the island. She looked like another clump of moss amidst the hummocks of sea campion, sheltered in a little gully at the top of the cliff. Or, surrounded by the white flowers, she could have been one of the bare patches outside the puffin burrows, brown and mottled. Through the telescope her feathers were glossy, light brown and blackish on her back, and more delicately dappled on her neck. Her beady black eye seemed to look straight at Billy, but because of the telescope that was of course impossible. Her beak was grey, pale at the tip, and quietly tucked in. She paid no attention to the ooo-ooo, ooo-ooo of the raft of other eiders that floated below her. They might be the ones that were too young to nest this year. Eiders were allowed to ignore their relations, barring their own chicks. People had to go on knowing each other for ever. It must be very warm if you were an egg underneath that duck.
There was a flicker of movement beside him. Billy lowered his telescope as two razorbills skimmed the cliff top just a yard away. He’d been so still they’d stopped noticing him. Billy sat up, blinking. The puffins were still circling round and round the island; he could hear the whirring of their wings as they sped past. Even Mam didn’t know why they circled and circled like that. There were always more of them doing it in the evening, but they were doing it now, and it was – he glanced up at the sun – nowhere near the middle of the morning. He still hadn’t got the kindling. He’d climb into Giau yn Stackey before he went home and fetch an armful all at once. Diya thought you could only get wood from Giau yn Stackey by boat, but she was wrong: it was easy to climb down if you knew the right footholds. He’d stay out long enough to have walked over the slabs looking for little bits of wood that had drifted in during the last day or two. That would give him a bit more time to himself.
Billy sat turning the precious telescope round and round in his hands. Its leather case was scratched and battered, but the brass was polished until it shone. He wished it were really his own. It had been Uncle Jim’s, and no one ever talked about which of them it belonged to now. Of course it was needed at the light, but even Mam just used it because it was there. She didn’t care about the telescope itself. If Uncle Jim were still alive Billy wouldn’t be allowed to take the telescope away from the light to look at other things. But he missed Uncle Jim. It would be better if Uncle Jim were alive and Billy didn’t have the telescope.
Perhaps Uncle Jim was still alive somewhere. No one had ever found a body. Perhaps he’d been picked up by a passing ship and carried off to a far away country. Perhaps he was in India. The reason why he’d never written to say where he’d gone in five whole years was that perhaps he’d been shipwrecked on an uninhabited island, or somewhere where they were all cannibals and didn’t write letters. No, not cannibals. Uncle Jim wouldn’t have been eaten. Just normal savages. And one day a ship would land there to get water, and they’d find Uncle Jim, and then he’d come home again.
But Mam had said that wouldn’t happen, and so Billy had never mentioned it again. Mam and Diya believed that the children didn’t even think any more about Uncle Jim perhaps being alive. Mam and Diya were wrong. Mally didn’t think much, but Billy and Breesha sometimes talked it over privately. Breesha said she was sure her Da wasn’t dead. Sure of it. She just knew. Abruptly Billy clipped the telescope case shut, and stuffed it into his belt. He had the telescope anyway. Sometimes he thought Uncle Jim being drowned was all his fault because he’d been glad to get the telescope afterwards. But he’d never thought about having the telescope before Uncle Jim went away. He’d never, ever, wished that Uncle Jim was dead. He’d never even dreamed about having the telescope to himself before that night.
Billy stood up. It was better not even to think about all that. He’d been going to look at that snow again, see if he could make out her name. That was what to do next. That was a lot better than thinking.
CHAPTER 6
‘A MOMENT, SIR, IF YOU PLEASE.’
It was Mr Kneen again. Archie turned back impatiently. ‘Yes?’
‘A message for you, sir. From Mr Quirk.’
‘Mr Quirk? I was just stepping round to the Castle to see him now.’
‘That’s it, sir. He won’t be at the Castle this morning. He’ll meet you here at the George, in the usual parlour, at eleven o’clock. He sent a message.’
‘Eleven!’ Archie pulled his watch out of his waistcoat pocket and looked at it, as if that would somehow help. ‘Doesn’t he know we have to leave for Port St Mary this morning?’
‘Ay well, sir, you won’t be sailing today anyway, and it’s less than six miles to Port St Mary. You’re not needing to be away from here till this afternoon, I’m thinking.’
So they all knew his business, damn them, even down to the innkeeper. But that was only to be expected in a place like this. Archie tapped his watch impatiently. ‘No doubt,’ he said coldly.
He’d no sooner stepped out of the inn than he met Ben Groat in the Square. What with the cries of the fish-sellers, and the housewives hurrying to the bakery in their pattens, baskets on their arms, it was impossible to talk sensibly.
‘Come round to the stables,’ said Archie.
The stables were at the back of the inn, reached by a narrow lane full of dung. A solitary cow, newly milked, lumbered out from a stone-flagged passage leading into the nearest house, and picked her way towards the green at the end of the street. Ben explained why it would make more sense to look for another chainman in Port St Mary, and, to his relief, Young Archibald absentmindedly agreed. He seemed to have something else on his mind, which was all to the good. In the stableyard a boy was rubbing down a sweating hack, but there was no sign of the head groom. In the coachhouse their gear was still safely in the gig, untouched.
‘Good,’ said Archie, when he’d inspected everything. ‘Ben, the devil of it is I willna be able to see this fellow afore eleven. I doubt we’ll be away until well after noon.’
‘Well, the horse’ll no mind,’ said Ben philosophically. ‘In fact I could put the poor beast out to grass. There’s a hobble in the gig. Then we could have a bite of dinner if we’re still here at midday.’ Ben followed Archie into the yard. ‘I speired about getting to Port St Mary too. The road’s no as good as the turnpike from Douglas, but it’s dry enough in this weather, and flat all the way, the old fellow said.’
Archie was looking at the sky, biting his lip. Not a cloud in sight, and not a breath of wind. The drought seemed set to continue. There was no chance at all of setting sail today, and that meant that in all honesty there was no hurry. Five and a half miles in a gig along an indifferent road – say an hour and a half at the worst. It was – he glanced at his watch again – nearly eight now. Low water was at eighteen minutes past eleven. They had to sail to Ellan Bride on the ebb to have the current with them. If only they hadn’t been held up by this business, they could have gone out on the ebb this morning. But they were missing this tide, damn it … and as for the next one, it was unlikely they’d persuade the boatman to leave this evening, as he’d then have to come home after dark, with no wind to help him either way. If they aimed at a dawn start tomorrow, he could send Ben to buy provisions now, while he saw this Mr Quirk … and now Ben was coming out of the stable, leading a depressed-looking roan, and was speaking to him again. ‘What did you say, Ben?’
‘About Drew, Mr Buchanan. What’ll we do about Drew?’
‘Nothing,’ said Archie emphatically. ‘Scott must fend for himself.’
‘But Mr Buchanan …’ Archie strode off down the street. Since the horse was in no hurry, Ben had to call after him. ‘Sir!’
Archie turned round. He had to look up six inches to meet Ben’s eyes; he always found that a disadvantage, but he said firmly, ‘No, Ben. It was insane, what Drew did. Doesn’t he realise we’ve got to keep these people on our side? He could have done us no end of damage. He must take what comes to him.’
Ben knew this mood of Young Archibald’s. There was never any point pleading with him. They’d worked together since Ben had started out as apprentice chainman on the Sutherland survey – so long, in fact, that Archie very seldom gave Ben