The Mystery of Ireland’s Eye: A Dylan Maples Adventure
Penguin Books Canada, 1999Excerpt from Chapter 1
WHEN WE PUSHED OFF from the shores of Random Island the water was calm and friendly. But now, with Ireland’s Eye still a shadow on the horizon, the waves were growing higher by the minute. I clenched my jaws tightly and my hands shook as I dug in with the paddle: I was trying not to think of the dangers that lay ahead. Our kayaks were pointing straight out into the Atlantic.
My mother and father were on either side of me. She was glancing anxiously my way between strokes, searching for any signs of nervousness, and I could see him ploughing forward just off my nose, staring intently at the swells in the water, wondering if this was too much for me. I looked towards our distant destination, my heart pounding. No matter what happens and no matter what they say, I’m not giving up: what lies ahead means too much to me.
But in minutes the waves had grown even more, rising in front of us like foothills, their peaks nearly a metre high.
“Keep paddling,” yelled Dad. “Keep yourself on top of the waves!”
I did as he said and suddenly I was going twice as fast as I had ever gone in a kayak, shooting along on top of the waves like a surfer. In any other circumstance this would have been exciting, but I knew that falling into the icy waters of the ocean might be fatal and that if I couldn’t keep up with the waves, if I got between them, they would pitch me overboard. So I kept paddling, as hard as I could. But then the cross winds started.
Up on top of a wave, gusts whipping across my bow, I felt the kayak move sideways. It made me feel out of control and that isn’t something you ever want to feel on the ocean. Dad had warned me about it.
“If you ever feel a loss of control, Dylan,” he said while we were practising at home, “tell me and we will stop, wherever we are.”
I had to fight to keep myself from shouting for help, from crying out that I would never make it: I was on the verge of absolute panic. The kayak was not only being shot forward by the growing waves but rocking sideways at the same time. Then another frightening thought began making its way into my mind: I was starting to think about how many metres of water were beneath me. Dozens? Hundreds? . . . Thousands?! A weird kind of fear of heights washed over me, adding to my problems. It seemed as though I had just stepped off the top of a skyscraper, countless storeys in the air. There was nothing between me and the dark ocean floor but an ever-shifting mile of liquid. I glanced over at Mom. She was staring at me with a frightened expression on her face.
“Dylan! Are you okay?” came her yell through the wind and spray.
I couldn’t say anything. I turned my face back towards Ireland’s Eye and kept paddling like a zombie, surfing on waves that were over a metre high now, and still growing.
We were well off the coast of Canada, out in the Thoroughfare, a sometimes treacherous stretch of water several kilometres across that lies between the friendly shores of big Random Island and the distant, barren little Eye. Back in another time fishermen and sailors had to navigate through here just to do their jobs, fighting their way around this end of Random to get from its sheltered north channel to its south, or vice versa. Almost no one came this way these days unless they were well equipped with big, motorized boats, safe and powerful. The Thoroughfare is exposed to the winds of the mighty Atlantic, and when you come out of the gentler waters of the channels, it can hit you like a sandstorm. We had known all along that it could be dangerous, but we hadn’t counted on its deceptiveness. The Thoroughfare had fooled us and now it had us in its grip.
In front of us Dad was motioning towards a small island. It was off to his left and had a little cove. We made for it. In five minutes, as we came into the cove’s protection, the waves had lessened a little. We pulled the kayaks together for a conference, bobbing around and banging into each other. Big drops of rain began plopping down on us, and then fell much harder, sounding like mini-machine-gun fire on the fibreglass.
“Are you all right, Dylan?” shouted Dad.
“Yes,” I said, the colour coming back into my face.
“Do you want to go on?” asked Mom.
“Yes.”
She looked at me for a long time. “I don’t think so,” she finally said to Dad. “This is too much for him.... It’s too much for me!”
“I’m afraid we don’t have any choice now,”shouted Dad. ” It’s farther back to Random Island than out to the Eye. We have to make a run for it!”
“But why don’t we just try landing here?”
Dad glanced towards the shore. “We can’t land anywhere here, not with these waves and that rocky shoreline. And if we stay in this cove the swells are soon going to be worse than the waves.”
So we had no choice.
“How far away is Ireland’s Eye?”
“About half an hour in this stuff.”
And so we went forward, back out into the storm, fighting for our lives. Fifteen minutes later, I was worn out but paddling with every ounce of energy I had, riding waves nearly two metres high, when Ireland’s Eye began to show itself. It seemed to come up suddenly in the rain and the wind, like a magical creature hiding itself until you could see the whites of its eyes. Crashing forward I noticed a caribou standing on the shoreline in the wind, staring out at us. There is life after all, I thought, on this mysterious island.
But it was doubtful now if we would ever get near it. The closer we got to our destination the more the storm seemed to rage, as if it were trying to keep us away from the Eye, warning us to leave it be.
A few minutes later, as we struggled along the southern shore, I noticed Dad out of the corner of my eye churning up beside me.
“Don’t look at me!” he yelled. “Keep looking straight ahead! In five minutes, when we get near those rocks to your right, we are going to turn left and head towards the island! That’s where the town was! That’s where we can land! Mom’s going in first, then you, and I’ll bring up the rear!”
I didn’t say anything this time either. My eyes were fixed on each wave as it rose up, and on the bow of my kayak as it lifted out of the water and then crashed down.
Mom darted in front of me and led the way. In a few minutes we began turning and then I could see the entrance to the island! But just as we approached the opening, the storm seemed to turn to gale force. The waves became mountains so high I could no longer see anything, not Mom or Dad, or even Ireland’s Eye. A force that felt like a hurricane picked me up and lifted me high into the air. I twisted sideways, my kayak almost above me, desperately out of control. Then I felt myself going down.
