Joe found himself being thrown through the air. There was a screech of tyres and a sickening crunch of metal. Joe landed some distance away, his fall broken by scrubby plants. He lay there for a moment, winded, trying to make sense of what had happened. A bird was chirping somewhere close by, but otherwise it was strangely quiet – until he heard footsteps scrabbling towards him. He sat bolt upright, fear hitting him like a blast from a shotgun.
‘Are you all right, Joe?’ His friend was there, a trickle of blood running down his face from a cut above his eye.
Joe nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘We must run,’ Dario urged, pulling him to his feet.
The man shouted something incomprehensible and Joe saw their pursuer waving his fist at them.
‘Quick!’ said Dario. He shoved Joe in the direction of the woodland that lined the road.
Joe didn’t need to be told twice. He ran as fast as his legs would let him, until he reached the first line of trees and slowed to look round. The man must have set off after them, but had stopped and was making his way back to the wreckage on the road. Only then did Joe realise that after they had been thrown from their motorbike, the other motorbike had ploughed into it. It made him feel faint and he had to steady himself against the trunk of a tree. Dario stood beside him, breathing heavily, and Joe noticed that he had a deep gash in one of his shins.
‘You’re injured.’ Joe pointed at Dario’s leg.
‘Now they have time to get away,’ Dario said unhappily. ‘Now they can do it again.’
‘We did our best,’ replied Joe. We could have died! he realised.
They watched ruefully as the man struggled to separate the two motorbikes. Joe fiddled absent-mindedly with the strap of Dario’s rucksack and suddenly remembered what his father was always telling him: ‘One of the secrets of being a successful photographer is being ready to snap when the unexpected happens.’ He didn’t even know if his camera would still work after the treatment it had received, but it was worth a try.
Joe quickly removed the camera from the rucksack, pointed the lens at the man and took one shot after another. He even dared to creep a few steps closer, squatting down behind a bush, because he was worried the zoom might not be powerful enough for the photographs to be clear.
‘Now let’s go – quick,’ said Dario. ‘The village captain can still catch up with them.’
Joe put his camera away and hurried after Dario. As they raced along, he imagined how he would feel if it turned out that his camera contained the evidence to convict the rogues who were destroying the coral reef. That would be so cool!
Chapter 15
As luck would have it, when they felt safe enough to follow the road, a man from the village came by on his bike. Dario waved his arms, ran into the road and shouted at him to stop. He explained about the dynamite fishermen and begged the man to cycle on ahead of them, as fast as possible, to alert the people at the seahorse project to what had happened and to let them know that they were unharmed. The man agreed and set off again, pedalling earnestly. Joe was disappointed. He had been looking forward to breaking the news with Dario and seeing everyone’s reaction, but he understood that speed was of the essence if there were to be any chance of catching the men red-handed.
‘What do you think those men are doing now?’ he asked Dario.
‘They are not happy because those motorbikes will not work.’ He grinned at Joe.
‘They were a bit of a mess,’ Joe said soberly. ‘Is your head all right, and your leg?’
Dario looked down. ‘They will mend,’ he replied. ‘Those men not like to leave the fish behind. I think the village captain will catch them with the fish.’
Joe wished he could be there to watch, though a small part of him wanted the men to escape so that the evidence his camera held would be crucial. He was keen to tell his father about everything they had been through and how he had been ready to snap the unexpected. At the same time, he was worried about how his mother would react. She would be appalled that he had been in such danger – that he might have been killed. She would never want to let him out of her sight if she thought he was going to get himself into such trouble. He hoped he might be able to speak to Peter alone first and ask him to play the danger down to Binti.
‘What will your mother say when she sees you?’ he asked Dario.
Dario shrugged. ‘She knows I can look after myself.’
Joe was sure Dario wouldn’t tell his mother he nearly went under the wheels of a motorbike. She wouldn’t think he could look after himself if she knew that!
The rain was becoming torrential again. They could scarcely see ahead, but some lights were shining through the trees and Joe was delighted to discover they had arrived back at Handumon. A wave of relief almost overwhelmed him. He felt his knees buckling at the thought that in a few minutes he would be safe with his family and someone else would be taking charge. He had wanted adventure, but what they had experienced was almost an adventure too far and he was exhausted. It seemed like a lifetime ago that they had set out along the road to the mangrove forests.
‘Tired, Joe?’ Dario asked, as though able to read his thoughts.
Joe nodded.
‘I think you sleep like a baby tonight, and me too.’
They reached the staff house and entered the communal room. Everyone was gathered there. Joe could see from the look on Binti’s face that she had been worried stiff about him.
‘Two drowned rats!’ Peter exclaimed,
