Eventually some native fishermen came by and rescued him. I was
left on the beach alone, but not for long.
The pirates came back in heavily loaded ships, but they didn’t res-
cue me. Instead, they cut most of me up: for firewood, for stools, or for
other uses. From the ships, they unloaded cargo, which they hid in the
cave. At times they lugged the cargo back out to other ships or buried it.
Lookouts constantly watched for unfriendly ships.
But one day a military ship found the pirates, and there was a frenzied
battle, with men and their weapons and their shouting all over the island.
When it was over, one of the soldiers said, “It has taken us a long
time to catch these pirates. I hope that’s the end of piracy and smug-
gling in this area.”
Then they left me to the quiet again—what remained of me. I was
now about three feet long and had been flung behind some rocks. I
was stuck fast. Once more I could only listen to the surf and watch the
creatures around me—sand crabs and turtles, birds and insects. The sun
and moon and stars drifted above me. Seawater danced in to tease and
tickle me, then crept away again. And every time the tide changed, it
buried me a little deeper in the sand.
It was a typhoon that rescued me. The raging wind and enormous
crashing waves tore the sand and rocks away and lifted me out. I was
free again, free to drift the world’s oceans, and that’s what I did for
many a sailor’s lifetime.
I wasn’t at all lonely. I met whales migrating to richer feeding
grounds. Dolphins swam beside me; flying fish jumped over me; sea-
weed grabbed hold and trailed along; sardines hid in my shadow. At38