Seascape

By Neetah Books

Jenny and Pavel are caught up in another exciting adventure on the western isles of Scotland. While care-taking her uncle’s farm on the island of Barra, Jenny and Pavel are embroiled in a plot to steal some very precious sea eagle eggs from the cliffs of Mull. Caught up in the 'Arab Spring' a young prince is set to pay a fortune to an egg thief for a rare egg that may save his family back home. Jenny and Pavel try to do the right thing, but soon end up in a dangerous chase that could take their lives and those of the eagles. Can they save the sea eagle eggs in time? Will Jenny manage to keep her family safe? Who is the mysterious egg thief that threatens everyone she loves?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Neetah Books
• Release date: Jun 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781908898203

Neetah Books

Neetah Books is a profit sharing publisher who only takes on titles after assessing the quality, marketability and sales potential of each book. We do not ask for money. We split profits 50:50 with the author.

Book preview

TABLE OF CONTENTS

The Egg-thief

The Bullet-Proof Ram

Angela and the Arab Spring

Spick-and-Span Pam

The Beach Hut

The Little Spy

A Hiding Place

The New Recruit

One of Three

The Dark Castle

Kisimul Castle

The Map

The Escape

The Mountains in the Sea

The Highland Posse

The Beach

The Golden Bay

The Climb

The Family at the Nest

The Return

The Leap

Reunion

The Return of the Prince

CHAPTER ONE

The Egg-thief

The rain had finally found its way into the hood of his crinkled wax jacket. He shivered as a trickle of water laced its way down his back and then settled in an icy pool at the base of his spine.

Only a few inches away from the sea-eagle’s nest, the flimsy birch tree that held him creaked and groaned every time he shifted his weight. He was almost there. Weighing only seven stone, he was one of the few men who could ever have made it this far. He’d planned every last detail, starved himself for weeks, rehearsed every move. He couldn’t afford to be beaten now.

Rainwater hammered into his eyes as his long, skinny fingers crawled over the lip of tangled twigs and plunged, at last, into the eagle’s nest. Craning his neck, he pulled himself up even higher until he could see them. Glowing faintly in the dim light, the sea-eagle eggs were much bigger than he’d imagined. Just one more push and... Ah!

He juddered back down through the tree until his boot jammed tight. A jolt of pain shot up his leg. He could taste blood in his mouth. The gale strengthened and the wind rattled through the branches as his calf cramped. It was as if the elements were warning him, telling him to go back down the mountain. He tried to pull himself free several times but his foot was stuck tight.

A cry sounded out behind him. The sea-eagle was coming back to guard her eggs.

Adrenalin coursing through his veins, he adjusted his position and wrenched his foot free of the branches. Shaking with exhaustion he soon regained his position at the lip of the nest and stretched up as far as he could. He closed his eyes, forcing his hand even further inside this time. A shiver of excitement raced through him as his fingers found the first egg. He held his breath. The shell was smooth and warm to the touch. Carefully, he searched for more. There were... one... two... three of them.

He shook the rain from his eyes and scanned the dark skies behind him. She was up there, somewhere, watching him. He could hear her.

One by one he began to lift the eggs out of the nest, placing them as gently as he could into his pack.

Another cry sounded out, much closer this time. Perhaps a hundred yards away, no more.

His legs were cramping again.

Just one more egg to go, he thought. Three viable eggs would net him seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds.

A pair of huge wings beat behind him. He felt something tear at his pack. He screamed. A branch snapped, and he fell again. This time he slammed off of the wet cliff face and tumbled, helplessly, down through the twisted tree. The smaller limbs whipped his face and cut into his arms and legs.

Eeee! The massive sea-eagle veered away from the cliff above him as he bumped onto a muddy ledge.

With his vision blurred and the air knocked from his lungs, he began to slide, helplessly, back down the grassy slope until he crumpled against a rough boulder.

The rain eased a little and he managed to focus. He looked back up at the nest. Thirty feet above him, the female sea-eagle had landed on her eyrie. She screeched down at him over her shoulder, the great wings arched protectively around the one remaining egg. Her broad, white tail was fanned out against the rock-face.

Still panting, he scrambled to his knees and found the straps of his pack. Frantically, he flicked open the top section and felt inside. He sneered up at the great bird.

If these eggs are smashed, I’ll...

He eased his fingers into the pack, fully expecting to feel a mass of warm, sticky yoke or, worse still, the small twisted body of a chick. His heart quickened, but the two sea-eagle eggs were intact and still warm.

Yes! he shouted out defiantly, punching a fist up at the eagle.

Eeee! The mother eagle answered him in an angry cry that pierced the grey skies beyond.

His jacket was in tatters and his arm was throbbing, but he’d done enough to secure his future.

The moon made a sudden appearance through a cut the clouds, throwing a little light on the wet ground at his feet. He knew he had to act quickly; keep the eagle eggs warm. He had to get them back down the mountain to the incubator before dawn.

A sudden jolt of pain made him curse. His arm ached and he couldn’t straighten his knee properly. Trying not to think about the one egg he’d left in the nest, he struggled back down the mountain through the woods, towards the bothy. Everything he needed was there.

Two sea-eagle eggs would still make him a rich man. He was going to show the people on these islands that he was better than any of them. With money, real money, everyone would want to know him. They would respect him; they would listen to him.

CHAPTER TWO

The Bullet-Proof Ram

Jenny MacLeod, a slight girl of eleven with a mass of blonde curls, tugged the rusty chain at the back door of the trailer. There was a bleat from inside and a scuffle of feet on the metal floor.

Everything ship-shape, Jenny? asked Pavel. A tall boy for his age, he had a large nose and cheeky grin fixed on his freckly face.

That doesn’t make any sense, Pavel, snapped Jenny. We’ve got a ram in the trailer, not a bloomin’ speed boat.

Ah, but that ram’s worth just as much as any speed boat, isn’t he?

I suppose, said Jenny. Still a few years younger than Pavel, she couldn’t understand why anyone would pay as much as twenty thousand pounds for a ram. Pavel had said that’s what specially bred rams cost, but he hadn’t explained why. Her uncle John had bought the animal from a specialist breeder near Edinburgh, and had then flown off on holiday to Spain, leaving the animal with them. Uncle John’s not used to money, she whispered. That’s what dad says.

Pavel shrugged. We wouldn’t be off on holiday to Barra if your numpty-uncle hadn’t nipped away on his hollybags, so good on him, that’s what I say.

Her dad popped his head around the side of the trailer.

They both froze.

Don’t be thinking you’re going on holiday, Pavel, he said. There’s work to be done, and plenty of it.

Pavel bit down on his smile and nodded sheepishly.

And Jenny, her dad continued, I don’t want to hear any rubbish about your Uncle John.

Jenny flushed. But you said...

Never mind what I said, interrupted her dad, "I’m allowed to call him a numpty, he turned to Pavel, you are not."

Sorry, Mr MacLeod, said Pavel.

Hamish MacLeod sighed. You’d better get into the jeep. The ferry’s almost here.

As soon as her dad turned away, Pavel frowned at Jenny. He’s annoyed at you for blabbing on your uncle, he whispered.

Jenny punched his arm. You didn’t have to blurt it out like that.

Lord, their old collie dog, panted and snapped at her dad’s laces as he walked round the jeep.

Don’t be daft, dug, said Hamish, fumbling for his keys. He clicked the jeep doors open.

Ahead of them, the big black and white ferry juddered to a halt and then lowered its green-painted ramp with a loud creak. Jenny thought it looked like a sea monster slowly opening its gaping mouth.

A trail of cars, vans and lorries spewed out onto the tarmac and then headed off, in convoy, north, towards Benbecula and beyond. It was the Easter holidays, and the Scottish islands on the west coast were awash with a sudden influx of tourists.

All aboard the Skylark! shouted Pavel. Jenny thought that Pavel’s thick Polish accent made everything he said sound a bit more exciting. Even though Jenny thought he spouted complete rubbish most of the time, it didn’t really matter.

Okay, you two, said her dad, buckle up. We’ll get a snack on the ferry. Hamish MacLeod smiled at his daughter and winked at Pavel before gingerly edging into his seat. He still moved with care after his heart operation. He’d been advised to ‘take it easy’ and Jenny spent most of her time reminding him to do just that. It had been her idea to take Pavel on the trip. Her uncle John had a lot of sheep to look after, so ‘an extra pair of hands, she’d explained, ‘could only be a help’.

Inside the jeep there was an interesting mix of smells: diesel, mucky boots, and wet dog all merged to form a comforting scent. It’s familiarity made her feel relaxed and safe.

Lord had curled up on his tartan rug. He lifted his head and thumped his tail against the taught, leatherette seat in greeting. Only the smell of tobacco was missing these days, and that was a good thing as far as Jenny was concerned. Her dad’s heart attack had put an end to that particular habit. Jenny reached behind her and found Lord’s soft coat. As she stroked and patted, the old dog’s tail thumped even harder. His muzzle was flecked with grey and his breath was warm on the back of Jenny’s hand.

Pavel sat back in the passenger seat and gave the ticket collector a military-style salute on their way into the bowels of the boat.

Jenny punched him on the arm again. Numpty, she hissed.

Hamish shook his head disapprovingly without taking his eyes off of the car in front.

They decided to leave Lord curled up in the jeep, so Jenny wound the window down an inch or two and topped up his water.

Pavel squinted into the trailer. So what’s so special about this ram, Mr MacLeod? he asked.

He’s supposed to be immune to everything; liver fluke, ticks, lice and worms; able to pass it on through his genes too.

So, he’s kind of bullet-proof? said Pavel. We’ve got a bullet-proof ram! he pronounced.

A few tourists looked at him strangely.

Hamish sighed. He better be bullet-proof at that price.

Jenny noticed her dad grimace in pain. He coughed and patted his broad chest. She caught his sleeve. Take the lift up to the passenger deck, dad.

Aye-aye, lassie, stop fussing, he moaned. I’m fine. The doctor told me to exercise. These stairs can be my stint for today.

Jenny narrowed her eyes. But it’s too much and...

Stubbornly ignoring her, he grunted, swung his broad shoulders round a tight corner and began to climb the steps.

Soon Jenny was clumping up the steep metal stairs behind him. She could feel the heat on her face as they climbed higher. Wafts of grilled bacon and fresh coffee caused her stomach to twinge and her mood to brighten.

Her dad beamed back at her as they walked into the cafeteria. Your mother always said there was nothing to beat a breakfast on the ferry.

She was right, said Pavel.

However, his toothy grin soon slipped into an awkward smile when Jenny added, You didn’t really know mum, did you, Pavel?

Not really, said Pavel. His face was glowing red, as though he’d just had a good slap. Pavel knew that Jenny’s mum had passed away but he struggled with big, uncomfortable stuff like that. He liked to make a joke about things; laugh his way out of trouble. But when it came to Jenny’s mum, he didn’t know what to do or say.

Jenny smiled kindly, wishing she hadn’t said what she had, and then followed her dad to the food counter.

Three bacon rolls, said Hamish.

Jenny tapped him on the shoulder and cleared her throat. Your diet, she reminded.

Hamish MacLeod grunted irritably. Make that two bacon rolls and a tuna sandwich, he mumbled.

They found a table next to the window and sat down amongst a circle of yellow, plastic chairs. Just as Jenny was about to take her first bite, Pavol nudged her. She drew back her fist, ready to give him a jab back. No, he said, "look across there. It’s