He hid behind the tar barrel waiting for the sailor to move, time was short but if he went now he would definitely give his position away, so he sat, huddled, waiting.
There seemed to be some discussion about the theft but the facts that Toby could overhear didn’t worry him. They were thin on the ground and they definitely didn’t know he was aboard. The two sailors finally departed, Toby had his chance.
He crawled out from behind the barrel and crossed the deck, making sure to avoid the ropes and the wooden board, that looked as if might squeal and give his position away. He paused by the mast, double checked the last few meters and scrabbled to the ladder. Swiftly he spun around and climbed down, as he got close to the water he gave one last look back to the deck, no one, then slid into the water.

After six or seven strokes he was clear, he had to swim fast, but not make any sound, he kept his body low, deep in the water, taking long strokes praying the morning sun would not reveal him.
Finally he pulled himself up the pebbled beach and ran towards the undergrowth. He felt his pocket, it was still there. He let our a small cry of happiness, smiled and vanished into the olive grove.


