Читать книгу The Forgotten Map - Cameron Stelzer - Страница 9

This was a storm.

It wasn’t a warm sun shower on a spring afternoon. It wasn’t the soft drizzle of winter rain. It was the drenching downpour of a tropical cyclone.

A small boat drifted helplessly on the night sea. Its sail hung in tatters. It disappeared into the water with every passing wave before bobbing up again in a shower of spray. These were giant waves for a tiny boat.

A mother sat cradling her crying infant while two others battled the storm. Every crashing wave meant another bucket to bail. All they could do was drift, stay afloat and hope.

Through the waterfall of rain falling from the sky, a faint light appeared. It was lantern light, warm and inviting. It grew brighter as it moved closer. Soon more lanterns emerged, shining like angelic fireflies on a rescue mission. Surrounded by the lights, the dark silhouette of a ship appeared.

Cries of relief rang out from the small boat, and through the deafening noise of the storm, a reply was heard.

At the moment of hope, the storm intensified its fury. Waves hammered the small boat from all directions. Rescue was close, yet disaster seemed closer.

With the mighty crash of an enormous wave, a small figure was swept head first into the churning water. He vanished beneath the waves.

For a moment there was peace. No sound of the raging storm above, no blinding sting of the salty wind, just the cold calm world beneath the surface. His body relaxed as he drifted into unconsciousness and slowly sank into the dark unknown.

As the blackness closed in, his mind began to wander through distant memories: diving with turtles in aqua lagoons … rolling down hills with armadillos … soaring through the air with flying foxes …

His mind hovered on the last memory. It was all he could see. It was sunny, he was happy and he was soaring through the air.

Was it trying to tell him something? What did it mean, soaring through the air?

Then he understood. It wasn’t what he was doing that mattered, it was where he was – in the air.

He needed air.

The realisation came to him with a searing pain in his lungs and a throbbing in his head. The pain woke his body. Suddenly he was fighting for survival.

He frantically tried to guess which way was up – all around was darkness. As panic set in, he began to kick his legs. His lungs burned with pain as he moved through the water, but the pressure in his head began to lighten – he was headed in the right direction.

Finally, his head pierced the surface of the water and the silence of the ocean was replaced by the roar of the storm.

His heaving lungs gasped for air.

He’d barely taken a breath when a wave smashed over him, filling his mouth with stinging salt water. Coughing and spluttering, he tried to wipe the water from his eyes before the next wave hit.

He looked around. His small boat was barely visible in the distance. But it was afloat. He swivelled his body and peered up … in horror. Towering over him, like a prehistoric monster, was the dark shape of the ship.

Before he had time to cry out, a wave struck him from behind and his body was thrown towards the hull of the ship. His head smashed into rough wooden boards with an agonising THUD. Splinters and barnacles dug into his arm. He felt the sleeve of his shirt tear from his body as he dropped backwards into the foaming surf.

With arms outstretched in surrender, he watched the lights of the ship swirl before his eyes. Everything became a blur.

Struggling to remain conscious, he felt strong arms reach down and grab hold of him. He was dragged from the ocean, hauled to safety. He felt the comforting hardness of the ship’s deck beneath his limp body and the reassuring whispers of voices around him.

He tried to look up. Through the relentless rain, all he could see was one eye staring down at him. And with a whiff of stale pie, he heard two words yelled into the raging storm.

‘I PROMISE!’

Then his world went black.