The Sea-wreck Stranger

by Anna Mackenzie

  Ahead the headland curves in past the point before swelling outwards again to the west. In the sheltered wrinkle of coastline seabirds have made their nests. They must have played havoc with the fisherfolks’ washing, I think irrelevantly, watching a handful of black-backs wheel.

  When I reach the rookery, the birds set up a squalling, and I can do nothing but hurry through it. A gull dives on me as I pass too close to its nest and I wave it off with one arm. It’s a relief when I get away from them, and as well that it puts a curve of cliff between me and Jed. The thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t heard his friends talking sends me suddenly to my knees with my breath coming in tight gasps. I need a plan, but it’s as if my brain has flown off with the screeching gulls.

  Settling onto my haunches I drop my head between my knees and breathe, tasting the guano taint of the air. At last my pulse begins to settle and with it, my mind clears a little.

  It’s not enough to sit here and hide. Slowly I piece together in my head a map of the way I’ve come. I don’t know this part of the headland but I think Merryn’s farm must be slightly north and east of me, inland, with the wood and orchard somewhere between me and her farmyard. I need to find out exactly where I am, and from that try to calculate where Colm and his searchers might be.

  Climbing upwards I crest the hill that curves away above the cliffs and stare blankly at the unfamiliar landscape. Rough grassed slopes trail away before me with no sign of Merryn’s farm, or of any recognisable landmark. Shrugging away my uncertainty, I hurry on. Beyond the next rise the ground levels out and I catch a glimpse of trees to my right. Keeping well below the skyline I veer towards them, walking briskly, so that someone seeing me from a distance might assume I’ve every right to be here; that I’m one of them.

  One of the search party. One of the villagers eager to turn against Merryn. Dylan Larkey’s face looms in my thoughts, and with it his brother’s curse. Elsie has no care for the trouble she stirs up, enjoying whatever she can make of it, while Colm weighs and measures it all in terms of the advantage it might bring him. A surge of hate for them all wells up in me. I’m not one of them. I never could be. I know with certainty now that I will never truly belong here, not while Colm rules the Council. As soon as I’m within the shelter of the little copse of trees, I sit down on a log, my heart swollen to breaking inside my chest.

  Chapter 28

  ‘Ness.’

  The voice is low, so that I almost don’t hear it, or won’t let myself. When it comes again, I look around, cautious, as if I’m expecting a ghost.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he whispers.

  I stare. I could as easily ask the same. ‘Looking for you,’ I say at last. My throat is dry and I realise suddenly how thirsty I am. Dev is lying half hidden behind a fallen log not five paces from where I sit. ‘How did you get away from the search party?’ I ask. ‘I went to the ruins but they were there before me. They’re waiting for you to come back, though it’s only boys, so I doubt Colm expects you’ll return. There are men on the beach and across the headland,’ I add. ‘I don’t know how many.’

  Dev nods slowly. ‘I thought it must be searchers. I heard someone coming early this morning – it’s lucky I was awake and not in the ruins. I couldn’t sleep so I’d gone up to the old lookout tower to study the sea.’ An expression I can’t interpret crosses his face. ‘When I saw it wasn’t you I scrambled down the bank and followed the cliffs around, hoping I’d find some way down to the coast. There was none, not unless I could have sprouted wings,’ he adds, his lips curving into a grim smile. ‘I must want to survive more than I thought.’

  He came the same way as me. I can scarce believe my luck in finding him, or his, that he got away. ‘They found the blanket,’ I tell him. ‘They’ve guessed it’s yours.’

  Dev nods. ‘They’ll have found everything. I took nothing with me when I went up to the tower.’

  ‘Then it’s lucky you didn’t have much to lose,’ I say lightly, wishing he’d at least saved the water bottle and the tinder box; thinking that all he has left to lose now is his life.

  I let my eyes roam through the low branches around us, thinking how easily I might have gathered eggs in the nests and burrows on the cliff had my thoughts not been so firmly fixed on getting away from Jed. Eventually I spy a nest and crack half the clutch of tiny pale eggs into my mouth, handing the rest to Dev. They scarcely make a mouthful but I feel a little better all the same.

  ‘If they’re waiting at the ruins,’ Dev says, wiping a dribble of yolk from his lip, ‘it’s lucky you weren’t caught.’

  I shrug. ‘They’ll not give up,’ I tell him. ‘They’ll search the whole headland, and beyond probably. We have to get away.’

  Dev doesn’t answer, and the brief satisfaction the eggs gave me has already begun to fade. I shrug my pack from my shoulders and tip my belongings into my jacket, bundling it up and tying it as best I can before slinging the empty rucksack back across my shoulders. ‘I’m going to scout around,’ I say. ‘I won’t be long. You’d better stay here.’

  ‘I’ve little choice,’ Dev says. ‘My leg …’

  I look where he’s pointing. Fresh blood has stained his trousers around the jagged tear I patched for him. ‘It’s split open!’ I cry, staring dumbly. It had been healing so well! The strain of yesterday’s climb, together with his escape this morning, must have been too much. ‘Dev …’

  ‘Ness, you should leave me. If they find you with me, then …’

  I shake my head.

  ‘There’s no reason for them to know your part in helping me,’ he argues.

  I think of the wilful ignorance of the villagers and their eagerness to turn on Merryn just because she holds herself a little apart from their ways. I think about Colm’s arrogance and Jed’s spite.

  ‘There is,’ I say. ‘And they know already – Marn does anyway. He’s sending me away.’ Reaching for my bundle I pull out a blouse, the one I wear for best that Sophie made for me last gift-day, and tear it into strips. Dev says nothing as I tend the wound. It’s not as bad as I feared but blood still seeps slowly from between the broken scabs. It needs cleaning, but for that I’d need water. Keeping my face expressionless I bind his leg firmly.

  ‘I’m going for water, and food if I can find it,’ I say when I’m done.

  ‘Ness, if they find me –’

  ‘They won’t,’ I tell him, wishing I could believe it.

  ‘If you hear me whistle,’ he says, ‘don’t come back.’

  I nod and turn away. Out of the trees the sun is hot, beating a rhythm on my bare head as I follow the low hillside. I head roughly north-east, occasionally risking the skyline as I try to get my bearings. When I reach Merryn’s farmyard I’m thrown off balance, for I come upon it suddenly beyond a fold of hill, and I’m closer than I expected. It seems oddly unfamiliar at first, but I soon see that’s only because I’ve come on it from behind, inside out from the way I usually arrive. The orchard stands off to my right, the barn beyond. Merryn’s bee shed is directly in front of me, and beyond that, a little distance off, is the yard. The house is partly obscured but I can see the side windows and part of the porch.

  Lying flat on the hillside, I study the yard, trying to see what’s going on. It’s hours now since we met Pike and Dylan Larkey on the road; hours more, it seems, since Colm set out on his witch-hunt. If they’ve searched and found nothing they might already have moved on. They might even now be ranged out across the headland, creeping up on the copse where Dev lies helpless.

  I wiggle my way further along the hill so that I can see more of the yard, my breath catching in my throat at the sight of Marn’s wagon, Drake’s head hanging exhausted between the shafts. As I watch, a man crosses the yard. I can’t be sure from this distance but I think it’s one of the men who came with Colm to search the beach. He calls to someone out of sight then disappears into Merryn’s barn.

  They’re there then. My throat aches as I swallow. Merryn has not c
onvinced them of her innocence. I’ve no time for regret. I must trust Marn to protect Merryn – if I’ve not already compromised his credibility too far.

  Blinking fiercely I study the yard. The pump stands near Merryn’s kitchen door, too exposed by far. There’s a water butt by the wall of the barn but that, too, is beyond reach. There’s water in the orchard, but I’ve first to find some way of carrying it. There are bottles and crocks in Merryn’s bee shed.

  The grass tickles my face as I crawl back to my spot directly behind the little shed. It’s open ground between but there’s no one in sight. Bent low, I run the distance, arriving by the rear wall with my hands clammy with fear. The slats of the window are barely open but there’s no sound from within. Holding myself thin as I can I slide around the side of the shed. I can see directly into the yard, so that anyone crossing it could as easily see me. My hand finds a door knob and I turn it. The door gives a little and I push gently inwards.

  The shed is dark, with just the crack of light from the door where I’ve left it slightly open. There are dim shapes filling shelves along the wall opposite and a bench with tools stored on hooks above. The place smells musty and sweet. I move carefully to the bench and lift down a short blade, a hank of rope and a small axe, whispering an apology to Merryn as I stow them in my bag.

  The shelves near the window hold crocks and pots of honey and I dip a finger into the nearest. The sweetness hits my tongue with a burst but it does nothing for my thirst. I stow a small crock inside my bag and turn to the shelves above. A row of glass bottles stands high along the wall and I lift one down and sniff. It smells of honey. Merryn’s honey cordial, I think, taking a cautious sip – or something stronger. I add two bottles, then spy a stack unfilled below the bench. Water is what we need most. I tuck three of the empty bottles into my pack.

  The door behind me creaks on its hinges and I freeze. As it swings wide, a figure appears, backlit against the light. I squint, heart pounding. It’s Merryn. She stares a moment, as startled as I, then walks calmly inside and lifts down a bottle of cordial. I feel ready to burst in the silence but she catches my eye and shakes her head. There is someone outside. I hold my breath. More than anything I long to ask her what’s going on, but I daren’t. Without a word she turns and goes out, pulling the door to, but not shut, behind her.

  Voices retreat across the yard – Merryn letting me know they’re gone, I think. She’ll not give me away, and at least I know she’s all right, not a prisoner standing accused before Colm. But not free of him either.

  Merryn’s appearance has unsettled me. Taking a steadying breath I slip out the shed door and around to the back where I’m out of sight from the yard. I still need water. Away to my right lies the orchard. Digging my stubby nails into my palms I walk briskly across the gap, eyes straight ahead, trusting luck that no one will look my way.

  When I reach the trees my legs feel like to collapse under me but I’ve no time for such nonsense. There’s a lidded tank in the shade of the hedge and I hurry towards it. The water inside is stale but clean. I drink my fill then immerse the empty bottles. My stomach gurgles as the water reaches it and I take another mouthful before I turn to leave.

  Merryn stands behind me. I nearly cry out with fright, and fear, too, that anyone could come up on me so easily.

  ‘Here,’ she says, her voice low. ‘I don’t know what you’re doing Ness, and I don’t want to, but you have to get him away, this stranger, as soon as you can. For all our sakes.’

  The bag she gives me hangs heavy in my hand. A voice carries from the yard at her back and she glances over her shoulder. ‘You have to get off the headland. Head southeast. There’s a track beyond the ridgeline that leads down to an inlet.’

  There’s so much I’d like to say but I can’t get my tongue round any of it. ‘Thank you,’ I murmur.

  She doesn’t reply. Her shoulders are stiff and straight as she walks away.

  Chapter 29

  Dev greets me with relief when I get back. ‘You were gone so long, I thought you must have been caught. Ness, you should leave me – go home. It’s too dangerous here.’

  Ignoring his words I pass him a water bottle and open Merryn’s bag. She’s packed bread and barley-cakes, together with a bag of hazelnuts. I cut two hunks from the bread with my stolen knife, feeling a guilty pang. Merryn has always been good to me and my thanks is to steal from her. But with Marn on her side she should be safe. Colm has no evidence against Merryn, and I don’t intend to give him any.

  ‘We need to move on,’ I tell Dev. My foray has given me a sense of where we are. The road to Dun lies east, across open farmland. Merryn spoke of a track. ‘Dev, can you walk?’ I ask. ‘I can cut you a staff to take the weight off your leg.’

  He nods. I choose a straight, strong branch and cut it down with three quick strokes of Merryn’s axe. As the blade bites I flinch, but the wood is green and I doubt the sound will carry. Trimming it roughly I hand it to Dev. After a few steps he nods. ‘I’ll manage,’ he says. But I can see we’ll not get far.

  I have a sudden desperate urge to return to Merryn’s shed. If Colm’s men have already searched it, as surely they must have, they’re unlikely to look again. But if they did, and found us, then Merryn would be held accountable. It’s a risk I’m not prepared to take.

  Overhead the sky is clear with a shading of cloud to the west. There’s hours of daylight left in the day. It’d be better if we could wait here until dark but I daren’t. We’re too close by far to Merryn’s farm. With hasty fingers I stuff my belongings back into my rucksack alongside Merryn’s gifts, save the knife, which I slide into my boot. Dev watches me with a queer expression on his face. For a moment I think longingly of Ty’s tinderbox and blanket, and of the other things that might have made this journey easier, but there’s little point in lingering over regrets. We’re alive, and we’ve food and water.

  Scouting cautiously beyond the trees I beckon Dev on, watching critically as he hobbles forward. ‘We’ll cross this hilltop then drop into the valley beyond. Crossing the skyline will be the worst,’ I say. ‘The gully heads east, which is the way we want to go, until we reach the road. Then we’ll head south to Dun.’

  He nods, a film of sweat already beading his face. ‘Lead on,’ he says, ignoring my doubt.

  We make slow progress for half an hour and I know by then it’s hopeless. Dev’s face is set and his steps are growing slower. ‘Rest here while I scout ahead,’ I say, though there’s no shelter higher than a blade of grass.

  If there’s nothing over the next rise we may have to go back. We can’t stay on the hillside, exposed for all the world to see. Dev slumps to the ground without a word. I’ve barely gone three paces when I hear a shout behind us. A man’s voice, calling others. A sound of triumph.

  Spinning around, I scan the slope behind. They can’t have seen us – the call was too far away. It must be the copse. They’ll have found something, some sign – the cut end of the branch, or the crushed grass where Dev rested. A trace of blood maybe. They won’t know for certain that it’s us, I decide, nor which way we’ve gone. A shred of hope flickers in my belly.

  Dev’s eyes are fixed on my face when I turn. ‘Come on,’ I say.

  He shakes his head. ‘Run, Ness!’ he says. ‘Don’t get caught with me.’

  ‘We’re not caught yet,’ I tell him.

  With Dev at my shoulder I hurry on across the slope, trending downwards in the hope there’ll be shelter in the gully ahead. An image of Jed and Colm springs strong in my mind, with men fanning out around them like hounds.

  Suddenly Dev grunts in pain and I glance back to see him stumble and fall. He’s scarce hit the ground before I’m beside him, urging him up. He nods, his breathing hoarse, as he reaches for the staff. It’s only then that I see why he fell: the stick caught in an overgrown track, such as might be made by goats trailing in line around a hillside. The sight of it hits me hard, like a fist.

  ‘Quick,’ I tell him, reaching fo
r his arm. ‘Merryn said there was an inlet. Dev, come on!’

  Behind us the slope is clear and I pray we’ve left no trail. Dev grits his teeth and levers himself upright, his weight nearly pulling me over as he struggles to his feet. He looks worse than ever. I glance behind once then set off. My plan is hazy and the odds are slim, but it’s the best chance we’ve got.

  The thin trail stretches on across the curve of the hill. I set a pace I hope Dev can follow and he does his best, only once stumbling to his knees. I chafe at the seconds we lose as he recovers his breath. The afternoon around us is silent but I feel myself tensed, waiting for a shout.

  If only Merryn had given me some clue about how far away the inlet was. Dev can’t hold out much longer – even as I think it, he falls. As I bend to help him a movement catches the corner of my eye, a flash of colour on the hill behind. A man.

  Despair courses through me as I crouch waiting for the call. It doesn’t come. Perhaps I was wrong. Slowly I stand up, turning back the way we’ve come. A man I vaguely know from the summer fair, a farmer from beyond Wester, stands above me at the crest of the slope.

  He raises an arm. ‘Where’d you spring from?’ he calls. ‘I thought I was on the southern flank. Anything down that way?’

  I realise with a start that he can’t see Dev lying at my feet. The angle of the slope obscures him. His fall has saved us. ‘There’s nothing here.’ My voice wavers and I clear my throat.

  ‘You weren’t with us at the start,’ the man says slowly.

  ‘Pike and Dylan Larkey told us of the search this morning when we were on our way to Wester,’ I answer truthfully.

  The man considers a moment then shrugs. ‘The more, the better if you ask me,’ he answers. ‘You’re not alone, are you?’ Doubt sidles into his voice.