Read Online The Cortés Enigma by John Paul Davis - Free Book Online
Authors: John Paul Davis
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had a few belongings, perhaps what we’re seeing right now – nothing out of the ordinary.”
Ben smiled thoughtfully. “I see.”
“I’m very sorry I can’t be of more help. In my profession, trying to find things of this type can be compared to looking for the needle in the proverbial haystack. Now, is there anything else I can do for you? Are you okay for transport?”
“That won’t be necessary. Thanks for your time, Mr Nicholl.” He walked away, heading toward the door. “Oh, Mr Nicholl, I almost forgot. Any idea who it was discovered the boat?”
“If what I read is correct, the man you’re looking for is a chap called Kernow. Peter Kernow. If you head up to Garrison Hill and ask around, I’m sure you’ll find him.”
“Much obliged, Mr Nicholl.”
5
8:00am
The next port of call was the dining room, located just off the lobby. In keeping with the character of the inn, the walls were painted white and reflected the light of the rising sun in the morning and the overhead chandeliers in the evening. Twenty tables, accommodating two, four or six people, were placed evenly throughout, their brown tops covered with white tablecloths, empty wineglasses, white side plates, and various items of cutlery. An appealing aroma of cereal, tea, coffee and toast wafted through the room and beyond, accompanied by the smell of recently cooked bacon, sausage, mushrooms and eggs from the nearby kitchen.
Chris had appeared, sitting alone at a two-seater table, scoffing down pancakes, toast and cereal. “Hey, I just knocked on your room. When did you sneak down?”
Ben sat down opposite, sipping a black coffee. “I was just having a chat with the owner. Apparently the boat was found by a guy named Kernow. I thought I might check it out.”
Chris answered while chewing his pancake. “Give us ten minutes. I’ll come with you.”
Ben bit his lip. “I have a better idea. You still able to read the handwriting in the diary okay?”
“Only what you’ve seen. I’ve had to write it out to make sense.”
“The diary will probably be the clue.” He glanced round, wondering if anyone was listening. As far as he could see, no one was.
He gestured Chris closer. “You stay here and work on the diary. I’ll knock on your door when I’m back.”
8:15am
The Isles of Scilly have always been one of the least populated areas of the United Kingdom. Situated off the south-west coast of Cornwall, they form an archipelago of some 145 islands and islets, the majority of which are uninhabited. Supposedly it was once a single landmass. According to accounts from the fourth century, a single island named Ennor spanned over thirty miles in length, sticking out into the Atlantic toward Brittany. Cornish folklore also speaks of the Scillies once joining Land’s End as part of a mighty land mass named Lyonesse that was taken under the sea in the late 1000s. The tale rose to later prominence in the 1800s in the poetry of Alfred Lord Tennyson, leading to the Scillies becoming immortalised in the King Arthur myth.
St Mary’s was the main hub of activity on the isles. One of only six inhabited islands, measuring an area of 6.4 square kilometres and with a population of precisely 1,666 (1,668 including Ben and Chris?), it was officially the largest of the islands both in area and permanent residents. Supposedly the island was once visited by the Phoenicians, as recorded by the ancient Greeks, and as the centuries passed, the isles became the haunt of early refugee bishops, Romans, Saxons and everything that followed. In the Norse period, the island was supposedly visited by at least one king before becoming integrated into Cornwall under the rule of the Norman kings and forming part of the Earldom, and later Duchy, of Cornwall.
The modern-day island had barely changed over the centuries. Visually, it was an impressive
Ben smiled thoughtfully. “I see.”
“I’m very sorry I can’t be of more help. In my profession, trying to find things of this type can be compared to looking for the needle in the proverbial haystack. Now, is there anything else I can do for you? Are you okay for transport?”
“That won’t be necessary. Thanks for your time, Mr Nicholl.” He walked away, heading toward the door. “Oh, Mr Nicholl, I almost forgot. Any idea who it was discovered the boat?”
“If what I read is correct, the man you’re looking for is a chap called Kernow. Peter Kernow. If you head up to Garrison Hill and ask around, I’m sure you’ll find him.”
“Much obliged, Mr Nicholl.”
5
8:00am
The next port of call was the dining room, located just off the lobby. In keeping with the character of the inn, the walls were painted white and reflected the light of the rising sun in the morning and the overhead chandeliers in the evening. Twenty tables, accommodating two, four or six people, were placed evenly throughout, their brown tops covered with white tablecloths, empty wineglasses, white side plates, and various items of cutlery. An appealing aroma of cereal, tea, coffee and toast wafted through the room and beyond, accompanied by the smell of recently cooked bacon, sausage, mushrooms and eggs from the nearby kitchen.
Chris had appeared, sitting alone at a two-seater table, scoffing down pancakes, toast and cereal. “Hey, I just knocked on your room. When did you sneak down?”
Ben sat down opposite, sipping a black coffee. “I was just having a chat with the owner. Apparently the boat was found by a guy named Kernow. I thought I might check it out.”
Chris answered while chewing his pancake. “Give us ten minutes. I’ll come with you.”
Ben bit his lip. “I have a better idea. You still able to read the handwriting in the diary okay?”
“Only what you’ve seen. I’ve had to write it out to make sense.”
“The diary will probably be the clue.” He glanced round, wondering if anyone was listening. As far as he could see, no one was.
He gestured Chris closer. “You stay here and work on the diary. I’ll knock on your door when I’m back.”
8:15am
The Isles of Scilly have always been one of the least populated areas of the United Kingdom. Situated off the south-west coast of Cornwall, they form an archipelago of some 145 islands and islets, the majority of which are uninhabited. Supposedly it was once a single landmass. According to accounts from the fourth century, a single island named Ennor spanned over thirty miles in length, sticking out into the Atlantic toward Brittany. Cornish folklore also speaks of the Scillies once joining Land’s End as part of a mighty land mass named Lyonesse that was taken under the sea in the late 1000s. The tale rose to later prominence in the 1800s in the poetry of Alfred Lord Tennyson, leading to the Scillies becoming immortalised in the King Arthur myth.
St Mary’s was the main hub of activity on the isles. One of only six inhabited islands, measuring an area of 6.4 square kilometres and with a population of precisely 1,666 (1,668 including Ben and Chris?), it was officially the largest of the islands both in area and permanent residents. Supposedly the island was once visited by the Phoenicians, as recorded by the ancient Greeks, and as the centuries passed, the isles became the haunt of early refugee bishops, Romans, Saxons and everything that followed. In the Norse period, the island was supposedly visited by at least one king before becoming integrated into Cornwall under the rule of the Norman kings and forming part of the Earldom, and later Duchy, of Cornwall.
The modern-day island had barely changed over the centuries. Visually, it was an impressive
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