CHAPTER TWELVE

And then I saw the light. It was feeble. It came and went. There was some guy flashing a torch. I thought he must be on a boat sailing without navigation lights. You’re not meant to do that: sail around at night with no lights on your boat. True, I had no lights either, but I’d had to leave in a hurry. I peered into the darkness, trying to see the other boat. I wanted to avoid a collision. The light flashed again, it was right down at water level. The light wasn’t on a boat. There was some madman in the middle Gulf St Vincent swimming around with a waterproof torch. You meet some nutters.

Then it hit me. The guy had been washed overboard. That’s why he was swimming around miles from land in the middle of a storm. I would have to rescue him. And I’d only get one chance. If I missed him, there’d be no turning back for another try. If I turned side on to these waves, I was a goner.

I strained my eyes in the darkness. The light flashed. I changed course slightly, aiming for the place where the flash had been. What if the guy didn’t see me coming? What if I ran him over? My own torch was on a string round my neck. I grabbed it and shone it straight ahead. I looked for the answering flash, but there wasn’t one. Maybe the guy was facing the other way. He would be, wouldn’t he? He’d be keeping the back of his head to the wind. I had an idea. I raised the beam of my torch slightly and shone it at the sail. This would give the guy in the water a better chance of seeing me if he turned his head. The sail was higher and there was a lot of it. The dragon’s head breathed fire in the torch light.

Suddenly I saw the guy’s light again—he was waving it wildly. He’d seen me and he wasn’t very far away. He was slightly to one side. I changed course as much as I dared and aimed straight for him.

Everything happened very quickly. A wave broke over the raft. The guy grabbed the side. I saw him briefly in the torchlight. Then I had to drop the torch and scramble over to him, abandoning the rudder. I grabbed his wrist. The sea dragged at him. I almost went overboard myself. I was flat on the deck, holding the guy with one hand, trying to hold onto the deck with the other. Too late. The guy grabbed me with both hands. I lost my grip. I went over the side. The water engulfed me. I grabbed at the guy. He was wearing a life jacket, which was more than I was. There was a violent tug at my waist.

The rope. My homemade safety harness. I’d forgotten about that. I was being pulled along behind the raft. And the guy and I were hanging on to each other. Spluttering. Choking on seawater.

I don’t know how long it took us to get back onto the raft. But we did it. There were rope burns on my hands. My guts felt like they’d been squeezed by a boa constrictor. I was half drowned, gasping. But I was back on deck and so was the other guy. He was lying beside me coughing.

“Don’t ever drink, mate,” the guy yelled at me above the wind.

“Drink?” I yelled back.

“The demon rum,” the guy yelled. “I had a few.... You know, we’d won the race. We were celebrating on the way back.... Went on deck for a leak. And then.... There was this big wave.”

I don’t know how long the guy had been in the water. But one thing was obvious: he was still drunk. I don’t think he quite understood what was happening.

“Go and hang out in the cabin,” I shouted. “It’ll stop you getting washed overboard again.”

“Cabin?” the guy said, sitting up and looking around. “Holy Cow! What is this thing?”

“My raft,” I said. “She’s the Dragon Raft. Now get into the cabin. I’ve got to steer.”

“You’re that crazy kid,” the guy shouted. “One of those crazy kids.”

There was a flash of recognition. The last time I’d seen this joker he’d been wearing a towel round his neck and waving an angry beer can at me and Billy.

“Yeah, I’m one of the crazy kids,” I yelled back at him. “And you’re the bloke who reckons this is a heap of junk.”

“Changed me mind,” the guy shouted. “I reckon this is the Royal Yacht. Where are we going?”

“South,” I yelled.

“Wherever,” the guy said and half stumbled half slipped over to the cabin. He was lucky to get there without going overboard again.

I got the rudder under control and looked around. The sky was slightly lighter to the east. Daybreak was coming. The torch was still on its lanyard round my neck. I flashed it at the cabin. The guy was safe enough. He was out of it, sound asleep, slumped against the side of the crate like a giant drowned rat.

He slept for three or four hours. When he woke up he wasn’t drunk anymore and he said his name was Jim. I handed over the steering to Jim and collapsed in the cabin myself.