“If they aren’t illusions or snakes, then what are they, leftover dinosaurs?”
“Okay, Mr. Skeptic,” she said seriously, a touch of defiant pride in her tone. “I’m writing my Ph.D. thesis on the subject of cryptozoology, the science of legendary beasts. For your information there are 467 sightings confirmed after faulty vision, hoaxes and secondhand reports have been eliminated. I have them all categorized in my computer at the university; nature of sightings, including weather and sea conditions in which sightings took place; geographical distribution, distinguishing characteristics, color, shape and size. Through graphics-rendering techniques I can backtrack the beasts’ evolution. To answer your question, they’ve probably evolved from dinosaurs in a manner similar to alligators and crocodiles. But they are definitely not `leftovers.’ The Plesiosaurs, the species most often thought to have survived as present-day sea serpents, never exceeded sixteen meters, far smaller than Basil, for example.”
“All right, I’ll reserve judgment until you convince me they truly exist.”
“There are six primary species,” she lectured. “The most sightings have been of along-necked creature with one main hump and with head and jaws similar to that of a large dog. Next is one that is always described as having the head of a horse with a mane and saucer-shaped eyes. This creature is also reported to have goatlike whiskers under its lower jaw.”
“‘Goat whiskers,’” Pitt repeated cynically.
“Then there is the variety with a true serpentine body like that of an eel. Another has the appearance of a giant sea otter, while yet another is known for its row of huge, triangular fins. The kind most often pictured has many dorsal humps, an egg-shaped head and big doglike muzzle. This serpent is almost always reported as being black on top and white on the bottom. Some have seal— or turtlelike flippers or fins, some do not. Some grow enormously long tails, others a short stub. Many are described as having fur, most others are silky smooth. The colors vary from yellow-gray to brown to black. Almost all witnesses agree that the lower part of the bodies is white. Unlike most true sea and land snakes, which propel themselves by wiggling side-to-side, the serpent moves by making vertical undulations. It appears to dine on fish, only shows itself in calm weather and has been observed in every sea except the waters around the Arctic and Antarctic.”
“How do you know all these sightings were not misinterpreted?” asked Pitt. “They could have been basking sharks, clumps of seaweed, porpoises swimming in single file, or even a giant squid.”
“In most cases there was more than one observer,” retorted Maeve. “Many of the viewers were sea captains of great integrity. Captain Arthur Rostron was one.”
“I know the name. He was captain of the Carpathia, the ship that picked up the Titanic survivors.”
“He witnessed a creature that appeared in great distress, as if it were injured.”
“Witnesses may be completely honest, but mistaken,” Pitt insisted. “Until a serpent, or a piece of one, is handed over to scientists to dissect and study, there is no proof.”
“Why can’t reptiles twenty to fifty meters in length, with snakelike features, still live in the seas as they did during the Mesozoic era? The sea is not a crystal windowpane. We cannot see into its depths and scan far horizons as on land. Who knows how many giant species, still unknown to science, roam the seas?”
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Pitt said, his eyes smiling. “What category does Basil fall into?”
“I’ve classified Basil as a mega-eel. He has a cylindrical body thirty meters long, ending in a tail with a point. His head is slightly blunt like the common eel’s but with a wide canine mouth filled with sharp teeth. He is bluish with a white belly, and his jet-black eyes are as large as a serving dish. He undulates in the horizontal like other eels and snakes. Twice I saw him raise the front part of his body a good ten meters out of the water before falling back with a great splash.”
“When did you first see him?”
“When I was about ten,” Maeve answered. “Deirdre and I were sailing about the lagoon in a little cutter our mother had given us, when suddenly I had this strange sensation of being watched. A cold shiver shot up my spine. Deirdre acted as if nothing was happening. I slowly turned around. There, about twenty meters behind our stern, was a head and neck rising about three meters out of the water. The thing had two glistening black eyes that were staring at us.”
“How thick was the neck?”
“A good two meters in diameter, as big as a wine vat, as father often described it.”
“He saw it too?”
“The whole family observed Basil on any number of occasions, but usually when someone was about to die.”
“Go on with your description.”
“The beast looked like a dragon out of a child’s nightmare. I was petrified and couldn’t say a word or scream, while Deirdre kept staring over the bow. Her attention was focused on telling me when to tack so we wouldn’t run onto the outer reef.”
“Did it make a move toward you?” Pitt asked.
“No. It just stared at us and made no attempt to molest the boat as we sailed away from it.”
“Deirdre never saw it.”
“Not at that time, but she later sighted it on two different occasions.”
“How did your father react when you told him what you had seen?”
“He laughed and said, ‘So you’ve finally met Basil.’”
“You said the serpent made itself known when there was a death?”
“A family fable with some kernel of truth. Basil was seen in the lagoon by the crew of a visiting whaler when Betsy Fletcher was buried, and later when my great-aunt Mildred and my mother died, both in violent circumstances.”
“Coincidence or fate?”
Maeve shrugged. “Who can say? The only thing 1 can be sure of is that my father murdered my mother.”
“Like Grandfather Henry supposedly killed his sister Mildred.”
She gave him a strange look. “You know about that too.”
“Public knowledge.”
She stared over the black sea to where it met the stars, the bright moon illuminating her eyes, which seemed to grow darker and sadder. “The last three generations of Dorsetts haven’t exactly set virtuous standards.”
“Your mother’s name was Irene.”
Maeve nodded silently.
“How did she die?” Pitt asked gently.
“She would have eventually died, brokenhearted from the abuse heaped upon her by the man she desperately loved. But while walking along the cliffs with my father, she slipped and fell to her death in the surf below.” An expression of hatred became etched on her delicate face. “He pushed her,” she said coldly. “My father pushed her to her death as sure as there are stars in the universe.”
Pitt held her tightly and felt her shudder. “Tell me about your sisters,” he said, changing the subject.
The look of hatred faded, and her features became delicate again. “Not much to tell. I was never very close to either of them. Deirdre was the sneaky one. If I had something she wanted, she simply stole it and pretended it was hers all along. Of the three, Deirdre was Daddy’s little girl. He lavished most of his affection on her, I guess because they were kindred spirits. Deirdre lives in a fantasy world created by her own deceit. She can’t tell the truth even when there is no reason to lie.”