Strange Tide Read Online Free

anxious, ever since they were children. ‘They know boats like this come over and wait to be rescued. What if—’
    â€˜If you’re so worried why don’t you just jump overboard and swim home?’ Ali snapped, worn down by his friend’s fears. ‘We both chose this. There’s no going back and nothing we can do, so there’s no point in complaining now.’
    Ismael knew that his friend was right. They were closer than brothers, having spent their entire lives together, playing outside Ismael’s father’s camera shop, going to watch football matches in the stadium that was now used for public executions. Ali had always been the showman, the silvered-tongued charmer, the one with drive and brains and ambition. Ismael had been happy to walk in his shadow. They were family to each other. But there were few loyalties left behind them now, only fear and suspicion, and as the West hardened against them in uncaring ignorance it was time for everyone to help themselves and get out while they could.
    â€˜Besides,’ said Ali, ‘your brother made it, didn’t he? You must have the same strength.’
    â€˜Zakaria left seven years ago,’ said Ismael. ‘He promised to send money. There has been no word from him in the last four years. He is dead to me.’
    â€˜You can’t say that. You share his blood.’
    â€˜Then if I’m of his blood why wouldn’t he help us? Why didn’t he get in touch?’
    Ali had no answer for this, and stayed silent. By his reckoning they had now been in the boat for forty-two hours. They had no food left and very little water. There was still no sign of land.
    He looked between the supine figures hugging their sacks of meagre belongings. The yellow rubber raft lay just ahead of them, under the bench, unnoticed. The darker-skinned Africans had been forced to pay more for the trip, and were stowed below deck. No one had seen them since they were transferred on board.
    Just before dusk the weather suddenly changed. Where the sea had been aquamarine glass it was now opaque and stippled, then black and swelling. The wind rose and cloud cover swept in with the speed of someone unrolling a carpet across the sky. There were no moans of fear from the almost two hundred souls within the boat, only an unnerving silence and stillness as the passengers grimly clamped their jaws and waited for the storm to pass.
    No rain came, which Ali knew was good because the clear air kept them visible. As the night descended once more, he raised his head and searched the horizon for the lights of Lampedusa. If they made it there, they could get to Sicily and the mainland beyond. He feared that the few older ones on board would not have the strength to make the journey.
    The boat began to creak alarmingly, as if it was trying to pull itself in different directions. The sea looked like a great table that someone was trying to tip over, first this way, then that. As they pitched and rolled to steeper degrees, the refugees started to stir and then scream. A sudden commotion exploded near the bow. The vessel was taking on water. Ali tried to stand and see what was happening, but was thrown to the deck.
    â€˜What’s going on?’ asked Ismael. ‘Are we near the shore?’
    â€˜I don’t think so. They’ve seen something. Maybe another boat.’ He slapped his friend’s shoulder. ‘Mare Nostrum.’
    The Mare Nostrum project had been set up to provide air-sea rescue for refugees, and to halt human trafficking from mother ships in the waters around Sicily.
    The Eritreans and Somalis were sitting separately from the Syrians and Libyans, and now an argument broke out. The mate shouted a warning at them.
    â€˜They’re saying it’s a naval vessel,’ Ali confirmed. ‘Somewhere over there.’ They both tried to rise and search for lights but the storm-swell forced them to wait for a view.
    â€˜There, to