Black Tide Page 2

  This should be the right map: “The North-East Coast of Scotland”. Now where’s Fraserburgh? We must have been near there when we were boarded.

  Toby soon prodded his finger on the dot marked Fraserburgh, and then traced it upwards following the raiders’ route. I’ll have to keep near the coastline so they can’t see me. But where is Fort George? He squinted at the squiggly lines and hundreds of inlets on the map, trying to keep the boat steady. Yes! There it is – Fort George! It’s not far from Inverness.

  Toby reckoned it was sixty to eighty miles from his possible position. Sailing at a speed of ten knots it would take him six to eight hours to get there. But how long would it take the raiders? Their boat was much faster than the Lucky Lady, and they probably wouldn’t have to stop to look for fuel on the way. He checked Lady’s fuel gauge. It read almost full; the raiders hadn’t stolen the fuel. They seemed to be interested in only one thing: kidnapping him and his family. Why?

  Toby, tired and aching, tried to shut his mind off from any bad thoughts and concentrate on steering around the jutting headlands. He placed the map next to him on the control panel along with his dad’s old brass telescope, so he could watch for any landmarks that were on the map.

  As the small fishing boat motored bravely through the waves, he tried to think of good things, like seeing Sylvie again. He wondered if she had taken Henry, her pet rabbit, with her. Maybe she’d had time to smuggle him inside her fleece pocket? He smiled: the cute fluffy rabbit always cheered her up even when she was terribly poorly.

  The spray from the rising waves was lashing the windscreen and Toby fumbled to find the wiper switch. Thud, thud, thud they beat rhythmically while he struggled to bind his bleeding wrists with a ripped-up old hankie. He jumped as something outside clattered and banged in the strengthening wind.

  Great! That’s all I need – a gale-force wind.

  Toby peered out through the rain now lashing onto the deck. Should he keep going in a storm? Lady wasn’t designed to cope with the winter storms of the North Sea. It might be wise to get her into an inlet where she wouldn’t get buffeted by the worst of the weather.

  What shall I do? If I keep going I risk losing the boat, but if I put her into shelter I’ll lose time and risk losing Dad and Sylvie. I wish Dad was here to decide.

  As the boat pitched and rolled onwards, Toby rubbed his aching head with his battered and sore hand. There was nothing for it, he decided, but to keep going to Fort George as long as he could. The storm might blow itself out, and the weather might improve the further north he travelled.

  On one rocky outcrop he spied an ancient castle lying in ruins, poised high above the sandy shore. Where once windows had been, now empty black holes looked out over the sea.

  That would be an excellent place for a lookout. You could see for miles over land and sea from there.

  The castle looked vaguely familiar but he had never seen it from the sea. Before the red fever, when they had had a normal life of family outings and picnics, his mum and dad used to take them to a castle somewhere along this bit of coast.

  It had been called Find… Finhorn? No – was it Findochty? No, it was Findlater Castle. I remember now. This must be it! Yes – there it is on the map.

  They had walked to it from a car park in a farmyard, scrambling down the grassy bank to cross the narrow path to the castle. Mum would shout out “Watch where you’re going!” and “Be careful!” as he and his dad climbed up and around the crumbling walls of the ruin. Afterwards they would take a picnic down to the beach below and play with their dog, Monty, throwing sticks into the waves for him to swim after.

  Toby’s tummy rumbled as he remembered the delicious fish and chips they ate for tea in the nearby fishing village of Portsoy. His mum loved the gift shop there and always bought a smooth coloured egg, crafted from the local marble, to add to her collection. Toby wondered where those eggs were now.

  Don’t look back! Those days are gone forever.

  He glanced to the castle and something caught his eye. A flickering shadow passed across one of the gaping holes. He tensed and then strained to see what it was. Nothing moved.

  Must have been imagining it.

  But then again, a quick movement attracted his attention. Dark shadows flitted across an open stone doorway.

  “NO! Not the dogs! Not here!” Toby shouted out. The black head of a large dog appeared in a doorway. This was no ordinary mongrel, no pet dog roaming loose after losing its owner to the red fever. This was a huge powerful dog that knew how to hunt in packs. It would not be on its own. Toby watched nervously for more of them. Sure enough, within a few seconds three dogs were looking out of the doorway. They sniffed the air and turned to look out to sea.

  They’ve seen me! Thank goodness I’m too far away for them to swim out to me. But Toby still felt a cold fear clutching at his insides. He hated the dogs. They were the reason why he and his dad and Sylvie had had to leave their lighthouse home on the edge of the sea at Collieston. They were the reason why it had become unsafe to travel freely on land, and they were the reason why his mum was no longer with them.

  Don’t worry about that now! I’m no use to Dad and Sylvie if I get scared. Be strong!

  More dark shadows passed the windows and another three dogs joined the others at the doorway. Toby frowned; there seemed to be a lot of dogs for such a remote place. It was almost as if they had been following him.

  Stop thinking, you idiot! Get on and decide what you’re going to do when you get to Fort George.

  But no matter how hard he tried to plan, Toby didn’t have a clue what he was going to do. He didn’t know what he was going to find when he got there.

  The weather did improve as the Lucky Lady chugged along the coast. He could see from the map that Fort George stood on a promontory jutting out into the inlet of the Moray Firth, which led to Inverness. As long as he followed the coastline he couldn’t go wrong, unless a misty haar descended.

  The wintry sun flickered on the waves as he steered the boat westwards. Toby became aware of the dappled purple and green hills to his right at he sailed further into the Firth.

  That must be the Black Isle.

  He began to swing the boat slowly out into the middle of the estuary to save fuel. The flow of the tide was faster here, and the Lucky Lady sped forwards. Before long he spotted a piece of land jutting out and the estuary narrowed. He would be too visible sailing into water so close to the land. He decided to find a place to anchor up and wait for the cover of darkness.

  Will I find the fort in the dark? Will I find Dad and Sylvie in the dark? Be positive! I can do this. I know I can. I have to.

  3. A Mighty Fort

  As darkness crept slowly over the hills, Toby edged the Lucky Lady closer and closer to the headland upon which stood Fort George.

  “What on earth?” he gasped. An enormous wall of grey stone towered high above him, sweeping sideways as far as he could see. Toby had never seen such an awesome structure. Whoever had built it had been serious about keeping out invaders. High up, sited at intervals on the top of the wall, he could just make out a line of small, round stone buildings. Each had a fancy roof with a stone ball sat on top, and each had several slits in the walls to give anyone occupying them an excellent view of the sea.

  Sentry posts and lots of them. Better be careful. Someone might be watching out right now.

  Toby couldn’t see any lights shining from the sentry towers but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t keeping guard.

  He searched desperately for a pier where he could tie up the Lucky Lady. The dinghy that was usually moored to the back of the boat had been lost in the raiders’ attack. The only other choice was to anchor the Lady and swim in the icy water to the shore. As the wintry evening closed in, he didn’t like that idea at all. One cold dunking in a day was quite enough.

  Toby cut the engine to a quiet purr and steered cautiously round the headland to his left. He peered up into the gloom of the lowering sky.
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  He tried not to think about what he was going to do once he got into Fort George, even if, indeed, he could get into it. The place looked totally impenetrable.

  On this side of the fort, the beach was protected with large wooden poles dug into the shingle. Their stark angular forms threw eerie shadows across the water.

  Must have been put there to stop invaders storming the beach.

  Holding his breath, he steered round the end of the headland and saw something that gladdened his heart. Built into the side of the headland was a small stone harbour. The water was deeper here and Toby easily manoeuvred the Lucky Lady through the harbour opening, and bumped her up alongside a wall.

  This is the tricky part. He clutched Lady’s rope and leapt from the moving boat up onto the wall. Pulling the rope tight behind him, he quickly wound it around a bollard on the quayside. Lady came to a bobbing halt.

  Phew!

  Toby glanced around him. There was no sign of anybody or anything, only the sound of the roaring wind as it whipped across the sea with a vengeful bitterness. He shivered with the cold but also with dread of what might lie ahead. He tugged the zipper on the boiler suit right up to his chin and pulled down his black woolly hat.

  Better move fast just in case there is someone around.

  He slunk low to the ground and half ran, half hopped into the lee of the tall walls, which seemed to bristle with ferocity and history.

  Bet you’ve seen some scary sights. Toby clung against the chilly damp stones. He stared through the growing dark up to his left where a track led through an archway into the fort. He then spotted the inflatable lying beached on the shingle shore like a fat grey whale. He ran up to it and felt the outboard motor. It was still warm; the raiders couldn’t have arrived long before him. Then he had a brilliant idea. Reaching into his pocket to pull out his Swiss Army knife, he unsheathed the biggest blade and sank it deep into the side of the plastic boat. With a soft hiss the air escaped. Toby punched the boat in several more places with his knife.

  We don’t want them chasing us when we escape. When we escape? More like if we escape!

  He scraped along the wall and then dropped down onto the track where it disappeared into an entrance. A massive wooden door studded with black nuts and bolts stood in front of him.

  “Oh no! No way am I going to get through that!” he blurted out aloud, and then could have kicked himself for being so stupid.

  Shut UP!

  But as Toby looked at the door, he realised that a much smaller door was built inside it, disguised by the pattern of nuts and bolts. He took hold of a particularly large nut and tried to turn it. It slid round to the right and the tiny door swung open.

  Yeah! He bent low and stepped through the opening into the fort.

  Something hit him hard in the back and he felt the ground rush up to meet him. As a white flash collided with darkness in his head, Toby fell to the ground, unconscious.

  When a thin dull light streamed through the barred windows, Toby woke. Every inch of him felt black and blue. He sniffed heavily but was too shocked to cry. So much for his rescue mission. Now it was him who needed rescuing.

  He took in his surroundings. He was lying on a narrow metal bed at the end of a row, on top of a thin jute mattress that appeared to be stuffed with straw. Toby could feel the itchy stalks pushing through the coarse cloth.

  He rolled over slowly and gasped: there, stood in the corner, was a tall man wearing a large bearskin hat and a caped greatcoat. The man was standing stock-still. The shadows from the low dawn light threw him into relief so that Toby couldn’t see his face, nor could he hear his breathing.

  Where am I? This looks like an old prison. How long have I been here? And who’s that weirdo dressed up as a soldier from who knows when? How am I going to get out with him there?

  Toby rolled quietly over to face the other way but there seemed no possibility of escape there either. He felt a heavy weight descend upon him. He had failed his dad and Sylvie at almost the first hurdle. Now he had to lie here and wait for the men, whoever they were, to come and dispose of him however they wanted. No one was going to come and rescue him. No one even knew he was here. It was hopeless.

  As if on cue, the door banged open and two men strode into the chamber. Toby flinched as they grabbed him by his raw and throbbing wrists, and hauled him to his feet. The man they called the Captain appeared at the doorway.

  “Now young man! Not dead after all, eh? You may well wish you were once we’ve finished with you.”

  “What do you want with me and my dad and Sylvie?” Toby blurted out. One of the raiders dug him hard in the ribs.

  “Only speak when the Captain says you can!” he growled.

  “That’s right Calvert, you teach this young pup a few manners,” said the Captain. “Now, I want to know a few things about your dad and what he used to do. He’s not telling us but I reckon you will.”

  “Well, you reckoned wrong, didn’t you?” Toby cried. The raider gave him a harder thump. Toby felt the man’s fist connect with a bruise, and gasped.

  “We don’t want to hurt you; we don’t do torture. We leave that to the General. He’s strange that way – gets pleasure out of other people’s pain,” continued the Captain, smiling as he advanced towards Toby. Toby could now see the man clearly: he was smaller than the others, but somehow filled the room with his menacing presence. His dark skin was covered with the white wheals of old scars and, with his short legs and heavy-set body, he reminded Toby of a pit bull terrier he had once seen in Aberdeen. The dog had been a fighter and carried the scars to prove it, just like this man.

  “Who’s this General? That’s a bit sad, isn’t it – giving yourselves military ranks?” jeered Toby, trying to sound a lot braver than he felt. “Playing at being soldiers, are you?” He braced himself for what he felt sure the raider was going to do to him. But instead, the Captain stuck his face right up to Toby’s and sneeringly said,

  “HA! You won’t think we’re playing at soldiers once you see what we’ve done at New Caledonia! You’ll be amazed when you see what the General has built – a whole new world! Unfortunately for you, though, you are not one of the lucky ones who are going to be able to enjoy what we’ve created. No, you see you haven’t got one of these —”

  The Captain pulled back the cuff of his jacket and shoved his arm under Toby’s nose. There, tattooed in black and red ink, were the initials,

  “And what’s more, you are never going to get one!” The Captain laughed. “Only the hand-picked special commandos have this and only they will get to reap the benefits of the new country we have built. Yes, we’ll live a life of luxury while people like you and your dad will do all the work!”

  “You’re crazy!” cried Toby, straining away from the Captain’s putrid breath.

  “Crazy? Don’t you think you need to be a bit crazy to survive the mess this world is in?” the Captain spat in Toby’s face. Up close, Toby could see the madness in the man’s eyes. He was seriously scary.

  How worrying is that? If the Captain is this mad – how much madder must this General be?

  Just then another raider appeared at the door.

  “Boss?” the man called to the Captain. “There’s a message just come in from the General. Seems like there’s been more trouble at Fort William.” Forgetting Toby, the Captain wheeled about and, striding over to the door, struck the man hard across the face with his hand.

  “How many times have I told you to address me as ‘Captain’? Not ‘Boss’!” he screamed. The raider muttered some apology as the Captain pushed past him, leaving the two raiders holding Toby. They threw him roughly back onto the bed and then stormed off after their leader, only pausing to leer at the man in the doorway.

  “Yes, Jones, you moron – he’s called the Captain! Get it?” said Calvert with a sneer. “Now lock up our little friend here, and make sure you do it properly!”

  Seems like these guys are not all soldiers. Maybe I can use that to my a
dvantage?

  “What you smiling about?” Jones asked Toby. “You think it’s funny? Wait ‘til you meet the General!”

  “So, have you got one of those tattoos? Are you one of the chosen few?” Toby asked him, thinking that it could be a good idea to try and make Jones a friend. He remembered watching a film a long time ago, about a girl who was kidnapped. She had survived by being friendly with her captors who then saw her as a person and found it difficult to do her any harm.

  That feels like a good plan – it’s the only one I’ve got just now.

  “Mind your own business!” replied Jones, leaving the prison and slamming the door shut behind him. Toby listened as the locks were turned and bolts drawn.

  So much for that plan! Doesn’t sound like he’s forgotten to bolt the door, either. And he’s locked that weirdo in the corner in with me. He didn’t have much to say, did he?

  Toby glanced over at the motionless figure in the shadows, and then lay down on the prickly bed, clutching his sore stomach, which was now grumbling with hunger. Things couldn’t really get much worse – could they? All his plans now seemed totally useless, his energy was spent and his whole body ached.

  Where are Dad and Sylvie? They might be in the very next room… If I was to shout they would at least know I was still alive. They must be worried sick. I’ll just rest a little while and then try to let them know I’m here.

  Toby closed his eyes, tiredness overcame him, and he fell into an exhausted slumber.

  4. Wolf-Girl

  “Boy! Wake up, boy!” Someone was shaking him hard and hissing into his ear.

  “What? Am I dreaming?” Toby mumbled. The short rest had not cured his sore, heavy body.

  “Get up and hurry!” The hissing had become much more urgent and the shaking rougher. Toby sat bolt upright and stared at the figure sitting on his bed. The voice had definitely sounded like a girl, but the apparition on the bed looked more like a cross between a wolf and wild Mowgli-child.