Seas of South Africa Read Online Free PDF Page B

and tell them what you know. But what could I tell them—that a man had grabbed me, sank a boat that probably belonged to somebody else, and almost killed a bird? What if they didn’t believe me? What proof did I have? None. Still, I knew in my heart that he had come here to steal someone else’s boat, and I didn’t think he would hesitate to kill somebody to get it.
    I paddled a little closer and looked carefully at the beach. There was no one on the sand, but there were lights beneath the palm trees and between small houses. The houses were made of stone and wood and had thatched roofs. I could hear music playing and voices laughing. It sounded like cafés.
    I stared at the dinghy. I felt an urge to just run up on the beach, puncture its skin with my jackknife, and run back. Then, the air would leak out, and he couldn’t motor out and steal someone’s boat. At least it would slow him down. I reached into my pocket. Rats! I wasn’t carrying my knife. There must be something else I could do?
    I paddled to the beach, climbed out, and crept up to the dinghy with my head down. My heart was beating fast. If I had more time, I might try to open the casing of the outboardmotor and pull out some wires. Instead, I unscrewed the gas tank, reached down, grabbed handfuls of sand, and poured them into the tank. I moved as quickly as I could, and kept looking up the beach to see if anyone was coming. I poured a lot of sand into that tank. The engine might start, but it sure wouldn’t go far. The pirate was going to be furious. At least now he would know that somebody was watching him, and knew what he was up to.
    I put the cap back on, turned to go, and froze. There was a little old man sitting on the sand in the dark not more than fifteen feet away from me. He had been watching me the whole time. He looked as though he had been hired to watch the dinghy, yet he never did anything. I looked at him to see if he was going to yell out, but he just stared as if he were staring right through me, as if he didn’t even see me. I figured he didn’t want to see me. He didn’t want to get caught in the middle of trouble. And he must have known there was trouble coming.
    I ran back to the kayak, jumped in, and paddled away. I paddled all the way around the island and back to the fort. Along the way, I saw a sailboat motoring towards the south of the island from the open sea. It was hard to see in the dark, but I thought I saw the silhouettes of several people on deck. There were no lights on the boat, which was strange, though I didn’t give it much thought at the time. I paddled back to a spot just beyond the sub, tied up the kayak, climbed the wall, and jumped into the fort.
    I would have liked to walk around the fort, explore the dungeons, and climb the cannon, but I couldn’t stop now. I had to find the police station. Maybe I could explore on my way back. I cut through the big courtyard, climbed over the front gate, and headed towards the centre of the island. I was hungry now. If Mozambique Island had 12,000 people, maybe it had pizza, too. Maybe I could find one after talking to the police.
    I crossed a sandy soccer field and a treed park and found myself on a street with houses. There were people sitting outside as I went down the street. I smiled and waved at them, and they smiled and waved back. I had learned that people in other countries will always be friendly to you if you smile at them. Most of the people in the world are really friendly.
    There were lots of houses, and a few stone buildings with shops and offices in them. Everything was old. All of the roofs on the houses were thatched, but the roofs of the buildings were made of clay shingles. It was a warm night, and the atmosphere in the town was relaxed and friendly. I heard music. Then, I saw a few cafés. I knew I had to watch out for the pirate now. But he would be easy to spot. He would stand out from these people like a