The Skipper nodded as Jack explained that he would now attempt the replenishing of the main tank. He carefully climbed from his seat next the Skipper, and had only just started to squeeze up into the space between the top wing and the tank when he stopped with a start. Peering at him over the top of the tank was Kiwi, with a self-conscious smile on his face.
The Skipper partly turned to see why Jack had dropped back into his seat. Jack clutched the Skipper’s shoulder, leaned over and shouted:
“Cripes! The Kiwi’s with us!”
For a few seconds none of the three moved. The Skipper was plainly unbelieving. He thought that Jack must be dreaming. Coming out of his trance, Jack motioned to Kiwi to come forward.
Kiwi wiggled his way over the tank, still wondering how he would be received. He shyly put one hand forward and grasped Dad’s shoulder with as hard a squeeze as he could muster.
Dad realized then that Kiwi’s presence was an actual fact. Here was a stowaway, another life that must be reckoned with in this adventure. He would have preferred not having this additional responsibility. There had been enough details to think about. But there was nothing that could be done, and his plans must be adjusted to cover this new situation.
Kiwi could only say in a shy voice, “I can help, Dad. And I didn’t want you to go without me.”
Jack slipped back into his seat, put on his earphones, and sent out Connors’ call letter. As soon as he got an answer, he clicked off a message that the Kiwi was aboard, a stowaway, and that he would be put on the usual bread and water diet of all stowaways and made to work.
The Skipper then said to Jack, “Here’s your helper for the gas.”