It was the sound of rain pattering against a window that finally brought Moll round. A strange numbness enveloped her body and it rested on her eyelids and weighed heavy on her limbs. But it couldn’t block out the pain. Her head throbbed from where she’d hit the ground and, raising a hand to her brow, Moll felt a lump.

Forcing her eyes open, she saw that she was in a dimly-lit room, lying on floorboards riddled with woodworm and layered with dust. There was a fireplace next to her that looked as if it hadn’t been used in years, and Siddy lay before it, fast asleep. Moll crawled towards him, her body slow and lumbering.

She tugged his arm. ‘Sid, you OK?’ Her voice was a mumbled slur.

Siddy snuffled, then rolled over and began to snore. Moll struggled against the unsettling tiredness spreading through her body; whatever the smugglers had done to her, it looked like they’d done it to Siddy too. She shook him again, hard, but he was sleeping deeply now. Moll glanced around. Plaster peeled from the walls, a single wrought-iron bed draped in musty sheets slumped in the corner of the room, and below a shuttered window was a table on which sat a pail of water and a lamp.

Moll hauled herself upright and clutched her head. The ache pounded inside her skull, but it was the strange dizziness that clouded her sight when she moved that frightened her most. She stumbled over the creaking floorboards towards the door and pulled it. Locked. Fear twisted inside her. She’d been so worried about the Shadowmasks catching them she hadn’t even thought about the Dreads, not after they’d made it past Bootleggers Bay unharmed.

She summoned up her energy and staggered over to Siddy. ‘Wake up,’ she hissed. But, when she shook him again and again and still he slept, dark thoughts clouded in. Why couldn’t she wake him?

Shivering from the cold, Moll walked over to the wooden table, cupped her hands into the water and raised it to her lips. She felt the dizziness lift a little and the tiny writing etched into the bottom of the pail became clear: The Gloomy Tap.

Moll bit her lip. Where was Oak? And Gryff? Had they raced into Inchgrundle after beating off the owls? A sickening feeling lodged in the pit of her stomach. What if something terrible had happened on the cliff top? Moll thought of Jinx suddenly, tied up beyond the harbour wall. Had she yanked her tethering rope free and wandered home or was she still there, waiting for Moll to come back? Moll found herself wishing that Mooshie was near to heal the bruise on her head and tell her it was all going to be OK.

She pushed back the shutter from the window above the table and looked out. The cobbles were streaked with rain and it was already growing dark. Moll’s insides lurched. They’d been out cold for a whole day; whatever the Dreads had done to them had knocked their senses completely . . . She watched a fisherman hauling a net full of fish from his boat up on to the walkway running along the harbour wall, then a shuffling noise came from behind Moll and she wheeled round.

‘What – what happened?’ Siddy’s voice was thick with sleep, but Moll felt a surge of relief.

‘You’re OK,’ she breathed.

Siddy rubbed his eyes and sat up against the wall. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘It’s night already – we’ve been asleep for the whole day.’ Moll shook her head. ‘I remember Grudge knocking me to the ground, then – then I must have passed out cold . . .’ She blinked back a wave of dizziness. ‘But you must remember what happened after that?’

Siddy struggled to his feet. ‘The smugglers dragged us back here, then—’ He frowned. ‘I remember they forced me to drink something. Something hot and soothing. Then I’m not sure what happened next.’

Moll blinked. ‘I get knocked out and you sit down to a cup of tea with the Dreads?’

‘It wasn’t like that . . .’

Moll turned away to face the table, then she raised a hand to her mouth. ‘Siddy,’ she said slowly, her voice altogether different now. ‘Look.’

She pointed to what appeared to be a handful of dried-out plants strewn on the table beside the pail of water: light brown stems with a circular pod at the top next to two tin cups and a pestle and mortar filled with ochre grains.

‘Poppy stems and seedpods ground up to make tea!’ Moll’s eyes widened, but then shock gave way to outrage. ‘The wretched smugglers drugged us!’ she cried. ‘We need to escape and find the amulet!’

At that moment, the door handle turned, the door creaked open and lamplight fell upon an enormous figure. Moll and Siddy backed up against the table as Barbarous Grudge walked into the room, the floorboards sagging and groaning beneath him. The boys they had seen in the shipyard and the alleyway swaggered in after him, locking the door behind them.

Grudge ran a tongue over his golden teeth and sat down on the bed. The springs wheezed. ‘Glad to see you’ve had a good rest. Now it’s time to get down to business. This amulet you talked about in the shipyard – where is it?’

Neither Moll nor Siddy said anything. Their silence was hard and cold as if it had been sculpted from marble.

Grudge grunted. ‘Smog told us you were heading for The Crumpled Way?’

Moll willed herself to be brave, tried to make herself think as Oak – or even Alfie – would have done. ‘We don’t know exactly where the amulet is, but we know it’s out past Inchgrundle.’ She offered Grudge two haughty eyebrows and a nostril flare even though her heart was thumping.

Siddy nodded, catching on to Moll’s thoughts. ‘We were heading for the first road out of here – The Crumpled Way.’

Grudge’s boys whispered to each other, then the wiry lad leant close to Grudge. ‘They’ll be lying, boss. Pesky gypsies trying to throw us off the scent.’

Grudge said nothing. Instead, he reached into his pocket and brought out the legendary finger bone. He chewed on it as he thought, then he stood up and walked towards the children.

His eyes bored into Moll. ‘You look like the kind of girl who might—’

‘Bite hard?’ Moll muttered. She sprang forward, a ball of furious energy, and jabbed an elbow into Grudge’s stomach. When he didn’t even flinch, she pummelled her fists into his ribs and began to yell. ‘You’ve no business holding us here!’

Siddy watched in horror, thought about stepping in, then noticed the other two smugglers advancing behind Grudge and decided to stay where he was.

Grudge held Moll at arm’s length by her hair. She swung with her fists and snarled, but he only laughed.

‘Well, you’re something, aren’t you?’

Moll twisted herself free and stepped back, panting. ‘Yes. No. Shut up.’

Grudge pointed a large finger at her. ‘Let’s get this straight. I’m in charge here so don’t bother fighting me as you know who’ll win.’

Moll glared at him. ‘Moosh always says you’ve got to watch out for the small people; they’re full of surprises.’

Grudge snorted, then drew himself up before Moll and Siddy, his dreadlocks framing his face like bundles of grimy rope. ‘I’ll send up some food to line your stomachs while me and the Dreads get on with the raid. It’s our biggest one yet and you’re not getting in the way of it.’ He paused. ‘But afterwards you’ll lead us to this amulet – and we’ll see if your stories about it are really true.’

Moll’s thoughts whirred; how were they going to find the amulet before the Shadowmasks tracked them down when Grudge planned to lock them in The Gloomy Tap?

The leader of the Dreads turned towards the door, key in hand, then he looked back at Moll and Siddy. ‘And don’t even think about trying to break free while we’re away. We Dreads own this village and you’re our property now. If you so much as put a foot outside this pub, we’ll string you up with sailor’s rope and see you hanged before dawn.’

There didn’t seem a great deal to say or do in response to this so Moll just nodded. Beside her, Siddy gulped.