting.

Ourlifetogetherwasalwaysbusy,andregularasclockwork.Upatdawnanddownthetrackalittlewaytobatheinthestreamwhereittumbledcoldandfreshoutofthehillsideintoagreatcauldronofsmoothrocks.Wewouldwashoursheetsandclotheshere,too(he’dmadememyownkimonobynow),slappingandpoundingthemontherocksbeforehangingthemouttodryonthebranchofanearbytree.Breakfastwasathickpulpyfruitjuicethatseemeddifferenteveryday,andbananasorcoconut.Inevertiredofbananas,butverysoonbecamesickofcoconut.Themorningswerespenteitherfishingintheshallowsorfruitgatheringintheforest.Sometimes,afterastorm,wescouredthebeachformoreofhispaintingshells—onlythebiggestandflattestwoulddo—orforflotsamtojointhestackofwoodatthebackofthecave.Thereweretwostacks:oneclearlyforfirewood,theother,Isupposed,reservedforhiswoodwork.Thenitwashometothecavehouseforalunchofrawfish(alwaysdelicious)andusuallybreadfruit(alwaysblandanddifficulttoswallow).Ashortnapafterlunchforbothofusandthenhewouldsettledownathistabletopaint.AsIwatchedIbecamesoengrossedthatthefailinglightofeveningalwayscametoosoonforme.Wewouldcookafishsoupoverthefire.Everythingwentin,headsandtails,—Kensukewastednothing—adozendifferentherbsandtherewerealwaysredbananasafterward,allI

couldeat.Ineverwenthungry.Whensupperwasoverwewouldsittogetheratthemouthofthecaveandwatchthelastofthesundropintothesea.Then,withoutaword,he’dstandup.Wewouldbowsolemnlytoeachother,andhewouldunrollhissleepingmatandleavemetomine.

ToseeKensukeathisworkwasalwaysawondertome—hewassointent,soconcentratedineverythinghedid.Butwatchinghimpaintwasbestofall.Tobeginwithhewouldonlyletmekneelbesidehimandwatch.Icouldsensethatinthis,too,helikedhisprivacy,thathedidnotwanttobedisturbed.Onthetableinfrontofhimheputoutthreesaucers:onesaucerofoctopusink(forKensuke,octopuseswerenotjustforeating),onesaucerofwater,andanotherformixing.Healwaysheldhisbrushveryuprightandverysteadyinhishand,fingersdownoneside,thumbontheother.Hewouldkneelbentoverhiswork,hisbeardalmosttouchingtheshellhewaspainting—Ithinkperhapshewasalittlenearsighted.Iwouldwatchhimforhoursonend,marvelingatthedelicacyofhiswork,atthesurenessofhistouch.

Thenonerainyafternoon—andwhenitrained,howitrained—Ifoundhe’dsetoutashellforme,myownthreesaucers,andmyownpaintbrush.Hetooksuchadelightinteachingme,inmyeveryclumsyattempt.IrememberearlyonItriedtopaintthejellyfishthathadattackedme.Helaughedoutloudatthat,butnotinamockingway,ratherinrecognition,inmemory,ofwhathadbroughtustogether.Ihadalwayslikedtodraw,butfromKensukeIlearnedtoloveit,thattodraworpaintIfirsthadtoobservewell,thensetouttheformofthepictureinmyheadandsenditdownmyarmthroughthetipofthebrushandontotheshell.Hetaughtmeallthisentirelywithoutspeaking.Hesimplyshowedme.

Theevidencethathewasaconsiderablecraftsmanwasallaroundme.Thecavehousemusthavebeenentirelyfurnishedbyhim,fashionedmostlyfromflotsam:thechests,theworkbenchitself,theshelves,thetable.Hemusthavemadetherushmatting,thebamboopaneling,everything.AndoncloseexaminationIcouldseeitwasallperfectlyfinished,nonails,noscrews,justneatdowelling.Hehadusedsomeformofgluewherenecessary,andsometimestwineaswell.Ropesfortree-climbing,fishing-spears,fishing-netsandfishing-rodswerestackedinonecorner(thoughI’dneveryetseenhimusetherods).Hehadtohavemadethemall.

He’dmadehisownpaintbrushesaswell,andIwassoontofindouthow.

Kensukehadafavoriteorangutan,alargefemalehecalledTomodachi,whowouldoftencomeandsitbyhimtobegroomed.Kensukewasgroomingheronedayjustoutsidethemouthofthecavehouse,theotherorangutanslookingon,whenIsawhimquitedeliberatelypluckoutthelongestanddarkesthairsfromherback.Heheldthemuptoshowme,grinningconspiratorially.AtthetimeIdidn’treallyunderstandwhathewasupto.Later,Iwatchedhimathisworkbenchtrimmingthehairswithhisknife,dippingtheminthesapI’dseenhimtapfromatreethatsamemorning,cuttingoutashortlengthofhollowbambooandthenfillingitwithTomodachi’shair.Adaylaterthegluehadhardenedandhehadapaintbrush.Kensukeseemedtohavefoundwaystosatisfyhiseveryneed.

Weweresilentatourpaintingoneday,therainthunderingdownontheforestbelow,whenhestopped,putdownhispaintbrush,andsaidveryslowly,inaverymeasuredway,asifhe’dthoughtabouthowtosayitforalongtime,“Iteachyoupainting,Mica.”(Thiswasthefirsttimehehadevercalledmebymyname.)“YouteachmespeakEnglish.IwantspeakEnglish.Youteachme.”

ItwasthebeginningofanEnglishlessonthatwastolastformonths.Everyday,dawntodusk,ItranslatedtheworldaroundhimintoEnglish.Wedidwhatwehadalwaysdone,butnowItalkedallthewhileandhewouldechoeveryword,everyphrasehewantedto.Hisbrowwouldfurrowwiththeeffortofit.

Itwasasifbysayingeachwordhesimplyswalloweditintohisbrain.Oncetold,oncepracticed,hewouldrarelyforget,andifhedid,hewasalwaysveryannoyedwithhimself.SometimesasIenunciatedanewword,Inoticedthathiseyeswouldlightup.Hewouldbenoddingandsmilingalmostasifherecognizedtheword,asifhewasgreetinganoldfriend.Hewouldrepeatitagainandagain,savoringthesoundofitbeforecommittingittomemoryforgood.And,ofcourse,themorewordsheknew,themorehetriedtoexperimentwiththem.Singlewordsbecameclippedphrases,becameentiresentences.Hispronunciation,though,neverdidimprove,howeverhardhetried.MichaelwasalwaysMica—sometimesMicasan.Nowatlastwecouldtalkmoreeasilytoeachother,thelongsilenceinwhichourfriendshiphadbeenforgedwasover.Ithadneverbeenabarrierbetweenus,butithadbeenlimiting.

Weweresittingbythecavemouthonesunsetwhenhesaid,“YouseenowifIunderstand,Micasan.Youtellmestory,storyofyou,whereyoulive,whyyoucomeheremyisland.Frombabytonow.Ilisten.”

SoIdid.Itoldhimabouthome,aboutmymotherandfather,aboutthebrickfactoryclosing,aboutsoccerwithEddieandtheMudlarks,aboutthePeggySueandourvoyagearoundtheworld,aboutsoccerinBrazilandlionsinAfricaandspidersinAustralia,aboutmymotherbeingill,aboutthenightIfelloverboard.

“Verygood.Iunderstand.Verygood,”hesaidwhenIhadfinished.“So,socceryoulike.WhenIlittle,Iplaysoccer,too.Veryhappytime,longagonow,inJapan,inmyhome.”Hesatinsilenceforsomemoments.“Youverylongwayfromhome,Micasan.Youverysadsometimes.Isee.So,Imakeyouhappy.TomorrowwegofishingandmaybeItellyoumystory,too.Mystory,yourstory,maybesamestorynow.”Thesunhadsuddenlygone.Westoodupandbowedtoeachother.“Oyasuminasai,”hesaid.

“Goodnight,”Isaid.ItwastheonlytimeofthedayheeverspokeJapanese,thoughhedidsinginJapanese—mostly.Ihadtaughthim“TenGreenBottles,”whichalwaysmadehimlaughwhenhesangit.Ilovedhislaugh.Itwasneverloud,moreaprolongedchuckle;butitalwayswarmedmyheart.

Thenextmorning,hepickeduptwoofhisfishing-rodsandanet,andledthewayintotheforest.“Todaywecatchbigfish,Mica,notsmallfish,”heannounced.HewastakingustothepartoftheislandwhereIhadbeenwashedupallthosemonthsbefore,butrarelyhadcausetovisitsince,becausetherewaslittleornofruittobefoundthere.Wehadtobeatadifficultpaththroughtheforestbeforejoiningacliffpaththatwounditswaydowntoahiddensandybay.Asweemergedfromtheforestontothebeach,Stellaranoff,boundingatonceintotheshallows,barkingatmetoplaywithher.

Suddenly,Kensukecaughtmebythearm.“Youlook,Micasan.Whatyousee?”Hiseyeswerefullofmischief.Ididn’tknowwhatIwassupposedtobelookingfor.“Nothinghere,yes?Iverycleverfellow.Youwatch.Ishowyou.”Hemadefortheendofthebeach,andIfollowed.Oncethere,hebegantopullandtugattheundergrowth.Tomysurpriseitsimplycameawayinhishands.Isawfirstwhatlookedlikealoglyinginthesand,butthen,ashedraggedawaymorebranches,Isawitwaspartofaboat,anoutrigger,along,

widedugoutwithaframeofoutriggersoneitherside.Itwascoveredincanvas,whichhefoldedbackveryslowly,chucklingtohimselfashedidso.

Andtherelyinginthebottomoftheboatbesidealongoarwasmysoccerball.Hereachedinandtossedittome.Itwassofternow,andmuchofthewhiteleatherwascrackedanddiscolored,butinplacesIcouldstilljustmakeoutEddie’sname.

Iwasoverjoyed.IhadfoundapartofmethatIthoughtIhadlostforever.“Now,”Kensukesaid,beamingatme.“Nowyouhappyperson,Micasan.Ihappy,too.Wegofishing.ItellyouverysoonwhereIfindthisball.VerysoonItellyoueverything.Littlefishnotsogoodnow.Notsomany.Weneedbigfishsometimesfromdeepsea.Wesmokefish.Thenwehavealwaysplentyfishtoeat.Youunderstand?”

Theoutriggerwasagreatdealheavierthanitlooked.IhelpedKensukedragitdownthebeachandintothesea.“Thisverygoodboat,”hesaidasweliftedStellain.“Thisboatnevergodown.Imakemyself.Verysafeboat.”Hepushedusoffandjumpedin.Ineverceasedtobeamazedathisextraordinaryagilityandstrength.Herowedwithasingleoar,standinginthesternoftheboat,moreasifhewaspunting.Verysoonwewereoutbeyondtheshelterofthecaveandintotheswelloftheopensea.

Clutchingmybelovedball,andwithStellaatmyfeet,Isatwatchinghimandwaitingforhimtobeginhisstory.Iknewbetterthantopesterhimbynow.Thefishingcamefirst.Webaitedoutlinesandsettledsilentlytoourfishing,oneovereachsideoftheboat.Iwasburstingtoaskhimabouttheball,abouthowhe’dfoundit,butIdarednot,forfearhewouldclamupandsaynothing.Itwassometimebeforehebegan,butwhenhediditwaswellworthwaitingfor.

“NowItellyoueverything,Micasan,”hesaid,“likeIpromise.Iamold,butitisnotlongstory.IamborninJapan,inNagasaki.Verybigtown,bythesea.Igrowupinthistown.WhenIyoungmanIstudymedicineinTokyo.SoonIamdoctor,DoctorKensukeOgawa.Iveryproudperson.Ilookaftermanymothers,manybabies,too.Ifirstpersonmanybabiesseeinworld.ThenIgotoLondon.IdostudiesinLondon,Guy’sHospital.Youknowthisplace?”Ishookmyhead.“OfcourseIlearnspeaklittleEnglishthere.

AfterwardIcamebacktoNagasaki.Ihavebeautifulwife,Kimi.ThenIhavelittleson,too,Michiya.Iveryhappypersoninthosedays.Butsoonwarcomes.AllJapanesemenaresoldiersnow,sailorsmaybe.Igotonavy.Idoctoronbigwarship.”

Afishtuggedonhislineandtookhisbait,butnotthehook.Hewentonasherebaitedhishook.“Thiswarverylongtimeagonow.”IdidknowsomethingofawarwithJapan—IhadseenitonTV—butIknewverylittleaboutit.Heshookhishead.“Manydieinthiswar.Thiswarveryterribletime.Manyshipsgodown.Japanesearmywinmanybattles.Japanesenavywinmanybattles.AllJapaneseveryhappypeople.Likesoccer,whenyouwin,youhappy.Whenyoulose,yousad.Igohomeoften,IseemyKimiandmylittleMichiyainNagasaki.Hegrowfast.Alreadybigboy.Weallveryhappyfamily.

“Butwargoonlongtime.ManyAmericanscome,manyships,manyplanes,manybombs.NowwarisnotsogoodforJapan.Wefight,butnowwelose.Verybadtime.Weareinbigseabattle.Americanplanescome.Myshipisbombed.Thereisfireandsmoke.Blacksmoke.Manymenburned.Manymendead.Manyjumpoffshipintosea.ButIstay.Iamdoctor,Istaywithmypatients.Planescomeagain.Manymorebombs.IthinkIamdeadpersonthistimeforsure.ButIamnot.Ilookallaroundship.Allpatientsdead.Allsailorsdead.Iamonlypersonaliveonship,butengineisstillgoing.Shipmovingonherown.Shegonowwhereshewanttogo.Icannotturnwheel.Icandonothing.ButIlistentoradio.Americanssayonradio,bigbombfallonNagasaki,atomicbomb.Manydead.Iverysadperson.IthinkKimidead,Michiyadead.Mymotherlivethere,too,allmyfamily.Ithinktheyalldead.

“SoonradiosayJapansurrender.Isosad,Iwanttodie.”Hefishedinsilenceforawhilebeforehebeganagain.“Soonenginestop,butshipnotgodown.Bigwindcome,bigstorm.IthinkIdieforsurenow.Butseatakeshipandbringmehereonthisisland.Shipcomeontobeach,andstillIamnotdead.

“VerysoonIfindfood.Ifindwateralso.Ilivelikebeggarmanforlongwhile.InsideIfeelbadperson.Ithink,allmyfriendsdead,allmyfamilydead,andIalive.Inotwanttolive.ButsoonImeetorangutans.Theyverykindtome.Thisverybeautiful,verypeacefulplace.Nowarhere,nobadpeople.Isaytomyself,Kensuke,youveryluckypersontobealive.Maybe

youstayhere.“Itakemanythingsfromship.Itakefood,Itakeclothes,sheets.Itake

pots.Itakebottles.Itakeknife.Itakebinoculars.Itakemedicine.Ifindmanythings,manytoolsalso.ItakeeverythingIfind.WhenKensukefinish,notmuchleftonship,Itellyou.Ifindcave.Ihideallthingsincave.Soonterriblestormcome,andshipgoonrocks.Verysoonshegodown.

“OnedayAmericansoldierscome.Ihide.Inotwanttosurrender,nothonorablethingtodo.Iveryafraid,too.Ihideinforestwithorangutans.Americansmakefireonbeach.Theylaughinthenight.Ilisten.Ihearthem.TheysayeveryonedeadinNagasaki.Theyveryhappyaboutthis.Theylaugh.IverysurenowIstayonthisisland.Whygohome?SoonAmericans,theygoaway.Myshipunderwaterbynow.Theynotfindit.Myshipstillhere.Undersandnow,partofislandnow.”

TherustinghullIhadfoundthatfirstdayontheisland!Somuchwasbeginningtomakesensetomenow.Afishtookmylinesuddenly,almostjerkingtherodfrommygrasp.Kensukeleanedacrosstohelpme.Ittookmanyminutesofheavingtobringthefishtothesurface,butbetweenuswemanagedtohaulitin.Wesatbackexhaustedasitflounderedatthebottomoftheboatatourfeet.Itwasmassive,biggereventhanthebiggestfishI’deverseen,thepikemyfatherhadcaughtinthereservoirbackhome.Kensukedispatcheditquickly,asharpblowtothebackoftheneckwiththehandleofhisknife.“Goodfish.Verygoodfish.Youverycleverfishermanperson,Mica.Wegoodtogether.Maybewecatchmorenow.”

Butitwasmanyhoursbeforewecaughtanother,thoughitdidnotseemlikeit.Kensuketoldmeofhislifealoneontheisland,howhehadlearnedtosurvive,toliveofftheland.Helearnedhesaidmostlybywatchingwhattheorangutansate,andwhattheydidnoteat.Helearnedtoclimbastheydid.Helearnedtounderstandtheirlanguage,toheedtheirwarningsignals—thedartingeyes,thenervousscratching.Slowlyhebuiltabondoftrustandbecameoneofthem.

Bythetimewemadeforhomethateveningwiththreehugefishinthebottomoftheboat—tuna,Ithinktheywere—hisstorywasalmostfinished.Hetalkedonasherowed.“AfterAmericans,nomoremencometomyisland.Ialoneheremanyyears.InotforgetKimi.InotforgetMichiya.ButIlive.Thenyearago,maybe,theycome.Verybadpeople,killermen.They

haveguns.Theyhunt.Theyshoot.Isingtomyorangutans.TheycometomewhenIsing.Theyareveryfrightened.Theyallcomeinmycave.Wehide.Killermennotfindus.Butinforesttheyshoot—youtoldmename—gibbonmonkeys.Theyshootmothers.Theytakebabies.Whymusttheydothis?Iveryangry.Ithink,allpeoplekillerpeople.Ihateallpeople,Ithink.Inotwantseepeopleagain.

“ThenonedayIneedbigfishtosmoke,Igofishinginthisboat.Windblowwrongway.Igofarout.Seapullmeawayverystrong.Itrytocomebackmyisland.Itisnogood.Iamold.Armsarenotstrong.Whennightcome,Iamstillfaraway.Iveryfrightened.Ising.Itmakemebrave.Ihearshout.Iseelight.IthinkIdream.ThenIhearanothersonginsea,indark.IcomequickasIcan.IfindyouandStellaandball.Youverynearlydeadperson,Micasan.Stellaverynearlydeaddog.”SoithadbeenKensukewhohadpulledmefromthesea,Kensukewhohadsavedme.Ithadsimplyneveroccurredtome.

“Inmorning,”hewenton,“seabringusagainnearmyisland.Iverygladyounotdead.ButIveryangryperson,too.Iwanttobealone.Inotwanttoseepeople.Forme,allpeoplekillerpeople.Inotwantyouonmyisland.Icarryyou.Ileaveyouonbeach.Ileaveyoufood.Ileaveyouwatersoyounotdie.Butyoumakefire.Iwantpeoplestayaway.Inotwantpeoplefindmehereonmyisland.Maybetheycome.Maybetheyshootorangutan,shootgibbonmonkey.Maybetheyfindme,takemeaway,too.Iveryangryperson.Iputoutfire.Inotwantspeaktoyou.Inotwantseeyou.Idrawlineinsand.

“Bigstormcome,biggestIeversee.Afterstorm,seafullofwhitejellyfish.Iknowthesejellyfish.Verybad.Theytouchyou,youverydead.Iknowthis.Isay,donotswim,verydangerous.VerysoonIseeyoumakebigfireontopofhill.Ithinkyouverywickedperson.Iveryangrynow,andyouveryangry,too.Youswiminsea.Jellyfishsting.Ithinkforsureyoudeadperson.Butyouverystrong.Youlive.Ibringyouintocave.Ihavevinegar.Imakefromberries.Vinegarkillpoison.Youlive,Mica,butforlongtimeyouverysickboy.Youstrongagain,andwefriendsnow.Weverygoodfriends.”

Sothatwasit,thewholestory.Hestoppedrowingforawhile,andsmileddownatme.“Youarelikesontomenow.Wehappypeople.Wepaint.Wefish.Wehappy.Westaytogether.Youmyfamilynow,Micasan.Yes?”

“Yes,”Isaid.Imeantitandfeltit,too.

Heletmetaketheoar,andshowedmehowtorowhisway,standingup,feetplantedwellapart.Itwasn’taseasyashemadeitlook.Clearlyhetrustedmetogetusback,forhesatbackinthebowoftheoutriggertorestandfellasleepalmostatonce,hismouthopen,hisfacesunken.Healwayslookedevenolderwhenheslept.AsIwatchedhimItriedtopicturehisfaceasitmusthavebeenwhenhefirstcametotheislandallthoseyearsago,overfortyyears.Iowedhimsoverymuch.Hehadsavedmylifetwice,fedmeandbefriendedme.Hewasright.Wewerehappy,andIwashisfamily.

ButIhadanotherfamily,too.IthoughtofthelasttimeIhadbeenoutinaboat,ofmymotherandmyfatherandhowtheymustbegrievingformeeveryday,everynight.BynowtheymustsurelybelieveIwasdrowned,thattherewasnochanceIcouldbealive.ButIwasn’tdrowned.Iwasalive.SomehowIhadtoletthemknowit.AsIstruggledtobringtheoutriggerbacktotheislandthatafternoon,Iwasfilledwithasuddenpowerfullongingtoseethemagain,tobewiththem.Icouldstealtheboat,Ithought.Icouldrowaway,Icouldlightafireagain.ButIknewevenasIthoughtitthatIcouldnotdoit.HowcouldIeverleaveKensukenow,afterallhehaddoneforme?HowcouldIbetrayhistrust?Itriedtoputthewholeideaoutofmymind,andIreallybelieveIwouldhave,too.Buttheverynextmorning,IfoundtheplasticCokebottlewasheduponthebeach,andafterthattheideaofescapecamebackandhauntedmedayandnight,andwouldnotleavemebe.

Forsomedays,IkepttheCokebottleburiedunderthesand,whileIwrestledwithmyconscienceor,rather,justifiedwhatIwantedtodo.Itwouldn’treallybeabetrayal,notassuch,Itoldmyself.Evenifthebottlewasfound,noonewouldknowwheretocome;they’djustknowIwasalive.ImadeupmymindIwoulddoit,anddoitassoonasIcould.

Kensukehadgoneoctopusfishing.Ihadstayedbehindtofinishashellpainting—orsoIhadtoldhim.Ifoundanoldsheetatthebottomofoneofhischestsandtoreawayasmallcornerofit.ThenIkneltdownatthetable,stretcheditout,andpaintedmymessageonitinoctopusink:

To:thePeggySue.Fareham.England.DearMomandDad,

Iamalive.Iamwell.Iliveonanisland.Idonotknowwhere.Comeandfindme.

LOVE,

MICHAEL

Iwaiteduntilitwasdry,thenIrolleditup,dugmyCokebottleoutofthesand,slippedinmymessage,andscrewedthebottleuptight.ImadequitesureKensukewasstillintentonhisfishing,andsetoff.

Irantheentirelengthoftheisland,keepingalwaystotheforestsothattherewasnochanceKensukecouldseewhereIwasgoingorwhatIwasupto.Thegibbonshowledtheiraccusationsatmealltheway,theentireforestcacklingandscreechingitscondemnation.IjusthopedStellawouldnotbarkbackatthem,wouldnotbetraywhereIwas.Fortunately,shedidn’t.

AtlastIreachedtherocksunderWatchHill.IleapedfromrocktorockuntilIwasstandingrightattheveryendoftheisland,thewaveswashingovermyfeet.Ilookedaroundme.Stellawastheonlywitness.IhurledthebottleasfarouttoseaasIpossiblycould.ThenIstoodandwatcheditasitbobbedawayandouttosea.Itwasonitsway.

Ididn’ttouchmyfishsoupthatnight.KensukethoughtIwasill.Icouldhardlytalktohim.Icouldn’tlookhimintheeye.Ilayallnightindeeptorment,rackedbymyguilt,yetatthesametimestillhopingagainsthopethatmybottlewouldbepickedup.

KensukeandIwereatourpaintingthenextafternoonwhenStellacamepaddingintothecave.ShehadtheCokebottleinhermouth.Shedroppeditandlookedupatme,pantingandpleasedwithherself.

Kensukelaughedandreacheddowntopickitup.Ithinkhewasabouttohandittomewhenhenoticedtherewassomethinginsideit.BythewayhelookedatmeIwasquitesureheknewatoncewhatitwas.

Therefellbetweenusalongandachingsilence.KensukeneveroncereproachedmeforwhatIhaddone.Hewasnotangryorsullenatme.ButIknewIhadhurthimtothesoul.Itwasn’tthatwedidn’tspeak—wedid—butwenolongertalkedtoeachotheraswehadbefore.Welivedeachofusinourseparatecocoons,quitecivil,alwayspolite,butnottogetheranymore.Hehadclosedinonhimselfandwrappedhimselfinhisthoughts.Thewarmthhadgonefromhiseyes,thelaughterinthecavehousewassilenced.Heneversaidso—hedidnotneedto—butIknewthatnowhewouldprefertopaintalone,tofishalone,tobealone.

So,dayafterday,IwanderedtheislandwithStella,hopingwhenIreturnedthathemighthaveforgivenme,thatwecouldbefriendsagain.Butalwayshekeptthatdistancebetweenus.Igrievedformylostfriendship.IrememberIwentoftennowtotheotherendoftheisland,toWatchHill,andsatthereandsatthere,nolongerlookingoutforships,butrehearsingaloudmyexplanation.ButnomatterhowmuchIrehearsedit,howIreasonedit,IcouldneverconvinceevenmyselfthatwhatIhaddonewasanythingotherthantreachery.Intheend,asitturnedout,itwasKensukewhoexplainedittome.

WehadjustgonetobedonenightwhenTomodachicametothemouthofthecaveandsquattedthere.Shehaddonethisonceortwicelately,stayedforjustafewminutes,peeredinatusandgoneoffagain.Kensukespokeupinthedarkness.“SheloseKikanboagain,”hesaid.“Shealwaysloseherbaby.Kikanboverywickedbaby.Herunoffalot.HemakeTomodachiverysadmother.”Heclappedhishandsather,shooingheraway.“Kikanbonothere,Tomodachi.Nothere.”ButTomodachistayed,Ithinkforcomfortmorethananythingelse.Ihadnoticedbeforewiththeorangutans,howtheywouldoftencometoKensukewhentheywereupsetorfrightened,justtobenearhim.

AfterawhileTomodachislunkoffintothenightandleftusaloneagain,withthedinoftheforestandthesilencebetweenus.

“Ithinkmanythoughts,”Kensukesaidsuddenly,outofthesilence.“Youaresleeping,Micasan?”Hehadnotcalledmebymynameforweeks,eversincetheCokebottleincident.

“No,”Isaid.“Verygood.Igotlottosay.Youlisten.Italk.Ithinkmanythoughts.

WhenIthinkofTomodachi,Ithinkofyourmother.Yourmother,she,too,loseherbaby.Sheloseyou.Thatverysadthingforher.Maybeshecomelooking,andshenotfindyou.Younottherewhenshecome.Shethinkyoudeadforever.Butsheseeyouinhermind.NowasIspeakmaybesheseeyouinhermind.Youalwaysthere.Iknow.Ihaveson,too.IhaveMichiya.Healwaysinmyhead.LikeKimi.Theydeadforsure,buttheyinmyhead.Theyinmyheadforever.”

Foralongwhilehedidnotsayanotherword.Ithoughthehadgonetosleep.Thenhespokeagain.“ItellyoueverythingIthink,Micasan.Itbestway.IstayonthisislandbecauseIwantstayonthisisland.IdonotwantgohomeJapan.Differentthingforyou.Youwantgobackhomeacrossthesea,andthatrightthing,goodthingforyou.Butnotgoodforme.Forme,verysadthing.ManyyearsIlivealonehere.Ihappyhere.Thenyoucome.Ihateyouwhenyoufirstcome.Butafterlittlewhileyouarelikesontome.IthinkmaybeIlikefathertoyou,youlikesontome.Iverysadnowwhenyougo.Iliketalkwithyou.Ilikelisten.Ilikesoundwhenyouspeak.Iwantyoustayhereonthisisland.Youunderstand?”

“Ithinkso,”Isaid.“Butyoudooneverybadthing.Wefriends,butyounottellmewhatyou

feel.Younotsaywhatyoudo.Thatnothonorablethingtodo.WhenIfindbottle,whenIreadwords,Iverysadpersonindeed.ButafterlittlewhileIunderstand.Ithinkmaybeyouwantstayherewithme,andyouwantalsogohome.Sowhenyoufindbottle,youwritemessage.Youdonotsaywhatyoudobecauseyouknowitmakemesad.Iright,yes?”

“Yes,”Isaid.“Youveryyoungperson,Micasan.Youpaintgoodpicture,verygood

picture,likeHokusai.Youhavelonglifewaitingforyou.Youcannotlivewholelifeonthisislandwitholdmanwhodieoneday.So,thinkinglikethis,

Ichangemymind.Youknowwhatwedotomorrow?”Hedidn’twaitformetoanswer.“Westartbuildnewfire,bigfire.Wereadythenforwhenweseeship.Thenyougohome.Andalsowedoanotherthing.Weplaysoccer,you,me.Whatyousay?”

“Allright.”ItwasallIcouldsay.Hehadinjustthosefewmomentsliftedthewholeweightofguiltoffmyshouldersandgivenmesuchhappiness,suchnewhope.

“Verygood.Verygood.Yousleepnow.Wedolotofworktomorrow,lotofsocceralso.”

Thenextmorningwebeganbuildingabeacononthehilltopabovethecavehouse.Weusedmostofthepileoffirewoodwehadcollectedforthecookingfireandstoredinthedryareaatthebackofthecave—heevensacrificedsomeofhisbestpiecesofdriftwood.Itwasn’tfartocarryit,sobeforelongwehadenoughtomakeasizablefire.Kensukesaiditwoulddoforthemoment,thatwecouldfindmorefromtheforest,moreandmoreeachdayaswewanted.“Wesoonhavefiresobig,theyseeinJapanmaybe.”Helaughed.“Wehavelunchnow,thensleep,thensoccer.Yes?”

Laterthatafternoonwesetupsticksinthesandforagoalandtookturnsshootingateachother.Theballwasverysoft,soitdidn’tbounceanybetteronthesandthanithadbackonthemudoftheplaygroundbackhome,butitdidn’tmatter.Kensukemayhavecarriedastick,hemayhavebeenasoldasthehills,buthecouldkickasoccerballwellenoughtoputitpastme,andoften,too.

Whatatimewehad.Neitherofuswantedittoend.Withacrowdofbemusedorangutanslookingon,withStellainterferingandchasingaftereverygoalscored,wewereatittilldarknessdroveusatlastbackupthehill.Wewerebothtootiredtodomorethanhavealongdrinkofwater,eatabananaortwo,andgotooursleepingmats.

ItwasafterourreconciliationthatIcametoknowKensukebetterthanIeverhadbefore.HisEnglishbecamemoreandmorefluent,andheclearlylovedtospeakitnow.Forsomereasonhewasalwaysmorehappytotalkwhilewewereoutfishinginhisoutrigger.Wedidnotgooutthatoften,onlywhenthefishingwassopoorintheshallowsthatweneededtocatchbigfishforsmokingandkeeping.

Onceatsea,thestoriessimplyflowed.Hetalkedagreatdealofhis

childhoodinJapan,ofhistwinsisterandhowtheworstthinghe’deverdonewastopushheroutofthetreeintheirbackyard,howshe’dbrokenherarm,howwhenhepaintedthatcherrytreeitalwaysremindedhimofher.Butshe,too,hadbeeninNagasakiwhenthebombfell.IrememberheeventoldmetheaddressofwherehelivedwhenhewasstudyinginLondon—No.22ClanricardeGardens;Ihaveneverforgottenit.Once,hehadgonetowatchChelseaplayingsoccerandafterwardhe’dsatastridealioninTrafalgarSquareandbeenchasedawaybyapoliceman.

ButitwasKimiandMichiyahetalkedofmost,abouthowhewishedhecouldhaveseenMichiyagrowup.Michiya,hesaid,wouldhavebeennearlyfiftybynowifthebombhadn’tfallenonNagasaki,andKimiwouldbeexactlythesameageashewas,seventy-five.Irarelyinterruptedhimwhenhewaslikethis,butoncetocomforthim,Ididsay,“Bombsdon’tkilleveryone.Theycouldstillbealive.Youneverknow.Youcouldfindout.Youcouldgohome.”Helookedatmethenasifitwasthefirsttimesuchapossibilityhadeveroccurredtohiminallthoseyears.“Whynot?”Iwenton.“Whenweseeashipandwelightthefireandtheycomeandfetchme,youcouldcome,too.YoucouldgobacktoJapan.Youdon’thavetostayhere.”

Hethoughtaboutitforsometime,butthenshookhishead.“No,”hesaid.“Theyaredead.Thatbombwasverybigbomb,veryterriblebomb.AmericanssayNagasakiisdestroyed,everyhouse.Ihearthem.Myfamilydeadforsure.Istayhere.Isafehere.Istayonmyisland.”

Dayafterdaywepiledmoreandmorewoodonthebeacon.Itwasmassivenow,biggereventhantheoneIhadbuiltonWatchHill.Everymorningnowbeforewewentdowntothepooltowash,Kensukewouldsendmeuptothetopofthehillwithhisbinoculars.Ialwaysscannedthehorizonbothinhopeandintrepidation.Ilongedtoseeaship,ofcourseIdid.Ilongedtogohome.ButatthesametimeIdreadedwhatthatwouldmean.IfeltsomuchathomewithKensuke.Thethoughtofleavinghimfilledmewithaterriblesadness.IdeterminedtodoallIcouldtopersuadehimtocomeawaywithme,ifandwhenashipcame.

AteveryopportunitynowItalkedtohimoftheoutsideworld,andthemoreItalked,themoreheseemedtobecomeinterested.Ofcourse,Ineverspokeofthewarsandfaminesanddisasters.IpaintedthebestpictureoftheworldoutsidethatIcould.Therewassomuchhedidn’tknow.Hemarveledat

allItoldhim,atthemicrowaveinourkitchen,atcomputersandwhattheycoulddo,attheConcordeflyingfasterthanthespeedofsound,atmengoingtothemoon,andatsatellites.Thesethingstooksomeexplaining,Icantellyou.Someofithedidn’tevenbelieve,notatfirst.

Thetimecamewhenhebegantoquizme.InparticularhewouldaskaboutJapan.ButIknewverylittleaboutJapan,onlythatbackhomeinEnglandlotsofthings,includingourmicrowave,had“madeinJapan”writtenonthem:cars,calculators,myfather’sstereo,mymother’shairdryer.

“I‘madeinJapan’person.”Helaughed.“Veryoldmachine,stillgood,stillverystrong.”

TryasIdidtotrawlmymemory,afterawhileIcouldfindnothingmoretotellhimaboutJapan,buthewouldstillkeepasking.“YousuretherenowarinJapanthesedays?”Iwasfairlycertaintherewasn’t,andsaidso.“TheybuildupNagasakiagainafterbomb?”Itoldhimtheyhad,andhopedIwasright.AllIcoulddowastoreassurehimasbestIcould,andthentellhimthesamefewthingsIdidknowaboutoverandoveragain.Heseemedtolovetohearit,likeachildlisteningtoafavoritefairystory.

Once,afterI’dfinishedexpoundingyetagainontheamazingsoundqualityofmyfather’sSonystereothatmadethewholehousevibrate,hesaidveryquietly,“MaybeonedaybeforeIdieIgobacktomyhome.OnedayIgobacktoJapan.Maybe.”Iwasn’tsurehemeantit,butitdidmeanthathewasatleastconsideringit,andthatgavemesomecauseforhope.Itwasn’tuntilthenightoftheturtles,though,thatIcametobelieveKensukewasreallyseriousaboutit.

Iwasfastasleepwhenhewokeme.“Youcome,Micasan.Veryquicklyyoucome.Youcome,”hesaid.

“Whatfor?”Iaskedhim,buthewasalreadygone.Iranoutafterhimintothemoonlightandcaughthimhalfwaydownthetrack.“Whatarewedoing.Wherearewegoing?Isitaboat?”

“Verysoonyousee.Verysoon.”Stellastayedatmyheelsallthewaytothebeach.Sheneverlikedgoingoutinthedarkverymuch.Ilookedaround.Therewasnothingthere.Thebeachlookedcompletelydeserted.Thewaveslappedlistlessly.Themoonrodetheclouds,andtheworldfeltstillaboutmeasifitwereholdingitsbreath.IdidnotseewhatwashappeninguntilKensukesuddenlyfellonhiskneesinthesand.“Theyverysmall.Sometimes

theyarenotsostrong.Sometimesinthemorningbirdscomeandeatthem.”AndthenIsawit.

Ithoughtitwasacrabatfirst.Itwasn’t.Itwasaminusculeturtle,tinierthanaterrapin,clamberingoutofaholeinthesandandthenbeetlingoffdownthebeachtowardthesea.Thenanother,andanother,andfartherdownthebeachdozensofthem,hundredsIcouldseenow,maybethousands,allscuttlingacrossthemoonlitsandintothesea.Everywhere,thebeachwasalivewiththem.Stellawasnosingatone,soIwarnedheroff.Sheyawnedandlookedinnocentlyupatthemoon.

Isawthatoneofthemwasonitsbackatthebottomofthehole,legskickingfrantically.Kensukereacheddown,pickeditupgently,andsetitonitsfeetinthesand.“Yougotosea,littleturtle,”hesaid.“Youlivetherenow.Yousoonbebig,fineturtle,andthenonedayyoucomebackandseememaybe.”Hesatbackonhishaunchestowatchhimscuttleoff.“Youknowwhattheydo,Mica.Motherturtles,theylayeggsinthisplace.Then,onenighttimeeveryyear,alwayswhenmoonishigh,littleturtlesareborn.Longwaytogotosea.Verymanydie.SoalwaysIstay.Ihelpthem.Ichasebirdsaway,sotheynoteatbabyturtles.Manyyearsfromnow,whenturtlesarebig,theycomeback.Theylayeggsagain.Truestory,Micasan.”

Allnightlongwekeptourvigiloverthemassbirthastheinfantturtlesmadetheirrunforit.Wepatrolledtogether,reachingintoeveryholewefoundtoseeiftherewereanyleft,stuck,orstranded.Wefoundseveraltooweaktomakethejourney,andcarriedthemdownintotheseaourselves.Theseaseemedtorevivethem.Awaytheywent,noswimminglessonsneeded.Weturneddozensright-sideupandshepherdedthemsafelyintothesea.

Whendawncameandthebirdscamedowntoscavenge,weweretheretodrivethemoff.Stellachasedandbarkedafterthem,andweranatthem,shrieking,waving,hurlingstones.Wewerenotentirelysuccessful,butmostoftheturtlesmadeitdownintothesea.Butevenheretheywerestillnotentirelysafe.Inspiteofallourdesperateefforts,afewwerepluckedupoutofthewaterbythebirdsandcarriedoff.

Bynoonitwasallover.Kensukewastiredaswestoodankledeepinthewaterwatchingtheverylastofthemswimaway.Heputhisarmonmyshoulder.“Theyverysmallturtles,Micasan,buttheyverybrave.Theybraverthanme.Theydonotknowwhattheyfindoutthere,whathappentothem;

buttheygo,anyway.Verybrave.Maybetheyteachmegoodlesson.Imakeupmymind.Whenonedayshipcome,andwelightfire,andtheyfindus,thenIgo.LiketurtlesIgo.Igowithyou.IgohometoJapan.MaybeIfindKimi.MaybeIfindMichiya.Ifindtruth.Igowithyou,Micasan.”

Shortlyafterthis,therainscameandforcedustoshelterfordaysonendinsidethecavehouse.Thetracksbecametorrents,theforestbecameaswamp.Ilongedforthehowlofthegibbonsinsteadoftheroaroftherainonthetreesoutside.Itdidnotraininfitsandstartsasitdidathome,butconstantly,incessantly.Iworriedoverourbeacon,whichwasbecomingmoresaturatednowwitheverypassingday.Woulditeverdryout?Wouldthisraineverstop?ButKensukewasstoicalaboutitall.“Itstopwhenitstop,Micasan,”hetoldme.“Youcannotmakerainstopbywantingittostop.Besides,rainverygoodthing.Keepfruitgrowing.Keepstreamflowing.Keepmonkeysalive,youalso,mealso.”

Ididmakeadashuptothehilltopeachmorningwiththebinoculars,butIdon’tknowwhyIbothered.Sometimesitwasrainingsohard,Icouldhardlyseetheseaatall.

Occasionallywesalliedoutintotheforesttogatherenoughfruittokeepusgoing.Therewereberriesgrowinginabundancenow,whichKensukeinsistedongathering—hedidn’tseemtomindgettingsoakedtotheskinasmuchasIdid.Weatesome,butmostheturnedintovinegar.Theresthebottledinhoneyandwater.“Forrainyday,yes?”Helaughed.(Helovedexperimentingwiththenewexpressionshehadpickedup.)Weatealotofsmokedfish—healwaysseemedtohaveenoughinreserve.Itmademeverythirsty,butInevertiredofit.

Iremembertherainyseasonmoreforthepaintingwedidthanforanythingelse.Wepaintedtogetherforhoursonend—untiltheoctopusinkranout.ThesedaysKensukewaspaintingmorefromhismemory—hishouseinNagasaki,andseveralportraitsofKimiandMichiyastandingtogether,alwaysunderthecherrytree.Thefaces,Inoticed,healwaysleft

veryindistinct.Heonceexplainedthistome.(HewasmoreandmorefluentnowinhisEnglish.)

“Irememberwhotheyare,”hesaid.“Irememberwheretheyare.Icanheartheminmyhead,butIcannotseethem.”

Ispentdaysperfectingmyfirstattemptatanorangutan.ItwasofTomodachi.Shewouldoftencrouch,soulfulanddripping,atthecavemouth,almostasifshewereposingforme.SoItookfulladvantage.

Kensukewasecstaticinhisdelightatmypainting,andlavishinhispraise.“Oneday,Micasan,youwillbefinepainter,likeHokusai,maybe.”Thatwasthefirstshellpaintingofminehekeptandstoredawayinhischest.Ifeltsoproud.Afterthatheinsistedonkeepingmanyofmyshellpaintings.Hewouldoftentakethemoutofthechestandstudythemcarefully,showingmewhereImightimprove,butalwaysgenerously.Underhiswatchfuleye,intheglowofhisencouragement,everypictureIpaintedseemedmoreaccomplished,morehowIwantedittobe.

Thenonemorningthegibbonswerehowlingagainandtherainshadstopped.Wewentfishingintheshallows,outatsea,too,andhadverysoonreplenishedourstoresofsmokedfishandoctopusink.Weplayedsocceragain.Andallthewhilethebeacononthehilltopwasdryingout.

Whereverwewentnowwetookthebinocularswithus,justincase.WeverynearlylostthemoncewhenKikanbo,Tomodachi’serrantson—alwaysthecheekiest,mostplayfulofalltheyoungorangutans—stolethemandranoffintotheforest.Whenwecaughtupwithhimhedidn’twanttosurrenderthematall.IntheendKensukehadtobribehim—aredbananaforapairofbinoculars.

Butastimepassedwewerebeginningtoliveasifweweregoingtobestayingontheislandforever,andthatbegantotroublemedeeply.Kensukemaderepairstohisoutrigger.Hemademorevinegar.Hecollectedherbsanddriedtheminthesun.Andheseemedlessandlessinterestedinlookingforaship.Heseemedtohaveforgottenallaboutit.

Hesensedmyrestlessness.Hewasworkingontheboatonedayand,everhopeful,Iwasscanningtheseathroughthebinoculars.“Itiseasierwhenyouareoldlikeme,Micasan,”hesaid.

“Whatis?”Iasked.“Waiting,”hesaid.“Onedayashipwillcome,Micasan.Maybesoon,

maybenotsosoon.Butitwillcome.Lifemustnotbespentalwayshoping,alwayswaiting.Lifeisforliving.”Iknewhewasright,ofcourse,butonlywhenIwaslostandabsorbedinmypaintingwasItrulyabletoobliterateallthoughtsofrescue,allthoughtsofmymotherandfather.

IwokeonemorningandStellawasbarkingoutsidethecavehouse.Igotupandwentoutafterher.Atfirstshewasnowheretobeseen.WhenIdidfindher,shewashighuponthehill,halfgrowling,halfbarking,andherhackleswereup.Isoonsawwhy.Ajunk!Asmalljunkfarouttosea.IscrambleddownthehillandmetKensukecomingoutofthecavehousebucklinghisbelt.“There’saboat!”Icried.“Thefire!Let’slightthefire!”

“FirstIlook,”saidKensuke.And,despiteallmyprotestations,hewentbackintothecavehouseforhisbinoculars.Iracedupthehillagain.Thejunkwascloseenoughtoshore.Theywouldbeboundtoseethesmoke.Iwassureofit.Kensukewasmakinghiswayuptowardmeinfuriatinglyslowly.Heseemedtobeinnohurryatall.Hestudiedtheboatcarefullynowthroughhisbinoculars,takinghistimeaboutit.

“We’vegottolightthefire,”Isaid.“We’vegotto.”Kensukecaughtmesuddenlybythearm.“Itisthesameboat,Micasan.

Killermencome.Theykillthegibbonsandstealawaythebabies.Theycomebackagain.Iamverysure.Idonotforgettheboat.Ineverforget.Theywerewickedpeople.Wemustgoquick.Wemustfindallorangutans.Wemustbringthemintothecave.Theybesaferthere.”

Itdidnottakehimlongtogatherthemin.Aswewalkedintotheforest,Kensukesimplybegantosing.

Theymaterializedoutofnowhere,intwos,inthrees,untilwehadfifteenofthem.Fourwerestillmissing.Wewentdeeperanddeeperintotheforesttofindthem,Kensukesingingallthewhile.Thenthreemorecamecrashingthroughthetrees,Tomodachiamongstthem.Onlyonewasstillmissing:Kikanbo.

Standingthereinaclearingintheforest,surroundedbytheorangutans,KensukesangforKikanboagainandagain,buthedidnotcome.Thenweheardamotorstartup,somewhereoutatsea,anoutboardmotor.Kensukesangoutagainloudernow,moreurgently.WelistenedforKikanbo.Welookedforhim.Wecalledforhim.

“Wecannotwaitanylonger,”saidKensukeatlast.“Igoinfront,

Micasan,youbehind.Bringlastoneswithyou.Quicknow.”Andoffhewent,upthetrack,leadingoneoftheorangutansbythehand,andstillsinging.Aswefollowed,IrememberthinkingthatthiswasjustlikethePiedPiperleadingthechildrenawayintoacaveinthemountainside.

Ihadmyworkcutoutattheback.Someofyoungerorangutanswerefarmoreinterestedinplayinghide-and-seekthanfollowing.IntheendIhadtoscoopuptwoofthemandcarrythem,oneinthecrookofeacharm.Theywereagreatdealheavierthantheylooked.IkeptglancingbackovermyshoulderforKikanbo,andcallingforhim,buthestilldidnotcome.

Theoutboardmotordied.Iheardvoices,loudvoices,men’svoices,laughter.Iwasrunningnow,theorangutansclingingaroundmyneck.Theforesthootedandhowledinalarmallaroundme.

AsIreachedthecaveIheardthefirstshotsringout.Everybird,everybatintheforestliftedoffsothatthescreechingskywasblackwiththem.Wegatheredtheorangutanstogetheratthebackofthecaveandhuddledthereinthedarknesswiththem,astheshootingwentonandon.

Ofallofthem,Tomodachiwasthemostagitated.ButtheyallneededconstantcomfortandreassurancefromKensuke.AllthroughthisdreadfulnightmareKensukesangtothemsoftly.

Thehunterswerenearer,evernearer,shootingandshouting.Iclosedmyeyes.Iprayed.TheorangutanswhimperedaloudasiftheyweresingingalongwithKensuke.AllthiswhileStellalayatmyfeet,apermanentgrowlinherthroat.Iheldontotheruffofherneck,justincase.Theyoungorangutansburrowedtheirheadsintomewherevertheycould,undermyarms,undermyknees,andclungon.

Theshotscrackedsoclosenow,splittingtheairandechoingaroundthecave.Thereweredistantyellsoftriumph.Iknewonlytoowellwhatthismustmean.

Afterthat,thehuntmovedaway.Wecouldhearnomorevoices,justtheoccasionalshot.Andthennothing.Theforesthadfallensilent.Westayedwherewewereforhours.Iwantedtoventureouttoseeiftheyhadgone,butKensukewouldnotletme.Hesangallthetime,andtheorangutansstayedhuddledaroundus,untilweheardthesoundoftheoutboardmotorstartingup.EventhenKensukestillmademewaitawhilelonger.Whenatlastwedidemerge,thejunkwasalreadywellouttosea.

WesearchedtheislandforKikanbo,sangforhim,calledforhim,buttherewasnosignofhim.Kensukewasindeepdespair.Hewasinconsolable.Hewentoffonhisown,andIlethimgo.Icameacrosshimshortlyafter,kneelingoverthebodiesoftwodeadgibbons,bothmothers.Hewasnotcrying,buthehadbeen.Hiseyeswerefilledwithhurtandbewilderment.Wedugawayaholeinthesoftearthontheedgeoftheforestandburiedthem.Therewerenowordsinmelefttospeak,andKensukehadnosongslefttosing.

Weweremakingoursorrowfulwaybackhomealongthebeachwhenithappened.Kikanboambushedus.Hecamechargingoutofthetrees,scatteringsandatus,andthenclimbedupKensuke’slegandwrappedhimselfaroundhisneck.Itwassuchagoodmoment,agreatmoment.

ThatnightKensukeandIsang“TenGreenBottles”overandoveragain,veryloudly,overourfishsoup.Itwas,Isuppose,asortofwakeforthetwodeadgibbons,aswellasanodetojoyforKikanbo.Theforestoutsideseemedtoechooursinging.

ButintheweeksthatfollowedIcouldseethatKensukewasbroodingontheterribleeventsofthatday.Hesetaboutmakingacageofstoutbambooatthebackofthecavetohousetheorangutansmoresecurelyincasethekillermeneverreturned.Hekeptgoingoverandoverit,howheshouldhavedonethisbefore,howhewouldneverhaveforgivenhimselfifKikanbohadbeentaken,howhewishedthegibbonswouldcomewhenhesang,sohecouldsavethem,too.Wecutdownbranchesandbrushfromtheforestandstackedthemoutsidethecavemouthsothattheycouldbepulledacrosstodisguisetheentrancetothecavehouse.

Hebecameverynervous,veryanxious,sendingmeoftentothehilltopwiththebinocularstoseeifthejunkhadreturned.Butastimewentby,astheimmediatethreatreceded,hebecamemorehisownselfagain.Evenso,Ifelthewasalwayswary,alwaysslightlyonedge.

Becausehewaskeepingsomanyofmypaintingsnow,wefoundwewererunningoutofgoodpaintingshells.So,earlyonemorningwesetoffonanexpeditiontofindsomemore.Wescouredthebeach,headsdown,sidebyside,justafewfeetapart.Therewasalwaysanelementofcompetitionwithourshellcollecting—whowouldfindthefirst,thebiggest,themostperfect.Wehadnotbeenatitlong,andneitherofushadyetfoundasingleshell,

whenIbecameawarethathehadstoppedwalking.“Micasan,”hebreathed,andhewaspointingouttoseawithhisstick.

Therewassomethingoutthere,somethingwhite,buttoodefined,tooshaped,tobeacloud.

Wehadleftthebinocularsbehind.WithStellayappingatmealltheway,Iracedbackalongthebeachandupthetracktothecavehouse,grabbedthebinoculars,andmadeforthetopofthehill.Asail!Twosails.Twowhitesails.Iboundeddownthehillside,backintothecave,andpulledoutalightedstickfromthefire.BythetimeIreachedthebeacon,Kensukewasalreadythere.Hetookthebinocularsfrommeandlookedforhimself.

“CanIlightit?”Iasked.“CanI?”“Allright,Micasan,”hesaid.“Allright.”Ithrustthelightedstickdeepintothebeacon,inamongstthedryleaves

andtwigsatitscore.Itlitalmostinstantly,andverysoonflameswereroaringupintothewood,lickingoutatusasthewindtookthem.Webackedawayatthesuddenheatofit.Iwasdisappointedthereweresomanyflames.Iwantedsmoke,notflames:Iwantedtoweringcloudsofsmoke.

“Donotworry,Micasan,”Kensukesaid.“Theyseethisforsure.Yousee.”

Wetookturnswiththebinoculars.Still,theyachthadnotturned.Theyhadnotseenit.Thesmokewasbeginningtobillowupintothesky.DesperatelyIthrewmoreandmorewoodontothefire,untilitwasaroaringinfernoofflameanddensesmoke.

Ihadthrownonalmosttheverylastofthewoodwehadcollected,whenKensukesaidsuddenly,“Micasan,itiscoming.Ithinktheboatiscoming.”

Hehandedmethebinoculars.Theyachtwasturning.Itwasverydefinitelyturning,butIcouldn’tmakeoutwhetheritwastowardusorawayfromus.“Idon’tknow,”Isaid.“I’mnotsure.”

Hetookthebinocularsoffme.“Itellyou,Micasan,itcomethisway.Theyseeus.Iamverysure.Itcometoourisland.”

Momentslater,asthewindfilledthesails,Iknewhewasright.Wehuggedeachotherthereonthehilltopbesidetheblazingbeacon.Ileapedupanddownlikeawildthing,andStellawentmadwithme.EverytimeIlookedthroughthebinocularsnow,theyachtwascomingincloser.

“She’sabigyacht,”Isaid.“Ican’tseeherflag.Darkbluehull,likethe

PeggySue.”Onlythen,asIsaiditoutloud,didIbegintohopethatitcouldpossiblybeher.Graduallyhopeturnedtobelief,andbelieftocertainty.Isawabluecap,mymother’scap.Itwasthem!Itwasthem!“Kensuke,”Icried,stilllookingthroughthebinoculars.“Kensuke,it’sthePeggySue.Itis.They’vecomebackforme.They’vecomeback.”ButKensukedidnotreply.WhenIlookedaround,Idiscoveredhewasnotthere.

Ifoundhimsittingatthemouthofthecavehouse,withmysoccerballinhislap.Helookedupatme,andIknewalreadyfromthelookinhiseyeswhathewasgoingtotellme.

Hestoodup,puthishandsonmyshoulders,andlookedmedeepintheeyes.“Youlistentomeverygoodnow,Micasan,”hesaid.“Iamtoooldforthatnewworldyoutellmeabout.Itisveryexcitingworld,butitisnotmyworld.MyworldwasJapan,longtimeago.Andnowmyworldishere.Ithinkaboutitforlongtime.IfKimiisalive,ifMichiyaisalive,thentheythinkIamdeadlongtimeago.Iwouldbelikeghostcominghome.Iamnotsameperson.Theynotsame,either.And,besides,Ihavefamilyhere,orangutanfamily.Maybekillermencomeagain.Wholookafterthemthen?No,Istayonmyisland.Thisismyplace.ThisisKensuke’sKingdom.Emperormuststayinhiskingdom,lookafterhispeople.Emperordoesnotrunaway.Nothonorablethingtodo.”

Icouldseetherewasnopointinpleadingorarguingorprotesting.Heputhisforeheadagainstmineandletmecry.“Yougonow,”hewenton,“butbeforeyougo,youpromisethreethings.First,youpainteverydayofyourlife,soonedayyoubegreatartistlikeHokusai.Second,youthinkofmesometime,oftenmaybe,whenyouarehomeinEngland.Whenyoulookupatfullmoon,youthinkofme,andIdosameforyou.Thatwayweneverforgeteachother.Lastthingyoupromiseandveryimportantforme.Veryimportantyousaynothingofthis,nothingofme.Youcomeherealone.Youalonehereinthisplace,youunderstand?Inothere.Aftertenyears,yousaywhatyoulike.Allthatleftofmethenisbones.Itnotmatteranymorethen.Iwantnoonecomelookingforme.Istayhere.Ilivelifeinpeace.Nopeople.Peoplecome,nopeace.Youunderstand?Youkeepsecretforme,Mica?Youpromise?”

“Ipromise,”Isaid.Hesmiledandgavememysoccerball.“Youtakeball.Youverygoodat

soccer,butyouverymuchbetterpainter.Yougonow.”Andwithhisarmaroundmyshoulderhetookmeoutside.“Yougo,”hesaid.Iwalkedawayonlyalittlewayandturnedaround.Hewasstillstandingatthemouthofthecave.“Yougonow,please.”Andhebowedtome.Ibowedback.“Sayonara,Micasan,”hesaid.“Ithasbeenhonortoknowyou,greathonorofmylife.”Ihadn’tthevoicetoreply.

Blindedwithtears,Iranoffdownthetrack.Stelladidn’tcomeatonce,butbythetimeIreachedtheedgeoftheforestshehadcaughtupwithme.SheracedoutontothebeachbarkingatthePeggySue,butIstayedwhereIwas,hiddenintheshadowofthetrees,andcriedoutallmytears.IwatchedthePeggySuecomesailingin.Itwasindeedmymotherandmyfatheronboard.TheyhadseenStellabynowandwerecallingtoher.Shewasbarkinghersillyheadoff.Isawtheanchorgodown.

“Good-bye,Kensuke,”Iwhispered.Itookadeepbreathandranoutontothesandwavingandyelling.

Isplashedoutintotheshallowstomeetthem.MymotherjustcriedandhuggedmetillIthoughtI’dbreak.Shekeptsayingoverandoveragain,“Didn’tItellyouwe’dfindhim?Didn’tItellyou?”

Thefirstwordsmyfathersaidwere,“Hello,monkeyface.”

***

Foralmostayearmymotherandfatherhadsearchedforme.Noonewouldhelpthem,fornoonewouldbelieveIcouldstillbealive—notachanceinamillion,theysaid.Myfather,too—helateradmitted—hadgivenmeupfordead.Butnevermymother.SofarasshewasconcernedIwasalive,Ihadtobealive.Shesimplyknewitinherheart.Sotheyhadsailedfromislandtoisland,searchingonuntiltheyhadfoundme.Notamiracle,butfaith.

Fouryearsafterthisbookwasfirstpublished,Ireceivedthisletter.

DearMichael,Iwritetotellyou,inmybadEnglish,thatmynameisMichiya

Ogawa.IamthesonofDr.KensukeOgawa.UntilIreadyourbookIthoughtmyfatherhaddiedinthewar.Mymotherdiedonlythreeyearsagostillbelievingthis.Asyousayinyourbook,welivedinNagasaki,butwewereverylucky.Beforethebombfellwewentintothecountrysidetoseemygrandmotherforafewdays.Sowelived.

Ihavenomemoriesofmyfather,onlysomephotographsandyourbook.Itwouldbeapleasuretotalktosomeonewhoknewmyfatherasyoudid.Maybeonedaywecouldmeet.Ihopeso.

WITHMYBESTWISHES,

MICHIYAOGAWA

AmonthafterreceivingthisletterIwenttoJapan,andImetMichiya.Helaughsjustlikehisfatherdid.

MichaelMorpurgo,aformerChildren’sLaureateofGreatBritain,isthedistinguishedauthorofnumerousbooksforadultsandchildren,includingWarHorse,nowamajormotionpicture,andthecompanionbook,FarmBoy.HisotherbooksincludeTheAmazingStoryofAdolphusTipsandPrivatePeaceful.Kensuke’sKingdomwasthewinneroftheFederationofChildren’sBookGroups’BookAward;ithasalsobeenadaptedforthestage.MichaellivesinDevon,England,withhiswife,Clare.

Copyright©1999byMichaelMorpurgo.Allrightsreserved.PublishedbyScholasticInc.SCHOLASTICandassociatedlogosaretrademarksand/orregisteredtrademarksofScholasticInc.

FirstpublishedintheUnitedKingdombyHeinemannYoungBooksLtd.FirstAmericanprinting,March2003

CoverartbyDavidStimsonCoverdesignbySteveScott

e-ISBN978-0-545-30013-1

AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.Nopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,decompiled,reverseengineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofthepublisher.Forinformationregardingpermission,writetoScholasticInc.,Attention:PermissionsDepartment,557Broadway,NewYork,NY10012.