On the Cerys, Nicko came to his senses in the middle of every sailor's nightmare. He stared at Snorri in disbelief.

"What?" he gasped. "I've done what?"

"Run aground," Snorri replied tersely. "Nicko, you would not listen to me. You...you were crazy."

"Aground? No...oh no. No! " Nicko ran to the side of the ship and stared down. All he could see were curls of mist hugging the surface of the water, but he knew Snorri was right. He could feel it - there was no movement of water below the keel. The beautiful Cerys had left her element and become nothing more than a great inert lump of wood. A hubbub had broken out belowdecks. The entire crew was awake, throwing themselves out of their bunks, hurtling up the companionways. The thunderous sound of footsteps filled Nicko with dread, and in a moment Milo - disheveled from sleep, a blanket thrown hastily over his silk brocade nightgown - was towering over him.

"What - " yelled Milo. "What have you done?"

Mute, Nicko shook his head; he could hardly bear to look at Milo. "I...I don't know," he said desperately. "I just don't know."

The first mate emerged on deck and promptly answered the question. "'E's run us aground, boss." An unspoken I told you so hung in the air. Snorri knew that Nicko would not even try to stick up for himself. "It is the lighthouse," she said. "It has moved."

The first mate laughed mockingly.

"But it has moved," Snorri insisted. "It is there now. Look." She pointed to the Pinnacle, which rose from the mist - a giant black finger of doom crowned with a brilliant light.

"Hah!" scoffed the first mate. "Some idiot lighting a fire on top of a rock. Happens all the time. No need to run the blasted ship at it."

"The ship, she...she is only on a sandbank," Snorri faltered.

"You're an expert, are you?" the first mate replied scornfully.

"I know how a sandbank feels beneath a boat, and I also know how a rock feels," said Snorri. "This feels like a sandbank."

The first mate did not know quite what to make of Snorri. He shook his head.

"She will float at the next tide, I think," said Snorri.

"Depends on the damage," the first mate growled. "Sand covers a multitude of sins - an' a multitude of rocks. You find the worst rocks under sand. Water smooths 'em. Sand don't. Sand keeps 'em sharp. Like razors, some of them. Cut through a ship like hot wire through butter." He turned away from Snorri and addressed Milo. "Permission to send a man over, sir. Inspect the damage."

"Permission granted," said Milo.

"I'll go," said Nicko, trying his best not to plead. "Please. Let me do something to help."

Milo looked at him coldly. "No," he snapped. "Jem can go. I trust Jem." Abruptly he turned on his heel and walked slowly to the prow, where he stood and stared dismally through the mist at the vague shapes of the land - so unexpectedly, unnaturally, close at hand.

In a daze Milo heard Jem climb down the rungs on the side of the hull, then put the rope ladder out to reach the sand below. He heard the sounds of splashing through the shallows and Jem's shouts: "Seabed is sand, sir...bit of a scrape here...not too bad...ah...uh-oh..." And then more splashing.

In despair Milo put his head in his hands. He thought of his precious cargo fastened below in the hold. The prize for which he had searched for so many years, which had taken him away from his wife and then from his daughter. Foolish years, thought Milo, foolish years that had come to this. He imagined the Cerys filling with water on the rising tide, the sea pouring in, surrounding the great chest, drowning it forevermore, consigning its precious contents to the seabed, to be washed up on the lonely shores of this benighted place.

Milo looked out over the prow, which rose up even higher than usual, for the Cerys had settled into the sand and was leaning back at an unnatural angle. He stared through the mist at the Light on top of the Pinnacle and saw that it was not, as the first mate had said, a fire. And as he looked at the Light, trying to figure out exactly what it was, the mist began to retreat. A chill settled on Milo as he watched the mist behave as no mist should - rolling up the craggy hill toward a small tower perched at the very top, as if it were a line being reeled in by a fisherman with a very large fish by the name of Cerys on the end of it, thought Milo wryly. A shiver ran through him. There was something strange going on, and there was something particularly strange about that tower - and he wanted a closer look.

"Telescope!" yelled Milo.

Within seconds a member of the crew was at his side with his telescope. Milo put the finely tooled brass tube to his eye and focused on the tower. Running along the top of the tower he saw an eerie line of tiny blue lights. They reminded him of a strange sea tale the pirates on Deakin Lee's ship would tell late at night about the Isles of the blue-eyed Syrens, which were scattered throughout the seven seas, where voices Call and Beguile sailors, luring their ships onto the rocks.

Milo watched the carpet of mist rolling up the hill and streaming into the tower through the blue-lit windows, and he began to wonder just how much Nicko was to blame for the grounding. He decided to go have a quiet word with the boy. It was then that Milo heard a girl's voice calling from below. It sounded like - but surely it couldn't be - his daughter.

"Look, it is the Cerys! I knew it. Hey, Nicko! Milo!"

Now Milo knew it was true - this was indeed one of the notorious Isles of Syren.

"Hey - hey, Milo -  father! Look down. It's me, Jenna!"

Milo put his fingers in his ears. "Go away!" he shouted. "Leave us alone!"

Far below, at the head of a small band of would-be rescuers wading through the shallows, Jenna heard the shout. Upset, she turned to Septimus and Beetle. "Typical," she said.

"Shh," whispered Septimus. "There's someone coming. Quick, everyone, get down!" He ducked behind the large rock that the Cerys had so very nearly plowed into, pulling Jenna with him. Beetle, Wolf Boy and Lucy quickly followed.

"What's up, Sep?" Beetle muttered, kneeling on a limpet, much to the discomfort of both creatures.

Septimus pointed to the rearing shape of the Cerys, so very different from when he had last seen her in all her glory on Harbor Twelve at the Trading Post. Now, seen from limpet's-eye view, her massive rounded shape was no longer elegant but fat, like a beached whale. Although her topsides were still smooth and her gold stripe shone in the glow of the Light, below the waterline the ship was dull and dirty with a scattering of barnacles. But it was not the sad sight of the beached Cerys that Septimus wanted to point out - it was the unmistakable shapes of the Crowe twins, almost invisible in the shadows of the overhang of the hull, stealthily making their way toward Jem, who was busy inspecting the damage.

They watched in horror as, in their classic Pincer- Splat maneuver, the Crowes crept up on the unsuspecting Jem. At the very last moment, just before they pounced, Jem turned in surprise, then he gave a sharp cry and tumbled face-first into the shallows. Each Crowe put a knife back into his belt, then continued on their way, creeping along the keel of the ship, well hidden from the view of anyone on board. The Crowes moved stealthily to the rope ladder that dangled from the unsuspecting Cerys. Now the watchers saw two more figures - Skipper and Jakey Fry - appear from behind the stern and creep toward the ladder. At the foot of the ladder they stopped, and Jakey could be seen pointing to the sailor's body. An argument appeared to break out between Jakey Fry and his father, who settled it with a long knife held to Jakey's throat. The Crowe twins had now also reached the ladder. Jakey was told to hold it, and one at a time the Crowe twins, each with a fearsome collection of knives stuck into his belt and boots, began a laborious ascent.

"No!" gasped Jenna. She went to slip out from behind the rock, but Wolf Boy grabbed her.

"Wait," he told her.

"But Nicko - " Jenna protested.

Wolf Boy looked at Septimus. "Not yet, 412 - yeah?"

Septimus nodded. He knew Wolf Boy was calculating the odds, just as they had been taught in the Young Army. And right then the odds were stacked against them in the form of knives, ruthlessness and brute strength. They desperately needed something in their favor, and they had only one thing - surprise.

"To Win the Fight, Time It Right," Septimus said. Exasperated, Jenna raised her eyes to heaven.

"But Jen, it's true," said Septimus. "We must get the timing right. When they least expect it we pounce. Okay, 409?"

Wolf Boy gave Septimus a thumbs-up and a grin. This was like the old days - only a thousand times better. They were together in their own platoon and they were going to win.

Jenna, however, didn't see it that way. Horrified, she watched Skipper Fry follow the Crowes up the ladder, the glow from the Light glinting off a large cutlass thrust into his waistband. The Crowe twins had reached the top. They stopped and waited for Skipper Fry; then all three slipped silently onto the ship.

On the Cerys shouts broke out and someone screamed. Jenna could stand it no longer. She pulled away from Wolf Boy and ran out from the rock, splashing through the shallow water and leaping across the raised sandbars toward the stricken ship while the sound of screams, yells and thud s echoed down. Jakey Fry saw Jenna coming, but he did not move. He saw four more figures slip out from behind the rock and follow her, but still he did not move. He watched the figures reach the body of the sailor, saw them kneel down and turn the man over, and Jakey felt terrible. He clung to the ladder, apparently obeying his father's last words to him: "Hold on to that ladder, you little pikey, and don't you dare let go whatever happens, got that?"

But actually Jakey was too shocked to let go.

Jakey watched the five figures pick up the sailor and stagger with him back to a nearby flat rock. He wanted to go and help, but he didn't dare - right then he didn't dare do anything at all. He saw them haul the sailor up onto the rock, and then a boy with a nest of straw on his head kneeled beside him. A few seconds later, the boy got to his feet and pointed angrily at Jakey.

Suddenly Jakey heard his father's threatening bellow cut through the sounds of the fight above and all went quiet. Jakey shuddered. His father probably had a knife to someone's throat - that was the way he usually got what he wanted. He glanced up but could see nothing but the barnacled curve of the Cerys's hull. When he looked down he saw the boy-with-the-nest-of-straw-on-his-head and his four friends -  one of whom was Lucy Gringe - heading straight for him. Jakey gulped. He was in for it now. Jenna and Septimus reached Jakey first. Septimus grabbed Jakey by his collar and pulled him away from the ladder.

"Get out of the way, you murderer."

"I - I'm not. I - I didn't do it, honest."

"Your friends did. It's the same thing. You're all in it together."

"No -  no. They're not my friends. They're not."

"Just get out of the way. Our brother's on that ship, and we're going up."

"I'll hold the ladder fer ya," said Jakey, much to Septimus's surprise. Septimus jumped onto the ladder and began to climb.

"You be careful," warned Jakey. "You going up too?" he asked Wolf Boy.

"Yeah," said Wolf Boy, scowling.

"Good luck," said Jakey.

Jenna went next, followed by Beetle. Lucy hung back. She had had enough of ladders. She glared at Jakey. "What's going on, fish breath?" she demanded.

"I dunno, Miss Lucy, honest," Jakey babbled. "There's somethin' on the ship. Pa knows, but 'e never tells me nuffin'. You goin' up too?"

Lucy glanced up at the ladder just in time to see Septimus disappear over the gunnels. She sighed. There were two of Simon's little brothers up there now and, like it or not, she was going to have to help them - they were, after all, very nearly family. Businesslike, she tied her braids into a knot so that no one could grab them (Lucy had learned a thing or two at the Port Witch Coven).

"Yeah, turtle head, I'm going up," she said.

"You take care, Miss Lucy," said Jakey. "If you need any help, I'll be there."

Lucy flashed Jakey an unexpected smile. "Thanks, kiddo," she said. "You take care too." With that she began the precarious climb.

As Lucy struggled up the side of the Cerys, an odd-looking gull with yellow feathers landed on the sandbank. It put its head to one side and looked at Jakey Fry with some interest; then it stuck its beak into the sand, pulled out a long, wriggling sand eel and gulped it down. Yuck, it hated sand eels. Sand eels were the worst thing about being a gull. But it couldn't help it. As soon as it felt the shift of sand grains beneath its sensitive little flat feet something took over, and the next thing it knew it had one of the disgusting things halfway down its throat. The gull took off and flew to a nearby rock to recover. The little yellow gull could not believe that once again its fortunes had suddenly changed. But it had had no choice, it told itself. It knew that the bossy ExtraOrdinary Wizard would indeed have kept it imprisoned in the Sealed Cell forever if it had not agreed to her terms. The gull decided that it would not be rushed. It would get moving when it had digested the sand eel and not before. It hoped its Master would be worth all the trouble, but it doubted it. Trying to ignore the sensation of sand eel wriggling in its stomach, the gull watched Lucy climb the precarious-looking rungs up the side of the Cerys's hull.

At last Lucy reached the top. She peered over the gunnels. To her surprise, the deck of the Cerys was deserted.

Where had everyone gone?