Blighted Isle
Eric Eve
adaptive hints built-in hints cover art creeping doom fantasy fog grass island magic male protagonist maritime multiple endings parser play online prompted conversation sailors TADS Xyzzy Awards 2007
Blockade duty in the Bay of Biscay, vile weather, and an unplanned jaunt over the side of the ship into the tossing waves. But instead of drowning, you end up on an island that has no right to be there - and that's just the start of your problems!
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It wasn’t yet clear that the strange sail was a French
warship, but your captain was taking no chances, and so the
Niobe, 38, had set off in hot pursuit. She was carrying all
the sail a frigate safely could in such a storm, but still the strange vessel was maintaining its lead, and it was all the Niobe
could do to keep pace with her. But the weather had been steadily worsening; the storm was becoming a gale, and there was a real danger that the Niobe would lose a spar – or worse – unless she
shortened sail. So you dispatched the midshipman of the watch to seek the captain’s permission to do just that.

And then came the totally unexpected hail from the masthead:

“Land ho! Fine on the starboard bow!”

That was absurd; there shouldn’t have been any land within a dozen leagues.

The deck around you was little more than a mass of shadow and outline in the dark, with the only point of light coming from the binnacle
just in front of you. You were aware of the mizzen mast towering
above you nearby, but as much from the howl of the wind in the rigging as from anything you could see.

The helmsman was standing nearby at the wheel.

You were almost deafened by the howling gale screaming in the rigging and lashing up the waves all round the ship.
You check what you're carrying
You were carrying a telescope.
About yourself
You couldn’t see much of yourself in the dark.

You were carrying a telescope.
You look at the binnacle
The binnacle was basically a small box containing a shaded light to enable you to see the compass.
You examine compass
The compass indicated that you were still sailing a steady sou’-sou’-west.

You were almost deafened by the howling gale screaming in the rigging and lashing up the waves all round the ship.
You look at the telescope
It wasn’t the most elegant instrument – you couldn’t afford
better on
your pay – but it did the job.

The captain came striding out onto the quarterdeck just as the lookout repeated his hail from the mast: “Land ho! Fine on the starboard
bow!”

The captain peered up the mast in evident irritation, then strode over to the binnacle to check the compass. Turning back to you he snapped, “What’s that idiot on about? There should be no land between here
and
Spain!”

“No sir,” you agreed dutifully.

“Well then, Mr Corby, you’d better get up to the mizzen-top with
your
bring’em near and see what this is all about!” the captain
commanded,
throwing a significant glance up the mast.

“Aye aye, sir,” you replied, trying to disguise your reluctance.
You look through the telescope
You raised the telescope to your right eye and scanned the horizon ahead. You could just make out the distant white sail of the ship you were pursuing, but there seemed to be no sign of land.

“I gave you an order, Mr Corby,” the captain snapped. “So up the
mast
with you!”
Up
Even after more than ten years at sea, you had never developed much of a head for heights, especially when it meant fighting your way up the ratlines of a swaying mast in a howling gale; but it seemed like there was nothing for it but to grit your teeth and ascend.

Grasping the ropes and forcing yourself not to look down, you began to climb. A few yards up you paused for breath, and longed just to close your eyes and cling on for dear life until the storm had passed; but you felt the eyes of the captain and half the crew were upon you: it behoved you to play the part of a fearless officer, so on you went.

A little over half-way up, you caught sight of something ahead; but it looked more like a band of fog than a stretch of land. It at once struck you as absurd, not only that a bank of sea-mist should collect here, but even more that it would not be at once shredded by the gale. Overcome by curiosity you took out your telescope, trying to do your best to keep your balance on the rigging while examining the strange sight. It did look like a band of mist. But at the next
moment a sudden gust made the Niobe heel over to starboard,
and in a heart-stopping moment you felt your feet slip free of the lines. For a moment you hung there by a single hand, and then that
too was wrenched free and you fell.

You hit the surface of the sea and carried straight on down. To begin with, you thought that was it, and almost resigned yourself to drown; but then, as your lungs felt ready to burst, your survival instinct took over and you struggled to regain the surface.

The waves all around you look as black as the sky above, and stretch just as far in all directions.

And now, here you are, swimming in the freezing water, with neither ship nor land in sight, and probably only a few minutes left before
you finally do give up and drown.
You remove the clothes
You struggle to remove your clothes before they drag you down, but, being waterlogged, they cling to you peversely and you lack the strength to wrestle with them.
Then remove the clothes
The word “reacquire” is not necessary in this story.

(If this was an accidental misspelling, you can correct it by typing OOPS followed by the corrected word now. Any time the story points
out an unknown word, you can correct a misspelling using OOPS as your next command.)
Pray
You recall some verses of Psalm 106 that seem appropriate to your current situation, so you try praying those. Although this may well
be the only recourse left open to you, it unfortunately fails to have any immediate effect.
Drown
(down)
(You can use the TYPO command to disable the typo-correction feature.)

You’ll probably drown soon enough, but you’re not quite ready to
give
up just yet.
You remove the clothes
You struggle to remove your clothes before they drag you down, but, being waterlogged, they cling to you peversely and you lack the strength to wrestle with them.

You can struggle no more. You start to feel body and mind shutting down. As the waves close over your head you fancy you hear voices and see a distant light – the final fleeting fancies of a dying mind.

And then everything goes blank.

[more]
You sleep with the the fishes
Shingly Cove (lying on the shingly beach)
Some time later you wake up to find yourself lying on a hard shingle beach. From the position of the sun in the sky it must be either
early morning or late evening – almost certainly the former. You
feel
as stiff as a ship’s biscuit and weaker than a limp lettuce leaf, but miraculously, you seem to be alive.

As you regain consciousness, you become aware of the crash of the surf at your feet. It seems you must have been washed ashore – but where? There should have been no land within a dozen leagues or more of where you fell into the sea. Then you remember the lookout’s hail; he must have seen land after all, and this must be it.

Before you can do more than start to wonder whether this land is inhabited, you become aware that you are not alone.

A young woman is standing just by your head, peering down at you with
a look of evident concern.
About yourself
You look a bit bedraggled from your watery misadventure, but otherwise unscathed. But then you’re young and healthy, with a complexion
tanned by years at sea.

You are empty-handed.

“I saw you lying here when I came out of the house just now,” she explains, gesturing vaguely behind her, “so I came straight down to
see if – well, you seem to be alive at any rate, but are you all right?”

(You could say yes or no, or ask her who she is.)
Newsavename
Failed; your computer might be running low on disk space, or you might not have the necessary permissions to write this file.
Y.
Thanks for playing Blighted Isle – hope you’ve enjoyed it!
cheaptads quit with exit status: 0
%
Great, just great. First you oversleep, end up being late for school. Then the whole day sucks so bad you can barely wait until seventh period's over and you're free. Now you've wasted so much time
watching TV that you've gotta rush through your makeup or you won't be ready for tonight before April gets here with her wheels. Mississippi may say you're old enough to drive, but Frank sure doesn't agree.

Man, you can't wait for all this to be over.

You've spent a lot of time in this room, enough that it's really beginning to get on your nerves. You're tired of the stupid posters, you're tired of your stupid bed, you're tired of everything. You just wish it weren't such a hassle to try to change any of it. Besides, if you were going to change anything, you'd start with the clothes in
your closet. To the west, across from your window, is a closed door going out.
You see a flowerdy bag here. Sitting on the vanity is a geode, mascara, eye shadow, pink blush, and foundation.
%
It wasn’t yet clear that the strange sail was a French
warship, but your captain was taking no chances, and so the
Niobe, 38, had set off in hot pursuit. She was carrying all
the sail a frigate safely could in such a storm, but still the strange vessel was maintaining its lead, and it was all the Niobe
could do to keep pace with her. But the weather had been steadily worsening; the storm was becoming a gale, and there was a real danger that the Niobe would lose a spar – or worse – unless she
shortened sail. So you dispatched the midshipman of the watch to seek the captain’s permission to do just that.

And then came the totally unexpected hail from the masthead:

“Land ho! Fine on the starboard bow!”

That was absurd; there shouldn’t have been any land within a dozen leagues.

The deck around you was little more than a mass of shadow and outline in the dark, with the only point of light coming from the binnacle
just in front of you. You were aware of the mizzen mast towering
above you nearby, but as much from the howl of the wind in the rigging as from anything you could see.

The helmsman was standing nearby at the wheel.

You were almost deafened by the howling gale screaming in the rigging and lashing up the waves all round the ship.
Up
You could hardly leave the quarterdeck while you were on watch.
Wait
Time passed...
You examine the helmsman
He was just a faint outline in the dark.
You examine the telescope
It wasn’t the most elegant instrument – you couldn’t afford
better on
your pay – but it did the job.
You look through the telescope
You raised the telescope to your right eye and scanned the horizon ahead. You could just make out the distant white sail of the ship you were pursuing, but there seemed to be no sign of land.
You talk to the helmsman
You knew better than to distract the helmsman with idle chatter in the middle of a gale.

The captain came striding out onto the quarterdeck just as the lookout repeated his hail from the mast: “Land ho! Fine on the starboard
bow!”

The captain peered up the mast in evident irritation, then strode over to the binnacle to check the compass. Turning back to you he snapped, “What’s that idiot on about? There should be no land between here
and
Spain!”

“No sir,” you agreed dutifully.

“Well then, Mr Corby, you’d better get up to the mizzen-top with
your
bring’em near and see what this is all about!” the captain
commanded,
throwing a significant glance up the mast.

“Aye aye, sir,” you replied, trying to disguise your reluctance.
Up
Even after more than ten years at sea, you had never developed much of a head for heights, especially when it meant fighting your way up the ratlines of a swaying mast in a howling gale; but it seemed like there was nothing for it but to grit your teeth and ascend.

Grasping the ropes and forcing yourself not to look down, you began to climb. A few yards up you paused for breath, and longed just to close your eyes and cling on for dear life until the storm had passed; but you felt the eyes of the captain and half the crew were upon you: it behoved you to play the part of a fearless officer, so on you went.

A little over half-way up, you caught sight of something ahead; but it looked more like a band of fog than a stretch of land. It at once struck you as absurd, not only that a bank of sea-mist should collect here, but even more that it would not be at once shredded by the gale. Overcome by curiosity you took out your telescope, trying to do your best to keep your balance on the rigging while examining the strange sight. It did look like a band of mist. But at the next
moment a sudden gust made the Niobe heel over to starboard,
and in a heart-stopping moment you felt your feet slip free of the lines. For a moment you hung there by a single hand, and then that
too was wrenched free and you fell.

You hit the surface of the sea and carried straight on down. To begin with, you thought that was it, and almost resigned yourself to drown; but then, as your lungs felt ready to burst, your survival instinct took over and you struggled to regain the surface.

The waves all around you look as black as the sky above, and stretch just as far in all directions.

And now, here you are, swimming in the freezing water, with neither ship nor land in sight, and probably only a few minutes left before
you finally do give up and drown.
Drink
What do you want to drink?
Sea
You’re doing your best not to – it’s far too salty and you’d
choke on
it.
Up
If only you could sprout wings and fly! But alas, it seems you’ll
all
too soon be dragged in the opposite direction.
Dance
The word “dance” is not necessary in this story.
You jump
> SING

The word “sing” is not necessary in this story.

You can’t; your feet are nowhere near touching bottom.
Sleep
You’ll probably sleep soon enough – forever; but you’re not quite
ready to give up yet.

You can struggle no more. You start to feel body and mind shutting down. As the waves close over your head you fancy you hear voices and see a distant light – the final fleeting fancies of a dying mind.

And then everything goes blank.

Shingly Cove (lying on the shingly beach)
Some time later you wake up to find yourself lying on a hard shingle beach. From the position of the sun in the sky it must be either
early morning or late evening – almost certainly the former. You
feel
as stiff as a ship’s biscuit and weaker than a limp lettuce leaf, but miraculously, you seem to be alive.

As you regain consciousness, you become aware of the crash of the surf at your feet. It seems you must have been washed ashore – but where? There should have been no land within a dozen leagues or more of where you fell into the sea. Then you remember the lookout’s hail; he must have seen land after all, and this must be it.

Before you can do more than start to wonder whether this land is inhabited, you become aware that you are not alone.

A young woman is standing just by your head, peering down at you with
a look of evident concern.
You examine woman
She’s a pretty woman of about twenty, neatly dressed and of slender build, with straight dark brown hair falling about her shoulders.

The young woman is wearing a single ear-ring.

“I saw you lying here when I came out of the house just now,” she explains, gesturing vaguely behind her, “so I came straight down to
see if – well, you seem to be alive at any rate, but are you all right?”

(You could say yes or no, or ask her who she is.)
No
“No, not really. I feel half-drowned,” you grunt.

“You look it,” she agrees. “But who are you? You’re not from
around
here and I – well I don’t mean to seem inquisitive, but it’s not
every
day I find a strange man washed up almost on my doorstep, and what
with – anyway, who are you?”

(You could tell her about yourself, ask where you are, or ask her who she is.)
You ask her who she is
“Who are you?” you want to know.

“I’m Julia Trelawney,” she tells you, “But I asked you a
question: who
are you?”
No
“No – I’m not sure I can,” you groan.

“Here – I’ll help you up,” she offers, grabbing you by the arms
a
little roughly. Between her tugging and your groaning and pushing you somehow manage to rise to your feet.

“Good, right,” she nods, “Let’s go up to the house, then;
it’s not
far.” So saying she walks across the shingly beach to the foot of the stone steps, where she turns and waits for you to follow.
You lie down
(on the shingly beach)
Okay, you’re now lying on the shingly beach.
You whine like a the big baby
The word “whine” is not necessary in this story.
You get us
The word “us” is not necessary in this story.
You get up
Okay, you’re now standing.
You follow her
You follow Julia up the steps.

Most of this sizeable garden is given over to vegetable plots. To the east it comes to an abrupt end overlooking the cove, accessible via a rough flight of stone steps. At its northern end stands a large stone house, from the front of which a gravel path heads off to the west, while along the garden’s southern boundary runs a long wooden fence.

of the house, where she opens the door, then turns back to motion you to follow her inside.
You ask her where we are
“We can talk inside,” she replies.
You examine house
The house has a solid, four-square appearance. It is not particularly attractive, the grim grey stone of which it is constructed doing nothing to enhance its appearance, but it does look reasonably commodious.

“Come inside, Mr Corby,” Julia invites you.
You look at the vegetable
The vegetable plots are a series of neatly laid out rectangles, some covered with protective netting. Together they take up most of the space in the garden.
You examine the stone
Which stone do you mean, the stone steps, the shingly beach, or the house?
You look at the stone steps
The steps lead down to the cove below.

“Are you coming then?” Julia asks.
You go inside
You follow Julia inside.

The parlour is of a good size, but not so big as to forfeit a certain rustic cosiness. The large open fireplace looks as if it could
sustain quite a blaze in winter, though it’s currently unlit. The furniture is plain but functional. The front door is to the south, with other doorways to north and east.

“Come through into the kitchen while I brew you up some hot soup,” Julia offers, waving towards the north.

Julia closes the front door.
You examine the furniture
The main items are some chairs and a table. They all seem to have
been made by a joiner who put solidity a long way ahead of elegance.
You go to the north
You follow Julia into the kitchen.

The kitchen is quite large, and conveys something of the same rustic flavour as the parlour, which lies just to the south. A plain wooden door, painted black, is set in the north wall next to a large wood-burning stove. An even larger wooden table occupies most of the space in the middle of the kitchen, together with a conveniently
placed wooden chair.

Julia walks over to the stove, checks that it’s still burning, and
puts a pan on it. “Take a seat while I heat up this soup for you,”
she tells you.

You sink gratefully into the large wooden chair.
About yourself
You look a bit bedraggled from your watery misadventure, but otherwise unscathed. But then you’re young and healthy, with a complexion
tanned by years at sea.

You are empty-handed.

Julia turns to you and hands you a gold coin, “Here,” she says,
“you’ll need somewhere to stay. I’m afraid we can’t put you up
here,
but the Red Dragon’s a pretty decent inn. Well, it’s the only inn, actually. Anyway, that’ll buy you a few days’ board and lodging
there
till you find your feet.”

When you start to protest, she interrupts firmly, “No, I insist.
It’s
the least I can do for a shipwrecked sailor. Besides, if you feel
that strongly about it, I’m sure the day will come when you’ll be
able
to repay me.”

(You could thank her, or refuse politely.)
Thank her
“Thank you,” you say. “You’re very kind.”

“Yes,” she agrees with a ready smile, “you’ll find it’s the
least of
my failings!”

Julia fiddles with some pans.
You ask her where we are
“Where am I?” you want to know.

“This island is called Valon, if that’s what you mean,” she
replies.

Julia busies herself stirring something in a pan on the stove.
You ask her about the valon
“Just where is this island?” you ask. “It doesn’t show up on
any
charts!”

“It wouldn’t,” she replies mysteriously. “It isn’t that sort
of
place.”

Julia crosses the kitchen to collect a bowl.
You ask her what sort of the place
She looks puzzled by your question.

Julia returns to the stove and pours something into a bowl.
You ask her about the valon
“So what sort of place is Valon?” you inquire.

“It’s not so bad,” she tells you. “At least, it wasn’t till
the
blight came.”

“There you are,” Julia declares, setting a bowl of steaming soup
down
on the table. “That should warm you up!”
You look at coin
The coin is of unfamiliar design, with a dragon on one side and a chalice on the other.
You ask her about Dragon
“That coin you gave me – it’s quite a strange design,” you
remark.
“Where did it come from? There can’t be a mint on the island,
surely?”

“No, there’s no mint on the island,” she agrees.
You ask about the blight
“What is this blight you mentioned?” you want to know.

“We wish we knew,” she sighs. “It started three or four years
back.
We didn’t realize what was happening at first, we thought perhaps it was just a particularly bad winter. Well – whatever it is, it saps
all the vitality out of the soil. We’ve lost nearly half our
farmland
to it, and since we didn’t have all that much land to start with – well, times have become a bit hard.”
You ask Julia about Julia
“Do you live alone?” you ask.

“No, I share this house with my brother. We inherited it from our parents,” she tells you.
You ask Julia about the brother
“Tell me about your brother,” you request.

“His name’s Richard – but everyone calls him Dick,” she
replies.
“He’s a few years older than me, and, well, I suppose you could say
he
looks after me.”
You drink the soup
You slowly and gratefully drink the hot soup, which tastes strongly of the fish it contains. As you finish it, you feel heat course through your body and strength returning to your limbs.

“Thank you very much, that’s just what I needed,” you declare.

“Good,” she replies, removing the empty bowl to add to the pile of washing up.

(If you’d prefer not to be notified about score changes in the
future,
type NOTIFY OFF.)
You ask her about the ship
“Do many ships call here?” you ask.

“None call here,” she tells you. “The occasional one may turn up
by
accident, but then it can never leave.”
Why
“Where is the castle?” you ask.

“Just to the north of town, up the hill to the west,” she replies.
You ask her about the ship
She’s already told you that no ships call here, and that the few that turn up by accident can never leave.
You ask about the soup
“That soup you gave me was just what I needed,” you tell her. “I
feel
much better now.”

“Good!” she says. “You looked in need of reviving!”
You ask her about the island
“How many people live here?” you ask.

“Only a couple of hundred,” she replies. “Every now and again
someone
turns up the way you did, washed ashore from some nautical mishap. Otherwise, we’re a pretty small, closed community.”
You ask her about the currents
In reply, she makes a noise that sounds like “Pshaw!”.
You ask her about the leave
She gives a wry smile, then says, “I think I’d need to think about that.”
You ask her about the ocean
In reply, she mutters something you don’t quite catch.
You ask her about the france
“Do you have any news from France?” you inquire.

“France?” she echoes. “No.”
You ask her about the england
“What do you know of England?” you ask.

“Nothing; it’s just a name to me,” she replies.
You ask her about england
She’s already said that England’s just a name to her.
You ask her about bonaparte
She’s already told you she has no news from France.
You ask about the soil
“Let’s talk about that some other time,” she suggests.
You ask her how one gets away from here
“How does one get away from here?” you ask.

“You don’t,” she replies bluntly.
You ask her how one gets away
“There must be some way to get away from this island!” you insist.
“I
have to rejoin my ship!”

“You can’t,” she tells you. “Did you see that mist, just a
little way
out to sea? Don’t ask to explain why or how, but there’s no way to
get through it.”
You ask her about the mist
“What is that mist I saw out to sea?” you ask. “It
doesn’t
look like it’s shifting at all!”

“That’s right,” she agrees. “It never does, and it surrounds
the
whole island. It’s the barrier that keeps us all in.”
You ask her about the blight
“So what exactly does this blight do?” you ask.

“It turns perfectly good farmland into dusty wasteland,” she
replies.
“Fortunately it seems to have stopped spreading now, but not before
it
shut down one of the island’s only two farms.”
You ask her about the farms
“Is there much farming on the island?” you enquire.

“There used to be two farms, the Pascoes’ and the Fantons’, until
the
blight came,” she tells you. “Now only the Fantons’ is left.”
You ask her about the farms
She’s already told you that there used to be two farms on the island till the blight came, but now there’s only one.
You ask her about Pascoes
“What happened to the Pascoes?” you ask.

“They lost their farm to the blight,” she replies.
You ask about Inn
“Where do I find the Red Dragon Inn?” you ask.

“Just carry straight on west into town till you come to the crossroads,” she tells you. “Then turn left into South Street, and
you can’t miss it.”
Topics
You could ask her about herself, or the blight, or ask her how one
gets away from here.
You ask her about her
“Have you lived here all your life?” you ask.

“Yes, I was born in this very house,” she tells you.
You ask her about her
“So, tell me all about yourself,” you invite.

“Oh, there really isn’t much to tell,” she shrugs. “I’m
really not
that interesting – I’m sure there are far more interesting things
to
talk about.”

(You could ask her about the blight, or ask her how one gets away from here.)
You ask her about yourself
She gives a wry smile, then says, “I think I’d need to think about that.”
You ask her about yourself
In reply, she mutters something you don’t quite catch.
You ask her about the home
“You seem to have quite a large old house,” you remark. “Is it
hard
to maintain?”

“It does take a bit of maintenance,” she replies, “but the labour
and
materials are not too hard to come by.”
You ask her about the blight
“Does no one know the cause of this blight?” you inquire.

“No,” she shakes her head. “It spread from the north, we know
that
much – from the part of the island no one can reach. Some folk blame mad Meg, but I reckon she’s harmless enough.”
You ask her about Meg
“Who is mad Meg?” you ask.

“Some say she’s a witch,” she tells you, “but I wouldn’t go
that far;
she’s a bit odd, that’s all. She lives all by herself out to the
north of town.”
You ask her about witch
“What’s so odd about mad Meg?” you inquire.

“Well – for one thing, living all by herself like that, away from
the
town – I don’t know, she’s just not normal,” Julia
replies,
“and then she doesn’t seem to see things the way the rest of us do.
I
suppose she’s harmless enough, but I couldn’t trust someone like
that.”
Keep going
“Why do some people think mad Meg’s a witch?” you want to know.

“Because she’s so odd. Because she doesn’t mix much. Because
she
does things with plants and herbs,” Julia shrugs. “Some even say
she
has the gift of second sight – not that I know anything about such things. Anyway, she’s really not worth bothering about.”
You ask her about the second sight
“Let’s talk about that some other time,” she suggests.
You ask her about blight
“Has anyone tried to do anything about the blight?” you want to
know.

Julia gives a bitter laugh, “The old Duke tried all
right,”
she tells you. “The silly old fool thought he could go and lead an expedition against it – apparently he’d found some way to get past
the
Ridge. Anyway, off he went with his brother and a band of castle guards, and none of them was ever seen or heard of again. And still the blight didn’t go away. Must be a couple of years back, now.”
Keep going
“So is there any prospect of curing this blight?” you ask.

“None that I know of,” she tells you, adding, “That’s one
reason so
many of the islanders are fishermen!”
Continue
It seems like she’s already told you all she knows: the blight
started
three or four years ago, spreading from the north. It converts farmland into dusty wasteland, and no one seems to know either the cause or the cure. From what Julia says, it’s causing serious difficulties for the island’s food supply.
You ask her about Ridge
“What’s this about a ridge?” you ask.

“It’s a range of hills that divides the island in half,” she
explains.
“There doesn’t seem to be any way through it, over it, or round it,
so
no one knows what lies to the north.”
Continue
“This ridge,” you frown. “Surely it can’t be that
impassable, and even if it were, couldn’t you just sail round it in a boat and land on the other side?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” she replies quickly. “But
there are
strange currents round this island, so it turns out you can’t.”

Your frown deepens. You’ve been a naval officer long enough to know
a
thing or two about strange currents, but you’ve never heard of
currents that are that strange.
Keep going
You can’t think of anything else to ask about it at this point:
you’ve
already established that it’s some kind of barrier preventing access
to the northern part of the island, and that Julia apparently thinks there’s no way over, round, or through it.
You ask her how one gets away from here
“If I had a boat, I’m sure I could get away from here easily
enough!”
you declare.

“Others have said the same; others have tried; they all failed,”
she
sighs. “Maybe that’s what happened to my parents.”
You continue
She’s already made it clear she thinks it’s impossible to get away
from the island; apparently it’s impossible to pass through the mist that surrounds it.
You ask about Duke
“Who exactly was the old Duke?” you want to know.

“The present Duke’s father,” she informs you. “Not a bad man,
and
more intelligent than his son, who really is a fool – no, the old
Duke
was a decent enough ruler for this little island. At least he cared enough to try to do something about the blight, but he obviously
didn’t go about it the right way. As for the present Duke – well,
Duke William has more arrogance than sense, I’d say – but for
goodness’ sake don’t tell him I said that!”
Keep going
“Tell me more about the present Duke; he rules this island?” you
ask.

“That’s right,” she affirms. “No one’s quite sure where the
title
comes from; the family’s Norman, but we all know the real
Duke William ended up ruling rather more than this tiny isle. Between you and me I suspect William’s ancestors awarded themselves the title of Duke when they arrived and took over. But it’s never been worth quibbling about.”
You ask Julia abouthe ear-ring
“Forgive my asking, but is there any particular reason why you’re wearing only one ear-ring?” you ask.

Frowning, she touches one ear and then the other. “Bother!” she declares. “I must have dropped the other one somewhere!”
You ask her about the cats
In reply, she makes a noise that sounds like “Pshaw!”.
You ask her about the parents
“What happened to your parents?” you wonder.

She sighs, wipes her brow, and throws you a soulful look, “They
died,”
she tells you. “Drowned. At least, we suppose so. They went out in their boat together a couple of years back and never returned.”
Go south
(first standing up)
Julia comes with you.

The parlour is of a good size, but not so big as to forfeit a certain rustic cosiness. The large open fireplace looks as if it could
sustain quite a blaze in winter, though it’s currently unlit. The furniture is plain but functional. The front door is to the south, with other doorways to north and east.

Julia is standing here.
You examine the furniture
The main items are some chairs and a table. They all seem to have
been made by a joiner who put solidity a long way ahead of elegance.
You examine the fireplace
It’s currently unlit, but it looks like one could get quite a blaze burning in it.
Bye
“Perhaps I should go now,” you suggest.

“If you must, but there’s no hurry; you’re welcome to stay a bit
longer if you like,” she assures you.
You look in the fireplace
The fireplace doesn’t look worth meddling with.
Go east
You hardly feel you can go wandering round the house uninvited.
You ask her about her hidden chamber of the horrors to the the east
She looks puzzled by your question.
Go south
(first opening the front door)
“Well, bye for now then; no doubt I shall see you again soon,”
Julia
bids you farewell.

Most of this sizeable garden is given over to vegetable plots. To the east it comes to an abrupt end overlooking the cove, accessible via a rough flight of stone steps. At its northern end stands a large stone house, from the front of which a gravel path heads off to the west, while along the garden’s southern boundary runs a long wooden fence.

Julia closes the front door from the other side.
You examine the fence
It’s about five feet high, and made of wood that has long since weathered to a dull grey. Despite the weathering, the fence still looks sturdy enough.
You examine the plots
The vegetable plots are a series of neatly laid out rectangles, some covered with protective netting. Together they take up most of the space in the garden.
You go west
The main path continues to east and west as far as you can see, rising slightly to the latter as it heads inland. A long hedge blocks the
way south, but just at this point of the path a rutted track runs off to the north.
You examine the hedge
The bramble hedge is rather uneven, varying in height between about four feet and six along its length. If it was ever cultivated it has long since turned wild.
You examine the track
The rutted track leads off to the north; it looks a little uneven but seems generally to descend as it goes.
Go west
You set off to the west, and after a brisk walk up the slope you find yourself on the eastern outskirts of the town.

Pressed in between a rough stone wall to the north and a small shop to the south this short, narrow street runs east back towards the coast and west towards the centre of town.

A slender young woman is standing with her back to the shop door, desperately trying to beat off a ruffian who seems bent on robbing
her.

“Hand over yer purse, you silly bitch, and I might just decide not to bruise that pretty face of yours,” the ruffian declares.
Attack ruffian
You may still be a bit weakened from your watery ordeal, but the ruffian looks half-starved, while you’ve been toughened by ten years
at sea fighting the French. He hardly manages to land a single blow
on you, while you soon give him a thrashing. After no more than a minute of it he runs away muttering curses under his breath.

“Thank you!” the young woman declares as you turn back to check how
she is. “He was proving – quite troublesome. I never thought even Cadan Pascoe would stoop to attacking me! But I don’t believe I know you; perhaps you should introduce yourself?”

(You could tell her about yourself, or ask her how she is.)
Topics
You could ask her about Sally Penhaligon, the castle, or the ruffian, or say that she’s beautiful.
You tell her she's beautiful
“You’re very beautiful,” you remark.

“So people say,” she replies drily.
You continue
“You are very beautiful, my lady,” you insist.

“So you have already said,” she points out unenthusiastically.
You continue
Your compliments don’t seem to be making much of an impression, so perhaps you should give them a rest for now.
You ask her about the ruffian
“Who was that fellow who attacked you? Do you know him?” you ask.

“Yes, I know him,” she replies. “He’s Samuel Pascoe’s son,
Cadan.
They lost their farm to the blight, so I suppose I should feel sorry for him in a way.”
You ask her about Pascoe
“Why should young Pascoe blame you for the blight?” you inquire.

“I don’t think it’s a matter of blame, lieutenant,” she
answers.
“It’s more desperation and envy.”
You ask her about herself
“So, is there anything else you can tell me about yourself, my
lady,”
you ask.

“What is there to tell?” she sighs. “I am Lady Inalda de Valon,
first
cousin to the Duke of Valon. I was born in the castle and live there still. I have never been off this island – in truth my life has been very limited.”
You ask her about the island
“What’s this island like?” you ask.

“I know of no other place to compare it with,” she points out.
You tell her about the england
“Do you know anything of England?” you ask.

“Only that it’s where most of this island’s inhabitants
originally
came from,” she replies.
You tell her about the england
She’s already told you that the only thing she knows about England is that it’s where most of the island’s inhabitants originally came
from.
You ask her about the france
“Have you heard what’s happening in France, my lady?” you ask.

“Very little,” she replies. “Is there another war there? There
always seems to be wars! But though my ancestors originally came from France, we have been cut off from it for generations.”
You ask her about the castle
“Where is the castle?” you ask.

“Just to the north of town, up the hill to the west,” she replies.
You ask her about Duke
“So, what sort of man is the Duke?” you inquire.

“He’s my cousin; we grew up together. And now he rules Valon,”
she
replies with a little shrug, adding, “I would hardly say more to a stranger, however gallant!”
You ask her about the coin
“Could we talk about...” you start to suggest.

“I’m sure we could – but let’s talk about it some other time, lieutenant,” she replies.
You ask her about Meg
“What do you think of the woman they call mad Meg?” you ask.

“I scarcely know her;” she replies, “our paths seldom cross. She
has
the reputation of being quite strange, and some people say worse
things about her than that, but I know nothing against her at first hand, beyond the fact that she lives by herself and never comes into town.”
You ask her about Julia
“What do you think of Julia Trelawney?” you ask.

“I think that if relations between our families were better I might come to like her,” she replies. “Of all the people on the island,
she
is the best placed to be a friend; and yet as things stand I hardly know her.”
You ask her about Dick
“What can you tell me about Dick Trelawney, my lady?” you ask.

“He is one of the most important people on the island, next to my cousin,” she tells you. “That is to say that the Trelawneys are
the
wealthiest and most influential family here apart from the de Valons. But I cannot say relations between my cousin and Mr Trelawney are particularly cordial.”
You ask her about the relations
“What do think about time?” you ask.

“It would take too long to answer that now, lieutenant,” she
replies.
“Some other time, when we have more leisure, perhaps.”
Topics
You could ask her about Sally Penhaligon, or the ruffian.
You ask her about Dick
“Why did you say that relations between the Duke and Dick Trelawney aren’t all that good?” you ask.

She hesitates a moment or two before replying, “I think perhaps it because they see themselves as rival sources of authority on the island, with very different ideas on how authority should be
exercised. At least I know my cousin feels that Mr Trelawney does not respect his authority, and that is something my cousin resents.”
You ask her about the authority
“Now, what about...” you begin.

“Later, lieutenant,” she interrupts you. “I’m a bit
preoccupied right
now.”
You ask her about the ruffian
“Will young Pascoe attack you again, do you think?” you ask.

“I think you succeeded in frightening him off for now, lieutenant,”
she replies with a faint smile.
You continue
“What will happen to that fellow who attacked you?” you want to
know.

“I shall report the matter to my cousin, who will send one of his men to deal with him,” she replies, a little wearily. After a brief
pause
she adds, “I shall try to persuade the Duke to be lenient – after
all,
no great harm was done.”
You ask her about reward
“Can you tell me about...” you begin.

“Wait! What was that?” She asks, cocking her head to one side.
Then,
after a moment, she continues, “Sorry, I thought I heard
something.”
You ask her about Sally
“Who is Sally Penhaligon?” you ask.

“She’s the woman who runs this shop,” she replies. “It’s the
only
store on the island. Her husband’s a fisherman.”
Keep going
She’s already told you: Sally Penhaligon runs the shop and her
husband
is a fisherman.
You ask her about the husband
“I was meaning to ask you about...” you begin, but you tail off
when
you notice that her attention is momentarily elsewhere.
Topics
You could ask her about Cadan Pascoe.
You ask about the blight
“What is the blight, exactly?” you enquire.

“Exactly what it is we do not know.” she replies. “If
we did
we might have a better chance of finding some way to counter it.”
You ask her about Pascoe
“If you’re worried that the Duke may be too hard on young Pascoe,
why
report the matter to him?” you wonder.

“Law and order must be maintained,” she tells you, “or we shall
all
descend into chaos.”
You tell her about the fascism
Lady Inalda listens politely to your account.
You ask her about Inn
“What can you tell me about the Red Dragon, my Lady?” you ask.

“It’s a decently-run establishment from what I gather,” she
replies.
“As to the quality of the meals and lodgings I couldn’t say, as
I’ve
never been a patron.”
Go south
(first trying to open the shop door)
The shop door seems to be locked.

Lady Inalda glances at the shop in some annoyance, then turns back to you, “Sally Penhaligon really should have opened up her shop by
now,”
she sighs. “Perhaps she’s idling away in the Red Dragon again! Lieutenant, I hate to impose on you further, but if you were to go to the Red Dragon and see Mrs Penhaligon there, perhaps you would be so good as to tell her she has a customer waiting. Could you do that for me, do you think?”

(You could say you’ll go, or ask her about Sally Penhaligon.)
You ask her about Sally
“How will I know Sally Penhaligon when I see her?” you ask.

“About thirty, blonde hair chopped off at the chin,” she replies.
“So, will you go and find her for me?”
You say we'LL go
“As fascinating as it would be to chat with you all day, lieutenant,
I
really would like to complete my errand,” she replies. “To which
end,
it would be most helpful if you could try to find Mrs Penhaligon for me. Will you do that, please?”
You say yes
“Yes, I’m sure I can do that for you.” you offer. “I was just
going
there anyway.”

“Thank you, lieutenant,” she replies. “That would be most
helpful. I
should also be most grateful if you could make it sooner rather than later.”
Bye
“Well, goodbye then, my lady,” you say.

“Au revoir, lieutenant,” she replies. “You must come up to the
castle
soon; I am sure the Duke would be interested to meet you.”
You go west
This crossroads, at what may be the centre of the town, is formed by meeting of roads to north, south, east and west. All four roads lead between grim, grey buildings; the road to the east looks quite short, while that to the west leads up a distant hill. The roads to north
and south look as if they run on quite a way, but just a short way to the south you can see a hanging inn-sign.
You shouthe anti-french insults at Inalda
The word “anti-french” is not necessary in this story.
You look at sign
It’s a little difficult to make out from here, being faded red on
faded black, but it could easily be depicting a red dragon.
You examine the buildings
On the northeast corner stands an ancient chapel, while one the opposite corner is the inn. Many of the other buildings look like cottages.

A pair of children run past and disappear into one of the cottages.
You examine the chapel
From here you see one corner of the rather ugly, though undoubtedly ancient, little chapel, built from undressed rough stone.

A boy of about ten enters the crossroads, takes one look at you, then runs back up West Street in apparent fright at seeing a stranger.
You go to the south
The west side of this long, grubby street is dominated by the Red Dragon Inn, while on the opposite side squats a row of bleak stone cottages. The street continues to north and south over well-worn cobbles.
You examine the cottages
They’re not exactly hovels, but they’re all quite small, and at
least
from the outside the grey stone of which they’re constructed gives
them a uniformly bleak appearance.
You examine the cobbles
The cobbles are worn smooth in some places, cracked in others, and dirty everywhere.

A pair of plain middle-aged women dressed in shawls walk briskly down the street.
You get the cobble
The cobbles don’t look worth meddling with.

An old woman emerges from one of the cottages and shuffles off to the north.
You examine Inn
The tavern is a large two-story building, rather better constructed than the cottages opposite. The sign hanging over its entrance
clearly marks the inn as the Red Dragon.
Go west
The main room of the tavern seems cosy enough, and cleaner than quite
a few you’ve seen. There are several tables and chairs scattered about, while the bar counter runs close to the west wall, in front of
a door marked “Private”. The way out is to the east and a flight
of
stairs leads up to the floor above.

On the bar counter is a jug of red wine.

A blonde woman is deep in conversation with a buxom redhead who is standing behind the bar.

A group of fishermen are sitting eating and drinking in the corner.

The two women at the bar appear to be exchanging gossip. The buxom redhead says something about a hidden sword, but you wonder if it’s some kind of double entendre.
You look at blond
(x blonde)
(You can use the TYPO command to disable the typo-correction feature.)

She’s perhaps about thirty years old, with a round face that’s
starting to lose its youthful prettiness, and curly blonde hair worn quite short – only down to her chin.

The buxom redhead whispers something that makes a blonde woman laugh.
You examine blonde
She’s perhaps about thirty years old, with a round face that’s
starting to lose its youthful prettiness, and curly blonde hair worn quite short – only down to her chin.

The conversation in the corner becomes momentarily louder as the fishermen get into an argument.

The two women carry on gossiping together.
You talk to Sally
“Excuse me, would you be Sally Penhaligon by any chance?” you ask.

“That’s right,” she replies. “Why?”

(You could tell her about Inalda, or yourself, or ask her about her shop, or the castle.)
You tell her about Inalda
“You have a customer waiting outside your shop – Lady Inalda. She asked me to let you know,” you tell her.

“Lady Inalda! Goodness!” she declares. “Well, I’d better not
keep
her ladyship waiting, had I?”

Turning to the buxom redhead she says, “’Bye then, I’ll see you
later.” Sally Penhaligon leaves to the east.
You ask redhead about the sword
“Hello, there,” you say.

“Hello, stranger!” she replies with a grin.

“What was that you were saying to Sally Penhaligon about a hidden sword?” you ask.

“Oh nothing, just an old legend,” she replies dismissively. You
sense
she is none too pleased that you were eavesdropping on her conversation.
Continue
You’ve already gathered that she’s not that anxious to talk about
it.
You ask her about Sally
“Do you know Sally Penhaligon well?” you ask.

“Oh yes, we grew up together, and we’re firm friends,” she
replies.
You keep going
She’s already told you that Sally Penhaligon and she grew up together and are firm friends.
You ask her about her
“I’m afraid I don’t know your name,” you say.

“It’s Betty, love – just plain Betty.” she tells you.
“Although maybe
you don’t find me too plain,” she adds hopefully.

Two of the fishermen stand up and leave.
You examine Betty
She strikes you as being the sort of woman for whom the adjective “buxom” was invented. Her rosy face is framed with a mass of long
red
curls.
You ask her about yourself
In reply, Betty merely shrugs.
You ask Betty about snogging
“Betty, can you tell me about...” you begin.

“Hang on a minute, love,” she interrupts you, “I think one of
those
fishermen wants something.”
You ask her about Meg
“What do you know about Meg – the one they call mad Meg?” you
ask.

“I haven’t come across her much,” she replies. “She never
comes into
town and I spend most of my time in here. I’ve heard what people say about her – but that’s just gossip.”
You ask Betty about Julia
“What do you think of the Trelawneys?” you ask.

“I’ve always got on with them very well,” she replies.
You ask Betty about Inalda
“What do you make of Lady Inalda?” you ask.

“She’s all right,” she replies. “Some people think she’s a
bit snooty
because she’s the Duke’s cousin and lives up in the castle, but
it’s
her cousin that’s the snooty one, not her. Why, do you fancy her?”
No
“No, I was just curious, that’s all,” you reply, trying not to
blush.

“When a handsome young man expresses ‘curiosity’ about an
exceptionally beautiful young lady –” she remarks. “Well,
‘faint
heart never won fair lady’ is what I say.”
You ask her for the wine
“What’s in that jug?” you ask.

“Just some elderberry wine,” she tells you. “We have to do with
what
we can make here.”
You ask her about Pascoe
“What do you know about the Pascoes?” you ask her.

“They lost their farm to the blight.” she tells you. “It was a terrible blow to them, and to the whole island; but the Trelawneys
have been very good to them.”

One of the fishermen proposes a toast and the rest join in.
You ask her about the room
“Do you have any rooms?” you ask.

“Certainly, love,” she replies. “Just let me see your money, and
I’ll
give you the key.”
Topics
You could ask her about herself, the castle, Duke William, or Meg.
You ask her about her
“Have you lived on this island all your life, Betty?” you ask her.

“That’s right, I was born here,” she tells you, “as were my
parents,
and their parents, and... well, however far back it goes.”

There’s a momentary lull in the fishermen’s conversation. Then
they
all start talking at once.
You ask her about her
“Do you own the Red Dragon?” you inquire.

“Me? Own the Red Dragon?” she laughs. “Goodness no, I ain’t
grand
enough for that, love; I just work here. It’s the Trelawneys that
own
the place.”

The fishermen burst into laughter at some arcane fishermen’s joke.
You show the coin to Betty
“I’d like a room, please; will this do?” you ask, handing her the
coin.

“It’ll do nicely, love,” she replies, taking the coin and turning
it
over carefully in her palm. “That’ll buy you full board and
lodging
for a week – anything you want by way of food and drink, just ask.
If
you want your bed warming for you, that’ll cost extra,” she adds
with
a wink. Reaching behind the bar she takes out a key and hands it to you, “Here you are, love; Room 2 – you’ll find it just
upstairs.”

There’s a sudden crescendo in the conversation from the corner.
Wink
The word “wink” is not necessary in this story.
You tell her she's beautiful
Betty does not respond.

A pretty young woman pops her head in through the door to glance over at the group of men in the corner. Apparently not finding whoever she was looking for she goes away again.
You ask her about William
“What do you think of the Duke, Betty – or shouldn’t I ask?”
you
enquire.

“Ask if you like,” she shrugs. “At least he leaves me alone. To
tell
the truth, I don’t really know what he’s for. I know
I’m
only a simple barmaid who’s not meant to understand these things, but there’s what – a couple of hundred of us on the island – and
there’s
this bloke up in his great big castle calling himself a duke and telling us all what we can and can’t do.”
You ask her about the revolution
“Betty, perhaps you can help me,” you start to ask, “I was just wondering about...”

“Sorry, I just remembered something I had to do,” she interrupts.
She
darts into the back room and comes back a few moments later. “Sorry, you were saying...”
You ask her about Duke
“Doesn’t someone have to keep order?” you ask. “Isn’t that
what the
Duke’s for?”

“I’m sure that’s just what he’d say,” she concurs, “but
there ain’t
that much happening here that needs ordering, and I daresay what there is we could manage to order ourselves without the help of some high-and-mighty duke. Still, I’m only a barmaid, so don’t pay any attention to what I say.”
You ask her about Meg
“What do people say about Meg?” you want to know.

“Well,” she hesitates, “there are some who say she’s a witch,
but I’ve
never heard anyone say she’s ever actually harmed anyone, except old Jenny Pascoe and her son Cad, that is.”

(You could ask her what Jenny Pascoe says Meg did.)
You ask her why she is so self-deprecating
“Can you tell me anything about...?” you begin.

“Whoops! I nearly dropped that glass!” she interrupts.

One of men in the corner tries to catch Betty’s eye.
You ask her what Jenny Pascoe says meg did
You ask your question. In reply she says, “It would take too long to answer that now, love – maybe some other time.”
You ask her about Meg
She’s already told you that she’s hardly ever come across Meg since their paths virtually never cross, so all she can do is to repeat hearsay. That hearsay includes some accusations of witchcraft, but only Jenny Pascoe and her son Cad have ever said that Meg has actually ever harmed anyone.

The fishermen listen intently as one of them tells a funny story.
You ask her about Jenny
She’s already told you that the Pascoes lost their farm to the
blight,
but that the Trelawneys had been very good to them.
You ask her about Cad
“Do you know Cadan Pascoe?” you ask.

“I know most people around here, love,” she replies, “but young
Cad,
now – well there’s a hard case: he drinks too much, and his temper
gets even worse when he’s drunk – it’s bad enough when he’s
sober if
you ask me.”
Topics
You could ask her about herself, the castle, or Duke William.
You ask Betty about Betty
“Do you enjoy your work?” you ask.

“Yes, I do – I get to meet all sorts of interesting people,” she replies, giving you a sly look, “and there’s always the chance of earning a bit on the side – in such a comfy way, too!”
You drink the wine
(first taking the jug of red wine)
“Here, let me pour you a glass,” Betty offers. She takes a glass
from
behind the bar, fills it with the wine and offers it to you. It
tastes even sweeter than it looks, but it’s not unpleasant, so you
soon drink it all. When you hand the glass back to Betty she puts it back behind the bar.
You ask Betty about William
“Do I take it that you’re not all that impressed by Duke
William?” you
enquire.

“The only thing that impresses me about him is his conviction of self-importance,” she shrugs. “According to my grandpa our noble Duke’s ancestors were just a bunch of plundering mercenaries who came here from France by mistake. My grandpa says they were meant to be following the real Duke William to somewhere called ‘Hastings’, but
got lost and fetched up here instead. They then built themselves that castle and bossed everyone around because they had the soldiers. So, it seems to me that ‘duke’ is just another name for ‘plunderer’
– but
then I’m only a simple barmaid.”
You ask Betty about William
You decide to pursue this topic no further in case her sentiments become any more Jacobin; after all Britain has been at war for years now with a country that takes that kind of attitude to its
aristocracy. In any case she’s made her views pretty plain: she regards the Duke as barely legitimate and even less useful.
You ask Betty about the castle
“Where is the castle?” you ask.

“Just to the north of town, up the hill to the west,” she replies.
You ask Betty about the castle
She’s already told you that the castle is just to the north of town,
up the hill to the west.
You ask Betty about Betty
“What did you do before working here, Betty?” you ask.

“Nursed my mother when she was ill,” she tells you. “That must
have
been – oh, more than ten years ago, anyway. She died, you see; I was only sixteen then. My father had already drowned in a fishing accident, so we were as poor as dungeon rats. This was a really good opening for me – a roof over my head, regular meals, and the work really ain’t that bad.”
You ask Betty about Betty
You can’t think of anything else to ask her about herself right now. She’s already told you that she was born on the island, as were her ancestors as far back as she knows. She lost her father to a fishing accident and her mother to illness at least ten years ago, and was probably left destitute, but working in the Red Dragon gives her a
roof over her head and regular meals, and she seems happy enough with that.
You ask Betty about Inn
“Why is this inn called the Red Dragon?” you ask.

“I’ve no idea,” she tells you. “It’s always been called
that.”
You ask Betty about the snuggles
“Betty, can you tell me about...” you begin.

“Hang on a minute, love,” she interrupts you, “I think one of
those
fishermen wants something.”
You ask about the blight
“What can you tell me about the blight?” you ask.

“No more than anyone else can – probably less,” she shrugs.
“It’s
killed the Pascoes’ farm and turned it into a barren waste, and now we’re all short of food.”
You ask her about the farm
“What are your views on farming, Betty?” you ask her.

“Maybe I’ll tell you when it’s quieter in here,” she replies,
glancing
across at the fishermen in the corner.
You ask her about the Room
She’s already given you a room key.
You examine the key
It’s just a plain brass key with the number 2 stamped on it.
Look around
The main room of the tavern seems cosy enough, and cleaner than quite
a few you’ve seen. There are several tables and chairs scattered about, while the bar counter runs close to the west wall, in front of
a door marked “Private”. The way out is to the east and a flight
of
stairs leads up to the floor above.

On the bar counter is a jug of red wine.

Betty is eyeing you with a lopsided grin.

A group of fishermen are sitting eating and drinking in the corner.
You ask her about the fishermen
“Do you get many fishermen in here, Betty?” you ask.

“All the time,” she sighs, “and they pay in kind, mostly. Still,
if
they didn’t, I wouldn’t have much to cook customers for dinner!”
You kiss betty
“It’s not that I’m unflattered by your interest, love,” she
interrupts
you, “but until you show me your interest in monetary form, it’s strictly no go!”

Three of the fishermen get up to leave as two others join the group.
Inventory
You are carrying a plain brass key.
You ask her about the prices
You ask your question. In reply she says, “It would take too long to answer that now, love – maybe some other time.”
Go up
Betty turns back to the bar and resumes her work.

A flight of stairs leads back down to the north, while to east, west and south are doors marked respectively Room 1, Room 2 and Room 3.
You enter the Room 2
(first unlocking the room 2 door, then opening it)

The room is fairly spartan, but at least it’s a reasonable size, with plenty of room for a bosun’s mate to swing a cat-o’-nine-tails. A narrow bed lies against one wall, while a dressing table rests against the opposite one. The door out leads east, while a small window looks out to the west.

On the dressing table is a brass lamp.
You look out the window
The window overlooks the back yard of the tavern. It’s closed.
You examine the dressing table
Like most of the furniture on the island, it is solid, plain and functional. It also has a single drawer. It’s closed. On the dressing table is a brass lamp.
You open the drawer
Opening the dressing table reveals a flint.
You take it
The dressing table is too heavy.
You take the flint
Taken.
You examine the lamp
It’s a large brass oil lamp.
You look at your surroundings
The room is fairly spartan, but at least it’s a reasonable size, with plenty of room for a bosun’s mate to swing a cat-o’-nine-tails. A narrow bed lies against one wall, while a dressing table rests against the opposite one. The door out leads east, while a small window looks out to the west.

On the dressing table is a brass lamp.
Sleep
You don’t need to sleep right now.
Light lamp
(with the flint)
You light the lamp by striking a spark from the flint.
Extinguish the lamp
You douse the lamp.
You look at the table
Like most of the furniture on the island, it is solid, plain and functional. It also has a single drawer. It’s open. On the
dressing
table is a brass lamp.
You get the lamp
Taken.
Inventory
You are carrying a plain brass key, a flint, and a brass lamp.
You examine the window
The window overlooks the back yard of the tavern. It’s closed.
You open the window
Opened.
You look through the window
The window overlooks the back yard of the tavern. It’s open.
You examine the yard
It’s a small walled yard, with a stack of barrels in one corner.
You look at the barrels
They look like beer barrels.
You go south
(first trying to open the room 3 door)
The room 3 door seems to be locked.
Go east
(first trying to open the room 1 door)
The room 1 door seems to be locked.
Go downwards
The main room of the tavern seems cosy enough, and cleaner than quite
a few you’ve seen. There are several tables and chairs scattered about, while the bar counter runs close to the west wall, in front of
a door marked “Private”. The way out is to the east and a flight
of
stairs leads up to the floor above.

On the bar counter is a jug of red wine.

Betty is working behind the bar.

A group of fishermen are sitting eating and drinking in the corner.

There’s a momentary lull in the fishermen’s conversation. Then
they
all start talking at once.
Go east
The west side of this long, grubby street is dominated by the Red Dragon Inn, while on the opposite side squats a row of bleak stone cottages. The street continues to north and south over well-worn cobbles.
Go north
This crossroads, at what may be the centre of the town, is formed by meeting of roads to north, south, east and west. All four roads lead between grim, grey buildings; the road to the east looks quite short, while that to the west leads up a distant hill. The roads to north
and south look as if they run on quite a way, but just a short way to the south you can see a hanging inn-sign.
You go south
There is little enough space in the front of this small shop as it is, and much of it is taken up with the densely-packed shelves jammed
round the walls. These are stacked with goods of every kind, bearing out the fact that this is the island’s only general store. A doorway stands open to the south behind the serving counter, opposite the street door to the north.

Sally Penhaligon is standing behind the counter.

A faint smell of fermenting apples wafts from the back room.
You ask her about the bed warming
“Hello there,” you say.

“Hello, sir,” she replies. “What can I do for you?”

“Mrs Penhaligon, what can you tell me about...” you begin.

The rest of your question is lost as Sally Penhaligon lets out a loud sneeze. “Oh, do excuse me, sir,” she begs.

A faint smell of fermenting apples wafts from the back room.
You tell Sally about the frigates
“Hm,” she replies, when you’ve had your say.
You ask Sally about Sally
“Have you been on this island long, Mrs Penhaligon?” you ask.

“All my life,” she tells you. “I was born here, just like my
husband.
Neither of us have ever known any other life.”
You ask Sally about the husband
“Tell me about your husband, Mrs Penhaligon,” you say.

“He’s a fishermen; he’ll be out in his boat now,” she tells
you.

A faint smell of fermenting apples wafts from the back room.
You look at the goods
The goods on the shelves include some fresh fruit and vegetables, pottery, wool, pins, needles, cutlery, pots, pans, bowls, jars, buttons, thread, rolls of thread and of string, some cheeses, a pile
of floppy hats, several large pieces of cloth, and many other things beside. Much of it looks like local produce, but if it all is then
the island must support a surprisingly wide range of industries.
You ask Sally about the economics
“Tell me, Mrs Penhaligon, what do you think about...” You break off
as
you realize she seems momentarily distracted.
You ask Sally about the husband
She’s already told you that her husband is a fisherman and that
he’s
out in his boat.
You ask Sally about the shop
“Has your shop been open long, Mrs Penhaligon?” you ask.

“It was open long before I was born, Mr Corby,” she replies.

A faint smell of fermenting apples wafts from the back room.
You ask Sally about the apples
“Is that cider I can smell being brewed?” you ask.

“That’s right,” she agrees, “and now you come to mention it, I
could
do with some more apples.”
You ask Sally about Pascoe
“Can you tell me about...?” you ask.

“Ask me about that some other time, Mr Corby,” she suggests.
You ask Sally about Meg
“Do you know anything about the woman they call mad Meg?” you ask.

“I know of her,” she affirms. “Can’t say I care for her much.
I
mean, well there were stories about why she left the Pascoes’ farm.
And living all alone in the woods like that and never coming into town nor going to church. I mean, it’s no wonder people think she’s –
well, not normal.”
You ask her about the church
“What about...?” you ask.

“That’s a long story, as they say, Mr Corby,” she tells you.
Tospic
(topics)

You could ask her about herself, or the castle.
You ask her about her
“How do you come to be running this shop?” you ask.

“Oh, I came to an arrangement with the Trelawneys,” she tells you. “They actually own it, but they let me run it in return for a share
of
the profits.”
You ask her about Trelawneys
“What do you think of Julia Trelawney?” you ask.

“The Trelawneys have been good to me,” she tells you, “and
they’re
much respected round here.”
You ask her about the castle
“Where is the castle?” you ask.

“Just to the north of town, up the hill to the west,” she replies.
You ask her about the castle
She’s already told you that the castle is just to the north of town,
up the hill to the west.

A faint smell of fermenting apples wafts from the back room.
You ask her about the woods
You ask your question.

“That would be telling now,” she replies with a knowing smile.
Look around
There is little enough space in the front of this small shop as it is, and much of it is taken up with the densely-packed shelves jammed
round the walls. These are stacked with goods of every kind, bearing out the fact that this is the island’s only general store. A doorway stands open to the south behind the serving counter, opposite the street door to the north.

Sally Penhaligon is standing here.

A faint smell of fermenting apples wafts from the back room.
Go south
“You can’t go in there – staff only.” Sally Penhaligon stops
you.
Go north
“Goodbye for now then, Mrs Penhaligon,” you say.

“Be seeing you, Mr Corby,” she replies cheerfully.

Pressed in between a rough stone wall to the north and a small shop to the south this short, narrow street runs east back towards the coast and west towards the centre of town.
You go west
This crossroads, at what may be the centre of the town, is formed by meeting of roads to north, south, east and west. All four roads lead between grim, grey buildings; the road to the east looks quite short, while that to the west leads up a distant hill. The roads to north
and south look as if they run on quite a way, but just a short way to the south you can see a hanging inn-sign.
Go north
The street is narrow here, barely wide enough for two people to pass, and looks just as narrow as it continues to north and south. An ancient stone chapel stands immediately to the east, opposite a
terrace of mean little cottages hugging the west side of the street.
You go south
This crossroads, at what may be the centre of the town, is formed by meeting of roads to north, south, east and west. All four roads lead between grim, grey buildings; the road to the east looks quite short, while that to the west leads up a distant hill. The roads to north
and south look as if they run on quite a way, but just a short way to the south you can see a hanging inn-sign.
Go west
To the east the street is fairly level, but a short distance to the west it starts to climb a shallow hill. At this point the street runs between a small bakery to the north, and a narrow alley to the south.

The smell of baking bread wafts from the bakery.
You go to the west
This looks like the roughest part of town, with the road surface equally pitted up the hill to the west and down to the east. The cottages on either side of the street look more thrown together than built, being rough and tiny.
You go to the west
The summit of this low hill is fairly flat, and continues to the northwest. To the north, it descends quite rapidly into a hollow, while to south and east it slopes down towards the beach, and grass gives way to sand. To the east are the faint traces of the track
which become a street running back down towards the centre of the
town. Although you’re not that high up, you get a clear view over
the
sea from here, truncated by the ever-present mist.

You notice a particularly attractive clump of wild flowers growing here.
You take the flowers
You lean down and pick the flowers, being careful to preserve the arrangement when you form them into a bunch.
Go north
The hollow is formed by an unclimbably steep hill to north and east, and rather gentler slopes to south and west. The end of a drainage pipe protrudes from some way up the northern hillside.

A glint of sunlight catches something on the ground.
You look at the glint
(x flint)

Strictly speaking it’s a flint with a steel, presumably for lighting the lamp.

A rabbit scuttles away up the hill.
You examine something
It’s hard to tell what it is: it looks like a small round metal boss
or knob.

There’s a raucous cry overhead as a crow takes flight.
You take the knob
It seems to be firmly embedded in the ground.

There’s a distant shout from the castle wall way above.
Dig
What do you want to dig in?
Ground
(with your hands)
You scoop out some of the earth round the object with your hands, creating a small round hole in the ground; this reveals the object in the ground to be a buried sword hilt.
You take the sword
However hard you pull, you cannot budge it so much as a fraction of an inch.

A shaft of sunlight momentarily strikes the hilt of the sword.
Dig
What do you want to dig in?
Ground
(with your hands)
You try to scoop out some more earth but it just runs back into the hole.
You examine the sword
So far as you can tell, it may still be attached to its sword, but if so, the sword is well buried. The hilt looks solid and ancient, with some fine patterns carved into it; it could be made of bronze.

Some earth starts slipping back into the hole.
You look around
The hollow is formed by an unclimbably steep hill to north and east, and rather gentler slopes to south and west. The end of a drainage pipe protrudes from some way up the northern hillside.

The round hole contains the hilt of a sword.

With a rush, the rest of the earth you just dug out falls into the hole, burying the sword hilt once more.
You examine the pipe
From here all you can see is the end of the pipe sticking out of the hillside several yards above your head; a small trickle of water falls from the pipe and runs a short way down the hill.

A glint of sunlight catches something on the ground.
You look at water
From here all you can see is the end of the pipe sticking out of the hillside several yards above your head; a small trickle of water falls from the pipe and runs a short way down the hill.
Drink water
The drainage pipe is too far away.
Wash
What do you want to clean?
Yourself
You’ve been very happy to leave cleaning things to deck-hands ever since you passed the exam to lieutenant.

A rabbit scuttles away up the hill.
Look around
The hollow is formed by an unclimbably steep hill to north and east, and rather gentler slopes to south and west. The end of a drainage pipe protrudes from some way up the northern hillside.
Go west
This narrow finger of land juts out into the sea between a large semi-circular bay to the south and a small rocky cove to the north, neither of which is directly accessible from here. Some kind of
marker stone has been set up near the tip of the point. The high
ground continues to the southeast, but falls away into a hollow to the east.

A small gold object lies on the ground, just by the marker stone.
You examine the object
It’s a small gold ear-ring. You’re fairly sure it matches the one
worn by Julia.
You take the object
Taken.
You go to the south-east
The summit of this low hill is fairly flat, and continues to the northwest. To the north, it descends quite rapidly into a hollow, while to south and east it slopes down towards the beach, and grass gives way to sand. To the east are the faint traces of the track
which become a street running back down towards the centre of the
town. Although you’re not that high up, you get a clear view over
the
sea from here, truncated by the ever-present mist.
Go south
The beach stretches away to both northwest and southeast from here,
its approximate mid-point. A short way to the north the ground climbs sharply up a hill, while out to sea a collection of fishing-boats is stretched out across the bay.

A small green toolbox lies on the beach beside a fishing net.

The small green toolbox contains a screwdriver.

A stout man is sitting on the beach mending the net.
Toolbox
The story doesn’t understand that command.
You look at the toolbox
It’s just a small green toolbox, made of wood. It contains a screwdriver.
You talk to the man
“Good day to you,” you greet him.

“Can’t say I see what’s good about it,” he grunts in reply.

(You could ask him about mad Meg, or himself.)
You ask the man about the man
“And you might you be?” you ask.

“I’m Samuel Pascoe,” he tells you. “Who wants to know?”
You ask him about Meg
“Do you know anything about the woman they call ‘mad Meg’?” you
ask.

“She’s not mad, she’s as sane as you or me,” he replies.
“She’s just
a bit different, that’s all.”
You ask him about Meg
“What do you know about Meg?” you ask.

“Well, Jenny and me took her in when she was a mere babe – her own folks didn’t want her. She were a good lass, never gave us any trouble. Except – well, some of the things she said sounded so
strange – didn’t bother me too much but Jen – my wife – well
she were
a bit spooked like. Anyroad, it seemed best she moved out, so I
helped her build a little home in the woods, and that’s where she
lives still.”
You tell the man about Meg
He listens morosely to what you have to say.
You tell the man about Jenny
“How’s your wife taking everything?” you ask.

“Badly,” he sighs. “She’s a changed woman since we left the
farm, and
that’s the truth. Maybe it’s worse for her being cooped up in that stinking fish-house all day long, while I at least get to work in the open air. But she’s taken it all dreadful hard.”
You ask the man about Cad
“I think I’ve met your son, but not under the happiest of circumstances,” you say. “He was trying to rob Lady Inalda.”

“The young fool!” Samuel Pascoe spits. “He’s been running wild
ever
since we were forced off the farm; now he’s really gone and done
it!”
You ask the man about the screwdriver
“Could I possibly borrow your screwdriver, please, Mr Pascoe?” you
ask.

“Well, the way I see it, I can’t afford to give someone something
for
nothing,” he says, “but I’ll tell you what; I’m starting to
feel more
than a little hungry, so you bring me something good to eat and I
might consider letting you borrow my screwdriver.”
You check your inventory
You are carrying a plain brass key, a flint, a brass lamp, a bunch of flowers, and a small gold ear-ring.

The flowers have quite a sweet, delicate scent.
You go to the southeast
Samuel Pascoe resumes mending the net.

The beach comes to an end at the stone jetty which lies just to the east. In the opposite direction the bay stretches off in a wide arc
to the northwest, while a narrow track runs up through a thicket to
the northeast. A little way out to sea is a fleet of fishing boats.
You go to the east
The steep track from the north comes to an end at this bleak stone jetty, which is flanked by a large wooden building to the east and the beach stretching out along the bay to the west. The jetty juts just a short way out into the water, and both from the smell and from the
fish fragments lying about, obviously serves as a landing stage for
the island’s fishermen. No boats are tied up here at the moment, but there are several a short way out to sea in the bay.

It would be an exaggeration to say that the smell of rotting fish is overpowering, since you are not overpowered by it, but it is certainly inescapable.
Go north
Leading down from the town to the north towards a stone jetty to the south, this steep track is little more than a well-trodden path along the edge of the barren scrubland that extends to the east. A narrow side-track runs off through a thicket to the southwest.
You go to the south-west
The beach comes to an end at the stone jetty which lies just to the east. In the opposite direction the bay stretches off in a wide arc
to the northwest, while a narrow track runs up through a thicket to
the northeast. A little way out to sea is a fleet of fishing boats.
You go north
The west side of this long, grubby street is dominated by the Red Dragon Inn, while on the opposite side squats a row of bleak stone cottages. The street continues to north and south over well-worn cobbles.
Go north
This crossroads, at what may be the centre of the town, is formed by meeting of roads to north, south, east and west. All four roads lead between grim, grey buildings; the road to the east looks quite short, while that to the west leads up a distant hill. The roads to north
and south look as if they run on quite a way, but just a short way to the south you can see a hanging inn-sign.

A trio of young men emerge from South Street, but then go their separate ways from the crossroads.
Go north
The street is narrow here, barely wide enough for two people to pass, and looks just as narrow as it continues to north and south. An ancient stone chapel stands immediately to the east, opposite a
terrace of mean little cottages hugging the west side of the street.
Go north
A pair of granite cottages mark the northern edge of the town, the
bulk of which lies to the south. To the north the road crosses a
small stone bridge, while a wide path winds up the grassy hill to the west. The way east is barred by the impenetrable woodland behind the cottages.
You go north
The bridge is narrow, but in a reasonable state of repair apart from the parapet, which is starting to crumble in places. From the brow of the bridge you can see a stream racing eastwards to power a mill. To the south the road runs back into town, while to the north it turns into a farm-track.
Go north
This short length of farm track comes to an end at the narrow stone bridge just to the south and peters out into open country a short way north. Its main purpose seems to be to serve the large water-mill
that stands immediately to the east. On the opposite side of the
track a stream flows briskly past to the south before turning east under the bridge; beyond the stream lurks the bulk of a massive hill, its face too steep to climb even if you could somehow cross the stream to reach it.
Go east
The inside of the mill is dominated by a huge vertically-mounted iron cog wheel, which is currently stationary, and is connected via a
series of lesser cogs to the upper of a pair of large horizontally-mounted millstones. Next to the main cog is a long
wooden lever, while a small metal wheel is mounted on the south wall. In the east wall is a small trapdoor, while the way out is to the
west.

An old sack has somehow become draped over the rafters.
You examine the sack
It’s draped over a rafter, just over the main cog wheel. It looks
like someone must have thrown it up there as a prank.
You examine the lever
It’s just a long wooden lever.
You examine the iron wheel
It’s a good ten feet in diameter, with large teeth placed about two inches apart round its circumference. It’s currently still.
You look at the trapdoor
It’s about a foot square, too small to crawl through. A small length of chain is attached to the wall just above it, and some wooden fragments lie on the floor just beneath. It’s closed.
You get the lever
You can’t take that.
You open the trapdoor
It opens easily. You peer through the trapdoor into a dark space
which extends several yards beneath the level of the mill floor. You can’t make out much within, but you guess it might be some kind of grain store. You can’t be sure, but you think you can make out a
small pile of grain at the bottom.
You pull the lever
Pulling the lever causes a subtle rearrangement of the lesser cogs.
You examine the small metal wheel
It’s a small round metal wheel comprising rim, hub and four spokes,
all painted black.
You turn it
You turn the small iron wheel as far as it will go. The giant cog wheel starts to turn. The top of the wheel just misses the sack.
You get on the wheel
(the huge cog wheel)
You can’t board that.
You look at the millstones
The upper and lower millstones form a matching pair, each round and about a couple of feet in diameter.
You check your inventory
You are carrying a plain brass key, a flint, a brass lamp, a bunch of flowers, and a small gold ear-ring.

The flowers have quite a sweet, delicate scent.
You pull the lever
Pulling the lever causes a subtle rearrangement of the lesser cogs.
The upper millstone starts to turn.
Turn wheel
You turn the small iron wheel back again. The giant vertical cog
stops turning.
Climb wheel
(the huge cog wheel)
It looks a bit too awkward to climb.
You go west
This short length of farm track comes to an end at the narrow stone bridge just to the south and peters out into open country a short way north. Its main purpose seems to be to serve the large water-mill
that stands immediately to the east. On the opposite side of the
track a stream flows briskly past to the south before turning east under the bridge; beyond the stream lurks the bulk of a massive hill, its face too steep to climb even if you could somehow cross the stream to reach it.
You go to the south
The bridge is narrow, but in a reasonable state of repair apart from the parapet, which is starting to crumble in places. From the brow of the bridge you can see a stream racing eastwards to power a mill. To the south the road runs back into town, while to the north it turns into a farm-track.
You look at the parapet
The stone parapet runs at about chest height on both sides of the bridge; on both sides the top of the parapet is starting to crumble, and weeds are growing in the cracks.
You get the weeds
The weeds don’t look worth meddling with.
You go south
A pair of granite cottages mark the northern edge of the town, the
bulk of which lies to the south. To the north the road crosses a
small stone bridge, while a wide path winds up the grassy hill to the west. The way east is barred by the impenetrable woodland behind the cottages.
You examine the cottages
town; they are also detached, and stand a little way back from the road.
Go west
Half-way up the grassy hillside, the path up from the east turns sharply north as it continues up the slope. The bend in the path affords an excellent view over the town below.
You examine the town
From the vantage point of Castle Hill it becomes even more apparent that the town is little more than a collection of mean stone buildings arranged around the cross-shaped street layout.
You go to the north
The top of Castle Hill affords an excellent view over much of the southern part of the island, but the view to the north is blocked by the castle, which occupies most of the space up here. The archway leading into the castle lies directly to the north, while the path leading back down to the hill runs south.
You go north
At first sight this archway is impressive; not only is it at least eight feet wide and twelve high, it’s a good nine feet deep,
indicating the thickness of the wall at this point. Its
impressiveness as a piece of military architecture is, however, somewhat diminished once you notice the lack of anything that looks like a gate or portcullis. Two pairs of rusty hinges embedded in the walls indicate where some gates might once have hung, and an equally rusty drum by the east wall looks as if it might once have been part
of a mechanism for raising and lowering a portcullis. The arch is oriented north-south, leading out of the castle to the south and into it to the north.

A guard stands in the middle of the arch.
You examine the guard
He’s both dressed and equipped in a manner more appropriate to the reign of the third Henry than the third George.

The guard is carrying a halberd.

The guard shuffles from one foot to another.
You examine the guard
He’s both dressed and equipped in a manner more appropriate to the reign of the third Henry than the third George.

The guard is carrying a halberd.
You talk to the guard
“Good day to you,” you say.

“If you say so,” he grunts.

(You could tell him about yourself.)
You ask the guard about Duke
“Is the Duke in?” you ask.

“So far as I know, he is,” he tells you. “He’s usually in the
Great
Hall at this time.”
You examine the halbert
(x halberd)

The ancient weapon would be quite ineffective against even a small French raiding-party, but it’s more than adequate for preventing the entrance of the odd unarmed intruder or two.
You ask the guard about Inalda
“Is Lady Inalda at home?” you ask.

“So far as I know,” he tells you.
You ask guard about the halberd
“I’m on duty,” he replies stiffly.
Go north
The guard watches you depart.

Too small to count as a bailey, the courtyard is completely enclosed
by the castle wall. An archway leads out of the courtyard to the south, while to the north stands a misshapen keep. What looks like a stable block rests against the western wall, and a long crude
building, perhaps a barrack block for the castle guard, occupies the east wall.
Go north
This great hall has at least pretensions of grandeur. For one thing, it is large and draughty. For another, it is impressively bedecked with banners, shields, swords and even the odd suit of armour; but the impression made is of faded mediaeval glory rather than modern
potency. A wide staircase leads up to the north, and passages lead
off to east and west, while the main exit is back out to the south.

Duke William is standing in the middle of the hall, looking at you expectantly.

“Lieutenant Corby, how good of you to call!” Lady Inalda declares.

Turning to her cousin she adds, “William, this is the man I was
telling you about – the one who rescued me earlier this morning.”

The Duke eyes you carefully, then gives a curt nod. “I see; then it would seem we owe you a debt of gratitude, lieutenant. Lady Inalda tells me that you were washed ashore on this island only this morning; in that case I imagine you must be left destitute and without any
means of supporting yourself; is that assumption correct?”

(You could say yes or no, or tell him about Julia.)
You tell him about Julia
“Well, a kind young lady called Julia Trelawney found me on the
shore,
took me back to her house and not only gave me a bowl of hot soup to revive me, but a gold coin so I could stay at the Red Dragon Inn for a while,” you tell him, “Hopefully that should last me until I find a boat off the island and rejoin my ship.”

“That was indeed kind of Miss Trelawney,” the Duke nods, “But
there
are no boats off this island, and one gold coin won’t keep you for long. However, I may be able to improve your prospects, lieutenant; you could enter my service – you sound like the sort of man I could use.” He pauses for a brief moment to gauge your reaction, then adds, “But first I’d need some concrete pledge of loyalty.”

(You could ask what he wants of you, or refuse.)
You ask what he wants of yourself
“What do you want of me?” you ask.

“You may have heard of the blight that’s afflicting this isle,”
he
begins. “It’s causing food shortages, and that’s encouraging smuggling. I have my suspicions about who’s behind it, but I need proof. That’s where you come in, I want you to obtain proof of
who’s
behind this smuggling racket and then bring it to me. Will you do that?”

(You could say yes or no, ask him about smuggling, or ask why you.)
You ask him about the smuggling
“Can you tell me more about this smuggling problem, your grace?”
you
ask.

“Ideally, Valon should be self-sufficient,” he explains. “We
cannot
rely on contact with the outside world to supply our needs. Smuggling in goods from the outside – however desirable they may seem – only undermines our self-sufficiency. Don’t think me an unreasonable man, lieutenant, I realize that the odd little luxury or two does no harm, but it’s grown too big, and it needs to be controlled. So – will
you
help?”
You ask why yourself
“Why me?” you ask, “I’m a stranger here!”

“And that’s precisely why you’re the best person for the job,”
he
replies with a thin smile. “Everyone else on the island is too well known; what’s more their loyalties are too well known. On
the other hand, right now no one knows where you stand. People may tell you things they’d never tell anyone known to work for me.”
You ask him about the smuggling
“What’s being smuggled in?” you inquire.

“Just about anything we can’t produce here,” he replies, “and
maybe
some things we can. Strong drink, cloth, metal goods, non-local foodstuffs – anything the scoundrels think they have a market for.
It
wouldn’t matter if it were just a trickle, but it’s become a flood! Anyway, I can’t imagine you’ll have much difficulty identifying
stuff
that wasn’t produced on Valon, lieutenant; then all you need to do is to trace it back to its source. So, will you do that for me?”
You ask him about the smuggling
“I’ve told you all you need to know,” he replies. “The
question is,
will you help me catch these smugglers?”
You ask why yourself
“But what makes you think I’m qualified to do this sort of work?”
you
want to know.

“You’re an officer of the crown,” he replies, “a natural
supporter of
the establishment, loyal to those in authority, and as a naval officer a natural enemy of smugglers, I should have thought. You also must have some intelligence to have gained a naval commission. I have
every confidence in you, lieutenant. So, will you take on the job?”
You ask why yourself
The Duke has made it fairly clear why he thinks you’re the man for
the
job: he thinks your profession puts you naturally on his side, while your being a stranger should make it easier to get people to tell you things.
Yes
“Yes, I’ll do what I can, your grace.” you reply.

“Good,” he replies. “If you can do this little thing I shall see
to
it that you’re well rewarded.”
You ask about the reward
“Your grace mentioned a reward,” you venture.

“Yes, I did, lieutenant,” he agrees. “Find me proof of who’s
behind
the smuggling, and I shall see to it that you are very comfortably set up in my service.”
You ask Duke about the blight
“What can you tell me about the blight, your grace?” you ask.

“It’s a pesky nuisance,” he grumbles. “It makes the islanders
complain of being short of food. Well, they will just have to tighten their belts.”
You ask Duke about the mist
“This mist that surrounds the island – what is it, do you think?”
you
ask.

“I don’t know, lieutenant,” he replies, “but at least I know
that I do
not know. One thing I do know is that not everything said about that mist can be true. For one thing, it does not seem to me to be a mist in the ordinary sense of that word. For another, I do not believe it to be so impossible to penetrate as it is said to be; someone
knows how to get through it, they’re just not telling the rest of
us.”
You ask Duke about the Castle
“How old is this castle, your grace?” you ask.

“Several generations,” he replies vaguely. “It was built by my ancestors when they first came to this isle.”
You ask Duke about mill
You don’t know him well enough to engage him in idle chatter, and he doesn’t look the sort of man who would welcome it.
You ask Duke about Meg
“Do you know of the woman they call mad Meg, your grace?” you ask.

“Of course I know of her; the whole island knows of her,” he
replies.
“Perhaps some fool has told you she’s a witch, but that is just ignorant superstition. The woman is quite harmless.”
Look around
This great hall has at least pretensions of grandeur. For one thing, it is large and draughty. For another, it is impressively bedecked with banners, shields, swords and even the odd suit of armour; but the impression made is of faded mediaeval glory rather than modern
potency. A wide staircase leads up to the north, and passages lead
off to east and west, while the main exit is back out to the south.

Duke William stands in the middle of the hall, regarding you coolly. Lady Inalda meanwhile stands at your side, facing him.
You examine the banners
On closer inspection some of the banners look faded, some tattered,
and many both.
You examine the armour
The antique suits of armour look like they may have afforded some measure of protection against sword and mace, but not one of them
would stop a musket ball.
You ask Duke about the sword
“I’ve come across the strangest thing, your grace,” you tell him,
“a
sword buried in the hollow just to the southwest of the castle.”

“Well, should you manage to unbury it, perhaps you could bring it
here
to add to my collection,” he suggests, glancing up at the wall.
You ask Duke about pipe
You don’t know him well enough to engage him in idle chatter, and he doesn’t look the sort of man who would welcome it.
You ask Duke about Julia
“What do you think about Julia, your grace?” you ask.

“I think you ask too many questions, lieutenant,” he replies.
You go to the south
Duke William watches you leave. Lady Inalda follows you out.

Too small to count as a bailey, the courtyard is completely enclosed
by the castle wall. An archway leads out of the courtyard to the south, while to the north stands a misshapen keep. What looks like a stable block rests against the western wall, and a long crude
building, perhaps a barrack block for the castle guard, occupies the east wall.

Lady Inalda stops in the middle of the courtyard and motions you to join her.

“A word, if you please, lieutenant,” she says. “I don’t know
whether
you truly intend to do as my cousin asks, but perhaps there is something you might do for me.”

(You could ask what she wants, or ask her about smuggling.)
You ask what she wants
“What do you want of me, my lady?” you ask.

“The most serious threat facing us right now is the blight,” she
tells
you. “And it’s not just the food shortages, it is all that flows
from
them, as Cadan Pascoe’s attack this morning has brought home to me. Something must be done about it, but I feel so limited in
what I can do without help. You on the other hand – well, perhaps being new here and more knowledgeable about the world beyond Valon, perhaps you could go and take a look at the blight and see if you can tell what might be behind it. And while you’re at it, perhaps you could see if you can make any sense of this.” She hands you a sheet
of
parchment.
You examine the parchment
The parchment bears a poem that reads:

“Where copper, iron and tin are found,
and ores extracted underground,
there is a path the mountain through,
which can be found by purpose true:
true as knight’s on holy quest,
true as one who gives his best,
true lies the route that shall not fail
him who seeks the Holy Grail.”
You ask her about the parchment
“Where did you get this?” you ask, indicating the parchment.

“I came across it in the castle archives a few months back.” she
tells
you.
You ask her about the blight
“What do you know about the blight?” you ask.

“That it has turned valuable farmland into barren waste,” she tells you.
You ask her about the smuggling
“What do you think about the smuggling that’s apparently going on
round here, my lady?” you ask.

“To be honest, lieutenant, I am not so concerned about it as my
cousin
is,” she tells you. “At least, I cannot see that any great harm is being done by it.”
Continue
She has already told you that she’s not so concerned about the smuggling as her cousin is, and that she cannot see that any great
harm is being done by it.
Topics
You could ask her about the blight, the Holy Grail, or the poem.
You ask her about Grail
“Tell me, my lady, are there any Grail legends connected with this island?” you ask.

“Funny you should ask that,” she replies. “I vaguely recall
hearing
something as a child, but I never paid it much attention since; it
just sounded too much like a child’s fairy-tale, or else a popular legend told by the inhabitants of a small island to make themselves feel important. You know the sort of thing, the chalice Christ used
at the Last Supper, the Holy Grail, passed through our blessed Isle of Valon. I’m sure there’s nothing in it.”
You continue
Lady Inalda has already told you that she vaguely recalls hearing some wild tale about the Holy Grail coming to Valon as a child, but that
she dismisses it as a childish legend. There seems no point in pursuing the subject any further with her.
You ask her about the poem
“Do you have any idea what this poem means?” you ask her.

“There’s an old mine to the north of town,” she tells you. “It
looks
like it could have something to do with that.”
You ask her about the poem
“You think this poem could indicate a way through the Ridge?” you suggest.

“It does seem to suggest that, lieutenant,” she agrees, “but it
is not
entirely clear, is it? Anyway, I’d like you to find out what you
can,
but please don’t take any risks. I want you to come back and tell me anything you discover; so please be careful.”
You ask her about the poem
“Did your father and uncle follow this poem when they took their expedition?” you wonder.

“I don’t think so,” she shakes her head. “No one said anything
about
a mine at the time, and I don’t think they ever saw that
parchment.”
You ask about the expedition
“Can you tell me about...” you begin.

“Wait! What was that?” She asks, cocking her head to one side.
Then,
after a moment, she continues, “Sorry, I thought I heard
something.”
You ask about Ridge
“What do you make of the Ridge, my lady?” you ask.

“I think it strange that there should be such a barrier across the island,” she replies.
You continue
She’s already told you she thinks it’s strange that there should be such a barrier across the island.
You ask about the uncle
“What sort of man was your uncle?” you ask.

“The former Duke, you mean?” she asks. “He was proud, noble, courageous and determined. He was sure of his right to rule, but equally sure that such a right came with obligations.”
Keep going
She has already told you that her uncle, the former Duke, was proud, noble, courageous and determined; a man sure of his right to rule, but equally sure that such a right carried obligations.
You ask about William
She doesn’t seem prepared to talk about him right now.
You ask about poem
There’s probably not a lot more you can ask her about it right now.
She doesn’t know what the poem means, but thinks it may indicate a
way
through the Ridge via an old mine. She’d like you to investigate,
but
wants you to be careful; she wants you to come back and tell her whatever you discover.
Topics
You could ask her about the blight.
You ask about the blighty
“Now, what about...” you begin.

“Later, lieutenant,” she interrupts you. “I’m a bit
preoccupied right
now.”
You ask about the blight
“What effect has the blight had?” you want to know.

“It has halved the island’s agricultual production,” she sighs.
“I am
sure you can work out the consequences of that for yourself, lieutenant:” she adds, “fear and hunger – and a lot more people
taking
up fishing!”
You ask about the fishing
“I imagine fishing must be quite an important industry here,” you remark.

“Indeed so,” she agrees. “It is our principal source of food;
beef,
lamb and poultry are rare delicacies these days.”
You ask about the blight
“Do you have any idea what caused the blight, my lady?” you ask.

“No,” she replies shortly, “and neither does anyone else, in my opinion. Oh, you’ll probably hear some wild theories, but no one really knows.”
Continue
“Does anyone have any idea what to do about the blight?” you
inquire.

In reply she gives a bitter laugh, “Since no one understands its
cause, you can hardly expect them to come up with a cure,
lieutenant!”
Continue
You’ve run out of things you can usefully ask her about the blight. She’s already indicated that in her view no one knows either its
cause
or its cure, and that its effect has been to turn valuable farmland into barren waste, thereby halving the island’s agricultural
production and causing fear and hunger as a result.
You go to the east
Although from the outside the barracks don’t exactly give the impression of being overcrowded, the chances are that some of the Duke’s guards are living there, and you don’t want to tangle with
them.
You go west
“The way out is that way, lieutenant,” Lady Inalda observes,
pointing
to the south with a faint smile.
Look around
Too small to count as a bailey, the courtyard is completely enclosed
by the castle wall. An archway leads out of the courtyard to the south, while to the north stands a misshapen keep. What looks like a stable block rests against the western wall, and a long crude
building, perhaps a barrack block for the castle guard, occupies the east wall.

Lady Inalda is standing facing you in the middle of the courtyard.
You look at stable
The stable block is a low wooden building running along the inside of the west wall, and abutting the tower at the southwestern corner of
the keep.
You look at the tower
The stubby round tower sticks up at the southwestern corner of the keep, abutting the stable block. A single window high up in the tower overlooks the courtyard.
You examine keep
Either the keep was never completed, or parts have been added on
almost at random, since the building (which in any case is probably little more than a glorified manor house) has a decidedly lopsided appearance. The greatest affront to symmetry is the single round
tower standing at the southwestern corner, but the entire building is ugly, though large, as if its designers couldn’t agree whether it was intended for defence, grandeur or comfort and accordingly botched all three objectives.
You examine the window
The stubby round tower sticks up at the southwestern corner of the keep, abutting the stable block. A single window high up in the tower overlooks the courtyard.
Bye
“Take care now, lieutenant, and be sure to come back and tell me when you have something to report,” Lady Inalda tells you.
Go south
The archway is at least eight feet wide and twelve high. It’s also a good nine feet deep, indicating the thickness of the wall at this point. Two pairs of rusty hinges embedded in the walls indicate where some gates might once have hung, and an equally rusty drum by the east wall looks as if it might once have been part of a mechanism for raising and lowering a portcullis. The arch is oriented north-south, leading out of the castle to the south and into it to the north. But of the gate and portcullis themselves there is no sign.

The guard stands in the middle of the arch.

The guard eyes you suspiciously.
You go to the south
The top of Castle Hill affords an excellent view over much of the southern part of the island, but the view to the north is blocked by the castle, which occupies most of the space up here. The archway leading into the castle lies directly to the north, while the path leading back down to the hill runs south.
You go south
Half-way up the grassy hillside, the path up from the east turns sharply north as it continues up the slope. The bend in the path affords an excellent view over the town below.
You go to the east
A pair of granite cottages mark the northern edge of the town, the
bulk of which lies to the south. To the north the road crosses a
small stone bridge, while a wide path winds up the grassy hill to the west. The way east is barred by the impenetrable woodland behind the cottages.
Go south
The street is narrow here, barely wide enough for two people to pass, and looks just as narrow as it continues to north and south. An ancient stone chapel stands immediately to the east, opposite a
terrace of mean little cottages hugging the west side of the street.
You go east
This little chapel is about as bare as a place of Christian worship gets. The rough stone walls are unplastered, and the pews little more than plain wooden benches. The stone altar at the east end is quite unadorned, although presumably something is put on it when worship is in progress. The street exit is to the west, but another, smaller
open doorway leads north.
You examine the altar
The altar is almost totally unadorned; presumably it is stripped bare between services. An indication of its antiquity is not simply that
it is made of stone, unlike the wooden communion tables of civilized Protestant churches, but that the faint carving on the front looks extremely worn.
You look at the carving
Although the carving is extremely faded, you can just discern the outline of a chalice of possibly ancient pattern. Although this is by no means an inappropriate symbol for an altar it strikes you as a little unusual; if anything, you might have expected a cross.
You look at pews
Clearly not designed for comfort, the pews are about as barely functional as plain wooden benches can be; about the one thing to be said in their favour is that it would be almost impossible to fall asleep on them however tedious the sermon.
You look at the walls
south wall: The south wall of the chapel is of rough, undressed
stone.

north wall: Like the other walls, the north wall is of
undressed stone; a small open doorway in the wall leads north.

east wall: The altar rests near the east wall; otherwise it is
made of rough undressed stone, just like the others.

west wall: Apart from the fact that the way back out to the
street is set in the west wall, it is just like the other three: made of rough, unplastered stone.
Go north
This small chamber apparently does duty as dressing-room and office
for the parish priest. A row of cupboards, presumably containing vestments and altar furniture, lines the north wall, while a small
desk nestles against the east one. The way back into the chapel lies south, but a large wooden door leads west. A small metal hook is set into the wall next to this door.

A plain wooden chair rests by the desk.

On the small wooden desk is a sermon. On the hook is a large iron
key.

The priest is sitting working at his desk. He looks up at your entrance and remarks, “So – another sinner come to join my
flock!”
You look at the priest
He is a thin, austere man, dressed in a long black cassock. A few wisps of white hair dangle about his scalp. Piercing dark eyes stare out either side of a nose that’s as thin and sharp as a shark’s
fin,
and there’s something tight and mean about his mouth. He is sitting
on the plain wooden chair.

The priest is wearing a long black cassock.
You talk to the priest
You already have the priest’s attention.

(You could ask him about the blight, Mrs Pascoe, mad Meg, or himself, or tell him about yourself.)
You ask him about the blight
“What can you tell me about the blight?” you ask.

“It’s causing terrible hardship here,” he replies. “Life here
is hard
enough for most people as it is. The loss of one of the island’s two farms has been a terrible blow.”
You ask him about the chapel
“Your chapel looks very ancient,” you remark.

“I think it must be,” he agrees. “I have kept it just as I found
it,
since the islanders feel it should be preserved just as it always has been, and no one can remember a time before it was here.”
You ask him about the carving
“That’s an unusual carving on the front of your altar, isn’t
it?” you
remark. “Some sort of chalice, isn’t it? I’d have expected a
cross.”

“So would I – if that,” the priest concurs, “but then, the
altar is
very ancient, and the chalice is a symbol of Holy Communion.”
You ask him about Meg
“Who is this mad Meg person?” you want to know.

“She is a creature of hell, an evil witch, born out of wedlock and possessed by demons,” the priest tells you, his eyes bulging with
fury. “If the blight is not due to her witchcraft it is God’s punishment for not putting her to death!”
You ask him about himself
“And you are...?” you ask.

“Father Andrew,” he tells you.
You ask him about yourself
“I don’t propose to discuss that now,” he replies stiffly.
You tell him about yourself
“By the way, I’m Lieutenant James Corby, Royal Navy,” you
introduce
yourself.

“So – a royalist,” he remarks, with mild disapproval.
You ask him about the royalists
“Perhaps we can discuss that some other time,” he suggests.
You ask him about Duke
“What do you make of Duke William?” you ask.

“A proud man,” Father Andrew sighs, “a thorough-going Norman aristocrat, more concerned with his rights as ruler than for the welfare of the people he rules.”
You ask him about the mist
“Can you tell me about the sea-mist?” you request.

“Maybe,” he replies concomittally, “but not just at this
minute.” He
glances meaningfully at his unfinished sermon.
You ask him about the sermon
“Is that your sermon for Sunday?” you ask.

“That’s right,” he agrees, adding, “It still needs a lot of
work; I
believe in taking great care over my sermons.”
You ask him about Grail
“I’d like to ask you about the Holy Grail,” you say.

“I daresay you would, but that doesn’t mean I’d like to answer
right
now,” he replies, glancing pointedly at his sermon.
You ask him about Ridge
“What do you think about the Ridge?” you ask.

“Nothing I’d care to share with you just at this moment,” he
replies.
You ask him about the god
“How should God be worshipped?” you ask.

“In spirit and in truth,” he replies at once. “By repenting of
our
sins and trusting in his mercy.”
Repent
The story doesn’t understand that command.
You ask him about Julia
“I take it you know Julia Trelawney?” you ask.

“Of course; I know everyone on the island, and everyone on the island knows the Trelawneys,” he replies. “She is not as careful for her immortal soul as I might wish, but she’s a pleasant person, and one
who always pulls her weight.”
You ask him about the key
“Can I borrow that key, please?” you ask.

“No,” he replies. “What lies beyond that door is not for your
eyes.”
You ask about the smuggling
“I’ve heard there’s some smuggling going on round here,” you
say.
“Would you happen to know anything about that, Father Andrew?”

“Smuggling, you say?” he replies. “I suppose some may call it
that.
Others might call it supplying the wants of the needy.”
You keep going
“Don’t you consider smuggling a sin, Father Andrew?” you ask.

“I might if I considered it smuggling,” he replies, “but maybe
the sin
rests with those who consider it so.”
You ask about smuggling
“Are you saying you approve of smuggling?” you ask him.

“I did not say that,” he points out. “What I do say is that
since the
blight came most of my flock can barely keep body and soul together. Without what you call ‘smuggling’ there’s many here who’d go
under,
and it’s not just my flock’s eternal welfare that concerns me –
though
it would be well for many of the sinners on the island to have longer to repent before they meet their maker!”
Continue
“The Duke seems to think that there’s some smuggling going on,”
you
point out.

“So you’ve been talking to the Duke!” he declares. “It is only
Duke
William’s avarice that makes him speak of ‘smuggling’, by which
he
means that someone somewhere has the temerity to import what the rest of us need without donating the lion’s share to the castle coffers.
Our Duke would store up treasure for himself here on earth while his subjects go hungry and naked. You may guess what his heavenly reward may be!”
You ask about the smuggling
“So you think that what the Duke calls ‘smuggling’ is simply the legitimate importation of goods that people here need,” you surmise.

“I do,” Father Andrew nods. “I’m sure some luxuries are
brought in
too, but I don’t begrudge my flock the occasional luxury – God
knows
their lives are hard enough.”
Keep going
“So do you know who is behind this – importation?” you ask.

“I know many things that I may not repeat,” he tells you. “That
goes
with being a priest.”
Continue
You seem to have exhausted this line of questioning for now. It’s clear, if a little surprising, that Father Andrew approves of the so-called smuggling, and that he has little respect for the Duke’s attempts to suppress it. In the priest’s view, the “smugglers”
are
simply alleviating the material hardship of the islanders’ lives. Father Andrew may well know who the smugglers are, but if so he’s not saying.
You read the sermon
Reading the sermon reveals that while God is mentioned a few times, such concepts as love, joy and salvation don’t get much of a mention.
Look around
This small chamber apparently does duty as dressing-room and office
for the parish priest. A row of cupboards, presumably containing vestments and altar furniture, lines the north wall, while a small
desk nestles against the east one. The way back into the chapel lies south, but a large wooden door leads west. A small metal hook is set into the wall next to this door.

A plain wooden chair rests by the desk.

On the small wooden desk is a sermon. On the hook is a large iron
key.

Father Andrew is seated at his desk, but has turned to face you.
You look at the cupboards
They’re plain-fronted wooden cupboards that presumably contain vestments, altar furniture, and other such ecclesiastical equipment.
You examine the desk
It has a sloping top, and is quite narrow, with only just enough room to write on. On the small wooden desk is a sermon.

Father Andrew turns back to his desk and resumes work on his sermon.
You get the key
“Thou shalt not steal!” barks Father Andrew, knocking your hand
aside.
You go west
(first trying to open the large wooden door)
The large wooden door seems to be locked.
Topics
You could ask him about the blight, Mrs Pascoe, mad Meg, or himself,
or tell him about yourself.
You ask about the mrs pascoe
“Excuse me,” you say.

Father Andrew turns in his chair and looks up at you. “Yes?” he
asks.

“Where can I find Mrs Pascoe?” you ask.

“She’ll be working in the fish-house I imagine, down by the
jetty,” he
tells you.
You keep going
He’s already told you that she’s probably working in the fish-house down by the jetty.
You ask about Meg
“What else can you tell me about this Meg person?” you ask.

“She lives out of town, somewhere in the forest to the north, like
the
wild creature she is,” Father Andrew tells you. “I tell you this, young man, if you want to atone for your past sins and escape the
wrath of God, you must do what none of the sinners here have yet dared to do: confront the evil witch and put her to death! Burning her at the stake would be proper, but I am sure that God in His mercy will find acceptable whatever means of putting her to death you can manage: ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!’”
You ask about the witches
Father Andrew remains silent, merely raising one eyebrow as if to indicate that your question really wasn’t worth the bother of asking, let alone the bother of answering.
You ask about Meg
“If this Meg is so obviously an evil witch, how come no one else
wants
to put her to death?” you ask.

“The Duke will not allow it; he protects her,” Father Andrew tells
you. “If he knew his duty to God he would order her to be burned!
But instead...”
Keep going
“Are you quite sure this Meg woman is a witch?” you ask.

“Quite sure,” he nods emphatically. “She has brought the blight
upon
us, and is constantly mixing potions and casting spells in that forest of hers. Young man, seize this opportunity to save your soul: seek this woman out and slay her!”
Keep going
“What makes you so sure that it’s Meg who’s responsible for the blight?” you inquire.

“You are new here, so I must make allowance for your questioning,”
he
replies. “If you had been here as long as I, her guilt would be obvious to you. Just ask the Pascoes, whose land was ruined by the blight. Or go and look at the blighted land for yourself – it’s
not
far to walk. I tell you, nothing natural can have caused the land to die like that, and there’s only one person on this island who
practises witchcraft – that Meg!”
You ask about the murder
“Wouldn’t killing mad Meg be a sin?” you wonder. “‘Thou
shalt do no
murder’ as the good book says.”

“Killing that witch would not be murder!” he thunders, “or else
the
good book would not command the death of witches!”
You ask about the lust
“What do you think of lust?” you ask.

“It’s sinful, obviously,” he replies.
You ask about Meg
“But is there any real evidence connecting this Meg with the
blight?”
you venture to ask.

Father Andrew regards you steadily for a few moments, then replies,
“If you want convincing, go and speak to Mrs Pascoe; she can tell her story better than I.”

(You could ask him who Mrs Pascoe is.)
You ask about Meg
You have heard enough of Father Andrew’s views on mad Meg: so far as he’s concerned she’s the worst sinner on the island, a witch who
should not be allowed to live; killing her would, in his view, therefore help atone for your past sins. He’s also told you that she lives in the forest to the north of town, and that (in his opinion) she’s demon-possessed and was born out of wedlock. Finally, he suggests you speak to Mrs Pascoe about her.
You ask who Mrs Pascoe is
“Who is this Mrs Pascoe?” you ask.

“Her husband had a farm up just south of the Ridge,” he explains.
“Mad Meg used to live with them. When they realized she was a witch, they threw her out. It was shortly after then that the blight came, but it was only their land that was affected. In the end they had to leave the farm – nothing could live there. They were left absolutely destitute, of course. Now Jennifer Pascoe has been reduced to gutting fish while her husband mends the fishermen’s nets.”
Topics
You could ask him about the blight, or himself, or tell him about yourself.
You ask about himself
“And what do you do here, apart from holding services?” you ask him

“Pray for the people, visit the sick – all the things a good priest should do,” he tells you.
You keep going
“How long have you been on the island; were you born here?” you
ask.

“No, I wasn’t born here,” he tells you. “I was on a ship that foundered, and fetched up here about twenty years ago,” he replies.
You ask him about the ship
“I was hoping you could tell me something about ships,” you say.

“And I was hoping to get this sermon written,” he replies.
You ask him about himself
“What did you do before you came to this island?” you wonder.

“I was a chaplain to Cromwell’s army,” he tells you, “but when
the
Restoration came it seemed politic to go elsewhere. The wind of
change that blew in Charles II wasn’t going to be kind to my sort.”

You refrain from pointing out that he seems to be referring to events 145 years ago, suspecting that he might not be quite right in the
head.
You ask him about himself
He’s already told you a bit about himself: as part of his priestly duties he prays for the islanders and visits the sick; he came here about twenty years ago when his ship foundered. He says he had been a chaplain to Cromwell’s forces and was fleeing England at the Restoration; since Charles II came to the throne 145 years ago this hardly seems likely, so you decide to stop pressing him any further,
in case he’s a little unhinged.
You ask him about Cromwell
“Did you say you were a chaplain to Cromwell’s army? Do
you
mean Oliver Cromwell?” you ask.

“That’s right; what other Cromwell had an army? Surely not Thomas!
But I know why you look so askance at the thought - you’re a
royalist!
Well, you and I shall never agree on that score, but such differences are of little moment here, so perhaps we should let the matter drop.”
You ask him about Cromwell
When you asked he confirmed that he was indeed a chaplain to Oliver Cromwell’s army, but seemed to think that the only reason you queried it was because your sympathies are royalist. He can’t possibly be
that old, of course, but in the face of his assertions there seems nothing for it but to accept his suggestion to let the matter drop.
Topics
You could ask him about the blight, or tell him about yourself.
Continue
You have already introduced yourself to him.
You ask about the blight
“What caused the blight, do you think?” you inquire.

“It’s nothing natural, that’s for certain,” he tells you.
“As I told
you, it’s either that witch Meg’s sorcery or divine retribution for
it. Either way, it is mad Meg’s fault, and she should be punished
for
it.”
Continue
“What can be done about the blight?” you ask.

“Is it not obvious?” he replies. “To remove the blight you must
remove its cause. As I have already told you, the witch must die.
You would serve God and the people of this island well if you killed her.”
Keep going
on the island, that it clearly isn’t a natural phenomenon, and that it’s either a direct result of mad Meg’s sorcery or a divine
punishment for allowing the witch, Meg, to live. He has also
suggested that the way to cure the blight is to remove its cause, namely Meg, and that you would do both God and the islanders a service by killing her.
Go south
Father Andrew turns back to his desk and resumes work on his sermon.

This little chapel is about as bare as a place of Christian worship gets. The rough stone walls are unplastered, and the pews little more than plain wooden benches. The stone altar at the east end is quite unadorned, although presumably something is put on it when worship is in progress. The street exit is to the west, but another, smaller
open doorway leads north.
You go to the west
The street is narrow here, barely wide enough for two people to pass, and looks just as narrow as it continues to north and south. An ancient stone chapel stands immediately to the east, opposite a
terrace of mean little cottages hugging the west side of the street.
You go south
This crossroads, at what may be the centre of the town, is formed by meeting of roads to north, south, east and west. All four roads lead between grim, grey buildings; the road to the east looks quite short, while that to the west leads up a distant hill. The roads to north
and south look as if they run on quite a way, but just a short way to the south you can see a hanging inn-sign.
You go to the south
The west side of this long, grubby street is dominated by the Red Dragon Inn, while on the opposite side squats a row of bleak stone cottages. The street continues to north and south over well-worn cobbles.
You go south
Leading down from the town to the north towards a stone jetty to the south, this steep track is little more than a well-trodden path along the edge of the barren scrubland that extends to the east. A narrow side-track runs off through a thicket to the southwest.
You go to the east
the west, and ends at clifftops to northeast and southeast. The area is deserted and little grows here but some scraggy grass, impoverished by the thin, stony soil. A long wooden fence runs along much of the northern boundary of this largely wasted space, but otherwise it is open to the elements.
You go to the west
Leading down from the town to the north towards a stone jetty to the south, this steep track is little more than a well-trodden path along the edge of the barren scrubland that extends to the east. A narrow side-track runs off through a thicket to the southwest.
Go south
The steep track from the north comes to an end at this bleak stone jetty, which is flanked by a large wooden building to the east and the beach stretching out along the bay to the west. The jetty juts just a short way out into the water, and both from the smell and from the
fish fragments lying about, obviously serves as a landing stage for
the island’s fishermen. No boats are tied up here at the moment, but there are several a short way out to sea in the bay.

It would be an exaggeration to say that the smell of rotting fish is overpowering, since you are not overpowered by it, but it is certainly inescapable.
You go east
as it does from the outside. A pair of long wooden benches run along the walls, covered in fish in various stages of being processed. The way out is back to the west.

A large group of women are at work gutting fish.

at you.

The smell of raw fish is almost overpowering.

A woman nearest the entrance looks up from her work. “Yes?” she
asks.
“Was there anything you wanted?”

(You could ask her about mad Meg, or ask her who she is.)
You ask her who she is
“And who might you be?” you inquire.

“I’m Jennifer Pascoe, Samuel Pascoe’s wife, if it’s any
business of
yours,” she replies.
You ask her about Meg
“Do you know anything about the woman they call ‘mad Meg’?” you inquire.

“Her?” she almost spits. “Oh, I knows about mad Meg all right.
Cuckoo in the nest, she were. Raised her as my own, I did, when her own mother didn’t want her. But her mother knew what she were doing when she got rid of her!”
Keep going
“Do you have something in particular against Meg?” you ask.

“Do I have something against her!” she laughs scornfully. “At
first I
thought she were just a little soft in the head. Couldn’t help that, not her fault, I thought, so I were kind to her. Then I learned better: she’s a witch.”
You continue
“Why do you think Meg’s a witch?” you want to know.

“Besides her saying all those strange things, and mixing all those strange potions, you mean?” she asks. “Besides her meddling with things best left alone? Well, it were what she did to my son that finally opened my eyes, that’s what.”
Continue
“What did Meg do to your son that so upset you?” you ask.

“She bewitched him, that’s what,” Jennifer Pascoe replies.
“Reckon
she bewitched my Sam a bit too, since he never saw through her. I
mean what she made him do – my son, I mean – it weren’t right,
and
it’s not as if she’s that pretty after all. Of course she lied
about
it afterwards, claimed my boy tried to rape her. I ask you! Calling my own boy a liar! Well, she couldn’t stay after that!”

The smell of raw fish is almost overpowering.
Keep going
“You think Meg seduced your son, and that makes her a witch?” you
ask
incredulously.

“Bewitched – she bewitched him,” Jennifer Pascoe replies. “But
it
didn’t end there. After we threw her out she cursed our land, and
year on year after that we watched it die as the blight took hold, until we were left with nothing. She’s a witch, all right. Ought to be burned at the stake by rights, just as Father Andrew says.”
You continue
with her. It’s clear she thinks Meg is a witch, partly because she thinks Meg bewitched her son into having sexual intercourse with her (so far as you can gather from her slightly confused account) but mainly because she thinks Meg cursed her husband’s land and brought
the blight upon it.
You ask her about the blight
“What can you tell me about the blight?” you ask.

“It destroyed us, that’s what!” she snaps. “A slow creeping
death,
bit by bit. It killed the land – you must know that – but it
nearly
killed us too, and I don’t just mean the near starvation. In the
last
year before we had to move out, we all felt sickly and weak – my hair even started to fall out. If we hadn’t gone when we did, we’d have ended up like the soil!”
You ask her about the blight
“So you think the blight drains the life-force out of everything?”
you
enquire.

“That’s just what it does,” she nods.
You ask her about the island
“Haven’t you got anything better to do than stand here asking me questions?” she asks sourly.
You ask her about the sword
“I can’t see any reason why I should tell you about that,” she
replies.
Topics
You could ask her about the blight, or herself, or tell her about her son.
You ask her about the blight
“Do you have any ideas what might have caused the blight?” you ask.

“I know exactly what caused it, it were that witch – mad Meg!”
she
declares. “The girl put a curse on our land, that’s what did it.
If
you don’t believe, just ask yourself this: why did the blight stop after destroying our farm – why was it only our land that was destroyed?”
You ask her about the blight
She’s already given you her opinion: she thinks the blight is the result of Meg cursing her husband’s land. She also thinks it drains the life-force out of everything.

The smell of raw fish is almost overpowering.
You ask her about her
“How long have you been working here for?” you ask.

“Depends what you mean,” she grunts. “If you mean today, then
since
dawn. If you mean in all, then it’s been about two years now, ever since we lost the farm.”
You ask her about her
“How do you enjoy the work here?” you enquire.

“It’s smelly and messy and I hate it,” she tells you, “but
it’s the
best I can get.”
You ask her about her
She’s already told you that she’s been working in the fish-house
for
two years and that she hates it.
You ask her about the son
“I think I’ve met your son, but not under the happiest of circumstances,” you say. “He was trying to rob Lady Inalda.”

“That’s a lie!” Jennifer Pascoe cries. “Or else you don’t
know your
arse from your elbow. My son wouldn’t do a thing like that.
You’ve
gone and muddled him with someone else, that’s what!”
You ask her about Ridge
“You’re just wasting my time with questions like that!” she
complains.
Smell fish
The smell of raw fish is almost overpowering.
You get the fish
You’re quite content to leave the fish to the women.
You describe your surroundings
as it does from the outside. A pair of long wooden benches run along the walls, covered in fish in various stages of being processed. The way out is back to the west.

A large group of women are at work gutting fish.

Jennifer Pascoe is standing here.

The smell of raw fish is almost overpowering.
You ask about Sam
“I’ve met your husband, just a little way down the beach mending
nets,” you tell her. “How is he coping, do you think?”

“How do you think he’s coping?” she retorts bitterly. “How
would you
cope if you lost everything and were reduced to working for a
pittance? Oh, he does his best – he always did his best – but his spirit is broke, poor man.”
You ask about Duke
“What do you think of the Duke?” you ask.

“He cares for no one but himself,” she replies, “except that
fancy
cousin of his – and he cares for her far too much, if you take my meaning.”
You ask about Inalda
She doesn’t seem to be very receptive to your attempts to tell her
what her son did to Lady Inalda.
You ask about Duke
She’s already told you that the Duke cares for no one but himself, except that he cares for his cousin far too much.
You go west
Jennifer Pascoe resumes sorting through her pile of fish.

The steep track from the north comes to an end at this bleak stone jetty, which is flanked by a large wooden building to the east and the beach stretching out along the bay to the west. The jetty juts just a short way out into the water, and both from the smell and from the
fish fragments lying about, obviously serves as a landing stage for
the island’s fishermen. No boats are tied up here at the moment, but there are several a short way out to sea in the bay.

It would be an exaggeration to say that the smell of rotting fish is overpowering, since you are not overpowered by it, but it is certainly inescapable.
Go west
The beach comes to an end at the stone jetty which lies just to the east. In the opposite direction the bay stretches off in a wide arc
to the northwest, while a narrow track runs up through a thicket to
the northeast. A little way out to sea is a fleet of fishing boats.
You look at fleet
A large, if motley, collection of boats stands out a short way from shore in the sea. The nets hanging over the sides of the nearest
boats make it quite obvious that they are engaged in fishing.
Clearly, not all the island’s fishermen are busily engaged in
drinking
the Red Dragon dry.
You go to the north-east
Leading down from the town to the north towards a stone jetty to the south, this steep track is little more than a well-trodden path along the edge of the barren scrubland that extends to the east. A narrow side-track runs off through a thicket to the southwest.
You go to the south-west
The beach comes to an end at the stone jetty which lies just to the east. In the opposite direction the bay stretches off in a wide arc
to the northwest, while a narrow track runs up through a thicket to
the northeast. A little way out to sea is a fleet of fishing boats.
You go northwest
The beach stretches away to both northwest and southeast from here,
its approximate mid-point. A short way to the north the ground climbs sharply up a hill, while out to sea a collection of fishing-boats is stretched out across the bay.

A small green toolbox lies on the beach beside a fishing net.

The small green toolbox contains a screwdriver.

Samuel Pascoe is sitting on the beach mending the net.
Go northwest
A steep cliff blocks the way north, and the sea lies to the west, but you can go up a hill to the east, while the beach continues to the southeast. Out to sea a collection of boats bob around fishing.
You look at boats
A large, if motley, collection of boats stands out a short way from shore in the sea. The nets hanging over the sides of the nearest
boats make it quite obvious that they are engaged in fishing.
Clearly, not all the island’s fishermen are busily engaged in
drinking
the Red Dragon dry.
You examine the cliff
The cliff is like a bony finger thrust out into the sea; more prosaically it’s a narrow rocky promontory that blocks the way north, too high and too steep to climb.
You go east
The summit of this low hill is fairly flat, and continues to the northwest. To the north, it descends quite rapidly into a hollow, while to south and east it slopes down towards the beach, and grass gives way to sand. To the east are the faint traces of the track
which become a street running back down towards the centre of the
town. Although you’re not that high up, you get a clear view over
the
sea from here, truncated by the ever-present mist.
You go east
This looks like the roughest part of town, with the road surface equally pitted up the hill to the west and down to the east. The cottages on either side of the street look more thrown together than built, being rough and tiny.
You go east
To the east the street is fairly level, but a short distance to the west it starts to climb a shallow hill. At this point the street runs between a small bakery to the north, and a narrow alley to the south.

The smell of baking bread wafts from the bakery.
Go south
This small back yard is walled in on all sides, although a narrow
alley runs off to the north, and the back door to the tavern lies
east. Next to the back door is the mouth of a chute, which is presumably to allow beer barrels to be rolled down into the cellar beneath.

Several barrels are stacked in a corner of the yard.
You examine the barrels
The barrels are stacked quite carefully, just a little way from the wall behind.
Search barrels
The barrels are stacked too high. You’d first have to dismantle the stack to get at one of the barrels, and that seems like far too much unnecesary labour.
You examine the chute
You can’t see very far into it; from here it’s just a dark hole;
but
it does look about the right size to roll in a large barrel on its side.
You climb the barrels
The barrels are stacked too high.
You enter the chute
It’s not really big enough, and you’re not sure how safe it would
be
if it was.
You look at the barrel
The barrels are stacked quite carefully, just a little way from the wall behind.
Unstack barrel
The word “unstack” is not necessary in this story.
You look in the barrel
The barrels are stacked too high. You’d first have to dismantle the stack to get at one of the barrels, and that seems like far too much unnecesary labour.
Go north
To the east the street is fairly level, but a short distance to the west it starts to climb a shallow hill. At this point the street runs between a small bakery to the north, and a narrow alley to the south.

The smell of baking bread wafts from the bakery.
Go south
This small back yard is walled in on all sides, although a narrow
alley runs off to the north, and the back door to the tavern lies
east. Next to the back door is the mouth of a chute, which is presumably to allow beer barrels to be rolled down into the cellar beneath.

Several barrels are stacked in a corner of the yard.
You go east
(first trying to open the back door)
The back door seems to be locked.
You examine the back door
It’s closed.
Go north
To the east the street is fairly level, but a short distance to the west it starts to climb a shallow hill. At this point the street runs between a small bakery to the north, and a narrow alley to the south.

The smell of baking bread wafts from the bakery.
Go north
It feels distinctly warm in here, even though only one of the ovens running along the rear wall is lit. No wares are on display: both the shelves against the east wall and the serving counter towards the rear are totally bare, apart from a light dusting of what could be traces either of flour or of sawdust. To the south lies the way out back to the street.

A baker is bent over one of the ovens, with his back to you.

There’s a strong smell of baking bread.
You talk to the baker
“Excuse me,” you say.

The baker turns to face you. “If ’tis bread th’art after,
th’art out
of luck,” he tells you. “This batch is all for the castle.”

(You could ask him about himself, or tell him about yourself.)
You ask about the bread
“You’re baking a batch of bread?” you surmise.

“That’s right,” he says, “for the castle. The Duke insists
that the
castle must come first, and I’m so short of flour... well, I’m so
short of flour I’d give a silver coin for a sackful now, I would.”
You ask about yourself
“Wait!” he interrupts you, sniffing the air. “Canst thou smell burning?” He turns round and fiddles with his oven for a couple of moments, before coming back to you having quite forgotten your question. “Apologies, sir; but I must not let this batch spoil.”
You ask about myself
He scratches his beard and begins, “Well, it’s like this, sir; or
maybe it’s more like that. The truth is...” he tales off as he
loses
the thread of his own thoughts.
You ask about ship
“What was your ship like?” you ask.

“Well, sir, I was the cook rather than the captain, if thou seest my meaning, so I cannot give thee every nautical detail, but she was a
new ship and a fast one, smaller than the Spaniards, and able to show them a clean pair of heels after snapping at them – and her cannon packed quite a bite!” he tells you.

There’s a strong smell of baking bread.
You ask about Spaniards
Alan Biddock scratches his beard in puzzlement.
You ask about the Castle
“Can you tell me anything about the castle?” you inquire.

“Maybe I can,” he answers, “and maybe I won’t.”.
You ask about the Castle
“What do you think about the castle?” you ask.

“What indeed?” he replies.
You ask about Duke
“What do you think of Duke William?” you ask.

“Like his father before him, he fancies himself a nobleman in the
grand style, not realizing how petty his demesne is, and how slight
his achievements,” Alan Biddock replies. “But though he be vain,
he
is not uncommon vicious.”
You ask about Meg
“Do you know anything about the woman they call mad Meg?” you ask.

“Well, they do say she’s a witch,” he replies, “and many there
are
that blame her for the blight. As for me, well, I hardly know her, only set eyes on her once or twice; she be comely enough, but strange too, I reckon.”
You ask about blight
“What do you know of the blight?” you ask.

“That it has made grain hard to come by,” he replies laconically.
You ask about smuggling
“So tell me, as one seaman to another, is there any sea-going
activity
of any sort round here – apart from fishing?” you ask.

“I know not what thou mean’st, sir,” he replies. “What kind of seafaring could there be, when thou canst not penetrate the mist? And there’s not many round here takes to boats for pleasure!”
Continue
“I had heard there were smugglers at work,” you tell him. “If
that’s
true then there must be some way through the mist.”

“Thou art right this far: there could be no one smuggling without getting through that stuff,” he agrees.

There’s a strong smell of baking bread.
You continue
“So, do you know of any smuggling round here?” you ask him.

“Now, what would I want with smugglers?” he retorts. “Joe Fanton
grows the corn, it gets ground in the mill, and I bake it into bread here, with no shortage of people willing to buy. There’s no
smuggling
in any of that – all home grown and home produced.”
You continue
“People often want more than bread,” you point out. “Maybe other things are brought in from the outside?”

“Maybe,” he replies. “Man shall not live by bread alone, as
Moses
tells us. But then I’m no busybody; I don’t go poking my nose into others’ affairs.”
You continue
You decide to drop the subject; if Alan Biddock knows anything about any smuggling he’s clearly not willing to tell you about it; about
the
only thing he’s possibly let slip is that anyone who is smuggling
would have to have found a way through the “enchanted” mist
that’s
keeping everyone else confined to the island.
You ask about the priest
“What do you make of Father Andrew?” you ask.

“A bit too Protestant for my taste,” he replies, “but then I
always
did prefer the old ways – not that I go along with the Pope sending
the Spaniards at us, thou understandest. This priest may be well-meaning but he is also – a trifle angular, shall we say.”
You ask about Julia
“What do you make of Julia Trelawney?” you ask. “I assume you
know
her?”

“Reckon about everyone on this island knows the Trelawneys,” he
tells
you. “Now, young Mistress Trelawney seems like one who knows her own mind, pleasant enough, but not to be dallied with lightly, I’d
say.”
You ask about Sally
“Do you know Sally Penhaligon?” you ask.

“The lass that keeps the shop? Yes I know her, well enough. Good enough woman, I reckon, but already spoken for,” he replies.
Topics
You could ask him about himself, or tell him about yourself.
You ask about himself
“So how long have you been on this island?” you ask.

“Ah – must be nigh on ten years now,” he replies, scratching his
beard. “We’d just fought a battle against a great Spanish fleet
– and
given those Dago papists a right drubbing! Philip’s beard was more than singed that time, I’ll wager!”
Go south
Alan Biddock gives you a curt nod and returns to his oven.

To the east the street is fairly level, but a short distance to the west it starts to climb a shallow hill. At this point the street runs between a small bakery to the north, and a narrow alley to the south.

The smell of baking bread wafts from the bakery.
You go to the east
This crossroads, at what may be the centre of the town, is formed by meeting of roads to north, south, east and west. All four roads lead between grim, grey buildings; the road to the east looks quite short, while that to the west leads up a distant hill. The roads to north
and south look as if they run on quite a way, but just a short way to the south you can see a hanging inn-sign.
Go north
The street is narrow here, barely wide enough for two people to pass, and looks just as narrow as it continues to north and south. An ancient stone chapel stands immediately to the east, opposite a
terrace of mean little cottages hugging the west side of the street.
Go north
A pair of granite cottages mark the northern edge of the town, the
bulk of which lies to the south. To the north the road crosses a
small stone bridge, while a wide path winds up the grassy hill to the west. The way east is barred by the impenetrable woodland behind the cottages.
You go north
The bridge is narrow, but in a reasonable state of repair apart from the parapet, which is starting to crumble in places. From the brow of the bridge you can see a stream racing eastwards to power a mill. To the south the road runs back into town, while to the north it turns into a farm-track.
You go north
This short length of farm track comes to an end at the narrow stone bridge just to the south and peters out into open country a short way north. Its main purpose seems to be to serve the large water-mill
that stands immediately to the east. On the opposite side of the
track a stream flows briskly past to the south before turning east under the bridge; beyond the stream lurks the bulk of Castle Hill, its face too steep to climb even if you could somehow cross the stream to reach it.
You go north
Ripe wheat sways gently in the breeze the length and breadth of this large level field. Some way off to the west lies a farmyard, while directly to the east stands a large wood. To the north the field eventually runs into open pasture; to the south, a rough farm track leads back towards the town.

A farmer is at work, harvesting the wheat with a scythe.
You talk to the farmer
“Hello, there!” you greet him.

“Hello,” he replies, a little suspiciously.

(You could ask him about the blight, himself, Meg, Cadan Pascoe, or smuggling, or tell him about yourself.)
You ask about himself
“And you are...?” you ask.

“Joe Fanton,” he tells you. “I own this farm – and run most of
it
myself!”
You tell Joe about yourself
“I’m Lieutenant James Corby, Royal Navy,” you introduce yourself.
“I
was washed ashore here this morning.”

“Washed ashore were you?” he replies. “Well, you weren’t the
first
and you won’t be the last.”
You ask about blight
“What can you tell me about the blight, Mr Fanton?” you ask.

“The blight?” he echoes scornfully. “Well, it ruined old Pascoe,
and
that’s for sure. Mercifully it hardly touched my land – reckon God must be smiling on me.”
Continue
“Do you have any ideas what the blight might be, or what caused
it?”
you inquire.

Joe Fanton shakes his head. “I never saw the likes of it before, I
can tell you that. At first we thought it was hard winters, but it affected Pascoe’s crops more’an mine, and that made no sense. Then
we
thought his crops had got some kind o’ plant disease, so we called it the blight. But it’s pretty obviously the soil that’s sick, like
it’s
had all the goodness drained out of it, and I can’t think of anything that would do that.”
You ask about Cadan
“Do you know Cadan Pascoe?” you ask.

“Of course I know Cadan Pascoe,” he replies. “His father Sam was
my
neighbour till the blight came.”
You ask about Cadan
“What’s your opinion of Cadan Pascoe?” you inquire.

“A bit of a wild lad, but hard-working enough,” he tells you.
“He
always pulled his weight on his father’s farm – looked forward to running it himself one day, I’ll be bound. I think he took it even harder than his parents when the blight drove them off. But I don’t feel that sorry for him, to be honest; I never really took to him, see – there’s something not right about him.”
You ask about Cadan
“Did you know Cadan Pascoe attacked Lady Inalda earlier today?” you ask.

“Did he now?” Joe Fanton declares. “I always thought he had a
wild
streak in him, but I never thought he’d go that far!”
You ask about Cadan
He’s already told you that he considers Cadan Pascoe to be hard-working; he pulled his weight on his father’s farm, and probably looked forward to running it himself one day; he took it even harder than his parents when the blight forced them to leave. Joe Fanton thinks Cadan Pascoe has a wild streak, but was surprised to learn that he’s gone as far as attacking Lady Inalda. But even before you told Joe Fanton about the attack on Lady Inalda he said he thought there
was something not quite right about Cadan.
Topics
You could ask him about the blight, himself, Meg, or smuggling.
You ask about the blight
“Could the source of the blight be over the far side of the Ridge?”
you ask.

“Could be,” he allows. “No one knows what’s there, do they?
But then
that’s just explaining one mystery by another, seems to me.”
You ask about blight
Joe Fanton has probably told you as much about the blight as he can:
he says it ruined Pascoe’s land but spared his, that it at first
seemed like a crop disease but turned out to be a sickness of the
soil, with all the goodness being drained out of it. He can’t think
of anything that would have that effect.
You ask about himself
“And have you lived here all your life, Mr Fanton?” you inquire.

“That’s right,” he tells you. “I inherited this farm from my
father,
as he did from his.”
You ask about Meg
“Do you know Meg – the one they call mad Meg?” you ask.

“I see her from time to time,” he tells you. “She keeps herself
to
herself mostly, and that’s fine by me, after all she’s a – well,
she
may be, you know what people say.”
You ask about Meg
“What do people say about Meg?” you ask.

“Well, some say she’s a healer, and others say she’s a witch.
Not
that I understand these things, mind, but it never hurts to be too careful!” he replies.
You ask about Meg
“Have you ever known Meg do any witch-like things, like casting spells?” you ask.

“Well – no, but then I’m not sure I’d know a witch’s spell if
I saw
one,” he confesses, “but she is mighty strange, that I can tell
you.
It’s not natural for a young woman to live all her own in a wood, keeping out of folks’ way. And the way she’s been spending her
time
lately – well!” he shakes his head.
You ask about Meg
“How has Meg been spending her time lately?” you ask.

“Up at Pascoe’s farm – or what’s left of it,” he tells you.
“I know
she was raised there, and I know she left under a cloud, but there’s nothing left there now but dead soil and dust, so what she can be spending all that time there for...” he shakes his head and sighs, “Well, it seems mighty strange to me, but I often see her go up that way.”
You ask about Meg
You can’t think of anything else to ask him about her right now:
he’s
told you that some think her a witch, and some a healer, and though he doesn’t know one way or the other, he feels it best to play safe and stay clear of her. He’s never seen Meg cast a spell or do anything obviously witch-like, but then he’s not sure he’d recognize it if
he
did. He does think her rather odd, both because she lives all alone
in the wood, and because she’s spending a lot of time up at
Pascoe’s
farm, even though there’s nothing left there now but a barren waste.
You tell about Meg
“Maybe you can tell me about that when I haven’t got a field of
ripe
wheat to harvest,” he suggests.
You tell about yourself
You’ve already introduced yourself, and you don’t get the
impression
that Joe Fanton wants to hear your life story right now.
You ask about the smuggling
“I don’t suppose you know anything about any smuggling that’s
meant to
be going on round here,” you ask.

“I might, and then again I might not,” he replies warily.
You ask about the smuggling
He’s clearly not going to say anything on that subject until you win his confidence.
Topics
You could ask him about himself.
You ask Joe about Joe
“You must be quite busy here,” you remark.

“That I am,” he nods, in a tone of voice that almost implies,
“too
busy to be wasting time chatting with the likes of you.”
You ask about the mill
“Does anyone use the mill?” you ask. “It looked deserted when I visited it earlier!”

“That’s probably because the miller has virtually no grain left to
mill until I get the harvest in,” Joe Fanton explains, “so
there’s not
much for him to do there. He also has a boat, so he’s probably out fishing.”
You ask about himself
He’s already told you that his name is Joe Fanton and that he
inherited this farm from his father, who inherited it from
his father.
Topics
Fanton.
You ask about the wheat
“Will you have a good grain harvest this year, do you think?” you
ask.

“Good enough,” he replies. “At least, good enough for normal
times –
enough to feed half the island, give or take. Not enough to make up for the lack of Pascoe’s grain, though.”
Keep going
He’s already told you he expects a reasonable grain harvest, but not enough to make up the shortfall due to the loss of Pascoe’s land.
You examine the wheat
Ripe wheat sways gently in the breeze the length and breadth of this large level field. Some way off to the west lies a farmyard, while directly to the east stands a large wood. To the north the field eventually runs into open pasture; to the south, a rough farm track leads back towards the town.

Joe Fanton is resting on his scythe, waiting for you to speak.
You ask about the scythe
“Is there any chance you could tell me about...” you start.

“Is there any chance folks’ll let me alone long enough to get the harvest in before people here start starving?” he interrupts.
You ask about the harvest
He’s already told you he expects a reasonable grain harvest, but not enough to make up the shortfall due to the loss of Pascoe’s land.
You go to the west
Joe Fanton resumes his reaping.

The yard is an expanse of dried mud open to the east, but enclosed on the other three sides. To the west stands a large old farmhouse,
while an equally antiquated barn lies to the south. A thick hedgerow runs along the north side, but a wooden gate half-way along allows access through.
You check your inventory
You are carrying a plain brass key, a flint, a brass lamp, a bunch of flowers, a small gold ear-ring, and an old sheet of parchment.

The flowers have quite a sweet, delicate scent.
You examine the barn
It’s a large wooden building, standing tall on the south side of the yard, which has been weathered almost black.
You look at the farmhouse
The large, weathered farmhouse looks as if it has stood there for many years; it also looks like it should make a much more comfortable
family home than most of the cottages in town.
You go to the south
Apart from a row of wooden casks along the south wall the barn seems strangely empty; presumably it’ll fill up more after the harvest, but right now it’s just a large empty space, about forty feet long by fifteen wide. The only way out is through the door to the north.

A long wooden ladder leans against a wall.
You drink the ale
You can’t do that to a smell of fermenting ale.
You look in the cask
There’s no reason to disturb them.
You take ladder
Taken.
You climb the ladder
(first dropping the ladder)
Okay, you’re now standing on the ladder.
Go outside
(off the ladder)
Okay, you’re no longer on the ladder.
You get the ladder
Taken.
You go north
The yard is an expanse of dried mud open to the east, but enclosed on the other three sides. To the west stands a large old farmhouse,
while an equally antiquated barn lies to the south. A thick hedgerow runs along the north side, but a wooden gate half-way along allows access through.

Joe Fanton enters from the east. “Hello,” you say.

In reply, Joe Fanton merely grunts.

“And just where do you think you’re going with that there ladder,
young man?” he demands. “Put it back where you found it!”
You ask Joe about the ladder
“Is there any chance I could borrow your ladder for a short while, please?” you ask.

He eyes you suspiciously, and for a moment you think he’s either
going
to refuse right out or ask you to do a day’s reaping in return, but instead he replies, “My little girl is sick with fever. If you can find a cure for her, I’ll let you borrow my ladder.”
You ask Joe about the girl
“What exactly is the matter with your daughter?” you ask.

“Like I said, she has a fever,” he tells you. “It came on
yesterday,
and it seems terrible fierce. She can’t eat a thing and she’s been moaning like a wild thing all night. My wife’s doing all she can to nurse her, but she’s getting no better. We’re both worried out of
our
wits – but I must get the harvest in, the whole island’s depending
on
it, so what can I do? So it would take a huge weight off my mind if someone would cure her.”
You ask Joe about the girl
“Why do you think I can help?” you ask.

“Because you’re here and you want something in return,” he
replies.
You go north
(first opening the gate)
Joe Fanton blocks your path, making a vaguely threatening gesture with his scythe. “You’re not going anywhere till you put my ladder back where you found it,” he tells you.
You go south
Joe Fanton watches you depart.

Apart from a row of wooden casks along the south wall the barn seems strangely empty; presumably it’ll fill up more after the harvest, but right now it’s just a large empty space, about forty feet long by fifteen wide. The only way out is through the door to the north.
You drop the ladder
Dropped.
You go north
The yard is an expanse of dried mud open to the east, but enclosed on the other three sides. To the west stands a large old farmhouse,
while an equally antiquated barn lies to the south. A thick hedgerow runs along the north side, but a wooden gate half-way along allows access through.

you suspiciously.
Go north
At a rough estimate this field must be a couple of acres. It is completely enclosed by hedgerows – presumably to keep the cattle in
–
but there are gates through the hedges to north, south, east and west. Lush grass covers the ground, which is pretty much flat.

A herd of cows is gathered at one end of the field.

You make sure to close the gate behind you.
You examine the cows
You’ve spent too much of your life at sea to be any kind of expert on cattle, so you’ve no way of identifying the breed. It does occur to you, however, that if the island is kept stocked with cows there must be a bull or two around, so although these cows look placid enough,
you think it best not to interfere with them.
Moo
The word “moo” is not necessary in this story.
Tip cow
The story doesn’t understand that command.
You go east
(first opening the east gate)

You’re not sure that this pasture is actually four acres, but that seems about right and you like the sound of it, so that’s what you decide to call it. The pasture is open to north and south, but is bounded by a hedgerow to the west and a forest to the east. A track leads eastwards into the forest while a wooden gate allows passage
west through the hedgerow.

A flock of sheep is grazing here.

A young shepherd is wandering round the field, tending to the sheep.

You make sure to close the gate behind you.

One of the sheep wanders to a new patch of grass. The others follow.
Baa
The word “baa” is not necessary in this story.
You talk to the shepherd
Every time you approach him to speak with him, the young shepherd retreats to the opposite side of the field.
You look at the shepherd
He looks very young, little more than a boy, with a tousled mop of brown hair.
You examine the sheep
They look every bit as white and woolly as you would expect.

Some of the sheep move a little way across the field.
You examine the gate
It’s just a plain five-barred wooden gate. It’s closed.
Go east
This narrow track is in some danger of becoming overgrown. It is
still possible to follow the track to east or west, but it would be quite impossible to proceed in any other direction.
Go east
The main path leads north and south through the forest; it’s easily wide enough for three or four people to walk abreast. A much narrower track runs off to the west, so overgrown that it would be quite easy
to miss. An equally narrow track sneaks off to the east.
Go south
This sizeable clearing, roughly oval in shape, is situated at the junction of several paths leading to north, south, west, northeast and southeast. At the centre of the clearing stands a large wooden hut, which can be entered to the east.
You enter the hut
(first trying to open the door)
The door seems to be locked.
You knock on the door
You knock on the door but no one answers.
You examine the hut
It’s a single-storey building of reasonably solid construction, a little under twenty feet long and ten deep.
You go west
This part of the wood feels shaded almost to the point of being claustrophobic; the trees round about grow so densely together that
the only viable options for travel are to follow the path east or
west.
Go west
Ripe wheat sways gently in the breeze the length and breadth of this large level field. Some way off to the west lies a farmyard, while directly to the east stands a large wood. To the north the field eventually runs into open pasture; to the south, a rough farm track leads back towards the town.

Joe Fanton is at work, harvesting the wheat with a scythe.
You go east
This part of the wood feels shaded almost to the point of being claustrophobic; the trees round about grow so densely together that
the only viable options for travel are to follow the path east or
west.
Go east
This sizeable clearing, roughly oval in shape, is situated at the junction of several paths leading to north, south, west, northeast and southeast. At the centre of the clearing stands a large wooden hut, which can be entered to the east.
Go south
area, so presumably it was once planned as an orchard, although it now seems more like a southern extension of the wood. It is perhaps the spread of undergrowth that creates the impression of a gradual return to nature; although sporadic attempts have been made to clear it to ease access to the trees, elsewhere it grows thick, tangled and impenetrable, with the result that though the trees are widely spaced you can only go through them to north, south or east.
You examine the trees
The trees here are laden with apples ripe for picking.
You get the apple
The apples are out of reach.
You climb the tree
The last time you tried climbing something that tall and upright it ended in disaster; you’re in no hurry to repeat the experience.
You go south
The stream runs swiftly by towards the east, racing away from the
large mill, the back end of which effectively blocks your path west.
A short way back from the stream to the north lies a large orchard –
or at least, a large number of apple trees forming the southern end of the wood. You can follow the bank a short way to the east, but only until the stream begins plunging down its final descent into the sea, so you will effectively be diverted to the northeast.
You examine the stream
(the stream)
The stream descends a sharp fall to the west, and then continues to race eastward. It’s too wide to cross, being almost large enough to count as a small river.
Drink water
You kneel down by the water’s edge and cup a handful of water from
the
stream. It tastes cool and fresh.
Go northeast
This part of the cliff is some way above the sea; it is thus also some way above the large bay directly to the south, and there seems to be
no way down into that bay from here. Instead you can skirt the bay to the southwest, or continue northwards along the cliff top. There are also paths running into the wood to west and northwest.
Go northwest
This sizeable clearing, roughly oval in shape, is situated at the junction of several paths leading to north, south, west, northeast and southeast. At the centre of the clearing stands a large wooden hut, which can be entered to the east.
Go northeast
The main path runs north-south along the cliff top, affording an excellent view of the sea all the way. Other paths run west and southwest into the woods.
You go south
This part of the cliff is some way above the sea; it is thus also some way above the large bay directly to the south, and there seems to be
no way down into that bay from here. Instead you can skirt the bay to the southwest, or continue northwards along the cliff top. There are also paths running into the wood to west and northwest.
Go north
The main path runs north-south along the cliff top, affording an excellent view of the sea all the way. Other paths run west and southwest into the woods.
Go north
The sand on this beach looks as dead as the dusty soil inland to the west. The northern end of the beach is blocked by the mountain range, the eastern end of which juts out into the sea; to the south, however, the cliff is accessible via a gentle slope.
Go west
This must once have been part of the forest that you can see to the south, but this section is now dead. Lifeless stumps protrude from
the sickly soil, surrounded by fallen trunks and branches, all alike leeched a pale grey as if turned to ash by some terrible fire. But there are no scorch marks or other signs of burning, so you’re sure
no
flames caused this. The ground has been half cleared, perhaps with
the most usable of the dead wood taken for kindling, but there’s been no systematic attempt to clear the area; given the sorry state of the soil there’d be no point. The barren land continues to east and
west,
while a path leads due south into the still living forest.
You examine the stumps
The barren stumps, which are starting to rot, are all that’s left of the trees that once grew here. It looks as if most of the trees may have been cut down to salvage the wood from them before the blight rendered them useless.
You go to the west
The barren wasteland continues to east and west, hemmed in between the mountain range to the north and dense forest to the south.
Immediately to the north is the entrance to an old mine. The only possible way up the mountain would be via the foothills to the northwest.
Go west
If anything once grew here there’s no sign of it now; the barren, desolate ground stretches as far as you can see to east and west, although there’s a grassy pasture some way off to the south. To the north lie the foothills of a ridge of tall mountains running east-west across the island.
Go south
The pasture is open to north and south, but is bounded by a hedgerow
to the west and a forest to the east. A track leads eastwards into
the forest while a wooden gate allows passage west through the hedgerow.

A flock of sheep is grazing here.

The young shepherd is wandering round the field, tending to the sheep.
You go to the north
If anything once grew here there’s no sign of it now; the barren, desolate ground stretches as far as you can see to east and west, although there’s a grassy pasture some way off to the south. To the north lie the foothills of a ridge of tall mountains running east-west across the island.
Go west
This was obviously the centre of what was once a farm; an abandoned farmhouse stands on the north side of this patch of barren wasteland (which continues for many furlongs to east and west). Some way off to the south a wooden gate allows access through a sickly hedgerow.
Go west
There is total desolation here: nothing but dead, grey soil all across the flat landscape, finally merging with a marsh to the north. Some way to the east lies a derelict farmhouse, while to the west the land slopes down into a small bay. The only signs of living vegetation are off in the far distance to the south.

A strange woman is busily studying the ground.
You examine the woman
Her precise age is hard to judge, she could be in her twenties or thirties. Her face is round but not unattractive, and her figure is not too plump, but her most striking feature is the mass of frizzy mouse-coloured hair that tumbles over her shoulders and most of the
way down her back.
You talk to the woman
“Hello there,” you say.

“Hello, I’m Meg,” she introduces herself, “and yes, before you
ask,
I’m the one they call ‘mad Meg’, but I hope you’ll make up your
own
mind about my sanity.”

(You could ask her about the blight, the island, herself, or Cadan Pascoe, ask her what she’s doing, or tell her about Joe Fanton’s daughter, yourself, or the priest.)
You tell her about yourself
“My name’s James Corby, by the way,” you say. “Lieutenant
James
Corby, of His Britannic Majesty’s frigate Niobe.”

“Sounds like a bit of a mouthful to me,” she complains, “so
I’ll just
call you James and you can call me Meg.”
You ask her about her
“Tell me about yourself, Meg,” you say.

“What would you like to know?” she smiles lightly. “Well – I
live by
myself in a hut in the woods, so people think me strange. I’ve
learned how to use a few herbs for healing, so people call me a witch. And – well, maybe I don’t always see things the way most people
seem
to.”
Continue
“Are you happy, living all by yourself in the wood, or do you get lonely?” you wonder.

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” she replies.
Keep going
“How do you come to be living all by yourself, away from the town?”
you want to know.

“It suits me, and it suits the townsfolk,” she shrugs. “We get
on
better at a distance.”
Keep going
“Don’t you have any family?” you inquire.

“None to speak of,” she tells you. “I have no husband or
children if
that’s what you mean, and I was born out of wedlock. My father never acknowledged me, and my mother – well, both my parents are dead
now.”
Continue
She’s already told you as much as she wants to for now: she lives
alone in the woods, but people come to her for simple healing with herbs. She has no family to speak of since she was born out of
wedlock and her parents are both dead.
You ask about the herbs
“Meg, what do you know about...?” you try to ask.

“Not now,” she stops you with a shake of the head.
You tell meg about the fever
“I’ve just been talking to Joe Fanton,” you tell her, “He’s
very
worried about his little girl. Apparently she has a high fever – he asked me to cure her, but I wouldn’t know where to start!”

“And you think I might,” she surmises. “I might at that. I
imagine
he hoped you’d come to me – he just didn’t want to make a direct approach himself, because I have a reputation as a – well. I think I can mix a little something that should cure her, but not till I get home. And there’s something I’d like you to do for me first; will
you
do that?”

(You could say yes or no, or ask what she wants you to do.)
You ask what
“What do you want me to do?” you ask.

“Collect some more seaweed,” she replies briskly. “The best
place is
the shore just to the west of here. I’m sure the seaweed is doing
some good, but I could do with another pair of hands. Will you do
that for me?”
Yes
“Sure – why not?” you agree.

“Really?” she replies. “You do surprise me! I thought – well,
never
mind what I thought, it doesn’t really matter unless and until I see you come back with an armful of seaweed!”
You check your inventory
You are carrying a plain brass key, a flint, a brass lamp, a bunch of flowers, a small gold ear-ring, and an old sheet of parchment.

The flowers have quite a sweet, delicate scent.
You give the flowers to Meg
“You promised you’d bring me some seaweed,” she reminds you.
“Prove
to me that you’re a man of your word!”
You go west
“Goodbye!” she calls after you, before returning to her inspection
of
the ground.

The water lapping the sand seems to be the only thing moving here;
just about everything else is as dead as the wasteland lying directly east, unless you count the few feeble strands of seaweed dying on the rocks. To the northeast the bay ends in a treacherous-looking marsh, while to the south it is bounded by a cliff jutting out into the sea. The slope up to the cliff-top looks a relatively easy climb.

The odour of rotting seaweed assaults your nostrils.
You get the seaweed
Those few pathetic strands of dying weed are obviously not worth bothering with. Meg must want more seaweed than that.
You look at the cliff
The cliff enclosing the southern end of the beach juts out into the sea; the slope leading up to the top of the cliff looks easy to climb.

The odour of rotting seaweed assaults your nostrils.
Smell
The flowers have quite a sweet, delicate scent.

The odour of rotting seaweed assaults your nostrils.

You’ve spent enough of your life at sea scarcely to notice how it smells usually, but this sea smells distinctive, and somehow
wrong. It’s hard to put your finger on it precisely: it
smells salty as you would expect, but there’s something else, the
kind
of sharp, bitter smell – almost a taste – that you’d associate
with a
brewing thunderstorm were there any other sign of a storm brewing, but there isn’t, and even then it’s not quite that smell
either.
Your eyes are drawn to the mist a few hundred yards out from shore, as if sensing that that is somehow to blame.
You go south
You scramble up the slope and arrive at the cliff-top.

the large field of barley lying directly to the east, no attempt has been made to cultivate this broad stretch of land at the top of the cliff, and it has instead been left to wild grass and weeds. To a first approximation this clifftop is a semicircle overlooking the sea to the west and small bays to north and south, both of which look accessible down reasonably gentle slopes.
Go south
High cliffs hem in this cove on every side except the west, which is open to the sea. To south and east the cliffs are too steep to climb, but the slope up to the north cliff looks gentler. There’s also a narrow cave entrance to the southeast.

A mass of slimy green seaweed lies on the shore.
You get the seaweed
You pick up a few pieces of the nasty stuff, but find you can’t bear
to hang on to it, let alone pick up a large pile to carry away with your bare hands; in any case, it would be too awkward to carry like that.
You search the seaweed
You can’t see anything in the seaweed.
About yourself
You look a bit bedraggled from your watery misadventure, but otherwise unscathed. But then you’re young and healthy, with a complexion
tanned by years at sea.

You are carrying a plain brass key, a flint, a brass lamp, a bunch of flowers, a small gold ear-ring, and an old sheet of parchment.

The flowers have quite a sweet, delicate scent.
You remove the pants
The word “pants” is not necessary in this story.
Go southeast
Cave (in the dark)
You can’t see much in here, apart from the cave exit to the
northwest,
but the space feels confined.
Light lamp
(with the flint)
You light the lamp by striking a spark from the flint.

'Cave' is almost an exaggeration; this space is little more than a hollow in the rock with barely enough room to stand. It’s not quite true to say that you could touch opposite walls of the cave with arms outstretched, but it’s not far from the truth. The way back out is
to
the northwest, while a narrow tunnel at the rear of the cave runs off to the southeast.

The lamp starts to flicker.
You go southeast
You daren’t go exploring any further in the dark with a lamp that
might go out at any moment.

The lamp grows dim.
Extinguish the lamp
You douse the lamp.

It takes a moment or two for your eyes to adjust to the poor light.
You go to the north-west
High cliffs hem in this cove on every side except the west, which is open to the sea. To south and east the cliffs are too steep to climb, but the slope up to the north cliff looks gentler. There’s also a narrow cave entrance to the southeast.

A mass of slimy green seaweed lies on the shore.
Go north
the large field of barley lying directly to the east, no attempt has been made to cultivate this broad stretch of land at the top of the cliff, and it has instead been left to wild grass and weeds. To a first approximation this clifftop is a semicircle overlooking the sea to the west and small bays to north and south, both of which look accessible down reasonably gentle slopes.
Go east
You’re no farmer, but it looks to you as if the barley is starting to ripen. The field is bounded by hedgerows to east, south, and north, but the northern hedgerow has almost died away to nothing, and no longer forms a barrier to progress north, while a wooden gate allows access to the east. To the west the field carries on towards a cliff.
Go north
There is total desolation here: nothing but dead, grey soil all across the flat landscape, finally merging with a marsh to the north. Some way to the east lies a derelict farmhouse, while to the west the land slopes down into a small bay. The only signs of living vegetation are off in the far distance to the south.

Meg is busily studying the ground.
You go to the north
There may be a way through the marsh, but you’re not sure, and
you’re
afraid there may be hidden quicksand.
Topics
You could ask her about the blight, seaweed, the island, or Cadan Pascoe, ask her what she’s doing, or tell her about yourself, or the priest.
You ask meg about the seaweed
“Hello again,” you greet her.

“Hello again, James,” she replies.

“Where did you say I could find some seaweed?” you ask.

“In the bay just to the west,” she tells you. “You should find
plenty
washed up on the shore.”
You ask meg about blight
“How about you go and bring me some seaweed before we discuss
that?”
she suggests.
You ask what she's doing
“All talk and no action?” she asks. “There’s a little task you
agreed
to do for me, remember?”
You go to the east
“Goodbye!” she calls after you, before returning to her inspection
of
the ground.

This was obviously the centre of what was once a farm; an abandoned farmhouse stands on the north side of this patch of barren wasteland (which continues for many furlongs to east and west). Some way off to the south a wooden gate allows access through a sickly hedgerow.
You go east
If anything once grew here there’s no sign of it now; the barren, desolate ground stretches as far as you can see to east and west, although there’s a grassy pasture some way off to the south. To the north lie the foothills of a ridge of tall mountains running east-west across the island.
Go north
These foothills are not particularly high, but they rise well above
the level of the vast barren plain to the south. Compared with the mountain range to the north they are mere molehills, however. The mountains look as if they would be exceedingly hard to climb, and there’s no way you could attack the face immediately to the north,
but
there are possible ways up to northeast and northwest; alternatively you can return to the plain to the south or southeast.
You go to the northwest
Clear above the foothills below, you can see straight across the plain to Castle Hill. The path slopes down the barren mountainside to the southeast, but branches up to northeast and northwest.
Go northwest
The ledge tapers down to almost nothing here, although you could move along it to the east. You could also either climb up the path to the northeast or descend down to the southeast. The view over the plain below is quite stunning, but you’d appreciate it more if you didn’t find it so vertigo-inducing.
You go east
The narrow ledge continues to east and west; its centre affords a breathtaking view over the plain below. From here it is possible to descend the mountain to the southeast or southwest, and although it’s very steep, it also looks possible to climb higher up to the north.
Go north
The higher you climb this section of slope, the steeper it becomes, until it becomes so sheer that only an expert mountaineer would be willing to attempt it, and you don’t even consider yourself an
inexpert mountaineer. So from here there’s nothing to do but admire the view or go back down, which looks possible both down the
alarmingly steep slope to the south or the rather gentler path to the southwest.
You look at the view
The northern end of the plain is a grey barren waste, almost featureless apart from an abandoned farmhouse. Further to the southwest lie the neat square fields of a still working farm, opposite a band of dark green woodland to the southeast. Beyond the woodland you can just make out parts of a stream and a tiny building that must be the mill. In the far distance Castle Hill rises up out of the
plain to dominate the southern part of the island. From this great height you can just make out the castle complex on top of the hill.
Go southwest
The ledge tapers down to almost nothing here, although you could move along it to the east. You could also either climb up the path to the northeast or descend down to the southeast. The view over the plain below is quite stunning, but you’d appreciate it more if you didn’t find it so vertigo-inducing.
You go east
The narrow ledge continues to east and west; its centre affords a breathtaking view over the plain below. From here it is possible to descend the mountain to the southeast or southwest, and although it’s very steep, it also looks possible to climb higher up to the north.
You go east
At this point the ledge becomes enclosed by rock walls to north,
south, and east. There’s no way up from here, but a narrow cave entrance leads through the eastern rock wall, and an equally narrow funnel offers a way down to the southwest through the southern one.
The ledge continues to the west.
You go southwest
The path climbs steeply up from the southwest and affords a stunning view over the plain below. It continues up through a narrow funnel to the northeast, while a second path climbs up to the northwest.
You go northeast
With some difficulty, you manage to clamber up through the funnel, and find yourselve emerging onto the end of a ledge.

This section of ledge is enclosed by rock walls to north, south, and east. There’s no way up from here, but a narrow cave entrance leads through the eastern rock wall, and an equally narrow funnel offers a way down to the southwest through the southern one. The ledge continues to the west.
You go east
Cave (in poor light)
You sense that this cave is a fair size, but about the only thing you can see is the exit out to the west.
Go west
This section of ledge is enclosed by rock walls to north, south, and east. There’s no way up from here, but the narrow cave entrance from which you’ve just emerged leads through the eastern rock wall, and an equally narrow funnel offers a way down to the southwest through the southern one. The ledge continues to the west.
You go southwest
The path climbs steeply up from the southwest and affords a stunning view over the plain below. It continues up through a narrow funnel to the northeast, while a second path climbs up to the northwest.
Go southwest
These foothills are not particularly high, but they rise well above
the level of the vast barren plain to the south. Compared with the mountain range to the north they are mere molehills, however. The mountains look as if they would be exceedingly hard to climb, and there’s no way you could attack the face immediately to the north,
but
there are possible ways up to northeast and northwest; alternatively you can return to the plain to the south or southeast.
Go southeast
The barren wasteland continues to east and west, hemmed in between the mountain range to the north and dense forest to the south.
Immediately to the north is the entrance to an old mine. The only possible way up the mountain would be via the foothills to the northwest.
Go north
Mine Entrance (in poor light)
The light from the entrance to the south doesn’t penetrate far into
the mine; to the north lies only darkness.
You go south
The barren wasteland continues to east and west, hemmed in between the mountain range to the north and dense forest to the south.
Immediately to the north is the entrance to an old mine. The only possible way up the mountain would be via the foothills to the northwest.
Go west
If anything once grew here there’s no sign of it now; the barren, desolate ground stretches as far as you can see to east and west, although there’s a grassy pasture some way off to the south. To the north lie the foothills of a ridge of tall mountains running east-west across the island.
Go south
The pasture is open to north and south, but is bounded by a hedgerow
to the west and a forest to the east. A track leads eastwards into
the forest while a wooden gate allows passage west through the hedgerow.

A flock of sheep is grazing here.

The young shepherd is wandering round the field, tending to the sheep.
You go south
Ripe wheat sways gently in the breeze the length and breadth of this large level field. Some way off to the west lies a farmyard, while directly to the east stands a large wood. To the north the field eventually runs into open pasture; to the south, a rough farm track leads back towards the town.

Joe Fanton is at work, harvesting the wheat with a scythe.

Joe Fanton advances to a new patch of ground and starts reaping there.
You go west
The yard is an expanse of dried mud open to the east, but enclosed on the other three sides. To the west stands a large old farmhouse,
while an equally antiquated barn lies to the south. A thick hedgerow runs along the north side, but a wooden gate half-way along allows access through.
You go north
(first opening the gate)

At a rough estimate this field must be a couple of acres. It is completely enclosed by hedgerows – presumably to keep the cattle in
–
but there are gates through the hedges to north, south, east and west. Lush grass covers the ground, which is pretty much flat.

A herd of cows is gathered at one end of the field.

You make sure to close the gate behind you.
You go north
(first opening the north gate)

This was obviously the centre of what was once a farm; an abandoned farmhouse stands on the north side of this patch of barren wasteland (which continues for many furlongs to east and west). Some way off to the south a wooden gate allows access through a sickly hedgerow.

You make sure to close the gate behind you.
Go north
It doesn’t look safe to go inside; the floorboards could well be
rotten and the ceilings ready to collapse.
Go south
(first opening the gate)

At a rough estimate this field must be a couple of acres. It is completely enclosed by hedgerows – presumably to keep the cattle in
–
but there are gates through the hedges to north, south, east and west. Lush grass covers the ground, which is pretty much flat.

A herd of cows is gathered at one end of the field.

You make sure to close the gate behind you.
Go south
(first opening the south gate)

The yard is an expanse of dried mud open to the east, but enclosed on the other three sides. To the west stands a large old farmhouse,
while an equally antiquated barn lies to the south. A thick hedgerow runs along the north side, but a wooden gate half-way along allows access through.

You make sure to close the gate behind you.
Go east
Ripe wheat sways gently in the breeze the length and breadth of this large level field. Some way off to the west lies a farmyard, while directly to the east stands a large wood. To the north the field eventually runs into open pasture; to the south, a rough farm track leads back towards the town.

Joe Fanton is at work, harvesting the wheat with a scythe.
Go south
This short length of farm track comes to an end at the narrow stone bridge just to the south and peters out into open country a short way north. Its main purpose seems to be to serve the large water-mill
that stands immediately to the east. On the opposite side of the
track a stream flows briskly past to the south before turning east under the bridge; beyond the stream lurks the bulk of Castle Hill, its face too steep to climb even if you could somehow cross the stream to reach it.
You go to the south
The bridge is narrow, but in a reasonable state of repair apart from the parapet, which is starting to crumble in places. From the brow of the bridge you can see a stream racing eastwards to power a mill. To the south the road runs back into town, while to the north it turns into a farm-track.
You go south
A pair of granite cottages mark the northern edge of the town, the
bulk of which lies to the south. To the north the road crosses a
small stone bridge, while a wide path winds up the grassy hill to the west. The way east is barred by the impenetrable woodland behind the cottages.
Go south
The street is narrow here, barely wide enough for two people to pass, and looks just as narrow as it continues to north and south. An ancient stone chapel stands immediately to the east, opposite a
terrace of mean little cottages hugging the west side of the street.
You go to the south
This crossroads, at what may be the centre of the town, is formed by meeting of roads to north, south, east and west. All four roads lead between grim, grey buildings; the road to the east looks quite short, while that to the west leads up a distant hill. The roads to north
and south look as if they run on quite a way, but just a short way to the south you can see a hanging inn-sign.

A furiously barking little dog comes yapping up to you, then
disappears off to the south.
You go east
The main path continues to east and west as far as you can see, rising slightly to the latter as it heads inland. A long hedge blocks the
way south, but just at this point of the path a rutted track runs off to the north.
Go north
Although it seems to be no longer in use, this looks like it could be the source of much of the local building materials. One effect of the quarrying is that you have ended up in a deep dip from which the only practicable ways out are back up the rutted track to the south, or
else up the steep path to the northeast.

A flat square stone lies on the ground, perhaps as a remnant of the quarrying operations.
You examine the stone
It’s roughly square, about two inches thick and six inches to a side.
You get it
Taken.
You examine it
It’s roughly square, about two inches thick and six inches to a side.
You go northeast
To the east the sea stretches out as far as you can see – which is
only as far as the bank of mist. To north and south the ground falls away too sharply to be negotiated by human beings; a large bay lies to the north, with a stream running into it from the west, while directly to the south is a small cove. A steep path leads down into the quarry to the southwest, while a broad trail leads to the northwest.
You go northwest
Directly to the north a broad stream runs briskly past on its way to the sea, while directly to the south the ground falls straight down into a mined-out quarry, a fall far too steep to negotiate from here. Impenetrable woodland blocks the way west, leaving southeast as the only possible direction of travel.

A bunch of blackberries is growing at the edge of the wood.
You look at the blackberries
The berries look ripe, juicy and good to eat.
Go southeast
To the east the sea stretches out as far as you can see – which is
only as far as the bank of mist. To north and south the ground falls away too sharply to be negotiated by human beings; a large bay lies to the north, with a stream running into it from the west, while directly to the south is a small cove. A steep path leads down into the quarry to the southwest, while a broad trail leads to the northwest.
You go southwest
Although it seems to be no longer in use, this looks like it could be the source of much of the local building materials. One effect of the quarrying is that you have ended up in a deep dip from which the only practicable ways out are back up the rutted track to the south, or
else up the steep path to the northeast.
You go south
The main path continues to east and west as far as you can see, rising slightly to the latter as it heads inland. A long hedge blocks the
way south, but just at this point of the path a rutted track runs off to the north.
Go east
Most of this sizeable garden is given over to vegetable plots. To the east it comes to an abrupt end overlooking the cove, accessible via a rough flight of stone steps. At its northern end stands a large stone house, from the front of which a gravel path heads off to the west, while along the garden’s southern boundary runs a long wooden fence.
Go north
(first trying to open the front door)
The front door seems to be locked.
You knock on the door
The door opens revealing Julia standing just inside. “Hello again,
Mr
Corby,” she greets you. “Do come in!”
Go north
You follow Julia inside.

The parlour is of a good size, but not so big as to forfeit a certain rustic cosiness. The large open fireplace looks as if it could
sustain quite a blaze in winter, though it’s currently unlit. The furniture is plain but functional. The front door is to the south, with other doorways to north and east.

Julia is standing here.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying a plain brass key, a flint, a brass lamp, a bunch of flowers, a small gold ear-ring, an old sheet of parchment, a flat square stone, and a bunch of blackberries.

The flowers have quite a sweet, delicate scent.
You give the earring to Julia
(the small gold ear-ring)
“Is this yours, by any chance?” you ask, showing her the small gold ear-ring you found.

“Why yes, I believe it is,” she replies. “Where did you find
it?”

“Out by the marker stone, on a promontory over to the west.” you
tell
her.

“I must have dropped it there when I went for a walk a couple of days ago,” she tells you. “Well, thank you so much for finding it!”

So saying, she takes it from you and puts it on.
You ask Julia about the earring
She’s already thanked you for returning her lost ear-ring.
Topics
You could tell her about the Duke, or Lady Inalda, or ask her about smuggling, or Duke William.
You ask about the smuggling
“Do you know anything about any smuggling going on round here?” you ask.

“I know that pretty much everyone round here – the Duke included
–
depends on the goods the smugglers bring in,” she tells you.
You ask about the smuggling
“Do you have any idea who’s behind the smuggling?” you ask.

“Me? No,” she shakes her head. “It’s not my sort of thing.
I’m just
happy to let them get on with it – whoever they are.”
Topics
You could tell her about the Duke, or Lady Inalda, or ask her about smuggling, or Duke William.
You tell her about Duke
“I met the Duke, you know,” you tell her, “and he wants me to
find out
who’s behind some smuggling racket on the island.”

“Does he now!” she exclaims. “And do you intend to do as he
asks?”

(You could say yes or no.)
You ask her about Duke
“No, don’t try to change the subject,” she tells you. “I want
to know
whether you intend to the Duke’s bidding on these smugglers. So,
will
you do as he asks?”
No
“No, I don’t fancy being the Duke’s spy; I’m a naval officer,
loyal to
King George, not some dukeling’s lackey.”

“Good for you!” she smiles. “Perhaps too you’ve seen through
the
Duke’s motive in setting you this little task?”

(You could say yes or no.)
No
“No, not really,” you admit, “He said smuggling is damaging the
local
economy, but it seems to me that it’s the blight that’s doing
that.”

“Quite so,” she agrees. “As I see it, the Duke doesn’t want to suppress the smuggling at all; he simply wants to control it. Even he can see that we couldn’t cope here at all without the stuff the smugglers bring in. The Duke just wants the profits for himself. Anything else he told you is just so much baloney.”
Topics
You could ask her about smuggling, or Duke William, or tell her about Lady Inalda.
You ask about the smuggling
“I don’t suppose you have any ideas on how I could go about finding
out who the smugglers are,” you ask.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to act as the Duke’s
spy,” she
points out. “But still, I suppose whoever’s doing it has to land
the
goods somewhere – probably somewhere as remote as possible, which probably means one of those coves up in the wastelands, just this side of the Ridge. I suppose you could go up there now and root around for clues – marks in the sand, that kind of thing – but they probably operate at night, so when you’ve found the likeliest spot you’d
need
to wait there all night to see if you can catch the smugglers at it.”
You ask about the smuggling
“You don’t have any ideas who the smugglers might be?”
you
persist.

“No, no idea at all,” she shakes her head, “and I wouldn’t tell
you if
I had, in case you change your mind and go and tell someone you shouldn’t.”
You ask about Duke
“Does this island really need a duke to rule it?” you
wonder.

“That’s a good question,” she agrees. “Of course the Ducs de
Valon,
as they like to call themselves, have always claimed to bring the benefits of law and order to the island. Perhaps there’s an element
of truth to that, but their idea of law and order seems to be mostly duties and taxes.”
Continue
“What else can you tell me about Duke William?” you ask.

“I suppose he’s kind of handsome, in an arrogant aristocratic sort
of
way,” she tells you, “though his cousin, Lady Inalda, is a real
beauty. Don’t go getting any ideas there though – William fancies
her
for himself.” She shakes her head, “Too much inbreeding in that
family
if you ask me.”
Continue
“Is Duke William such a bad ruler?” you ask.

“He’s not a tyrant – he doesn’t rape and murder the serfs, if
that’s
what you mean,” she replies, “but I can’t honestly say he does a
lot
of good, either. I wouldn’t go so far myself, but I have heard some people call him a parasite.”

“There aren’t any Jacobins here, I hope!” you declare.

“Jacobins?” she queries. “Oh no, we’re quite isolated from
events in
France!”
Continue
You decide to leave that topic alone for now. You’ve already
gathered
that Julia isn’t that impressed with Duke William, without actually calling him a bad ruler.
You ask about Inalda
“Tell me about Lady Inalda,” you say.

“She’s the daughter of the Duke’s uncle – the old Duke’s
brother, that
is.” she tells you. “She’s said to be the most beautiful woman
on the
island, and maybe she is. But as for what she’s like underneath –
I
really don’t know. She always seems a bit aloof to me.”
You keep going
“What else can you tell me about the beautiful Inalda?” you
enquire.

“What’s to say? Her mother is meant to be still alive – but
apparently she’s a bed-ridden invalid and hasn’t been seen outside
the
castle in years.” Julia informs you. “As for Inalda, half the men
on
the island seem to fancy her, but she never shows much in return; if she has a heart, she certainly doesn’t wear it on her sleeve.”
You ask about Inalda
“And will Inalda wed her cousin?” you wonder.

“He wants it. What she wants is something she keeps to herself,”
Julia replies.
You ask about Inalda
There doesn’t seem too much more to ask at this stage, and you
don’t
want to give Julia the impression that you’ve become fixated on
Inalda. It’s clear enough that Julia regards the Duke’s cousin as
a
rather remote figure, an enigmatic beauty perhaps. It seems the Duke wants to marry her, but Julia doesn’t seem to know what Inalda wants.
Topics
You could tell her about Lady Inalda.
You tell about Inalda
“When I went into town I found Cadan Pascoe attacking Lady Inalda!”
you tell her. “Fortunately I managed to frighten him off.”

“Good heavens!” she declares. “Was Lady Inalda all right?”

“Yes, she was fine,” you reply.

“Well, I trust she was suitably grateful!” Julia remarks.
You describe your surroundings
The parlour is of a good size, but not so big as to forfeit a certain rustic cosiness. The large open fireplace looks as if it could
sustain quite a blaze in winter, though it’s currently unlit. The furniture is plain but functional. The front door is to the south, with other doorways to north and east.

Julia is standing here.
Go north
Julia comes with you.

The kitchen is quite large, and conveys something of the same rustic flavour as the parlour, which lies just to the south. A plain wooden door, painted black, is set in the north wall next to a large wood-burning stove. An even larger wooden table occupies most of the space in the middle of the kitchen, together with a conveniently
placed wooden chair.

Julia is standing here.
You go to the north
You hardly feel you can start wandering uninvited into other parts of the house.
You go to the south
Julia comes with you.

The parlour is of a good size, but not so big as to forfeit a certain rustic cosiness. The large open fireplace looks as if it could
sustain quite a blaze in winter, though it’s currently unlit. The furniture is plain but functional. The front door is to the south, with other doorways to north and east.

Julia is standing here.
Go east
You hardly feel you can go wandering round the house uninvited.
You examine the fireplace
It’s currently unlit, but it looks like one could get quite a blaze burning in it.
Go south
“Well, bye for now then; no doubt I shall see you again soon,”
Julia
bids you farewell.

Most of this sizeable garden is given over to vegetable plots. To the east it comes to an abrupt end overlooking the cove, accessible via a rough flight of stone steps. At its northern end stands a large stone house, from the front of which a gravel path heads off to the west, while along the garden’s southern boundary runs a long wooden fence.

Julia closes the front door from the other side.
You go west
The main path continues to east and west as far as you can see, rising slightly to the latter as it heads inland. A long hedge blocks the
way south, but just at this point of the path a rutted track runs off to the north.
Go west
You set off to the west, and after a brisk walk up the slope you find yourself on the eastern outskirts of the town.

Pressed in between a rough stone wall to the north and a small shop to the south this short, narrow street runs east back towards the coast and west towards the centre of town.
You go west
This crossroads, at what may be the centre of the town, is formed by meeting of roads to north, south, east and west. All four roads lead between grim, grey buildings; the road to the east looks quite short, while that to the west leads up a distant hill. The roads to north
and south look as if they run on quite a way, but just a short way to the south you can see a hanging inn-sign.

Two men smelling strongly of fish stride past to the south.
You go to the south
The west side of this long, grubby street is dominated by the Red Dragon Inn, while on the opposite side squats a row of bleak stone cottages. The street continues to north and south over well-worn cobbles.
You go south
Leading down from the town to the north towards a stone jetty to the south, this steep track is little more than a well-trodden path along the edge of the barren scrubland that extends to the east. A narrow side-track runs off through a thicket to the southwest.
You go to the east
the west, and ends at clifftops to northeast and southeast. The area is deserted and little grows here but some scraggy grass, impoverished by the thin, stony soil. A long wooden fence runs along much of the northern boundary of this largely wasted space, but otherwise it is open to the elements.
You go to the south-east
Cliff Top (South)
This must be the southeastern tip of the island, thrusting out just a short way into the sea, only a dozen feet below to east and south. Immediately to the west you look down on the roof of the fish house, with the jetty a little way beyond and the beach further in the distance. The only way inland lies to the northwest, while the cliff top continues to the north.
You go north
Cliff Top (North)
From up here on the cliff you have a spectacular view over the sea a hundred feet below, but as ever it’s cut short by the mist a few hundred yards out from the shore. You can also see down into a cove
to the north, although there’s no way to reach it from here. But perhaps the most striking feature of this part of the cliff is the thick grass that covers it; something about the soil causes it to grow in a spectrum of greens from almost yellow to virtually turquoise, creating an effect akin to a patterned carpet. The cliff top
continues to the south, while to the southwest lies a large expanse of scrubland.
You examine the grass
The grass here looks none too healthy, consisting as it does of
patches of yellow and green. For a moment you fancy that the alternating patches of colour are spelling out the word COME, but when you blink and look again the patches just look random again, and you feel sure you must have imagined it.
You keep going
The grass here looks none too healthy, consisting as it does of
patches of yellow and green. For a moment you fancy that the alternating patches of colour are spelling out the word NORTH, but
when you blink and look again the patches just look random again, and you feel sure you must have imagined it. Yet this is the second time you think you saw something there.
Keep going
The grass here looks none too healthy, consisting as it does of
patches of yellow and green. For a moment you fancy that the alternating patches of colour are spelling out the word TO, but when you blink and look again the patches just look random again, and you feel sure you must have imagined it. This is beginning to feel just a little spooky.
You keep going
The grass here looks none too healthy, consisting as it does of
patches of yellow and green. For a moment you fancy that the alternating patches of colour are spelling out the word MEET, but when you blink and look again the patches just look random again, and you feel sure you must have imagined it. This is starting to become more than a little spooky.
Continue
The grass here looks none too healthy, consisting as it does of
patches of yellow and green. For a moment you fancy that the alternating patches of colour are spelling out the word YOUR, but when you blink and look again the patches just look random again, and you feel sure you must have imagined it. You begin to wonder if your mind has been affected by your night in the sea.
You continue
The grass here looks none too healthy, consisting as it does of
patches of yellow and green. For a moment you fancy that the alternating patches of colour are spelling out the word DESTINY, but when you blink and look again the patches just look random again, and you feel sure you must have imagined it. You wonder if you dare look again; how can your imagination be playing such tricks on you?
You examine the grass
The grass here looks none too healthy, consisting as it does of
patches of yellow and green. For a moment you fancy that the alternating patches of colour are spelling out the word COME, but when you blink and look again the patches just look random again, and you feel sure you must have imagined it. At least, that’s what you keep trying to tell yourself.
Look around
Cliff Top (North)
From up here on the cliff you have a spectacular view over the sea a hundred feet below, but as ever it’s cut short by the mist a few hundred yards out from the shore. You can also see down into a cove
to the north, although there’s no way to reach it from here. But perhaps the most striking feature of this part of the cliff is the thick grass that covers it; something about the soil causes it to grow in a spectrum of greens from almost yellow to virtually turquoise, creating an effect akin to a patterned carpet. The cliff top
continues to the south, while to the southwest lies a large expanse of scrubland.
Go north
You can’t go that way. Obvious exits lead south, back to the
southern
end of the cliff top; and southwest.
You check your inventory
You are carrying a plain brass key, a flint, a brass lamp, a bunch of flowers, an old sheet of parchment, a flat square stone, and a bunch
of blackberries.

The flowers have quite a sweet, delicate scent.
%
Your part in Napoleon's downfall is about to come to an untimely end.

The storm raging across the Bay of Biscay has forced Cornwallis to stand out to sea, giving an opportunity for a French captain with more daring than most to try to slip past the blockade. While Nelson is chasing Villeneuve across the Atlantic, the Channel fleet is closely blockading Brest to ensure that Ganteaume can't escape to join him; if he did Bonaparte's invasion plans would perilously close to fruition.

In the meantime, you are left swimming around in the Bay of Biscay. It can't be more than a couple of minutes before you drown. For a moment, you almost imagine you see the inscription on your own grave:

R.I.P. Lieutenant James Corby, RN
1780 - 1805
Lost at sea in the service of his country
(mainly as a result of his own clumsiness)

The storm-tossed waves thunder all around you. The Niobe is nowhere in sight; neither is that other ship. The sky is so black that even without the salt water stinging your eyes you could scarcely see a thing. Already your sea-soaked clothes are starting to drag you under, and you feel so very, very cold. It would be so much easier to give up the futile struggle, to accept the sea's icy embrace, and yield to the everlasting sleep of your watery grave. For surely there can be no hope of rescue now.

And yet it was only a moment ago that you took your unplanned tumble over the side of the ship.

Ting! Ting! Two bells in the middle watch: ten hours since sighting the strange sail and giving chase.

It wasn't yet clear that the strange sail was a French warship, but your captain was taking no chances, and so the Niobe, 38, had set off in hot pursuit. She was carrying all the sail a frigate safely could in such a storm, but still the strange vessel was maintaining its lead, and it was all the Niobe could do to keep pace with her. But the weather had been steadily worsening; the storm was becoming a gale, and there was a real danger that the Niobe would lose a spar - or worse - unless she shortened sail. So you dispatched the midshipman of the watch to seek the captain's permission to do just that.

And then came the totally unexpected hail from the masthead:

"Land ho! Fine on the starboard bow!"

That was absurd; there shouldn't have been any land within a dozen leagues.

The deck around you was little more than a mass of shadow and outline in the dark, with the only point of light coming from the binnacle just in front of you. You were aware of the mizzen mast towering above you nearby, but as much from the howl of the wind in the rigging as from anything you could see.

The helmsman was standing nearby at the wheel.

You were almost deafened by the howling gale screaming in the rigging and lashing up the waves all round the ship.