Red Fever (12 page)

Something was wrong. In the fuggy state between slumber and waking Toby could sense something wasn’t right with his world. He tried to open his eyes but sleep had a strong grip on him and he couldn’t shake it loose.

Wake up! I must wake up!
he told himself.

With a huge effort Toby squinted out of one eye, rubbing the other with a grimy hand. Blackness was all around him and for a moment he couldn’t work out where he was. He groped to feel for the torch that was tucked in beside him and, grasping the handle, quickly wound it up. It threw a pale flickering light on the inside of the tiny cabin.

Ah, I’m in my den
, thought Toby.

For a moment he felt reassured. This was his safe
place where he came to hide from the madness outside that was now his life. But as he lay curled up on the old mattress that took up most of the space, Toby felt a growing unease. There was something
so
strange about the way the boat was pitching and rolling sideways. Toby had hated sailing but since the red fever had changed everything in the past three years, he had had to learn the ways of the sea. He had had no choice; it was that or not survive.

A terrible sense of dread crept over him and, fighting his terror, he pulled on his damp clothes, keeping an ear open for any noise. There was no sound of the
Lucky Lady’s
engine, there was no sound of his dad or his little sister Sylvie. There was no sound of anything except the
whack, whack, whack
of the waves hitting the side of the boat as it was tossed and thrown about.

What’s going on? Why aren’t we moving? The boat feels like it’s drifting. What’s Dad doing?

Toby felt sick as he crawled to the hatch door and flipped it open, shading his eyes to the brightness of the morning light. Something felt wrong, terribly wrong. As he swung round to face the
Lucky Lady’s
cabin Toby saw exactly what it was. There standing on the deck were two huge men dressed in black, their backs towards him. Toby froze, the cold hand of fear closing over his heart.

“Hey! You two! Come in here and help me tie the
prisoners up!” shouted a gruff voice from the cabin.

“Yep Captain!” one of the men shouted back. The two men stooped and disappeared through the low wooden door of the boat’s cabin.

Prisoners?
thought Toby.
Whoever is in the cabin must be talking about Dad and Sylvie. We must have been boarded by pirates!

Toby now saw the grey outline of a large inflatable boat moored alongside the
Lucky Lady
. He pulled himself up onto the deck and, grasping the rail, made his way unsteadily towards the cabin as the boat bucked and shifted under his feet.

What are they doing with Dad and Sylvie? What do they want with them? Surely they just want to steal our food and fuel? These can’t be ordinary pirates.

Toby felt a hot anger rising in his chest as he thought of the dirty rough men pulling his little sister Sylvie around. She was only six years old and though she could be very annoying at times, Toby was always fiercely protective of her. After all, she had no mum to look after her now.

What am I going to do? There are at least three of them and they are enormous and probably have weapons! How am I going to fight them off?

Toby slunk down and crawled nearer to the cabin door. He could hear raised voices from within.

“Take your filthy hands off us!” an angry voice rang out. It was his dad. “Why are you doing this? What do you want with us? Just take our food and fuel!”

Toby heard a loud coarse laugh and then someone said, “We don’t want your meagre offerings! It’s
you
we want!”

There was a scream from Sylvie as sounds of a scuffle came from the open door. Toby’s blood started to boil. How dare these evil men board their boat and assault his family. He had to do something and he had to do it now.

He glanced round, searching for something he could use to defend himself and spied a large wooden pole with a hook on the end that they used to pull the boat to moorings. Toby picked it up and without thinking flung himself through the cabin door.

What he saw inside made him cry out in fear and dismay; his dad and Sylvie were cowering in terror on one of the bunk beds, their hands tied in front of them. Standing over them were four men, filling the tiny cabin with their bulky frames, all of them wielding guns. The men turned and stared in shock at the young boy waving a pole at them. Toby didn’t hesitate.

“Take that!” he screamed as he lunged at the one nearest him, striking out with the hook and cracking the man violently across the top of his skull. The man crumpled slowly to the floor with a quiet moan, but
before Toby could raise his pole for another attack on the next man, someone cannoned into him and smacked him heavily to the hard floor of the cabin.

The last thing that Toby was aware of was the concerned voice of his dad ringing in his ears: “Toby? Toby? What have you done to him?”

It was some time later when Toby started to come to. His head throbbed, and through the misty fog of pain he was aware of someone standing over him.

The man called out, “Is there any point in taking this one? He looks at death’s door. Must have hit his head hard. Does the General want damaged goods?”

“Aye! Chuck him into the inflatable along with the others. If he looks a goner we’ll throw him overboard,” called back another.

Toby felt someone lift him clumsily, carry him out of the cabin into the cold air and then throw him into empty space. He gasped as he felt himself fly through the air and then hit the wooden planking at the bottom of the inflatable. As he lay, unable to open his eyes, he heard his dad murmuring to Sylvie nearby. He could smell the metallic tang of blood somewhere nearby, and tried to put his hands to his head, which felt wet and sticky, but his hands were tied together. Someone’s boot nudged him sharply in the ribs.

“Leave my brother alone!” he heard Sylvie squeal.

“Tell your kid to shut up or else she’ll end up like her big brother,” a voice commanded.

“Don’t you touch a hair on her head!” shouted back his dad. This was followed by bursts of laughter from the four men.

“Like you can do anything about it, eh?” said the same man. Toby could hear a tone of authority in his voice and wondered if he was the Captain the men referred to. “Now you tell your kids to behave,” the man continued, “and we’ll all get along just fine. It’s not in our interest to knock you about – we want you to arrive in one piece otherwise you’ll not be much use to us.”

“Aye,” cried out another voice, “otherwise it’ll be us that’ll get it in the neck from the General!”

“Shut up Calvert! Else I’ll have to shut you up too!” barked the Captain.

Toby lapsed in and out of the darkness of unconsciousness as the inflatable’s outboard motor roared into life and the boat took off, bouncing over the waves. He could feel his dad’s hand grasping roughly onto his, and as he peered painfully into the light he saw his dad and Sylvie crouching in the bottom of the boat next to him.

Where are they taking us?
Toby thought, gritting his teeth as the boat hurtled along, banging violently against the
waves and sending spasms of pain ripping through his body.

“You’ll like it at Fort George,” shouted the Captain, as if reading Toby’s thoughts. “We’ve collected quite a number of folks just like you – loners struggling to survive in this mad world. You’ll thank us for rescuing you from your pitiful life. At least you’ll have company!”

“What do you want with us?” his dad shouted back over the drone of the engine.

The men laughed again, and one replied, “That’ll be a surprise for you to look forward to!”