Dave Shelton - A Boy and A Bear in a Boat

A DAVID FICKLING BOOK

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2012 by Dave Shelton

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by David Fickling Books, an imprint of Random House Childrens Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published in Great Britain by David Fickling Books, an imprint of Random House Childrens Books, a division of the Random House Group Ltd., London, in 2012.

David Fickling Books and the colophon are trademarks of David Fickling.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

eISBN: 978-0-375-98475-4

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v3.1

For Pam

W elcome aboard, said the bear, standing and turning to face the boy. He had been holding the boat steady as the boy got in. Now he released his grip on the wooden jetty and pushed them out into the water and the boy felt an unsteadiness beneath his feet.

Hello, said the boy. The rolling of the boat put a tremble in his voice.

Where to? said the bear.

The boy wobbled back to the rear seat, concentrating as the hull rolled and bounced beneath him. He half sat and half fell onto the hard wooden bench, bashing his wrist painfully against the edge as he landed.

Ow! he said. Just over to the other side, please. He waved his unbashed hand vaguely out across the water without looking up.

Right you are, said the bear.

The boy stowed his bag beneath his seat. He found a gap in the jumble of junk already taking up most of the space there and then pushed quite hard to persuade the bag into place. There was a small crunching noise. The boy looked up guiltily towards the bear, but it seemed he hadnt heard. He was sitting on the front seat fitting the oars into place. He dipped the blade of one oar into the water and pulled on it briefly, turning the boat to face away from the jetty. The boy felt the boat wobble and then settle, and the insides of his stomach did the same. The bear took a look over his shoulder and squinted into the distance. He made a small low noise. Then he reached forward, dropped the blades of the oars into the water and pulled back on the handles in a long, easy movement, setting the boat into motion.

Away we go, he said.

Will it take long? said the boy.

A little while, said the bear.

Away from the shade of the jetty they were in the full glare of the sun and the boy felt itchily hot. He took off his coat and scrunched it up on the seat beside him. He looked at the bear. He was a big bear and the boat was only a small boat. When he leaned forward at the start of each stroke it was as if he were lunging towards the boy, reaching out to grab at him. And the boat pitched and rolled and bounced as if the world had become unfixed. It was a little unnerving. He would be glad to get where he was going, back on firm ground again. He looked past the bear, out over the water ahead of them.

You cant even see it from here, can you? he said. I thought youd be able to see it.

No, its quite a way, said the bear.

The boy leaned back and raised his face towards the sun. He closed his eyes and played with the colours of darkness he could see by pressing his eyelids more or less tightly together. He liked the greeny blue the best, but it was difficult to hold on to for long. He yawned and lolled his head forward and his eyes fell open again.

He watched the bear. It was a reassuring sight. He rowed as if it were the most natural movement he could make. As natural as walking, or breathing even. He had a steady, casual rhythm and seemed to be making almost no effort at all but the boat sped along just the same. The boy closed his eyes again and listened to the rhythm of the oars.

Splish, splish, splish

It was rather calming. And the boat was only gently rocking now, soothing rather than unsettling him. He leaned out over the side of the boat and looked down at the water, watching through half-closed eyes the dancing patterns of sunlit ripples. Then he trailed a hand in the water and made patterns of his own. The water was cold, but pleasingly so. He pulled his hand back inside the boat and yawned again. Without realising it, he had pulled his legs up onto the seat so that he was lying on it, curled up to fit the space. The sunlight on the water was too bright for comfort, so he moved his head back inside the boat, resting it on his bunched-up coat. He looked at the weave of the fabric, picked out in detail by the sunlight. He felt the warmth of the sun on his skin. He listened to the oars, steady as a heartbeat, and the gently lapping waves. He felt the sway of the boat beneath him, rocking like a cradle.

He closed his eyes.

W hen the boy opened his eyes again he couldnt think for a moment where he was. But then the faint taste of salt on his lips, the smell of damp fur and the sound of oars dipping into water splish, splish, splish all helped remind him. And then his bleary eyes focused and he saw the bear.

Oh, yes.

He sat up, shrugging off a tatty blanket that had been draped over him, and blinked hard twice. Then he looked past the bear. There was still no sign of land ahead of them. But there was no sign of the land theyd set out from behind them either. In fact in every direction all he could see was sea and sky.

He looked at his watch but it showed exactly the same time now as it had when they had set off. He held it to his ear but it was silent.

Its stopped, he said, sleepily.

The bear looked at him, as if noticing him for the first time.

Good morning, said the bear.