“Aye. Will they be back, I wonder?”

D’Averc glanced grimly in the direction in which the beasts had disappeared. He shrugged.

“I suggest we strike inland, saving what we can from the ship,” Hawkmoon said. “How many of us left alive?” He turned enquiringly to the bosun who stood behind D’Averc.

“Most of us, I think, sir. We were lucky. Look.” The bosun pointed beyond the ship to where the major part of the crew was assembling on the shore.

“Send some men back to her before she breaks up,”

Hawkmoon said. “Rig lines to the shore and start getting provisions to dry land.”

“As you say, sir. But what if the monsters return?”

“We’ll have to deal with them when we see them,” Hawkmoon said.

For several hours Hawkmoon watched as everything possible was carried from the ship and piled on the rocks of the island.

“Can the ship be repaired, do you think?” D’Averc asked.

“Maybe. Now that the sea is calm, there’s little chance of her breaking up. But it will take time.” Hawkmoon fingered the dull, black stone in his forehead. “Come, D’Averc, let’s explore inland.”

They began to climb up over the rocks, heading up the slope to the summit of the island. The place seemed completely devoid of life. The best they could hope to find would be pools of fresh water and there might be shellfish on the shore. It was a bleak place. Their hopes of survival, if the ship could not be refloated, seemed very slight, particularly with the prospect of the monsters returning.

They reached the summit at last and paused, breathing heavily from their exertions.

“The other side’s as barren as this,” D’Averc said, gesturing downward. “I wonder …” He broke off and gasped. “By the Eyes of Berezenath! A man!”

Hawkmoon looked in the direction D’Averc indicated.

Sure enough, a figure was strolling along the shore below. As they stared, he looked up and waved cheerfully, gesturing them towards him.

Certain they were suffering hallucinations, the two began slowly to climb down until they were close to the him. He stood there, fists on his hips, feet wide apart, grinning at them. They paused.

The man was dressed in a peculiar and archaic fashion. Over his brawny torso was stretched a jerkin of leather, leaving his arms and chest bare. He wore a woollen bonnet on his mop of red hair and a pheasant’s tailfeather was stuck jauntily into it. His breeks were of

a strange chequered design and he wore battered buckled boots on his feet. Secured over his back by a cord was a gigantic battle-axe, its steel blade streaked with dirt and battered by much use. His face was bony and red and his pale blue eyes were sardonic as he stared at them.