Dolphin Island

He was still asleep when the voyage ended. The explosion shook him awake instantly, and a few seconds later he felt the impact as the Santa Anna crashed into the sea. Then the lights went out, and he was left in total darkness.

Chapter 3

It was the first time in his life that Johnny had ever felt utter, unreasoning panic. His limbs had turned to jelly; he could hardly breathe for the weight that was pressing on his chest. It seemed that he was already drowning—as indeed he might soon be unless he could escape from this trap.

He had to find the way out, but he was surrounded by crates and packing cases, and soon lost all sense of direction as he blundered among them. It was like one of those nightmares when you tried to run and couldn’t; but this was no dream—it was all too real.

The pain and shock of crashing against some unseen obstacle jarred him out of his panic. It was no good losing his head and stumbling around in the dark. The thing to do was to keep moving in the same direction until he found the wall. Then he could work along it until he came to the door.

The plan was excellent, but there were so many obstructions that it seemed an age before he felt smooth metal in front of him and knew that he had reached the wall of the compartment. After that, the rest was easy, and he almost cried with relief when he found the door and jerked it open. For the corridor outside was not, as he had feared, also in darkness. The main lights had failed, but a dim blue emergency system was operating, and he could see without difficulty.

It was then that he noticed the smell of smoke, and realized that the Santa Anna was on fire. He also noticed that the corridor was no longer level—the ship was badly down at the stern, where the engines were. Johnny guessed that the explosion had breached the hull, and that the sea was coming in.

Perhaps the ship was in no danger, but he could not be sure. He did not like the way she was listing, still less the ominous creaking of the hull. The helpless ship was rolling and pitching in a most unpleasant manner, and Johnny felt a sensation in the pit of his stomach that he guessed must be the first sign of seasickness. He tried to ignore it and to concentrate on the more important matter of staying alive.

If the ship was sinking, he had better find his way to the lifeboat as quickly as possible; that would be where everyone else would be heading. The crew would be surprised to find another passenger, and he hoped there would be enough room for him.

But where was the lifeboat section? He had been there only once, and though he was sure he could find his way if he had plenty of time, this was just what he lacked. Because he was in such a hurry, he took several wrong turnings and had to retrace his footsteps. Once he found his way blocked by a massive steel bulkhead which, he was certain, had not been there before. Smoke curled around its edges and Johnny could hear, quite distinctly, a steady crackling sound from the far side. He turned and ran as fast as he could, back along the dimly lit passageway.

He was exhausted and desperately frightened when he finally got back on the correct track. Yes, this was the right corridor—there would be a short flight of stairs at the end, and that would lead to the lifeboat section. He started to run, now that he was near his goal and had no need to conserve his gtrength.

His memory had not played him false. The stairs were there, just as he had expected. But the boat was gone.

The hull was wide open, and the davits were slung outward with their empty pulley blocks waving as if to tantalize him. Through the huge gap that had been opened to pass the lifeboat, fierce gusts of wind were blowing, bringing flurries of spray. The taste of salt was already bitter in Johnny’s mouth; soon he would know it only too well.

Sick at heart, he walked to the opening and looked out over the sea. It was night, but the Moon that had seen the beginning of his adventure still shone upon its ending. Only yards below, an angry sea was smashing against the side of the ship, and ever and again a wave came climbing up the hull and went swirling around his feet. Even if the Santa Anna was not shipping water elsewhere, she would soon be doing so here.

Somewhere, not far away, there was a muffled explosion, and the emergency lights flickered and died. They had served him just long enough, for he could never have found his way here in the darkness. But did it matter anyway? He was alone, in a sinking ship, hundreds of miles from land.