The next morning the three trouped off to the tunnels — remains of old mine workings Qhawana said. ‘We come here during bad storms.’

‘And from the blackbirders?’

Qhawana ignored him and led the way through the cave. ‘But there is nothing here.’

‘We were here before. Right Maggs?’

‘But not this way. Off to the right.’

Qhawana stopped and turned back. Enough light came from the entrance to see the stone wall set with the metal bound door. Peter pulled on it.

‘You did not know about this door?’ Maggie said as it swung free.

Qhawana said nothing as he remained just inside the threshold.

‘So Berg may have hidden things here?’ said Peter.

‘Perhaps,’ said Qhawana. He seemed thoughtful.

‘Do you have one of those lights?’ asked Peter.

‘One of what?’ Qhawana turned to him.

‘The glowing ball things?’

‘What do you mean?’ Qhawana stared now.

‘Berg had light globe thing. He charged it up and…’ Maggie stopped.

‘Bamrushi had naloqiro - a globeglow? Show me!’

‘You didn’t know he had a glowglobe?’

In answer Qhawana pulled a box from his pocket, and an unlit candle. By blowing on the box he made the ember within glow bright until he could light the candle from the now bright spark.

‘Old school. Berg’s was way better,’ said Peter. Maggie poked him. ‘Well it was.’

They stepped through the door.

’Berg had secrets from him,’ said Peter to Maggie in a whisper.

The stuffy workroom appeared to be the one they had been in before. Cushions lay piled on the floor near a low table stacked with papers. Boxes lay against one wall, while shelving overflowed with strange and unfamiliar objects. The shifting shadows from Qhawana’s candle made searching by more than one person at a time difficult so they followed the old man has he stepped about to check the selection of objects and muttered.

Even close by they could not hear his words, but they got a sense of the old man’s anger, or disappointment. It figured though. If Berg was a prisoner — how had he managed to keep such things secret?

Peter scanned the shelves that held stacks of rolled up documents, as well as books. Strange books. Instead of a binding the pages were folded up between two boards, a string kept them together. The pages folded in a zigzag so that you could open it up and read many pages at once, or flip the folds over like a book. Then he realized you’d need to flip the book to read the other side. The text was impossible to read - handwritten swirls and swooshes. No letters that he recognized.

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‘Don’t they have printing?’ said Maggie.

‘Maybe. Look at this.’ Peter pulled out a sort-of regular book from a shelf. It would not have been out of place in the school library, except it was bound in something like scaly reptile leather.

Peter opened the book and flipped to a page at random. ‘For sure this is printed.’

‘Yes. I think the folded books are handwritten. They would be a nightmare to print.’

‘Makes sense. Have you seen anything like this though?’

The closely printed pages had no Latin characters, a little like Greek, or perhaps the strange backwards letters of Russian Cyrillic, but still made no sense.

‘Almost something we could read.’

Qhawana took a sharp intake of breath and took the book from their hands. ‘Impossible. This rarest of treasures… here?’

‘You didn’t know this place?’ said Maggie.

‘Nor of the things within. This rare book…’ Qhawana fell silent.

‘But no chart?’ said Peter. ’Where’s our map out of here.’

‘Look there,’ Qhawana pointed.

Inside a chest lay rolls of paper, and the sorts of things a navigator might keep. Instruments, and rulers — other things they did not know. Perhaps some angle measuring devices.

‘A captain’s chest?’ said Maggie.

‘This is it. Must be.’

The wavering light of the flame made it hard to see. Qhawana still stared at the bookshelf as if he expected to see more rarities. So the two stacked up the papers in their arms and made their way out into the tunnel, then stumbled along the cave, into the light of day. Breeze swung down from a tree.

‘Doesn’t like dark places I guess,’ said Maggie.

Peter sat on a rock. Together they went through the charts and documents.

‘I can’t read a thing,’ said Peter. ‘But… it’s obvious isn’t it? These are sea charts. Islands, and sea… rocks.’

‘But of where?’ Maggie said.

‘We’ll have to ask Qhawana… if we can get him out of that room.’

‘It’s a shame that the magic doesn’t allow us to read,’ said Maggie.

‘I think it’s something to do with… it sounds mad… but reading minds somehow.’

‘Except you need to be speaking… to hear it too,’ said Maggie.

‘Though with Berg I could almost read his facial expression… even if that sounds crazy,’ said Peter

‘And you think the manisaurs communicate with those color flashes around their eyes?’ Maggie said.

‘Makes more sense than mind reading somehow.’

‘I know. We’ll have to get Qhawana to translate this for us,’ Maggie said.

‘May as well be a secret code.’

‘You need to learn morse code. It would be so useful. Especially if manisaurs communicate with flashing colors on their face…’

‘Dit dit dit dah dah dah dit dit dit…’ Peter’s voice echoed in the room. ‘See. I know morse code.’

’SOS, yes.’ Maggie’s voice betrayed her impatience. ‘But do you know enough for us to send messages?’

‘I guess that would be handy.’ Peter gave in to her persistence.

‘Tonight, I’ll teach you.’

Peter was glad she could not see his eye-roll. But he had to admit that to communicate in secret — like the manisaurs — without a sound — that would be cool.

‘If we have a map it’s even more important to get that outrigger working,’ Peter said. ‘How bad would it be to know where to go to but still not be able to get there?’

That afternoon the sailing did not go well. After his initial enthusiasm, the tri-hulled outrigger remained too difficult to sail with more than one person.

Breeze leapt about the outrigger to stop the lean of the hull. But Maggie never found the right position. Her weight pushed the outrigger low in the water, and when the wind tipped the hull, water came over the side.

‘You will never manage.’ Maggie said. ‘And if you need Qhawana as well… to navigate…’

‘He said he’s no navigator.’

‘We still need him…’ Maggie’s voice trailed away uncertain.

‘It’s okay when it doesn’t lean so much.’

‘But to get there the boat would need to carry food, and water, and…’ Maggie sighed. ‘Why not just paddle the canoe?’

‘Maybe. But…’ Peter could not put the feeling into words at first. ‘I trust sailing. Paddling scares me — too much work for too long. Sailing is the right way.’

‘But the outrigger was not designed…’

‘There are lots of sailing outriggers. Pasifika peoples sail them.’

‘Face it Peter,’ Maggie said. ‘This is not going to work.’

He nodded. ‘I guess I need to take the mast down. Do some more on it.’

‘That’s enough. For today at least,’ said Maggie.

If he did not get the outrigger working they would be stuck here forever.