Close to the Wind by Jon Walter

Author:Jon Walter [Jon Walter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781910200254
Publisher: David Fickling Books Ltd
Published: 2014-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

Part 2

The purser’s beard was thick and black and, being untrimmed, it made him look a proper sailor, with deep-set eyes that stared at the boy who stood before him in the blue short trousers and green Wellington boots.

Malik said, ‘You have to take me back.’

‘That’s impossible,’ said the purser. ‘I have no intention of taking you back. Do you expect me to tell the captain he has to turn the ship around?’

Malik folded his arms across his chest. It was obvious that he did. ‘My grandfather has been left behind. And Mama too.’ He glared at the purser. ‘I shouldn’t be here on my own.’

The purser reached across the desk for the passenger list. ‘Show me your ticket.’

Malik took the folded yellow ticket from the pocket of his shorts and handed it across. The purser turned it in his fingers and read the name that was printed on the back, then traced the column of type on his list, flicked the paper to the second page and traced again.

‘Papa’s surname is Bartholomew,’ Malik helped him. ‘It’s not Kusak like Mama and me.’

‘There’s been no mistake. Neither your mother nor your grandfather have a place on the ship. But you are listed – your name is on the register of orphans. See here?’ He turned the list round and Malik saw his name added to the bottom of the list in black pen. ‘Your ticket originates from the charity that has sponsored the allocation for orphans.’

‘But I’m not an orphan!’ Malik stamped his foot in disbelief. ‘You’re wrong. Papa told me he had a ticket.’

He had told him, hadn’t he? Malik thought back to their conversation on the dock and tried to remember whether he had seen Papa’s ticket. Could he remember the colour of it? The orphans all had yellow tickets, the same as Malik’s, but Papa’s would have been blue, the same as the tickets Mariam’s husband had handed to the collector. But Malik couldn’t remember seeing a blue ticket. He couldn’t recall seeing Papa with a ticket at all. Only that would mean Papa had lied to him.

The purser tapped his fingers on the desk. He looked like he was struggling with thoughts of his own. ‘How did you get on board the ship?’

‘I showed the man my ticket at the steps. Papa sent a woman with a message for me to meet Mama in the purser’s cabin. Listen, you are the purser, aren’t you?’

The purser nodded.

‘Then you must see that someone has made a mistake.’

‘There’s been no mistake, Malik.’ The purser leaned forward in his chair. ‘To be honest, if you’re not an orphan, then you’re very lucky to be on the ship – the allocation of tickets has been very strict.’

Malik clenched his hands into fists. ‘I’m not lucky!’ He raised his voice. ‘I don’t want to be here. I want to be back at the port.’

The purser sat back quickly. ‘Please don’t shout at me. It doesn’t help.’

The floor beneath Malik’s feet shuddered gently

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