The paddle slipped out of the water spreading a chain of sparkling liquid silver droplets cascading into the smooth mirror surface of the sea as it swept forward to plunge once again into the green velvet blanket that stretched between them and the island.
The canoes had been Arthur's suggestion. He had connections at the local kayak club who just happened to have replaced the old fibreglass tubs with modern spun polyethylene boats. There had been a certain amount of work needed to repair the redundant hulks but a few hours with sandpaper, plastic resin and glass fibre matting were enough to revive them to a seaworthy condition. They were an old fashioned design with high rounded decks, which gave plenty of room for legs in front and luggage, expertly stowed in the area behind the cockpit. The repairs were far from pretty, but what the boats lacked in beauty they made up for in buoyancy and ease of handling.
The repairs completed, the three spent their evenings getting used to the boats. Phil and Arthur both had some experience in canoes and Arthur could manage an Eskimo roll. Several sessions in the local swimming bath practising the drills and procedures they would need in the event of a capsize or similar emergency were very useful and by the weekend they were all sufficiently confident to tackle the short sea journey. Even so, the thought of carrying the video and other equipment in waterproof bags in the canoes had been too much for Reuben. At his suggestion they agreed to transport tents, cameras and one or two other essentials, such as Phil's guitar, to the island by motor boat the day before. A friendly coastguard, another of Arthur’s ‘connections’, had duly carried this out.
Conscious that his shoulders were beginning to ache and that the muscles of his lower torso felt increasingly tight, Reuben glanced up at the approaching island. It had seemed like an age since they had left the shore, but in truth it had only been a matter of half an hour or so. For much of that time the island had not appeared to be any nearer even though the beach they had left had all but disappeared into the patchwork of fields surrounding the village. Now he was comforted to see that they were indeed near to the completion of their crossing.
"It's been a good day for it!" he called to Phil.
"Couldn't be better! " Phil glanced back and smiled. He had assumed the lead position, leaving the experienced Arthur to bring up the rear. "Flat as a millpond and not a cloud in the sky. How's the canoe holding out?"
"Fine. A little damp round the ankles, but no leaks as far as I know." The water that had seeped in through the spraydeck was cool and refreshing, battling against the effects of warm weather and exercise.
"Not far now!" Arthur drew up alongside. "There's a small cove just past that headland. We landed the tents there."
Phil dug his paddle in and turned towards the others. "Lead on MacDuff!" he declared cheerfully and the three set off with renewed vigour.
Passing under the shadow of those towering rocks, Reuben found himself wondering how on earth he had been talked into this mad venture. His doubts were interrupted, however, when they passed once more into the light. The bright sunlight lit up the cove both directly and by reflection, so that once again the rocks appeared ensnared by a golden web of shimmering sunbeams that rebounded from the surface of the waters of the tiny inlet.
"There! Do you see them?" Phil had stopped paddling briefly and was pointing towards the shore.
At first Reuben was at a loss to see exactly what he was pointing at but then he saw them. Wings outstretched and basking in the summer warmth the graceful birds stood as if surveying their sea kingdom and acknowledging the arrival of their humble visitors.
One of the cormorants dived cleanly into the clear water, disappearing from view and leaving a neat set of concentric circles radiating from the spot that it had pierced. Reuben noticed other birds in the water, glistening and wet, intent on the business of the moment. He turned his head and smiled back at Phil. There was no need to speak.
"We can get out over there, the rocks are low enough." Arthur was first to pull in alongside the small, natural shelf of flat rock. The canoe floated just below the level of the shelf. Arthur placed his paddle behind him so that it rested half on the back of his canoe and half on the rocks. Expertly he levered himself out of the snugly fitting cockpit, transferring his weight carefully onto terra firma and stretching his aching limbs.
As soon as Arthur's canoe had been pulled up out of the way Reuben brought his own craft alongside the natural jetty. Remembering the many times he had practised this at the pool he too placed the paddle behind him in a bridging position twixt boat and bank. The level of the rocks was slightly higher than that of the edge of the swimming bath and for one horrible moment Reuben felt his stability become deeply threatened to the extent that he almost lost his grip. With a Herculean effort he righted the tilted boat and scrambled onto the rocks. Phil followed without incident and before long the three canoes lay neatly stacked out of reach of wind and waves as their owners did their best to set up camp.
They arranged the tents, four in all, in a square with the entrances facing into a quadrangle. In the centre of the camp Reuben carefully cut away a block of turf and laid out a wood fire ready to be lit in the evening. The fourth tent was to house the stores, although Arthur insisted on keeping the video equipment with him and, of course Phil's guitar would not be parted for long from its owner.
"There's still the best part of the day left." Arthur declared, as they relaxed after their exertions. "Let's have a look at the place."
Reuben couldn't help feeling that just now lying in the sun seemed a very attractive idea. A spirit of adventure soon overtook his sloth, however, and he joined the others in their ascent of the hill, which was roughly at the centre of the island. Once at the summit they sat down to take in the view.
Looking back across the silvery sea they could see the mainland stretching out across the horizon. At its nearest point it felt as if they might easily have swum the distance in a few minutes, but the appearance was deceptive. Casting their eyes down the hillside they had just climbed they noticed that the waves thrown up by the freshening breeze were beginning to break, highlighting the shoreline in a ring of white foam. They spotted the small inlet, which had served as a natural harbour and looked down on the rocks, which had towered above them as they had rounded the headland.
Looking to the other side of the island the sea stretched out to meet the sky. The coast on this side was less rocky and the ebbing tide was already unveiling a widening ribbon of yellow sand. Inland from the beach the ground was overgrown with long grass and brambles in the midst of which could be seen the remains of an old stone built cottage. This alone bore witness to the presence of what had once been a human influence on a landscape now reclaimed by the forces of nature.
"Did someone actually live here then?" Reuben asked incredulously.
"Apparently so, but not for many years by the look of the place." Arthur was adjusting the focus of his camera, considering the angles and form of the ruin.
"What a lonely place. Ideal for a recluse don't you think? Out of sight of the mainland, but near enough to pay the odd visit to civilization should the need arise. I wouldn't choose to live here myself, but there's many who would jump at the chance." Phil pointed at a small clump of shrubs a few yards up from the house. " I think there's a well somewhere there. You can see the old path that leads to it. If it is still in order it might be quite useful to us."