Goldwater/Deathwater?

Deathwater Island

GET BACK!” [shouted Edmund.] “Back from the water. All of you. At once!!”
They all did and stared at him.
“Look,” said Edmund, “look at the toes of my boots.”
“They look a bit yellow,” began Eustace.
“They’re gold, solid gold,” interrupted Edmund. “Look at them. Feel them. The leather’s pulled
away from it already. And they’re as heavy as lead.”
“By Aslan!” said Caspian. “You don’t mean to say—?”
“Yes, I do,” said Edmund. “That water turns things into gold. It turned the spear into gold, that’s
why it got so heavy. And it was just lapping against my feet (it’s a good thing I wasn’t barefoot) and it
turned the toe-caps into gold. . . . And what a narrow shave we’ve
had.”
“Narrow indeed,” said Reepicheep. “Anyone’s finger, anyone’s foot, anyone’s whisker, or
anyone’s tail, might have slipped into the water at any moment.”
“All the same,” said Caspian, “we may as well test it.” He stooped down and wrenched up a spray
of heather. Then, very cautiously, he knelt beside the pool and dipped it in. It was heather that he
dipped; what he drew out was a perfect model of heather made of the purest gold, heavy and soft as
lead.
“The King who owned this island,” said Caspian slowly, and his face flushed as he spoke, “would
soon be the richest of all Kings of the world. I claim this land forever as a Narnian possession. It
shall be called Goldwater Island. And I bind all of you to secrecy. No one must know of this. Not
even Drinian—on pain of death, do you hear?”
“Who are you talking to?” said Edmund. “I’m no subject of yours. If anything it’s the other way
round. I am one of the four ancient sovereigns of Narnia and you are under allegiance to the High King
my brother.”
“So it has come to that, King Edmund, has it?” said Caspian, laying his hand on his sword-hilt.
“Oh, stop it, both of you,” said Lucy. “That’s the worst of doing anything with boys. You’re all
such swaggering, bullying idiots—oooh!—” Her voice died away into a gasp. And everyone else saw
what she had seen.
Across the grey hillside above them—grey, for the heather was not yet in bloom—without noise,
and without looking at them, and shining as if he were in bright sunlight though the sun had in fact gone
in, passed with slow pace the hugest lion that human eyes have ever seen. . . . They knew it was
Aslan.
And nobody ever saw how or where he went. They looked at one another like people waking from
sleep.
“What were we talking about?” said Caspian. “Have I been making rather an ass of myself?”
“Sire,” said Reepicheep, “this is a place with a curse on it. Let us get back on board at once. And
if I might have the honor of naming this island, I should call it Deathwater.”


—The Voyage of the Dawn Treader