10 Year 8 English Term 3, Half-term Test Name; Class: __________ Date: Section A: Reading Robbie and his family were on a journey across the sea when their ship was hit by a violent storm. Before they could take cover, several passengers were washed into the sea. Read the extract below then answer the questions that follow it. The first thing I know is that my face is pressed into something cold and damp. I realise it is my own arm. I pull myself up and sit hunched, coughing and spluttering and spitting, trying to breathe. I don’t know how long I sit. I narrow my blurry eyes, trying to see. Ican see the cold, grey sky. I can see the cold, grey sea. can see huge waves crashing onto cold, grey pebbles. More than anything else, I can feel my freezing wet clothes clinging to me, and the freezing wet wind battering my face. I turn my face away from it. In the distance, perched above the sand dunes, Ican see a building. It has a door and one window. All I can think is that I need to shelter from the wind, I pull myself to my feet and stagger up the beach.20 25 40 50 It is a little hut, made of rough grey stone. It has a wooden door, no glass in its one window, and a roof that looks like it is made of slabs of soil that have fallen from the sky, dotted with tufts of rough thick grass. I pause as I reach the door of the hut, wondering whether to knock. I know there can be no one living inside this old ruin, but I knock all the same. There is no answer. I open the door and walk into the darkness. I pause and wait for my eyes to adjust. There is a wooden chair and a small wooden table. There is a fireplace, but no fire. A ragged scrap of material flutters in the window. There is a dirty mattress in one corner, and a crumpled blanket. I clamber onto the mattress, clamber under the blanket, and I shiver. I begin to feel a warmth creeping into my skin. As I lie in the little hut, I think back. Iremember getting on board the ship with my family. I remember Dad looking at the sky and saying, “Those clouds look black.” I remember the wind building, the waves growing. And the next thing I remember is finding myself lying on the beach, here — wherever that is. I realise I can feel my toes. I wriggle them against the rough warmth of the blanket. Slowly, the warmth seeps through me. I sleep. When I wake up, it is completely dark. I can see nothing. I can hear the sea, but it sounds gentle. The wind has dropped. And I can hear whistling. Not the whistling of the wind. As I struggle out of my sleep, I realise I can hear someone whistling a tune. I can hear footsteps on stones. I can hear grumbling and muttering and breathing. And then I hear the door of my hut opening, and someone walks in.