Christmas around the World by Xanna Eve Chown

Author:Xanna Eve Chown [Chown, Xanna Eve]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
Publisher: Big Finish
Published: 2008-12-16T16:36:46+00:00

Indian Ocean 1814

No Room

Rebecca Levene

An adventure of the Seventh Doctor,

with Chris

Chris was poised to cut open the final coconut when the ship hove into view over the horizon. He put down the machete and concentrated on watching it, in the distant hope that it might actually sail anywhere near them.

Beside him, the Doctor was sleeping beneath his hat, only his chin exposed to a severe shaft of light from the midday sun. If he stayed that way very long, he was going to get burnt, but Chris didn’t bother to wake him. It was, after all, entirely his fault that they were stuck here.

Remarkably, the ship was still approaching. Chris could make out its masts now, three of them, and the fine white spread of canvas that was driving it before the wind. Then, just when he was beginning to hope, it stopped. He sighed.

The Doctor sat up beside him, shading his eye to peer at the ship. ‘Ah. There she is at last.’

‘She’s not coming any closer,’ Chris pointed out.

‘Draws too much water. Too many reefs around here. Nasty things. They’ll send a jolly boat.’

The Doctor was right. Chris could see it now, ten white-suited men pulling at its oars as it drew closer. He supposed they did look rather cheerful, with blue bands on their straw hats and ribbons sewn into the seams of their trousers.

Nearer still, and he saw that there was a passenger, a big-boned, fair-haired man with a face so red even the tropical sun couldn’t bleach it to blankness. When the boat was playing in the breakers, he hopped out with surprising agility and strode through the surf towards them.

The Doctor stood up and doffed his hat as Chris scrambled to his feet beside him.

‘Good day, gentlemen,’ the man said. ‘You are in want of a ship, I collect.’

In the annals of the bleeding obvious, this scored pretty high, but the Doctor grinned delightedly. ‘Oh yes, indeed. Ours met with a rather unlucky accident.’

Chris snorted, and the Doctor trod heavily on his toe as he moved forward to shake the man’s hand. ‘You’ll be the Captain of that lovely vessel, I imagine.’

The man bowed his head, and Chris saw that his fair hair was caught at the back in a tight bunch. ‘I have that honour. And may I ask your name, sir? And the name of the craft that had the great misfortune to leave you stranded here?’

‘I’m the Doctor, and this is my – my loblolly boy, Cwej.’

Chris glared at him. ‘Your what?’

‘Please forgive him,’ the Doctor said to the Captain. ‘He’s foreign.’

‘And your ship?’ the Captain asked.

‘The Tardis.’

The other man frowned, an expression which sat uncomfortably on his cheerful face. ‘I fear I’m unfamiliar with her. Was she an Indiaman?’

‘A Gallifreyan,’ the Doctor said, and skipped through the waves to hop into the jolly boat before the Captain could ask him anything further.

Chris sat at the back of the boat as they approached the ship. The sea had looked calm from

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