IT’S ONLY WHEN we splash into water that we stop.
“Herbie, we really need to use the torches,” says Vi, leaning in close again to make herself heard. “What if we walk right out to sea?”
But I hold up a nearly invisible hand.
“Wait a mo,” I say. “Look up at the clouds.”
A patch of light in the northern sky, which I’ve had my eye on for a while now, finally opens – the clouds ripped apart by the wind – and the moon shines down in a rush of silver.
The wreck is shockingly close. Its jagged outline towers up just a few dozen paces ahead of us. Water swirls around it, crashing in waves against its far side before surging round each end and sweeping over the beach towards us, covering the sand – and our feet – in icy cold sea.
“I thought the tide was going out!” Vi shouts in my ear.
“It is!” I shout back. “I checked at Reception. It’ll be out completely at 10.13 p.m.” And I pull back my sleeve to waggle the glowing dial of my watch – borrowed from lost property, of course – at Violet. “That’s in twenty-seven minutes.”
“So we just stand here till then?” Vi says, between chattering teeth.
I shrug. I haven’t actually thought this far ahead in detail. Deciding to stop Eels from getting the egg is one thing. Actually doing it? Well, that’s something else, isn’t it? And we’re already frozen through.
“What’s that?” Vi points back up the beach. The town is just a mass of misty lights, twinkling in the distance. But down at shore level is another light – a small speck, sharper than the others, that is swinging from side to side. And getting closer.
“Maybe it’s Mrs Fossil,” I say. “Coming back to insist on those scones.”
I’m starting to wish we’d gone with her after all.
“I don’t think so,” says Vi. “Herbie, what if it’s Eels?”
“If it is, he’ll see us,” I say. “Now the moon’s out.”
“Then let’s go,” Vi replies. “Let’s get to the wreck before he does.”
HMS Leviathan must have been a monster in its day. Almost as long as the pier, and twice as wide, it was probably an awesome sight as it crested the waves. Now, though, it’s the waves that crest it. Most of the ship’s hull is submerged in the silt and sands of the bay. The deck is partly exposed, however, from the middle section forward, sweeping up at a drunken angle, bristling with gun turrets, twisted metal railings and barnacle-encrusted structures. All of it dripping with seaweed and slime. The prow – the pointy end, that is – rises up to be almost the highest part of the wreck, and is still wrapped around the spur of rock that tore open the hull and sank the mighty warship. The wind gusts over it all with a high metallic wail.
“There must be a way in through there,” says Vi, pointing to the split metal of the prow.
“There is,” I tell her.
“You’ve been inside?” Vi looks surprised. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I haven’t been inside,” I say. “I’ve just been out to look at it a few times. Have you any idea how dangerous this wreck is?”
“My dad’s been inside,” says Vi. “And Eels. And goodness knows how many others. And we’ll have to too, if we’re going to do what we came to do.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say quickly. “But the tide, Vi. When it comes back in…”
“We’ll just have to be careful,” Violet replies firmly, and I can tell that nothing is going to stop her. “Eels will be here in a moment. Come on!”
“Wait,” I say. “If we go in now, Eels will be between us and the way out.”
“Well – what, then?”
“Let’s see if we can get up on the deck,” I say. “I want to watch what Eels does. And if he goes in, we’ll have the advantage when we follow.”
So we run, splashing in the swirling shallows, till we reach the monstrous black hull. I put my hand on it and feel the faint warmth of my body sucked out into its freezing metal skin.
“We can get up here,” says Vi, and I see her silhouetted figure rise ahead of me. I wonder for a moment how she’s doing this, till I spot in the moonlight a series of holes corroded through the hull, acting like a ladder.
But the moonlight worries me. Can we be seen already? I look round, and the light on the beach is surprisingly close now. I can even see the shape of a man behind it. It’s Eels, there’s no mistake. And lumbering behind him is the hulking form of someone else I recognize.
Boathook Man.
I glance at Violet, and she’s waving her hand at me to hurry. She’s already on the deck of the Leviathan. I climb till I can haul myself over onto the deck beside her.
Where I land with a loud metallic CLANG!
The approaching light, which has been heading for the prow of the ship, immediately swings round towards us.
We both drop low behind the ship’s side, but it’s riddled with holes and particles of torchlight play over us both.
Vi jabs her finger towards the prow, and I follow her, still crouched. After a moment, we risk another peek.
Sebastian Eels is now walking straight towards the place where we climbed, his torch fixed on that point.
“Oh, bladderwracks!” I say, but Vi is pointing again.
Behind us, on the deck, looms one of Leviathan’s gun turrets, its two long barrels festooned with dripping seaweed. We manage to duck behind it just as Sebastian Eels swings himself up onto the deck.
The man is an extraordinary sight. He has a full wetsuit on, complete with oxygen tank. A diving mask is pushed back onto his forehead, and a mouthpiece dangles at its side, ready for use. Over his suit he wears a long-sleeved vest of glittering steel chain mail, the kind people wear to swim with sharks. He has a packed equipment belt, a long dagger in a sheath strapped to one thigh, and head-mounted torches on his helmet. In his hands he holds the harpoon gun, sweeping it from side to side, ready to release its deadly darts at anything he wishes.
We shrink back into the shadow of the gun turret.
There’s a porthole door at the back of it, fixed open a sliver on rust-blistered hinges, but do we really dare go in there? I shake my head at Violet when she points at the door. I feel my insides go watery at the thought of what could be lurking inside the turret.
But as we creep round the other side, away from Eels, a dark shadow grows behind us, blotting out the silver moonlight. We spin round, and see a terrible sight: Boathook Man is hauling himself over the far side of the ship! We’re surrounded!
Violet pulls me back towards the door of the turret. I try to shake her off, to protest, but she pulls even harder. Boathook Man could swing his head our way any moment, and we’ll be seen. And Eels is heading round the other way. I let myself be pulled to the twisted metal doorway and watch with mounting horror as Violet squeezes herself through.
Into the dark.
And I have no choice.
As the sound of ringing footsteps grows closer and closer on the iron deck, I edge towards the doorway, and allow Violet to pull me into the black, dripping, windowless unknown.
