“It does seem odd,” Alex agreed, noting how few people were moving about the city. “Perhaps this is a slow time of year for them. Or maybe most of the ships are away at other cities.”
“Perhaps, but it still seems strange,” said Barnabus.
They reached the docks, but only a few people were walking around. Alex noticed that two small ships were tied up to one of the docks, but nothing appeared to be happening on either of them. He saw several men sitting near the back of one of the warehouses, talking to each other and playing cards.
“Perhaps they can tell us something,” Alex suggested, nodding toward the men.
“I was thinking the old fisherman might be a better bet.” Barnabus pointed in the opposite direction to where an old man sat in the afternoon sun, mending his nets. “He could probably tell us what stories there are about the Isle of Bones and give us some idea as to who we might hire to take us there.”
“You think he will know more than the others?” Alex questioned.
“I think that he will be more willing to talk to strangers since he is alone,” Barnabus answered.
Alex considered Barnabus’s words. It was likely that one man alone would be more willing to talk to them than a group of men who seemed only interested in their card game. He nodded his agreement, and the two of them walked toward the old fisherman.
“Good day, master,” said Barnabus in a jovial tone.
“Not so good when you’ve got nets to mend,” said the old man, glancing up at Alex and Barnabus before returning his attention to his nets. “You’re new here, and landlubbers as well.”
“Your eyes are keen,” said Alex. “We are looking for a ship to aid us in our travels.”
“Lots of ships in these waters,” said the old man.
“That is true, but we are looking for a ship that might take us and several of our friends to the Isle of Bones,” said Alex.
“Argh!” said the old man, looking up at them once again. “Not likely to find anyone to take you there. They’re all too superstitious for that.”
“Can you tell us why they would be too superstitious to travel to the Isle of Bones?” Alex asked.
“’Cause that island is haunted, of course,” the old man answered, returning to his nets. “Haunted, or cursed, or something.”
“If nobody goes there, how do you know it’s haunted?” Barnabus asked politely.
“A fair question,” said the old man, pausing in his work. “The answer is a long one, however, and I have nets to mend.”
“Perhaps we could help you with your task if you could take the time to explain,” said Alex, taking a step nearer to the nets.
“Help me?” the old man asked, and then laughed out loud. “You two have never mended nets. I don’t know how you could help me.”
“I could put a spell on your nets so they would never need mending again,” Alex offered.
“Oh?” said the old man, looking hard at the staff in Alex’s hand. “I suppose you’re a wizard, then.”
“I am,” said Alex, bowing slightly.
“I don’t know much about wizards, but you look awfully young to be one,” commented the old man.
“I assure you that I am a wizard, though I am young,” said Alex in a serious tone.
“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t,” said the old man. “Not my place to argue the point, and it would be rude to say that you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And dangerous.” Barnabus glanced quickly at Alex to make sure the old man’s words hadn’t angered him.
“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” the old man agreed.
“So, then,” said Alex. “Do we have a bargain?”
“I’m not sure,” said the old man thoughtfully. After a moment, he shrugged. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you what I know, which is little enough.”
“If you wouldn’t mind,” said Alex.
“Well, to begin with, not many people from around here have ever gone to the Isle of Bones,” the old man began. “Not much reason to go so far north when the fishing is fine here. There are only a few towns along the coast north of here, so not much trade goes that way either.”
“That makes sense,” said Alex.
“’Course, now and then somebody gets it in their head that fishing might be better up north. Not many fishermen up there so there should be plenty of fish—or so you’d think,” the old man went on. “I was up north once—years ago. Went with an uncle of mine who had that idea about better fishing. Anyway, we spent a week, ten days, sailing all around that island. Didn’t catch many fish, but that wasn’t the worst of it. All the time we were there, it felt like someone was watching us.”
“Did you land on the island?” Barnabus questioned.
“We thought about it,” said the old man, shifting his position slightly. “Heard the old stories about dwarf mines on the island and piles of treasure for the taking. Don’t know if any of that’s true, but we talked about taking a look.”
“But you never did,” said Alex.
“No, we never did,” said the old man. “That feeling that someone, or maybe something, was watching us got worse when we sailed closer to the island. It was like someone was keeping an eye on us for some reason. None of us were keen on staying close to that island, let alone going ashore.”
“So you think the island is haunted?” Barnabus asked.
“There’s something going on there, that’s for sure,” said the old man, lowering his voice. “I figure there must be something living on that island because we didn’t catch any fish. You’d expect good water like that to have loads of fish, but if there were fish, we couldn’t find them.”
“Did you see anyone or anything on the island? Or was it just a feeling of being watched?” Alex questioned.
“Didn’t see nothing. Not a sign. No boats or ships. Nothing,” the old man answered, his thoughts trailing off. “Course there was a harbor, we saw that clear enough.”
“And now the men of Dunnstal avoid the island, believing it is haunted,” said Alex in a thoughtful tone, watching the old man.
“For the most part,” said the old man. “Now and then someone still talks about going to the island, but not many ever do more than talk. In fact, old Bill Clinker was talking about going up north just last fall. Doubt he’ll ever do it; he’d had plenty to drink along with his talk, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, of course,” Barnabus said with a smile.
“Well, that’s that,” said the old man, returning his attention to his nets.
“You’ve certainly given us something to think about,” said Alex. “I don’t suppose you know of anyone, besides Master Clinker, who has thought of going north?”
“Oh, I suppose most of them have,” the old man answered with a slight laugh. “We all heard the stories when we’re young. Old dwarf mines left abandoned, piles of gold and jewels lying about for anyone to pick up. But there’s a difference between thinking about it and actually doing it.”
“I suppose we could buy a boat and sail there ourselves,” said Alex, looking out at the water.
“If you know how to sail, you might,” said the old man, chuckling. “But if you don’t, it would be a fool’s journey.”
“Perhaps,” agreed Alex. “Now, I will repay your kindness and put a spell on your nets so they won’t need mending in the future.”
“Oh, no.” The old man laughed. “Wizard or not, nets need mending. It’s best to leave them as they are so an old man like me has something to do.”
“Then how can we repay your kindness?” Alex questioned.
“Well,” said the old man, looking straight into Alex’s eyes, “if you ever get to that island and find out what is there, you could come back and tell me.”
“That I will do,” said Alex, bowing to the old man.
Chapter Eleven