They were soon launched, some of the men being forced to leap from the railing into the churning ocean; they swam to the side of the boats and fought their way aboard. In their panic, no thought – other than the brief accusation – had been given to the three of us. Gripping the rail, I watched as the boats' oars splashed and drove our captors as quickly away as was possible.
"Jesus jumping Christ," said Scape. The ship lurched again, knocking him heavily into me. "Now what?"
He was answered by a furious volley of barking from Abel. He had stood up with his paws on the opposite rail, and was yapping at the island of Groughay as though it were some particularly noxious pest.
"Good God," I said. I could see what had captured the dog's attention; the island's coast was clearly discernible, the sound of the waves battering it even louder. "We're going into the rocks."
Scape and Miss McThane scrabbled across the sloping deck to where I stood. "Hey – you're right." The ship gave another lurch, and was drawn several yards closer to the shore; whatever was grating against the hull was also responsible for our motion landwards.
"This doesn't look too good," said Miss McThane. "Maybe we'd better abandon ship."
"With what?" Scape pointed over his shoulder to the receding figures of the Godly Army. "Those chickenshits took the boats."
We could only watch helplessly as the jagged rocks loomed nearer. Our approach accelerated, a crest of water surging up the hull towards the rail. The grating noise of the objects below the surface was drowned by the sharper noise of the timbers splintering into pieces.
Billowing canvas and slack lines came tangling about us as the masts swayed and toppled. The deck split open, casting Scape and Miss McThane away from me. I grabbed for Abel, but missed as my own feet were yanked out from under me by the buckling wood. For a moment, I heard the clog's barking somewhere above me as my back struck the rail; it splintered in two, and I was falling towards the white lace dashing against the rocks. The great bulk of the Virtuous Persistence lifted into the sky, the hull gouged and broken by the rocks. Then I struck the furious water.
All was dark; as my mouth filled with salt, I thought I saw the even darker shapes of giant chains strung through the depths. A wave lifted me into air; a shattered timber crashed against my brow, and I saw no more.
14
I dreamt my face was being washed with a soft, damp flannel; I opened my eyes and found Abel standing on my chest, licking my chin. He barked at this sign of my resurrection; I pushed him away and groggily sat up, my palms digging into sand as I did so. The smell of the ocean was strong in my nostrils, owing perhaps to the quantity of seaweed tangled about my limbs.
A jagged piece of flotsam nudged my foot, impelled by the lapping waves. Other debris, splintered fragments of the ill-fated Virtuous Persistence, were strewn about the small, rock-bordered cove.
"Dower," said a voice behind me. I turned around and saw the impassive countenance of the Brown Leather Man gazing down at me. His dark hand reached down and helped me to my feet. "Good it is to see you awake. I had seen no injuries upon your person, but of these matters one cannot be sure."
I shook my head, both to clear my thoughts and to disperse the water lodged inside my ear. "What place is this?" I asked, looking about at the high cliffs that lined the shore.
"You're safe on the island of Groughay." He gestured at the surrounding rocks. "You will forgive, I trust, for the necessary violence of the means employed to bring you here. But you are free from the Godly Army, at least."
"That was all your doing? But how?"
"Your father enabled me thus. The device he created, for the purpose of gathering seaweed, exists still in working order. In the sea, the chains and wooden booms are yet in place – I had only to activate the device to create such havoc as you saw, and to draw you and your companions to safety here."
"My companions? You mean, Scape and Miss McThane? Where are they?"
"No fear," said the Brown Leather Man. "They are but a small distance from here, on another point of the shore. But of you I must ask – where is that which I gave you? The wreckage of the ship I have searched, and not found it in that which was your cabin. You had hidden the object elsewhere, I trust?"
It was the brass cylinder, with his minute progeny inside, of which he spoke. With a heavy heart, I informed him of how Lieutenant Brattle had thrown it overboard. He staggered backwards on learning this, as though struck above the heart. His gaze turned from me towards the ocean, as though contemplating the enormity of searching its depths for the precious item.
The currents of fortune saved him from this impossible task. I heard Abel barking several yards away from us; a gleam of bright metal rolled in the seaweed at the water's edge; some movement inside had caught the dog's attention. "Look there." I grabbed the Brown Leather Man's arm and pointed.
He saw it, ran and gathered it up, cradling the brass cylinder as tenderly as a newborn infant. I could see the dark-eyed sprats swimming about inside.
"I must leave you," he said. "They have reached the age that into their proper bed they must be placed." He turned from me and waded into the sea.
"But what about us?" I shouted after him. "What's to become of us?"
The waves lapped up to his chest, and over the cylinder held there. "Do not worry. You shall see me again soon. All will be taken care of."
I stood gazing at the spot where he had disappeared. With Abel at my heels, I headed in the direction where he had indicated I might find my fellow castaways.
They were alive, and evidently unharmed. I spotted them from the top of the outcropping of rock that separated another small cove from that where I had been washed ashore. Scape was sorting out various bits of debris from the wreck – nothing of any value was arranged on the sand – while Miss McThane watched his labours from her seat on a rounded stone. Her shoulders and arms were bare to the sun, while her tattered dress dried itself on the rocks next to her. They looked up at my shout, and Scape gestured for me to descend and join them.
"Good to see ya, man." He jovially slapped my back, One of the blue lenses had a slight chip on its edge, but he showed no other sign of damage. "We all made it safe and sound."
Miss McThane laughed scornfully. "Yeah, we're doing fine, all right." Her words were heavy with sarcasm. "Stuck on some goddamn pile of rocks in the middle of nowhere. Now what are we gonna do?"
Scape's mood was considerably more buoyant. "Not just any pile of rocks, sweetheart – I think we might find some interesting stuff here. And besides – at least we're not gonna starve." He pointed up to a section of cliffs above our heads.
I followed the direction of his finger and saw the vacuous faces of several sheep gazing down at us. "I wonder how many there are here."
"Who knows? Place has been abandoned for quite a while. They've had nothing else to do except breed. There's probably enough to last us until we figure a way of getting off here."
"Yeah?" Miss McThane remained sceptical. "What do you know about butchering a sheep? They're not just a bunch of cutlets running around in a woolly jacket, you know."
He shrugged. "Can't be too hard. You get a knife, rub a coupla sticks together – we'll all be singing around the ol' campfire tonight. You wait and see."
I looked towards the grey clouds mounting over the ocean. "I suggest our first concern should be finding some sort of shelter. The weather in these parts is reputedly severe."
"Good thinking. See, baby – ol' Dower here's getting into the swing of things. Cheer up a bit; think Boy Scouts."