The Cannibals by Iain Lawrence

Author:Iain Lawrence
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781417819829
Publisher: San Val
Published: 2007-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

fifteen

THE FATE OF CROC ADAMS

I fled from the house and ran to the beach. In my fear and shock, I could hardly speak. But the others pressed around, asking questions, and I stammered out that I had seen a dead man at a table.

“Do you think it was Sunny Wheeler?” asked Midge.

“He didn't give his name,” I said, still shivering.

“But you'd know him,” said Midge. “They call him Sunny 'cause his hair's as yellow as the sun.”

I heard my own laugh, a crazy sound. “He didn't have any hair. He didn't have any head.”

“Oh, Lord!” said Mr. Mullock.

We were all standing on the beach, looking up at the walls and roof of the hut. The flies were buzzing again, and I couldn't get warm, no matter how I held myself. “He had terrible hands,” I said. “He had claws for hands.”

“He did?” asked Midge. “Like this, you mean?” He curled and twisted his own hands, tucking fingers and thumb out of sight. “Like they was eaten away, Tom?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Holy jumping mother of Moses. You know who that is?” Midge gaped up at me. “That's old Croc Adams, ain't it? And don't that explain it all? Croc Adams, he traps the crocodiles and sells them to make purses for ladies. It was a crocodile trap what caught Mr. Mullock.”

I couldn't understand Midgely's excitement. “So where's Sunny Wheeler?”

“Gone native,” said Mr. Mullock. “Hah! That's what 'appens on these islands. You come out from England and start living the good life, picking your food from the trees. You lie on the beach and swim in the surf, and the next thing you know you're out collecting 'eads.”

I wondered if he wasn't describing himself. But then he shrugged and said, “That's what I've 'eard.”

“No, no!” cried Midgely. “Sunny Wheeler weren't never here. I thought this was his island, but it ain't. It's old Croc Adams what lives here. And you know what, Tom? Now I know where we are.”

Mr. Mullock groaned. I said, “Oh, Midge. You keep telling us that, and you're always wrong.”

“But I do know now,” he said. “Them little islands what looked like ships? That galleon island, remember? They weren't what I thought, but I see it now. The reverend called them the Pastry Places, 'cause his daughter said they was like fancy cakes, them little islands. You remember that from the book don't you, Tom?”

“No,” I said. Midge had spent years with the book. He'd learned every word. But there wasn't a lot I remembered myself.

“You know where old Croc Adams lives?” said Midgely. “Not five miles from the reverend's mission, that's where he lives, Tom Tin.” Midge was nearly shaking with excitement. “It's on that other island. The very next island.”

“Then it might as well be on the moon,” said Mr. Mullock. “Since we 'aven't a boat anymore.”

“You stupids,” said Midge. “Don't you think old Croc Adams has a boat?”

He was right, and it was Boggis who found it. We all blundered through the bushes and round about the house, but Boggis went down to the water and found it floating on a mooring.

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