Storm Singing and other Tangled Tasks by Lari Don Page B

we do it,” said the blue loon by Helen’s right oar. “They’ve all rhymed, they’re free to go.”
    “Just because you gather at least one verse a day, Tangaroa, doesn’t mean you can deny the rest of us our chance,” muttered the boy at the bow. “This girl might know our way home.”
    “Not when we keep changing the rules. They have rhymed. They have the right to pass.” He spoke with clear authority, and the others let go of the boat when he did.
    He nodded to Helen. “Row on, human child. We’ll see you at the feast.”
The blue loons swam off, through the black water, towards the dark island.

Chapter 9
    “What was that about?” Helen’s hands were shaking so much she could hardly hold the oars.
    “Blue loons gathering their precious verses. I’m so sorry I couldn’t defend you, my friends.” Yann’s voice was strained. “I can’t move on this damn boat! But when I find them on land …”
    “How would you find them on land?” Helen began to row slowly. “Aren’t they sea people? With fins or something?”
    “No,” said Yann, “they have legs just like you and me. Just like you anyway. So when I find them where I can move faster than them, they’ll be making up limericks about broken legs and nosebleeds.”
    “Calm down, Yann,” said Lavender. “That was scary, and my dress is ruined, but if you attack them on an island , how will we row home safely?”
    Catesby squawked his agreement.
    “There was not no harm done !” snapped Yann. “I was humiliated, Helen was bullied, Lavender was nearly drowned, and they called you an ugly duckling. I can’t ignore that. I have my reputation to uphold!”
    Helen tried to distract Yann from his plans for revenge. “Why did they want us to make up poetry for them?”
    “Too thick-headed to do it themselves,” muttered Yann.
    “We can ask them at the feast. Politely,” said Lavender.
    “I’m not asking them for anything except an apology.”
    “Be sensible, Yann. If you make a battle out of it, they might make it dangerous for us to travel along the coast to support Rona. If you treat it like a game, just boys fooling around, there will be, as Catesby says, no harm done.”
    Helen remembered the voices threatening to drown them. She didn’t think it had been a game.
    She followed Yann’s bad-tempered directions round the cliffs until they were on the seaward side of the island, invisible from the mainland.
    “Where do we moor the boat?” she panted, her arms and back now really tired.
    “We don’t,” grunted Yann. “We row in.”
    “Row? Into a cave?”
    “Yes, and if the tide is already too high after those blue buffoons delayed us, I’ll have to duck as you row in.”
    “Why are we rowing in? Isn’t it dry inside? Don’t seals need dry land to have their pups …?”
    Yann interrupted her. “Sheila said to take a sharp right at this rock, then we should see the cave.”
    Helen waggled the oars about, trying to make a tight turn, looking behind her at every stroke. She’d only ever steered a boat in open water, and wasn’t sure she could navigate through small spaces.
    Lavender squealed, “You’re splashing me again! You’re as bad as those uncouth loons!”
    Helen didn’t pay any attention to Lavender’s complaints, because once she was round the rock, shecould see a warm glowing arch in the cliff, suggesting hot food and somewhere to rest her tired arms. She pulled the oars with more enthusiasm.
    “Slow down!” called Yann. “We have to go carefully. Sheila says it’s not easy with the tide rising, but humans have steered boats into this cave before. It’s been the seals’ nursery and feasting hall for centuries, except for a few years when smugglers hid their cargo there.”
    Helen rowed cautiously, with Yann calling, “Left, left more, right now.”
    Suddenly they were under the low stone arch, and Yann rocked the boat as he ducked down. Helen twisted round to see the width of the arch, and realised the