Read Online Under the Sun by Justin Kerr-Smiley - Free Book Online Page A

island and he was a keen entomologist. It helped fill the long periods of time between the daily reports that he made. Hayama would often go off on solitary expeditions into the forest armed only with a large butterfly net and a notebook. When he found a new specimen he would measure its wingspan, record its sex and type andsketch it. If he had not seen it before, or if it was a particularly fine example, he would take it home and add it to his collection. He picked one up in a pair of tweezers and held the lepidoptera up to the window, admiring its blue iridescent wings as they shone in the afternoon light. Just as Charles Darwin had noted with his South American finches, so the captain was convinced the surrounding islands contained several different varieties of the same species, each uniquely adapted to its own habitat. After the war he intended to donate his collection to the entomology department at his old university in Nagasaki. He was sure they would be glad to have it.
    While the captain sat in his cabin admiring his butterfly collection , his prisoner began to stir from his slumber. Strickland woke to find himself in the same position on the storeroom floor. In all that time he had not even moved. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, but the light which poured through the gaps in the bamboo was burnished by the evening sun and he assumed that it must have been for some hours. Sitting up he felt his body, which was cut and bruised. His ribs ached and he prodded his sides to see if any bones had been broken. Although the flesh was tender, he could not feel any fractures. Furthermore he could still see out of his right eye, which he had managed to protect during the last assault.
    The pilot realised he must act. He doubted he could survive another beating and knew he had to escape. The boat was his only chance. If he was caught, he would certainly be killed. But he also knew that he would die if he did not. Either from a beating, or rotting away in the fetid darkness of his prison.
    Strickland crept over to the door and peering beneath it, he could make out the boots of the soldier standing guard outside. He returned and sat down in the corner to think. He could try and get the soldier to enter the hut, but was unsure if he had the strength to overpower him. If he failed the element of surprise would be lost and the alarm would be raised. He would have to find another way. The pilot looked at the bamboo walls besidehim, which seemed sturdy enough. He leant against the wood and tried to loosen the vines which bound them, but they were securely fastened. He looked up at the roof and could see that it was solid and well built. It had to be in order to keep out the monsoon rains. That meant the only other option was the floor.
    The prisoner sat down on his haunches and using a discarded piece of timber, began to dig away at the foundations and was surprised to discover that although the bamboo went to a depth of a foot, the wood itself was rotten. While the poles above the ground were solid, those in the earth had been weakened by damp and bored into by beetles and were full of holes. The other buildings in the camp were raised on stilts above the ground, but the storeroom had been built into the earth to stop the rats from getting in underneath. Although the rodents had been thwarted, the wood had rotted with time. Strickland sat back against the rough palisade of bamboo and found himself smiling. He would wait until nightfall and dig himself out.
    The sun set beyond a darkening sea and the day’s heat was replaced by a cooler air. As dusk descended a new moon rose above the camp and the birds and monkeys in the surrounding forest fell silent. The pilot listened and waited. Everything was quiet. He crept over to the door to spy on the guard. At first he could see nothing. Then, looking to one side, he saw the soldier had slumped to the ground and was fast asleep. Strickland realised he would have to work quickly