see your friends. I’ll take care of the trap.’
‘Aren’t you going to tell me your plan?’ Hort pleaded. ‘Haven’t got it all
worked out yet,’ the Old Man admitted, ‘but if you want to see what happens,
be on the dock at first light tomorrow. We’ll see how smart this monster is.’
Unlike the day before, Hort was at the dock well before the dawn. As the first
tendrils of pre-dawn light began to dispel the night, he was pacing impatiently,
hugging himself against the damp chill of the morning.
Mist hung deep over the water, giving it an eerie, supernatural appearance which
did nothing to ease Hort’s fears as he alternately cursed and worried about his
absent father. Crazy old man! Why couldn’t he be like the other fishermen? Why
take it on himself to solve the mystery of the sea-monster? Knowing the best way
to combat the chill was activity he decided to launch the family’s boat. For
once, he would be ready when the Old Man got here.
He marched down the dock, then slowed, and finally retraced his steps. The boat
was gone. Had Sanctuary’s thieves finally decided to ply their trade on the
wharf? Unlikely. Who would they sell a stolen boat to? The fishermen knew each
other’s equipment as well as they knew their own.
Could the Old Man have gone out already? Impossible – to be out of the harbour
before Hort got there, the Old Man would have had to take the boat out at night
– and in these waters with the monster…
‘You there!’
Hort turned to find the three hired mercenaries coming down the pier. They were
a sullen crew by this light and the pole-arms two of them carried gave them the