blue eyes stared back at the thin exhausted-looking boy, lying huddled in a corner of the tarpaulin. For one moment Toby thought the man was going to call out to his pirate mates, but then the man put his finger to his lips to hush Toby.
“Quiet, lad,” he whispered. “I’ve nae seen you.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you so much …” Toby whispered tearfully back.
“Aye, well, I had a lad of my own once …” the pirate whispered back. “Now, stay clear of this lot. Get as far from here as you can. They’re trouble!”
And with that, he dropped the tarpaulin back down. “Just a load of old junk!” he shouted across to the waiting pirates. “Enough of these games. Let’s head back to the ship, quick!”
Toby, his heart still racing, lay listening to the retreating footsteps as the pirate returned to the dinghy.
In a few minutes, the waves in the harbour steadied and dropped to a gentle bobbing. The pirates had goneback to their warship. The boats stopped their ghastly groaning and quiet fell again in the harbour.
Toby heaved himself up on to shaky legs that tingled with pins and needles. He knew he must find the others and get away from the harbour. He stumbled to the back of the boat and tugged at the anchor. It was stuck; it was really stuck, embedded in something on the seabed. He pulled and pulled with all his strength, but it wouldn’t budge. There was only one thing for it: he had to cut the rope. It would mean the loss of the anchor, but he needed to find his dad and Sylvie quickly. He had a horrible feeling that the pirates hadn’t had all their fun from Peterhead harbour. He was sure that they would come back, and soon.
Once he had cut the rope, he swung the boat back to the quay to where it had been before. Sprinting up the ladder and along the quay to the shed, he knocked tentatively on the door.
“Dad? You still there?” he cried. “You can come out now, they’ve gone.”
There was no answer.
Toby carefully opened the door. Inside the shed it was dark and cobwebby. He bent down to pick something off the floor. It was a teddy. It was Sylvie’s teddy, but where was Sylvie?
He crept further into the shed. It had been a fisherman’sbothy where he would have stored ropes, provisions, nets and nylon for mending them. There was a stack of dusty lobster creels in one corner, and in another corner a tarpaulin lay draped over something lumpy.
Toby flinched with fright.
“Dad?” he gasped. Toby edged forward slowly, and nudged the lump with his foot. Nothing.
Toby grabbed the corner of the tarpaulin and yanked it off whatever lay underneath.
“Oh, what a fright you gave me!” he cried. There, cuddled up in the corner on a pile of old sheeting, were his dad and Sylvie. They were both fast asleep.
“Dad! Come on! We must go!” Toby was enjoying being the one in charge now.
“Huh?” groaned his dad sleepily. Toby shook him vigorously.
“Dad, come on, wake up. They might be back. One of them saw me — but he let me go … and then I thought I was going to get crushed! Come on, quick, and I’ll tell you all about it!”
“I must’ve been tired. I can’t believe I slept through all of that … They saw you?” said his father, shaking his head in disbelief as he bent down to scoop up the sleepy Sylvie.
“Wait a minute,” cried Toby. “I’m going to bring a couple of these with me. They might come in handy.” Hegrabbed a couple of the dusty lobster pots from the pile in the corner and, struggling out the door, made his way back to the boat.
The three of them were soon back on board the Lucky Lady . Toby struggled to stow the heavy jerrycans on deck, whilst his father took Sylvie back to her bed. After lashing two of the cans safely together and emptying the other one into the fuel tank, Toby went to find his dad. He was washing all the dust and grit from Sylvie’s face and hands.
“We’d better get going, Dad,” said Toby breathlessly. “Are we going home
“Quiet, lad,” he whispered. “I’ve nae seen you.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you so much …” Toby whispered tearfully back.
“Aye, well, I had a lad of my own once …” the pirate whispered back. “Now, stay clear of this lot. Get as far from here as you can. They’re trouble!”
And with that, he dropped the tarpaulin back down. “Just a load of old junk!” he shouted across to the waiting pirates. “Enough of these games. Let’s head back to the ship, quick!”
Toby, his heart still racing, lay listening to the retreating footsteps as the pirate returned to the dinghy.
In a few minutes, the waves in the harbour steadied and dropped to a gentle bobbing. The pirates had goneback to their warship. The boats stopped their ghastly groaning and quiet fell again in the harbour.
Toby heaved himself up on to shaky legs that tingled with pins and needles. He knew he must find the others and get away from the harbour. He stumbled to the back of the boat and tugged at the anchor. It was stuck; it was really stuck, embedded in something on the seabed. He pulled and pulled with all his strength, but it wouldn’t budge. There was only one thing for it: he had to cut the rope. It would mean the loss of the anchor, but he needed to find his dad and Sylvie quickly. He had a horrible feeling that the pirates hadn’t had all their fun from Peterhead harbour. He was sure that they would come back, and soon.
Once he had cut the rope, he swung the boat back to the quay to where it had been before. Sprinting up the ladder and along the quay to the shed, he knocked tentatively on the door.
“Dad? You still there?” he cried. “You can come out now, they’ve gone.”
There was no answer.
Toby carefully opened the door. Inside the shed it was dark and cobwebby. He bent down to pick something off the floor. It was a teddy. It was Sylvie’s teddy, but where was Sylvie?
He crept further into the shed. It had been a fisherman’sbothy where he would have stored ropes, provisions, nets and nylon for mending them. There was a stack of dusty lobster creels in one corner, and in another corner a tarpaulin lay draped over something lumpy.
Toby flinched with fright.
“Dad?” he gasped. Toby edged forward slowly, and nudged the lump with his foot. Nothing.
Toby grabbed the corner of the tarpaulin and yanked it off whatever lay underneath.
“Oh, what a fright you gave me!” he cried. There, cuddled up in the corner on a pile of old sheeting, were his dad and Sylvie. They were both fast asleep.
“Dad! Come on! We must go!” Toby was enjoying being the one in charge now.
“Huh?” groaned his dad sleepily. Toby shook him vigorously.
“Dad, come on, wake up. They might be back. One of them saw me — but he let me go … and then I thought I was going to get crushed! Come on, quick, and I’ll tell you all about it!”
“I must’ve been tired. I can’t believe I slept through all of that … They saw you?” said his father, shaking his head in disbelief as he bent down to scoop up the sleepy Sylvie.
“Wait a minute,” cried Toby. “I’m going to bring a couple of these with me. They might come in handy.” Hegrabbed a couple of the dusty lobster pots from the pile in the corner and, struggling out the door, made his way back to the boat.
The three of them were soon back on board the Lucky Lady . Toby struggled to stow the heavy jerrycans on deck, whilst his father took Sylvie back to her bed. After lashing two of the cans safely together and emptying the other one into the fuel tank, Toby went to find his dad. He was washing all the dust and grit from Sylvie’s face and hands.
“We’d better get going, Dad,” said Toby breathlessly. “Are we going home
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