Monster Mission

There were five men in the launch: Stanley Sprott himself, Boris and Casimir, and the bodyguard, Des. Lambert had been left behind with the skipper—the poor boy was definitely going crazy—but Sprott had forced the mate of the Hurricane to come too.

The launch was towing two large inflatable rafts loaded with equipment, with which to net the creatures and stun them before they were floated out to the Hurricane.

All the men had guns and knives and whistles to blow if they wanted extra help and their orders were clear.

‘Now remember, if you have to shoot, shoot the aunts, not the creatures. You can’t get money for aunts. But don’t shoot at all if you can help it. We want silence and we want speed.’

The launch slid on to the sand. The men got out.

Boris and Casimir set off up the hill; they were going for the boobrie and the stoorworm. Sprott himself and the mate made their way to the mermaid shed: Sprott liked the idea of carrying the wriggling, struggling mermaids over his shoulder.

And Des was to capture the selkies.

Des had grumbled about this. ‘What do you want a couple of old seals for?’ he asked Mr Sprott.

Sprott had not told anyone what Queenie had said about selkies; it was probably rubbish anyway. ‘They’re supposed to be able to sing,’ was all he said.

So Des was not in a good mood as he climbed up the rocks towards the sleeping seals. Even if they could sing it didn’t seem very exciting—lots of animals made noises in their throats—and how the devil was he supposed to pick out the selkies from the others?

‘There’s two of them, lying apart from the rest,’

Lambert had said. ‘They’ve got funny eyes.’ And then he’d started to snivel and go on again about how they weren’t really there.

But as he got closer, Des saw that Lambert was right. There were two seals lying apart from the rest. A big bull seal and a smaller one; a cow probably. He’d tackle the smaller one first and if things went wrong he could always skin the brutes. Sealskins fetched a good price.

Des crept closer. The big seal opened his eyes, and even in the dim moonlight, Des could see that his eyes were not quite like those of an ordinary seal.

But it was the smaller one he was after. She’d been asleep but now she stirred …

Really it was uncanny how human she looked. Her body was just a grey splodge and he couldn’t see her flippers, but as she yawned and opened her eyes you could almost forget she was a seal.

Des shook himself. He was getting fanciful. Better get her netted and dragged away. It shouldn’t be a problem; she was only half grown—he probably wouldn’t even need the stunner.

He crept the last few metres, got to his feet—and threw the net.

And the selkie screamed. He had never heard such a scream coming from the throat of an animal. It was a completely human scream and it was all Des could do not to drop the net and run back to the ship.

But he didn’t. He cursed and tried to tighten the net while the seal struggled and kicked—and then suddenly the screams had words to them! Proper human words.

‘Leave me alone,’ shrieked the selkie in her high-pitched voice. ‘Let me go at once, you brute. Help! Oh, help!’

Up by the boobrie’s nest, Coral got to her feet, vaulted over the barbed wire—all sixteen stone of her—and began to run towards the point. Etta, who had been helping Art to guard the mermaid shed, seized the blunderbuss and did the same. Going to rescue Myrtle was something they did as naturally as they breathed.

But someone else was coming to Myrtle’s rescue.

As Des straightened himself to pull the net tighter, something came at him: an enormous wet wall of grey muscle … a tank of solid blubber which sent him sprawling. He tried to get to his feet but the bull seal threw back his head and roared and then he opened his mouth and Des saw the evil-looking teeth and felt his hot breath. The creature was going for his throat… in a moment it would be all up with him.

Choking, struggling, Des tried to reach his knife but every time it was in his grasp, the seal charged again. Helpless, sprawled on the ground, he tried to cover his face, but the awful teeth were closing on his flesh…

Then when he thought his last moment had come, he found the knife, and lunged. The seal reared back and he almost missed … almost but not quite. He’d made a nick in the animal’s shoulder, nothing more … but, my God, what was happening now? It wasn’t teeth that were fastening round his throat, it was hands, it was fingers …

With a blood-curdling shriek, Des managed to struggle to his feet—and then he ran… ran and ran, almost mad with horror … ran, with the spittle running out of his mouth, away and away across the Island, trying to escape from what he’d seen. Ran until he stumbled over a gorse bush, and found himself falling … falling down towards a pool of dark water far below.

Chapter Nineteen

The stoorworm had always been worried about his thoughts getting stuck halfway down his body.