it. I looked them up. They’re massive, but they don’t eat people, just fish and plankton. I like doing my drawings. My best one so far is a flying fish.
I sent a card to Eddie from the Cape
Verde Islands. I wish he could be here. We’d have a real laugh.
Stella loves to chase the football round the cabin, and pounce on it. She’ll puncture it one day, I know she will.
Dad’s been a bit gloomy, and Mum’s gone to lie down. She’s got a headache. I think they’ve had a bit of a tiff. Don’t know what about exactly, but I think it’s about chess.
November 16
We’ve just left Recife. That’s in Brazil. We were there four days. We had a lot of repairs to do on the boat. Something was wrong with the wind generator and the rudder cable’s still sticking.
I’ve played football in Brazil! Did you hear that, Eddie? I’ve played football in Brazil, and with your lucky football. Dad and me were just having a kick about on the beach, and before we knew it we had a dozen kids joining in. It was a proper game. Dad set it up. We picked sides. I called my side Mudlarks and he called his Brazil, so they all wanted to play on his side, of course.
But Mum joined in on my side and we won. Mudlarks 5 – Brazil 3. Mum invited them back for a Coke on board afterwards. Stella growled at them and bared her teeth, so we had to shut her down in the cabin. They tried out their English on us. They only knew two words: ‘Goal’ and ‘Manchester United’. That’s three, I suppose.
Mum had the films developed. There’s one of some leaping dolphins, another of me at the winch. Mum at the wheel, another of Dad hauling down the
mainsail and making a right mess of it. There’s one of me diving off a rock into the sea when we stopped in the Canaries. There’s one of Dad fast asleep and sunbathing on deck and Mum giggling. She’s about to dribble the sun cream all over his tummy. (I took that one, my best photo.) Then there’s one of me doing my maths, sulking and sticking my tongue out.
December 25
Christmas Day at sea. Dad found some carols on the radio. We had crackers, all of them a bit soggy so none of them cracked, and we had the Christmas pudding Gran made for us. I gave them a drawing each – my flying fish for Dad and one of the skipper, in her hat, at the wheel for Mum. They gave me a really neat knife they’d bought in Rio. So I gave a coin back. You’re supposed to do that. It’s for luck.
When we were in Rio we gave the Peggy Sue a good scrub down. She was looking a bit manky inside and outside, but she’s not any more. We took on a lot of stores and water for the long haul
to South Africa. Mum says we’re doing fine, just so long as we keep south, so long as we stay in the west-to-east South Atlantic current.
We passed south of an island called St Helena a few days ago. No need to stop. Nothing much there, except it’s the place where Napoleon was exiled. He died there. Lonely place to die. So, of course, I had to do a history project on Napoleon. I had to look him up in the encyclopaedia and write about him. It was quite interesting, really, but I
didn’t tell them that.
Stella’s sulking on my bunk. Maybe it’s because no one gave her a Christmas present. I offered her a taste of Gran’s Christmas pudding, but she hardly gave it a sniff. Can’t say I blame her.
I saw a sail today, another yacht. We shouted Happy Christmas and waved, and Stella barked her head off, but they were too far away. When the sail disappeared, the sea felt suddenly very empty.
Mum won the chess this evening. She’s ahead now, twenty-one games to twenty. Dad said he let her win because it was Christmas. They joke about it, but they both want to win.
January 1, 1989
Africa again! Cape Town. Table Mountain. And this time we’re not just sailing by – we’re going to put in there. They told me this evening. They didn’t want to tell me before in case we couldn’t afford it, but we can. We’re going to stay for a couple of weeks, maybe more. We’re going to see elephants and lions in the wild. I can’t believe it. I don’t think they can either. When they told me, they were like
a couple of kids, all laughing and happy. They were never like this at home. These days they really smile at each other.
Mum’s getting stomach cramps. Dad wants her to see a doctor in Cape Town, but she won’t. I reckon it’s the baked beans. The good news is the baked beans have at last run out. The bad news is we had sardines for supper. Eeeyuk!
February 7
We’re hundreds of miles out in the Indian Ocean, and then this happens. Stella hardly ever comes up on deck unless it’s flat calm. I don’t know why she came up. I don’t know why she was there. We were all busy, I suppose. Dad was brewing up down in the galley, and Mum was at the wheel. I was doing one of my navigation lessons, taking bearings with the sextant. The Peggy Sue was pitching and rolling a bit. I had to steady myself. I looked up and I saw Stella up at the bow of the boat. One moment she was just standing there, the next she was gone.
We had practised the ‘man overboard’ drill dozens of times back in the Solent with Barnacle
Bill. Shout and point. Keep shouting. Keep pointing. Turn into the wind. Get the sails down quick. Engine on. By the time Dad had the mainsail and the jib down, we were already heading back towards her. I was doing the pointing, and the shouting too. She was paddling for her life in the green of a looming wave. Dad was leaning over the side and reaching for her, but he didn’t have his safety harness on and Mum was going mad. She was trying to bring the boat in as close and as slow
as she could, but a wave took Stella away from us at the last moment. We had to turn and come back again. All the time I was pointing and shouting.
Three times we came in but each time we passed her by. Either we were going too fast or she was out of reach. She was weak by now. She was hardly paddling. She was going under. We had one last chance. We came in again, perfectly this time and close enough for Dad to be able to reach out and grab her. Between the three of us we managed to haul Stella back into the boat by her collar, by her tail. I got a, ‘Well done, monkey face,’ from Dad, and Dad got a huge rollicking from Mum for not wearing his safety harness. Dad just put his arms round her and she cried. Stella shook herself and went below as if nothing at all had happened.
Mum has made a strict rule. Stella Artois is never to go out on deck – whatever the weather – without a safety harness clipped on, like the rest of us. Dad’s going to make one for her.
I still dream of the elephants in South Africa. I loved how slow they are, and thoughtful.
I loved their wise weepy eyes. I can still see those snooty giraffes looking down at me and the lion cub sleeping with his mother’s tail in his mouth. I did lots of drawings and I keep looking at them to remind me. The sun in Africa is so big, so red.
Australia