'Well, yes, take it, by all means. But you might need to give it a bit of a dust.'

a.n.u.sha wrapped the mask carefully in an old tea towel and it joined the logbook and the borrowed CD in Zaki's rucksack. Then they made themselves a picnic lunch to take with them to the boat.

Chapter 17.

It was the sort of September day that seems to have borrowed its weather from mid-July; there was no wind to speak of and the sun shone out of a clear blue sky. Sitting beside a.n.u.sha, while the bus wound its way through the lanes to Salcombe, Zaki felt rather self-conscious in his school clothes on a Sat.u.r.day, and, despite the sunshine streaming in through the bus window, he kept his jacket zipped up over his pale blue school sweatshirt. He could feel the slight weight of the bracelet in his jacket pocket.

'What if Curlew Curlew is still anch.o.r.ed near your boat?' asked a.n.u.sha as they walked from the bus to the boat shed. Zaki had been wondering the same thing, but they needn't have worried. is still anch.o.r.ed near your boat?' asked a.n.u.sha as they walked from the bus to the boat shed. Zaki had been wondering the same thing, but they needn't have worried.

'She's long gone,' Grandad told them.

'Up the estuary, or out to sea?' asked Zaki.

'Out to sea. Only one person aboard, far as I could tell.'

Zaki fetched Morveren Morveren's cabin key from the nail by the door, lifejackets for himself and a.n.u.sha and the oars for the dinghy. Grandad offered to tow the dinghy out with the launch, but Zaki replied that a.n.u.sha could do with the rowing practice.

'That shoulder of yours all right for rowin'?'

'Seems to be fine,' Zaki replied nonchalantly.

Grandad raised a quizzical eyebrow but let it go at that.

'If you intend leavin' the dinghy on Morveren Morveren, fly the mermaid when you want fetchin'.' 'The mermaid' was a large square flag with a mermaid on it. 'Flying the mermaid' was the family's way of letting those ash.o.r.e know that they were wanted onboard. During holidays, when the mermaid was run up the mast, it was the signal that lunch was ready and that Zaki and Michael should stop whatever they were doing and get back to the boat. Zaki's mum had made the flag. This summer it hadn't been flown.

They had the tide with them until they were level with the harbour office, but as soon as they headed out across the estuary the ebb swept them sideways and they had to pull hard at their oars to make the moorings by the opposite sh.o.r.e. However, Zaki's newly healed shoulder allowed him to use both arms to row and he and a.n.u.sha were a well-balanced pair, matching stroke for stroke, so they were soon aboard Morveren Morveren with the dinghy tied to the yacht's stern. with the dinghy tied to the yacht's stern.

It was the first time a.n.u.sha had seen inside Morveren Morveren's cabin. Every detail that was so familiar to Zaki was new to her. She was amazed at how many things had been dovetailed into such a small s.p.a.ce. Eventually, when a.n.u.sha had made a thorough inspection of every nook and cranny and Zaki had satisfactorily answered all her questions, they settled themselves at the saloon table and opened the logbook.

The first entry was dated 15th October 1907 and gave details of a day's oyster dredging in the Carrick Roads including notes on the size and quant.i.ty of oysters harvested. Similar entries continued throughout the autumn and winter months mostly oyster-dredging but some days the boat had been used for fishing. There was no mention of crew, so the skipper must have worked alone.

Occasionally, in the margin beside an entry, there was a drawing of a dolphin. Around a third of the way through the book the short log entries stopped. Zaki flicked forward through the remaining pages. They were all filled with the same neat, sloping handwriting. It appeared to be one long entry.

'What's this all about?' a.n.u.sha wondered.

'Only one way to find out,' Zaki replied, turning back to the page where the entry began.

Heads together, their elbows on the table, they settled down to read.

Chapter 18.

1st March 1908 Oh Una where are you? If only I could talk to you. If only I could ask your forgiveness for what I have done. But I did it to stay near you you must know that or as near to you as I can be. No no, perhaps it is you who should ask me for forgiveness! After all, it was you who deserted me.

Yes, I went back. Yes, I took some of the more valuable pieces that I had hidden. And yes, yes! I know they are for ever stained with blood the blood of other innocent people. It would have been so much easier to have died along with our parents the night of the wreck. You saved us. You see? It was you! You really are to blame! I don't mean that. You know I don't mean that. But why save me and then leave me on my own, trapped in this life? It was cruel of you, Una, so cruel.

I know you are sometimes not far away. That is why I bought this boat. And some days you come to play. It is you? You and your friends?

Yes, Una, I went back and I took a few valuables. And I know I swore I would not, but how else could I get the money for the boat? Now I have blood on my hands.

And I have nightmares. I should never have gone back to that cursed rock. I dream every night that I am him again and I am on that beach, killing, killing, killing. I think I will go mad. There is no one I can talk to. I am becoming confused. Even during the day I sometimes wonder who I am. Is it possible I once had a normal life was a young girl with loving parents and a sister? Una, what shall I do?

Yes, Una, you are right. How sensible of you. You always were the clever one. I must set it all down. I must start from the beginning. Get it clear in my poor, confused head. That is the thing to do. I will imagine I am telling a stranger, somebody kind and patient who listens and asks no questions, somebody and this is important somebody who is capable of believing the unbelievable.

Dear Stranger (may I call you that?) how should I start? Shall I tell you who I am? Yes, since we have not met before, I should introduce myself. My name is Rhiannon Davies. I have a twin sister named Una. We were born in June under the twin sign of Gemini and were so alike that even our parents had difficulty telling us one from the other. (Our parents! Oh, Una, I'm beginning to forget what they looked like!) I'm sorry let me continue. Our father was the Reverend Bryn Davies, our mother Gwyneth Davies.

Our father believed that G.o.d wished him to be a missionary, to preach the Word in those dark corners of the world where it had not been heard. And it was this belief that propelled our little family of four in the spring of 1851, with our few possessions and a great many Bibles, from the Welsh Valleys to a tropical paradise, where there were already a good many G.o.ds and where my father was amazed to discover that his own G.o.d had been known since the time of St Thomas, although considered to be no greater than any of the others.

We arrived in Ceylon, or Serendip as the ancients called it, soon after Una and I had celebrated our ninth birthday, and we remained there for a little over five years. While our father and mother were engaged in 'civilising the natives' and 'steering them away from their dark superst.i.tions', the natives were engaged in steering us, their children, towards those very same dark beliefs and practices. Our chief instructor in this was the local Edura (or 'idolatrous witch doctor' as our father called him), a kindly old man who, when not driving out demons, cast bronze statues of G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses and of all the local saints, and made bells and cymbals for ritual dances.

It is the belief, in those parts, that there exists a host of different demons and that every illness and misfortune is caused by a particular one of them. It is the Edura's duty to determine which demon is the cause of each affliction and then, through the terrifying Yak.u.m Natim or Devil Dances, in the disguise of that very demon, to persuade it to leave the body of the sufferer.

Every day, as soon as our mother had finished giving us our morning lessons, my sister and I would scamper off to the Edura's. There we would squat in the heat and semi-darkness, watching him work and listening, wide-eyed, to his tales of the Yakka, or demons, and the many tricks and ruses he had used to overcome them. All around us, on the walls, lit by the red, flickering glare from the hearth, hung the masks of the Yakka, their faces twisted and distorted in cruel reflection of the diseases they caused: Naga Sanni Yakka, bringer of nightmares; Kori Sanni Yakka, the paralyser; Amuku Sanni Yakka, green-faced inflictor of stomach ills; Dala Sanni Yakka, causer of whooping cough; Riri Yakka, the fearsome blood demon; Kola Sanni Yakka, leader of the devils, and all the rest of his ghastly retinue.

The Edura worked stripped to the waist, his old skin, like creased leather, moving over the protruding bones of his arms and ribs as he shaped an image in wax or fanned the coals to a white heat to melt metals for casting. From time to time he would pause and point a finger at one of the masks, cackling as he recounted the ways in which he had outwitted this or that demon.

Best of all was to watch as the Edura cast a new G.o.d or G.o.ddess; the hot, smoking wax pouring out; the molten metal pouring like liquid fire from the crucible into the mould and then the miracle of the moment when the lithe, beautiful, dancing body of the G.o.d broke from its clay sh.e.l.l. What chance had my father's dry sermons and crucified G.o.d against this astonishing marriage of heaven and h.e.l.l?

Some days when we went to the Edura's hut we would find him beneath his favourite tree, legs crossed, face serene, deep in meditation. We would settle ourselves on either side of him, copy his pose and see which of us could sit for the longest. Una always won. I would begin to yawn, then to fidget, and soon I would run off to find something else to do.

Who knows how long we would have remained in Ceylon had we not fallen ill? Always doing everything together, Una and I succ.u.mbed to fever on the same day. My mother nursed, my father prayed, but our condition rapidly worsened. Our bodies seemed on fire one moment and frozen the next; one moment the sweat poured from us, soaking the bed sheets, the next we were seized by such shivering that our teeth rattled in our heads. We could eat nothing and soon we sank into delirium. Our father, fearing the worst, set out on the three-day overland journey to the coast in the hope of finding a doctor, but each day he was away we grew weaker until finally, in desperation, our mother turned to the Edura. The old man came and stood at our bedside. He bent low over each of us and smelt our breaths, then nodded; he knew this devil well one of the worst, Riri Yakka, Demon of Blood. This devil drove a hard bargain; the price would be high. My mother cried that she would give anything, anything if our lives could be spared. The Edura said he would do his best. We must be brought that night to the clearing behind his hut; he would go and make the necessary preparations.

When darkness fell, we were carried out and laid in the clearing. Flaming torches were lit and the drumming began; slow at first, a single drum with a beat like a pounding heart. Then the rhythm quickened, other drums joined and the circle of drummers closed in around us, hands and sticks beating faster, whipping the air until it throbbed with a pulse that deafened our ears and convulsed our bodies.

Suddenly there was silence and the circle broke. There stood the Edura, his back to us, his face hidden. The old man's body was transformed: bronze and silver bracelets encircled his arms and legs; muscles swelled where the skin had once sagged; his back was straight as a rod of iron; from our position on the ground, he seemed twice his previous height. Then, quick as a cat, as all the drums roared into life, he spun round and leapt towards us, his face hideously disfigured by the Yakka mask. As we watched, terrified, the mask was no longer a thing carved in wood, but alive and moving, a devil incarnate. The Edura had become the Yakka and he was about to devour us!

Shaking and screaming, we clung to each other on the ground as the monster descended. Saliva poured from its jaws. Its eyes flashed and flamed. Clawed hands plunged through our flesh and tore dark, smoking forms from each of our bodies. We lay twitching in the dirt, emptied like gutted fish, as the drums pounded and the battle of the demons raged above us in the resin-filled, smoky torchlight. Then it was over. The demons fled. The drummers vanished. All was silent except for the sputtering of the dying torches.

We sat up and looked at each other. The fever had gone. The warm night air enfolded us. The smoke cleared and the stars glittered. A little breeze sprang up and rattled the palm fronds. And then our mother was helping us to our feet, supporting us, guiding us home and repeating over and over, 'Thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d,' as the tears streamed down her face.

Of course, after that, my father's mission could not continue the local G.o.ds and demons had triumphed. All knew that the missionary's wife had begged the help of the Edura. All could see that the Edura had succeeded where my father had failed. What could my father do but pack up his family and return to Wales?

In the days before we left, my sister and I were forbidden to visit the Edura, but we could think of doing nothing else; it was as if an invisible cord tugged at something deep within us, drawing us towards his hut. We fidgeted through our morning lessons, sulked on the veranda in the sweltering heat of the afternoons or plucked peevishly at the luxuriant plants that grew in the garden. But when we were certain no one was observing us we scuttled to that forbidden place. Furtively, we crept to the rear of the building, where a hole in the thatched wall afforded us a view of the Edura bent over his crucible, into which he was dropping small fragments of copper and other metals. He turned and lifted something small, wrapped in a piece of cloth, from the low table by the wall. He carefully unwrapped the little parcel and lifted up a fine silver chain from which dangled the simple silver cross that always hung around our mother's neck. We both gasped and then, fearful that he would detect us, held our breaths. What was he doing with our mother's precious cross? Had he stolen it? Had she given it to him? If she had, what could this possibly mean? Gently, he lowered the cross and then the chain into the molten metal in the crucible. We pressed our faces closer to the hole, eager to see what would happen next, but we were suddenly seized from behind by two strong hands that dragged us from the wall. We found ourselves, in the next instant, confronting our father, whose face was purple with rage.

We were only to see the Edura one more time and that was on the day that we departed for the coast. Our father had gone ahead and we were preparing to follow with our mother on the ox cart with all our possessions. As the cart began to move, the Edura emerged from the shadows and pressed something into our mother's hands with an instruction that I could not overhear. She quickly hid whatever he had given her in a bag that she kept with her for the rest of the journey.

Five days later we boarded the barque Persephone Persephone and set sail for England. As the palm-fringed sh.o.r.es dropped away, I felt as Eve must have felt when the angel of the Lord drove her from the garden of Eden; I was losing my paradise, but I was not to know that this ill-omened ship was carrying us into h.e.l.l! and set sail for England. As the palm-fringed sh.o.r.es dropped away, I felt as Eve must have felt when the angel of the Lord drove her from the garden of Eden; I was losing my paradise, but I was not to know that this ill-omened ship was carrying us into h.e.l.l!

For us children, the pa.s.sage home was long, the monotony of the many weeks at sea only broken occasionally by the sight of dolphins that came to leap and play about our ship. Some sixth sense seemed to tell my sister, Una, when the dolphins were coming and she would hurry us all on deck to watch them.

The weather was, on the whole, fair and, although we encountered large seas when rounding the Cape of Good Hope, there were no serious storms until we had crossed the Bay of Biscay. Then, as we approached the English coast, the skies darkened, the seas rose and the ship was struck by a sudden and violent squall. Our first sight of England was just before nightfall when a headland, that the ship's master took to be Lizard Point, was briefly visible through the driving rain. As the sun set, the storm increased in ferocity. Now each black wave that rushed upon our ship was crowned with a crest of foaming white and towered like a toppling mountain above the deck. Each wave seemed certain to overwhelm us. The motion of the ship grew ever more extreme and the sound of the storm rose to a deafening crescendo.

Now the waves swept across the decks. The longboat was carried away into the blackness of the night together with the unfortunate crewmen who bravely threw themselves in its path in a desperate attempt to save it. With a terrible splintering crash a hatch cover was breached and a dark, freezing torrent cascaded into the cabin where we two girls clung to our mother, believing that every moment would be our last. All hands above ran to man the pumps while our father exalted us to fall to our knees and pray to the Lord for our deliverance. It was clear to all that if we could not reach shelter soon the ship would surely founder.

A shout went up, 'Lights! Lights ash.o.r.e! Lights off the port bow!'

'G.o.d be praised!' my father cried. 'Salvation is at hand!'

Despite the ever-present danger of being washed overboard, all who were not too sick to stand clambered on deck. Only those who have been in such mortal peril could understand the comfort that we gained from those glimmers of light. To know that safety, warmth and comfort were within our reach; surely these lights were lit to guide poor mariners home!

''Tis Plymouth,' the boatswain yelled, ''Tis Plymouth! I know the lights!' And all believed him because that is what we all wished to believe safe harbour and an easy entrance.

How cruelly we were deceived! Too late we heard the roar of breakers on the rocks. Too late we saw the plumes of spray that burst against the cliffs and leapt a hundred feet into the air. Too late the master saw the trap that had been set. In a panic he ordered the ship about and four seamen threw themselves upon the wheel, but she would not come round. The seas drove us on; the wind drove us on; the sails were blown to rags and tatters but still we were driven on. Then a great black wave rolled out of the night, lifted the ship like it were a toy, rushed with it on its shoulders and flung it down on the waiting reef. The ship's back was broken; the mainmast snapped and crashed with its yardarms and tangled rigging to the deck; many were flung into the sea.

Our family, clinging to each other and to the stern rail, managed to keep from sliding from the sloping deck. But each breaking wave pounded the shattered hull of the doomed ship, driving her ever further across the jagged reef, tearing fresh holes in her belly.

The ship lifted for the last time, struggled to right herself like a dying animal, then, with an awful groan, fell back upon the rocks. Our father ordered us to remain where we were and went to find the master, but our mother, seizing us by the arms, dragged us back down the companionway. Below deck it was so dark we could see almost nothing and everything was awash. Spouts of water exploded through splintered holes in the hull. Wading knee-deep in the icy water, we at last gained our cabin, where our frenzied mother searched frantically among the floating debris until she found her holdall. From it she took two bracelets, which she thrust on to our arms. Then she fell to her knees in the water and hugged us to her. 'These will protect you. Whatever happens, my darlings, don't take them off. Do you understand?' We nodded. We were children. She was our mother. She must know best.

'Father will be looking for us,' she said. She took my hand and I took my sister's and we plunged back through the flooded hull and out into the mayhem of the night.

As we reached the deck, we looked up to see a curving wall of water that seemed to hang above our heads, blotting out the sky. With a roar, the wave collapsed, engulfing us. Rolling and struggling, we were carried over the side of the ship and dragged down by the powerful current. I felt my mother's grip on my arm and then it was slipping, slipping. Desperately, I tried to entwine my fingers in hers but the current prised us apart. I stretched out, reaching for her hand, but she was gone!

It was Una who managed to get her arm over a piece of floating wreckage and dragged us both on to it. All around us was the turmoil of broken water and the howling of the wind. We screamed and screamed for help and for our mother, but no answer came. At last, exhausted, we could only cling to each other and to the wreckage.

In this nightmare, I imagined, or thought I imagined, that we were suddenly propelled through the water. I thought there were creatures surrounding us, their dark, smooth backs visible when they broke the surface and blew spume into the air. Had I not been half drowned, I would have been afraid, but the creatures did not attack us and I found myself thinking that I must tell Mother about them when I woke up. But it was my sister who was shaking me and begging me to let go of the wreckage and drag myself up the beach that we had somehow reached. Bewildered, I did as I was told.

We lay in the wet sand, just beyond the reach of the waves. How long we lay there I do not know. It was the sound of voices that roused us, and when we sat up, we saw that there were lights coming along the beach. A rescue party! Our hearts lifted and as they drew nearer we were about to call out when a dreadful sight choked the cries in our throats. They paused by the water's edge and, while some held up the lanterns, others dragged a poor seaman from the water. The sailor tried to raise himself from the sand but, as he did so, one of the party, a giant of a man whose face was disfigured by a great, white scar, drew a long knife and plunged it into the sailor's body. What kind of people were these? Returning to our homeland, had we fallen among savages? Supporting each other, we stumbled across the beach and hid behind some boulders at the foot of a small cliff. From here we watched the awful proceedings on the beach. Following the advance party came horses drawing carts. On to one of these the bodies of the drowned were loaded. If any still showed signs of life, they were swiftly dispatched. A second cart was loaded with anything of value that washed ash.o.r.e. A third cart carried a boat that was launched in the sheltered water, where the rocks of the reef provided protection from the breaking waves, and rowed out to the stricken ship. Clearly, the intention was to plunder the wreck before she broke up in the storm.

Sickened and terrified we huddled in our hiding place but it was clear that if we remained where we were we would eventually be discovered. Fear gave us new strength and when the wreckers moved further away we fled into the trees behind the beach. Finding a rough path that led up the steep hillside we decided to follow it, hoping that it might lead us to a place of safety. As we climbed the hill we saw the two beacons still burning that had lured our ship on to the rocks; the first on the pinnacle of a great, black rock, the second on the headland behind the rock, and so arranged to give the appearance of a harbour's leading lights.

The sound of a horse's hooves on the rocky path sent us darting into the gorse and bracken. As we lay peering through the undergrowth, we were surprised to see that the rider, judging by his manner of dress, was a gentleman. I was about to hail him when my sister pulled me firmly back down. 'How do we know that he isn't one of them?' I heard her ask but her lips did not appear to move, and it occurred to me that neither of us had spoken since we had hidden on the beach but we had somehow managed to converse.

We lay still until the rider had pa.s.sed.

Further on, we came to a settlement of roughly built hovels, some of undressed stone, the rest made from driftwood, broken spars, timbers and canvas scavenged from wrecks. Dogs barked as we approached. These were obviously the habitations of the wreckers, so we made a wide detour through the surrounding woodland and rejoined the track further on. The track now became no more than a footpath that wound its way out on to a headland. Should we continue? It led, no doubt, to a lookout at the cliff-edge.

Far out along the headland a lone cottage perched above the sea. A light in one of the windows drew us to it. At what point I fainted I can't say. Did I reach the cottage, or was I carried? I awoke to find that we lay on a bed of straw in a simple room. An old woman dressed in black sat by the smouldering fire.

And so began our life in the Orme Valley. Of the wreck of the Persephone Persephone we were the only survivors. Our poor parents and most of the ship's company were drowned. Had old Mrs Ball not taken us in, we would certainly have met the same fate as the other unfortunates who reached the sh.o.r.e alive, only to die at the hands of that murderous gang. By hiding us at first and then declaring us to be the children of distant cousins, who had come to care for her in her old age, Mrs Ball ensured our survival. The old lady enjoyed a unique position in the local community, having been the childhood nurse of the landowner Robert Stapleton, the 'gentleman' whom we had seen riding down to the sh.o.r.e, no doubt to oversee the plundering of the we were the only survivors. Our poor parents and most of the ship's company were drowned. Had old Mrs Ball not taken us in, we would certainly have met the same fate as the other unfortunates who reached the sh.o.r.e alive, only to die at the hands of that murderous gang. By hiding us at first and then declaring us to be the children of distant cousins, who had come to care for her in her old age, Mrs Ball ensured our survival. The old lady enjoyed a unique position in the local community, having been the childhood nurse of the landowner Robert Stapleton, the 'gentleman' whom we had seen riding down to the sh.o.r.e, no doubt to oversee the plundering of the Persephone Persephone. Moreover, she was the midwife and known to be skilled in the use of medicinal herbs.

With the help of these herbs, our physical injuries healed soon enough. But what could heal our hearts? Our parents had been taken from us and we now must live among those who lured them to their deaths. Una, who had shown such strength on the night of the storm, lapsed into a state of melancholy from which nothing but the sight of dolphins would rouse her. She spent every day on the rocks below the cliffs watching for them, learning to call for them so that they would come to her.

I knew what she was doing and I knew I was losing her. Una and I had been together from the moment we were conceived. We were born within minutes of each other, spent every day of our lives together, learnt to walk together and run together. Our very first words had been to each other, and now I was losing her, losing her to the sea and to the dolphins. For we had learnt now the power of the bracelets and Una was using these powers to become one with the creatures of the sea.

I do not know what ancient sorcery the Edura employed when he cast those bracelets, what demonic powers he called up and trapped within their sacred alloy. It seemed to us that he had breathed life itself into those metal bands. They often felt as though they pulsed upon our wrists and became inflamed like living things. When Una and I wore the bracelets we could hear every thought in the other's head, and we could slide from our own bodies into each other's and into the bodies of birds and animals. Even when we removed the bracelets, some of their powers remained with us, as though we had absorbed a little of the potency instilled in them. At first, we had little control over those powers and our waking lives became like dreams, but gradually we became adept at manipulating them so that we could inhabit our own bodies when we wished to and move into others whenever we chose. Then we discovered we could create phantasms, creatures that seemed completely real but owed their existence to our imaginations. These phantasms would only exist for as long as we held their images in our minds; as soon as we ceased thinking about them they vanished. We could see through their eyes, hear with their ears, feel what they touched. Una had little interest in creating them, preferring instead to flee her own body as often as she could to share the bodies of dolphins, but I spent many hours perfecting a phantom grey cat that I could send wherever I wished in order that I could spy on our murderous neighbours.

Dear stranger, you may be wondering why did we not use the powers of the bracelets to leave the Orme immediately and find our way back to Wales. Una had lost all interest in human society. From the night our parents died, she turned her back on the land and looked only to the sea. Even I, her twin sister, received little more than the odd word, and I now had to invade her mind to discover what she was thinking. More and more often when I attempted to contact her I would find that she had left her body to be with the dolphins. I began to fear that one day she would not return or that her body, left so long without her spirit, would die.

And what of me? Of course, I would never leave without my sister, but I had my own reason for staying I wanted revenge.

I took to helping Mrs Ball on her missions of mercy. She was often called on to treat illnesses with her herbal remedies, to set broken bones, to st.i.tch up wounds and, occasionally, to deliver babies. The old woman's sight was failing, so she welcomed my a.s.sistance, as did her patients. Soon I, and my grey cat, were as accepted as the old woman herself. She taught me how to prepare potions and salves, which plants healed and which were poisonous. I helped tend her herb garden and she sent me along the cliff paths and into the woods to gather berries, leaves, roots and the bark of certain trees. I was biding my time, waiting for my opportunity and getting to know my enemies, chief among whom were Mr Maunder and the Honourable Robert Stapleton.

Maunder was that scar-faced brute we had seen going about his murderous work on the night of our shipwreck. He was six foot three in his sea boots, with a chest like a barrel of herrings, his thick grey beard streaked with yellow stains from the tobacco he constantly chewed. Maunder was a smuggler and wrecker who could take another's life as easily as snuff out a candle. All were afraid of him, even Stapleton.

The Honourable Robert Stapleton was as thin as Maunder was broad and as subtle as Maunder was brutal. His soft, fleshy mouth seemed too big and loose for his sharp, bony face. His skin had the grey pallor of an invalid, for he was a creature of the night, addicted to drink and gambling.

Stapleton, no longer able to support his evil habits on the income from his estate, lived like a leech on Maunder's smuggling and wrecking, allowing Maunder and his gang to remain on his land and pa.s.s themselves off as his estate workers to avoid the attentions of the excise men. Maunder, for his part, cheated Stapleton whenever he could by hiding the most valuable items of plunder.

Which was the parasite and which the host? It was hard to tell. Each needed, hated and distrusted the other.

These men had robbed me of all I loved. They had murdered my parents and driven my sister's spirit to hide among the creatures of the sea. To wreak my revenge I had to discover their weaknesses, find some way of gaining a hold over one or other of them. Maunder, I surmised, might survive without Stapleton, but Stapleton would not survive long without Maunder. Maunder, then, would be my target. Bring him down and I could destroy both of them. Easily said but, despite the extraordinary powers given me by the bracelet, I was still a child, and these were vicious, powerful men with a gang of cut-throats that would do whatever their leaders bid them. I had seen them at work on the night of our shipwreck and I knew the bodies of their victims fed the crops in Stapleton's fields.

It was over a year before my chance came. Fights were common in that place. Petty jealousies and rivalries fuelled by the strong liquor their smuggling brought in would erupt into violent clashes and we were often called upon to treat the wounded. This particular night I was helping Mrs Ball to her bed when there came a thunderous hammering on the door. When I opened it I found the one they called Crab standing outside, a pinch-faced ruffian with a twisted hip that made him walk in an odd sideways fashion.

'Come quick as you can. It's the Captain,' he shouted as soon as the door was open, then turned and hurried off into the night with his strange shuffle and skip. The Captain was their name for Maunder.

'Not the first time someone's tried to kill 'im,' Mrs Ball muttered as we gathered together all we might need. 'With luck, we'll be too late to save 'im.'

One half of me agreed with the old woman's sentiment, the other half feared I would be cheated of my revenge.

Maunder's house, although it was the largest in the settlement, was cold and dark and it stank. Entering it was more like entering an animal's cave than entering a human dwelling. We found Maunder lying on a filthy bed with Crab holding a gla.s.s of rum to his lips. Maunder's normally dark face was pale, almost as pale as the white scar that ran down from under his left eye, through both his full lips and made a parting in his beard.

'What took 'ee so long?' he managed to grunt. Maunder's right breast was a ma.s.s of blood.

'I'll need light,' Mrs Ball said calmly. Crab did not move. He clearly took no orders from women.

'Fetch a light, you scabby cur!' snarled Maunder. Crab leapt from the room and returned with a lighted lantern.

'Stabbed or shot?' enquired Mrs Ball.

'Shot,' Maunder muttered. 'The dog fired on me before I could finish him. But we'll throw him off Devil's Rock in the mornin'.' He laughed an ugly laugh, then coughed blood into his beard. Mrs Ball probed the wound and shook her head. 'It's in too deep.'

'Dig it out,' commanded Maunder.

'No, Mr Maunder, I will not. My hands are not as steady as they were. One slip and I fear I will kill you. You need a surgeon.'

'Fetch my pistol, Crab.'

Crab did as he was told.

'Hold it to the girl's head. If the old woman's hand slips, shoot the girl.'

And so the operation began, Crab gripping me tightly around the shoulders, his breath stinking of rum, the gun pressed to my head, Maunder groaning and cursing, beads of sweat on his forehead, Mrs Ball bent over him in the dim light of the lantern.