I glance at Violet, and she’s waving her hand at me to hurry. She’s already on the deck of the Leviathan. I climb till I can haul myself over onto the deck beside her.

Where I land with a loud metallic CLANG!

The approaching light, which has been heading for the prow of the ship, immediately swings round towards us.

We both drop low behind the ship’s side, but it’s riddled with holes and particles of torchlight play over us both.

Vi jabs her finger towards the prow, and I follow her, still crouched. After a moment, we risk another peek.

Sebastian Eels is now walking straight towards the place where we climbed, his torch fixed on that point.

“Oh, bladderwracks!” I say, but Vi is pointing again.

Behind us, on the deck, looms one of Leviathan’s gun turrets, its two long barrels festooned with dripping seaweed. We manage to duck behind it just as Sebastian Eels swings himself up onto the deck.

The man is an extraordinary sight. He has a full wetsuit on, complete with oxygen tank. A diving mask is pushed back onto his forehead, and a mouthpiece dangles at its side, ready for use. Over his suit he wears a long-sleeved vest of glittering steel chain mail, the kind people wear to swim with sharks. He has a packed equipment belt, a long dagger in a sheath strapped to one thigh, and head-mounted torches on his helmet. In his hands he holds the harpoon gun, sweeping it from side to side, ready to release its deadly darts at anything he wishes.

We shrink back into the shadow of the gun turret.

There’s a porthole door at the back of it, fixed open a sliver on rust-blistered hinges, but do we really dare go in there? I shake my head at Violet when she points at the door. I feel my insides go watery at the thought of what could be lurking inside the turret.

But as we creep round the other side, away from Eels, a dark shadow grows behind us, blotting out the silver moonlight. We spin round, and see a terrible sight: Boathook Man is hauling himself over the far side of the ship! We’re surrounded!

Violet pulls me back towards the door of the turret. I try to shake her off, to protest, but she pulls even harder. Boathook Man could swing his head our way any moment, and we’ll be seen. And Eels is heading round the other way. I let myself be pulled to the twisted metal doorway and watch with mounting horror as Violet squeezes herself through.

Into the dark.

And I have no choice.

As the sound of ringing footsteps grows closer and closer on the iron deck, I edge towards the doorway, and allow Violet to pull me into the black, dripping, windowless unknown.

THE MALAMANDER’S LAIR

THE STINK OF THE SEA is overwhelming.