by Robin Jarvis
Ben was not sure—it didn’t look safe at all. Taking a deep breath in case he fell into the water, he stepped out. With a bump, he found himself sprawled in the boat at Hesper’s feet. He pulled himself up gingerly as the vessel tilted from side to side.
Hesper laughed. ‘There, that caused you no hurt, did it?’ She looked up at Nelda. ‘Now you, child.’
But her niece was not looking at them. She had turned away and was staring into the chamber. Hesper frowned. What was she up to? At that moment the clamour of angry voices burst into the night and Hesper realised that the rest of the tribe had arrived.
On the threshold Nelda faltered as the fisher folk poured in. There were thirty-five of them, the sole survivors of the aufwader race. They made no attempt to rush forward but shouted and screamed their contempt. She was caught. Trapped by the aufwader snare, she could neither speak nor run. Nelda had never seen them stirred to such anger before; the light in their eyes was terrifying.
Abruptly the noise died down and the crowd parted, making a clear path down the centre. ‘Esau approaches,’ they whispered reverently.
Through the assembled fisher folk moved a single figure: Esau, oldest of the ruling triad. His face was withered and the burden of eight centuries lay heavily upon his gnarled brow. Thick white whiskers trailed from his chin, knotted and threaded with stones and shells. Seaweed twined amid his bristling hair and hanging about his neck was a single pearl. Of all the elders he was the most respected. He seldom spoke—only in the direst emergencies, when judgements or important decisions were needed, had he been known to utter a word.
Grimly, and with his twisted back bowed by age, he crept closer. Nelda watched dumbly as he halted just three paces in front of her. The atmosphere was tense. Everyone held their breath and waited for him to proclaim the judgement.
Nelda knew that the elders had the power of life or death over wrongdoers. It was a power they rarely wielded, as such a severe punishment was reserved for only the most heinous crimes like murder or treason. An ice-cold dread stole over her—in the condemning eyes of Esau she had betrayed the tribe.
In silence, the elder raised his wizened arm and pointed an accusing finger at her. ‘Treachery!’ came his cracked old voice. ‘Thou art a traitor to thy kind.’ His words rang harshly round the chamber and he waited for the echo to die down before turning his back on her. ‘All bear witness to my judgement,’ he cried. ‘Henceforth the line of Tarr is banished from this place—let no one give them aid.’
Everybody hissed and began to stamp on the ground. At that moment Nelda felt the snare release her, but instead of leaping into the boat below she rounded on Esau. ‘Be silent, you old fool!’ she shouted defiantly.
Everyone gasped at this disgraceful behaviour—had she no respect? ‘Insolence!’ they roared.
But she had not finished with him yet. She stood her ground and cried, ‘For years we have hidden away from the world and bemoaned our lot. Our numbers have dwindled, and why? All you elders can do is huddle together, despising any who try to bring about change.’ She threw back her head and proclaimed triumphantly, ‘Tonight the moonkelp blooms, and when we find it the curse of the Deep Ones will be lifted for ever.’
Esau stared at her incredulously. ‘It cannot be so,’ he muttered. ‘It is but a legend. The moonkelp does not exist.’
Nelda snapped her fingers at him. ‘Yes it does. Long Whiskers,’ she said.
‘Impudent whelp!’ snapped the elder. For a moment he glared at her, then he relaxed and said with a shrewd smile, ‘Very well, child. If thou do indeed bring back the treasure of the Deep Ones, I shall lift my judgement. But if thee return empty-handed, then expect the full measure of my wrath and abide by my decision.’
Nelda agreed. ‘So be it,’ she said, and with that she leapt off the threshold.
Hesper chuckled and rowed away from the cliff. ‘Well done, Nelda,’ she said. ‘Imagine Old Parry’s face when we succeed.’ The two aufwaders looked back to the cliff entrance where the tribe was watching them leave and laughed. Then Hesper turned to Ben. ‘Tell me,’ she asked. ‘Just where may we find the moonkelp?’
Ben bit his lip; he had been dreading that question. ‘I don’t know,’ he answered flatly. ‘Out here somewhere, I suppose.’
Jennet, Miss Boston and Sister Bridget ran down the alleys that led to the beach. Most of the summer visitors were snugly downing their final pints in the pubs, but those that were still wandering in the streets stared at the novice with goggling eyes. She was certainly a striking figure, with her dark-green hair streaming behind, stark against the dazzling whiteness of her habit.
Jennet saw how the people were staring. The last thing they wanted was a crowd of spectators following them, so she smiled at every passer-by and said in a casual voice, ‘Fancy dress,’ That seemed to satisfy everybody and they reached the sands of Tate Hill Pier with no one in tow.
It was quiet on the gloomy shore. Sheltered by the two piers, the waves which were driven on to the sand were small and gentle.
‘Will we require a boat for this?’ asked Miss Boston, eyeing the dark water uncertainly.
Sister Bridget said nothing but stared out beyond the harbour entrance towards the horizon. The old lady followed her gaze. Something was slowly moving over the water; it was a strange, hazy sight and she wished she had brought her binoculars with her.
Jennet also looked, but although her vision was stronger than Aunt Alice’s, it was not as sensitive. What she saw made her shake her head and look again. It appeared to be a small figure hovering over the surface of the sea. Jennet was taken aback, but when she turned her eyes upon it a second time she saw that the figure was actually sitting in a little boat.
‘It is an aufwader vessel,’ said Sister Bridget unexpectedly. Her sight was the keenest of the three and quickly she identified those on board. ‘I see two of their folk,’ she murmured. ‘One wears an oilskin hat, the other is younger, and beside her there is a human child.’
‘Is it Ben?’ asked Jennet.
The novice nodded. ‘Yes,’ she confirmed, ‘it is your brother. They are searching for the moonkelp—they will never find it without my guidance.’
‘Then we must attract their attention,’ said Miss Boston excitedly. ‘Soon they will pass out of sight. Come along.’ With her cloak flapping madly, she ran over the sand to the pier and clambered up the few stairs which led on to it. Along the flat stretch of stone she scurried, unwinding the scarf from her neck and waving it madly in the air. ‘Hello!’ she called to the boat in the distance. ‘Hello, Benjamin!’
Jennet caught up with the old lady just as she had reached the end of the pier.
‘Jump up and down. Jennet dear,’ cried Aunt Alice desperately. ‘They must see us.’
‘Do not worry,’ came the voice of Sister Bridget as she joined them. ‘Look—the boat has changed course.’
Gradually the small aufwader vessel came closer. It was Hesper who had seen them and she gazed curiously at the tall figure dressed in white.
Miss Boston let out a great breath of relief and wrapped the scarf about her neck once more. Eagerly she waited as the boat drew near. ‘How splendid,’ she cooed when she discerned the two strange figures beside Ben. She had never before had the chance to examine an aufwader closely, and it was a thrilling prospect. The craft bumped against the side of the pier far below and Aunt Alice stooped and glanced over the side. ‘Oh, what a pity,’ she tutted in disappointment. To her the fisher folk were still blurred and fuzzy. ‘Botheration,’ she tutted.
Jennet had watched the boat approach with mounting concern. The poor girl could not see the aufwaders at all; the only things real to her were Ben and the boat. She had no idea how the vessel was being steered or how the oars moved through the water. Her brother looked up at her and waved cheerfully. ‘Just you wait,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘I’ll teach you to run off like that.’
Miss Boston pattered along the pier to where iron rungs were set into t
he stone. ‘Come up here, you little marvels,’ she shouted at the fisher folk.
Hesper and Nelda stared up at the old lady and the girl on the pier. Nelda was not sure if this was such a good idea. She leaned over to her aunt and said, ‘We waste precious time here. I still do not see why you were so set on this—the moonkelp must be our main concern.’
‘So it is,’ Hesper replied, ‘so it is.’ She gave her niece the oars and stood up in the boat to see if she could get a peek at the figure who had so fired her interest. Above her, Sister Bridget appeared and gazed down. ‘As I thought,’ nodded Hesper. ‘Look, Nelda. Now do you see?’
Nelda looked at the novice and immediately saw the faint shimmering aura that surrounded her. Confused, she turned to her aunt for an answer to this riddle.
‘Behold the daughter of Oona,’ Hesper announced, ‘after all this time. Hurry, Nelda, take us to the ladder.’
The oars dipped into the sea and swiftly Nelda brought the boat alongside the lowest rung. Hesper checked that her lifebelt was secure then clambered up. Ben was not sure if he should follow. He was certain that if he tried to stand up in the boat it would probably capsize.
‘Delighted to meet you,’ chatted Miss Boston as Hesper climbed up beside her. ‘And whom do I have the honour of addressing, may I ask?’
‘There is no time for that,’ interrupted Sister Bridget suddenly. ‘Only an hour remains. I must take your place in the boat.’ She brushed past Hesper and began to climb down the ladder.
The aufwader fell to her knees and called after her, ‘Eska, Eska—you must not venture on the open sea!’
Sister Bridget paused in the descent and threw her head back. The face she turned to her was pale but grim. ‘I no longer recognise that name,’ she said, trembling. ‘For many years I have been Bridget and that I will remain—whatever happens.’ She looked away and concentrated on the rungs of the ladder once more.
When she reached the bottom, the novice glanced at the deep water all around and shuddered. Nelda and Ben stared at her from the boat in surprise. ‘Are you really the daughter of Oona?’ asked Nelda.
‘For my sins,’ she returned solemnly. ‘Now hold the craft steady and make room for me.’
Nelda and Ben squashed themselves against the sides of the boat. ‘You coming with us, then?’ asked the boy.
Clinging to the ladder with one hand. Sister Bridget crossed herself and replied, ‘If my courage allows.’ With her heart pounding in her breast, she reached out her foot and stepped into the aufwader vessel.
Ben gripped the sides in alarm as the boat rocked uncontrollably. Sister Bridget cast her eyes despairingly upon the surrounding water. For the first time in her long life she was putting herself at the mercy of the waves. It was a chilling sensation. She knew full well the consequences if she were to fall in—the Lords of the Deep would claim her.
‘Hurry, child,’ she called to Nelda. ‘I shall be your guide now.’
Nelda put the oars into the water and struggled to pull away from the pier. High over their heads Jennet called to her brother, ‘Be careful, Ben!’ He gave an answering shout and the boat sailed out on to the dark wide sea.
Miss Boston put her arm around the girl’s neck. ‘Don’t worry, dear,’ she said. ‘He is in excellent hands.’
Hesper stamped her foot with irritation. ‘All this time I have wandered the shores to find it!’ she snorted. ‘Now I shall never see the moonkelp.’
They watched the little craft move away, so engrossed that they failed to hear the footsteps which approached from behind.
Miss Boston smiled at the blurred shape next to her. ‘You have played your part,’ she told the aufwader. ‘Now it is up to them.’
‘All the same,’ added Hesper quietly, ‘I would wish that Eska had remained here—the sea is no place for her.’
Miss Boston disagreed. ‘Oh no,’ she replied mildly, ‘she had to go. Not just because she knew where to find the moonkelp, you understand. No, Sister Bridget has endured her entire life for this one night—it’s what she was born for. I pray she survives.’
Hesper bowed her head. ‘Poor Oona, I wish she had brought her daughter to me—I would have gladly left the tribe to look after her.’
‘Things are as they should be,’ muttered Aunt Alice darkly.
Jennet had taken her eyes from the boat which was now in the distance and had been listening to this exchange with growing annoyance. To her it was a one-sided conversation. Not only could she not see Hesper, but all that she said escaped her hearing.
‘What a charming little scene,’ a sneering voice broke in.
The three of them whirled round. Silhouetted against the lights of Whitby was Rowena Cooper.
13 - Struggle At Sea
The woman was dressed in black robes which were tied round the middle by a thick purple cord. On a chain about her neck she wore a five-pointed star that gleamed against the midnight material. She played with the amethyst ring on her finger and mocked the group before her, laughing at the dismay on their faces.
‘A child, a shore vagrant and a senile old woman,’ she spat contemptuously. ‘What a ridiculous combination.’
Hesper moved forward, bewildered. ‘Yet another human with the sight,’ she said. ‘Is the gift not as rare as once it was?’
Miss Boston put her hand on the aufwader’s shoulder. ‘Beware,’ she whispered, then cleared her throat and said aloud, ‘I do believe Mrs Cooper is showing her true colours at last. What do you think. Jennet? A little too crude for my taste, perhaps, but then what can one expect from a black witch?’
‘A witch?’ repeated Jennet and she gaped at Rowena. The woman seemed to have grown. In her black robes, she was like a great dark cloud. Even Aunt Alice seemed to have shrunk in comparison.
Miss Boston folded her arms. ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Mrs Cooper—though I doubt if that is her real name—has been using her treacherous arts from the moment she arrived.’
Hesper removed her oilskin hat. ‘Is there such a breed left in the world of man?’ she asked in astonishment.
Rowena sneered at her and moved a little closer. She was now effectively blocking the way back and they were caught between her and the end of the pier. She glared at the horizon, the boat now only a small speck upon it, and tossed her head with anger.
‘They are out of your reach now,’ smiled Miss Boston blithely. ‘I’m so sorry, but we couldn’t wait, you see.’
Rowena hissed venomously at her, ‘Old crone, I am not defeated yet!’ She took a step nearer, forcing them dangerously close to the pier edge—one quick shove and they would all topple backwards. The woman seemed to consider this for a moment, flexing her fingers with anticipation, but for some reason she decided against it and, instead, cupped her hands around her mouth. ‘Gull!’ she shrieked. ‘Come here, Gull!’
Hesper clutched her hat anxiously. With wide eyes she watched as a short figure hurried along the pier towards them. The leering aufwader, knife in hand, ran to Rowena’s side and licked his brown teeth. He shot a despising glance at Hesper and wiped his nose on his sleeve. She could only stare at him, utterly horrified, as the truth dawned.
‘Cat bit yer tongue, Hesper?’ he asked. ‘Not like you, that—always ‘ad a word or three t’say, you did. Ain’tcha glad t’see me, then?’
Hesper’s heart grew cold. ‘Hello, Silas,’ she said eventually. ‘I thought you were dead.’
‘Hoped I was, ya mean!’ he laughed. ‘But that’s what I wanted yer to think.’
She looked at his gansey—it belonged to Nelda’s father. ‘Never was there a more loathsome worm,’ she said. ‘I curse the day I wed you, Silas Gull.’
He spat on the ground. ‘Dunna fret yerself, me darlin’. Abe weren’t worth any tears. Poked ‘is nose a bit too far into my affairs—‘e ‘ad to be kept quiet.’
‘So you took his life and robbed his clothes,’ she said with disgust. ‘The black boat which we burned contained my brother, yet his name has become reviled by
the tribe.’
Silas chuckled maliciously. ‘Hah, I ‘oped it would. Serve ‘im right I says, fer all them times ‘e shamed me.’ He grinned and added in a whisper, ‘Listen to this, Hesper my love. If I ‘ad the chance I would gladly throttle your ‘oly brother nine times over.’
Hesper flew at him. Whipping out one of her little fishing poles she beat Silas on the side of his head.
Her husband fell back but immediately sprang to his feet and flourished the knife before him. ‘No one does that t’me no more!’ he yelled.
‘Enough!’ snapped Rowena suddenly. She seized Silas’ knife and threw it into the water below. He rounded on her but the look in the witch’s eyes daunted him. ‘There will be time for this later,’ she barked. ‘But first things first.’ Rowena pointed out to sea. ‘Out there that halfbreed could already be claiming the wish. You must stop her!’
‘What d’yer expect me t’do?’ he asked. ‘We ain’t got no boat, ‘ave we?’
‘You can swim, can’t you?’ Rowena snarled back at him.
Silas stared at the black, uninviting water and shivered. ‘I’m not goin’ in theer!’ he said firmly.
‘You will do precisely what I command!’ shouted Rowena, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. ‘I haven’t put myself through all this for nothing. If we don’t find it tonight then neither of our lives shall be worth living. But know this. When my husband discovers that I have been plotting behind his back, rest assured that before he arrives to tighten the leash about my neck I shall dine off your putrid flesh.’ With a fierce push, she thrust him over the edge and he tumbled into the sea.
Silas floundered in the waves. His whiskers were plastered over his spluttering face and he looked like a drowned weasel. Coughing up the brine, he glowered at Rowena, hating her yet fearing her more.
‘Bring the moonkelp back to me,’ she called down to him.