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‘Hmm. They were Georgian. Good sailors, although they have no love for Russians. I suspect they were more than willing to allow a switch of ownership.’
‘I wish I knew what the time was…how much longer to go…’
‘Sleep for a while if you can. It will be a very long day tomorrow.’
‘This is going to be Oasis Rock, by the way—on our map.’
‘And Good Buoy then.’ Just saying the words made his voice catch. Ben heard it.
‘They’ll be fine. We’ll get back to them before…’
‘He would have burnt them alive, Ben. They would have…suffered.’
They spooned even closer. Ben had given Aleksey all three cushions. His bony frame did not do lying on rocks well, apparently.
Apparently, he was too thin.
Ben didn’t mention the fifty thing. He really didn’t need to. Aleksey was feeling every single year.
The sun was pinking the sky long before they saw its disc. They took in the very last swallows of fresh water they could stand, strapped on their floats and resumed their swim, straight towards what appeared to be an endless spread of salmon and crimson in the sky.
Three hours in and it was hot again. Aleksey realised, too late now of course, that they should have used their shirts for head coverings.
Ben was still ploughing along. He hadn’t eaten for twenty-four hours. His stomach was their compass, perhaps, taking them home.
Just as this thought crossed his mind—Ben, food, home—something bumped him. He felt pain and shouted. Ben turned, but just as he did a vast, black fin rose between them, and a shadow so big they could see neither beginning nor end hovered beneath the surface. Then a tail flicked and the huge creature swam away.
Aleksey’s heart was beating so fast he thought he would pass out. He put a hand down and felt around. Ben’s eyes were wide with horror.
Aleksey frowned. He could still feel everything where it should be. But his hand came up with an ooze of blood. There was a graze on his shin as if he’d skidded on gravel. The fin rose again and he whirled to face it, Ben coming close, moving in front of him. Was Ben Rider-Mikkelsen going to fight off a great white shark for him? The colossal fish came towards them once more. Aleksey could literally hear the two tuba notes in his head. The creature opened its mouth, a huge maw of bristling gills…but no teeth, and passed them again. It seemed to go on forever in its slow passage. It was possibly thirty feet long and completely dwarfed them both.
With a final flick of its tail, the shark sank heavily and silently away.
They picked up their speed after that for a while, adrenaline giving them a burst of energy they’d not had up until then.
Two things occurred to Aleksey at the same time: not all sharks were great whites, and he would never watch another Ben-recommended movie ever again.
The sun was now directly overhead.
If they had started somewhere around five in the morning, they’d been swimming for twelve hours since the sinking of the Appaloosa. They were probably about a third of the way. And also, probably dozens of miles off to north or south of their destination. He supposed if that were so then they would eventually reach Lands End itself. It was a nice thought for the next hour.
Once more, Ben was the one to spot something in the water. He didn’t sound as if he cared too much. He was struggling badly. Ben Rider wasn’t used to struggling ever, and he clearly didn’t like it. He poked Aleksey’s shoulder and pointed weakly.
It was a huge fishing net cast off from a trawler, floating serenely on the otherwise pristine ocean. It was full of trapped rubbish.
Right off to one side, caught by its fin, was an upside-down surfboard.
It crossed Aleksey’s mind to joke that it was John’s and that the gods of chaos and chance were taking the piss, but he decided Ben wasn’t up to humour.
They untangled it. Ben could barely manage to get on it, but when he did, he just closed his eyes and lay as if dead.
‘Don’t go away.’
Ben didn’t respond, so Aleksey kept one hand on the board as he examined the other detritus. He found a couple of plastic milk cartons with their lids on and stowed them next to Ben’s legs. There was a plank of wood which he similarly took. He wanted a sheet of plastic but the nylon netting was vicious and his water-sodden fingers split as he tried to free it. Eventually, he heard a weak, ‘Cut it off. Tin. There.’
Ben was right. Aleksey extricated the can, eased the razor-sharp lid up, and sliced the plastic free. Ben was watching him with exhaustion in his eyes.
They tried to sit together on the board but their combined weight sank it too low for it to move through the water. Ben tried to paddle with the piece of wood, sitting astride the board, but it wasn’t as effective as if he lay belly down and used his massively powerful shoulders from that position. Aleksey took all the floating objects they now had—three cushions and the milk bottles—and tied the lot together. He half-lay on that, held onto the board at the back and kicked. Ben paddled. They kept the plastic sheet over them as a sunscreen, and set off once more.
