The Legend of the Corrib King (5 page)

Jamesie pulled strongly and silently on the oars. ‘I'm used to taking people out duck shooting in the evenings, so this is nothing new to me. Don't worry, I know the lake like the back of my hand.'

The night had turned chilly. Jamesie pulled his collar up around his neck and the others snuggled down into their coats and hugged the side of the boat. Soon the first island slipped past them, and up ahead they could see the dark blob they knew to be Illaun na Shee. The creaking of the boat's timbers and the gentle splashing of the oars seemed to be very loud now. Jamesie rested the oars for a moment and warned, ‘No talking until we put ashore. Remember what I said. Sounds carry a long way on the water.'

‘Shush, listen,' said Tapser. Prince had pricked up his ears and alerted him to a sound.

‘What is it?' whispered Róisín.

‘Voices,' answered Tapser.

‘Children's voices,' Cowlick told her.

‘Martin said it was an enchanted island, remember?' said Jamesie.

‘It's just like that story you were telling us,' whispered Róisín. ‘Children's voices from the
Fairy Queen
.'

‘I don't like it,' muttered Rachel.

‘Here,' said Jamesie, reaching into his pocket. ‘Put these on. As I said before, if it's the little people you're worried about, they'll keep you safe.'

‘What is it?' asked Rachel, taking hers.

‘It's a necklace made from a horseshoe nail.'

‘And what good is that?' asked Róisín.

‘That's the way people used to protect their children in the olden days,' Jamesie told them. ‘Just put them on and be quiet.'

Knowing they were in no position to argue, they all slipped the necklaces over their heads and said nothing. The sounds of the children's voices had died away now and there was silence. Jamesie pulled on the oars again and they strained their eyes to try to pierce the darkness of the island. All they could see was its black outline etched starkly against the brightness of the moon.

A few minutes later they were in under the shadow of the island. Jamesie brought in his oars and they glided to a halt in a muddy inlet. Trying not to make any noise, they helped him tie the mooring rope to a large stone, and hunkered down.

‘We're just around the corner from where we were earlier today,' Jamesie informed them. ‘Try and keep Prince quiet, and stay close to me.'

None of them needed a second bidding. They held on tightly to each other and Tapser brought up the rear with Prince.

‘I'm glad you brought Prince,' whispered Rachel.

‘So am I,' replied Tapser.

‘Shush,' warned Jamesie. ‘If they hear you it'll spoil everything.'

Jamesie knew the island well and even in the darkness was able to take them unerringly over the rocks and through the bushes. Suddenly he stopped and said, ‘Listen.'

They paused. For a moment all they could hear was the sound of their breathing after the exertion of the climb. Then they heard it. It was the voices again. Happy voices. The voices of children playing.

Following Jamesie nearer to the sounds, the others took the horseshoe nails out of the open necks of their shirts and fingered them as if their lives depended on them. This was no time, they thought, to be doubting the existence of fairies or whether necklaces of horseshoe nails would keep them out of their clutches. If there was any possibility of Jamesie being right, it was better to be on the safe side!

They were coming closer to the sound of the voices now, and while Tapser was glad he had brought Prince along he was worried that he might not be able to hold him back, for he felt the collie tensing under his hand.

In a moment they were at the edge of the clearing, and they were hardly able to believe what they saw. There, only a short distance in front of them, several small figures were dancing around the hillock in a fairy ring.

‘And look,' whispered Jamesie, nudging the others. ‘Up there.'

‘What is it?' asked Tapser, holding the quivering collie firmly with both hands.

‘A banshee,' choked Jamesie.

Sure enough, sitting in the moonlight beside the fairy thorn was an old woman. She had a dark shawl around her head, and even in the light of the moon they could see she was small and wizened.

At that moment, Prince squirmed free and rushed forward barking. ‘Prince,' shouted Tapser. ‘Prince, come back.' But it was too late. By the time he had brought Prince under control again, they had gone.

An eerie silence fell on the clearing. ‘Come on,' whispered Tapser. ‘Let's follow them.'

‘Better not,' cautioned Jamesie. ‘They say that if you go into a fairy ring you'll never find your way out again.'

‘Oh do be quiet, Jamesie,' said Róisín sharply. ‘Didn't you see they were just ordinary children?'

Edging forward, they could see that the children and the old woman must have made their way down a steep slope to the shore.

‘If they're real children, what are they doing out here at this time of night?' asked Jamesie as they lay down and scanned the shore. ‘Unless …'

‘Unless what?' asked Cowlick.

‘Unless the poachers
are
using this island.'

‘That's it,' exclaimed Tapser. ‘They belong to the poachers.'

‘And here they come now,' warned Cowlick.

In the light of the moon they could see the dark figures of several men running along the lake shore towards them. Some had sticks in their hands and judging from the flash of metal others had more dangerous weapons.

‘Let's get out of here,' said Róisín.

As they got up to go, Jamesie gasped, ‘It's their nets. We've been lying on their nets.'

‘You're right,' said Tapser. ‘Gather round, all of you, and give me a hand.'

The poachers were coming up the slope now, gasping and cursing and brandishing their weapons.

‘Now!' shouted Tapser, and with one accord they swung the heap of netting out and over the figures scrambling up the slope. Pausing only long enough to see the poachers fall backwards and tumble down the slope in a tangle of their own nets, they turned and raced back across the clearing. For a moment Prince stood at the top of the slope barking, then turned and followed them.

On reaching the boat they stopped and listened. There were no sounds of pursuit, but they shoved off and rowed out onto the lake. Slowly the dark blob of Illaun na Shee fell away behind them, and for what seemed like a long time the clamour of angry voices could be heard following them across the darkened water.

‘Hallo, hallo, hallo,' came a voice from the clearing.

The boys jumped up and opened the flap of their tent to find Martin parking his bicycle against the Scots pine tree. They rubbed their eyes and Jamesie said, ‘Boy, are we glad to see you.'

‘Well you don't look like it,' said Martin taking off his bicycle clips. ‘You look as if you've been up all night.'

‘We have,' Tapser told him. ‘Or a good bit of it. We ran into the poachers last night.'

‘And their children,' added Cowlick. ‘In the fairy ring over on the island. Honest, Jamesie will tell you.'

‘No doubt he will,' said Martin. ‘All right, you'd better get dressed and tell me what you've been up to.'

The girls came down out of the caravan a few minutes later. Martin helped to get a fire going and as Tapser held a panful of sizzling rashers over it, he told Martin, ‘We really did see the poachers last night.'

‘On Illaun na Shee,' Jamesie informed him.

‘And they chased us,' said Róisín.

‘They had knives and everything,' said Rachel. ‘I thought we were done for.'

‘We would have been too,' declared Cowlick, ‘if we hadn't thrown the nets over them.'

‘Hold it,' said Martin. ‘Hold it just a minute. Are you serious? Are you saying you really did have a run-in with poachers last night?'

They nodded and he added, ‘All right, start from the beginning and tell me everything that happened.'

Between them they told him about the conversation they had overheard and their visit to the island.

When they had finished Martin asked, ‘And what possessed you to go to Illaun na Shee in the middle of the night?'

‘Well, first of all,' replied Róisín, ‘we thought maybe the second part of the poem was the clue to where Pakie was being held. You know, the bit about fairies and witches.'

‘And he had already sent us a puzzle about fairies on the island,' added Rachel.

‘Then the two men were talking about a prisoner and an island,' said Cowlick.

‘And about the little people,' said Jamesie. ‘And then we saw the fairy ring on Illaun na Shee.'

‘And who said it was a fairy ring?' asked Martin sternly. Jamesie lowered his head and Martin added, ‘All right, no need to tell me. I can guess.'

‘You can say what you like,' said Tapser, ‘but we were right. There were poachers on the island.'

‘All right,' said Martin, nodding his head. ‘We'll go over and have a look.'

They put out the fire with the water that was left in the kettle, and made their way down to the boathouse.

‘How did you know where to find us?' asked Cowlick.

‘Oh, it wasn't difficult,' Martin told him, and with a glance at Jamesie added, ‘I guessed you wouldn't be far away from Uncle Pakie's place.'

Martin rowed across this time, and a short while later they were peering out of the bushes at the fairy thorn on Illaun na Shee. They could see the ring of trampled grass clearly, but of the children there was no sign. Or of the poachers. The beach below the slope was also deserted, but there were plenty of signs of recent occupation.

Outside a small cave they found the remains of a campfire. Martin felt it and said, ‘The ashes are still warm.'

‘And here's a piece of net,' said Tapser who had gone into the cave.

Martin examined it and muttered, ‘Monofilament.'

‘What?' asked Cowlick.

‘Monofilament,' Martin repeated. ‘All netting in fresh water is banned, but this is the worst kind.'

‘Why's that?' asked Rachel.

‘Because the salmon can't see it in the water,' Jamesie explained. ‘It's deadly. It doesn't give them a chance.'

‘Being nylon, the water doesn't soak into it,' said Martin. ‘So it's also light and handy. Just the thing for poaching.'

‘There's no doubt about it then,' asked Róisín, ‘that the men who chased us were poachers?'

‘No doubt at all,' said Martin. ‘And you're lucky they didn't catch you. They're making a lot of money out of this game and they don't like anybody interfering.'

‘I wonder if they were holding Uncle Pakie here?' asked Jamesie.

‘I don't see anything to suggest he was kept here,' replied Martin, ‘but who's to say? Come on, we'll have a look around before we go.'

With Prince's help they searched the rest of the island, but there was no further sign of the poachers or of their prisoner.

Back at the campsite beside Pakie's place, they asked Martin what he thought of the meaning they had read into the poem.

Martin took it out of his breast pocket and read it over to himself. ‘You could be right.'

‘That's not what you said when we asked you back at the house,' Rachel reminded him.

‘Well,' said Martin, ‘I didn't want to say too much in front of my mother. She's worried enough as it is.'

‘What do your superiors think about it?' asked Róisín.

‘My superiors?' laughed Martin. ‘Can you imagine me giving a poem to the Super and telling him I thought it was a secret message from my Uncle Pakie? A poem that was found in a dead salmon. Sure, I'd be laughed out of the force.'

‘But you do think that's what it is – a message from Uncle Pakie?' asked Jamesie.

‘Well I'm not sure,' said Martin. ‘But I suppose it could be.'

‘Jamesie seems to think he was after a gang of poachers when he disappeared,' said Tapser.

‘Look,' said Martin, ‘this is something I haven't discussed much at home because I don't want my mother getting upset.'

‘I'd say she has a fair idea,' said Jamesie.

‘Maybe so, but I think she'd just prefer not to talk about it, that's all.'

‘We won't talk about it,' promised Róisín. ‘We won't even tell her we've had a brush with the poachers.'

‘You can say that again,' said Cowlick.

‘All right then,' said Martin, ‘say nothing about last night, or what I'm going to tell you.'

‘You mean you're not going to even mention it at home?' asked Jamesie.

‘Didn't I tell you they've enough to worry about. But you must promise to stay away from Illaun na Shee.'

They promised, and Martin went on, ‘Pakie was close to them all right. You see, he's been working in cooperation with us for some time to try and catch this gang. They first came to our notice last winter, during the closed season. No fishing is allowed anywhere during the closed season so that the fish can spawn, but fresh salmon were still turning up in some of the big hotels and classy restaurants.'

‘And you think that was two of the poachers we saw at the travellers' camp?' asked Cowlick.

‘Probably, but I wouldn't say they're travellers. No, this gang have it well organised, and I'd say the two you saw were just using the camp as a handy meeting-place, you know, where they could do their business without attracting attention.'

‘You mean, like organising supplies and things,' asked Tapser.

‘Something like that … A green van, you said. I don't suppose you noticed the number by any chance?'

They shook their heads.

‘Or the make? Ah well, don't worry, I know the type of van you're talking about. I'll get the lads in the patrol cars to check a few of them out.'

‘I didn't think it would be worthwhile,' said Róisín. ‘I mean, selling fish like that.'

‘Oh it's worthwhile all right,' Martin assured her. ‘It's not like the old days when Pakie would gaff an odd salmon to feed the family. Wild Irish salmon are a great delicacy now, and there's big money to be made from them. That's why the poachers have organised themselves into gangs, and they won't let anyone stand in their way either, as the fishery people will tell you. Several waterkeepers have been injured trying to stop them, and not only in this part of the country.'

‘But why is it so important to stop them?' asked Cowlick.

‘Because the salmon must be given a chance to spawn,' said Jamesie. ‘Otherwise they could be wiped out.'

‘You probably know about the salmon,' continued Martin. ‘They're hatched out in a gravelly part of a river.'

‘A redd,' said Rachel. ‘Like it says in Pakie's poem.'

Martin nodded. ‘And when they're old enough they go to sea. Then, when they're bigger, they come back to the very same river to spawn. Already this year trawlermen using these monofilament nets – nets maybe up to a mile long – have been catching them on their way back along the coast, and that's illegal too. That's why the Naval Service has been clashing with them. You see, only a certain amount of salmon fishing is allowed at sea, and you must be licensed and use the right kind of nets. For, as Jamesie says, if enough salmon don't get back up the rivers to spawn they could be wiped out.'

‘We reckon that's what Pakie means,' said Tapser, ‘when he says,
Seek not the pike that struck him down, But the hand that seeks to take the crown
.'

‘That it's not the pike fish that are the problem,' said Róisín, ‘but the poachers.'

‘That's my reckoning too,' Martin told them. ‘But I didn't think you'd come across them on Illaun na Shee. We searched it and found nothing. We've checked out a good few of the islands.'

‘I thought you said there wasn't much poaching up around this end of the lake,' recalled Cowlick.

‘So I did,' said Martin, ‘but they're probably using the islands up here to hide out on and store their nets. If you go up to the hatchery in Cong you'll see some of the nets that have already been seized this year. I reckon they move around from one island to another so as to be one step ahead of us. They probably came back to Illaun na Shee knowing we had already searched it.'

‘And what were their children doing?'

‘Well, they probably lie low during the day, so I'd say their children were out stretching their legs when you saw them dancing around the fairy thorn last night.' Martin paused. ‘But what does the rest of the poem mean? That's the problem. Where are we to look for them now? And where are they holding Pakie?'

‘We haven't been able to figure out the rest of it either,' said Cowlick.

‘But we're working on it,' added Rachel.

‘Well, don't be going and getting yourselves into any more trouble,' warned Martin. ‘If you get any more bright ideas, let me know before you do anything.'

‘That's what we tried to do,' Jamesie told him, ‘but that other guard only laughed at us.'

‘You can hardly blame him,' said Martin, ‘when you come in talking about fairies and things. You have to be sensible.' He threw a leg over his bicycle and got ready to go.

‘What are you going to do now?' asked Jamesie.

‘Have a look around for those two buckos in the green van. And remember what I told you, keep away from Illaun na Shee or I'll have to send you home. As I said, these people are dangerous, so leave them to us.'

When Martin had cycled off up the lane they lit the fire again and started to get their dinner ready. Nuadha was grazing contentedly nearby and Prince was hopping around trying in vain to catch a white butterfly.

‘Well, at least he's not a clipe,' said Rachel.

‘A what?' asked Jamesie.

‘A clipe. You know, a clash-bag, a tell-tale.'

Jamesie smiled. He found some of their northern sayings very amusing.

‘The man with the rings,' said Cowlick. ‘What fair could he have meant?'

Jamesie shrugged. ‘There's a fair in Clonbur. But that isn't until Friday.'

‘Still,' said Tapser, ‘that could be the one.'

‘In the meantime,' said Róisín, ‘unless we spot that van, we've got to figure out the rest of the poem. I think that's where the real clue is, the clue maybe even to where Pakie's being held prisoner.'

‘It seems to be trying to tell us where the story is,' said Rachel. ‘You know,
Beneath tall spires of gold the Story is told.
But the only story I know that has a capital S is the Bible.'

‘That's true,' said Tapser. He thought for a moment, then exclaimed, ‘The Bible, spires – a church! Some place where there's a church!'

‘What about that other island you told us about, Jamesie?' asked Cowlick. ‘Remember, you said there was a church on it.'

‘Inchagoill?' Jamesie shook his head. ‘Too many tourists go there. It must mean something else.'

The white butterfly landed on a tall plant growing on the edge of the clearing and began to explore one of its purple, bell-shaped flowers. Prince was dancing around with his head in the air looking for it, and Rachel rushed over and shooed it away before he could find it. When she returned she sat down and burst some of the bells against the palm of her hand.