The Legend of the Corrib King by Tom McCaughren

happened.’
    Between them they told him about the conversation they had overheard and their visit to the island.
    When they had finished Martin asked, ‘And what possessed you to go to Illaun na Shee in the middle of the night?’
    â€˜Well, first of all,’ replied Róisín, ‘we thought maybe the second part of the poem was the clue to where Pakie was being held. You know, the bit about fairies and witches.’
    â€˜And he had already sent us a puzzle about fairies on the island,’ added Rachel.
    â€˜Then the two men were talking about a prisoner and an island,’ said Cowlick.
    â€˜And about the little people,’ said Jamesie. ‘And then we saw the fairy ring on Illaun na Shee.’
    â€˜And who said it was a fairy ring?’ asked Martin sternly. Jamesie lowered his head and Martin added, ‘All right, no need to tell me. I can guess.’
    â€˜You can say what you like,’ said Tapser, ‘but we were right. There were poachers on the island.’
    â€˜All right,’ said Martin, nodding his head. ‘We’ll go over and have a look.’
    They put out the fire with the water that was left in the kettle, and made their way down to the boathouse.
    â€˜How did you know where to find us?’ asked Cowlick.
    â€˜Oh, it wasn’t difficult,’ Martin told him, and with a glance at Jamesie added, ‘I guessed you wouldn’t be far away from Uncle Pakie’s place.’
    Martin rowed across this time, and a short while later they were peering out of the bushes at the fairy thorn on Illaun na Shee. They could see the ring of trampled grass clearly, but of the children there was no sign. Or of the poachers. The beach below the slope was also deserted, but there were plenty of signs of recent occupation.
    Outside a small cave they found the remains of a campfire. Martin felt it and said, ‘The ashes are still warm.’
    â€˜And here’s a piece of net,’ said Tapser who had gone into the cave.
    Martin examined it and muttered, ‘Monofilament.’
    â€˜What?’ asked Cowlick.
    â€˜Monofilament,’ Martin repeated. ‘All netting in fresh water is banned, but this is the worst kind.’
    â€˜Why’s that?’ asked Rachel.
    â€˜Because the salmon can’t see it in the water,’ Jamesie explained. ‘It’s deadly. It doesn’t give them a chance.’
    â€˜Being nylon, the water doesn’t soak into it,’ said Martin. ‘So it’s also light and handy. Just the thing for poaching.’
    â€˜There’s no doubt about it then,’ asked Róisín, ‘that the men who chased us were poachers?’
    â€˜No doubt at all,’ said Martin. ‘And you’re lucky they didn’t catch you. They’re making a lot of money out of this game and they don’t like anybody interfering.’
    â€˜I wonder if they were holding Uncle Pakie here?’ asked Jamesie.
    â€˜I don’t see anything to suggest he was kept here,’ replied Martin, ‘but who’s to say? Come on, we’ll have a look around before we go.’
    With Prince’s help they searched the rest of the island, but there was no further sign of the poachers or of their prisoner.
    Back at the campsite beside Pakie’s place, they asked Martin what he thought of the meaning they had read into the poem.
    Martin took it out of his breast pocket and read it over to himself. ‘You could be right.’
    â€˜That’s not what you said when we asked you back at the house,’ Rachel reminded him.
    â€˜Well,’ said Martin, ‘I didn’t want to say too much in front of my mother. She’s worried enough as it is.’
    â€˜What do your superiors think about it?’ asked Róisín.
    â€˜My superiors?’ laughed Martin. ‘Can you imagine me giving a poem to the Super and telling him I thought it was a secret message from my Uncle