https://www.spellingcity.com/missingLetter-spelling-game.html?listId=46700349
Kk 4
Gibbons and ghosts
The terrors came fast, one upon another. The lights of the Peggy Sue went away into the dark of the night, leaving me alone in the ocean, alone with the certainty that they were already too far away, that my cries for help could not possibly be heard. I thought then of the sharks cruising the black water beneath me – scenting me, already searching me out, homing in on me – and I knew there could be no hope. I would be eaten alive. Either that or I would drown slowly. Nothing could save me.
I trod water, frantically searching the impenetrable darkness about me for something, anything to swim towards. There was nothing.
Then a sudden glimpse of white in the sea. The breaking of a wave perhaps. But there were no waves. Stella! It had to be. I was so thankful, so relieved not to be all alone. I called out and swam towards her. She would keep bobbing away from me, vanishing, reappearing, then vanishing again. She had seemed so near, but it took several minutes of hard swimming before I came close enough to reach out and touch her. Only then did I realise my mistake. Stella’s head was mostly black. This was white. It was my football.
I tried singing to stop myself from shivering, to take my mind off the sharks. I sang every song I could remember, but after a while I’d forget the words. Always I came back to the only song I was sure I could finish: ‘Ten Green Bottles’. I sang it out loud again and again.
I floated away into sleep, into my dreams. And in my dream I saw a boat gliding towards me, silent over the sea. The Peggy Sue! Dear, dear Peggy Sue. They had come back for me. I knew they would. Strong arms grabbed me. I was hauled upwards and out of the water. I lay there on the deck, gasping for air like a landed fish.
Someone was bending over me, shaking me, talking to me. I could not understand a word that was being said. But it didn’t matter. I felt Stella’s hot breath on my face, her tongue licking my ear. She was safe. I was safe. All was well.
I sat up. I was on a beach, a broad white sweep of sand, with trees growing thick and lush behind me right down to the beach. Then I saw Stella prancing about in the shallows. I called her and she came bounding up out of the sea to greet me, her tail circling wildly. When all the leaping and licking and hugging were done, I struggled to my feet.
I was weak all over. I looked all about me. The wide blue sea was as empty as the cloudless sky above. No Peggy Sue. No boat. Nothing. No one. I called again and again for my mother and my father. I called until the tears came and I could call no more, until I knew there was no point.Stella, of course, was unconcerned about all the whys and wherefores.
Then came the howling again from the trees, and the hackles went up on Stella’s neck. She charged up the beach barking and barking, until she was sure she had silenced the last of the echoes. It was a musical, plaintive howling this time, not at all menacing. I thought I recognised it. I had heard howling like it once before on a visit to London Zoo. Gibbons, ‘funky gibbons’, my father had called them.
From where I now stood I could see that the forest grew more sparsely up the side of a great hill some way inland, and it occurred to me then that if I could reach the bare rocky outcrop at the summit, I would be able to see further out to sea. Or perhaps there’d be some house or farm further inland, or maybe a road, and I could find someone to help. But if I left the beach and they came back looking for me, what then? I decided I would have to take that chance.
It wasn’t the sounds of the forest that bothered me, though, it was the eyes. I felt as if I was being watched by a thousand inquisitive eyes.We emerged exhausted from the trees, clambered laboriously up a rocky scree and stood at long last on the peak.
Sea. Sea. Sea. Nothing but sea on all sides. I was on an island. I was alone. So far as I could see there was no sign of any human life. Even then, as I stood there, that first morning, filled with apprehension at the terrifying implications of my dreadful situation, I remember thinking how wonderful it was, a green jewel of an island framed in white, the sea all about it a silken shimmering blue. Strangely, perhaps comforted somehow by the extraordinary beauty of the place, I was not at all down-hearted. On the contrary – I felt strangely elated. I was alive. Stella Artois was alive. We had survived.
“We’ll be all right,” I told Stella. “Mum and Dad, they’ll come back for us. They’re bound to. They will. They will. Mum’ll get better and they’ll come back. She won’t leave us here. She’ll find us, you’ll see. All we’ve got to do is keep a look out for them – and stay alive. Water, we’ll need water. But so do those monkeys, right? We’ve just got to find it, that’s all. And there must be food too – fruit or nuts, something. Whatever it is that they eat, we’ll eat.” I soon discovered that the track down through the trees was bereft of all edible vegetation. I did see fruit of sorts, what looked to me like fruit, anyway. There were coconuts up there too, but the trees were all impossible to climb. All the same, I was becoming desperately parched now, and so was Stella. She padded alongside me all the way, her tongue hanging.
Stella’s eyes looked up into mine. “There’s got to be water,” I told her. “There’s got to be.” So, said her eyes, what are you doing sitting here feeling sorry for yourself?
I forced myself to my feet and went on. The seawater in the rockpools was so cool, so tempting. I tasted it, but it was salty and brackish. You went mad if you drank it. I knew that much.Despite all my searching, I had found no water, nothing to eat. I could go no further, and neither could Stella.
I remembered then that it was my birthday, and thought of my last birthday back at home with Eddie and Matt, and the barbecue we’d had in the garden, how the sausages had smelled so good. I slept at last.
The next morning I woke cold and hungry and shivering, and bitten all over. I cried aloud in my misery, until I saw that Stella was gone. I ran out of the cave. She was nowhere to be seen. I called for her. Then I turned and saw her. She was up on the rocks high above my cave, half hidden from me, but even so I could see that her head was down. She was clearly intenting on something.I heard her drinking before I got there, lapping rhythmically, noisily, as she always did. She did not even look up as I approached. That was when I saw that she was drinking from a bowl, a battered tin bowl.
I left Stella to her water feast and climbed up further to investigate. Another bowl of water and, beside it, palm leaves laid out on the rock and half covered by an upturned tin. I sat down and drank the water without pause for breath. Water had never tasted so wonderful to me as it did then. Still gasping, I lifted aside the tin. Fish! Thin strips of translucent white fish, dozens of them, laid out neatly in rows on the palm leaves, and five, six, seven small red bananas. Red bananas!
I ate the fish first, savouring each precious strip. But even as I ate I was looking around me, looking for a telltale trembling of leaves at the edge of the forest, or for a trail of footprints in the sand. I could see none. Yet someone had brought this to me. Someone must be there, someone must be watching me. I wasn’t sure whether to be fearful at this revelation or overjoyed.Once I had finished I stood up and scanned the forest. My benefactor, whoever he or she was, had to be somewhere close by. I was sure I had nothing to fear. I had to make some kind of contact. I put my hands to my mouth and called out again and again: “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” My words echoed round the island.They would have to come back for the bowls, I thought. I would leave a message. I found a sharp stone, knelt down and scraped out my message on the rock beside the bowls: “Thank you. My name is Michael. I fell off a boat. Who are you?”
Kk 3
http://www.e-reading.club/bookreader.php/1010525/Morpurgo_-_Kensukes_Kingdom.html
3
Ship’s Log
September 20
It’s five in the morning. I’m on watch in the cockpit and no one else is awake. We left Southampton ten days ago now. The Channel was full of tankers. There were dozens of them going up and down.We were planning on sailing about 200 miles a day, that’s about eight knots. But in the first week we were lucky if we made fifty miles a day.
Barnacle Bill warned us about the Bay of Biscay, so we were expecting it to be bad, and it was. Force 9 gale. Force 10 sometimes. We were slammed about all over the place. I thought we’d sink. I really did. Once, when we came up on to the top of a wave, I saw the bow of the Peggy Sue pointing straight up at the moon. It was like she was going to take off.
October 11
Today I saw Africa! It was in the distance but Mum said it was definitely Africa. We’re going down the west coast. Mum showed me on the chart.
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.
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.
We took on a lot of stores and water for the long haul to South Africa.
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.
July 28
I look around me. It’s a dark, dark night. No moon. No stars. But it’s calm again, at last. I’ll be twelve tomorrow, but I don’t think anyone except me will remember it.
We’ve had a terrible time, far worse even than in the Bay of Biscay. Ever since we left Sydney, it’s been just storm after storm, and each one blows us further north across the Coral Sea. The rudder cable has snapped. Dad’s done what he can, but it’s still not right. The self-steering doesn’t work any more, so someone’s got to be at the wheel all the time. And that means Dad or me, because Mum is sick. It’s her stomach cramps again, but they’re a lot worse. She doesn’t want to eat at all. All she has is sugared water. She hasn’t been able to look at the charts for three days. Dad wants to put out a May Day call, but Mum won’t let him. She says that’s giving in, and she’s never giving in. Dad and I have been doing the navigation together. We’ve been doing our best, but I don’t think we know where we are any more.
They’re both asleep down below. Dad’s really wiped out. I’m at the wheel in the cockpit. I’ve got Eddie’s football with me. It’s been lucky for us so far. And now we really need it. We need Mum to get better, or we’re in real trouble. I don’t know if we could stand another storm.
Thank God it’s calm. It’ll help Mum to sleep. You can’t sleep when you’re being slammed about all the time.
It is so dark out there. Black. Stella’s barking. She’s up by the bow. She hasn’t got her harness clipped on.
♦
Those were the last words I ever wrote in my log. After that it’s just empty pages.
I tried calling Stella first, but she wouldn’t come. So I left the wheel and went forward to bring her back. I took the ball with me to sweeten her in, to tempt her away from the bow of the boat.
I crouched down. “Come on, Stella,” I said, rolling the ball from hand to hand. “Come and get the ball.” I felt the boat turn a little in the wind, and I knew then I shouldn’t have left the wheel. The ball rolled away from me quite suddenly. I lunged after it, but it was gone over the side before I could grab it. I lay there on the deck watching it bob away into the darkness. I was furious with myself for being so silly.
I was still cursing myself when I thought I heard the sound of singing. Someone was singing out there in the darkness. I called out but no one replied. So that was what Stella had been barking at.
I looked again for my ball, but by now it had disappeared. That ball had been very precious to me, precious to all of us. I knew then I had just lost a great deal more than a football.
I was angry with Stella. The whole thing had been her fault. She was still barking. I couldn’t hear the singing any more. I called her again, whistled her in. She wouldn’t come. I got to my feet and went forward. I took her by the collar and pulled. She would not be moved. I couldn’t drag her all the way back, so I bent down to pick her up. She was still reluctant. Then I had her in my arms, but she was struggling.
I heard the wind above me in the sails. I remember thinking: this is silly, you haven’t got your safety harness on, you haven’t got your lifejacket on, you shouldn’t be doing this. Then the boat veered violently and I was thrown sideways. With my arms full I had no time to grab the guard rail. We were in the cold of the sea before I could even open my mouth to scream.
Kk2 questions
1. Name three types of sea creatures that the boy sees from the
yacht.
2. What do the family do when the storm dies down and the sun comes out?
3. Why is Stella Artois the family’s greatest comfort at sea?
4. Name five of the daily jobs that the boy helps to do on board the yacht.
5. What kinds of things do you think you would record in your own log book if you were at sea for many months?
2. What do the family do when the storm dies down and the sun comes out?
3. Why is Stella Artois the family’s greatest comfort at sea?
4. Name five of the daily jobs that the boy helps to do on board the yacht.
5. What kinds of things do you think you would record in your own log book if you were at sea for many months?
Kk 2
Water, water everywhere
They say that water covers two thirds of the earth’s surface. It certainly looks like that when you’re out there, and it feels like it too. Sea water, rain water – all of it is wet. I spent most of the time soaked to the skin. I wore all the right gear – the skipper always made sure of that – but somehow the wet still got through.
Down below too, everything was damp, even the sleeping-bags. Only when the sun shone and the sea had stopped its heaving, could we begin to dry out. We would haul everything out on deck, and soon the Peggy Sue would be dressed overall, one great washing-line from bow to stern. To be dry again was a real luxury, but we always knew it could not last for long.You may think there was not a lot for three people to do on board, day after day, week after week. You’d be quite wrong. In daylight there was never a dull moment. I was always kept busy: taking in sail, winching in, letting out, taking my turn at the wheel – which I loved – or helping my father with his endless mending and fixing
Only one of the crew was allowed to be idle – Stella Artois – and she was always idle. With nothing much to bark at out on the open ocean, she spent the rougher days curled up on my bed down in the cabin. You could be sure that if there was anything out there she’d spot it soon enough – an escort of porpoises perhaps, diving in and out of the waves, a family of dolphins swimming alongside, so close you could reach out and touch them. Whales, sharks, even turtles – we saw them all.Annoying though she could be – she would bring her smelly wetness with her everywhere – we never once regretted bringing her along with us. She was our greatest comfort. When the sea tossed and churned us, and my mother felt like death from seasickness, she’d sit down below, white to the gills, with Stella on her lap, cuddling and being cuddled.And when I was terrified by the mountainous seas and the screaming wind, I would curl up with Stella on my bunk, bury my head in her neck and hold her tight.
I always kept Eddie’s football close beside me as well.
The football had become a sort of talisman for me, a lucky charm, and it really seemed to work, too. After all, every storm did blow itself out in the end and, afterwards, we were always still there, still alive and still afloat.
At school I had never been much good at writing. I could never think of what to write or how to begin. But on the Peggy Sue I found I could open up my log and just write. There was always so much I wanted to say.I’m looking at my log now. The paper is a bit crinkled and the pages are yellowed with age. My scribbly writing is a little faded, but it’s mostly quite legible. What follows are just a few chosen extracts from this log. The entries are quite short, but they tell the tale.
Kensuke's kingdom 1c
We sat there completely dumbstruck. “Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” he went on. “You’re thinking, all we’ve ever done is reservoir sailing, dinghy sailing. You’re thinking, he’s gone crazy, loopy in the head. You’re thinking, it’s dangerous. You’re thinking, we’ll be flat broke. But I’ve thought it all out. I even thought of your gran – there’s a thing. We won’t be gone for ever, will we? She’ll be here when we get back, won’t she? She’s perfectly healthy.
“We’ve got the money. I’ve done my sums. We’re going to do six months’ training. We’ll be away a year, eighteen months maybe, just so long as the money lasts. We’re going to do it safe, do it properly. Mum, you’ll do your Yachtmaster’s certificate. Oh, didn’t I say? I didn’t did I? You’ll be the skipper, Mum. I’ll be first mate and handyman. Michael, you’ll be ship’s boy, and Stella – well Stella can be the ship’s cat.”“What about Michael’s school?” she went on.
“I’ve thought of that, too. I asked in the local school down here. It’s all arranged. We’ll take all the books he’ll need. I’ll teach him. You’ll teach him. He’ll teach himself. I’ll tell you something for nothing, he’ll learn more in a couple of years at sea, than he ever would in that monkey school of his. Promise.”
She took a sip of tea, and then nodded slowly. “All right,” she said, and I saw she was smiling. “Why not? Go ahead then. Buy her. Buy the boat.”
“I already have,” said my father.Everyone warned us against it. Gran came visiting and stayed on board. It was all quite ridiculous she said, reckless, irresponsible. She was full of doom and gloom. Icebergs, hurricanes, pirates, whales, supertankers, freak waves – she heaped up horror upon horror, thinking to frighten me and so frighten off my mother and father. She succeeded in terrifying me all right, but I never showed it. What she didn’t understand was that we three were already bound together now by a common lunacy. We were going, and nothing and no one could stop us. We were doing what people do in fairytales. We were going off to seek adventure.My mother, though, never showed even the faintest tremor of fear. It was her and the Peggy Sue between them that saw us through our worst moments. She was seasick from time to time, and we never were. So that was something.
We lived close, all of us, cheek by jowl, and I soon discovered parents were more than just parents. My father became my friend, my shipmate. We came to rely on each other. And as for my mother, the truth is – and I admit it – that I didn’t know she had it in her. I always known she was gritty, that she’d always keep on at a thing until she’d done it. But she worked night and day over her books and charts until she had mastered everything. She never stopped. True, she could be a bit of a tyrant if we didn’t keep the boat shipshape, but neither my father nor I minded that much, though we pretended to. She was the skipper.
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