The Loch Ness Legacy

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The jolt against the keel came stronger this time and knocked the tiny rowboat sideways, causing Charles Darwin to cling to the bow gunwale for fear of being thrown into Loch Ness’s chilly waters. Steadying himself, he shielded the lantern in his hand to keep the pelting rain from dousing their sole light source.

“Can you see what it is?” John Edmonstone asked as he strained at the oars. The freed slave’s eyes were glassy with terror, and his thick Guyanese accent nearly overwhelmed his English.

Darwin angled the lantern downward, but it was no use. The loch’s peat-rich water was murky under the best circumstances but completely impenetrable now that the sudden downpour had added its obscuring veil to the gloom of twilight. He swiveled his head to get his bearings.

“I can’t even see the shore. Could it be that we’re off course?”

Darwin received only a grim frown in reply and went back to searching for a landmark while watching for any sign of the monstrous wake they’d first encountered ten minutes ago. If they weren’t able to detect the lights from the village of Drumnadrochit, they might turn in circles for hours. If the boat were upended in the frigid water, their corpses would either wash ashore or sink to the abyssal depths of the loch.

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