by Janis Mackay
Magnus Fin had his selkie magic. He would manage without Tarkin’s help. And Aquella was singing softly to some weird stinking thing. She didn’t need his help. “Oh jeepers creepers,” he gulped, staring out across the rippling water to the harbour. He had to haul the boat back into the water. He had to cross the bay and steer the boat into the narrow harbour. He had to put the boat back exactly where he found it, rush home, phone the police to report the illegal ocean dumping then jump into bed. Tarkin groaned. It seemed impossible.
Tarkin clenched his fists and drew in deep breaths of air. “Impossible ain’t part of your vocabulary, Tark. Remember that. Everything’s possible. Everything!” And he shouted it again, “Everything – everything!” as he ran up to the boat and lifted in the winch hook. “So far so good,” he yelled. “OK, Tarkin, now back to the ocean!”
He grasped the rope at the helm and swung the boat round. The beach sloped downwards to the sea, which made boat-pulling easy. It flew over the pebbles. In moments the boat nosed into the North Sea with a splash. Yelling, Tarkin jumped in and turned the key to start the engine.
“We’re harbour bound!” he shouted, and, Captain once more, tilted the rudder homewards.
Chapter 34
In another ocean, on the tiny island of Sule Skerrie, Magnus Fin felt happiness zip through his strong seal body. Moonlight threaded into the cave and fell upon Miranda. With each passing moment her once shrunken body filled out. Fin watched as the white veils that sat over her eyes drew back, like curtains opening. He stared into the shining green eyes of his grandmother.
Slowly she nodded her head. Then, barely louder than wind in the grass, Fin heard her whisper, Thank you.
He wanted to tell her he had found the cause of the sickness. He wanted to let her know that very soon the dump would be cleared up. For all he knew, Tarkin had already called the police. Then the Scottish Environment Protection Agency would come and haul out every dumped fridge, rotting battery and oozing tank. What if Tarkin hadn’t phoned yet? Fin needed to be on his way. But still the thought-speech refused to come. Perhaps Miranda understood. Perhaps it didn’t need words, not even selkie words. She nodded once more and whispered again, Thank you.
Miranda lowered her head back down on her mattress of sponge and kelp. She must have murmured some words in the old tongue to the grey seal, for soon after, the seal said to Magnus Fin, She will sleep now. The sickness has passed – thanks to you, Fin. Come, your job is done. Come and eat, and rest on the rocks. You have a long journey home.
Fin looked one last time at his grandmother. She slept peacefully now. He longed to tell her the bay would soon be clean. Beautiful as it was, they wouldn’t have to always stay at Sule Skerrie. Soon they could freely roam the seas again and return to the coves and waters close to his home.
For home would not be home if there were no seals in the bay. Who would he play his penny whistle to every morning? Who would sing to him as he spent hours beachcombing or fishing from the rocks? He struggled one last time to form thought-speech.
Getting clean, was all he managed to say after a good deal of concentration.
Miranda’s eyes flickered. She looked at him then faintly murmured, Good, Magnus Fin, that’s good.
Magnus Fin rocked himself out of the dark cave. The brightness of the moonlit night glared after the darkness inside. Blinking, he slithered over the dark rocks and slipped into the sea. A warm feeling coursed through his selkie blood. Round the other side of the island he heard the seals bellowing and splashing in the water. Lifting his nose Fin sniffed the salty air.
He turned his head in the direction of home, looking down the long silver moon path he would travel. He caught a flash of something black dipping in and out along this path. Whatever it was appeared to be swimming at great speed straight towards him.
My great nephew, I believe? The words came from a handsome, black bull seal. He breached the water in an arc and plunged towards Magnus Fin. I am Ragnor’s uncle. Loren’s the name. Now, don’t go just when I arrive. You’ll need to eat first. Come on, Magnus Fin. I’ve got fresh haddock. Hungry?
Normally Fin liked his fish fried, grilled or baked – not raw. But he was a seal now. Normally didn’t count. He nodded and plunged down through the water, following his great-uncle, who turned somersaults, honking and yelping. They are around here somewhere, these haddies, the large black seal called to Magnus Fin, who bumped up right behind. We just have to catch them first. Then he bared his teeth, as though showing Fin how to catch them. Come on, follow me.
Fin’s great-uncle Loren was a fine hunter. His muscular body darted through the water, slowing for an instant then pushing forward. In a flash he spotted a fish and was after it. In the next flash it was eaten.
Fin followed another haddock, in a half-hearted kind of way. His human thoughts and feelings still guided him. He didn’t really want to eat a raw fish, or catch it with his teeth. Loren splashed through the water, caught another haddock and tossed it towards Fin. He’d be offended if Fin didn’t eat it, so Fin opened his mouth and nibbled at the fish with his sharp teeth.
Good, eh? said Loren.
Magnus Fin nodded. It was! Then he tore hungrily at the haddock and gulped it down. It tasted much better than he had expected and gave him strength for the long journey back.
He lifted his head above the surface and to his amazement saw a throng of seals surrounding him.
Here are more friends and family, Fin. They are saying thank you and goodbye.
Loren guided Magnus Fin away from Sule Skerrie. Staying close to the island, the other seals, all crooning, yelping and clapping, cheered him on: this Sliochan Nan Ron who had brought the medicine for Miranda.
Magnus Fin blew air out through his soft nostrils and fanned out his tail fins. He needed to let Loren know that he and all the other selkies could soon return to the bay. He struggled to form his thoughts. We’ll get the bay clean, Fin managed to say, get rid of the sickness – then you can come back. Loren looked at him. He nodded his head, but whether he believed him or not Fin couldn’t tell. The gentle waves lapped around him. Sule Skerrie lay behind him. Far in the distance Cape Wrath beckoned.
That would be a good thing, Loren said, twisting back towards Sule Skerrie. When the bay is clean we’ll set Shuna and the other seals free. Now go, and greetings to Ragnor, and to Aquella, and thank you, Magnus Fin.
Then Magnus Fin plunged forward. He didn’t look back. The deep song of the seals went with him, but even that, as he made fast headway, soon grew silent. He was a seal alone in the wide deep ocean, and he was going home.
Chapter 35
Eastwards he swam: darting, diving, rearing out of the salty water, then plunging deep into the rolling waves. Rafts of gulls, disturbed from their slumbers on the winter’s sea, flew up screaming above him. Dolphins and porpoises rocked in his wake. Through the deep swelling waters of the Pentland Firth he cleaved. Over sunken ships he glided. Fin rounded the point at Duncansby Head. In and out of the mighty stacks he weaved, his whole body thrilling as he felt the familiar waters of the North Sea.
Strands of moonlight penetrated the dark water. Rounding a jutting rock Magnus Fin saw, lit up in a watery moonbeam, a familiar and unpleasant sight. He shivered, ready to dive into the kelp forest for cover when suddenly he remembered, he was no longer a skinny child in a wetsuit. He was a powerful seal.
Hello. How are you? Fin called out.
The fish gang huddled together and pushed their ragged leader to the fore. We ain’t doin’ no harm. Not us.
No way. We just – um …
Cruising? said Magnus Fin. Or loafing around?
He heard them whimper. He heard their rusting hooks grate against each other as they jostled. No! Oh no, don’t eat us, bro.
Yeah. We taste bad.
Real bad.
We’re just bones.
And scales.
And rustin’ hooks.
We’re riddled with disease.
Don’t
eat us, brother.
The fish gang had changed their tune. Magnus Fin swam closer. They looked even more ragged than he remembered. Shreds of plastic bags and cotton buds were twisted up in their hooks.
You look nice, bro.
Yeah, real bonny.
Yeah. No sense getting stomach ache with us.
The fish nodded, all the time slinking away from the big seal with the weird mismatched eyes and dangling necklace. Fin felt sorry for them. He could see how their ribs and bones stuck out. Their eyes bulged. They were dressed in shabby scales, wounds and festers.
Magnus Fin glided closer, swishing his two long tail fins lazily back and forth. Look, he said, I won’t eat you. I’m not hungry. Honest! I’m not even a real seal – I mean, not completely.
The fish gang stared at him and huddled even tighter together. They’d heard all kinds of excuses in their long and difficult lives. Sure you’re not! they all chorused, the smaller gang members trying very hard to hide behind the bigger ones.
Yeah – you’re a goldfish.
Na – he’s a lobster!
Na – definitely a whale, dontcha think?
Fin had no time to lose making small talk. He bared his sharp teeth and in seconds they fled. For ragged old fish, they could move fast when they had to. Fin laughed and plunged onwards.
Magnus Fin turned south and ploughed down the seas. He drew closer to the coast, skirting the steep craggy cliffs. Soon he would arrive in his home waters. He slowed down, excitement surging through him.
While heading up the coast, hours or minutes ago, the great change had happened. Trust, that’s what Aquella had said, and that’s what he had done. Fin flicked his tail fins through the water, waiting for this mighty seal body to change back into a boy. He lifted his head from the water and looked around. He recognised these cliffs. Far in the dim distance he could see the familiar outline of his house, and further along the coast, the cave. With his keen hearing he could hear music from the village hall. Any moment he would be back in the bay. His eager thoughts turned to panic. He glanced down at his strong round animal form. He was still a seal. Why hadn’t he changed?
I trust, he thought. Over and over he repeated the word in his mind, trust, trust, trust. But nothing happened. Magnus Fin, swimming into the familiar shallow waters of the bay, was still a seal. And though it had served him well and taken him at great speed the long distance to Sule Skerrie, he longed to be back in his human form.
He had reached the skerries. There, above him, was the black rock. In the cumbersome shape of a seal, Fin didn’t know how to heave and haul himself over these craggy rocks of all different shapes and sizes. Jump, run, leap, yes, but not rock on his belly.
Miserably he skirted the mast of the sunken ship and drifted on past the cave. Slowly he swam further up the beach until he came to a small shingle cove. In the shallow water he felt the scrape of sand and shells rub against his seal’s belly. Fervently he hoped the change would suddenly happen. But it didn’t.
Nothing happened. It was his flippers and not his hands that met the rough shingle of the beach. It was the strong round body of the seal that rocked and heaved itself out of the water, crushing shells under his weight. He tried to rid his mind of the clamouring thoughts that told him he would always be like this – a creature of the sea. Never would he run along the beach. Never would he jump from rock to rock. Never would he play basketball or talk with a human voice.
Lifting his seal head, Magnus Fin could make out, in the distance, the outline of the cave. Where was Tarkin now? And Aquella? And the wild creature in the net? Where were they? The beach was deserted.
Perhaps, Fin thought, he needed to peel himself out of the skin. He squirmed from side to side over the gritty sand. He rubbed his pelt with his flippers. He smacked his tail fins up and down on the shingle. He rolled from side to side. He wriggled. Whimpering now, he rocked himself vigorously back and forth. But try as he might nothing took the seal skin off him. He slumped his head onto the beach, exhausted. He was trapped in this body. A large tear rolled down his soft dog-like head.
I’m sorry about this, M F.
Slowly Fin turned his head. There, inches from his dark soft nose, sat the crab. I am really sorry. I don’t know what do say. You did a great job, M F.
Through moist eyes Fin stared at the crab. There was nothing to say. For a while the seal and the crab lay on the beach side by side in silence. Then the crab said, Neptune says thank you. He’s busy. Very busy. He’s trying to wipe oil from fish’s scales and bird’s feathers. He’s far away. He couldn’t come himself. But he wants you to know he is grateful for everything you’ve done. Maybe that’s some consolation for you.
Still Fin stared at the crab. The crab clicked his nippers together and seemed uncomfortable. Look, Fin. I’m really sorry about this. I’m just the messenger. Um – nice necklace by the way.
And with that compliment, the crab scuttled away. Fin lifted his neck and heard his moon-stone scrape against a shell. After all this time it was still there, hanging round his neck. Fin brought a flipper round to touch the lucky stone his father had given him on his eleventh birthday.
Patting the moon-stone, Fin felt warm tears course down his sleek face. He lifted his head and blew through his lips. His deep seal’s cry pierced the night.
Chapter 36
Aquella, sensing it was time for Magnus Fin to return, had come to the mouth of the cave. She left Ronan sleeping peacefully by the fire covered in her warm jacket. She looked anxiously out over the moon-dappled water. Where was Magnus Fin? Her keen sight picked out a floating branch and a buoy – but no sign of Fin.
Fin, she called anxiously, Magnus Fin. No reply. She called in her thoughts; she called with her voice. Only the crackle of burning wood at her back and the soft breathing of her brother called back.
Aquella ran down to the beach. Tarkin and the boat had gone. She ran further along the beach. Suddenly she stopped in her tracks and lifted her head. A faint cry sounded on the wind. She ran faster now, following that cry, up the beach and over the rocks, away from the cave and the skerries. She ran as fast as she could up the coast, her webbed feet crunching down into the shingle.
“Fin!” she cried, her voice breaking as she ran. “Magnus Fin!”
When she found him he was rolling backwards and forwards, helplessly flapping his flippers against his body.
“Oh, Fin!” she cried out. “Fin! What happened to you?” It was she who had told him to trust the change. Now he was stuck. She sunk to her knees, reached out and held him. The exhausted seal on the beach now lay still, whimpering. Aquella pressed the side of her face against the sleek fur of her cousin. How long, she wondered, had he lain there, squirming, wriggling and calling for her?
She knew it was Fin. The black hair of the boy was changed into the black sleek fur of the seal. The green and brown eyes were now the eyes of the seal. There was even something about the shape of the face that was his. Changed, but not changed.
Miranda is well, Fin managed to say, each word like a faint rustling. But we still have to clear the dump. Perhaps the closeness of Aquella gave strength to Magnus Fin, for his thoughts came, stronger now as he lifted his seal head. I didn’t know how to change, he said. Help me, I’m scared. I don’t know how to take off the skin.
Aquella hardly knew either any more. She gazed up at the moon, as though she’d find an answer in that silvery face. She turned to watch the waves curl up the shore. Frantically she swept her fingers through the shingle. Her mind raced now. There were ways. It had happened before. Skins had stuck. Once, a long time ago, she’d helped Ronan. Do it calmly, that’s what Miranda had told her, and let the rhythm of your voice mirror the rhythm of the sea.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. In her mind she waited for the right song. She breathed in tune with the rhythm of the sea. And as a wave broke and gurgled over the shingle the right song came to her. Like a bright star in a clear night sky it shone.
F
in, she said, drawing up close to her cousin. Dear Fin, think of all the good things, think of all the treasures you’re going to find washed up on the shore from the Titanic. Think of that, Magnus Fin. Think of running, walking and jumping over the rocks. Picture your body whole and strong.
Gently Aquella laid her hands on Fin’s sleek head. She said it again, the word she’d said before: Trust, Fin. Trust.
Magnus Fin thought of the ceilidh dance and of his mother and father, dancing like waves of the sea. He thought of Christmas and whether he’d get a bike this year, and whether Tarkin’s dad would come and visit, all the way from the Yukon. Fin thought of that Ferrari number plate he’d found and did that mean there was a whole Ferrari under the sea, rusting away? He thought of running down the beach path at top speed and leaping over the rocks. He imagined having legs and arms …
Aquella breathed deeply and let the song come.
Sea king
Gull wing
Moon ray
Sea spray
Kith kin
Seal skin
Change
Under her fingers she felt hairs bristle. Hope leapt in her. Again she sang, blending her voice with the ebb and flow of the sea.
Sea King
Gull wing
Moon ray
Sea spray
Kith kin
Seal skin
Change
Change
Change
The bristling under her fingers intensified. She drew back her hand and watched in joy as the seal skin parted, falling away in folds from Fin’s shoulders, his chest, his belly. His arms burst out to the side as the strong flippers fell back, like the sleeves of a fur coat when the coat is taken off.