Kijana by Jesse Martin Read Free Book Online Page A

round the south-east corner of the Australian mainland and start on our northward course. Although the wind was becoming increasingly fickle, I estimated we were only four days’ sailing from Sydney, where we had an appointment with the National Maritime Museum for another media launch to drum up more publicity for our sponsors. Josh was also having problems linking the computer to the satellite phone, which was preventing us from emailing, so we were keen to get to shore so that Telstra could help Josh work it out.
    The wind continued to die, forcing us to fire up the motor so we could make Sydney on time. The day before we arrived, Kijana was visited by its first pod of dolphins. Aboard Lionheart I’d got so used to dolphins that I forgot what a thrill it was to see them. In a mad rush, and amid screams of delight, everyone rushed to the bow to see them playing in front of the boat. Josh headed in the opposite direction, grabbing the camera, like a good cameraman should, before joining us.
    We got to Sydney in time for a series of public engagements and got the email system working. Beau got his hands on a bike pump for the stove, while Dad drove up to help with more last-minute jobs on the boat. Most of the office crew were also on hand to organise interviews with the Sydney media.
    After two weeks in port, we were ready to set sail again. Our departure felt even more crazy than when we had left Melbourne. As we were heading direct to Papua New Guinea from Sydney, Customs came down to the boat and stamped everyone’s passport amid a frenzy of further media interviews. The call had gone out to yacht clubs to escort us out of Port Jackson. I counted at least 30 boats as we motored to the heads.
    It was all a bit overpowering and confusing. We’d already said goodbye in Melbourne and there we were doing it all over again, complete with all the emotions. It affected Nicolette the most. With so many people swarming around her, all the attention took its toll as we sailed towards the open sea.
    She sobbed as she spoke to her mother over the satellite phone with helicopters buzzing overhead and foghorns blasting in the background. Despite her discomfort, we knew it needed to be filmed. If we were going to make documentaries they had to show the truth of what happened on Kijana . That meant capturing the intimate moments we would not normally share with the outside world.
    Within an hour we were at the heads, accompanied by only one boat. As soon as we entered the Pacific Ocean, the wind died down until it seemed we weren’t even moving. Our solitary companion bid us farewell and turned back, revving its motors and leaving a trail of white water away from us.
    On board Kijana the only signs of movement came from the clang of the rigging against the mast and the smallest of ripples that showed we were making some progress. What we needed was a strong wind to get us out of there.
    The mood on board was one of melancholy. Beau read some letters from friends, Mika sat at the wheel with headphones on listening to music, Nicolette leant up against the mizzen (rear sail) mast staring out to the cliffs along the coast. Quiet tears rolled down her bright red cheeks.
    But Josh’s reaction shocked me the most. He was the one we could rely on to make a silly comment and snap us out of our mood. Yet, he too sat uncharacteristically quietly, mulling over his thoughts. I walked along the deck to where Josh was lying with his T-shirt covering his face. When he saw me with the camera he gave a look as if to say ‘please, not now’. But he knew the rules and smiled reluctantly.
    â€˜What’s going on?’ I asked.
    He took a few moments, his eyes red from tears, and looked straight ahead at the bright blue sky, as if it would provide the answer. ‘I dunno,’ he said. ‘It’s ... just ... sad.’
    I knew exactly what he meant, but I couldn’t explain it in any better way.
    There we were,