Devil's Rock - Chris Speyer [0]
For my parents who taught me to sail
and for Ming who is learning
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Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Imprint
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Chapter 1
The jagged reef that straggles out to the east of Devil’s Rock was only just breaking the surface of the water, its vicious tips disappearing completely beneath the swell when a wave rolled over them. Zaki, riding on the yacht Morveren’s bowsprit, watched the foam streaming through the gaps in the glistening fangs as each wave surged across the outlying reef and heaved itself up the side of the brooding black rock that guards the entrance to the River Orme.
‘Start the engine!’ Zaki’s father shouted over the roar of the breaking waves.
‘I think we can make it!’ Michael was on the helm. He was forcing the yacht to claw its way into the wind, trying to make the entrance before the tide turned against them.
‘No you can’t. Not on this tack,’ snapped Zaki’s father. ‘Start the engine!’
Zaki knew his brother would put off starting the engine until the last possible moment. He’d take the boat into a harbour and on to its mooring under sail, if he possibly could. Michael saw starting the engine as an admission of defeat.
‘Plenty of time,’ Michael pleaded.
‘Ten minutes before the tide turns. Start the engine, Michael.’
Few boats ever venture into the River Orme. With its rock-strewn mouth gaping wide to the prevailing winds and a tongue of treacherous sand protruding from its constricted throat, the entrance is an uninviting prospect. Most sailors are put off by the curt description in the local cruising guide: ‘Dangerous in all but the most settled conditions.’ Some more intrepid skippers will approach to within sight of the outlying rocks, see the breaking waves on the sandbank, and turn back out to sea.
For Zaki and Michael, this was their river, its ferocious mouth guarding its inner secrets, protecting a world of pools, beaches and streams that they alone were meant to explore.
Zaki had been longing to visit the Orme all summer but the weather had frustrated them. It had been a summer of storms and torrential rain, the wind stubbornly blowing from the west or the south-west, and even Zaki’s father, who’d been sailing in and out of the Orme all his life, wouldn’t risk taking Morveren through the reefs in an onshore wind. This morning the forecast had promised northerlies for the next two days, and with them the chance to return to Devil’s Rock.
Zaki felt a shudder run through the boat as the old diesel engine thudded into life. Zaki scrambled off the bowsprit and half swung, half danced across the rocking deck. ‘Do you want the mainsail down?’ he asked.
‘We’ll get the sails down; you steer her in,’ said his father.
Zaki took a quick breath. He’d been allowed to steer the boat for as long as he could remember. But he’d never taken her into the Orme. Never threaded her through the terrifying maze of rocks and sandbanks that led to the inner sanctuary. Michael had done it, but then Michael was four years older. Zaki looked across at his brother, who was meticulously coiling a rope. Michael grinned. The grin said, ‘Dare you!’ He stepped away from the helm.
‘She’s all yours.’
‘Can you see the dead tree on the cliff?’ Zaki’s father asked.
Zaki knew why he had to find the tree. You lined the tree up with the craggy edge of Devil’s Rock. You kept the two in line and you found the narrow gap in the outer reef.
His father turned to Michael, ‘Let’s get the main down.’
Feet braced wide for balance, Zaki at the helm was just tall enough to see over the cabin roof. The anxiety that had swept through him a moment before drained away as he felt the boat’s tiller in his hand tugging and pushing like a living thing. He was born to do this, more at home on the rocking deck of a boat than he ever felt on the land.
‘Now,’ he said quietly