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Excerpt: Nim's Island
In a palm tree, on an island, in the middle of the wide blue sea, was a
girl.
Nim's hair was wild, her eyes were bright, and around her neck she wore
three cords. One was for a spyglass, one for a whirly, whistling shell and
the other a fat red pocket knife in a sheath.
With the spyglass at her eye, she watched her father's boat. It sailed out
through the reef to the deeper dark ocean and Jack turned to wave, and Nim
waved back though she knew he couldn't see.
Then the white sails caught the wind and blew him out of sight, and Nim was
alone. For three days and three nights, whatever happened or needed doing,
Nim would do it.
'And what we need first,' said Nim, 'is breakfast!' So she threw four ripe
coconuts thump! into the sand, and climbed down after them.
Then she whistled her shell, two long shrill notes that carried far out to
the reef where the sea lions were fishing. Selkie popped her head above the
water. She had a fish in her mouth, but she swallowed it fast and dived
towards the beach.
And from a rock by the hut, Fred came scuttling. Fred was an iguana, spiky
as a dragon with a cheerful snub nose, and he twined round Nim's feet in a
prickly hug.
'Are you saying Good morning?' Nim demanded, 'or just begging for
breakfast?'
Fred stared at the coconuts. He was a very honest iguana.
Coconuts are tricky to open, but Nim was an expert. With a rock and a spike,
she punched a hole and drank the juice; cracked the shell and pried out the
nut. Fred snatched his piece and gulped it down.
Marine iguanas don't eat coconut, but no one had ever told Fred.
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