‘You’ll get your money.’
‘I got the other five to pay off as well,’ the fisherman said, pointing down the beach.
About a hundred yards down, on the water’s edge, five black-skinned almost naked men were standing beside a second boat. ‘All six of us are in on this, equal shares,’ the fisherman went on. ‘I can’t let him go till we got the money.’
‘I guarantee you’ll get it,’ the manager said. ‘Isn’t that good enough for you?’
‘I’ll underwrite that guarantee,’ the father of the boy said, stepping forward. ‘And there’ll be an extra bonus for all six of the fishermen just as long as you let him go at once. I mean immediately, this instant.’
The fisherman looked at the father. Then he looked at the manager. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘If that’s the way you want it.’
‘There’s one condition,’ the father said. ‘Before you get your money, you must promise you won’t go straight out and try to catch him again. Not this evening, anyway. Is that understood?’
‘Sure,’ the fisherman said. ‘That’s a deal.’ He turned and ran down the beach, calling to the other five fishermen. He shouted something to them that we couldn’t hear, and in a minute or two, all six of them came back together. Five of them were carrying long thick wooden poles.
The boy was still kneeling beside the turtle’s head. ‘David,’ the father said to him gently. ‘It’s all right now, David. They’re going to let him go.’
The boy looked round, but he didn’t take his arms from around the turtle’s neck, and he didn’t get up. ‘When?’ he asked.
‘Now,’ the father said. ‘Right now. So you’d better come away.’
‘You promise?’ the boy said.
‘Yes, David, I promise.’
The boy withdrew his arms. He got to his feet. He stepped back a few paces.
‘Stand back everyone!’ shouted the fisherman called Willy. ‘Stand right back everybody, please!’
The crowd moved a few yards up the beach. The tug-of-war men let go the rope and moved back with the others.
Willy got down on his hands and knees and crept very cautiously up to one side of the turtle. Then he began untying the knot in the rope. He kept well out of the range of the big flippers as he did this.
When the knot was untied, Willy crawled back. Then the five other fishermen stepped forward with their poles. The poles were about seven feet long and immensely thick. They wedged them underneath the shell of the turtle and began to rock the great creature from side to side on its shell. The shell had a high dome and was well shaped for rocking.
‘Up and down!’ sang the fishermen as they rocked away. ‘Up and down! Up and down! Up and down!’ The old turtle became thoroughly upset, and who could blame it? The big flippers lashed the air frantically, and the head kept shooting in and out of the shell.
‘Roll him over!’ sang the fishermen. ‘Up and over! Roll him over! One more time and over he goes!’
The turtle tilted high up on to its side and crashed down in the sand the right way up.
But it didn’t walk away at once. The huge brown head came out and peered cautiously around.
‘Go, turtle, go!’ the small boy called out. ‘Go back to the sea!’
The two hooded black eyes of the turtle peered up at the boy. The eyes were bright and lively, full of the wisdom of great age. The boy looked back at the turtle, and this time when he spoke, his voice was soft and intimate. ‘Good-bye, old man,’ he said. ‘Go far away this time.’ The black eyes remained resting on the boy for a few seconds more. Nobody moved. Then, with great dignity, the massive beast turned away and began waddling towards the edge of the ocean. He didn’t hurry. He moved sedately over the sandy beach, the big shell rocking gently from side to side as he went.