The Legend of the Corrib King (7 page)

‘Aye, why do you call her Biddy?' asked Cowlick.

Jamesie smiled. ‘Everybody calls her that – after Biddy Early, the Wise Woman of Clare. Uncle Pakie told me about her. She lived a long time ago, and some people thought she was a witch, for she had strange powers. She could forecast things and cure people.' He looked at Rachel. ‘And she had this famous bottle. Blue, I think it was. It was supposed to be a magic bottle, and if she cured people she took no money for it, only meat and poteen.'

‘Well, Biddy of the Lake is no witch,' asserted Rachel. ‘As a matter of fact I think she's very nice. Anyway, this is only an oul' magnesia bottle she gave me, a tonic for Pakie.'

‘I think she's nice too,' said Róisín, ‘and she's very knowledgeable about flowers and things.'

‘And she's given us our best clue yet,' said Tapser.

‘But how do we get to this island?' asked Cowlick. ‘Can we row to it as well?'

Jamesie shook his head. ‘It's too far. We'll have to use the outboard engine this time, at least part of the way.'

‘Will that not get you into trouble?' asked Róisín. ‘I mean, taking it without asking.'

‘It'll be all right,' muttered Jamesie, and he went off towards the boathouse.

Jamesie seemed to know what he could and could not do, so the others didn't argue. Instead they followed him down to the boathouse. Somehow he managed to open the door to where the outboard engines were kept and they helped him carry one out and clamp it to the stern of the boat.

‘I thought all the islands around here had Irish names,' said Tapser. ‘You know, Illaun-this and Incha-that.'

Jamesie laid the oars along the middle of the boat between them. ‘Some of them, not all,' he replied. ‘There's Butterfly Island. Rabbit Island.'

Tapser was about to say that Rabbit Island didn't sound very poetic, when the outboard engine roared into life and conversation became impossible. Words, however, soon became unnecessary and even inadequate to describe any of the islands. For as they were propelled across the water, now smooth and silvery as a mirror, the sun was beginning to dip behind the mountains of Connemara and was giving Uncle Pakie's lake an unspoken poetry of its own.

When they had travelled for some time, Jamesie throttled back on the engine, then silenced it completely. An eerie stillness filled the twilight. Quietly he put the oars into place and started to row. By now Tapser and Cowlick had got the hang of rowing, and took turns to help him pull them closer to their objective.

Lusmore Island seemed no different than any of the others they had seen. It was overgrown with bushes and capped with a canopy of Scots pines, a familiar feature of many of the islands. However, even in the fading light they could see that a profusion of purple foxgloves grew on its stony shore.

If the truth be known, more than one of them clasped the horseshoe nails that Jamesie had given them when going to Illaun na Shee. This time it wasn't for fear of anything he had told them, but out of nervousness. Somehow they knew this was for real. This was where they might find Pakie and the people who held him.

Creeping up a long winding path, they came to a low stone wall with a stile. Beyond the wall, in a secluded clearing beneath the trees, they could see the ruins of an ancient church. It was a very small church by modern-day standards and it had no roof. Nevertheless they could see that it was occupied, for tongues of flame flickered on the inside of the walls.

‘The poachers!' whispered Jamesie.

‘What are we going to do?' asked Rachel.

Below them, in a sheltered cove, they could make out the dark shape of a motor cruiser tied up at a small pier.

‘I think we should put their boat out of action!' suggested Tapser.

Cowlick nodded. ‘Good idea.'

‘We'll do it,' said Róisín. ‘Come on, Rachel, I've an idea.'

Before Cowlick or the others could object, the girls hurried back down the path, and a short time later their shadowy figures could be seen slipping on board the cruiser.

‘The poachers must be using the church as a hideout,' whispered Cowlick.

‘I wonder if they've got Uncle Pakie in there?' asked Jamesie.

‘I daren't go any closer with Prince,' said Tapser. ‘Maybe you two could get a look inside. I'll keep guard in case anyone comes.'

Cowlick ran his fingers through his cow's-lick curl and took a deep breath. ‘Okay.'

‘Right,' said Jamesie. ‘Keep close to me and be careful they don't hear us.'

The two of them tiptoed across to the nearest window, and Tapser saw Cowlick helping Jamesie up so that he could look in.

Next minute a dog's barking broke the silence. Cowlick and Jamesie fell back, picked themselves up and ran over to rejoin Tapser behind the wall. At the same time Prince broke free to run forward and engage a small terrier that had bounded out of the church. There were shouts of surprise inside and several men charged out to see what was happening.

‘The man with the rings,' whispered Cowlick.

‘And Uncle Pakie's in there,' gasped Jamesie. ‘I saw him.'

‘Well, we can't help him now,' said Tapser. ‘Let's get out of here before they catch us too.'

Prince and the terrier were snapping and snarling at each other as they rolled over and over in the grass. The men rushed over to separate them and looked around to see who the collie belonged to.

‘There they are,' cried one of the men. ‘After them.'

By now Tapser, Cowlick and Jamesie were racing back down the darkened path.

‘Quick,' panted Jamesie, ‘into the bushes. It's our only chance.'

A few moments later they heard the men running down past them towards the shore.

‘I hope Róisín and Rachel are all right,' said Cowlick.

‘Don't worry,' Tapser told him, ‘they'll have heard the noise and had plenty of time to hide.'

They crawled further into the undergrowth and a short time later heard the men coming back up the path.

‘It's probably those youngsters again,' they heard one man saying.

‘Well, we'll never find them in the dark,' said another. ‘And you wouldn't know who they are. We'll have to move out.'

When the men had gone out of earshot, Cowlick whispered, ‘They won't be moving very far, not if the girls can help it.'

‘And that gives us a chance to tell Martin we've found Uncle Pakie,' said Jamesie.

‘Right,' said Tapser. ‘Back to the boat.'

When they reached the shore, however, there was no sign of their boat – or of the girls. Frantically they peered into the gathering darkness and called their names as loudly as they dared. There was no reply. A short time later, the engine of the motor cruiser started up and roared away into the night.

When the sound of the poachers' boat had died away in the distance, Cowlick shouted, ‘Róisín, Rachel, where are you?'

On hearing the commotion up at the church, the girls had taken cover in the undergrowth. Then they had listened to all the shouting and running about, fearful that the others had been caught.

‘Here we are,' answered Rachel, as they made their way over.

‘What happened?' asked Cowlick. ‘I thought you were supposed to put their boat out of action?'

‘We tried to,' said Róisín, ‘but it doesn't seem to have worked.'

‘You can say that again,' panted Tapser. ‘They've gone and so is our boat.'

‘Oh no,' cried Rachel, ‘that means we're stranded.'

‘We can worry about that later,' said Jamesie. ‘Let's see if we can find Uncle Pakie.'

‘Jamesie says he saw him with the poachers in the church,' Cowlick told them. ‘Come on.'

As they headed back up the path, Prince joined them. The fire was still burning on the floor of the little church, but everyone had gone, including Pakie.

Jamesie sat down on a large stone beside the fire. ‘They must have taken him with them,' he said.

The others sat down too and gazed into the burning embers.

‘At least we know he's still alive,' said Cowlick.

‘But where do we look for him now?' wondered Róisín. ‘This was the last clue in the poem.'

‘If only we could let the police know,' said Tapser. ‘But we're stuck here, and they've got clean away.'

‘Don't worry,' said Jamesie, putting on more wood that the poachers had left beside the fire. ‘We'll be snug here. In the morning we'll try and attract somebody's attention. Someone's bound to spot us.'

It was a long night. Even though they pulled their coats and jackets tightly around them, and kept the fire going as best they could, the cold always seemed to wake them. Or perhaps it was the fear that the poachers might come back. If it was, they worried needlessly, for nothing disturbed the stillness of the night except their own twisting and turning, and eventually the sun rose to clear away the darkness from the Corrib and any fears they might have had.

During the morning they waited around the lake shore to see if they could get anyone to come to their aid. At one stage they spotted two people in an open boat stopping to fish, but they were too far away. Later, another boat went past with a party of anglers, but when they waved frantically at them, the anglers just waved back.

‘It's no use,' said Rachel, ‘we'll never get off this island.'

‘Of course we will,' smiled Róisín. ‘It's not as if we're on a desert island.'

‘Let's go back up to the church,' Tapser suggested. ‘If we keep the fire going somebody might see the smoke and come to investigate.'

No one could think of a better idea, so they collected what dry wood they could find and took it with them.

Cowlick sat down with his back against the inside of the church wall. ‘I don't know about the rest of you,' he said, ‘but I'm hungry.'

‘Here,' laughed Tapser, ‘maybe a raw spud'll keep you happy.'

They had found half a dozen potatoes and two trout which the poachers had left behind.

‘We've no way of frying the trout,' said Róisín, ‘but we could bake the potatoes in the fire.'

‘I saw Pakie cooking trout in an open fire once,' said Jamesie. ‘We were out fishing together.'

‘How?' asked Cowlick.

‘With wet newspapers and things.'

‘If he did it, why can't we?' suggested Róisín. ‘We could use these.' She picked up some old newspapers the poachers had brought along to light their fires.

‘Well, I never did it myself,' replied Jamesie, ‘but I suppose it's worth a try.'

Leaving Róisín to do the potatoes, the others went down to the lake. There Jamesie cleaned out the trout with his pen-knife, while Rachel soaked the newspapers and Tapser and Cowlick filled a number of old bean cans with mud.

‘Now,' said Jamesie, when they had brought it all back up to the church, ‘let's hope this works.' The others watched as he wrapped sheet after sheet of wet newspaper around each trout and caked it with mud.

‘You have to make sure they're completely covered,' he told them. He pushed the trout in beside the potatoes and heaped hot embers on them. ‘Pakie says it's just like steaming them.'

A short time later they found to their surprise and delight that Pakie was right. The trout were so well done they were able to pick them to the bones with their fingers. And the potatoes were cooked almost as well. All they were short of was salt, but that didn't worry them.

‘That's the best meal we've had yet,' said Tapser. ‘I could eat the same again.'

‘Listen,' said Jamesie, ‘a boat.'

‘Maybe it's the poachers coming back,' said Rachel.

Jamesie shook his head. ‘It's an outboard engine. Come on.'

Sensing their excitement, Prince barked and ran ahead of them down the path. Emerging from the bushes, they saw a man in a boat going slowly past with an empty boat in tow.

‘It's Martin,' they shouted. ‘Martin! Martin!'

Turning around, Martin saw their dancing figures on the shore. He immediately throttled back on the engine, and came in to them. Quickly they told him what had happened, and took him up to the old church.

‘He's been here all right,' said Martin. Among the rubbish the poachers had left, he had found several balls of crumpled paper which showed that Pakie had been passing the time writing more poems. However, there was nothing in them to suggest where he might have been taken.

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

‘Well, when I saw the other boat was gone, and the outboard engine, and your campfire was stone cold, I thought I'd better take a look around. Then I met two fishermen who told me they had found the boat adrift, so I decided to cruise around and see if I could find you. You've no idea the fright you gave me. I was beginning to think you had all drowned.'

‘Sorry,' said Tapser. ‘I suppose we should have told you before coming here.'

‘Arrah,' said Martin, ‘maybe I should have taken my courage in my hands and told the Super about this poem business in the first place. Anyway, I'll have to tell him now.'

‘And we'll have to let them know at home that we've seen Pakie,' said Jamesie.

‘Leave that to me,' said Martin. ‘As I told you before, they've enough to worry about without having to worry about you lot as well. I'll just tell them we've good reason to believe that Pakie is alive and well. That'll give them enough hope. Anything more would only add to their fears.'

He paused. ‘Anyway, the question is, where have the poachers taken Pakie now?'

‘I hope we haven't ruined everything,' Rachel said.

‘Maybe not,' Martin reassured her. ‘For all the poachers know they were just disturbed by some young people, and if they don't know the gardaí have been alerted we may have a good chance of getting them.'

They followed Martin down to the boats, and as they got ready to shove off, he added, ‘We'll be carrying out a lot more searches now, so stay away from the islands – all of them. Is that clear?'

There was no mistaking the serious tone of his voice, so they all nodded solemnly.

‘And what about Clonbur tomorrow?' asked Jamesie.

‘That's right,' said Rachel. ‘The man with the rings said they would meet at the fair.'

‘I haven't forgotten,' Martin assured them. ‘There'll be some of our people at it. So I want you to stay away from there too, just in case the poachers recognise you and give them the slip. Come on now, it's time we were getting back.'

* * *

Having helped them put the engines back in the boathouse, Martin returned to his station to make out his report. Somehow they all now felt at a loose end, disappointed that they weren't being allowed to help any further in the search for their Uncle Pakie.

Róisín could have been speaking for them all when she said, ‘I don't care what anyone says, they'll never find that van without us. Dear knows what colour it is now.'

‘Come on,' Jamesie suggested, ‘let's go into Cong.'

‘Good idea,' said Cowlick. ‘We need matches anyway.'

‘And I'm hungry again,' said Rachel.

As they made their way into the village, Róisín wondered about the motor cruiser the poachers had used. ‘Maybe that's the boat they were talking about when they said they were taking him to the fairy queen.'

‘If it was a boat they were talking about,' said Jamesie.

‘Well, whatever they meant, they also said nobody would find him so long as they stayed close to the little people,' Tapser recalled. ‘That's the bit that puzzles me.'

‘One thing's for sure,' said Cowlick, ‘if they're going to meet in Clonbur that's the end of the trail for us.'

Parking the caravan at the abbey, they went to a shop to get drinks and sandwiches and some other supplies including matches.

‘Well Jamesie,' said the woman serving him, ‘I suppose you'll be taking your friends to the funfair.'

The others, who were examining some blackthorn walking sticks near the doorway, looked up.

‘What funfair?' asked Jamesie.

‘Out at Nymphsfield. Sure I thought everybody knew about it. Did you not see the poster on the Market Cross?'

Running from the shop, they found a coloured poster on the back of the stone cross, advertising the carnival.

‘That's it!' exclaimed Tapser. ‘The funfair!'

Róisín nodded. ‘We should have thought of it before. Big Jim told us it was coming. And we saw the lorries ourselves.'

‘So we're still on their trail,' smiled Cowlick.

‘But a funfair,' said Rachel. ‘Do you really think that's what the man with the rings meant?'

‘It must have been,' said Cowlick. ‘Look what it says.'

The poster was divided up into a number of sections, advertising the big wheel, swing boats and merry-go-round. But what Cowlick was pointing to was a section headed ‘Titania's Palace'. ‘Remember, we saw the sign on one of the lorries,' he said, and read aloud, ‘See the Fairy Queen and her amazing troupe of acrobatic riders.'

‘The fairy queen,' gasped Jamesie.

‘It's from
A Midsummer Night's Dream
,' Róisín told them, ‘by William Shakespeare. We've done a bit of it at school.'

‘What's it about?' asked Tapser.

‘Titania was the queen of the fairies, and there was one called Puck, and a changeling and all that sort of thing.' Róisín smiled, and added, ‘It's the sort of book you'd enjoy, Jamesie.'

Jamesie, however, was already on his way back to the caravan, certain in his own mind that they had at last discovered what the man with the rings meant when he said ‘I'll take him to the fairy queen.'

As they followed him Cowlick remarked, ‘Sometimes I think we'll wake up and find this whole thing was a dream.'

When they arrived at Nymphsfield they found that while they had been pottering about the lake, the convoy of lorries had been unloaded and a site not far from the road turned into a fairground. They parked the caravan in such a way that they could observe what was going on by just looking out the door, and as they ate their sandwiches they took careful stock of the situation.

There were a number of cream-coloured holiday-type caravans, but these were obviously the homes of the people who ran the funfair. There was no sign of the green van or of the man with the rings. In fact, there were very few people around as it was still early in the day by fairground standards. The gaily-coloured stalls were deserted, and the big wheel, the swings and wooden horses on the merry-go-round were at a standstill. In contrast, a string of little white ponies munched at a pile of hay and moved idly around not far from a fairly large tent which the sign on the wooden arch proclaimed to be Titania's Palace.

‘Must be some sort of circus act,' observed Cowlick.

Shortly after teatime, even though it was still daylight, the carnival lights were switched on, the barrel-organ music rolled out across Nymphsfield, and families and children began to arrive. It wasn't long before a queue began to form outside Titania's Palace, and having checked that they had enough money left, Jamesie and his cousins joined it.

Titania's Palace had been erected a short distance from the usual fairground attractions, and indeed it was billed as something different … ‘An experience to remember, a flight into fairyland, a magical romp with the little people,' blared a voice from a loudspeaker.

‘Did you hear that?' whispered Rachel. ‘This must be it. It
must
be what the fat man was talking about.'