“It’s OK,” Violet says again, her voice growing calmer still as she gains confidence. “Everything’s OK. We’re here to help you.”

And I think, Bladderwracks, Vi is talking to it! To the malamander! This might actually work!

The creature lowers its claws and makes a low, purring burble.

But then, just as I’m beginning to dare to breathe, there’s a loud metallic clang! from somewhere else in the ship.

The malamander jolts its head up. It opens its cavernous, tooth-needle mouth and roars an ear-splitting, soul-tearing, nightmarish cry of saurian fury.

Then it charges at us.

THE BELLY OF THE BEAST

SO WE RUN. But just like a nightmare our legs are heavy as we force them through the water, and we hardly move. I know we can’t escape.

And so this is it.

The end of Herbert Lemon, Lost-and-Founder at the Grand Nautilus Hotel. And of brave Violet Parma, too, who thought she could reason with sea monsters and change the world. There’s nothing left to do now but decide if it’s worth fighting for a moment or two of extra life, or if it’s better to just fall down into the water and hope the end comes quickly.

I remember what Eels said about the sea being good for disposing of bodies. I suppose that’s true. Especially if the bodies are quite small, and devoured by a fish-man from legend in the belly of a sunken warship.

The malamander is not held back by the water as we are. If anything, it gains speed as it approaches, its fins slicing through the flood, its hands slapping back the sides of the corridor in its furious charge towards us.

I grip my Lost-and-Founder’s cap with both hands and close my eyes as the monster leaps. I wait for the pain of the tooth-needle bite, for the rush of the venom, but … nothing. I open one eye, and roll it around as much as I dare.

Still nothing!

Violet is crouching beside me, both eyes wide open.

“It jumped right over us!” she gasps. “It’s gone!”

I stand up and stare down the corridor. The water in the T-junction is still swirling crazily where the creature passed. We can hear it screeching and clicking and scraping its way deeper into the ship.

I look at Vi.

“Eels!” we both say.

We wade forward to the T-junction, and look to where the creature went. Somehow my torch fell from my hands when it jumped over us, but Vi still has hers.

“How much time do we have?” she asks.

I look at my watch. And gasp. “We don’t. It’s quarter past ten. Low tide. We have about twenty minutes of slack water, tops, and then the tide will be coming back up. This corridor will be flooded again in half an hour.”

“Then come on!”