The Night Fog

By Natasha Ruse

I shut the door quietly and trundled up the pathway towards the beach. I had arranged earlier to meet my dear friend, Juliet, at the boathouse. My mind was in turmoil! We urgently needed food and it was my intention to get it!

We packed the boat with the fishing gear and set off to sea, in hope of catching something big to satisfy our hunger.

I didn’t know how long we had been out at sea, hopelessly looking at the lines cast out in the ocean, with not so much as a nibble.

Both Juliet and I soon realised that many hours must have passed. The clear sky was now filled with a mist and the still, silent sea was now beating ferociously against the sides of our small, wooden boat. The time had come for us to row quickly back to shore. I began to feel ashamed at my failure to provide.

We soon realised that we were in big trouble. Our oars were useless against the pounding waves. We were being swept out to sea and, although we tried with all our might to fight against the raging sea, we knew it was useless. Juliet began to cry, she looked so small, and pitiful. Her long, mousy hair hung limp and soaked in strands around her face. I knew being the oldest that it was my duty to take charge. I tried to comfort my friend and not let her see the desperation that I felt. Our small boat had been pelted and bashed for what seemed like forever. Juliet and I huddled together on the wet, cold floor, trying to shield ourselves from the oncoming waves. The weather suddenly began to ease. I knew our poor boat had been swept far away from the beach where we had boarded. In the distance however I spotted dry land and shook Juliet excitedly. Relief overwhelmed me and a small tear prickled in my eye.

Stepping out of the boat onto dry land I tried to work out which island we had now arrived on. I had an idea it was the Scilly Rock, an uninhabited island to the west of Bryher. We pulled our boat out of the water and onto the golden sands. We trod wearily up the beach in the hope of finding shelter, so that we could dry our soaked clothing. The violent storm seemed to have passed and now sun streamed through the broken clouds.

We decided we would have time to explore a bit and dry off before returning to our boat and trying to make our way safely back to Bryher.

At the top of the beach a number of strange looking trees were growing. They were arranged in a complete circle, which fascinated us. Who on earth would arrange trees in such a pattern on a supposedly uninhabited island! In the dead centre of the circle there was a small mound of dirt covered by a pile of neatly placed sticks. Stranger and stranger!

Juliet and I carefully removed the sticks and began digging in the dirt with our bare hands. The episode in the boat long behind us because now we were enjoying our adventure and giggled, pretending we were pirates coming back to retrieve our long last treasure. Imagine our shock when our dirt cladded fingers hit on something hard and shiny beneath the ground. Perhaps our game had come true and we had found treasure and would be rich! Never feel hunger again!

Juliet helped me to dig out the object, which was in fact a box of some sort and of some size. Our hearts pounding with excitement, we dragged the box out. On opening it, a flush of disappointment hi us; -no glittering jewels; no shiny coins; no sparkling gems just what looked like bones shaped like horns. I can honestly say I would have just left them where they stood. Juliet, however, said we should take them back to Bryer with us as a souvenir of our adventure.

When we got back the whole of Bryer was standing on the beach looking at Juliet; looking at what was in Juliet’s hands. She held it up and everyone gasped. Juliet started to tell her Mum and Dad about the adventure we just had but her Mums and Dads eyes were fixed on the horn. Juliet saw this and started to blow on it. It was a horn all right and had a magnificent sound.

Suddenly after a while a distant sound could be heard coming from ocean. Someone from the crowd shouted out “WHALES!”

Hundreds of whales had gathered around the bay watching us. We went home dazzled that night and wondered whether the whales would be there in the morning.

The next day, Juliet and I set off early for Samson, As we walked along the beach we saw a note in the sand. It read, Well done guys, the curse is over. Samson is free again Z.W.

When I got home that night I asked my Mum about the curse and she said “Before I was born your Great Grandma set out to find that horn but never found it. She was an adventurer the same as you”.

“ Who was she Mum?” I asked.

“ She was called Gracie Jenkins!” Mum replied with a smile.