Free Wild Jack by John Christopher Page B

stern.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    The rest of the day was very bad. Before we saw the airship, we had begun to be resigned to the prospect of dying. Hope had sharpened our will to live, and its loss tormented us. Our ears were continually pricked for the sound of an engine; our eyes futilely searched the gray above for a sight of movement. But it was pointless, and we knew it. If an airship passing so closely overhead had not seen us, what chance was there of any other doing so? Yet we wenton watching compulsively, torturing ourselves with impossible hopes.
    In a way it was a relief when dusk put an end to it. I looked out as the horizon drew in and wondered what our chances were of surviving the night. The wind seemed to be increasing again. We had summoned up reserves of strength in shouting and waving to the airship, but I doubted if any remained. I could not see us bailing out with our hands in another squall. Drowning, anyway, would be better than lingering on.
    Kelly and Sunyo had changed places, and Sunyo was now lying in the water at the bottom of the boat. He was sleeping, and I thought that Kelly, slumped in the bow, was asleep also. But he said something in a low voice which I did not catch.
    After a moment he spoke again, more clearly. “Over there. . . .”
    I felt I ought to say something but was almost too tired to utter. I mumbled, “What?”
    â€œCould it be land?”
    He was talking in his sleep, I thought, or maybe delirious. There was nothing but sea.
    He said, “Dead ahead. Behind you, that is. Could it be?”
    I turned, awkwardly. More sea stretched interminably away until it merged into the deepening murk of sky. I felt a small flash of anger at him, but was too weak to feel anything strongly.
    I was turning back in silence when Kelly said in a louder voice, “I think it is land!”
    Was that a darker line between the two grays? I thought I saw it, lost it, saw it again. It was tantalizingly uncertain. Sunyo had better vision than either Kelly or I, and I leaned forward and put out a hand to wake him, but Kelly stopped me.
    â€œDon’t. No point in raising false hopes. Even if it is land, what can we do about it? It must be a ­couple of miles away, and I doubt if any of us has the strength to swim a couple of yards.”
    I saw the point, and we sat and watched in silence. It was certainly land, a coast that stretched away into darkness, and after a time there could be no doubt that the tide was taking us in. But slowly, slowly, and I was all too conscious that tides could change. In that case we would drift back into the night that wasrapidly closing down, a night that must be final.
    Declining visibility and the narrowing distance contended with one another. The coast ahead was only a blur, but the blur grew nearer. We wakened Sunyo at last, and for a moment he, too, stared unbelievingly. He started trying to paddle with an arm over the side of the boat, and Kelly and I did the same. We were so feeble that our hands could do little more than brush the surface, but we had the illusion of doing something.
    Under an almost black sky we drifted in toward a black shore. I heard a grating sound, and felt the weird sensation of something solid underneath us. We had reached land.

6
    I SCRAMBLED OVER THE SIDE into the water. Stones rolled under my feet. I was submerged to the waist and a wave surged up into my face, making me gasp and almost making me lose my hold on the boat. I saw Sunyo try to rise and fall back.
    I asked Kelly, “Do you think he can get out? Or can you heave him over to me?”
    Sunyo said weakly, “I’m all right.”
    He needed help all the same. Between us we got him into the water, and I supported him as we staggered up toward the beach. The sea grew shallower, and suddenly I was on dry land. That was when,without the buoyancy of the water, weakness really hit me. I staggered another step or two and collapsed. Sunyo