And Mike was as good as his word. Precisely at nine, Fee announced that she could hear something. “I heard a splash,” she whispered. “I’m sure I did.”
They all looked out to sea, straining their eyes in the darkness. And then, as if responding to an unspoken plea, the moon came out from behind a cloud, and there was Mike, nosing a kayak onto the beach in front of them.
It took a real effort not to shout out a welcome. “Mike!” hissed Poppy. “We’re over here.”
Tanya was first to reach him, and helped him to drag the kayak up onto the sand. There they clustered round him, while Poppy gave the agreed signal to let the others know that Mike had arrived. In no time, everybody else had converged to welcome their friend.
“Don’t waste any time,” said Mr Rigger, his voice lowered to little more than a whisper. “Tell us what happened.”
Mike started his story without delay. “I signed up as a cabin boy,” he said.
“Why did you do it? asked Mr Rigger.
Mike hesitated. “I was accused of …”
Mr Rigger stopped him. “I’m sorry. We know now the theft of the items from Captain Tommy’s sea-chest had nothing to do with you.”
They could see that Mike was relieved by this. “Good,” he said, smiling broadly. “Anyway, there was another reason. You know all about my father’s disappearance?”
“Yes,” said Mr Rigger.
“Well,” said Mike. “Well, there’s something that Ben, Badger, Thomas and I heard when we went ashore that made me think he might be here on Shark Island. I also thought that Bert Thorn might be mixed up in it in some way.”
“And is he?” asked Mr Rigger.
Mike nodded. “I don’t know for sure yet. But I do know that the woman in the coconut bar was right. Thorn brings in supplies and takes them inland. And then he brings out large crates. They’re making something there in some kind of secret factory.”
There was a long silence as they thought about this. What on earth could people be making in the middle of a remote island? It would have to be something very secret for them to go to such enormous trouble.
Mr Rigger cleared his throat. “Well, you’ve found out something very important, Mike. It was a risky thing to do, but you’ve done it. Now you can come back to the Tobermory with us. It’s up to the authorities to take things further.”
Mike shook his head. “Please, Mr Rigger. Please let me see this through. If this is all somehow connected with my father, this might be my only chance to find out what happened to him.”
Mr Rigger frowned. “But what do you suggest we do?” he asked.
They all watched Mike as he revealed his plan. It was bold, and it was dangerous, but not one of them wanted to turn back.
“I managed to listen in to a conversation between Bert Thorn and one of his crew,” said Mike. “They didn’t realise I could hear, but they were discussing the route inland.
“The crewman said that there was a footbridge that needed repairing, and the rest of the track was also in a bad state.” He paused. “The track starts just over there,” he said, pointing to some mangrove trees.
Mr Rigger looked uncertain. “And what do we do when we get to the factory – if we get there?”
Mike was ready for the question. “There’s a cook on the Barracuda who told me earlier about going to this place once with some other members of the crew. He said the secret factory is on an island in the middle of a lagoon which connects with the sea, and that the lagoon is full of sharks. The people who work in the factory have all been kidnapped, and Thorn keeps them there like prisoners. The sharks are his main security, as anyone trying to escape would be eaten alive if they tried to swim across the lagoon. And of course the sharks also keep nosey people out. But he also said that there’s a way of crossing safely. If you throw fish into the water a little way away from where you want to cross, it distracts the sharks and they’ll be too busy eating to notice you wading across.”
“But where are we going to get fish?” asked Ben.
Mike had expected this question too and answered quickly. “The cook said they keep a barrel of it on each side of the lagoon.”
Mr Rigger shook his head. “I’m not having it,” he said. “I’m not going to have anyone risking their lives swimming through shark-infested waters. And anyway, I’m not sure that we should get mixed up in all this.”
Mike pleaded with him. “Please, Mr Rigger,” he begged. “If there’s any chance – even the smallest one – of finding out about my father, I have to take it.”
Badger added his support. “Please, sir,” he said. “It means such a lot to him.”
And so did Poppy: “Please, Mr Rigger. Please help Mike. It’s his only chance.”
Mr Rigger was clearly torn. On the one hand he was an officer of the Tobermory, responsible for the safety of his students and under a duty to ensure they didn’t get into any unnecessary danger. On the other hand, he was a kind man who clearly understood what this opportunity meant to Mike.
“I’m not sure …” he began.
Poppy sensed his uncertainty. “We all really want to help Mike,” she pleaded. “And we know how kind you are, Mr Rigger. We know you want to help him too.”
That was the final nudge he needed, and he gave in. “Very well,” he said. “Time’s getting on. I think we should set off.”
It didn’t take them long to get to the track behind the mangroves. It was a broad, well-worn path, but very uneven. Fee led the way, because she had the best night vision, and was able to spot any obstacles better than anybody else. Close behind her came Mr Rigger, and behind him was Poppy and the others. At the rear was Badger, who looked behind them every so often just to make sure they were not being followed.
After they had walked for a few minutes they came to the footbridge Mike had mentioned. It was a very narrow bridge, slung between two sides of a deep ravine. “Be careful not to tread on one of these—” began Fee, and immediately stood herself on one of the rotten planks. With an awful cracking sound the wood gave way beneath her, and her leg slipped down into the void below. Far beneath them – a good hundred feet – a river tumbled down towards the sea. Fee was shaking as she felt Mr Rigger hoist her back onto her feet. “Careful!” he whispered. “Take it slowly, Fee.”
They eventually reached the other side. From there it was downhill through thick jungle before the path came to the shore of the lagoon. There in the centre was a small island on which they could see a large building surrounded by a ring of wooden cabins.
For a few minutes the whole party just stood and gazed at the sight, which was now quite clearly visible in the moonlight. But there was no time to waste, and Mr Rigger urged them on towards the edge of the water.
Mike looked about him, searching in the darkness for the barrel of fish. He didn’t notice it at first, but then he saw it, just a short distance away, half-concealed by a bush.
“Look! There’s the barrel. I’ll go and get some fish,” he said.
He was away for only a moment and when he returned he was shaking his head. “It’s empty,” he said. “It smelled of fish all right, but it’s empty. They must have used it all up and haven’t got round to filling it again.”
“So we’ll have to cross over without using anything to distract the sharks,” said Badger. “That’s not much use, is it?”
“Only one person needs to cross,” said Mike. “Then he – or she – can go and distract the sharks with fish from the other barrel to let all the others get across.”
“And what happens if the other barrel is empty too? No, it’s far too dangerous,” said Mr Rigger. “There’s no alternative but to turn back, I’m afraid.”
Mike pleaded. “But we’re so close now. We can’t turn back. I’ll swim across.”
Mr Rigger shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I won’t allow it.” He paused and thought for a moment. “But that’s not to say that I won’t allow myself to go. In fact, I have just given myself permission. I’l
l do it.”
“No, you can’t, sir,” said Mike. “Please let me.”
But Mr Rigger would not be persuaded otherwise.
They had to walk a little bit further to find the narrowest part of the lagoon. On the island opposite they could make out a small shack thatched with old banana tree fronds, with what looked like a barrel beside it.
“That’s our place,” said Mr Rigger, as he stepped into the water. “Be very careful, sir,” whispered Badger.
Mr Rigger said nothing, but began to swim as quietly as he could across the brief divide of water.
And it was then that Badger saw a dark triangular shape moving through the water, heading straight for Mr Rigger. The sight made his heart miss a beat, then thump wildly, as it will often do after you see something really frightening and dangerous.
Badger opened his mouth to shout a warning, but no sound came.
Reunited at last
Badger had to act quickly. But what could he do? He had never been in a situation like this, and he felt completely helpless.
And then it came to him, and he knew exactly what he had to do. Mr Rigger was in the water; the shark was in the water; he, Badger, would go into the water too …
“What are you doing, Badger?” Ben asked. “You can’t go in!’
But that was exactly what he did. With a great lunge Badger launched himself into the black waters of the lagoon and began to splash about for all his worth. His friends watched in astonishment as he floundered and thrashed about in the shallows, venturing in as far as his waist, his arms beating at the surface, making as much disturbance as possible. Why on earth had he chosen this moment of all to start playing around in the water? they asked themselves.
And then they saw what he was doing. The shark’s fin, which had been cutting through the water in wide circles round Mr Rigger, suddenly stopped moving. Then it turned, pointing directly at Badger and, slowly at first, began to move towards the new source of disturbance. Badger had deliberately drawn the shark’s attention away from Mr Rigger towards himself.
Sharks are inquisitive creatures: if there is something going on in the water, they want to know all about it. No shark could have resisted the temptation to investigate the splashing that was taking place by the edge of the lagoon. It could be some tasty creature in difficulty, after all – just the sort of thing a shark might enjoy for a late-night snack.
By now Mr Rigger was close to the other side, and in a few seconds he was there, striding out of the water on the island side. Seeing this, Badger realised it was time for him to get out of the water himself. With an eye on the shark’s fin, which was getting closer and closer, he began to make his way back to the shore. It was slow going, as wading through water is not easy, even if it only comes up to your waist. And the fin, he saw when he glanced over his shoulder, was moving faster and faster.
“Hurry up!” shouted Ben from the shore.
“Come on, Badger!” yelled Poppy. “Quick, quick!”
Ben saw that the shark was gaining quickly on his friend. Looking around desperately for something that might distract the shark a second time, he noticed that the shore was littered with large pebbles. He bent down to pick one up and hurled it with all his strength into the water. Ben knew that it might not do much good, but at least it would be something. It worked. As soon as the pebble splashed into the lagoon, the shark turned from its course slightly. It was not for long, but it was enough, and Badger, by now in very shallow water, managed to stagger onto the beach. He was safe.
He had seen what Ben had done with the pebble. It had probably saved his life, but there was no time for thanks now. There would be plenty of opportunity for that later. Right now all of them watched as Mr Rigger made his way to the barrel of fish, turned it on its side, rolled it down to the edge of the lagoon a good few hundred yards along the shore, and emptied its contents into the water. “I’m starting the feeding frenzy,” he called to them.
Suddenly the water was a boiling mass of activity as all the sharks thrashed around, snapping up each morsel of food. Further back, on the opposite shore, the group of friends began to cross the lagoon. They did so in safety, as the sharks were all busy elsewhere, but it was still frightening going into a stretch of water where only a short while ago they had seen a shark circling. But they did it, and a few minutes later they were on the other side, dripping wet, proud of themselves and ready for what lay ahead.
Mr Rigger came back to join them. He had not seen the shark, nor realised the extent of the danger he had been in. But when Poppy told him what had happened he wiped his brow with relief.
“Thank you, Badger,” he said. “I believe you saved my life.”
But Badger did not want to make much of it. “Actually, Ben saved mine,” he said.
“Well, whatever happened, I’m proud of you all,” said Mr Rigger. “But now we need to get moving and find out what’s going on here.”
Walking as quietly as is possible in boots full of water, Mr Rigger led the small group towards the first of the cabins surrounding the main building.
“We need to take a look in there,” he whispered. “Badger and Tanya, you come with me. The rest of you stay here and keep quiet.”
Mr Rigger and his two assistants detached themselves from the group and crept towards the cabin. When they reached it, he very gently tried the door. It was not locked, and it opened without a squeak. The three of them went in, walking as lightly as they could in case there were any loose floorboards that might give them away.
There were none, but with each step he took, the water in Mr Rigger’s boots made a strange gurgling, squelching sound. At first this was not too obvious, but then it became louder and louder. Mr Rigger stopped, and looked down helplessly at his boots. And it was then that the flashlight was switched on.
They stood stock still, caught in the blinding beam of light.
“Who are you? Why are you here?” asked a voice.
Mr Rigger coughed. “We’re lost,” he said. “We came ashore to have a look around and can’t find our way back.”
The light moved, shining on each of their faces in turn, before it was pointed away towards the floor. Now the three intruders could see who was talking to them.
It was a man wearing a shabby pair of red pyjamas. He had a beard and a shock of unkempt hair, and his face had a sad and weary look to it.
“So you’re not from the Barracuda?” said the man, obviously confused.
“No,” said Mr Rigger.
The man stepped towards them. “Then you’re … you’re strangers?”
“You could call us that,” said Mr Rigger.
This answer seemed to worry the man. “You’re in real danger then,” he said. “You shouldn’t be here. If they find you …”
“Hold on,” interrupted Mr Rigger. “What do you mean? Why should we be in danger?”
“I’ll explain,” said the man, gesturing for them to go with him into a small room off the main part of the cabin. There was a table here with a few chairs around it, and they all sat down.
“This place,” he began, “is run by a man called Bert Thorn. He’s a terrible man. I’m not sure what you’d call him. I suppose pirate might be the word. Anyway, he built a factory here that makes fake goods – you know, forgeries. People are always prepared to pay a lot for things that they think are worth something – expensive watches, designer jeans and so on. Well, this is where they make a lot of cheap versions of expensive goods. Thorn then sells them off as the real thing and makes a fortune in the process.”
Mr Rigger nodded.
“Or should I say,” the man went on, “this is where we make a lot of that stuff. You see, if you can get people to work for nothing – if you don’t have to pay them – you make even more money.”
Mr Rigger gasped. “That happens here?”
“Yes. There are about twenty of us. We were kidnapped by Thorn and brought here to work. And they work us hard – seven days a week, with only a cou
ple of hours off. Some of us have been here for years.”
“And you couldn’t escape?” asked Tanya.
The man turned to her and spoke sadly. “No. We can’t get off the island because of the sharks. They keep us in – and keep any visitors out. That was why I was so surprised to see you.” He sighed. “We’ve seen how Thorn and his men get across the lagoon themselves, but the barrels of fish they use are usually locked away – except when Thorn’s ship is in the bay. And there’d be no point in our getting to the beach when they’re anchored off it.”
For a while there was silence as they took in what the man had said. Then Mr Rigger spoke. “Is there someone here who disappeared in Dominica a few years ago?”
The man nodded. “There are two of them,” he answered.
“And one of them has a son called Mike?”
The man smiled. “Yes, he does,” he said enthusiastically. “He’s often spoken about the boy.”
“Where is he?” asked Mr Rigger.
“The cabin next door,” said the man. “But you’d better not stay here any longer. If Thorn’s men catch you here you’ll end up prisoners like us.”
Mr Rigger spoke hurriedly to the man. “Listen carefully,” he said. “We’re leaving all right. We can’t take everyone, but there will be room for two. So if you want to get out of here …”
“I do,” said the man.
“Then get ready,” instructed Mr Rigger.
While the man quickly got dressed, Mr Rigger, Ben and Tanya left the cabin and retraced their steps to join the others.