Absently tugging out splinters and rope fragments from his heavily freckled skin, a boy contemplated the edge of a vast continent. It was barely visible over a wide expanse of waves, just a thin strip of white sand shimmering in the heat.
From his place high in the crow’s nest, Andrew McCoy could also make out a dark ribbon of colour hovering just above that far-away shore. Recalling what little he had been told about the journey’s destination, he guessed that this band of darkness might be the mouth of the jungle he would soon be asked to enter.
Tired after a morning spent under the sun, Andrew sat down on the small circular platform, knees bent and bare feet flat against its tall wooden sides. He wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand before gasping in pain as salty sweat invaded the raw little wounds created by each splinters’ extraction. A breeze played across his face as he rubbed his stinging hand; its clean scent was a welcome change after a long voyage spent amongst a crew that worked hard and smelt like it. A few feet above his head the tip of an enormous sail twitched back and forth across the sun, causing his upturned face to be alternately bathed in light and plunged into shadow.
Andrew gazed skyward, hypnotized by the fluttering sail, until he heard his mother’s voice yell shrilly inside his head-
“Andrew McCoy, you quit looking at the sun unless you want to go blind!”
Andrew thought that this was unlikely, but he saw no point in taking chances; it would be difficult to become a ship’s captain if he couldn’t read a compass. He pulled the faded kerchief wound around his forehead down over his face. It was scratchy and stiff from several weeks’ perspiration, but it shielded his eyes from the worst of the sun’s rays.
