Magnus Fin and the Moonlight Mission (12 page)

Through the rip-tides and currents of the Pentland Firth he ploughed, surging out towards the Orkney Islands. Magnus Fin felt the keenness of his hearing and the sharpness of his nostrils. His long soft whiskers brushed sea grass aside. His tails fins flicked through the water, turning him easily this way and that. As last he knew the freedom and strength of the seal. He heeded the compass of his marine instinct and plunged west towards the wild and rugged headland of Cape Wrath.

Swimming was a joy. His strength felt boundless. He twisted, he turned. Like a bolt through the blue he plunged westward. He cleaved through the racing currents, rounded Cape Wrath then turned north towards Sule Skerrie. On he swam, the only seal in the ocean wearing a moon-stone and a silver locket, which were now tight around his thick seal neck.

Magnus Fin allowed the soft folds of his nostrils to open as he lifted his seal head out of the water. Everything had been worth it for this. He breathed loudly, swivelling his head to the right and left. The moon splashed over the dark sea and threw a clear path ahead. Fin pushed air through his nostrils, thinking how many times, as a boy, he had stood on the rocks and watched seals lift their heads from the water; how
many times he had heard their noisy blowing breath, their haunting howling bark.

Peering down the moon path he tried to spot the island of Sule Skerrie. It was the home of the selkies. The place his father was born. The place selkies went for sanctuary, and when it was time, the place they went to die. He raised his head higher. Was it that far dent on the horizon? He plunged on.

Magnus Fin could swim with the speed and strength of a seal. He had the warm powerful body of a seal. Could he, he wondered, sing with the haunting voice of a seal? Why not? Everything and anything seemed possible tonight. So, lifting his head, he blew through his lips. To his astonishment, a long deep note, like a bagpipe drone, sounded from him and carried through the night air. On and on it echoed.

After his song faded into the silence another note sounded, like an answer from the west, from that far dint on the horizon.

He plunged back into the deep sea and followed that note. Migrating shoals of herring parted as he swam. Wild Atlantic salmon darted away from him. Shrimps and blue lobsters scuttled over the ribbed seabed far beneath him. Northwest Magnus Fin travelled, and always with Miranda in his thoughts.

Fin sensed he was close. Once more the seal’s song, muffled and haunting, reached him. Again Magnus Fin broke the surface of the water. In the air the song grew louder – and there in the distance was the island of Sule Skerrie.

Soon seals swam out to greet him. Their cries and yelps broke on the wind. Above them kittiwakes and
gannets screamed. From this group of curious seals, one approached: a large grey seal with mournful yellow eyes. She swam up to Magnus Fin then guided him in to the island.

Welcome, son of Ragnor, welcome to Sule Skerrie,
she said. Together they dived into the waves that dipped and broke around the island. Fin, although grateful to be welcomed by the seals, wanted only to see his grandmother, quickly, before it was too late.

He looked pleadingly at his guide.
Miranda, you know, is my grandmother. I have come all this way. Can I see her?

The grey seal seemed to hesitate, tipping her head to the side. Then slowly, gravely she nodded. The sea lapped about them.
Come then,
she said,
this way.

Gliding silently the seal guided Magnus Fin to a quiet part of the small island, away from the throng of seals. Fin felt a sadness engulf him. This grey seal had told him nothing about Miranda. Was he too late?

What about the sickness?
Fin asked his guide.
These seals I saw look healthy.

Aye, Fin.
She slowed down now and looked at him.
Miranda took the sickness on to herself, and brought us here, away from the coast. Away from the bay close to where you live, Magnus Fin. Away from the sickness.

And Miranda? My grandmother, how is she?

You won’t know her, Fin. She went too close too often to the sickness trying to gather us up. Each time she grew weaker. In the end she couldn’t swim. Then one seal found the fallen ship, another of the human’s sunken things. Selkies still in the bay would be kept safe in the upturned ship. The sickness couldn’t get into it. Too many selkies were suffering. So many have died.

The seal swam to a jutting rock and slowed down.
Miranda is in that cave. You know our deep-sea caverns, Fin. At the end we selkies choose a place where land and sea meet. Come. Haul up onto the flat stones and use your flippers to rock over.

Magnus Fin said nothing. He followed his guide as
she slithered from the smooth water up onto the hard flat stone. They rocked back and forth over the stones, awkwardly it seemed to Fin. He made slow progress trying to bounce up and down on his belly. Running with two legs would have been much easier, but Fin didn’t have two legs. Suddenly on the land he missed them.

Come on, Magnus Fin. Use the muscle of your whole body. Didn’t you ever push yourself along on your belly as a baby?
The seal waited for him, shaking her old grey head at the poor job Fin was making of slithering.

Well, if Fin ever had slithered along on his belly as a baby he certainly couldn’t remember it. Finally, after much rocking and noisy breathing, Fin arrived at the mouth of the cave.

She’s inside, on a bed of sponge and kelp. Come quietly now and do nothing to upset her.

They bounced and rocked into the cave. Inside it was pitch-black with no glimmer of moonlight.
Your eyes will get used to the light,
the grey seal whispered in her thoughts.
You will see her in a moment. Don’t be shocked, son of Ragnor.

Fin was glad for the darkness. What met his ears was terrible. Each laboured breath coming from inside the cave sounded full of torment. Horrified, Fin could only imagine what his poor grandmother now looked like. It was as though, in every slow rattled breath, Fin heard the scrape and clank of the dumped tanks, fridges, freezers and batteries. In her every wheezing gasp he imagined the polluted water filling his beloved grandmother’s lungs.

After a few moments, Fin’s eyes adjusted to the light
and the cave was no longer a black emptiness. In the seeping grey light Magnus Fin could make out the shrunken figure of his grandmother. But she, Fin saw with shock, could not see him, or anything. Her eyes were white unseeing discs. Her mouth hung open and her teeth were crumbling. It was then Fin became aware of the terrible smell. A stench clung to the back of his throat.

In his shock he had forgotten the medicine he carried. He bit open the locket and sucked up the baby tooth. The locket broke and fell onto the floor of the cave. Fin knew what he had to do: transfer the tiny tooth he carried in his own mouth into the mouth of his grandmother, and he had to do it quickly.

He slithered a few inches forward.

Don’t distress her, Fin. Stay back.

But Fin kept going. This was what he came for. All these M Fs on the rocks were for this. Tarkin stealing the boat was for this. His father telling him to heed his instinct was for this. Getting locked in the sunken ship, then trapped under the fridge and almost losing his sight in the dump – even finding the green-eyed creature – everything was for this.

Fin put his flipper on his belly.
Go on,
it shouted,
go on!
Even though Miranda was distressed at the nearness of another seal, even though she was now whimpering in fear and shaking, Fin knew he had to go right up to her.

The grey seal cried out behind him,
Magnus Fin, you are upsetting her. She has enough to bear. Stop in the name of Neptune – I command you to stop!

Magnus Fin drew level with his grandmother’s nose. This too was in the name of Neptune. Hadn’t the great
Neptune himself called on Magnus Fin?

In a flash, he nuzzled his own soft mouth inside Miranda’s, then parted his lips to allow the baby tooth to roll into her mouth. Quickly he drew back his face, lifted his flippers and with them closed her mouth.

The grey seal gasped. She rocked forward to stop him, honking loudly in her distress.
You’re killing her. Stop it!

She tried to push Fin away. Though old, she was strong. With her head she pushed at Fin’s head.
Leave her!
her thoughts cried out.
It was a mistake to bring you here. Have you gone mad?
She hit him hard, thumping his head, forcing him to loosen his grip on Miranda’s mouth.

She reared up and was about to roll down on top of Fin when suddenly Miranda moved. The grey seal drew back in shock. She stared in disbelief as Miranda slowly, purposefully, worked her crumbling jaws and swallowed her grandson’s medicine.

The grey seal stared, a tear rolling down her face. Her honks of distress changed to whimpers of disbelief.
I’m sorry, Magnus Fin,
she said, not able to take her eyes away from Miranda who was gently nodding her head.
Forgive me.

Magnus Fin slumped back against the wall of the cave. The old grey nurse seal rocked over to him and now nuzzled the throbbing places which moments earlier she had fiercely whacked.

Miranda’s laboured breathing grew quieter. The rattle softened. Over and over the grey seal whispered her apologies to Magnus Fin, but though Fin tried to focus his mind, the thought-speech seemed suddenly closed to
him. So he lifted his painful flipper and gently stroked the nurse seal’s sleek head. Of course he forgave her; even though his head throbbed and his flipper ached he understood she had been trying to protect Miranda.

Now they both watched in the shadow-grey light as Miranda lifted her head from its pillow of sponge. Her nostrils quivered as she sniffed the air. Fin thought of his last baby tooth, now crunched down and hopefully working its magic inside her. Miranda stretched her long silvery neck. Then she spread her flippers wide on the mattress of seaweed and raised herself up. She moved forward an inch, then two.

Spellbound, Magnus Fin and the grey seal watched from the dark shadows of the cave. They didn’t dare move, lest whatever was happening might suddenly stop. They listened as Miranda exhaled loudly. The putrid smell that rushed from her nostrils was the smell of the dump. The rush of breath and foul smell threatened to overpower the two watching seals. Again and again Miranda exhaled, as though expelling all the poison she had carried.

Once more Miranda lifted her head, easier this time, and opening her mouth she cried out. Her cry, like a victory trumpet, lifted into the night air and travelled across the ocean.

All the seals playing in the moonlit waters around Sule Skerrie heard it.

Shuna and the other seals in the quarantine of the sunken ship, far away in the North Sea, heard it.

Aquella and Ronan on the beach by the cave heard it.

Ragnor, who had stepped outside for a lungful of fresh air, heard it.

Even the winkle picker, making a fire in the cave by the beach heard it.

All those with ears to hear heard the news: Miranda, the bright one of the sea, was well again.

For a long while Aquella hugged her brother. The brown gunge stuck to her. The barnacles dug into her. The rotten seaweed almost smothered her. But none of that mattered. She had found her brother and he needed her like never before. That was all that mattered. She felt him trembling as she pressed him close. She heard him struggle to find words: “I – it – cold – so – so …”

“Hush,” she whispered, finding his ear behind the wild bush of hair, “hush Ronan. If you’re cold I’ll make a big fire. Look! You have come to the beach by Ragnor’s cave.”

Ronan was now shaking like a leaf. Aquella found his hand. She gasped when the long curled nails dug into her soft palm. She tried to guide her brother up the beach towards the cave. His legs buckled under him. He stumbled and fell, like someone who hasn’t walked for a very long time. She bent down, scooped him into her arms and carried him to the cave, stumbling under his weight.

Tarkin saw none of this. As soon as he realised that something alive was clambering out of the net he clasped his hands over his eyes. He’d learnt his lesson. He wouldn’t go spying and prying into the selkie world again. He had his voice back, and he wanted to keep it.

But the winkle picker, leaning against the mouth of the cave, saw it. He withdrew into the cave and struck a match, setting light to the spire of driftwood he had gathered. In minutes the cave was warm, and fiery shadows leapt up the rocky walls. The winkle picker placed a spar of wood onto the fire then, with not a sound, he left the cave, picked up his pail and hurried back down to the skerries to resume his night’s work.

“We’re nearly there, Ronan,” Aquella gasped. Not only his weight, which was due more to the wet seaweed and gunge sticking to him than Ronan himself, but the putrid stench made her stagger. “Soon, soon, Ronan, you’ll be all right. I’ll clean you up. I’ll make a fire and …” Aquella sniffed. Another smell wove around her. The good smell of wood smoke. She stared over her brother’s head. A thin coil of smoke drifted from the mouth of the cave. “Look, Ronan!” she cried out. “Someone’s made a fire for you. Look!”

Aquella staggered into the cave. “We’re here. Lie down. Here, Ronan.” She lowered him onto the sandy floor of the cave. His trembling had stopped. He lay motionless, staring up at her with his piercing green eyes. In the glow of the fire Aquella could see now how ill, dirty and ravaged her brother really was. “It’s all right, Ronan. Everything is going to be all right.”

She set to work, plucking barnacles from his arms and gently pulling off strands of rotten seaweed. With razor shells she cut his horned nails. Through it all she soothed him with the old songs their mother had once sung to them.

When Tarkin did open his eyes, Aquella and the strange creature had gone. Tarkin smelt the wood smoke. Glancing up, he saw smoke drift from the cave. He guessed Aquella was there dealing with whatever had been in the net. That was selkie business and Tarkin didn’t want to butt in. Tarkin plunged a hand in his pocket hoping to find a toffee. He found instead a long strand of seaweed. Fin had given him this to give to Aquella. Tarkin groaned. He had forgotten all about it. He didn’t want to go into the cave, but Fin had begged him to deliver this.

Unsteadily Tarkin rose to his feet. Despite his fall no bones appeared to be broken. Covering his eyes he stumbled towards the cave. “Aquella!” he shouted when he was close enough to hear her singing. “I’ve got something for you. Magnus Fin says it’s for the thing in the net.”

In seconds Aquella was by his side, but still Tarkin kept his eyes covered. He held the seaweed in the palm of his outstretched hand and felt her snatch it from him.

“I can’t believe it!” She clutched at the strand of seaweed and deeply breathed it in. “This is medicine from Neptune. Oh thank you, thank you. Oh – and Tarkin? It’s not a thing – it’s my brother!” Then she was gone.

Tarkin ran down the beach. Some things were too weird even for him. If that thing in the net was Aquella’s brother, he would definitely leave them to it.

He stared out over the moonlit sea. Where was Magnus Fin? Tarkin struggled to focus his thoughts.
Fin! Hey – Magnus Fin!
But his thinking could push open no magic door. Not this time. He was an ordinary boy again. He shivered.

A wave broke and cold water curled round his feet. Tarkin gasped and looked down. His trainers were soaked. Then he looked over his shoulder to where Frank’s boat lay on its side. A thump of guilt punched him in the stomach. What time was it? Had Rena, the neighbour, gone to check on him? Had Frank discovered his boat was missing? Tarkin felt himself drowning under a flood of nagging doubts.

Magnus Fin had his selkie magic. He would manage without Tarkin’s help. And Aquella was singing softly to some weird stinking thing. She didn’t need his help. “Oh jeepers creepers,” he gulped, staring out across the rippling water to the harbour. He had to haul the boat back into the water. He had to cross the bay and steer the boat into the narrow harbour. He had to put the boat back exactly where he found it, rush home, phone the police to report the illegal ocean dumping then jump into bed. Tarkin groaned. It seemed impossible.

Tarkin clenched his fists and drew in deep breaths of air. “Impossible ain’t part of your vocabulary, Tark. Remember that. Everything’s possible. Everything!” And he shouted it again, “Everything – everything!” as he ran up to the boat and lifted in the winch hook. “So far so good,” he yelled. “OK, Tarkin, now back to the ocean!”

He grasped the rope at the helm and swung the boat round. The beach sloped downwards to the sea,
which made boat-pulling easy. It flew over the pebbles. In moments the boat nosed into the North Sea with a splash. Yelling, Tarkin jumped in and turned the key to start the engine.

“We’re harbour bound!” he shouted, and, Captain once more, tilted the rudder homewards.