Over Sea, Under Stone

  Simon said, in flat, dull disappointment: “It doesn’t point at anything!” He stared at the ground beside the towering stone. Dark on the silvered gloom of the grass lay the shadow cast by the high bright moon; and it pointed like a blunt finger away from Kemare Head, towards the long dark inland horizon of the Cornish moors.

  “Perhaps it points to some landmark we haven’t noticed,” Jane said doubtfully, gazing in vain over the shadow-masked hills.

  “More likely the Cornishman used a landmark that’s fallen down, or been destroyed, or just crumbled away. There’s always been that risk. And it would mean we could never get any further than this.”

  “But he wouldn’t have done that, I know he wouldn’t.” Jane looked wildly round her into the night, into the wind gusting over the bleak headland; and then suddenly she stood still, and stared. From her place beside the great stone that was their only sure mark, she had turned her head to the moon that raced motionless high over the top of Kemare Head, over the sea; and she saw, as if for the first time, the pathway of light that it laid down.

  Straight as an arrow the long white road of the moon’s reflection stretched towards them across the surface of the sea, like a path from the past and a path to the future; at its edges it danced and glimmered as the waves rose beneath the wind. And where it ended, at the tip of Kemare Head, a clear dark silhouette stood against the shining sea-carried light.

  She said to Simon, huskily. “Look.”

  He turned to see, and she knew that in a moment he was as certain as she that this was what they were supposed to find.

  “It’s those rocks on the end of the headland,” she said. “Outlined there. It must be. And we weren’t supposed to use the shadow as a pointer this time—we had to stand here by this stone and let the moonlight itself show us the next clue.”

  “And that’s what it does.” Simon’s voice rose as the familiar excitement of the chase came flooding back. “And if that’s what he meant by the signs that wane but do not die, then the grail must be hidden somewhere in that clump of rocks. Buried on the end of Kemare Head. Gosh—Gumerry, we’ve found it!” He turned back towards the silent dominating circle of the standing stones, and then hesitated. “Gumerry?” he said uncertainly.

  Jane came quickly to stand close to him. Out of the shelter of the rock the wind blew her pony-tail round across her face. She called more loudly, “Gumerry!” Where are you?”

  There was no answer but the rise and fall of the sighing wind, loud enough now to drown the distant murmur of the sea. Jane, feeling very small indeed under the ghostly group of great stones, took hold of Simon’s sleeve. Her voice quavered in spite of itself. “Oh Simon—where’s he gone?”

  Simon called into the growing wind: “Great-Uncle Merry! Great-Uncle Merry! Where are you?”

  But still there was nothing but the darkness, and the high white moon sailing now dark, now light, and the noise of the wind. They heard the husking wail of the owl again, nearer this time, over the headland in the opposite valley; a friendless, inhuman, desolate sound. Jane forgot everything but the loneliness of the dark. She stood speechless with fright, as if she knew a great wave were bearing down on her and she could not move out of its path. If she had not been there Simon would have been as paralysed by fright himself. But he took a deep breath, and clenched his fists.

  “He was over here before,” he said, swallowing. “Come on.” He moved in the direction of the other standing stones, barely visible now in the blackness.

  “Oh no—” Jane’s voice rose hysterically, and she clutched at his sleeve. “Don’t go near them.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Jane,” Simon said coolly, sounding much braver than he felt.

  Another owl hooted, unexpectedly, on their other side, towards the end of the headland. “Oh,” Jane said miserably. “I want to go home.”

  “Come on,” Simon said again. “He must be over here. I expect he can’t hear us, this wind’s getting up like anything.” He took Jane’s hand, and unwillingly she moved with him towards the dark looming shapes of the standing stones. The moon dimmed and disappeared into the depths of a bigger cloud, so that only a dim luminous glow from the stars gave shape to anything at all. They went gingerly through the darkness, feeling that at any moment they might collide with something unseen; panic suppressed only by the desperate hope of finding their great-uncle suddenly at their side. He seemed a very strong and necessary refuge now that he was not there.

  They were right among the standing stones now, and they could feel rather than see the black rock pillars rearing up around them. The wind blew gustily, singing through the grass, and again they heard the owl cry below them out of the dark. They moved slowly together, straining their eyes to peer ahead. Then the ragged cloud turned silver again, and the moon came sailing out through the flying wisps at its edge; and in the same moment they became aware of a tall dark shape looming up before them where no stone had been before.

  It seemed to swell as the wind blew, so that suddenly they saw that it was no stone, but the tall figure of a man all in black, with a long cloak that swirled in the wind as he turned towering over them. For an instant the moonlight caught his face as he turned, and they saw eyes shadowed under dark jutting brows, and the flash of white teeth in what was not a smile. Jane screamed, terrified, and hid her face in Simon’s shoulder.

  And then at once the moon was covered again by cloud, and the threat and roar of the darkness seemed to rear up all around them. Without a word they swung round and ran, stumbling, driven by panic, away from the silent standing stones and down the hill, until with an enormous flooding of relief they heard the call of a familiar deep voice. As they looked ahead, gasping, they saw Great-Uncle Merry silhouetted against the lighter background of the sea, standing before them on the path.

  They rushed to him, and Jane flung her arms round his waist and clung to him, sobbing with relief. Simon had just enough self-possession left to stand on his own. “Oh Gumerry,” he said breathlessly, “we couldn’t find you anywhere.”

  “We must go down from here quickly,” his great-uncle said low and urgently, holding Jane to him and stroking the back of her quivering head. “I was looking for you. I knew there was something in those cries that was not like an owl. Come quickly.”

  He bent down and picked Jane up in his arms in one swift movement as if she had been a baby, and with Simon close at his heels he strode off down the hill, keeping to the path that they could just see as moonlight flashed through the racing clouds.

  Simon said, panting as he trotted along, “There was a man up there. We saw him, all of a sudden, out of the dark. He was all muffled up in a big coat like a cloak, all in black. It was horrible.”

  “I went to find them,” Great-Uncle Merry said. “He must have got past me. Then there were others. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  Jane, shaken in his arms as he loped down the hill, opened her eyes and looked back over his shoulder at the top of the headland, where the dark fingers of the standing stones still pointed up into the sky. And in the moment before they disappeared over the horizon she saw that there were twice as many shapes as there had been before, with other black figures standing among the stones.

  “Gumerry, they’re coming after us!”

  “They dare not follow while I am here,” Great-Uncle Merry said calmly, and he went down the slope at the same long easy stride.

  Jane swallowed. “I think I’m all right now,” she said in a small voice. “Could you put me down?”

  Hardly pausing, Great-Uncle Merry set her on her feet again, and like Simon she half ran beside him to keep up. They reached the bottom of the slope, and crossed the field to the road, feeling it a reassuring place after the vast bleak emptiness of the headland. The wind no longer whined round their ears down here, and they heard again the friendly soft murmur of the sea.

  “That man,” Simon said. “That man we saw. It was him, Gumerry, the one we’d never seen before. It was the man you
rescued me from. The man who chased me, with the boy.”

  Jane said in a small frightened voice, looking straight ahead of her at the twinkling village lights as she walked, “But I recognised him straight away, when moonlight shone on his face. That’s why I was so scared. It was the vicar of Trewissick. And he’s the man who saw my outline of the map in the guide-book.”

  • Chapter Nine •

  Barney, left behind, flattened his nose against the window of Jane’s bedroom. He saw Simon and Jane glance up and wave, but Great-Uncle Merry was marching along without looking to right or left, a tall thin figure vanishing into the dark. Barney smiled to himself. He knew that determined stride very well.

  He peered after them until he could see nothing in the darkness but the lights of the village dancing in the black rippled water, among the ghostly boats. From the Witherses’ yacht, there was no light at all. He turned away from the window, sighing a little at the frustration of being left out. To comfort himself he took a firmer hold on the telescope case which Simon had solemnly handed over to him when they came up to say good-by. At once he felt better. He was a knight entrusted with a sacred mission, he had been wounded in battle but had to guard his secret just the same . . . he bent each leg gently in turn, and winced at the burning tightness of the skin over his knees. The enemy were all round, hunting the secret which he held in his charge, but none of them would be able to get near. . . .

  “Now then, back ’ee come to bed,” Mrs. Palk said behind him, unexpectedly. Barney swung round. She was standing massive in the doorway, with the light from the landing streaming round her, watching him. Barney’s fingers instinctively curled tighter round the cool metal case, and he came towards her, padding softly on his bare feet. Mrs. Palk backed out on to the landing to let him through the door. As he passed close to her she reached out her hand curiously.

  “What’s that ’ee got there?”

  Barney jerked the case out of her reach, and then quickly forced a laugh. “Oh,” he said as casually as he could, “it’s a telescope of the captain’s I borrowed. It’s jolly good. You can see all the ships going past out in the bay. I thought I might be able to watch the others go down to the harbour with it, but it’s not much good in the dark.”

  “Oh ah.” Mrs. Palk seemed to lose interest. “Fancy that, I never seen the captain use any telescope. Still, there be all sorts of strange things in this house, more than I shall ever know about, I’ll be bound.”

  “Well, good night, Mrs. Palk,” Barney said, making for his own room.

  “Good night, midear,” Mrs. Palk said. “Just give me a shout if ’ee want anything. I reckon I’ll be going to bed myself soon, my days of waitin’ up for fishermen are over.” She disappeared downstairs, and the landing light went out.

  Barney switched on the lamp at the side of his bed and quietly closed the door. He felt unprotected, and rather excited still, without Great-Uncle Merry in the house. He thought of pushing a chair against the door, but changed his mind when he remembered that Simon would fall over it when he came back. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to think he had been worried at being alone.

  He took the manuscript out to have one last look, and to guess what Simon and Jane might find from the shadow of the standing stone. But he could see nothing in the rough picture of the stones and the moon. Suddenly sleepy, he slipped the roll back and turned out the light; snuggled down into the bed-clothes with the case clutched to his chest, and fell asleep.

  He never knew exactly what it was that woke him. When, through the confusion of half-dreams and imagined noises, he realised that he was awake, the room was quite dark. There was no sound but the constant murmur of the sea, very faint on this side of the house but always in the air. But from the way all his senses were straining to catch something, he knew that a part of him which had not quite gone to sleep at all was warning him of some danger very near. He lay very still, but he could hear nothing. Then there was a very faint creak behind him, from the direction of the door.

  Barney felt his heart begin to thump a little faster. He was used to hearing noises at night; their flat in London was part of a very old house which creaked and muttered all the time at night, as if the walls and floors were breathing. Although he had never been awake here long enough to find out, he guessed that the Grey House probably did the same. But this noise, somehow, was not as friendly as those. . . .

  Barney did what he did at home whenever he woke up and heard a noise that sounded more like a burglar than an ordinary creak of the floor. He made the small grumbling, yawning whimper that people give sometimes in their sleep, and turned over in bed as if he were settling himself down without waking up. As he turned, he half opened one eye for a quick look round the room.

  At home when he did this there was never anything to see at all, and he fell asleep again feeling rather foolish. But this time it was different. By a faint line of light he could see that the door was standing open, and near it the glow of a small torch was moving across the room. The light of the torch stopped quite still as he moved. Barney snuggled into his new position, lay still and breathed deeply for several minutes with his eyes closed. Gradually he heard the small noises begin again. He lay listening, more perplexed than frightened now. Who was it? What were they doing? It can’t be someone who wants to knock me on the head, he said to himself, or they’d have knocked me on the head before this. They don’t want to wake me up, and they don’t want to make a noise. They’re looking for something. . . .

  He groped under the bed-clothes, careful not to show any movement or make a noise. The telescope case was still there, and he kept tight hold of it.

  Then he heard another sound. The person moving noiselessly about his room in the dark sniffed, very slightly. The noise was almost imperceptible, but Barney recognised it as a sniff he had heard before. He grinned to himself in relief, feeling his muscles relax. Very slowly he edged his hand out from under the bed-clothes towards the bed-side table, and switched on the light.

  Mrs. Palk jumped, dropped her torch with a clatter and clapped her hand to her heart. For some seconds Barney was completely dazzled by the sudden light flooding the room, but he blinked his eyes clear in time to see disappointment and surprise on her face. Quickly she pulled herself together, and gave him a broad reassuring smile.

  “There now, and I thought I hadn’t waked ’ee up. What a pity. I’m so sorry, midear. Did I frighten ’ee?”

  Barney said bluntly: “Whatever are you doing, Mrs. Palk?”

  “Came up to see if ’ee was all right and sleepin’ properly. And I thought while I was up here I’d pick up your dirty cup to wash up wi’ the rest of the things downstairs. Had your Horlicks up here, remember? Bless the boy,” she added fondly, “he’s half asleep still.”

  Barney stared at her. He did feel sleepy, but not too sleepy to remember Jane coming into his room when he had first gone up to bed and saying, “Mrs. Palk said would I pick up your cup if you’d finished, or do you want any more?”

  “Jane took my cup down.”

  Mrs. Palk looked vaguely round the room, and gazed wide-eyed at his empty bed-side table. “So she did then, it quite slipped my mind. What a silly old thing I be. Well, I’ll leave ’ee to go back to sleep, my love, I’m so sorry to have waked ’ee.” She bustled with almost comical speed out of the room.

  Barney had almost fallen asleep again when he heard low voices outside the door, and Simon came in. He shot up in bed. “What happened? Did you find anything? Where did you go?”

  “Nothing happened much,” Simon said wearily. He peeled off his windbreaker and sweater and dropped them on the floor. “We found where we’ve got to go next. Where the next clue leads. It’s those rocks at the end of Kemare Head, right over the sea.”

  “Did you go and look? Is there anything there?”

  “No, we didn’t.” Simon was abrupt, trying not to remember the nastiness of the moments when he and Jane had been alone in the dark.

  “Why
not?”

  “The enemy were up there, that’s why. All round us in the dark, and one of them was the man who chased me that day with the boy. Only Jane says it was the vicar. I don’t know, it’s all awfully complicated. Anyway, we ran away and nobody followed us. Funny, they all seem scared of Gumerry.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Dunno.” Simon yawned hugely. “Look, I’m going down to have some cocoa. We can talk in the morning.”

  Barney lay down again, sighing. “All right. Ooh—” He jerked up again. “Wait a minute. Shut the door.”

  Simon looked at him curiously and pushed the door shut. “What is it?”

  “You mustn’t say anything in front of Mrs. Palk. Not a word. Tell Jane.”

  “We shouldn’t. She wouldn’t understand anyway.”

  “Ho,” Barney said importantly. “That’s what you think. I woke up just now and she was snooping around the room in the dark with a torch. Good job I had the map all safe. She’s after it. I bet you she’s after it. I think she’s bad.”

  “Hmmm,” Simon said, sceptically, looking at him. Barney’s hair was ruffled, and his eyes shadowed with sleep. It was very easy to believe that what he was describing had been no more than a dream.

  When they went downstairs in the morning Mrs. Palk was bustling energetically about the kitchen beating eggs in a bowl with her elbow flicking up and down like a machine. “Breakfast?” she said brightly. Barney watched her closely, but he could see nothing but good humour and beaming honesty. And yet, he said insistently to himself, she looked so guilty when I turned on the light. . . .

  “It’s a wonderful day again,” Jane said happily as they sat down. “The wind’s still quite strong, but there isn’t a cloud anywhere. It must have blown them all away.”