Jimmy stared at the water far below. He closed his eyes. He thought of his mum and dad and granda, and his baldy headmaster and the bus driver falling off the dock and fighting with Claire and the thrill of producing his first newspaper. But after this he wanted to think some kind of big important thought before dying.
The meaning of life. God.
But the best he could come up with was:
I wonder if there's a McDonald's in heaven?
Or hell?
He wasn't even that big a fan of McDonald's, but he couldn't seem to get the thought out of his head.
All he could hear was the wind and the steady hum of the Titanic's engines. Even the chanting mutineers had fallen silent. They were, despite their drunkenness and their deadly weapons, just cleaners and cooks and tourists, and murder was new to them. Forcing a boy to walk the plank was a unique introduction to it. They had not really expected it to actually happen. They were certain the Captain would give in. Or that Pedroza would show mercy. But neither was prepared to give an inch. And it was just exactly an inch that now separated Jimmy from death.
He wasn't, however, going to give Pedroza the satisfaction of pushing him. If he was going to go, he was going to jump.
And now, he couldn't put it off any longer.
Jimmy took a deep breath, then stepped . . .
'Stop!'
Jimmy hovered on the very edge. Even the motion involved in looking round might have caused him to overbalance and fall.
All he knew was that it wasn't the Captain's voice — or Pedroza's.
'Step back, Jimmy!'
He recognized it now.
Jimmy turned very, very, very slowly, and saw that Dr Hill had pushed through the crowd of mutineers and had managed to get as far as the security rail. The mutineers would certainly have restrained him, if it hadn't been for the large red blotches that were clearly visible on his face and hands.
Pedroza scowled at him. 'Who do you think— ?'
'Listen to me! Both of you!' Dr Hill pointed at Pedroza, then Captain Smith. 'You can't allow this to happen!'
'You, sir, are out of order!' Captain Smith growled back.
'He will jump or I will throw him!' Pedroza declared.
'No — wait. Please . . . you don't understand. Jimmy — he has a cure for the plague!'
This set the watching crowd to murmuring.
Pedroza's eyes narrowed. 'What are you talking about? What cure?'
'I swear! He brought it back from the island! We injected some of the infected with it . . . and I've just been up to see them and they're . . . damn it, man, they're starting to recover! There is a cure for this plague!'
But Pedroza wasn't easily swayed. 'You lie!' he cried. 'Nothing can—'
'Look!' shouted Dr Hill. He pointed through the crowd. They turned, and Jimmy saw what they saw, standing a little way across the deck.
'Claire,' Jimmy whispered.
She looked desperately thin and pale and unsteady, but she was standing unsupported, and the enflamed red blotches which had covered her were now grey and fading.
'She was dying half an hour ago, and now look at her! There's a dozen more like her! Don't you see what this means? We can all live through this!'
The mutineers began to jabber excitedly amongst themselves — only Captain Smith and Pedroza seemed untouched by this revelation.
Pedroza called for quiet, and his men immediately fell silent. 'This . . . this is good . . . if it's true. Maybe it's just an attempt to save this rat's life. Well, it won't work. Captain Smith still refuses to pilot the ship, so the boy must die.'
He turned back towards Jimmy, who had allowed himself a brief moment of hope. 'Now you must . . .' Pedroza indicated the end of the sunbed, and made a little fluttering sign with his hands.
'No!' cried Dr Hill. Pedroza turned impatiently. 'You don't understand! There isn't enough medicine for everyone! But if we return to the island we can make more, and only Jimmy knows where to find it!'
Pedroza shook his head. 'There was another sailor with him.'
'He collapsed soon after coming back on board — he has it as well. Only Jimmy knows.'
Pedroza stared at Dr Hill. Then he slowly pulled up his sleeve. 'It will cure this?' There was a small red blotch, halfway up his arm. Dr Hill nodded. 'Then whoever owns the cure, owns the world.'
Pedroza smiled. He turned to Captain Smith. 'Even you, Captain, cannot refuse to do this if it will save the lives of your precious passengers.'
But the Captain was stubborn. 'My orders are to continue the—'
'Your orders are changed!' It was a new voice. Mr Stanford had appeared beside his daugter. He looked even weaker than Claire, but his eyes blazed with determination. 'We must find the source of this medicine, Captain, and save ourselves. We can worry about the rest later!'
Captain Smith nodded slowly. 'If you're absolutely certain, sir.' He turned to Pedroza. 'Very well. I will take her to port, Mr Pedroza, in the interests of my passengers and crew. But be warned. This ship will be mine again.'
Their eyes locked for fully ten seconds before Captain Smith brushed past him and strode back towards the bridge.
***
Claire said, 'You saved my life.'
'Nah.'
'You did. You really did.'
'I just happened to be passing by.'
'It was weird, because I was unconscious, but I was dreaming all these crazy things. I dreamed you came in and started talking about my big bum.'
'I wouldn't do that,' said Jimmy.
'I know you wouldn't,' said Claire, and she kissed him.
It was quite unexpected. Right on the lips. Jimmy didn't know where to look or what to say. His face became very red indeed.
'D-d-don't. . . .' he stammered. 'You're probably still infected, it might wear off in a few minutes . . . just. . . don't. . .'
She bent in to kiss him again. He ducked away. 'What are you scared of, Jimmy?' Claire asked, laughing.
'You,' said Jimmy.