The Secret of the Dark Waterfall

by Alexander McCall Smith

  “And what did he say?” asked Rory. “Did he say sorry?”

  Ben nodded. “Sort of,” he said.

  Rory was about to ask another question when Mr Rigger called from the bow of the boat to “Ship oars!” – a command to Ben and Rory to stop rowing.

  “I think we’re in roughly the right place,” said Mr Rigger. “If you look over there, you can see the top of that hill in line with the far edge of the beach.”

  The boat sat immobile in the water. It was slack tide now, which meant that there were no currents moving them in any direction. From where he sat, Ben looked over the side, down into the water below. Somewhere not far below them was a Viking longboat – if the old fisherman’s diary was to be believed. And if the Viking longboat was there, then there could well be treasure too.

  Miss Worsfold had brought her diving equipment with her, and now she was preparing for an exploratory dive. She was wearing a black diving suit, as the waters could be cold, even in summer. On her back, now being strapped into position by Mr Rigger, was a large tank of oxygen.

  Everybody watched in fascination as Miss Worsfold made her final preparations. Diving is a dangerous activity, and it is important to be absolutely sure that everything is working correctly before you get into the water. Once submerged, a diver is at the mercy of the sea, and if anything goes wrong, the consequences can be fatal.

  “Ready?” asked Mr Rigger.

  Miss Worsfold gave a thumbs-up sign, and then, perching on the edge of the boat, she leant backwards, tumbling into the water with a loud splash. A second later she had disappeared under the surface, only a trail of tiny bubbles indicating that there was somebody there.

  Mr Rigger looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes,” he said. “That’s what she thinks she’ll need.”

  The minutes passed slowly. They were some distance from the shore, but were close enough to see a couple of herons standing completely still at the water’s edge, waiting for a careless fish to come within range of their long, sharp beaks.

  Ten minutes passed, then eleven, then twelve. Mr Rigger looked at his watch again.

  “Is she all right?” asked Poppy anxiously.

  “I’m sure she is,” said Mr Rigger. “Miss Worsfold is an experienced diver, you know.”

  “But what about the bends?” asked Thomas. “Isn’t that a danger?”

  Mr Rigger frowned. “The bends can be dangerous,” he said. “Divers who get the bends have to get medical help pretty quickly.”

  Rory wasn’t quite sure what the bends were, and asked Mr Rigger to explain.

  “It happens when you come up to the surface too quickly,” he said. “If you do that, then bubbles of gas can form in your blood and cause a lot of trouble. So you have to be careful and come up gradually.”

  Rory shuddered. He admired people who could dive under water, but he felt that it was not for him. People are not designed to go under water, he thought – just as fish are not designed to be on dry land.

  Suddenly there was a commotion in the water beside the boat. Huge bubbles broke the surface, followed by a glistening rubber cap, a face mask, and then the rest of a diver. Miss Worsfold was up.

  Ben and Thomas helped Miss Worsfold to get back into the boat while Mr Rigger stood by to take her oxygen tank and diving mask. Everyone was eager to find out what she had seen – if anything.

  “Is it there?” Mr Rigger asked.

  There was a moment of complete silence as they waited for Miss Worsfold to get her breath back.

  “Yes,” she said, her face breaking into a wide grin. “It’s there. I saw it.”

  Ben let out a whoop of delight. He had steeled himself for disappointment, and this was wonderful news. “Are you sure, Miss Worsfold?” he asked.

  “One hundred per cent sure,” she replied. “It’s covered in barnacles and weed, but the shape is unmistakable – it’s a Viking longboat.”

  Mr Rigger rubbed his hands together in glee. “We’ll have to organise further dives,” he said. “We shall need to explore the wreck properly.”

  Miss Worsfold continued, “I wouldn’t count on there being treasure, though.”

  Poppy had been listening intently; now her face fell. “But surely …” she began.

  Miss Worsfold explained. “As I said, I could make out the general shape under all the weed and barnacles,” she said. “But I didn’t see much else, I’m afraid.”

  Mr Rigger was not to be put off. “We can come back for a good look,” he said. “I’ll arrange for a diving team to be assembled. Matron likes diving, and Poppy, you’re a good diver – you could dive too if you like.”

  Poppy readily agreed. They hurried back to the Tobermory. A second dive could be fitted in the following day, but more equipment would have to be prepared and time would be needed to make plans.

  “I still think there might be treasure down there,” said Ben to Poppy as they reached the Tobermory. “The Vikings were known for stealing gold goblets and things like that. They would have transported their loot in their boats.”

  “And if a boat sank, the treasure sank with it,” said Poppy. “Is that what you’re saying, Ben?”

  Ben nodded. “Exactly.”

  Poppy was not so sure, but as a member of the diving team she would be among the first to find the treasure – if it were there. And even if it were not, it would still be interesting to see the wreck of a ship that had last sailed a thousand years ago. “This could be the biggest thing that’s ever happened on the Tobermory,” she said.

  Ben agreed. They had enjoyed numerous adventures on their school ship, but this trip was turning out to be one of the most exciting voyages they had ever made.

  At the same time, of course, the business with Badger was also making it one of the most troubling. Ben sighed. Badger’s note might have been the beginning of some kind of resolution, but there had been nothing more since then.

  Now, as he came aboard the Tobermory, he saw Badger standing at the stern with Geoffrey Shark. Without thinking, Ben waved to Badger. The other boy saw him – Ben was in no doubt about that – but then turned away as if Ben were not there.

  Kayaks at midnight

  “Now listen, everyone,” said Captain Macbeth later that evening.

  He was addressing the school in the mess hall, just before dinner, as he always did when there was an important announcement to make.

  “We’ve had some worrying news from the engine room,” he continued. “The Ship’s Engineer was inspecting the engines this afternoon and has discovered a serious fault. It’s going to take a few days at least to fix it. Even though we’re not far from Tobermory, we’re just going to have to stay put for the moment.”

  Poppy and Fee looked at each another. Usually the prospect of spending several days at anchor in the same place would not have appealed to them very much, but with Viking treasure to look for, this delay was an enormous stroke of luck.

  “We can’t go anywhere until the engines are back in working order,” Captain Macbeth continued. “So we shall just have to make the most of where we are. There are plenty of things to do on land around here.” He pointed out of one of the portholes in the direction of a large mountain which plunged right down to the shore of the loch. “Those of you who would like to try climbing can go up there. Mr Stevenson will arrange climbing classes.”

  Ben liked the idea of that, but Fee did not. She had no head for heights.

  “And there is a farm nearby where they would be very happy for a bit of help – for those of you who fancy yourselves as farmers.”

  Poppy liked the sound of doing that. Since her parents had a sheep farm in Australia, it would be interesting to spend some time on a Scottish farm. And Amanda Birtwhistle was keen on that as well. She had a soft spot for sheep, and she had already spotted some of them nibbling the seaweed at the shore of the loch.

  Not everybody was pleased with the activities on offer. William Edward Hardtack could be heard murmuring something about it all being
“a waste of time”, and Geoffrey Shark had a glum expression on his face. But they were never enthusiastic about any of the Captain’s plans, so their reaction came as no surprise.

  “Boring!” muttered Shark, in a voice that could only just be heard.

  Captain Macbeth looked up sharply.

  “Did I hear somebody say the word ‘boring’?” he asked, a note of anger coming into his voice. Captain Macbeth very rarely lost his temper. He was a fair man, who was always willing to see another person’s point of view, but at the same time he was the captain of a ship – and the captain of a ship cannot allow open complaining and disobedience. Those things, as all sailors know, can be the beginnings of mutiny.

  Nobody spoke.

  “Would the person who said that please put up their hand,” said the Captain sternly.

  But no hand went up. Along with several others, Ben had heard Shark’s remark, and looked across at the other boy to see if he would own up. But, like everyone else, Ben did not think he would.

  It was now clear that Captain Macbeth was not going to let the matter go. On any ship, you simply cannot have people answering back to the captain or being rude to any of the officers. You have to obey the captain because the safety of the whole ship might depend on that.

  Suddenly a hand went up, and the Captain looked out over the sea of heads to see whose it was.

  It was Badger’s.

  Captain Macbeth was staring at Badger. “Boring, is it, Tomkins?” he snapped. “Well, you’re not going to be bored tomorrow, young man,” he continued. “There are plenty of decks to be scrubbed.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Badger meekly, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

  Later that night, as they were lying awake in their cabin, waiting for sleep to overtake them, Ben and Rory discussed what had happened earlier in the mess hall.

  “Why did Badger own up to it?” mused Ben. “It wasn’t him at all.”

  “I know,” agreed Rory. “It was Shark. I heard him too. I suppose he must have wanted to cover up for him. I don’t understand why he would do that, but I can’t see any other explanation.”

  “Unless he was ordered to do it,” Ben said, the idea forming in his mind as he spoke. “Yes, maybe Hardtack ordered him to take the blame.”

  Rory said that he himself would never take the blame for what somebody else had done. And he would certainly never do anything that Hardtack told him to do.

  “Yes, but you’re not in his gang,” said Ben. “If you’re in a gang, you’d be frightened to disobey the leader. That’s how gangs work.”

  “Who’s frightened?” asked Rory, rather confused now and with a very worried look on his face.

  “Badger, of course,” replied Ben. As he said this, Ben thought it was Rory who seemed frightened. Ben remembered that when he had asked about Rory’s past the other boy had not told him much. It was as if he had been hiding something. Now Ben wondered whether he should ask Rory directly about his secret – if he had one.

  “Rory …” he began.

  “Yes?” came the hesitant reply from the other side of the cabin.

  “Are you running away from something?”

  It was a direct question – and sounded a bit more probing than Ben had intended. So he quickly added, “You don’t have to tell me, if you’d prefer not to.”

  For a while there was silence.

  Then Rory replied. “Since you ask, yes, I am.”

  “What is it?” Ben enquired.

  The answer astonished him.

  “Pirates.”

  Ben almost laughed. “Come on!” he exclaimed. “There aren’t any pirates these days. That’s all imagination. Storybook stuff – Captain Hook and all that.”

  Rory’s voice was firm. “No, Ben, that’s where you’re wrong. There are still pirates in some places. In the Caribbean, for example. And I saw them. I was a witness.”

  Ben waited, eager to hear more.

  “You see,” said Rory, “I used to sail with my father. He was the skipper of a big sailing boat. He used to charter it out to people who wanted to spend a week or two at sea. During the school holidays I would act as cabin boy – making up the bunks and stuff like that.

  “We were on a voyage one day,” Rory continued, “and we noticed that we were being followed by another boat. There were no other vessels around – just us and the other boat. It was faster than ours and it soon overtook us.”

  Ben listened in fascination.

  “They came on board,” Rory said. “And they took all our valuables. Watches, jewellery and money. They stole everything.”

  “And they got away with it?” asked Ben.

  Rory hesitated. “At first, but then they were caught when they were robbing another boat. They were put on trial back in Dublin, which is where they came from in the first place.”

  He paused. “I was the witness who identified them.”

  “And …?” prompted Ben.

  “And they were sent to prison … all except one of them – their leader. They couldn’t prove the case against him. He was let free.” Rory paused again, and then he took a deep breath and said, “He swore to get even with me.”

  Ben was astounded. He was beginning to understand why Rory had been so reluctant to say anything when Ben had asked him about his past.

  “The police said that I should be sent off somewhere safe,” he said. “My parents thought that best place for me would be a ship school – and so here I am.”

  Ben apologised for having quizzed Rory about his past. “If I had known,” he said, “I wouldn’t have asked you all those questions.”

  Rory said he did not mind. It was important, though, he added, that nobody else should know who he was and why he was on board the Tobermory. “It’s the biggest secret I have,” he said.

  “I promise I won’t tell anybody,” said Ben. “I really mean that, Rory.”

  “I trust you,” said Rory. And then he added, “Time for sleep, Ben. Good night.”

  Ben said goodnight, but stayed awake for some time after Rory had dropped off. He had heard the most extraordinary tale, but he would never repeat it to anybody. He had given his word, and he would keep it.

  Although Ben seldom had any trouble getting to sleep, he would often wake up if there was any unusual noise. This was never much of a problem, as he would usually drop back to sleep again within a few minutes. On board ship there are always plenty of noises at night, which means it is never entirely quiet. There are creaking sounds made by masts and ropes. There are gentle slapping sounds made by the waves as they break against the side of the ship. There are many other sounds too made by the wind and the water, but these are simply the constant accompaniment to life at sea.

  That night, just before midnight, Ben was woken up by an unusually loud noise. At first he wondered whether he had dreamt it. He rubbed his eyes and turned over to get back to sleep. But then he heard it again, and this time he knew straight away what it was: it was the sound of oars splashing in water.

  Ben slipped out of his hammock and made his way towards the porthole. The moon was high in the night sky, almost full, and it was bathing the sea and the surrounding hills in a pale, silver light. Not far away he could see the looming silhouette of the mountain that came right down to the shore against the lighter sky. It was the shape of a crouching lion, Ben thought. Everything was still – except for something moving in the water. As he peered out of the porthole and his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he could make out a small boat being rowed across the loch.

  He pressed his nose up against the porthole to see more clearly. His breath made the glass mist over, and he rubbed it with the sleeve of his pyjamas. Now he could see the shapes of two people in the boat. It was too dark to identify one of them. But there was no mistaking the other. In the half-tones of the moonlight, Geoffrey Shark’s fin-like hairstyle was unmistakable.

  What was Shark – and whoever was with him – doing rowing across the bay in the middle of the night? Just
as he was mulling over the answer to this question Ben noticed something else. At the far end of the bay, anchored off a small, tree-covered island was another boat – not a rowing boat or anything like that, but the sort of boat that would have five or six cabins and would be capable of sailing long distances across the open sea. Even with the assistance of the moonlight, it was not possible to make out much detail, but Ben saw lights on board. One of them must be a torch, as it seemed to be flashing out a message. He drew in his breath. From the rowing boat came a quick succession of long and short flashes: Shark was replying.

  It was obvious that something very strange was going on, and Ben thought he should wake Rory to tell him about it.

  “Rory,” he whispered, placing a hand on his cabin-mate’s shoulder. “Wake up, Rory. Something’s going on.”

  If Ben was a light sleeper, then Rory was the opposite. It took a good bit of shaking before Rory opened his eyes and looked up at Ben in confusion.

  “What is it?” he muttered. And then, as he struggled up through layers of sleep, he added, “Is it morning already?”

  Ben told him what he had seen. Rory was now fully awake, and after slipping out of his hammock, he crossed the cabin to the porthole and looked out. “It’s Shark!” he exclaimed. “I’d recognise that stupid hairstyle anywhere.”

  “I know,” said Ben. “And he’s been signalling to that boat over there.”

  Rory turned to Ben. “I think we should go over ourselves and see what’s going on,” he said.

  “How?” asked Ben. “They’ve taken the rowing boat, and the other boats are all stacked away.”

  Rory thought for a few moments before he came up with a solution. “Kayaks,” he announced. “There are two kayaks on deck. We could get them into the water without making any noise. They’re not heavy.”

  The kayaks were special covered canoes that were popular with the students on board the Tobermory. Seated in a kayak, with a double-bladed paddle in your hands, you can cut quickly – and silently – through the water. If they kept far enough back, and their paddling was quiet enough, Ben and Rory would be able to follow Shark’s boat without being seen or heard.