She was taken aback by his tone. ‘Why, your daughter is beside you. The doctor, Doctor Gideon, sits at the bench. There is Peacock, Tarenorerer, who was aboard your vessel, Meetoneyernanner, who is married to Tucker. Two children who belong to them, girl and a boy. And I am here. If you got a problem, old man, you must speak to me.’

‘Where are the men?’

‘Burying the lad.’

‘Summon them, immediately. Must be men in the room. And send those children out.’

The children darted forward and broke some of the smaller legs from the crayfish, enduring the slapping hands of their mothers, then they bolted for the door. The doctor began to stand. ‘Well, perhaps I may assist by fet—’

‘Not you! You will remain where you are.’

I was watching the doctor closely. I knew his face well enough by now: he was calculating. But for the time being his obliging smile remained. An excruciating ten minutes ensued, during which the children ran to find the men and the rest of us stood about in that room, not speaking. One of the women came forward with a flensing knife and stabbed it into the belly of the crayfish, then ripped it down along the length of the tail so that it opened into two halves. It made a pleasant cracking sound as she pulled it open. Steam and a fishy smell issued from it.

My sightless father was spared most of the awkwardness as we waited: he did not have to make eye contact with anyone. But I watched the doctor’s face. The irrelevant thought came to me with a shudder. If he was twenty-five or thirty when he had attacked my father then, like him, he would be sixty now. He still did not look it. Then I thought: why, if he had been here before, if he had somehow orchestrated the wreck, as my father clearly believed—why had the islanders not recognised him at once?

One by one the men entered, sandy dirt on their boots and hands. Some looked annoyed at having been brought back, others merely puzzled. Some of them eyed the lobster: a couple came forward and pulled a leg from it.

My father waited until they had all filed in, filling the small space of the scullery then overflowing into the larger room beyond its door. Some took chairs; the late arrivals remained standing. Eventually the crowd fell still.

‘Thank you for coming back,’ said my father. ‘I will not delay you long. Eliza, would you indicate your presence, please?’

I spoke my name, and in doing it arraigned myself.

‘And Doctor Gideon? Where are you?’

‘I am here.’