Joseph Delaney - The Spook's Mistake

Feeling more confident now, I began to jog behind Claw. The wind was getting up and the rain was starting to drive harder from my left. The sea was somewhere to my right. I could hear waves crashing in the distance but the visibility was worsening by the minute and I couldn't see more than a few dozen yards ahead.

I walked on, but as the sea fog grew thicker, I began to feel more and more isolated. How many miles was it to the second river channel? I consoled myself with the thought that, once across, it wasn't more than half an hour or so to Hest Bank and safety. We walked and walked and I began to lose all track of time. The wind had been coming from my left but now it seemed to have changed direction, driving rain hard into my back. Or had we changed direction? I couldn't tell. Wherever I looked, all I could see was a wall of grey mist, but I felt sure the sound of the waves was getting louder. What if we were heading out to sea?

Were we lost? I'd been afraid of the witch, but in my desperation to escape, had I put too much faith in Claw? Even if she could guide us to the far shore, why had I believed that she could possibly know about the tides? It seemed to me that the tide had already turned, but by now it was too late to retrace my steps. The sea would be sweeping in fast down both channels to cut me off — the water would be too deep for me to wade across and the current would surely carry me away.

As I began to lose all hope, I looked down at the sand at my feet and saw something that restored my confidence in Claw. There were tracks there: horses' hooves and two parallel lines recently made by the wheels of a coach. I hadn't seen the coach set off but we seemed to have caught up with it. We were following the sand guide! Claw was leading me in the right direction after all.

But when we reached the next channel, I despaired again. The water in the channel looked deep and the current was strong, water surging from right to left. The tide was coming in fast now.

Again Claw followed the bank for some way, this time to the right, which worried me because I knew that was probably taking us nearer to the sea. Soon she plunged into the water and swam across. I clambered down the bank as before and waded in. There was less distance to cover this time — maybe only ten paces — but three steps in and the water was up to my waist. Two more and it was almost up to my chest, the fierce current starting to pull me over. I struggled on, my feet sinking into the soft sand at the bottom of the channel as I tried to keep my bag clear of the water.

Just when the water reached my neck and I thought I would be swept away, I found higher ground. A few more strides brought me out of the water and I clambered up the bank to safety. But my ordeal wasn't over yet. The tide was now racing in over the flat sands. The mist had lifted and I could see the shore but it still seemed a long way off. The first incoming wave swept over my boots; the second well over my ankles. Soon Claw was swimming and the water was almost up to my waist again. If I had to swim, I would lose my staff and my bag, which contained my silver chain.

I urged myself on as fast as I could and finally, miraculously, I reached the edge of the bay and collapsed onto the bank above, struggling for breath, my limbs trembling with exhaustion and fear.

I heard Claw give a warning growl and I looked up to see a man with a staff standing over me. For a second I thought it was a spook but then realized it was Sam Jennings, the sand guide.

'You're a fool, boy!' he growled. 'What possessed you to cross so late and without a guide? I brought a coach over well before first light. One of the horses went lame and we barely made it in time ourselves.'

'I'm sorry!' I said, stumbling to my feet. 'But I was being chased. I had no choice.'

'Sorry? Don't waste your time apologizing to me. Think of your family who'd be left behind to grieve — your poor mother who'd have lost a son. Who was chasing you?'

I didn't reply. I'd said enough already.

He looked me up and down, glancing warily at my bag and staff. 'Even if it were the Devil himself at your heels, you did a reckless thing, boy. Bill told me himself that he'd warned you about the dangers here. He's crossed the sands with me more times than I can remember. Why didn't you listen?'

I said nothing.

'Anyway, let's hope you've learned your lesson,' he continued. 'Look, my cottage isn't too far yonder. Come and dry yourself off. No doubt my wife could find you some hot food to warm your bones.'

'Thanks for the offer,' I said, 'but I've got to get back to the mill.'

'Off you go then, boy. But think on. Remember what I've told you. Too many have drowned out on those sands. Don't you be another!'

I set off, shivering in my cold, wet clothes. At least I was a day ahead of the witch, and with any luck Alice and the Spook would join me soon. I hadn't told the guide that Arkwright was dead because it involved too much spooks' business. It seemed to me Arkwright would be missed. For all his faults he'd done a good job protecting those in the north of the County, and people knew and respected him almost as part of the community.

I'd just had a dangerous encounter with the sea but the wetlands of the northern County weren't finished with me yet. In an attempt to save time, rather than heading directly for the canal and following it down towards the mill, I tried a more direct approach from the north. I skirted the Little Mere, heading for the path where I'd first faced Morwena. I thought I was well clear of the bog but I was wrong. One moment I was squelching along quite happily, the next my right boot began to sink into the soft ground.

The more I struggled, the worse it got, and the soft mud quickly climbed halfway to my knee. I started to panic but then took a deep breath to calm myself. My other foot hadn't sunk in very far and must be on firmer ground. So, taking my weight on my staff, very slowly I managed to drag my right leg clear. The boot freed itself with loud sucking sound and I almost overbalanced.

After that I was much more careful about where I put my feet. It had made me realize just how dangerous the marsh could be. At last I reached the path and pressed on more swiftly towards the mill.

It was only as I approached it that I remembered the press gang and how one of them had threatened to kill us. Arkwright had laughed it off at the time but I wasn't as confident.

It would be easy enough to find out where a spook lived. What if they'd already discovered the location of the mill? They could be waiting in ambush, either in the garden or within the building.

But after cautiously crossing the moat and thoroughly checking the mill inside, including the room with the coffins, I realized my fears were groundless. No pressgangers and no witches. Then, despite my weariness, I carried the five barrels of salt out into the garden and tipped them into the moat, making sure that most went into the section open to the marsh. I needed to maintain the strength of the solution to keep out Morwena. Claw followed me while I did so, but then barked twice, circled me three times and bounded away into the distance — no doubt she was off hunting rabbits.

I was worried about the water pits under the mill too. There was the skelt and the witch to consider. Did they need more salt to keep them docile? If I put too much in, I might kill them, so I decided to take a chance and leave them be for now.

Back in the kitchen, I built up the fire in the stove and dried my wet clothes; then I allowed myself a well-deserved sleep before cooking a hot meal. That done, I decided to go upstairs to the attic room and search Arkwright's library for the book about Morwena. I hadn't read it all and I needed to find out everything I could about her. It might make the difference between death and survival. I was nervous of ghosts strong enough to move objects but it was still daylight and, after all, they were Arkwright's mam and dad, sad and trapped rather than malevolent.