no good as I might have missed. So just as the Great Blue went in for the kill, I stabbed upwards with the boathook, thrusting it in with all my strength.
âOh, that is ⦠revolting!â
I jumped back. Botcher ran. I could hear Martin throwing up. The Great Blue crashed to the deck and began writhing. Peggy was over next to me then, taking the boathook and telling me to get out of the way. She stuck the hook in again, aiming for its heart. For an old lady she was stringy but strong. She pulled the boathook out again and rammed it in once more, as if she and sky-sharks had an old grievance, and she was getting her own back for past losses, and finally settling old scores.
The sky-shark let out the most awful gasp, fighting for breath and survival. It thrashed over the deck, its huge body crushing and knocking things aside. Then it flapped its fins and managed to get briefly back into the air, like it might manage to escape. But its strength gave out and it crashed again onto the boat, with a horrendous screech coming from it. There was the sound of things breaking as it twisted around on deck, then it finally stopped moving, and at last it was still and quiet, and just lay there in a pool of blood, on top of the now-smashed solar panels.
âIs it dead?â
Martin approached it.
âJust wait, Martin.â
Peggy stood, boathook in hand. She gave the shark a couple of prods.
âItâs OK. Itâs gone.â
Botcher ventured near. All bravery and swagger now, as if heâd killed the sky-shark himself. But when those huge jaws twitched again, in the throes of death, he was off like a harpoon to the far end of the boat.
âWhat are we going to do with it?â Martin said. âAnd the stink!â He was right. It didnât smell too good. âAnd whatâs
that
?â
Sky-lice were crawling away from the dead shark.
âRats,â Peggy said. âDeserting the sinking ship.â
She stamped on them.
âAnd we donât want them either.â
âBut what are we going to do with it?â Martin said.
âThrow it overboard.â
âHow? I mean, look at its teeth.â Then he got covetous. âCan I pull one out? As a souvenir?â
âMartin! Stay away.â
âOnly looking.â
âGet the winch over.â
There was a winch fixed to the deck. It had an arm that could swivel around and was generally used for loading. We swung it about and got some ropes and nets connected under the shark and then used the winch to hoist it up. Then we moved the winch, released the ropes, and dropped the carcass over the side.
âLook ââ
Martin was at the rail, face down, head poked over, watching it fall. It hadnât gone far before all the local predators were after it, chasing it down through the sky, hoping to get a couple of bites in before it fell into the sun.
âOh wow ⦠And that could have been us.â
âAnd look at this. Just great. Just what we need.â
Peggy was standing looking down at the solar panels, every one of them broken.
âAny of them working, Gran?â I said.
âI donât think so. Some might be repairable â if we had the parts. But I donât carry that many spares. The rest, theyâll need replacing.â
Martin looked at the wreckage.
âOh dear,â he said.
âYes, Martin,â Peggy said. âOh dear.â And that was about as near to reproaching him as she got. âOh dear, indeed.â
âSorry,â Martin said. âAbout the leftovers. I never thought ⦠I didnât realise for a moment that theyâd attract ââ
âWell, we know now.â
âSo what are we going to do, Peggy?â
âHead for land, I guess. Not much choice. Try and make some repairs.â
âWeâve still got the wind sails.â
Peggy wet a finger and held it up.
âGot the wind sails, but donât have the air to
âOh, that is ⦠revolting!â
I jumped back. Botcher ran. I could hear Martin throwing up. The Great Blue crashed to the deck and began writhing. Peggy was over next to me then, taking the boathook and telling me to get out of the way. She stuck the hook in again, aiming for its heart. For an old lady she was stringy but strong. She pulled the boathook out again and rammed it in once more, as if she and sky-sharks had an old grievance, and she was getting her own back for past losses, and finally settling old scores.
The sky-shark let out the most awful gasp, fighting for breath and survival. It thrashed over the deck, its huge body crushing and knocking things aside. Then it flapped its fins and managed to get briefly back into the air, like it might manage to escape. But its strength gave out and it crashed again onto the boat, with a horrendous screech coming from it. There was the sound of things breaking as it twisted around on deck, then it finally stopped moving, and at last it was still and quiet, and just lay there in a pool of blood, on top of the now-smashed solar panels.
âIs it dead?â
Martin approached it.
âJust wait, Martin.â
Peggy stood, boathook in hand. She gave the shark a couple of prods.
âItâs OK. Itâs gone.â
Botcher ventured near. All bravery and swagger now, as if heâd killed the sky-shark himself. But when those huge jaws twitched again, in the throes of death, he was off like a harpoon to the far end of the boat.
âWhat are we going to do with it?â Martin said. âAnd the stink!â He was right. It didnât smell too good. âAnd whatâs
that
?â
Sky-lice were crawling away from the dead shark.
âRats,â Peggy said. âDeserting the sinking ship.â
She stamped on them.
âAnd we donât want them either.â
âBut what are we going to do with it?â Martin said.
âThrow it overboard.â
âHow? I mean, look at its teeth.â Then he got covetous. âCan I pull one out? As a souvenir?â
âMartin! Stay away.â
âOnly looking.â
âGet the winch over.â
There was a winch fixed to the deck. It had an arm that could swivel around and was generally used for loading. We swung it about and got some ropes and nets connected under the shark and then used the winch to hoist it up. Then we moved the winch, released the ropes, and dropped the carcass over the side.
âLook ââ
Martin was at the rail, face down, head poked over, watching it fall. It hadnât gone far before all the local predators were after it, chasing it down through the sky, hoping to get a couple of bites in before it fell into the sun.
âOh wow ⦠And that could have been us.â
âAnd look at this. Just great. Just what we need.â
Peggy was standing looking down at the solar panels, every one of them broken.
âAny of them working, Gran?â I said.
âI donât think so. Some might be repairable â if we had the parts. But I donât carry that many spares. The rest, theyâll need replacing.â
Martin looked at the wreckage.
âOh dear,â he said.
âYes, Martin,â Peggy said. âOh dear.â And that was about as near to reproaching him as she got. âOh dear, indeed.â
âSorry,â Martin said. âAbout the leftovers. I never thought ⦠I didnât realise for a moment that theyâd attract ââ
âWell, we know now.â
âSo what are we going to do, Peggy?â
âHead for land, I guess. Not much choice. Try and make some repairs.â
âWeâve still got the wind sails.â
Peggy wet a finger and held it up.
âGot the wind sails, but donât have the air to
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