Excerpt
Seaweed was a common sight along the beach, and was often used as a fertiliser. Unfortunately, it didn't pay well enough to drag it from the ocean and then cart up the long flight of steps to the city.
However, it wasn't the seaweed Pentonville was interested in. No, he could just make out a bronze-coloured flash of metal amongst the matted green strands. That was odd in itself, because anything metal should have sunk to the ocean floor.
The matted seaweed rode a wave, and as the angle changed, Pentonville realised the flash of bronze belonged to a figure lying on the natural raft. From the parts he could see, the figure appeared to be armoured from head to toe. Even if it wasn't wearing any valuable rings, its armour might fetch a pretty penny. More importantly, it would be one in the eye for Islington.
He was about to dash into the sea and pull the matted seaweed to the shore, thus claiming his prize. However, he was still irked at Islington, and he decided they might as well both get wet. So, he blew a piercing whistle, and when his fellow guard turned to look, Pentonville pointed at the seaweed. He saw Islington look, then look again, before hurrying into the surf. The water quickly reached his waist, and Pentonville realised any rings the figure might be wearing could vanish into Islington's pockets first. So, he threw aside his sword and charged into the water, gritting his teeth at the freezing cold.
They reached the seaweed together, and Pentonville's hopes were dashed. It wasn't an armoured figure lying face down on the raft, it was some battered old statue. Discoloured, dented and worthless, it had obviously been discarded years ago. He took one of its hands in his, raising the arm with effort, and scowled. The thing didn't even have any rings on.
"There you go," said Islington, with a laugh. "I said you could have the next find, and I'm a man of my word."
Pentonville shot him a venomous glance. The dented statue was so much junk, but he wasn't about to admit it. "Bet it's worth more than that tatty little ring you found. Hey, maybe it's got emeralds for eyes!"
"Don't be ridiculous."
Even so, Islington lent a hand, and together they rolled the statue onto its back. The eyes were yellow, and they stared at the sky with a look of resignation. They were surprisingly life-like, and they certainly weren't gems.
"I wonder who it belonged to?" said Islington.
"Who cares?" snapped Pentonville. "And who'd want it back? Look at the state of it!"
"It's a pity it wasn't rowing a boat. We could have filed our report and got back to the watch house in time for cards."
Pentonville groaned. Reports! This dented statue would take hours to write up, and then there was the question of carrying the thing all the way up the stone steps to the city. "I wish we'd never found it," he muttered.
They looked up the beach. They looked down the beach. They were alone.
"We could bury it," suggested Islington.
