Martin was awake before dawn. He fed the fire and sat by it. Skipper came and sat with him. “Now then, messmate. You’ve got a face on you like a wet water beetle’s grandad. Why so worried?”

Martin smiled half-heartedly. “Oh, it’s listening to those stories that the crew were telling about the Gloomer, I suppose. It’s all my fault for coming here and causing trouble for you, Skipper.”

The big otter gave Martin a hearty clap on the back that nearly sent him head over tail. “Ha harr. Bless your little ’eart, me old warrior. You don’t want to listen to that scuttlebutt. Was that all you was afeared of? You come with me and I’ll introduce you to our Stormfin.”

“Stormfin?”

“Aye, Stormfin, matey. Come ’ere to the back of the cave.”

In the darkness of the cavern recess, Skipper showed Martin a sluicegate that blocked the canal across its middle. There were narrow spaces in the gate, allowing the water to flow through. At one side was a hollow log.

Skipper picked up a cudgel and passed it to Martin. “Listen, mate, that big pussycat may ’ave a Gloomer, but us otters got a Stormfin. You start thumpin’ that there log and I’ll raise the sluicegate. Stay clear of the water’s edge, though.”

Mystified, Martin began banging the log. The eerie sounds bounced off the cavern walls as Skipper raised the gate clear of the water.

The otter nodded sagely. “That’ll warn anyone who’s in the water to get out, Stormfin’s comin’. Watch the canal, now, and don’t forget to stay clear.”

Far back in the darkness something was beginning to come forward. A smooth wave rose; it slopped over the sides as the water was pushed along by some tremendous force. Martin was about to question Skipper when the otter lowered the gate slightly, and the water began roiling and bubbling. A long shape, like a section of tree trunk, smooth, with a many-spiked dorsal fin emerged.

Martin gasped and jumped back. “That’s Stormfin?”

“Aye, this is Stormfin, matey. Me and my brother trapped him long ago.” Skipper leaned forward and patted the giant pike’s fin, causing it to lash its tail. The water boiled into a white foam as the otter leaped back laughing.

“Hohoho! Take a look, Martin. You wouldn’t like to cross that cove’s path if you was out a-swimmin’, now would you?”

Martin leaned forward. He saw the powerful bony head with its muddy eyes and long hooking underjaw. The mouth opened slightly. He had never seen so many teeth in one mouth; there were row upon row of jagged backward curving rippers, needle-sharp and milky white. Stormfin seemed to be smiling in anticipation. With a flick of his mighty silver-and-black-banded bulk he butted his head against the lowered sluicegate, anxious to be freed into open water.

Skipper stood with both paws on the gate lever. “Right then, you old buccaneer. Don’t eat him too quick, now; you’ll make yourself sick.”