Read Online Wild Jack by John Christopher - Free Book Online Page A

sea, featureless except for the broad flickering path cast by the moon.
    I said to Kelly, “Is there any particular destination in mind, or do we just drift?”
    He pointed at the moon. “As long as that’s on our left, we’re heading roughly east. The coast of France is almost due east.”
    But nine miles away, I remembered. I said, “What sort of speed do you think we’re making?”
    Kelly shook his head. “No idea.”
    He sounded very cheerful, a good deal more cheerful than I felt. Much as I had hated life in the camp, I was beginning to see certain advantages to it—things like food and solid ground. And the possibility that at any moment a guard might yell, “Anderson, report to the commandant’s office!” Maybe on first parade tomorrow . . . but it would do me no good now.
    The island dwindled, fading into the moonlit haze of sea and sky. I became conscious of the empti­ness of my stomach. It was six hours or more since supper, which had been only watery stew since we had saved our bread for Sunyo.
    I thought of something else and said to Kelly, “Water. . . .”
    â€œYes.” He laughed. “You don’t realize how much of it there is in the sea.”
    â€œDrinking water. We haven’t got any.”
    After a pause, he said, “Yes. That was a bit stupid. I didn’t think.”
    I looked at the vague, distant smudge of the island.
    â€œDo you think we ought to go back and get some?”
    â€œNo chance. It’s not just the tide—what wind there is would be against us.”
    We were silent again. Kelly said, “Less than ten miles to France. If it takes all night we won’t be too bad. We’re not going to die of thirst before morning.”
    It was meant to be cheerful, and I supposed I ought to have been able to say something cheerful back, but I could not think of anything. Sunyo lay wrapped in blankets, and Kelly and I sat upright, watching the sea in silence.
    It must have been half an hour later that I said, “The moon.”
    It was moving very slowly across the sky, from its station on our left hand to a position dead ahead. That was the impression. The reality was that the boat was swinging north in a current far stronger than the gentle following wind.
    Kelly said, “Yes, I’ve seen it.” He sounded grimmer. “The tide must run really fierce between the island and the French coast.”
    â€œWhat happens now?”
    â€œIt will take us north into the main part of the English Channel. It should ease after that. We might find enough wind to take us back to France.”
    â€œAnd if we don’t get the wind?”
    â€œWell, there’s land to the north as well, isn’t there? The south coast of England.”
    â€œNot nine miles away, though. More like seventy.”
    â€œSure. We won’t be in for breakfast.”
    â€œAnd the tide may not take us north. It could take us west, into the ocean.”
    â€œYou’re a great little ray of sunshine.” The grimness had turned angry. “You got any other comforting speculations to offer?”
    â€œWhen I told you how mad the scheme was,” I said, “you wouldn’t listen. And apart from that, you just forgot to bring any drinking water along. You’ve been doing very well so far.”
    â€œShut up,” Kelly said. “We didn’t ask you to come, Mr. Councillor’s son. Swim back, and welcome. If you don’t feel like doing that, shut up.”
    He was angry and afraid, as I was too. I thought of several cutting things but did not say them. My mouth felt dry. Suddenly, despite the coolness of the night, I was very thirsty.
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    The weather deteriorated. It was first apparent in a freshening of the wind and increased choppiness of the waves. It freshened from the wrong quarter, from the southeast. Our chances of getting to France were