The Moth and Moon

by Glenn Quigley

  He walked away, laughing his scratchy, unsettling laugh while Ben Blackwall stood wide-eyed and shaking.

  Upon hearing the makeup of the teams, Hamilton Bounsell quietly took Duncan to one side while the other men sorted through the equipment they would need to carry. They hadn’t had much opportunity to talk since the storm had struck.

  “Are you sure about this? I can get Mr. Penny to swap with you, if you like?” Hamilton offered.

  Duncan glanced over at Robin and Edwin as they lifted ropes and lanterns from the raft and divided them amongst the two groups.

  “It’ll be fine—it’s different now. We talked things over in the lighthouse. I’ll tell you all about it later. But thanks for the offer, Ham,” Duncan said as he lightly tapped his friend on the arm. He knew Mr. Bounsell disliked being called that, which was almost entirely the reason he said it.

  The tunnels were still wet, and water dripped from every surface. The sea level had risen much farther than anyone had suspected. As they called and searched, they grew increasingly concerned. They had retreated quite far into the islet by now, and if Jim and his son hadn’t gotten in there quickly enough, they would have been caught by the rising waters.

  Duncan, Robin, and Edwin navigated their way as swiftly as possible through the eastern side of the caves. The tunnels were slick, salty, grimy channels that riddled the island. The party’s candlelight vitalised the sickly green and grey colours and caused the walls to ebb and pulse. Edwin said it was like walking into the belly of a great beast—the monstrous arteries of a titan. Duncan lagged behind the two taller men, his squat legs finding it hard to keep pace. They walked ahead, probing the darkness, squeezing through the narrow confines of the tunnels, watching out for each other, warning about areas of unsafe footing and hazardous rock formations. Robin slipped abruptly and hit the ground with a hefty thump. Edwin, who had taken the lead, turned and laughed, then held out a hand. Robin grabbed it and Edwin heaved him to his feet. They stood together, face to face for the briefest of moments, lit only by the lantern light, and to his surprise, in that single moment, Duncan felt as though he were able to breathe again, for what seemed like the first time in years. Shaking his head and laughing softly, he let them walk on while he stood behind a notably phallic rock formation and relieved himself.

  Robin and Edwin chatted as they walked. Mostly it was about their surroundings as Robin wasn’t ready to discuss what had happened with Morwenna. Suddenly, he stopped and held up a finger to his lips.

  “Shush!” he whispered abruptly.

  He listened carefully, certain that he heard a voice calling out before realising it was just the other team coming out of a nearby tunnel. Both groups had arrived at the same place from different shafts—a huge chamber crowned with thousands of stalactites. The heart of the islet. Minerals and crystals in the walls caught the light from their lanterns and threw it back in dazzling shards. The area they walked on sloped gently upwards before dropping off to the water far below. The lapping waves at the bottom of the chasm echoed throughout the cavern.

  As the men reached the lip of the ridge, they heard weak voices calling from below. Holding their lanterns as low as they could manage, they spotted the two fishermen clinging to a tiny ledge.

  “Jim! Allister!” Robin called out. “Are you injured?”

  “No” came the faint reply. “We’re fine but we can’t climb out.”

  Glad to see them both still alive, the men buckled down to getting them out of their predicament. The fishermen had been stuck there overnight, and between the cold, the hunger, and the shock, neither one had the strength to pull themselves up a rope. Someone would have to go and get them.

  “I’ll go,” Robin said without hesitation.

  He took a rope and began to wrap it around his prodigious girth.

  “You absolutely will not,” said Edwin.

  “I can manage.” He frowned.

  Edwin grabbed the rope from Robin’s hands and began tying it around his own waist.

  “Even if you hadn’t collapsed yesterday, do you really think your joints are up to the climb? You’d be better off up here as an anchor. Duncan and Mr. Bounsell, too. Where is Duncan, by the way?”

  “I’m here, don’t panic, I’m coming,” Duncan said, as he emerged from a tunnel.

  “Where ’ave you been?” Robin asked.

  “I was peeing, if you must know. Now, what am I doing?”

  “You’re bein’ an anchor with us two,” Robin said, indicating to himself and Hamilton Bounsell.

  “Why us?” Duncan asked.

  “Yer all very…sturdy,” said Mr. Penny.

  Robin, Duncan, and Mr. Bounsell were all heavy-limbed and robust, and each unconsciously touched their own sizeable bellies. While Duncan was by far the lightest of the three, his gut was still more than ample. Robin moved close to Edwin and double-checked his knots.

  “They’re fine. You taught me well.” Edwin smiled.

  “Are you sure about this? We’re very ’igh up,” Robin whispered. He didn’t want the other men to hear.

  “I can manage. I have to. Besides, you’ll be up here. I’m in safe hands,” Edwin said softly.

  Robin finished his checks and put his hands on Edwin’s shoulders.

  “Just don’t look down,” he said.

  Mr. Penny stood, holding another rope out to Archibald Kind, who raised an eyebrow and cocked a hip.

  “I hope you’re not suggesting I go down there?” he scoffed.

  Mr. Penny growled, shook his head, and began tying the rope around his own waist.

  “You’d be no use anyway,” he snarled, half under his breath. “You’d snap like a bleddy twig.”

  Archibald Kind fixed a stray lock of hair into place and smirked. “Quite right. Better to send a thick oak, instead.”

  They tied the ropes around some rocky outcrops. When the makeshift pulley system was in place, with Robin and Hamilton Bounsell acting as counterweights, Edwin and Mr. Penny lowered themselves down the slippery rock face. Duncan checked the ropes and made sure everything was as safe as possible, and then he and Archibald Kind took up the slack. Once over the edge, the lanterns tied to their waists bounced as the men descended. More than once, they lost their footing as their heavy boots slipped on the rocks, causing them to slam against the bluff.

  When they reached the ledge, they each took one of the shivering fishermen on their backs. Luckily, both men were of slighter frame so it wouldn’t be too much trouble for the solidly built rescuers to carry them back up. Once secured, they began the slow climb back up the cliff. The black waters far below noisily churned and gurgled, reminding them all of what awaited them should they fall. The water probably wasn’t very deep, meaning there would be little to protect them from hitting the cave floor. A fall from the tiny ledge would be dangerous; a fall from the climb back up would be certain death.

  The men up top pulled the ropes to help, but it was slow going. Mr. Penny reached the summit first, having taken the frailer, elderly Jim Stillpond on his back. Both men clambered away from the cliff face and lay on the ground for a moment, catching their breath. Hamilton Bounsell gave Jim some water from a sheepskin he had tied around his waist. The old man was badly shaken but otherwise unharmed.

  Meanwhile, Edwin was still ascending. The added weight of Allister had slowed him down considerably. Suddenly, Duncan was shouting and pointing.

  Edwin’s rope was beginning to fray. His calm, steady pace suddenly increased. His hands grasped the line over and over, his boots scraped and slid across the rock face, finding purchase in even the narrowest of fissures. There was no time to untie Mr. Penny’s rope and drop it down to Edwin.

  “Faster, Edwin, faster!” Robin called.

  As he approached the top, Robin held firm, both hands clutching the rope in his vice-like grip and feet planted into grooves in the ground. Duncan and Hamilton Bounsell reached out and took Allister by his forearms, heaving him to safety. Edwin had grabbed the slick roc
ks and was about to pull himself to safety when his hands and boots slipped, causing the rope to finally snap. Edwin plunged down the rock face, toward the seething waters below.

  Time seemed to slow to a crawl for Robin as he called out and dived to the ground, grabbing blindly at the air. Everyone was shouting all at once, and their voices blended into a bewildering cacophony. Edwin’s sleeve ripped open, clasped tightly in Robin’s hand.

  “I’ve got you, Edwin. I’ve got you,” he said.

  Edwin dangled over the edge, striking against the rocks. The lantern that had been secured around his waist had been knocked loose and it plummeted into the darkness below—a tumbling box of light, ultimately swallowed by the wet, lapping dark.

  Edwin reached out with his free hand to grab Robin by the arm. Duncan and Hamilton Bounsell had taken Robin by the legs and waist while Mr. Penny and Mr. Kind reached over the edge to grab Edwin’s shirtsleeves, and together, they all pulled him over the ridge to safety.

  Robin and Edwin lay on their backs, panting heavily. Light from the group’s lanterns danced around the chamber. Sweat sat on Edwin’s brow, and there was an unfamiliar look in his eyes. Robin abruptly let out a nervous laugh.

  “I told you I wouldn’t let you fall, Mr. Farriner.” He playfully slapped Edwin’s shoulder and, scrambling to his feet, offered him a hand up. They stood facing each other, then leaned in and hugged for a long time, laughing and feeling grateful to be able to do so, before beginning their journey back through the tunnels to the raft.

  Alone in the chamber, Duncan walked to the edge of the ridge and stared down into the darkness. Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew the small piece of yellowed paper he had kept tucked inside. Flipping it open, he read it again, for the thousandth time, tracing the childlike scrawl with his thumb.

  “Duncan!” Robin’s voice echoed from the tunnel. “You ready or are you peein’ again?”

  Duncan took a deep breath and scrunched the note into a ball, then dropped it over the edge, letting it fall away into the chasm.

  “I’m coming now,” he called back. “I’m ready.”

  It took a couple of trips on the little raft to get everyone back to the boat. Jim and Allister were shaken but would recover in time. They had blindly raced through the tunnels to escape the water and slipped over the ridge. It was incredibly fortunate they had landed on the little lip jutting out from the cliff face. Allister had landed first, breaking his father’s fall and thankfully nothing else. Sometime in the night, their fishing vessel had been shattered to pieces against the rocks. They had worried that if that happened no one would know they were in the caves.

  Robin was lost in his thoughts, adrift in the events of the past few hours. Talking with Duncan, almost losing Edwin, Morwenna’s lie—it was all too much to take in. How could she? How could she lie to him like that? For his whole life? As a child, every time she comforted him through his nightmares—the ones where he was left alone on an island, the ones where he saw his father’s face under the waves—she knew. Every time she helped him cope with running his tall, thin house, she knew. As an adult, every time he set off to the towns of Blackrabbit Island in search of Rose, she knew. Every time he spoke about what his mother might have been like, she knew. Every time she…every time. She was there every time. Every time he needed help. Every time he needed advice. Every time he needed his mother. She was there.

  Every.

  Single.

  Time.

  Edwin played with the frayed edges of the tear in his shirtsleeve, the place where Robin had grabbed him. He pushed his fingers through and wiggled them.

  “You ripped my good shirt,” he said playfully. “I’m telling your mum.”

  Robin suddenly laughed and laughed. It took everyone quite by surprise. He laughed until he shook, until he sobbed, until his cheeks were wet, until he began to lose his breath, until Edwin slid over and put his arm around his shoulders. Through the haze of tears, Robin had begun to see clearly.

  “My mum,” Robin repeated. “I’ve got a mum.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  AS THE RESCUE boat approached the harbour, picking its way through the floating debris, the band of men could see a small crowd had gathered at the pier. At the forefront was Mrs. Stillpond, crying into a linen handkerchief.

  Archibald Kind jumped from his seat and perched himself at the prow of the vessel, triumphantly waving his purple silk scarf and cheering. “It’s fine. I’ve got them! They’re both fine! I found them in the cave!”

  The crowd cheered at this news, and they jumped and waved back frantically. Mrs. Stillpond cried even harder now.

  “Sit down, you idiot,” Mr. Penny snapped. “Anyone would think you swam out to the cave and carried them home on your back.”

  Archibald flopped back into his seat. His extravagant periwinkle coat, though somewhat sodden from the drizzle and sea spray, still managed to flare out around him like an ostentatious aura. He primped and preened his ruffled collar and sleeves, then he took a small ivory comb from an inside pocket and ran it through his flowing locks a few times, making himself presentable for his audience before another sharp growl from Mr. Penny forced him to put it back in his pocket and pick up his oar.

  “My dear Mr. Penny, it is important, on occasions such as this, to look as marvellous as the actions one has undertaken. The people expect nothing less,” Archibald said as he jutted his chin upward.

  He wanted to make sure the villagers with the best eyesight were treated to his impeccable jawline as early as possible. They docked the craft at the pier, close to the shoreline, and disembarked. Archibald Kind was the first off, naturally, and he instantly began regaling the crowd with the heroic tale. He knew the importance of getting one’s side of the story across first. Everyone else’s account would simply be an interpretation—his would be the original.

  The crowd helped Jim and Allister Stillpond up the slippery steps.

  “Thank you, Mr. Kind, thank you so much,” Mrs. Stillpond cried as she hugged Archibald, then her husband, then her son, and then Archibald again.

  “Oh, it was nothing, Mrs. Stillpond. I was happy to help them,” he replied, beaming his immaculate smile at the crowd.

  “You what?” Mr. Penny barked. “We had to search every corner of the Moth & Moon and practically drag you away from that new barmaid. You had no bleddy intention of…”

  “It doesn’t really matter who done what.” Robin Shipp interrupted, “All that matters is Jim an’ Allister are safe, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “If you say so,” replied Mr. Penny with a grin. “By the way, Mr. Kind, I think you left yer comb in the boat.”

  Archibald turned and immediately ran over to where the scarred sailor was standing.

  “Did I? That’s not like me. I don’t see it,” he said.

  “Have a closer look,” growled Mr. Penny as he slapped Archibald on his back and sent him crashing into the freezing cold water below. He landed with a terrific splash and floundered about, thrashing his arms and legs wildly while the crowd pointed and laughed.

  “Help!” Archibald gasped. “Help!”

  Robin Shipp cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, “Stand up, Mr. Kind!”

  With that, Archibald relaxed and realised he was in shallow water. His boots touched the stony seabed and he scrambled to his feet. The waves lapped around his chest and no higher. His hair, once so bouncy and free, was now matted to his skull, and his elegant frilly shirt and coat clung to him like wet rags.

  The tiny, frail form of Mrs. Hanniti Kind pushed her way to the front of the laughing crowd. Seeing her nephew standing like a drowned rat, she turned and stared up at the coriaceous Mr. Penny from beneath her bonnet.

  “He slipped,” coughed Mr. Penny before taking his leave.

  Morwenna had returned from the cemetery and waited nervously to welcome the rescue party back to shore. Robin walked the short distance to her, and they stood there while people milled around them in chatter
ing clumps. She braced herself, uncertain of what would come next. The last time she’d seen him, he’d formed a frightening silhouette against a brooding sky, more angry than she had ever seen him. What would he say now? What would he do?

  She flinched when Robin knelt down and threw his enormous arms around her.

  “You’ve lived with this secret so long,” he said. “You waited all this time and you couldn’t tell me. I understand, Mum. I understand.”

  And for the first time in her life, Morwenna Whitewater held her beloved son in her arms for all the world to see.

  Robin walked back to the Moth & Moon with Morwenna hugging his waist as best she could. The assembled crowd followed them to get out of the rain, all the while discussing the details of what had happened to Jim and Allister during their time in the cave. Once indoors, Robin stood by the inglenook and relayed his version of events. Morwenna’s tweed knights joined her at the round table, but this time, Mrs. Greenaway attempted to take Morwenna’s traditional spot by the fireplace, only to be shooed away by the widow’s cane. The knights listened to Robin’s story and muttered amongst themselves, eyeing both him and Morwenna with suspicion. Robin, not usually one to pick up on such subtleties, couldn’t help but see how they were behaving. Something had definitely changed. He sat down and sank into himself when he realised the cause—rather than Morwenna’s standing in the community raising him up, it seemed he was dragging her down. He had thought all that was behind him, thought the village had started to embrace him, at last, but now he wondered if their suspicion of him would always remain.