The Mariner by Ade Grant Read Free Book Online Page B

shore, but to the shallow waters before it. Another boat bobbed silently in the waves. It was smaller than his, anchored closer to the island than the Neptune could ever hope to get. Small, yet its sleek white exterior looked capable of great speed. Once again, the Mariner was reminded that he sailed a crumbling geriatric.
    Other people had found his island.
    The Mariner retrieved a gun, loaded and ready for use. A Mauser; an odd looking boxy weapon with a long thin snout like an echidna’s. He had a crate of them, lined up and protected with straw.
    Grace herself had hopped upon a barrel and was sniffing at the air excitedly, great globs of drool hanging from her jaw at the prospect of land.
    “How about we leave the young’uns here and go for a looksie?” Grace didn’t object.
    He lowered a row-boat. Grace clutched to his shoulder in an ungainly manner whilst he climbed down the rope-ladder, wincing with every step. Each moment of friction between his legs caused pain to rupture out to all four corners of his body. Not a good day to be going up against pirates. Still, no use moaning, there was no-one to listen.
    The white ship seemed quiet, its crew already disembarked and searching for his prize. He rowed past it, keeping a wary eye for gunners, although he couldn’t spot a single cannon.
    Near the shore were six yellow barrels bobbing in the water. As the waves hit them they didn’t shift position, rather they were anchored to the spot, trapped in perpetual surf.
    Elsewhere all was calm, the birds circling the gorge were settling somewhat, their cries a distant warning of intrusion. He rowed as fast as he could, eager to catch up to the interlopers and see they not squander the answers promised to him alone.
    Promised by whom?
He shook his head, dismissing the unwanted query.
    The first of the yellow barrels drew near. He was correct, it was secured in place, anchored to the seabed below, a chain disappearing into the murky depths. The barrel itself was rather nondescript. Its casing was made of thick plastic, with no markings to be seen. The Mariner warily nudged it with his oar. Nothing.
    He rowed on, eager to reach the shoreline. Grace was equally excited, she dashed up and down the short boat, barking at the birds in the sky.
    Suddenly there was a splintering crack, and the boat lurched to a halt. Thrown forward, the Mariner’s legs were pushed together upon his swollen testicles, the dull throb once again promoted to an agonizing wail. He screamed through gritted teeth.
    The front of the boat was coming apart, water pouring in through the gaps as the wood contorted, behaving more like brittle dry twigs than sturdy oak. The Mariner swore and tried to steady the vessel, but it was no use. Something had the boat in its grip and wasn’t letting go. Grace backed away as far as she could, but the water was swiftly flowing over her paws.
    The shoreline was still at a fair distance. Fuck it. They would have to swim. No other choice. Hopefully, whatever creature was attacking them, it would be too preoccupied with chewing the boat.
    Picking up the trembling devil, he told her not to worry. “Just a quick swim, nothing to be concerned about.” He hoped he managed to keep his voice calm and that the small animal would garner some small solace from his tone, but by her trembling he feared the words had been wasted.
    He jumped, plummeting into the waters, head submerged in an instant. Cold seawater rushed into his nose
    And he opened his eyes.
    It was not a beast attacking his boat. The rapidly shrinking remains were being torn to pieces by a great wall of coral, its rough and spiky form shifting as it moved to consume the wooden frame. How did it move? He couldn’t see, great clouds of sand bloomed about each movement, creating an impenetrable shroud, obscuring detail.
    The still parts of the coral reef told the full story. It were made of sunken ships and drowned sailors. Masts jutted from between sea urchins,