There was a pause. The man came a step closer. When he moved you could hear the creak of the frame, the soft shifting of the things attached to it. He wore his boots around his neck. His feet were bare.

“You are wondering,” he said, “how I did that. How I walked across. You are wondering if it was some enchantment.”

“Where has the water gone?” said Calley.

“The moon has it in her pockets,” said the pedlar.

“How’s that?” asked Calley.

“Tides, brother. On certain nights there is an hour at the ebb when you can cross. A bare hour, mind. You have to know what you’re about. When the water starts to come back you could not outrun it on a horse.”

“How much of the hour is left?”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

“I’d say half. A little more, a little less.”

“And how long does it take to cross?”

“Half an hour. More or less.”

“And when does it come again?”

“Like this? Two weeks, I’d say. Depending on her Lunar Majesty. She has her moods.”

Calley stepped away, got himself apart from the man’s light and stared out into the channel. He chewed his lip, made calculations that had little to do with time and distance and much to do with luck. How much he might have used, how much remained.

“I’ll go,” he said.

“I believe you will,” said the pedlar.

“I need a light.”

“Well now,” said the pedlar, “it so happens I am in a position to meet your needs.” He shrugged off his frame. He did it well, seemed to dance it down on to the sand. Then a moment of search, of rummage. “One like this?” he said.

“Yes,” said Calley.

“And you’ll need a candle. Do you have a candle?”

“A candle too,” said Calley. “You got any food?”

“Now food is a thing they do not really need me for. I have tobacco, a little brandy. I have fifteen different clocks. Recently the islanders have become interested in time.”

“I don’t want a clock,” said Calley.

“You might pick up a lobster on your way over,” said the pedlar. “Listen out for them. Clack, clack, clack.”

“Light the candle for me,” said Calley.

“You have something for me I hope?”

“I have money.”

“Money is good,” said the pedlar, lighting the candle from his own and placing it inside the lantern, shutting the little door. “Though sometimes I prefer items of value I can trade in. You have some trinket on you? A watch? A watch would get you the lantern and candle, a pipe and tobacco.”