Cave of Secrets by Morgan Llywelyn Page A

spin them off course. The oarsmen had to use all their skill to maintain control.
    ‘Nothing to worry about,’ Fergal assured the boy. ‘It’s always like this between here and the Fastnet.’
    ‘What’s the Fastnet?’
    Muiris said, ‘Fastnet Rock, Tomás. The sea here is more dangerous than anywhere else on the coast. Few ships will risk it, which suits our purpose. We want no witnesses to what we do tonight.’
    The turbulence grew worse. The oarsmen grunted with effort. Tom was drenched by icy spray from the waves that battered the boat and a cold rain driven by a bitter wind. The rain slanted sideways, slamming into his face with the force of pebbles. He lost sight of the other currach.
    ‘They’d better be here after all this,’ Fergal muttered.
    The voice of the gale rose to an inhuman howl.
    The waves looked like mountains to Tom. The currach dropped into a deep valley, then rode up on a cresting wave only to plunge down again. The boy grabbed the side of the boat with both hands. He was too scared to be seasick. He longed to be back in Roaringwater House, with four stout walls around him and the weather locked outside.
    Or did he? No matter what happened, would he not rather be here with Muiris and the others than anywhere else in the world?
    A calm, strong voice reached him over the wind. ‘Your first storm is always the worst, Tomás,’ said Muiris.
    Those words steadied the boy. He forced himself to take one hand from the side of the boat so he could wipe the water out of his eyes. He looked at the men hunched over their oars, obviously accustomed to rough seas. How brave they were! Tom wanted to be just like them.
    They fought on. Then Tom heard a relieved cry, and a moment later he glimpsed a large ship through the rain. ‘God bless the man,’ Muiris said clearly.
    Under his direction the currach was manoeuvred into the lee of the ship, where it could be partly shielded from the storm. The other currach soon joined them. A rope ladder was lowered down the side of the ship but the pounding sea made it dangerous to climb. Muiris would not let anyone else go with him. He had a brief, hard exchange about this with Séamus, but in the end Muiris won out.
    Tom held his breath as he watched Muiris lean out of the currach to catch the swaying rope ladder, then go up hand over hand. There was a moment of relief when he safely made it over the rail and onto the deck. Then came a long wait, while the men at the oars struggled to maintain their position.
    ‘Why don’t we fasten our boats to the bottom of the ladder?’ Tom asked Fergal.
    ‘Because the wind could change at any time. We could be swept away by the sea and tear the ladder down with us. Worse still, we might be slammed against the side of the ship and have no way to escape before the currachs were crushed. Freedom is everything, Tomás.’
    They continued to wait. Buffeted by the storm, swinging in a wild sea.
    ‘Has something gone wrong?’ Tom wanted to know.
    Fergal said, ‘You never know.’ He sounded tense.
    ‘Muiris told me this was safe.’
    ‘Did he now?’ Fergal gave an odd laugh, somewhere between a snort and a cough. ‘Our friend has a strange idea of “safe”.’
    They waited. A man in the other currach began to whistle through his teeth. He was interrupted by a familiar shout from the deck. A loaded cargo net was lowered over the side. It struck the bottom of Tom’s currach with a mighty thud. Two men swiftly removed a number of soft leather bags from the net. They placed the bags in the centre of the currach while the rest of the crew struggled to hold the vessel steady.
    Surprisingly, when the net was only half empty it was hauled up again. Not taken back aboard ship, but left dangling against the side. Muiris called down a command in Irish to his men. The currach in which Tom rode movedaway to allow the other to take its place. The net was lowered once more. The remainder of its contents – more leather bags – were