It all began on a spring morning in 1952...

The boy with fair hair woke up at the crack of dawn. He stretched his arms as he rose from his comfortable bed and looked at the sunlight shining from his window and towards the floor, leaving an imprint of the window at the wooden ground. The boy looked out. Everything was always the same. A half-eaten bowl of sugar and cream that he would be having for breakfast, a shelf of books, an Egyptian treasure on the dresser, a toy train partially sticking out from under the bed.

All the same.

He was still here, in his same old world.

"Ralph! Breakfast is ready!" came the voice of Mummy.

Ralph had easily predicted this. She never even heard make a variation, or at least once or twice. As part of his routine, he looked out the window at the forest where the wild ponies usually roamed, went to the bathroom, got bathed, brushed his teeth, combed his hair and put on his school uniform that he had been wearing for a whole semester. He was glad that summer would be starting next month, and he could pick whatever he wanted in that wardrobe of his.

Ralph's mother was waiting for him with a bowl of cornflakes for breakfast. She was a dear woman and skilled at many things, but being the wife of a navy commander wasn't her strong suit so until recent events had occurred, she decided to divorce, leaving Ralph in the care of his father. Ralph loved his daddy more than Mummy, probably because they were of the same gender and that he had an awesome cruiser, the HMS Troubridge, which Daddy once remarked as the fastest cruiser in all of the seven seas. Ralph, innocent as he was, didn't realize he was joking.

He walked into the dining room and saw that Mummy was sitting in a chair, a cup of tea in her hand. He watched her for a moment, then moved to the table and sat in a chair across from her to eat his breakfast. She seemed so peaceful, but he knew there was something else on her mind. Gently, he asked her:

"Mummy?"

She snapped back into reality and focused on her surroundings.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. I was just thinking about your father."

She was clearly fighting tears. Ralph wanted to reach out to her, embrace her, but he wasn't in the mood. Thin tears worked their way down the crags of her face as she said, "It's just that I miss him so much sometimes. Can you believe it will be four months since this whole war started?"

Ralph recalled his father telling him about the Soviet Union (or the Reds as they called them) and the fact that they were building an atom bomb, a weapon of mass destruction that could wipe out an entire country. For this, he was called to leave, so he moved out and Ralph's mother moved back in. He was happy to see her again after two years of being away and living with her family.

He was hardly in any mood to say; "I miss him too," for he was completely understanding.

He was about to say something to her, something to alleviate her sadness, but he never got the chance because Mummy had already packed his lunch in a little bag on the countertop. He took and was about to go through the door when Mummy's voice stopped him.

"And be sure to feed the horses when you come home," she said.

This was one adult command that Ralph genuinely liked. All the other rules from school to home and elsewhere were so restrictive that he got tired of it and he wished he would be somewhere with no grown-ups telling him what to do.

"Yes, Mummy," he said and left.

Ralph didn't leave without a handful of sugar cubes though. He walked over to the fence that bordered his cottage from the wild pones. Nearby was a shed that served as a workshop for his father, whenever he repaired his own weapons. Ralph was just about the right age to own a gun, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to hunt with it just yet. He left the sugar cubes by the wall and if it were magic, the ponies would have appeared out of nowhere. Sure enough, they were ridding up towards him in a gallant march. Because they were wild, they all wanted to go first in line.

Leaving them to their quarrel over foods, Ralph quickly boarded the single decker bus to school.

The Bishop Wordsworth Grammar School for Boys was a fine school indeed, with a courtyard for playing, dozens of halls and a library. Ralph came here every Monday to Friday, being taught in subjects like anatomy, geography where he learned about the South Sea Islands, math, biology and Latin. Almost every day, he could hear the choir boys, who also went to the school, singing "Kyrie Eleison" in the nearby Salisbury Cathedral. At lunch, he would chat with some of his classmates like Leslie, Neville, Piers, Donald, Douglas, Rupert and Robin. They talked of usual things like what their fathers did, new books, what movies were playing at the cinema, and the bores of homework.

By the end of the day, Ralph was feeling completely drained. He felt as if he'd started the day a hundred hours ago. The one class of the day that stood out to him was geography. In all the twelve years of his life, he had never really left England apart from a trip around the coast on his father's ship and a holiday to the Isle of Wright with his mother. He thought of visiting places he read about in books, like America, who was fighting against the Reds or even the beautiful shores of Italy.

Ralph could think of lots of places he would rather be than school, like the school library. It was a place to escape, a place to be in touch with his inner peace. During free periods, he would go to this library and retreat into the many books it had to offer. On a day when it seemed the rain would never stop, Ralph walked around the small but modest library, admiring the titles in the adventure section, such as Pippi Longstocking, who also had a seafaring father (probably the only "girl book" he ever liked) or Robinson Crusoe. His most favorite book of all was The Coral Island, probably because it's protagonist Ralph Rover was named after him. He showed some of them to his friends. To him, they were stories, but he wasn't satisfied with just reading them. Ralph wanted more. He wanted to have an adventure. He wanted to run along the beach, dance, drink coconuts and soak up the sun. When the sun peaked through the story sky, Ralph sat down on the wall, held the book close to his heart and smiled lovingly at the prospect.

As he looked admiringly into the illustrations, Ralph made a wish that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"I wish I could be shipwrecked on a deserted island like these boys."


The next days remained true to the maxim: "be careful what you wish for" and without him realising it, Ralph's dream was coming true. The following day, his friends were listening to the radio in the lunch hall. Today's news was looking grim: Britain, France, Germany and all the other countries that made up NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization), were joining the United States in the conflict. Because of this, England was now a target for the Reds. The reporter for BBC 4 also mentioned that children would be evacuated to neutral countries like Australia or New Zealand, having more than enough room for England's populace, even though such things would risk overpopulating the areas, which meant rationing food and finding room, but Ralph couldn't care much, being evacuated meant that he would finally be going on an adventure. He was excited to tell Mummy the whole news.

Ralph could hardly remember what he even studied that day, because all he could think about was going to see the world. Oddly, he had excelled in geography class and he had the grade to prove it. The headmaster, Mr. Golding, addressed everyone in the dining hall with the news that they were to be evacuated to Australia tomorrow on the Bristol Aeroplane Company's state-of-the-art passenger airliner, the Brabazon-III, or the Brab for short. They would be leaving from Thruxton Aerodrome. With his class dismissed, he checked out the library's copy of The Coral Island, took the bus back home and ran straight inside.

"Mummy, did you hear the news? I'm going away! We're all being evacuated to Australia!"

The grim look on her face told him that she heard the news for herself. It was also at that point she understood his excitement, because she smiled and gave him a hug.

"I wish I could come with you, but it's children first."

Ralph's excitement fell.

"You mean you're not coming with me?"

"No, dear. I have to stay and see if there's for work for me in this war. But I promise you, we will be together again soon."

Ralph hugged her tightly.

"I really want you to come," he said, his face muffled in her shirt.

He was only a baby during the last war and his mother had been evacuated to this particular area in the country while she was pregnant with him.

"So would I, but you have your friends, so at least you will never be alone."

Reassured by this, Ralph returned to his room and packed his trunk.


Tomorrow was the very day Ralph had been anticipating for hours, the day he would finally go out to see the world. As it was the custom to be identified by one's school, he had to wear his school uniform, he packed some other clothes just in case they still had weekends off. He also packed a comb, a toothbrush and the library's copy of The Coral Island. Mummy gave him ten quid to buy something at the aerodrome. Then she gave him a kiss on the cheek. Ralph still wanted Mummy to go with him, but she repeated her reasons why from yesterday. When they stood outside and saw the bus pull up, Ralph gave his mother another hug and ran to join his classmates on the bus.

It was a long drive to Thruxton Aerodrome, but Ralph and the others spent the time talknig about what they were goign to do in Australia.

"I'd like to see the Aboriginales," said Donald.

"And go to the opera house," added Douglas. "Mummy and Daddy went there once before I was born."

The bus was also occupied by some younger children and the choir from Salisbury Cathedral dressed in their black caps and long togs. They were singing "Will Ye No Come Back Again" and "We'll Meet Again." Ralph wished he could sing as good as them.

The Thruxton Aerodrome was not as big as Heathrow, but it was big enough to hold the latest in aviation technology like the Brab-III. Ralph and his classmates stepped out of the bus and went inside where they stood at the very of the line with the other students. Their host, a man with a commanding air, had already given them boarding passes just the previous day before school was dismissed and they were to present them before they boarded the plane. Ralph held his in his hands, holding it lightly. Even with the man blasting orders from his megaphone, Ralph was so busy thinking of the many places he was going to see that, while en route to the plane, he dropped it and scattered around looking for it. The line was getting smaller and smaller and it was close to being his turn to leave the building. When he noticed this, he began to panic. His dreams of seeing the world and staying behind over a silly pass were beginning to crash down upon him, breaking his mental composure. He would have screamed if not for one little boy who came up to him with it.

"You dropped it," said the boy.

"Thanks," smiled Ralph, his feelings suddenly alleviating.

Ralph didn't know it at the time, but the boy's name was Percival Whemys Madison.


The Brab-III, sitting in front of it's hangar, was unlike any plane Ralph had ever seen, inside or out. She was shaped like a like bullet, as long as a luxury superyacht and taller than his school building. The interior was the ultimate in safety and comfort, a grand hotel with wings to put it lightly. It was fitted with ten sleeping berths on the upper deck with ten more on the bottom deck that could also be arraigned for day and night travel, a powder room for ladies, a center salon where passengers could eat and chat and read, a lounge and cocktail bar and a cinema all the way at the end. Should the plane ever encounter disaster, a lever would be pulled down to release the passenger tube, which was detachable in the middle, then a parachute would open and the tube would float gently down to Earth. Ralph, feeling very safe indeed, presented his boarding pass to the ticket officer and raced up the ramp to see it's luxurious amenities. He was amazed by what he saw, checking out every detail that made the Brab-III one of the most luxurious planes in the world. He even wanted a drink, but the bartender told him that he would have to wait until he was 18. In addition to the bartender, the plane was staffed with four stewardesses, a cook, a waiter and of course, the pilots.

The pilot, whose name was Captain Benson, instructed his passengers to take their seats and fasten their seatbelts, for they were due to leave at any moment. When the clock struck the hour, the plane's four Centaurus engines sputtered and sprung to life. The wheels began to inch forward, then moved with ease. The roll out to the runway was surprisingly quick, but to ralph, it felt longer. He couldn't wait to leave British soil.

"Flight 54, you are cleared for takeoff," said man in the control tower.

"Roger," said Captain Benson.

The engine's speed turned from leisurely to rapid, and the silver steel body pushed forward, pulling itself up, and—after a few more seconds—finally broke free of gravity's grip and brought the bird of steel to the heavens. Ralph felt like floating as he looked back out the window to see the Aerodrome shrinking away.

"Bye, Mummy," he said for the last time.


It wasn't long before they were over the English Channel. To Ralph, it seemed better than just crossing the ocean by boat. This plane had all the luxury it needed. For the next hour, there was nothing but blue and lunch was served promptly at noon. Ralph ordered some water and a chicken sandwich. He ate it all down in huge bites, and washed it down with his glass of water. He had to admit that the meal was all too delicious to last. After that, he went to his cabin for private reading. Since there was no one else to share it with, Ralph had the cabin all to himself. It was already fitted with a bed, and it was pretty comfortable. When he laid on the bed for the first time, he had but little difficulty in falling asleep.

He woke up around the middle of late afternoon when he saw the lights of The City of Love herself, Paris shining from below his window. The Eiffel Tower was only something he had seen in a book about the country, and it was much smaller than Ralph had ever imagined. He was both amazed, disappointed and uncaring of how high they were in the air. The tower looked like a toy. Maybe if the plane landed, he could stop, get off and see it for himself. Luckily, the plane landed Charles de Gaulle airport for refueling. It would fly tomorrow, as under these wartime conditions, flying at night was too risky. Ralph thought it a good chance to explore the rest of the city, but the passengers had to stay put. So, he sat in his cabin, wishing to write a letter back to his mother, but he thought it best to wait until he reached Australia.

The next morning, the Brab-III was refueled and by 6:30 a.m., it was off to Spain. Specifically, Gibraltar. They landed at an RAF friendly base close to the famous Rock of Gibraltar. This time, the boys were allowed to walk out the plane and take in the fresh air, but they could not go into town, not even to buy sweets or toys or books. The plane was much safer. During their walk around the airport, Ralph had noticed that one of the choir boys, specifically, a small Indo-British with black hair, had fainted. The other choir boys laughed callously before carrying him back into the plane. Being young, Ralph was confused. How could such good singers be such horrible people? Maybe people had a lot of both. He went back to his cabin and had lunch in the center salon with Leslie and Piers.

"Do you think they'll have girls there?" asked Piers.

"Of course," said Leslie.

"You know I don't care much for girls," muttered Ralph as he picked at his salad. "But I suppose one wouldn't hurt to be friends with."

He ate another bite before asking.

"Do you wish we could stay and see the rest of this place? Spain looks so lovely."

"So will the land down under," smiled Leslie.

The following day it was time to leave for Addis Ababa in Ethiopia, Africa. There were no tall buildings, but the town was bustling in activity. Again, while they were walking, the choir boy fainted. Ralph, meanwhile, was looking out into the city from the windows of the plane, longing to see more. Perhaps he could have gone on a safari to see all the animals. Lions, tigers, elephants, warthogs, you name it. If his daddy was here, the two of them would be racing the cheetahs, together, in the fields. Fields that he could only see from his windows. He could hardly see any at the airport they had landed at. It was probably the first time he ever saw a large number of negros, offering their shares to the world of high estate.

The very next day, the plane landed at Mumbai International Airport in Bombay, India, and again, they could only walk out as far as the airport. Ralph was beginning to wonder if this trip was worth it, war or no war. Even so, he would have gladly walked his way into a restaurant and ordered something with whatever money had taken for the trip the meals onboard the plane were good enough to last. Ralph also wanted to see the Taj Mahal and many other places associated with Aladdin and Sinbad that he read about in his books, but there was absolutely no time to spare. Safety and sticking together like glue were a top priority.

Finally, in the early hours of the morning, the plane made one more stop in Thailand and then it was further on to their final destination: Syndey's Kingston Airport. Ralph was very sorry to it go by that fast. He wanted to see the ancient palace where the king and queens lived. But by now, he had gotten used to it. There would be places to see in Sydney, at least until his mother would be able to join him since he was much too young to drive a car. At their current altitude of 50,000 feet, they would arrive in Sydney in about two or three hours, then they would head to a hotel or shelter or evacuated persons. Ralph could only imagine that the shelter or wherever he was going to stay had to be nice, and maybe when his parents would come to visit him, they would do plenty of things together. Ralph was so lost in these happy thoughts that barely heard the announcement of an atomic bomb being dropped on his home country.

"Did he say something?" he asked Piers.

"I dunno," Piers said. "I wasn't really listening."

Ralph resumed gazing out of the window again and started to look forward to Sydney.


About 30 minutes later, when the plane crossed over the Banda Sea, dark clouds of blackening grey were starting to fill the sky. The boys quivered and so did Ralph.

"I think we might be in for some weather," came the slow voice of a chubby boy with glasses.

Sure enough, the first raindrop was pelted against Ralph's window. A low rumble suffused the space, the sound of thunder no doubt. Lightning flashed, bolts of them bouncing off the clouds. The boys were fascinated. They had never even seen a storm like this.

But in the cabin, Captain Benson had his eyes focuses on trying to keep his vision clear, for up ahead was a monstrous cloud of black ink. For a moment, he thought he heard something behind it but dismissed it as thunder. He sat back in his seat and gave sigh as he prayed that passing through this cloud was a success. He checked his radar; there seemed to be no other planes in sight. So he went on ahead, through the cloud.

Things were quiet for a while, nothing but a screen of darkness that would have frightened his young passengers. Then, a clearing.

Out of nowhere was a nasty surprise that awaited the precious plane. Jet planes, little fighters of made of steel, were zooming around the area. An air battle was taking place.

The surface of the water down below came alive with wakes from ships and these ships, small but easily recognizable, were battleships. They were firing their anti-aircraft guns at the freighters.

Matters were spinning out of control, and if the plane were to be hit, there would be no immediate information of their ultimate fate. Captain Benson's nostrils were beginning to seize up, his arms moving more sluggishly as he stared, uncertain of what to do.

The bullets from the fighter planes swept out, flying all around the Brab-III, but never hitting it. A small missile exploded on one side, and the Brab-III began to falter, almost falling from the force of the explosion. Captain Benson tried to regain control, his arms moving fast and his hands gripping the yolk, but there was no smooth sailing now, no certainty. Instead, they were moving left and right as though being pulled by a boy on a wagon string.

Suddenly another missile shot out from one of the enemy planes and burst into flames and smoke above the roof. It's remains missed the plane entirely and feel into the sea below. To his horror, Benson saw various other pieces of jet planes bending and exploding, either side meet a grim fate.

"Everyone buckle up!" he called to his compliment. "This is going to be a wild ride."

The speed and brightness of the anti-aircraft explosions formed dazzling sparkles in the air. They zipped and surged, but stayed safely away from the plane. However, they were starting to become more volatile and dangerously close. The plane was moving faster than before, and it wasn't staying quite so much in a straight position. Instead, it was swinging back and forth to avoid being hit.

Captain Benson began to sweat as an enemy jet fighter swept almost dangerously close to the nose of his plane, which was exactly the kind of potential calamity he needed to avoid. Like a sea captain in the middle of a lightning storm, he kept the plane in constant motion, flailing left and right as enemy fire zipped past. Behind him, he could almost hear his young compliment yelling and crying for their parents.

The boys were no longer looking on in awe. Now there was concern, mixed with fear, many of them flinching back and shielding their eyes from the explosions in the outside world.

Daddy'll take care of them, smiled Ralph as he looked down at the battleships below.

However, his smile vanished as he spotted a missile hurtling towards the plane, its origin unmistakably identified by what appeared to be the red star of the USSR emblazoned with a hammer and sickle on it's side. It moved closer and closer...

The strike came in no less than a second later.

The engine exploded, rocking everybody inside and immediately setting panic within passenger cabin with the other boys screaming as the cabin rocked violently.

The plane slowly descended through the air, then faster and faster at an alarming rate. Ralph felt like he was going down on a roller coaster ride. The rest of his fellow passengers screamed that they were going to throw up and then die. Others cried for their mummies and daddies and wished they never left home. But all at once, he felt a lurch then then something dragging out of the passenger tube before he hit his head on the back of his seat and drifted into sleep.


He was awakened about an hour later. He looked around and could find no one else in the cabin. Whatever impact he felt caused the seats to be disorganized and the windows to be cracked. All the adults, unbeknownst to him, had been killed because they were not wearing seatbelts. But he was sure that someone, maybe two, had to be still alive. At first he was groggy, and it was difficult for him to walk, but after some struggle with both standing and trying to unbuckle his seatbelt, he stood up. After that, he walked down the corridor to search for the emergency exit. Finding it, he opened the door and a blaze of tropical color greeted him. There were green palm trees, yellow birds singing, bright red berries and a chocolate brown scar that seemed to stretch up to the other side of this place.

"Is this Australia?" Ralph thought to himself as he stepped off the plane.

He discovered a massive rock that loomed over the forest, and it was also easy to climb. Reaching the summit, he stood there, gazing joyfully at the stunning expanse of land before him. With both hands on his hips and a smile on his face, Ralph shouted out loud.

"I must be on the Coral Island!"