Commended – Junior section
St Mary’s College
The salty wind blows my hair into a dizzy whirlwind as I step up on deck. I push it out of my eyes and look towards the Cape Pillar cliffs. They stretch up so high, with a thin layer of bushes hanging on for dear life at the top. The wind blows, zig-zagging through the thin sticks of rock. A lone sea lion barks, the sound echoing along the cliff face and into the dripping caves. I turn and look around Juliet; to her mast, with the tied-up sails flapping; her wind turbine whirling; her faded cushions, with dried salt patches sitting in the cock-pit; and the windows, all fogged up from our breath.
I hear light footsteps and turn to see my younger sister Layla rubbing her eyes sleepily as she joins me.
“Morning Ella,” she says and huddles closer to my warmth.
“Hey Kiddo,” I smile at her and she grins back. I hear heavier footfalls, someone bigger and more confident. Grandpa clomps up the stairs muttering something about sleep.
“Morning girls! How’d you sleep?” He continues without waiting for an answer, “We’d better be off. That wind’s picking up. If we hoist the sails, we’ll soon be on our way.” Grandpa squeezes us and heads to the front of the yacht. Nanny and Dad come up too, pulling on the thick, patchwork coats that Nan made.
“Morning,” I say, hugging them, “Where’s Mum?” Normally she’s the one that comes up first, trying to catch the early morning rays in a snapshot. Mum’s a photographer and she takes pictures every day. Dad shrugs. “Dunno, probably on the loo. She’s not in bed anymore.” I nod, then wander to Grandpa, who is on the bow pressing the binoculars to his eyes.
“Look Ella!” He points, “Sea eagle! Look at her soar …”
Nanny comes up and taps Grandpa on the arm. “You’re the one who wanted to leave, so let’s get on with it,” she orders. Grandpa rolls his eyes and I giggle. Nanny begins to pull up the anchor. When it’s lying on deck, she calls, “Hey everyone, look who’s visited us! I wonder what type he is.” Mum comes upstairs as we go over to see. I squat down to take a closer look at the thing curled around the anchor like seaweed.
It’s a seahorse. A tiny, brown and yellow seahorse. He’s curled up around the cold metal and I swear he’s shaking.
“We need to get him back in the ocean before it’s too late! And we also can’t take him away from his home, poor love” says Nanny.
“I’m going to steer us away from those cliffs. Is it just me, or do they seem to be getting closer?” Grandpa goes to the wheel and starts motoring Juliet away from the cliffs. The wind slaps me across the face, and I suddenly realise how strongly it’s blowing.
“Susan!” Grandpa shouts and I hear a slight tone of panic in his voice. “Hold on to the rails up there! The wind’s getting stronger and I don’t want you to fall off! You too girls!” We grasp the rails and hold on for dear life as Juliet rocks, being tossed around like a doll in the wash. Mum climbs downstairs to lay on the couch.
“Jenny?” Nanny shouts, “Feeling seasick? Lie down for a while, it should help!” Sometimes Mum feels seasick when the wind is blowing strong. Sleeping helps calm her tummy for a while. The wind howls, whistling through the mast like an angry bird. Layla gasps, as Juliet rocks violently, and quickly goes downstairs to lie beside Mum. I feel like doing the same, but I stay because I know the seahorse needs me more. I stumble and quickly grab hold of the railing again.
“Hold on Ella! Please hold on. I don’t want you to fall. These waters can be dangerous in this weather,” Nanny cries. All the while the wind blows as strongly as ever, pushing Juliet around the dipping and rising waves.
“You’ll be ok,” I murmur to it. One hand’s fingers are crossed behind my back for support.
My other hand grips the rails with a fist of iron. Nanny’s knuckles are white she’s grasping the railing so hard. Nanny turns to Grandpa.
“Brian? Can you stop somewhere more sheltered than here? We need to let the seahorse go!” she yells. Grandpa nods.
“Sure. There’s a sheltered cove somewhere around here on the left. Keep your eyes open. I can’t see through the sea-spray very well. Hang in there little guy, just for a few more minutes while I stop,” he hollered to the seahorse. I’ve called the seahorse Hippo after the scientific name hippocampus. After what seems like hours, Grandpa stops Juliet in a sheltered bay away from the cliffs and turns off the motor.
. . .
The whole family gathers around as I gently pry Hippo off the anchor. I lay down on deck and carefully drop him into the sea. As Hippo slowly swims down into the inky depths, I wave and say, “Farewell Hippo, my beautiful seahorse. Good luck in the future. I hope you’ll be happy and you find your home. Bye Hippo.”
Everyone watches as he disappears.
“Well done Ella,” says Grandpa hugging me. “And Susan of course,” he adds hastily as Nanny glares. Everyone claps and we bow.
Soon, we’re all rugged up in woolly blankets and spare jumpers. There’s still wind, but it’s only a breeze now. Nanny bustles about in the kitchen making everyone tea. Layla and Mum still look a bit seasick, but they’re ok. Nanny comes up from the kitchen and hands out tea. I sip mine thoughtfully and think about Hippo. Nanny deals out a pack of cards so we play Go Fish. Soon I’m lost in the game and forget about Hippo.
That night I dream of a seahorse, a brown and yellow seahorse – a happy seahorse.
