Free Becoming Billy Dare by Kirsty Murray Page B

Everyone wore oilskins and sou'-westers on deck, but nothing could stop the piercing cold. On the roughest days, Dai sent Paddy below to help Cook. It was a relief to be in the warm and steamy galley.
    One morning, Paddy came on deck to find a sheer wall of ice rising up in front of the ship. Paddy gripped the rails with a mixture of terror and awe. The iceberg was so close, he could almost reach out and touch it. Only the rebound of a heavy swell against the steep side of the berg kept them from impact. The Lapwing surged alongside the glassy walls and Paddy held his breath. Water cascaded down the side of the iceberg, into the bluish-green depths beneath. At night, as he lay in his hammock, he could hear the sound of the ice-cracking echoing across the water.
    Finally, they headed into the Indian Ocean, and the whole crew seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Even though it had only taken a week to sail around the Cape of Good Hope, Paddy felt as if he'd been cold forever.
    â€˜I think the next job we sign on for should be on a steamer,' he said to Dai as they sat on the forecastle on a warm bright Sunday afternoon, whittling away at the love spoons. ‘We could sail through the Suez Canal and see Africa.’
    â€˜A steamer, with black soot settling on you and the smell of coal all the long day? Not for me. There's nothing sweeter than the smell of land when you've been weeks at sea, nor nothing as clean as ocean air. You'll miss all that if you hitch yourself to a steamer.’
    â€˜But don't you get scared sometimes when the clipper gets tossed about?’
    â€˜I was born with the caul over my head - don't you know that means I can never drown?’
    â€˜Well, I could drown,’ said Paddy. ‘I don't even know how to swim. If I got washed overboard, that would be the end of me, even in calm water.’
    â€˜We'll have to remedy that,’ said Dai, shaking his head. ‘It would be just your luck to go tumbling, and mine to have to dive in and save you. Come here, boy.’ He yanked at Paddy's shirt. ‘Now get your boots off, and your trousers.’
    â€˜Can't we do this some other time?’ said Paddy, squirming. ‘Plenty of the other men can't swim. Why pick on me?’
    â€˜You can't teach an old dog new tricks, but a whelp like yourself, that's another matter. Get your clothes off. Orders, boy,’ said Dai.
    Sighing, Paddy did as he was told.
    â€˜Now see if you can keep your mouth shut or you'll be drowning before I can save you,’ said Dai, gathering up a coil of rope.
    Dai tied the rope firmly around Paddy's waist, then picked him up and threw him over the side. Paddy shouted as he hit the cold green water and sank deep. Opening his eyes, he saw the coil of rope black against the brightness above him. Then the rope pulled taut and scratchy against his bare chest and he was yanked spluttering to the surface.
    Dai shouted down, ‘Now, you have to get those legs kicking, boy. Roll onto your back and see if you can float. There's so little fat on you, I don't know if you can, but you must learn.’
    Half the crew hung over the side of the clipper to watch him. Realising he had an audience, Paddy started clowning around, flapping his arms up and down like a drowning seabird.
    â€˜Stop your larking about, you show-off,’ roared Dai. ‘Now get your arms working!’
    Dai made the rope go slack and Paddy felt himself sink again. He gasped and swallowed a mouthful of brine. Panicking, he flailed his arms and kicked his legs, bringing his head above the surface.
    â€˜Now you lie still again for a moment, lad,’ called Dai. ‘Get on your back, spread your arms and your legs wide and feel the power of the water. That's the trick to swimming in the sea. To know she's wiser than you and to go with her, not always fight against her.’ Paddy turned onto his back and felt the gentle swell of the waves beneath him.
    When Paddy had thrashed his way