Wild Jack by John Christopher Page A

swaying.
    â€œNow,” the guard said. “Down.”
    Sunyo threw himself forward, reaching for theguard’s throat, but it was a pitiable attempt. One hand sent him spinning across the stockade. The guard laughed.
    â€œStill not learned your lesson, monkey? Never mind, there’s plenty of time. All the time in the world.”
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    That night Kelly and I went back to the stockade. The rain had stopped and there were fitful indications of moonlight behind the clouds, but it was very dark. We threw our hunks of bread over to Sunyo, but there was not enough light for him to find them.
    I was sorry for him, but also angry. I was hungry myself and could have eaten the bread, which now lay somewhere on the wet floor of the stockade. And there was no reason for him to be there, no reason for carrying on this futile business. And the word I had been expecting from the commandant’s office had not come yet.
    Kelly tossed over the blankets, which Sunyo managed to retrieve. Kelly talked to him, trying to convince him he must give up. He was very weak now and bound to get rapidly weaker. Kelly was very earnest and persuasive. But when he finallystopped, there was only silence from the other side of the fence.
    I said bitterly, “He isn’t even listening.”
    â€œI’m listening,” Sunyo said feebly. “But it doesn’t do any good. I will not submit to that pig. I can’t. The words would choke me.”
    â€œWhich would you sooner do,” I asked, “—choke or starve? Because you’re starving to death in there. You can only really defy him by staying alive, and you need strength for that.”
    â€œI can’t do it.”
    We both argued with him, but with no success. We left him in the end and set off back toward the tent. The clouds were breaking up, showing the light of a three-quarter moon.
    Kelly said suddenly, “Only one thing for it.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWe’ve got to get him out.”
    I laughed. “Sure. That’s the answer.”
    â€œI mean it. He’ll die sooner than give in. I’m certain of it.”
    â€œSo what do you suggest? Do we go along to the guards’ houses and ask for the key to the stockade, then come back and open up?”
    â€œBlankets,” Kelly said. “We can tie them together in a rope and haul him out.”
    I was tired as well as hungry and looking forward to wrapping myself up in the one blanket I had left. I said, “And if we get him out, what happens? He’ll still be on the island. He’ll have to give himself up eventually. They’ll know who helped him, so all it means is that when he’s put back in the stockade, he finds us waiting for him.”
    â€œHe doesn’t have to be on the island.” I looked at him. “There’s the boat.”
    â€œYou said yourself that was ridiculous.”
    â€œI thought so then. Things have changed. He’ll die in there if we don’t get him away.”
    â€œHe’d die in the boat. We don’t even know if it’s seaworthy. And there’s no means of navigating. Anyway, where do you wind up? If it’s a city, you get brought back here. If it’s the Outlands, you get killed by savages.”
    Kelly said, “Look, all I’m asking is for you to help me with the stockade part. You don’t have to come in the boat.”
    â€œThe whole thing’s mad.” Kelly did not reply; we were almost at the tent. “All right, I’ll help you.”
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    We went in quietly and picked up the other two blankets. Everyone seemed to be asleep; at least, no one asked us what we were doing. The clouds were continuing to clear, and we could see our way back to the stockade reasonably well.
    Kelly told Sunyo what he proposed. Sunyo tried to argue, saying there was no reason why anyone else should get involved, but he was too weak and miserable