Free Rescue On Nim's Island by Orr Wendy Page A

untie it!’ everyone shouted at once.
    ‘I have to,’ said Tiffany. Something in her voice stopped them from arguing.
    But the knot around her waist had pulled tight. She tugged at the knot; her hand slipped and whacked hard against the rock. Ollie whimpered as if he was the one who’d been hurt, but Tiffany hardly seemed to notice. ‘I can’t untie it!’ she grunted.
    Nim felt as if she was going to burst. She wanted to climb down the shaft and do something, but all she could do was to angle her headlamp for the best light, holding her head still while her mind whirled. If I could just lower her my pocketknife … But the cord’s too short; it’ll fall down past her like Tristan’s torch.
    She pushed back from the edge and slipped the three cords off her neck. They’d never been untied, not since Jack gave her each one when she was a little girl – the shell whistle, then the spyglass, and finally, when she was old enough to be careful and strong enough to use it, the fat red pocketknife. The knots were like rock now; she opened the knife, sliced through each knot and pulled out the cords. She tied the ends of the first two together in a reef knot, hearing Jack’s voice in her ears: right over left and under, left over right and under – and then tied the third cord onto the end the same way. Finally she closed the knife, slipped the cord through its ring and tied that too.
    It seemed to take a long time, but when she finished, Tiffany was still struggling and the sheet was still knotted.
    ‘I’m dropping you a knife!’ Nim called. She leaned deep into the funnel the way Tristan had before. Tristan and Edmund grabbed her ankles.
    The pocketknife swung on the long cord, clattering against the walls, and stopped, swaying above Tiffany’s head. With Ollie clinging tight to her neck, Tiffany jammed her legs harder against the sides and reached.
    She could nearly touch it – it was so close she could feel the air moving above her fingers as it swung – she tried again. And again and again, over and over …
    ‘I can’t! I just can’t.’
    ‘I can!’ Ollie squealed.
    He clutched a handful of his sister’s hair and pulled himself up to stand on her shoulders. Tiffany grabbed his feet, and the little boy stretched for the swinging knife.
    ‘Got it!’ he shouted triumphantly.
    ‘Sit down on my shoulders while I use it,’ said Tiffany. ‘I don’t want to cut your legs by mistake.’
    Ollie handed her the knife and sat down obediently. Tiffany shoved the knife into the tight knot of the sheet.
    Edmund and Nim aimed their lights onto it.
    ‘Cut towards the wall!’ Nim called. Tiffany didn’t look like someone who’d used a pocketknife much before.
    ‘I’m stuck, not stupid!’ Tiffany grunted. She pushed hard; there was a ripping sound – but the sheet stayed stuck in its knot.
    ‘Are you cutting the sheet, Tiff?’ asked Ollie.
    ‘I’m trying!’
    ‘That’s naughty,’ said Ollie. He sounded confused.
    ‘Mum won’t mind,’ Tiffany panted, as she dug the knife into the knot one more time. There was another ripping sound. The knot loosened.
    Tiffany dropped the knife into her pocket and tugged the sheet open.
    ‘Pull Ollie up now!’ she called. She tossed her end of the sheet up the shaft. They all leaned down to grab it, with Tristan down the hole as low as he could go and Nim and Edmund holding his ankles till their arms ached and their hands were so slippery with sweat they were afraid he’d slide right out.
    The sheet fluttered up and billowed down, like a baby bird learning to fly. It was too soft and loose to throw straight up.
    Nim looked at Fred. Fred looked back at Nim. Fred was greedy, but he was brave too, and sometimes he knew what Nim was thinking. She lifted him off her shoulder and held him close to her heart to warm him.
    ‘Are you sure?’ she asked him.
    She opened her hands, and Fred scuttled down her legs to the mouth of the shaft.
    Nim’s breath was stuck in her