Free Seas of South Africa by Philip Roy Page A

engine.”
    â€œYou don’t have to, you know. You can convert it.”
    â€œConvert it? Convert what?”
    â€œYour engine. You don’t have to burn fossil fuels anymore. You can burn vegetable fat.”
    â€œVegetable fat? Are you serious?”
    â€œAbsolutely. My engine burns vegetable fat. It’s a lot better for the environment. Why would you burn diesel when you can burn vegetable fat? It’s cleaner, and it’s renewable. We have to stop burning fossil fuels. We’re killing the planet. And we haven’t got much time left.” He bent over and gasped for air. “Will you tow my plane to the shore?”
    I shook my head. “Sorry. I can’t.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause it sank.”
    â€œNo, it didn’t . . .” He turned around. “Oh, no! Noooooooo!”
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œI . . . I have to get it back!” He jumped back into the water and splashed around. He ducked his head under and looked down, but didn’t take a breath first. When his head came up, he was choking and spitting up water. I was starting to wonder if this was his very first time on the sea. He acted as if he didn’t even know what it was.
    I pulled on the rope again until he grabbed hold of the side of the sub. He looked so disappointed now you would have thought that somebody had just died. I didn’t think I had ever seen anyone look so disappointed before. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.
    â€œI might be able to find it for you, if the salt water hasn’t ruined it.”
    He looked up. “Really? How could you do that?”
    â€œWell, it’s only ninety feet deep. I could swim down with a rope and hook, and we could pull it up. It’s possible. But I think the salt water probably ruined your engine.”
    â€œNo. I can clean it. I built it from scratch. I can take it apart and clean it.” He turned and stared at the water as if he expected his plane to come back up all by itself. Then he shifted his weight, lost his balance, and fell into the water again. Oh boy. When I helped him out, he was spitting up water. I think he was completely exhausted now. Maybe he was hungry, too.
    â€œAre you hungry?”
    He raised his head and looked at me as if food was something he hadn’t thought of for a very long time. He suddenly looked very tired, sad, and lonely. “Yah. I’m starving.”
    â€œI’m making pancakes. Would you like some?”
    â€œI’m not sure what they are, but I’ll eat them.”
    I reached down and offered him my hand. “I’m Alfred.”
    He reached up. His hand was shaking. His lips were turning blue. He was shivering. “I’m Los.”
    â€œAre you okay?”
    He nodded, but he wasn’t okay. He was shaking. I think maybe he really was starving.
    â€œCome on in. I’ll give you something to eat.”
    He followed me. Just before he dropped his head inside the portal, he stopped and stared at the shore. He had a curious and dreamy look on his face. “We’re on the sea, aren’t we?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWow.” He climbed down the ladder. “And this is really a submarine, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes, it is.”
    Inside the sub, Los looked like a kid who had just come into a toy store for the very first time. Even though he was exhausted, and starving, he examined everything with intense curiosity. He couldn’t help it. I could tell that he was someone whose energy came from his mind, not his body. In a funny way, he reminded me of Albert Einstein.
    â€œThis is amazing. You’ve got to show me how everything works.” When he stood up, his head was almost touching the ceiling. He was about two inches taller than me, and maybe a little slimmer.
    â€œSure. I will, right after we eat . . . Oh!” My pancake wasn’t on my plate anymore. I looked on the floor. It wasn’t there,either, but