The water is nearly waist-high in this corridor, and the cold ferocious. As we wade forward, we hear a new noise, a gusting human cry. I can’t help hoping it’s Eels getting his backside bitten by the beastie, but I recognize the cry-maker as Boathook Man. And the cry, which comes again, sounds triumphant. There’s a fearsome answering roar from the malamander, and then all hell breaks loose, somewhere in the dark ahead.

“They’re fighting,” I say, as we push on.

The corridor ends in another T-junction, but there’s no doubt which way we have to turn. The right-hand passageway has corroded away altogether, and widens out to an open space. The ceiling has gone too, along with several bulkheads, and we are standing at the entrance to a great cavern. The iron beams of Leviathan’s hull are exposed, and curve overhead like giant ribs as we look into the belly of the sunken ship.

The cavern is one great pool of water, criss-crossed with half-submerged obstacles and twisted girders. At the far end, a great, glistening mound of seaweed can be seen, wreathed in mist.

“But … where are they?” Violet flashes her torch here and there.

The water is swirling and writhing, and suddenly I know why the malamander and Boathook Man can’t be seen.

“They’re underwater,” I say. “Still fighting. It must be really deep in here.”

I climb onto a fallen beam, suddenly afraid to be up to my waist in this icy black pool.

“M-maybe we don’t need to do this,” I say to Violet, stammering with the cold. “The m-malamander will fight them, and protect its egg. W-we should go back.”

“Not yet,” says Violet, and I see that she’s shining her torch at that strange mound of seaweed at the end of the cavern.

“It’s over there,” she says, climbing onto a girder ahead of me and edging into the cavern.

“What?” I say. “The egg?”

“Yes, look!”

And so I look.

The seaweed mound is riddled with rotten things: mouldy life jackets, slimy wood and what look like bones. Human bones. But on the top of it, nestled in a slight dip, something glows with a dim red light.

“Well, well, well,” says an echoing voice, and Violet goes still on the girder. “Come to witness my moment of triumph, have you?” A figure emerges from the water, and begins to climb the seaweed mound.

Sebastian Eels.

“It isn’t yours,” Violet declares. “I won’t let you take it.”

“And I,” says Eels, raising his harpoon gun in a lazy motion and aiming it at Violet, “won’t let you stop me.”

“You won’t shoot,” says Violet.

“Really?” Eels leers at her. He seems to be enjoying the moment. “Now why wouldn’t I do that?”