The Doughty Warriors All at Sea

By Brenda Broster

Another Doughty Warriors daring adventure. Joseph, Ibrahim, Vinod, Xin-Hui, Faradilla and Toby discover that local fishermen are killing the dolphins. Why?

What is happening? Their curiosity leads them to a terrible discovery. They have to put matters right.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524661441

Brenda Broster

Brenda Broster, with her usual flair for story-telling, presents us with another compelling Doughty Warriors’ story.

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© 2016 Brenda Broster. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/08/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-6145-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-6144-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Think, occasionally, of the suffering,

of which you spare yourself the sight.

Albert Schweitzer

This story is for all the children of the world who will, one day, make it a better place.

CHAPTER 1

Xin-Hui and Faradilla had made themselves very comfortable, digging out a hollow each in the soft sand at the top of the beach, and burrowing down deep into it. They were lying on their stomachs, looking down towards the sea. The night was warm, the moon was high and full, and multitudes of stars twinkled above them. The calm sea, silver-tipped, reflecting the moon on its surface, whispered gently on the sandy shore.

It’s so pretty, lah! sighed Xin-Hui, chin resting on her fist. She was gazing at the sea and at the sky, trying to take it all in.

The boys are waving at us. I think something is happening. whispered Faradilla. They both turned to look at the boys who, further along the beach, ensconced in their own sandy hollows, were waving their arms in the air. Xin-Hui waved back. It was the signal.

The children lay quiet and still, straining their eyes, trying to see.

Something is coming. Can you hear it? Faradilla whispered. Her hearing was particularly acute.

No. I cannot hear anything, Xin-Hui answered. The girls and the boys lay in their hollows, listening intently. Finally Xin-Hui whispered Aah, I can hear it now. And, sure enough, there was a slight shuffling sound, a sigh on the wind, so faint that if the children were not concentrating, they would not have heard it. The sound slowly grew louder, and then they saw, in the moonlight, the huge turtle dragging herself up the beach. She dug her long claws determinedly into the sand. Her journey was laboured, slow and arduous, and she was panting with the effort. She was more at home swimming free and unimpeded in the oceans than struggling up a sandy beach.

So big, breathed Xin-Hui. She had only ever seen turtles in the zoo where, looking down on them from above, they appeared smaller than they actually were. She is much bigger than I am. Can she hurt us? She was a little afraid.

No. She only wants to lay her eggs, Faradilla answered her. They watched as the big turtle hauled herself up the beach. Finally, she came to a halt and, after a short breathing space, started to dig into the soft sand with her powerful front claws. And then another turtle came ashore, and another, and another, until there were, it seemed, twenty or thirty of them, all dragging themselves up to the higher levels of the beach, and digging holes in the sand. The children lay quietly watching. The turtles laid a decoy hole first, filled it in with sand, and then dug another hole into which they laid their eggs.

They strained and panted; some had tears rolling down their ancient primeval faces, as they made the huge effort required.

Why are they crying? Xin-Hui whispered.

Ibu says that giving birth is a painful business. And laying eggs is like giving birth. Faradilla thought that Xin-Hui was sometimes very ignorant.

The turtles had swum thousands of miles to get here, to this beach, just to lay these eggs. Once the eggs were laid, using their big powerful flippers, they covered them with sand, and made their way slowly back down the beach to the sea, slipped quietly into the water, and swam away.

Joseph, Ibrahim, Vinod and Toby were further down the beach, in a less sheltered spot than the girls. But they were watching the turtles just as intently.

We must wait until all the turtles have laid their eggs and left, Ibrahim told the others.

They are so big, and they look so old and tired, Toby said. Toby was fascinated by the turtles. He had never seen them close up before.

You would probably look old and tired if you had swum thousands of miles, hardly stopping. Bapa says they have not changed much in two hundred million years, and they weigh about a thousand pounds each. That’s heavy, Ibrahim answered him.

Vinod chipped in Do the villagers really take the eggs? Why? They have chickens in the village.

Well, I suppose they are hungry, and turtle eggs taste different. Bapa says they are a good source of protein for them. They kill the turtles and eat the meat too. They say it is delicious. You’ve heard of turtle soup! Ibrahim was distracted, watching the trees behind them intently as he spoke. He was looking out for villagers who might have come early to take the eggs, or even the turtles. He did not want trouble with the villagers. Joseph noticed the direction of Ibrahim’s gaze.

Uncle Yusof said the villagers won’t come down until the morning. After all, they don’t know we’re here. He’s right, isn’t he; they won’t come? Joseph was a little worried. He did not particularly relish the prospect of big arguments with hungry villagers.

I hope he’s right, said Toby.

Nearly all the turtles have gone back to the sea. We shall soon be able to start. Vinod was still watching the turtles. Where will they go now?

I do not know. They just swim, thousands and thousands of miles, all round the oceans, until they come back here again next year to lay eggs all over again.

Why do we need to protect the eggs? Vinod was always curious, always the one to ask questions.

Because they get eaten by the villagers and, if that doesn’t happen, when they hatch, the hatchlings will get gobbled up by the birds and lizards on their way down to the sea. Bapa says turtles are a threatened species, and we have to do all we can to protect them, or they will become extinct. I think they have all gone back to the sea now. Come on!

Ibrahim jumped up, dusted the sand off his clothes, and picked up the bucket he had brought. The other children all jumped up, dusted themselves down, and joined him, each clutching a large bucket. The girls looked around them warily. The moon was full, but it was still eerie here, on the beach, in the moonlight.

They each chose a recently dug turtle nest and started to dig – very carefully with their bare hands. They did not want to damage the eggs. Fortunately, it was easy to see because the moonlight was so bright. When they reached the eggs, they scooped them up and placed them carefully in the buckets, which were lined with sand so the eggs would not be harmed.

Ugh! They are soft, lah! Where are their shells? Xin-Hui pulled a face in disgust. She had only ever seen chickens’ eggs before.

They do not have shells, Silly! Faradilla grunted as, leaning down deep into a hole in the sand, she scooped out another handful of eggs.

Do not forget to fill the holes in with sand again, like Uncle Yusof said, Joseph reminded them.

They worked hard for a couple of hours until Joseph, straightening his back wearily, said I think that’s it. I think we’ve dug up all the eggs.

Come on, then, let’s go. They were anxious to leave the beach before the villagers discovered all the turtle eggs stolen.

Carrying the buckets carefully, the children made their way back to the kampong where Yusof (Ibrahim and Faradilla’s father), had created a ‘hatchery’ especially for the turtle eggs. At first, the pathway was sandy, and they walked barefoot, but when the ground underfoot became muddy and woody, they had to stop and put their shoes on. Faradilla, who was much smaller than the others, was struggling with her bucket, so Joseph unloaded some of her eggs into his bucket, to lighten her load. Whereas, on the beach, the moon had provided lots of light, it was dark in the forest. The trees and undergrowth were thick and impassable unless you knew the way. Ibrahim took the lead. He was familiar with the forest and knew every tiny path and trail there was. Xin-Hui and Vinod clung closely to the others. Neither of them liked to admit that they were scared, but the night noises, shadows and rustlings in the dark were very frightening.

A shaft of moonlight broke through the dense foliage in a small clearing. At the side of the path, something glistened.

What is that? Toby went to have a look. A hooped piece of metal was sticking out of the ground.

Do not touch it! Ibrahim whispered urgently. Stand back. Startled, Toby jumped back. Handing his bucket full of turtle eggs to Joseph, Ibrahim looked around and found a stout tree branch lying on the ground. Taking it, he jabbed at the metal with it. Immediately another piece of hooped metal sprang up, and clanged against the first hoop. Both hoops were lined with jagged teeth, and they held fast together.

See. It’s a trap, said Ibrahim. The villagers trap animals in the forest for meat, or to sell in the market. They usually get them by the leg. Sometimes they get an animal by the neck. At least it dies quickly then. If they are trapped by the leg or a paw and not found quickly, they die slowly and in agony. Sometimes, they chew through their own legs to try and get away. Ibrahim was angry. Bapa had shown him traps before. The children stood around staring in horror at the trap.

I shall tell Bapa about that, Ibrahim said grimly.

Come on, let’s go, Joseph said. He was anxious to get away from this horrid contraption, and still nervous that they might be spotted by the villagers. The children headed off, none of them wanting to talk, shocked by what they had just seen.

It was not long before they emerged from the forest into the clearing by the kampong which Yusof had turned into a Sanctuary for sick and damaged creatures. The bears in the bear compound grunted softly as the children passed by, but all the other creatures slept on. It was very late. They headed for the shed which Yusof had converted into a hatchery. He had built sandy nests all along the walls of the shed, and the children carefully placed the eggs into each of the nests and covered them with sand.

When these eggs hatch, we shall take them down to the sea and release them into the water. Even if the villagers were to leave any eggs on the beach and they hatched, the little hatchlings would have such a long run from the top of the beach down to the sea that every bird and lizard in the area would have a feast, and scarcely any of the hatchlings would get there. By releasing them directly into the sea, we are at least giving them a better chance of survival. They will still be prey to big fish, of course, but we cannot protect them from everything. Yusof smiled at the children. Now, you have done a good job, and you all look exhausted, so off to bed with you, and we can talk in the morning.

Ibrahim told his father about the trap he had sprung in the forest. Yusof frowned.

Hmmm! he said. But he said no more.

Joseph yawned G’ night, Uncle Yusof. Good night, Ayah, said Faradilla and Ibrahim. Good night, Uncle, chorused the others. Katak, the dog, greeted them warmly as they approached the house and, within minutes, the six children were curled up on the anjung, fast asleep, with Katak snuggled down beside Faradilla.

Xin-Hui had a lovely dream about twinkling stars and silvery seas, and riding on the backs of turtles. Joseph, on the other hand, had a restless night, dreaming of battles with huge, wild and angry villagers with spears and machetes. He woke with a start; Ibrahim was nudging him awake. Wake up, lazybones. We’re going sailing, he said.

CHAPTER 2

Joseph’s father, Mr Brown, had bought them a Wayfarer, thinking it good for the children to sail. They had spent most of their holidays in the forest recently, and Joseph was looking a little pale. Fresh sea air would do him good. The boat was a big success, the children loved it, and Joseph and Ibrahim were both excellent sailors. They named it ‘Sea Mist’ after watching the mist roll in over the sea early one morning.

The ‘Sea Mist’, ready mounted on its launch trolley, was resting under a palm tree at the top of the beach. Inside the boat, in big canvas sacks, were all the tackle and the children’s lifejackets. They wheeled the trolley down the beach to the water’s edge, and started to rig the boat. It did not take them long and soon they had put on their life jackets, raised the sail, and pushed the boat into the water. Joseph jumped in first and pulled up the centre board. Then the others clambered in after him. Ibrahim took the tiller. They settled down, and