2: Survival
In the end, they compromised. Jemima stayed put, erecting tents and hammering in pegs, whilst George and Ralph went in opposite directions with blank maps, looking for equipment. George went clockwise, Ralph anti-clockwise, and when they met, their plan was to cut back across the middle of the island to the camp.
The sun was in George's eyes as he set off, keeping his eyes peeled for anything which looked out of place on a deserted island. To his left were cliffs, dropping twenty feet into the sea, and to his right was an empty expanse of grass, rippling as the wind blew across it. Five minutes of walking yielded nothing except a lump of ancient concrete on a cliff edge, stained by saltwater. To be sure, George double-checked all sides of it, but he couldn't lift it and there was nothing there. He moved on, and after climbing a short slope, the coastline started to turn south, giving him a good view of the mainland on the other side of a channel. The sea was foaming white where it hit the rocks on the mainland, but there weren't any tall cliffs and George squinted into the sun, trying to see if he could see any signs of inhabitation. Once again, there was nothing, so George carried on walking, now descending down to a tiny strip of yellow sand. He spotted Ralph approaching from dead ahead, and the two lads exchanged waves.
"Anything?" George asked, holding out his empty hands to show he had nothing.
Ralph jiggled a red petrol can. "Found this down on the corner of the beach, but nothing else."
George nodded. The wind was still whipping past them and he raised his voice so he could be heard. "Well, we've got our fuel for the boat. Looks like we just need to put the engine together."
Ralph looked out from the beach at the mainland, his forehead creasing. "Don't you feel like we're missing something?" he asked.
"Like what?" George asked, following his gaze but seeing nothing but sea and stone.
"How far do you reckon the mainland is?" Ralph asked.
"Don't know, two hundred metres, maybe?" George said. "Why, do you reckon we can row it?"
Ralph laughed. "Row it? I reckon we could swim it, man."
When they got back to the camp, which looked much more comfortable with their tents up and equipment safely stowed, Ralph put his idea to Jemima.
"You're sure it's that close?" she asked, looking skeptical.
George shrugged. "I mean, even if it's twice that, we've all swum much further than that in the pool on campus."
"The pool is one thing, but the sea will have currents and stuff," Jemima cautioned. "And even at this time of year it'll be cold."
Ralph seemed impatient. "George, check the briefing. What exactly does it say we need to do to pass the exercise?"
George dug it out of his pack. "Let's see… It just says we need to reach the mainland."
"Doesn't say how," Ralph said, triumphantly. "Half an hour's swimming and then we radio Yeboah and we'll be back on campus in hot showers by the end of the day."
This prospect was very appealing and George's view of the swimming plan improved dramatically. "You have to admit it makes sense," he said to Jemima.
Jemima chewed her lip. "How long do you reckon it'll take to build the engine, with all three of us?"
Ralph pointed to the instruction manual, which was as thick as a book. "These things are usually assembled by machines in factories," he said. "A tiny bit of dirt in the wrong place, or a part installed backwards, and we could be here for days."
To prove his point, he grabbed the instructions and flicked through them, then faltered. "Oh, it's in about fifty languages, actually."
Poking through the boxes of engine parts, George spoke up. "Most of it's already assembled, actually," he said. "I've overhauled engines like this with Terry in the technical department, too."
"How long will it take?" Jemima asked again.
"No longer than a day. We'll be on the mainland tomorrow at the latest," George admitted.
"That settles it," Jemima said. "I'm not risking drowning in the ocean if we've got a perfectly good boat."
Jemima wasn't officially the leader, but they had to stick together to pass the exercise, so the boys just went along with it.
"Okay, George, you're the mechanic, then," she said, pulling the instructions out of Ralph's hands and slapping them down on top of a box of parts. "You get to work with our engine. Ralph, you give him a hand. I'll work on what we're going to eat today and make sure we've got enough shelter tonight."
By the time the sky was turning red and the sun was heading for the horizon out to sea, George and Ralph had the majority of the engine assembled. They still needed to bolt it to the boat and test it, but there wasn't much fuel in the petrol can and George was worried that too much testing would mean they'd run out. His hands were covered in grease and grime as Jemima approached to hand him a metal mug full of instant noodles.
"One sec," he said, putting down his spanner and wiping his hands vigorously on the grass. "Okay, let's have it."
Jemima passed him the mug and a spork. "Good work," she said, surveying the unfinished engine.
"What time is it?" George asked, blowing on the hot water to cool it before digging in.
"Half past nine," Ralph said, reading it off their GPS.
George looked shocked. "And it's still this light?" he said, looking over at the sun.
Ralph chuckled. "Won't be dark for another hour this far north," he explained. "It'll be light early, too, so we can get cracking."
George groaned as he thought about another night with not enough sleep. "I hate these exercises," he moaned. "They always deprive you of sleep and then you feel crap for days afterwards."
"I might turn in early, unless you need me," Jemima said, smirking.
"Might as well," Ralph shrugged. "Better that one of us gets her beauty sleep."
Jemima flicked Ralph's knee and he yelped.
The wind whistling past the thin fabric of the tent kept George up most of the hours of darkness, and it abruptly turned cold, so when he emerged from his sleeping bag into the dawn, there was dew on the grass and he shivered.
"Morning," Jemima said cheerfully, pointing to a steaming mug of tea. "That one's yours."
"You're up early," George said, grabbing the tea gratefully and taking a sip before making a face. "Is it me, or is this salty?"
Jemima giggled. "There aren't any decent washing facilities here, so I did my best to rinse out the taste of the noodles. Obviously I failed."
George grimaced but persevered. "What's for breakfast?"
Jemima jiggled a packet of instant noodles and George groaned.
"I'll give that a miss," he said, making himself swallow a few mouthfuls of tea. "The sooner this engine's done, the sooner I'm eating bacon and eggs in the cafeteria."
Ralph seemed to still be asleep, so Jemima assisted him, and by the time the sun was up and had burnt away the dew, George was tightening the last of the bolts to attach it to the boat. Although it had been mostly assembled already, he'd done the rest without any mistakes and felt a touch of pride as he looked at the motor.
"Okay greasemonkey, stop staring at the metal and give me a hand waking Ralph up," Jemima said. "Much as I'd love to leave him here, we need him to help carry the boat to the beach."
Yeboah's advice that they should have taken their equipment to the beach first was ringing in their ears as they dragged the boat across the island. Fully assembled, it was almost too heavy for the three of them to lift, and on the soft grass, it was easy to stumble and crush someone under the weight. They found that the easiest way was for George and Ralph to lift the back, which was heavier, and Jemima the front, walking backwards and navigating around the occasional grassy knoll or hole in the ground.
It took them almost an hour, with frequent rest breaks, but they eventually touched the boat down on the sandy beach and wiped sweat off their faces, which were starting to get warm in the sun.
"This had better work," Jemima warned George as she gave the boys a hand in pushing the boat across the sand and into the water.
"It will," George said, confidently. They reached the edge of the water, where the waves were gently breaking, and all three of them hesitated.
"We're going to have to get wet," George grinned. "We need to push it into deep enough water that the propeller won't snag on the bottom."
"What about the current?" Jemima asked, anxiously. "Once the boat's floating, it could easily get swept away."
George thought about this. "Probably best to just grab hold of it tightly and try to jump in if it starts moving," he suggested.
"What about testing the engine? If we kept swept down the coast with a dead engine, we could end up anywhere," Ralph said.
"I don't know, we can't do everything," George snapped back. "If we had ropes and stuff we could tether the boat but we don't have them and I can't think of any better ideas."
"Alright, mate, calm down," Ralph said. "I was only asking."
George took a deep breath. "Come on. Once it's floating, I'll jump in and try to get the engine going. That's the best I can offer."
Heaving himself up over the side of the boat as it rolled in the waves was easier said than done, especially since he was still wearing his sodden boots, but George eventually managed to get into the boat without capsizing it. Dripping water everywhere, he gave the engine one last check over, then grabbed the ripcord.
"Okay, make sure the propeller is clear," he shouted to Ralph.
"Definitely is," Ralph said over the noise of the waves.
"Now go round to the front with Jemima," George told him. "Get ready to jump in."
Ralph disappeared around the side of the boat, waves lapping around his armpits, and George gave the cord a hard tug. The engine coughed and turned over, but didn't start. He tried again, and this time he was rewarded by a roar and thick exhaust smoke billowing out.
"Get in!" he shouted to the other Cherubs, keeping the engine in neutral but alarmed by the smoke.
"Should there be that much smoke?" Jemima asked, coughing as she hauled herself into the boat, followed by Ralph, who needed three goes to get himself out of the water.
"Something's wrong with it, but we only need it for a little bit," George reassured her.
With everyone safely embarked, George eased the engine into gear and was rewarded by the boat starting to move forwards. He steered against the direction he expected the current to be flowing, then gave it some more throttle to pick up speed. With the three Cherubs in it, the boat was steady, and the current was either weak or non-existent. The boat cruised happily across the channel.
"How do we stop on the other side?" Ralph asked, looking anxiously at the rocky shore.
"I need a beach or something," George explained, shouting over the engine. "Otherwise we just crash and sink."
The wind was blowing the exhaust smoke away, which gave George a decent view of the coast. He started to turn more, looking for a beach, until they were sailing parallel with the coast, nothing but rocks as far as George could see.
"Come on," he said, squinting into the sun again. "There's got to be something."
"There!" Jemima shouted to him, pointing to a narrow gap between some rocks. "There's sand on the other side."
There could be rocks underwater and George had no idea how high the tide was, but he had no other options so he throttled towards the gap. As he did so, the engine coughed again, then made a whining sound, then coughed and died.
"No petrol," George said, desperately, as the current began to push them off course. "If we hit the rocks, we're in trouble."
"Screw it," Ralph said, reaching down and untying his shoelaces, before kicking his boots off. "Let's swim it."
Everyone agreed and hurriedly threw off their boots. Abandoning everything except their transceivers, the three Cherubs carefully lowered themselves over the edge of the boat and then struck out towards the rocky gap. George was a strong swimmer, but Jemima had got into the water ahead of him, so he followed her, Ralph behind, his legs weighing a ton in his combat trousers, which he wished he'd taken off. As soon as they passed the rocks, the current dropped to nothing and George realised he could touch the bottom with his feet. Soaking, Jemima waded the last ten metres and then raised a fist in triumph when she arrived on dry land.
"Crap," she said, pointing back the way they'd come. As George looked around, he saw the boat, which had crashed into a rock and was now wedged there, slowly sinking as the waves lapped over the sides.
"Not our problem," George said, giving Ralph a high five. "We've passed the exercise."
"Let me try my transceiver," Jemima said, but George heard the roar of an engine over the sound of the sea and a quad bike suddenly appeared at the top of the beach, Yeboah sitting astride it. He skidded to a halt on the soft surface and the Cherubs jogged over, wincing as sharp stones dug into their feet.
"Exercise passed," Yeboah said coldly. "Judging by your boat over there, I'd say only just."