The Legend of the Corrib King by Tom McCaughren Page A

Pakie? A poem that was found in a dead salmon. Sure, I’d be laughed out of the force.’
    â€˜But you do think that’s what it is – a message from Uncle Pakie?’ asked Jamesie.
    â€˜Well I’m not sure,’ said Martin. ‘But I suppose it could be.’
    â€˜Jamesie seems to think he was after a gang of poachers when he disappeared,’ said Tapser.
    â€˜Look,’ said Martin, ‘this is something I haven’t discussed much at home because I don’t want my mother getting upset.’
    â€˜I’d say she has a fair idea,’ said Jamesie.
    â€˜Maybe so, but I think she’d just prefer not to talk about it, that’s all.’
    â€˜We won’t talk about it,’ promised Róisín. ‘We won’t even tell her we’ve had a brush with the poachers.’
    â€˜You can say that again,’ said Cowlick.
    â€˜All right then,’ said Martin, ‘say nothing about last night, or what I’m going to tell you.’
    â€˜You mean you’re not going to even mention it at home?’ asked Jamesie.
    â€˜Didn’t I tell you they’ve enough to worry about. But you must promise to stay away from Illaun na Shee.’
    They promised, and Martin went on, ‘Pakie was close to them all right. You see, he’s been working in cooperation with us for some time to try and catch this gang. They first came to our notice last winter, during the closed season. No fishing is allowed anywhere during the closed season so that the fish can spawn, but fresh salmon were still turning up in some of the big hotels and classy restaurants.’
    â€˜And you think that was two of the poachers we saw at the travellers’ camp?’ asked Cowlick.
    â€˜Probably, but I wouldn’t say they’re travellers. No, this gang have it well organised, and I’d say the two you saw were just using the camp as a handy meeting-place, you know, where they could do their business without attracting attention.’
    â€˜You mean, like organising supplies and things,’ asked Tapser.
    â€˜Something like that … A green van, you said. I don’t suppose you noticed the number by any chance?’
    They shook their heads.
    â€˜Or the make? Ah well, don’t worry, I know the type of van you’re talking about. I’ll get the lads in the patrol cars to check a few of them out.’
    â€˜I didn’t think it would be worthwhile,’ said Róisín. ‘I mean, selling fish like that.’
    â€˜Oh it’s worthwhile all right,’ Martin assured her. ‘It’s not like the old days when Pakie would gaff an odd salmon to feed the family. Wild Irish salmon are a great delicacy now, and there’s big money to be made from them. That’s why the poachers have organised themselves into gangs, and they won’t let anyone stand in their way either, as the fishery people will tell you. Several waterkeepers have been injured trying to stop them, and not only in this part of the country.’
    â€˜But why is it so important to stop them?’ asked Cowlick.
    â€˜Because the salmon must be given a chance to spawn,’ said Jamesie. ‘Otherwise they could be wiped out.’
    â€˜You probably know about the salmon,’ continued Martin. ‘They’re hatched out in a gravelly part of a river.’
    â€˜A redd,’ said Rachel. ‘Like it says in Pakie’s poem.’
    Martin nodded. ‘And when they’re old enough they go to sea. Then, when they’re bigger, they come back to the very same river to spawn. Already this year trawlermen using these monofilament nets – nets maybe up to a mile long – have been catching them on their way back along the coast, and that’s illegal too. That’s why the Naval Service has been clashing with them. You see, only a certain amount of salmon fishing is allowed at sea, and you must be licensed and use the right kind