Our Price: AUD$29.95 (USD$)* ISBN: 978-1-921456-07-7 Subject: General Fiction Publication Date: December 2008

Synopsis
A disenchanted sailor disappearing into a storm; a body in a ravaged harbour town; a journalist and a maritime officer changing each other's lives, and a Chinese junk on a mission. Aboard: two former sailors, engaged in a humanitarian project to salvage shipping containers - some of the thousands lost at sea every year.

Paths cross on an island somewhere, an idyllic backdrop to stories within stories, combining fact and fiction as the written word is used to create and destroy, to ignite and wash over.

A Pacific Ocean adventure unfolds, where the lost are found and trails are twisted, treasure is tracked and traced, rejected and collected, and in a fiery crescendo, each of the characters reveals their real strengths, agendas and allegiances.

About The Author
Chris Sutcliffe is an experienced traveller and language teacher, and has lectured in English and Second Language Education. A thirty-year resident of Melbourne, Australia, Chris has written and presented a multitude of educational television programs for Cinemedia, and also composed the narrative and soundtrack of Indo Express for the Eastern Film Corp. He began writing lyrics for the rock band Spliff and has written lyrics for a wide variety of productions since. He has also had a number of articles published in Music Trader magazine.

As co-writer and singer of Eintopf 11, Chris won the TripleJ YK2 Sonic Impact competition for the first song of the millennium, and he is still an active songwriter.

Currently, he is working on a screenplay loosely based around the disappearance of the Mornington Football Team in a boating tragedy, late in the nineteenth century. Chris holds a Masters degree in Educational Studies and has written a prolific amount of professional material over the last fifteen years.

Find Me An island is his first novel.

From The Book
Once Jordan had lashed the foresail down, he returned to the stern deck, took up the loose mizzen sheets and pulled the sail in tight either side. Emmaline sat upright - almost motionless in the gentle breeze and low undulating swell, the beacon receiver quietly beeping in the humid night air. The boys touched fists in solidarity.

Jordan ducked below, coming back soon after, changed out of his wet clothes and wearing a plain grey T-shirt and boxer shorts. He carried a single cup of coffee, which he handed over to Flack, slouched comfortably against the mizzenmast, in his usual position. A strong scent of rum rose with the coffee's steam. Phil wafted the cup under his nose in appreciation. He hadn't smelt anything as inviting for a while.

'The last of the Secret Stash,' Jordan confirmed.

Flack gave him a fleeting frown of disapproval then replied. 'Go to bed, buddy,' he sighed, looking down at his coffee then up at Jordy in thanks.

Jordan nodded. 'I'll sleep up here, mate. Back in a tick.' He left his friend at the wheel and went below.

Tramping back through the cabin, Jordan spied the radar screen, the tiny blip of the container clear about fifty metres astern, the larger blob of the island another couple of kilometres further back. The last two hours had been a big day, he reflected as he climbed wearily back on to the stern deck with a blanket and snuggled down. Soon he was falling into a black hole where nothing but two little lights flashed on and off, on and off, until they too were swallowed up in the dark of a dreamless sleep.