jungles, rainforests and tropical storms, but he’d already talked a lot with Alex about these and tended to get repetitive. After a while the conversation petered out and a silence fell between the pair once more.
In the afternoon Alex slept. He lashed his tiller to the mast so that the raft kept a straight course, checked his bearings with all those visual aids he had been given by the bortrekker, then dropped off into a deep and dreamless sleep. The long night of the storms had kept him awake and he was always a boy who liked his bed.
It was the tiller banging against his knee which woke him. He sat up abruptly, startled to find his tiller had worked itself free and his rudder was finding its own course. All too late it seemed he was caught on the edge of a great swirling body of water which was, at the moment, spinning the craft gently round in wide circles.
‘The maelstrom!’ he yelled, grabbing the tiller.
It was indeed the central whirlpool. Somewhere deep below him was a drain hole which was sucking water down by the thousand-gallon. If he did not free himself of its power he would taken down too and used as a plug. Not only would he drown and rot in the weeds below, but with his corpse stopping up the exit hole the tank would overflow and flood the attic, perhaps drowning many others in the process. Naturally, at the moment, he was more concerned with his own life than those of others, but if he failed to save himself he would leave behind a terrible legacy, of death and destruction.
‘Oh heck.’
He grabbed the tiller in a panic and tried to steer the raft out of the current. It was of no use. The raft simply spun in the current and continued to follow the ever-decreasing circles it was drawing.
Next he fixed the tiller again then tried to paddle out, using one of the light shovels which served as his oars. He made a little progress this time, but not enough. The raft neither moved out of the current nor went further in. Stalemate. But soon his arms began to ache and tire, he weakened, and he knew he could not keep it up.
‘Help me!’ he yelled, thoroughly frightened now. ‘Somebody, please? Anyone around? Help me.’
The waters around were bare of boats or any sign of life.
‘I’m going to drown if no one helps me,’ called Alex to the attic in general. ‘Is that what you want? Eh? Get rid of the unwanted newcomers. Well, you’ve got your wish.’
He slumped back on the floor of the raft, staring up at the roof-sky, a bitterness filling his heart with black bile.
‘I hate you. I hate everyone!’
He was going to die. It didn’t seem possible. It wasn’t fair. He was only doing this to help Mr Grantham. The raft was going faster and faster now, spinning, turning, heading towards a slope of water that went down into a hole. In the centre of the mighty whirlpool was a hole where there was nothing but air. He would probably drop all the way without even touching the sides. Without even getting wet. Once his body hit the bottom though, the water would come gushing in around him and suffocate him, filling his lungs to bursting. His brain would explode in bright lights. He knew what it was like to hold his breath – most kids had tried it – and it hurt like hell. It was a horrible death. Any death was horrible.
A huge fat crinkled worm flew over the raft.
Red, green and gold.
With whiskers.
It was there and gone in a second.
Alex sat up quickly and stared.
What was that? Was he seeing things?
No, there it was, heading towards the horizon.
It was a worm. At least it looked like a worm from where he stood.
‘Hi! Don’t go,’ he yelled in panic. ‘Come back here.’
He stood there waving and yelled again, this time angrily.
‘Get back here, you rotten bugger!’
This time the worm-thing seemed to take notice. It flew through the air with wavelike movements, flowing up and down like a serpent. When it turned back – and it did turn back – Alex could see it was an oriental dragon, the kind that Chinese people used for celebrations. It was long and tubular, with the usual mythical head and huge eyes. It flowed through the air like a kite and returned to the raft, its eyes blinking. There were long