After the evening meal, Vandiyathevan met privately with the head of the lighthouse and explained that he needed to travel to Lanka without delay. The venerable man, known as Thyagavidanga Karaiyar, expressed his regret.

“In earlier times, there were many large and small boats along this shore. Now, all of them have gone to Sethukkarai. They have been sent to aid our army stationed in Lanka. I own two boats myself. Of those, my son left yesterday, taking two men with him. I do not know when he will return. What can be done?” he said.

“Who are those men? Your daughter mentioned that they seemed rather suspicious,” asked Vandiyathevan.

“Yes, I too did not like the look of them. I do not know who they are, nor do I know their purpose. They carried the palm insignia of the Pazhuvettarayar. Even so, I would not have sent my son with them. But my daughter-in-law is extremely greedy for money. When she heard them promise a bag full of gold, she insisted that her husband must go…”

“What is this, sir? Is it proper that your son should obey the words of a young girl with no experience of the world?” said Vandiyathevan. Then, hesitating a little, he added, “Forgive me, that is your family’s concern!”

“My boy, there is nothing wrong in your asking. My family is under a curse. My son…” The old man faltered.

At that moment, Vandiyathevan remembered what Sendhan Amudhan had told him about this family.

“Is your son unable to speak?” he asked.

“Yes; but how did you know?” the elder replied.

Vandiyathevan then told him about Sendhan Amudhan, his mother, and how he had stayed at their house. “Aha! So you are that man? News of you has already reached here before you arrived. They say you are being searched for all over the land?”

“That may be so; but I do not know anything about it.”

“Now I understand why you are so eager to go to Lanka.”

“Elder! What you are thinking is not correct. I am not going to Lanka merely to save my own life. I am carrying a very important letter to someone there. If you wish, you may see it.”

“That is not necessary. It is enough for me that the young princess has written about you. But at this moment, I am unable to give you the help you seek!”

“You mentioned there was another boat?”

“There is a boat. But there is no one to row it. If you and your friend are willing to row it yourselves, I will give it to you…”

“Neither of us knows how to row a boat. In fact, I am a little afraid of water. Especially the sea…”

“Even if you know how to row, those without experience cannot row a boat in the sea. Once you go a little distance, the shore will disappear. Then you will be left to wander, lost, not knowing which direction to go.”

“I am not taking the man who came with me. I must leave him here to gather herbs. You must help me by suggesting some other way.”

“There is a way. But it is not easily accomplished. You must try! If fortune is on your side…”

“What must I do? Elder, tell me and I will surely do it,” said Vandiyathevan.

“In this region, there is no one as skilled at rowing a boat as Poonguzhali. She has gone to Lanka many times. I will speak to her; you too must ask her!”

“Call her now; let us ask her and see.”

“No, let it be; she is extremely stubborn. If you ask her now and she says ‘No,’ then it will be impossible to change her mind later. Tomorrow, at an opportune moment, I will speak to her. You too, try to ask her when you find her alone!”

Thus saying, Thiyagavidanga Karaiyar turned and walked towards the lighthouse. Vandiyathevan lay down on the veranda of his house. The physician’s son who had come with him had already fallen asleep. Fatigue from his long journey weighed heavily on Vandiyathevan’s eyelids, and soon he too drifted into sleep.

Suddenly, his sleep was broken. He heard the sound of a door opening. With some effort, Vandiyathevan forced open his tired eyelids. He saw a figure stepping out from inside the house. He looked more closely. It was the figure of a woman. The light from the lighthouse fell upon her form. Ah! It was Poonguzhali! There was no doubt.

What was it she had said to him? “Follow me at midnight! I will show you my lovers!” At the time, he had thought it was merely a jest. But now, here she was, truly rising in the middle of the night and leaving! Where was she going? If she were going to meet her lover—or lovers—would she have told him so openly? Would she have said, ‘If you follow me, I will show you’? There must be some mysterious meaning behind this! Or perhaps… Whatever it was, why shouldn’t he follow her and see for himself? Tomorrow, he needed to persuade her to row the boat to Lanka. If he followed her now, it might help his cause. If she were to encounter any danger, and he were to save her, she might be more willing to agree to his request tomorrow.

Vandiyathevan rose silently, careful not to make a sound. He followed the path Poonguzhali had taken. He remembered well the experience he had suffered earlier that evening when he had fallen into the muddy pit. He did not wish to repeat that ordeal. Therefore, he was determined not to let Poonguzhali out of his sight.

For a short distance from the lighthouse, the land was open and clear. Thus, Poonguzhali’s figure was visible. There was no difficulty in following the path she took. He quickened his pace, thinking to catch up and confront her. But it was not