Black Tide Read online

  “Click! Click! Click! Click! Click!” they shouted at each other. The curious noises seemed to be their way of communication. They tossed their shiny domed heads out of the foam and appeared to be winking at Toby with their dark eyes. A strange feeling of calm and comfort came over him as suddenly, in this maelstrom of water and the fury of the waves, he felt safe, guarded by the beautiful creatures.

  He reached the shallow waters of the mud flats to the left of the bridge and dangled his toes down to find a grip on the cloudy bottom. The dolphins broke away to his right and took off at speed, his last view of them being their sinewy bodies arching out of the water, breaking the surface with a white foamy splash.

  Toby dragged himself onto the muddy beach littered with old oil cans, plastic bottles and carrier bags. He was exhausted. The pummelling of the sea on his weary body, and the shock of the icy cold water when he had hardly warmed from his last soaking, had taken their toll. He just wanted to curl up somewhere warm and sleep.

  Come on! Pull yourself together. Just one more effort. Look for the boat.

  He scanned the wide waters of the estuary under the bridge and spied the Charlotte Rose. She was bobbing in the slack water just beyond where he was half lying, half standing, dripping with freezing water and half drowned in putrid mud. Then he saw Tash waving to him.

  “Tobes! I can see you! Don’t worry! I’ll save you!” she shouted, swinging the boat round. Toby pointed to a small harbour where a boat yard had once been. Tash steered the boat clumsily through the entrance and bumped it up against the quayside. Toby winced as the glass-fibre hull grated along the stone walls.

  “Don’t criticise, she’s doing her best,” he murmured under his breath as he tried to stand in the murky mess.

  He managed to pull himself onto the parapet of the harbour wall and staggered along to the side of the Charlotte Rose. Using his last ounce of energy he lowered himself down a metal ladder in the harbour wall and jumped the last three feet onto the deck of the boat, stumbling as he fell at Tash’s feet.

  “You’re some hero, Tobes!” she gushed, trying to pick him up from the floor. “You need to rest now. Don’t worry – I’ll keep watch.” She bundled him down the steps and into the cabin.

  “Amazing…” mumbled Toby, “Did you see those dolphins? It was magic – like they knew exactly how to save me. Did you see them, Tash? I was a goner… I couldn’t have survived that tide… and then they came… Did you see them, Tash?” He babbled incoherently for a few minutes and then realised he was on his own in the cabin. He peeled off yet another pile of soggy cold clothes and, wrapping himself in a thick towel, collapsed on a sofa bed in the corner. “Amazing, absolutely amazing…” he mumbled as exhaustion overtook him and he fell into a restless sleep.

  “Cerberus? What are you doing here?” Toby asked the big black dog standing next to the bed, but then it turned white and Toby realised it was Jamie’s dog, Belle. But then it turned into a silvery dolphin that clicked at him as if he understood what it was saying. But then a black dog chased it away, and another big black dog with a stump for a tail was standing over him, drooling and slavering and saying:

  “I got rid of the raiders and now I’m going to get rid of you!”

  When Toby next woke, the winter sun was streaming in through the portholes. He could smell something that made him think for a moment he was back in the cottage at Collieston, snuggled down in his duvet with Monty sleeping at his feet.

  “Do you like fresh bread?” called Tash from the galley. “I found some dry yeast and flour, and made a crusty loaf.”

  “Cool! You’re good at this cooking stuff, aren’t you?” enthused Toby, pulling on some more of his newly acquired wardrobe. This time he had a pale-blue polo shirt with matching fleece and navy joggers, and even found matching socks.

  Sylvie’s going to be really impressed with my new image – she won’t recognise me.

  After they had sat and eaten warm bread and peanut butter for breakfast, Toby felt much better. He was desperate to get to Fort William.

  “Where do you think this New Caledonia could be?” he asked Tash. “It has to be in Scotland – obviously.”

  “Why?” asked Tash, quietly. Toby thought she was the one looking ill this morning. Her face was pale and puffy and she seemed subdued.

  “Caledonia is just an old-fashioned name for Scotland, sort of… But Scotland covers a huge area. There are massive tracts of just wilderness and mountains – we’ll never find it without help or a clue.” Immediately, he regretted saying this. Tash needed cheering up, not being told the horrible hard facts of the mission. “Still, I expect we’ll find out something once we get to Fort William. With any luck the General will be there with both our families!”

  “Uh-huh,” mumbled Tash.

  Toby checked the prow of the Charlotte Rose. Whatever they’d hit in the dark had left a dent, but no worse damage. He backed the motor boat out of the small harbour and cruised slowly round the edge of a derelict industrial estate. It was full of tumbled-down buildings with broken windows, litter heaped in huge piles, and abandoned smashed cars. Then he spotted two small buildings shaped like lighthouses marking the mouth of the canal. He swung the boat into the smooth flat surface of the man-made waterway.

  Phew! It should be a lot easier from here. No waves or high seas to battle and hopefully no raiders. It should be plain sailing all the way to Fort William.

  The Charlotte Rose slid serenely along the canal, past an old coastguard house.

  “Whoa!” Toby suddenly threw the throttle backwards. The engines went into reverse, churning up the water behind them, and the boat slewed sideways coming to an abrupt halt.

  “What happened?” shouted Tash from below, where she was trying on some of the smart sailing clothes.

  I’m SO stupid! I should have known that there would be locks on a canal.

  In front of the Charlotte Rose stood a pair of tall wooden gates. One had been swung back to let the water out of a deep, stone-walled pen that stood between them and the rest of the canal. Tash’s head popped up from the hatch to the cabin.

  “Why isn’t the boat moving?”

  “We’re stuck. These are lock gates. We won’t be able to get through the locks without help. We need to get the boat into that pen, close these gates behind us, then open the sluice gate in front of us to let the water into the pen from the canal up ahead. That will bring the water in the pen up to the same level as the onward canal. Then we can open the front gates of the pen and travel on into the canal.”

  “I don’t understand, Tobes,” said Tash solemnly.

  Toby explained that the water in the canal was at a higher level than the sea they’d come from, so in order to travel along the canal they had to pass through a number of locks, a bit like a water staircase. Each time they were going up a step, they had to move the water up with them by opening and closing the lock gates. The water coming into the lock – the pen made by the gates – would lift the boat to the next step.

  “Basically it means we’re stuck. We’ll never manage to open and close all the lock gates and manoeuvre the boat by ourselves. I don’t think it’s possible with just the two of us. Maybe if we were big strong raiders we could do it, but…”

  Toby kicked out at the side of the boat.

  “What do we need to do?” asked Tash. “Surely we just need to push the gates open and closed?”

  “Yeah, but those gates weigh a ton and even using the levers to do it, we’d have to be really strong.”

  “You don’t know until you’ve tried. Come on, Toby! Don’t give up so easy. We don’t have any choice, do we?”

  She’s right – of course. We haven’t even tried yet. It’s just… I get so tired of always battling against things. Nothing ever seems to go to plan.

  “Ok, you’re right. Let’s have a go at least.”

  Toby swung the Charlotte Rose over to the wall and clambered up a ladder onto the lock side. He ran along to inspect the lock and t
he gates. It looked scary. A deep pool of dark water sat low in the bottom of the pen. The first huge door was open, and there was enough room to guide the svelte boat through the gap. He ran back to the boat and jumped down into the cockpit.

  “We’re going for it!” he yelled to Tash, pushing the throttle forward.

  I hope this works. I’m not sure I’ll be able to back the boat out if we can’t close the gate.

  Toby nudged the boat forward slowly, just clearing the open gate.

  Gently, gently. Slowly, slowly.

  He let the engines idle and steered the boat against the wall of the pen. Leaping up to the lock side, he raced back to the gate, with Tash following him. Together they started to push the huge pole that levered it closed.

  “PPPPPUSH!” yelled Toby, straining hard against the lever. The cold metal was slippery and he bumped and banged his arm on it.

  “I am pushing!” shouted back Tash, through gritted teeth. The pole refused to move. They tried again, digging holes into the sandy path to gain a foothold, before throwing their weight behind the lever together.

  “ARRRGGGG!” Toby screamed as it seemed that every sinew in his body was about to burst with effort. He glanced to his side to see Tash’s white knuckles gripping the lever. They seemed to have been pushing for ages with no result when suddenly the arm of the lever moved a little. Encouraged, they carried on with renewed vigour.

  “It’s moving!” cried Toby, as the towering black gate started to swish slowly through the murky brown water of the pen. They kept pushing until the gate nudged tightly up against its partner.

  “YES!” they both shrieked, slapping their hands together in a high five.

  “I really didn’t think we would manage that,” sighed Toby, rubbing his shoulder. “Gosh, you must be really strong, Tash.”

  “No, Toby – you’re the strongman. You’re a real hero!”

  He smiled. He remembered Jamie saying very much the same thing to him but he never felt a hero; he never felt that brave.

  “We’ve not finished yet,” he said. “We need to open the sluice gate now. Hopefully that won’t be quite so hard.”

  Toby led the way up to the top gates and walked across them, peering down into the water on the far side where the level was much higher. Bits of branches, carrier bags and old rusted cola cans bumped along the wooden gate. He looked down the other side where the Charlotte Rose was sitting in the bottom of the pen, now trapped between the two sets of gates. He knew that really he should be in the boat, stopping her from bashing about while the water gushed in. But Tash wouldn’t be able to open the sluice gate or the lock gates on her own.

  “Help me turn this wheel, Tash,” commanded Toby. “This will open the sluice gate at the bottom of the lock gate and let enough water through to make the levels the same. Then we have to open these front lock gates.” Tash nodded and gripped the large iron wheel with both hands. They both grimaced as they pulled the wheel to the right.

  I hope I’ve told her to turn it the right way – it is clockwise, isn’t it?

  The wheel gave way quite easily and began to turn. Toby could hear the whoosh of water under pressure escaping through the sluice gate into the pen. The shiny hull of the Charlotte Rose started to dance and wobble as the water foamed in.

  Oh, I can’t bear to watch. I hope she doesn’t get damaged or we’re in deep trouble: no boat, no transport and no rescuing Dad and Sylvie.

  Toby and Tash stood in silence watching the water bubbling up around the slim silvery boat. After about ten minutes the water was slapping at the same level on both sides of them – the pen was at the same water height as the canal – and it was time to open the massive lock gates in front of the boat. This was the bit Toby was really dreading.

  “Ready Tobes?” Tash stood to attention at the next lever.

  “Hopefully I can squeeze the boat through one side gate; if one side is closed she’ll be steadier while we get on her,” gasped Toby, pushing with all his might against the lever. This one was stuck, too, and they pushed and shoved and pushed again but still it refused to budge.

  “PUSH!” Toby screamed and leapt at the lever, digging his heels into the slippery gravel on the track. Tash grunted next to him, pushing as hard as she could.

  “It’s moving!” Toby felt a flood of relief as the rusty lever squeakily shuddered away from them, and the heavy wooden gate swung slowly outwards through the water. Toby and Tash fell breathless to the ground.

  “That was a near thing,” gasped Tash, pushing her jet black hair out of her eyes.

  “Yeah! I’ll say! Come on, let’s get aboard before she floats off and disappears without us,” Toby cried, sprinting back to the boat. He faltered one moment at the edge of the lock wall. The Charlotte Rose had been swung round by the incoming force of water so she was several feet from the lock edge.

  Some leap that. Still…

  Before he could think too much about it, Toby had flung himself out towards the deck of the boat.

  THUD!

  He landed heavily in the cockpit.

  Safe – but sore.

  He rubbed his bruised shin. All he had to do now was get Tash on board and steer out into the open canal. Suddenly Tash landed with a surprising lightness next to him.

  “Hi!” she cried. “What you waiting for?”

  Toby smiled.

  “Yep, what am I waiting for? Fort William here we come!”

  11. Sitting Ducks

  As the Charlotte Rose powered down the canal, Toby tried to work out how long it would take them to reach Fort William. He had spent some time poring over the map, and it didn’t look that far. He glanced at the walnut fascia inlaid with shiny chrome dials.

  Looks like we’re travelling at about ten knots, so we should reach Fort Augustus in roughly three hours. It’ll depend on how many other locks there are to get through. And Fort Augustus is about halfway from here to Fort William. With any luck we should be there just before it gets dark.

  Tash was down below, cooking up something or other from the packets and tins filling the cupboards.

  Funny, but some of that stuff doesn’t look that old – certainly not three years old.

  When Toby and his dad and Sylvie had lived in the lighthouse at Collieston, before the dogs had made it too dangerous to travel across land, they had taken the old battered Land Rover and searched for food. He remembered how excited they had been about a trip to the Tesco supermarket at Ellon, but when they had got there the shelves were empty. Someone had already taken all the tins and bottled foods. All that was left were boxes and boxes of stale crackers and plain biscuits. They took them home and ate them with the vegetables they grew in the compound and the eggs from their chickens. Once his dad had suggested killing a chicken to eat at Christmas, but Sylvie had got so upset at the thought of eating Matilda they ended up having nut loaf instead. Toby hadn’t minded; he didn’t like to see Sylvie cry.

  “Tash? Can you come up here and steer while I check the map?” Toby shouted down the hatch. Tash arrived beside him and took over the controls. “If I’m not mistaken we must be nearly at the end of the man-made canal and about to enter into Loch Ness itself.”

  Toby lowered himself down the steps and into the cabin. He stared at the map. There was a bit he didn’t understand. A faint blue line cut across the loch just after the canal opened up.

  I wish you were here Dad – I could do with your help right now.

  “TOBES!”

  “What?” Toby dashed back up to the cockpit. Tash looked at him in terror.

  “Look!” she screamed. “Which way should we go?”

  The boat had sailed out of the canal and was now powering across an open basin of water as it entered Loch Ness. The Charlotte Rose was speedily approaching a thin sliver of land in the middle of the basin. The narrow island was covered in birch trees and straggly bushes, and split the loch into two. To the left the water was picking up speed as the level of the river fell steeply, causing the fast
flow to tug the boat sideways. Toby hit the throttle to pull the boat out of the grip of the current and spun the steering wheel to the right. The boat swerved past the island on its left. At the end of the spit of land, Toby saw a large, yellow, triangular sign:

  DANGER! WEIR! – KEEP TO THE RIGHT!

  “Tash! The sign! You didn’t say you couldn’t read English well!” He turned to catch sight of the foaming waters beyond the spit cascading over a weir. “We’d have been wrecked if we’d hit that!” Toby’s heart was thumping furiously in his chest.

  It’s like I’m responsible for everything and everybody, all the time!

  “Sorry,” Tash mumbled and went back down below.

  Toby realised now what the blue line on the map had meant: it marked the position of the weir on the canal. He brought the boat back to a reasonable speed and tried to concentrate on keeping it straight down the middle of the loch. Loch Ness’s dark peaty waters swirled around them, and he remembered the stories his dad had told about the Loch Ness monster. Nessie was supposed to live in the fathomless depths of the loch. Toby had once seen a very old photo supposedly taken of Nessie, but it just looked like three lumps protruding out of the water.

  The rest of the morning passed quietly. Tash stayed out of sight in the cabin.

  Bet she’s sulking. Well, I haven’t got time for all that sort of stuff. I’ve got to get us safely to Fort William.

  Yet, as he stood in the cold watching the grey clouds racing across the tops of the snow-covered hills, he felt quite lonely. The mottled brown-black landscape stretched into the distance: miles and miles of rock and scrub and mountains that had sat quietly observing in silence for thousands of years. It was good to talk over plans and things with someone else. He hoped she wasn’t going to be huffy all day. Just then he spotted something.

  “Tash!” he shouted. “Come and look at this!” He heard her climbing up the steps.