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

and padded across to the other wall. Using the piece of timber he began scraping at the earth, scooping it to one side until he had made a hole two feet long and over a foot deep. Room enough for him to squeeze through. With the pit dug he crept over to the door to see if the guard was still asleep and found that he was. The man snored softly, his head rising and falling on his chest.
    With his heart beating quickly, Strickland returned to his work and began carefully to pull away the rotten wood. The bamboo was brittle and gave easily and soon there was an opening large enough for him to crawl through. The pilot lay down on thefloor and started to inch his way through the narrow gap. Wriggling from side to side he eased his body through the hole, his shirt occasionally snagging against the bamboo, until first his head, then his shoulders and finally his torso emerged on the other side. With his upper body now free, the prisoner hauled himself out of the gap.
    Strickland stayed crouched on all fours and waited in the lee of the hut, watching and listening. But he could hear nothing. The camp was asleep. The air was pure and still and looking up, he could see the stars scattered in a brilliant dust across the night sky. A sliver of moon hung in the heavens and shone like a newly turned blade.
    The pilot got to his feet and walked stealthily through the camp, keeping to the shadows. Beyond the trees he could see the water of the harbour glimmer like some dark stone. He headed towards the forest, his bare feet falling silently across the earth. Once he had made the line of trees he waited and looked back at the camp for the last time. The place was quiet, not even a lamp shone in the gloom.
    Strickland turned and headed into the trees, making his way down the path towards the beach. The palms loomed up on either side as he slipped like a ghost between the trunks, the creepers occasionally brushing against his face as he went. As he neared the harbour he could hear the distant boom of the waves crashing against the reef. He stopped at the edge of the forest and gazed at the pale expanse of beach. It was deserted. On the other side of the ink-dark water was the pier, the patrol boat a solitary silhouette against the night sky.
    The pilot left the safety of the trees and felt the cold, hard sand beneath his feet as he made his way down towards the shore. He waded into the water, its oily caress like a balm against his skin. When the water reached his waist Strickland dived under and holding his breath, he swam as far as he could before breaking the surface. His head emerged and he took a lungful of air and struck out towards the jetty. There was no noise except thegentle splash of his swimming and, farther off, the echoing reef. The pilot swam quickly, the boat looming up ahead of him. He soon made it to the pier and grasping one of the barnacled piles, he hauled himself out of the water and up onto the jetty. He saw an oil drum and hid behind it, his body dripping onto the wooden boards. He looked and waited, but there was no one about.
    Strickland got to his feet, picked up the gangplank, placed it across the gunwale and boarded the boat, pulling the bridge in after him. He walked up the side and went into the wheelhouse to search for a knife and found one hanging by the radio set. He took it and swiftly cut the ropes which secured the boat. With the vessel now free, the pilot returned to start the engine. He entered the wheelhouse and searched about in the gloom for the key to the ignition box. Strickland’s hands felt something smooth and metallic and holding it up, he saw he had found what he was looking for. He put the key into the lock and pressed the starter button, the boat’s engines roaring into life.
    The noise instantly woke the camp and the place was filled with commotion, as men ran about yelling at each other. Hayama leapt naked from his bed and realising the prisoner must have escaped, he grabbed his sword and ran