Above, the currach had made sudden, but expected, contact with the much bigger boat. Croga still had her wits about her and had used her power over the elements to steer their craft to the rear of the trawler. They were caught in the mesh of the net. Now, fishing boat and currach were being hauled backwards at merciless speed.
Suddenly, the terrifying ordeal stopped abruptly and everything became calm. As the trawler’s engine stalled, Gorum reappeared over the side of the currach. Using the net to get his footing, he climbed aboard and smiled. Before he could speak, the big boat moved forward and floated away lazily on the swelling waves. The Shamrogues could hear voices overhead, coming from the deck.
“That was a close call, lads,” a man was saying. “Bet that was one of those blasted nuclear submarines on patrol. We’d better report this matter to the Admiralty as soon as we get into port. Newspapers as well; they’ll pay good money for a story like this! And we might need it to cover the loss of the nets.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” another voice answered, and then asked: “What should we do now?”
“Pull in those nets, of course. Are ye still a bunch of Welsh landlubbers who don’t know what to do with torn nets? Get them on board before the sub decides to do an encore!”
There was hearty laughter and the sound of a motor. The Shamrogues began to feel the mesh trap slowly drawing them towards the deck of the trawler.
“Stone!” Trom commanded huskily before they and the currach were hauled on board.
A crewman called out, “Cap’n, come and see what’s been dragged in in the net.”
The captain, with three others, examined their find.
“Well, it’s certainly no fish. This little boat appears to be some child’s toy. There’s even a few trinkets in the bottom.” The captain removed the mast and sail and put his hand inside to take out the gifts that Mulligan had given the Shamrogues.
One of the crewmen spoke. “And the kid had the good sense to use some ballast to weigh the hull. There’s five stones there too. They can help our ballast now! I’ll throw them in the hold rather than chuck them overboard, OK, Cap’n?”
“By all means, Jonesy. We’ll share the rest of the booty.”
Having given the insect in amber, the sabre tooth and mini-harmonica to the three crewmen, the captain kept the currach and the cut citrine quartz. The trawler’s skipper put the little boat on the floor in the corner of his shabby cabin. Then he returned to inspect the damage to his expensive net.
From where they had landed in the hold, the Shamrogues heard the captain address his crew.
“We’ve had a right scare, lads, and we’re all a bit shaky. The tankards of rum are on me when we dock. We’re lucky that submarine didn’t drag us down to Davy Jones’s locker. For that, we should be thankful.”
Once the men were out of earshot, Trom looked at Gorum. “What happened down there?”
Groum shrugged and then explained. “I came across a monstrous steel-encased boat with a sort of pipe sticking up from its top. It was caught in the fishing net. Using my knowledge of the water, I conjured up a tremendous current that flowed against the progress of the undersea boat. And when the craft slowed down, I simply slipped the net from the pipe and set it free. It was nothing really.”
“Good for you,” Sona said. “You acted really brave. What a great captain you make, full of courage and wisdom.”
“Rubbish,” snorted Croga. “It’s only because his magic gives him some power over water that he seems brave. Why he’s just a…”
Suddenly they heard the crew talking among themselves as the trawler chugged homeward bound.
“Look! there’s that infernal reprocessing plant on the coast,” one of them said. “The sooner we get past it, the better for us all! These waters are not safe.”
There was the sound of feet moving on the wooden deck. Then only the throb of the engine could be heard.
The Shamrogues exchanged knowing glances and smiled. Without speaking, they were aware of what they had to do. By some miracle of fate, they had finally reached their destination. Now, they had to take matters in hand.
Creeping up on deck, they heard the crew talking happily in their quarters and someone playing the harmonica. Mulligan’s gift had found a talented owner.
Glic grinned. “He plays better than yours truly. I think I can live with that.”
Going on, they spied the captain in the wheelhouse. He was intent on steering and puffed happily on a large pipe as he hummed to the music of the harmonica.
Trom whispered, “Since we’re in a hurry, this calls for some magic. Hold hands.” Then he began a low chant.
Currach made of tarpaulin and pitch,
‘Tis my intention to bewitch.
So from your hiding place, come forth
To carry us safely to threatened port!
The Shamrogues hid behind a heap of tangled net. Soon their patience was rewarded. The currach glided from the captain’s cabin as if it had invisible wings. They quickly climbed in before the little craft dropped itself onto the sea’s surface and was gently carried ashore.
Behind them, the trawler sailed on its way. Ahead, the stacks of the reprocessing plant belched out repulsive clouds that obscured the innocent sky.
Chapter Fourteen
The New-Killer
A surf-tipped wave rushed the Shamrogues forwards and straight to the shoreline. Here, the air smelled heavy and peculiar in comparison to the freshness of the open sea. Slipping ashore, the band of five immediately concealed the currach in the same fashion as they had on the Isle of Man. This time, though, they were more vigilant, and made sure that no one, neither man nor animal, watched their actions. Within minutes they had completed the task and they moved silently inland.
“The huge buildings are still some way off,” Gorum said as they sheltered beneath a low ivy-covered wall. “And there’s a lot of daylight left. Maybe we should stay here until nightfall so as to avoid being seen.”
Croga looked anxiously at the others. “See? What did I tell you? He’s back to himself, acting with the caution of a pessimist. I think we should get on with what we’ve come to do. Let’s not dally!”
“There’s no need for disagreement!” Sona declared. “Can we not do as we have in the past and disguise ourselves?”
A wide bow-shaped smile appeared on Glic’s face. “We certainly had the fishermen fooled when we were mere stones. Let’s do the same again.”
Trom appealed for a show of hands. “Are we all of the same mind?”
The Shamrogues, as stones, hurtled towards the reprocessing plant. Dirty, brown-hued mist hung about the tops of the broad stacks that dwarfed the multi-storey buildings. The countryside nearby was bleak and sadly barren. They reached a linked fence and came to a halt behind a wide upright pillar that was made of discoloured concrete.
Having resumed their normal identities, Gorum spoke. “TukTuk was once here. Her scent is very faint now, but I picked it up nevertheless. I have a real dread of this place, I don’t know about you.”
“It can do little harm for us to continue on,” Trom suggested. “Once we proceed carefully and remain alert. Let us follow this beaten track and see where it leads.”
Further along, Glic, who was scouting ahead of the others, called back, “I’ve discovered a low gap where some of the steel links have unravelled. It’s protected from view by a mound of clay that lies between it and a building with many windows. Come on! We can enter without being noticed.”
Once inside the perimeter fence, Trom shook with a sudden shiver that rippled through him. “Mulligan was definitely correct. I too can feel it now. This place is most definitely very, very dangerous.”
“You see,” Gorum said, worry in his voice. “We’re all conscious of the bad vibes we’re getting. I think we should return to the safety of our own land. We’ve seen how awful this place looks and felt its evil about us. I fear for our very lives.”
“No!” Croga insisted crossly. “We mu
st go on. I want to see this other power that opposes mine. I have to understand what it is…and I refuse to go back until I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” She stormed along, concealed by the mound, and when she reached open ground she became stone and began to roll towards the big buildings ahead.
“Well?” Trom asked quietly, not really needing an answer.
They all immediately followed Croga, determined to help their fellow Shamrogue no matter what the consequences might be.
But, for all their rolling and bowling about the vast compound, they could not find an open entrance to any of the buildings. The tall solid doors were tightly shut. Apart from that, they were faced with the problem of not knowing exactly what they were searching for, or where it might be found. And, on at least three occasions, they were nearly run over by whizzing forklift trucks that sped to and fro across the compound.
Almost dazed from the hurtling about, they soon realised that they would have to try some other method.
Behind a stack of red-painted barrels, Trom spoke urgently. “We can’t just keep wandering around in the hope of finding the New-Killer. Let’s get to a safer place and decide what to do next.”
“The beach is the best spot,” Gorum insisted. “Away from here.”
At this, he met with no argument, not even from Croga. They made their way back out through the gap and sat on the soft sand when they reached the shoreline.
Gorum sat staring at the sand. With both hands, he lifted as much as he could of the grains and let them drain slowly through his fingers. “Apart from the processing plant, the place has the appearance of peace about it. But even these particles of sand don’t feel right. What do you think, Trom?”
“Enough of this,” Tom said. “I’m sorry, but I’m very tired. Our energies are draining and we haven’t even really started yet. We’ll put it to a final vote, once and for all, whether to continue or not.” He sighed heavily. “Those who earnestly wish to finish the mission, raise your hand.”
There were serious moments of hesitation as a decision was reached in each Shamrogue’s mind. Before anyone had a chance to do as requested, a commotion at sea, not far off, caught their attention.
Two rubber dinghies lay still on the choppy water. Some humans on board were diving into the sea, while others were handing them some objects from the bottom of the shallow boats. The divers disappeared beneath the waves.
The Shamrogues watched this activity for some time. Suddenly, the “WOOP-WOOP” of a siren broke the silence. Another vessel sped towards the stationary crafts and a stern voice called through a loudspeaker:
“MAKE NO RESISTANCE! WE ARE GOING TO TAKE YOU ON BOARD, AND BRING YOUR DINGHIES IN TOW. COME QUIETLY AND IT’LL BE EASIER FOR YOU. NOW, MOVE IT!”
Watching, Trom saw some words written on the sides of the dinghies. “PEACE!” he read. “NO NUCLEAR WASTE!”
Later, with everyone on board, the high-powered boat raced away, siren still blaring, tugging the dinghies unceremoniously behind.
The leader stroked his long white beard. “What if those people have discovered a way in? Perhaps there’s a passage or a tunnel of some sort hidden below the waves.”
Sona was confused by what she had just witnessed. “Why didn’t they simply walk in the front gate, as other humans do?” she asked. “Surely that would be far more sensible.”
Croga replied, “Maybe not everybody is in favour of the plant. I bet there are others like Mulligan who want to stop the pollution and shut the reprocessing down completely. That boat was probably sent by the New-Killer authorities to stop those others from interfering with the work.”
“I bet you’re spot on,” Glic remarked. “So where does that leave us?”
Trom looked to Gorum. “What is your opinion? It would be greatly valued.”
The blue creature stood up and rubbed the sticky grains of sand from between his fingers. Without speaking, he walked from where the others sat toward the water’s edge.
He paused and stared at where the dinghies had rested on the waves. Above, the sky was turning dark. Cold twinkling stars gleamed like pinholes in the heavens. A blast of chill breeze whistled across the emptiness of the Irish Sea, and Gorum experienced the feeling of being homesick for the first time. The other Shamrogues silently joined him, as though the same thread of thought was running through their minds.
Behind them, the huge buildings with enormous towers and bottle-shaped stacks rose with cruel indifference into the grey screen of mist that hung suspended in the sky. The dreaded sight made them realise how very small they were by comparison. Fear took hold of their hearts and they trembled at what they had decided to undertake in their greatest challenge ever.
Gorum affectionately glanced at the others. “If we all hold hands and walk into the sea, we might just find a tunnel. That way, we can save our magic powers until we need them. There’s no need to be afraid of the water. Come on, I’ll lead the way.”
Side by side, they moved along the seabed until they reached the spot where the dinghies had been. They knew it was the proper place when they came across the abandoned objects left by the divers. There, protruding from a sandbank, was the exit of the discharge pipeline which pumped millions of gallons of radioactive effluent into the Irish Sea every day.
Trom, quickly adjusting to being under the sea, saw how the divers had come prepared with materials that would block the pipe. He read the words that were printed on a weighted box, which had caught his attention:
HEAVY DUTY INFLATABLE BALLOON.
MADE OF THICK RUBBER.
PULL RED CORD TO INFLATE WHEN IN POSITION.
So that was what the divers intended to do, to seal off the flow and plug up the works! A useful piece of information to know.
Taking care, the Shamrogues entered the black gaping mouth of the pipe. They helped one another to fight the obnoxious torrent of waste and soon found themselves climbing upwards. Breathing deeply to suck whatever oxygen was still in the water, they couldn’t avoid swallowing huge mouthfuls of horrid waste.
Spluttering, they eventually emerged into a lofty hangar-type warehouse with signs placed on the high walls, reading: “BEWARE!” “CAUTION!” “STAY CLEAR!” and “DANGER!”
Luckily, there appeared to be no workers in this part of the building. A constant whirring sound echoed throughout the place. It was very, very cold.
“I don’t like the sensation this gives me,” Gorum whispered. “And I’m not afraid to admit that I’m scared, more so than I’ve ever been before. We’ve had a look inside, now let’s be going before we’re spotted. Even as ordinary stones, we’d look terribly out of place here.”
“Good point,” Trom agreed. “There’s little cover for hiding if anyone comes.”
But Croga was insistent. “We must see the New-Killer. TukTuk deserves that at least. Therefore, I will go on, even if you decide to leave me. I would not blame you for doing so, though. There is indeed a most unpleasant presence nearby.”
“Well, now’s the time to face it!” Glic exclaimed as he peered around. “We must be able to see this thing to deal with it. Anyway, Caffa gave us the knowledge to cope.
Trom considered this as he squeezed and wrung the water from his beard, which formed a spreading pool on the floor. “We’ll hide behind those pipes over there.” He pointed to some cream-painted tubing that extended from the roof above and went into the floor at the base of a bare brick wall. “Then we can, once and for all, find out what we’re up against. Let’s see what reveals itself.”
And so a very important decision was reached at last. The Shamrogues formed a circle and held hands, linking their power. The leader closed his eyes and concentrated.
To this place we’ve come to see,
From freshest forest that was our base.
A polluter, green earth’s enemy,
To challenge now and meet us face to face!
Slowly, they opened their eyes and blinked. In the great warehouse, nothing was happening, but the mono
tonous droning sound continued.
Then Gorum, who had been dreading the worst, looked at the water that had been wrung onto the floor from his leader’s whiskers.
“It’s bubbling!” he croaked, and swallowed hard.
The others watched, astonished by what was happening in front of their very eyes. The bubbles rose and heaved, only to burst and form again. Each occasion saw them grow in size and become contorted. Making slurping noises, the water began to become scummy. It frothed as it quickly began to spin upwards from the ground to become an enormous pillar of dripping slime. The pillar seemed to issue a long gasp that was delivered as a breath of hissing steam. Two laser-red eyes appeared where the semblance of a head had formed. On the grey, oozing face, grotesque in every detail, a hideous mouth appeared. When it opened to deliver a leering grin, the inside could be seen as a red glowing mass.
“So!” a voice barked as the laser eyes raked the spot where the Shamrogues hid. “You’ve dared to summon me into your puny insignificant presence. You miserable tiny wretches! Why have you called upon me? Speak, or go now before I turn nasty!”
“He’s willing to let us go,” Gorum muttered. “Now we’ve seen him, we can leave while we’re still in one piece.”
The monstrous horror heaved and emitted an eruption of fiery words. “The little blue clown is more sensible than I’d give him credit for. Heed what he says!”
Gorum felt the stinging insult but said nothing more. Trom stepped forward and raised a threatening finger.
“That, New-Killer, is quite enough! You’ll have to give up your evil ways, or we’ll be forced to teach you a lesson!”
The warehouse boomed with rasping laughter. The fetid creature dripped and sloshed as it swayed with amusement. One huge drop of rancid slurry fell from the liquidy creature and onto Trom. Almost smothered by the disgusting substance, he coughed and struggled to get his breath.
Croga rushed forward and dragged Trom from the mess.
“That’s it!” the New-Killer scowled. “Get lost. You’re boring me to meltdown point!”
The Shamrogues Page 11