The Golden Anchor

by Cameron Stelzer

  ‘That’s no excuse!’ Whisker snapped, refusing to give an inch. ‘I’m young and reckless, too – you’ve said it yourself – but I don’t abandon my family to go on some ego-driven adventure to prove myself to the world.’

  Rat Bait was silent.

  ‘Well?’ Whisker said, waiting for a response.

  ‘Ye’re right,’ Rat Bait said, conceding defeat. ‘Ye’re twice the rat I’ll ever be – you an’ Anso an’ every other Win’erbottom. An’ maybe that be the reason I left.’

  ‘And did you find what you were looking for?’ Whisker asked through clenched teeth. ‘Did your conquests and victories make you feel worthy to be a Winterbottom?’

  Rat Bait shook his head. ‘No. No, they did not.’

  ‘Then how did they make you feel?’ Whisker snapped. ‘Tell me. I deserve an answer.’

  ‘Empty,’ Rat Bait said simply. ‘I felt empty. An’ I realised that everythin’ I was lookin’ for was everythin’ I left behind.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you go back?’ Whisker asked.

  ‘I be afraid o’ what I’d find,’ Rat Bait said. ‘I be afraid that Molly be remarryin’ and Anso be forgettin’ ‘bout his only son.’

  ‘Well you were wrong,’ Whisker said, his tone softening slightly. And then, almost in a whisper, ‘No one forgot about you. Molly was still waiting for you on the day she died.’

  ‘So Molly be gone then?’ Rat Bait asked sadly.

  ‘Yes,’ Whisker said, seeing heartbreak in Rat Bait’s eyes. ‘The plague took her, just before I was born.’ He glanced across at Ruby, sitting expressionlessly on the stump. She had lost her entire family in the plague and he couldn’t mention the word without thinking of her.

  Ruby said nothing. Her eye remained locked on Rat Bait. With her red hood pulled low over her face and her body framed by dark green pine needles, Whisker had the sudden recollection of another story Rat Bait had once told him.

  ‘The Lover’s Labyrinth,’ he thought aloud. ‘The rose maze from the Pirate Cup.’

  ‘What ‘bout the maze?’ Rat Bait said, lines of pain etched across his face.

  ‘The story you told me,’ Whisker said, ‘it was about Molly, wasn’t it? She was with you in the maze?’

  ‘Aye,’ Rat Bait sighed. ‘Molly be the one.’

  ‘What story?’ Horace asked, unable to stay silent any longer.

  At first, Rat Bait appear unwilling to speak, but after staring at the ground for several seconds he began to mumble hesitantly, ‘On the farm above Two Shillin’s Cove, there be a twistin’ maze o’ thorny rose bushes. The walls o’ the maze bloom with snow white roses every summer, but in the centre o’ the maze, there be a single bush o’ blood red roses. For many years, a race be held between young lovers o’ the district. The first couple out o’ the maze with a red rose in their grasp be crowned the Soul Mates of Summer …’ His voice drifted off and he continued to stare at the pine needles at his feet.

  ‘And?’ Horace encouraged.

  It was Whisker that spoke. ‘Rat Bait entered the race with my grandmother, Molly – and they won.’

  ‘So what happened next?’ Horace asked.

  ‘Autumn happened,’ Rat Bait said bluntly, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. ‘We be married within the week – then summer ended an’ things fell apart.’

  ‘Oh,’ Horace said, his enthusiasm squashed. ‘That’s certainly no happily ever after …’ There was an awkward silence. Horace, still looking rather bamboozled about Rat Bait’s story, picked up the stolen fountain pen and began drawing something on a scrap of newspaper.

  Rat Bait eventually continued, ‘I thought we be the perfect couple – a beautiful young circus performer an’ her dashin’ sailor husband. But like so many things in life, I be wrong. As a newly married rat, I convinced meself that I be entitled to a ship o’ me own an’ a crew to command. But when I approached Anso ‘bout it, he insisted that I serve me apprenticeship first. I kept askin’ him, an’ he kept givin’ me the same answer: Ye be too young. Ye be too headstrong. When I finally grew angry an’ demanded me inheritance, Molly, in her wisdom, took Anso’s side.’

  Rat Bait sighed. ‘I hated her for it at the time, but lookin’ back, I knew she be right. I be far too reckless to handle the responsibility o’ a ship an’ its crew. But bein’ who I be, I packed me bags, scrounged whatever gold I could get me paws on, and set off to prove meself. Frustrated ‘bout how I been treated, I abandoned the name Ernest in favour o’ a name I read on a box o’ poison – Rat Bait. From that day forth I never spoke about me past with anyone. With me new identity, I served on many crews before Ruby’s grandfather, Ratsputin – who ye all know as the Hermit – offered me a position on the good ship Princess Pie.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Horace said, pointing to two family trees he had sketched on the back of the newspaper. ‘And that’s where Anso’s Forgotten Map came into your possession. And the rest is history.’

  ‘The story doesn’t end there,’ Ruby said, staring at Horace’s drawing and voicing her opinion for the first time. ‘From what my grandfather told us, Anso never intended for Ernest to see the map. He was afraid it would fall into wicked paws, so gave it to my grandfather, a trustworthy rat, for safe keeping.’ She rose from her seat and glared at Rat Bait. ‘Wicked paws seems an appropriate description of a greedy son demanding his inheritance, don’t you think?’

  Whisker stepped forward, gesturing for Ruby to sit down. ‘What’s done is done,’ he said evenly. ‘Despite who the map was intended for, it led us to the Book of Knowledge, something we couldn’t have done without my gra –’ he couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words, ‘– without Rat Bait.’

  Ruby crossed her swords, refusing to move. ‘You’ve changed your tune pretty quickly, Whisker. One minute you’re yelling at him like he’s the embodiment of evil and, the next minute, you’re telling the rest of us to calm down. Don’t I have a right to be angry with him? After all, you’re not the only one to be hurt by Rat Bait’s lies and deceit. He abandoned the Hermit on the Island of Destiny, then ran his beloved Princess Pie aground. That in its own right is enough to boil any boatswain’s blood.’

  ‘I can explain the ship –’ Rat Bait began.

  ‘I’m not finished!’ Ruby hissed. ‘On top of everything, he lied to my family and then led us to believe that my grandfather was the villain, when it was him all along.’ She narrowed her gaze at the young apprentice. ‘Or is that something you’ve forgotten, Whisker?’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten anything,’ Whisker said. ‘And I haven’t forgotten that we dumped all that pain and hurt behind on the island – the island of second chances.’

  Ruby snorted incredulously. ‘So you’re honestly telling me you’re not mad about what happened?’

  ‘Sure I’m mad,’ Whisker said, clenching his fists. ‘But I’m not mad with the rat that saved us on the Island of Destiny and I’m not mad with the rat that just rescued us from the web. I’m mad with the rat that deserted my grandmother. I’m mad with Ernest Winterbottom.’

  ‘Err, Whisker,’ Horace interrupted. ‘The rat that just rescued us is Ernest Winterbottom.’

  ‘Is he?’ Whisker asked cryptically. ‘Or did Rat Bait leave Ernest Winterbottom behind on the island with the rest of his lies?’

  All eyes turned to Rat Bait.

  ‘I appreciate ye standin’ up for me, young Whisker,’ Rat Bait said humbly, ‘but Miss Ruby has a right to be angry. I’ve done some terrible things in the past, an’ hidin’ behind another name won’t change that fact. Perhaps I should have told ye the whole story sooner, but I been afraid o’ losin’ me second chance.’

  Horace gave Ruby a light jab with his stump. ‘Those don’t sound like the words of the scandalous Ernest Winterbottom. Perhaps Whisker is right. Maybe Ernest Winterbottom is nothing more than a distant memory marooned on an onion-scented island.’

  Ruby let out a long sigh and lowered herself back down. ‘Cursed apprentice with his forgive-and-forget attit
ude. He does this every time. We’re supposed to be a band of vengeful pirates – not a convent of saintly sailors. I’d slap him in the face if my paw weren’t stuck to my sword.’ She gave Whisker a look that said she wasn’t serious about the slap, then shifted her attention back to Rat Bait. ‘Alright, Ratbag. We have enough enemies as it is without adding you to the list. If our gracious leader, Whisker, believes you’ve left your wicked streak behind, then who am I to argue?’

  Rat Bait nodded meekly.

  ‘But don’t push your luck,’ Ruby added. ‘I can only use Eddie as my punching bag for so long.’ She thudded her boot onto the gerbil for dramatic effect, her sword jabbing Horace in the process.

  ‘Ouch!’ he exclaimed, leaping up from the stump. ‘I’m the innocent one here.’

  Ruby rolled her eye. ‘Call it payback for a past crime. Now, be a dear and fetch my earring and necklace.’

  While Horace began scrounging through the items Rat Bait had dropped on the ground, Rat Bait stepped towards Whisker, a hopeful look in his old, brown eyes.

  ‘And what about us?’ he asked.

  Whisker wasn’t sure if he had fully come to terms with what had just happened, but he knew that, deep down inside, Rat Bait was the same old jolly rascal he had been an hour ago – and that at least deserved some acknowledgement.

  ‘We’re okay,’ Whisker said, putting on a brave face. ‘I’ve kept my share of dark secrets, too.’ He thought of something else and added, ‘And what rat can stay mad with his grandpa, right?’

  A smile touched Rat Bait’s wrinkled lips. ‘Grandpa Rat Bait. That might take some gettin’ used to.’

  Whisker glanced across at his sister, Anna, standing a short distance away with Balthazar. Throughout the heated conversation she had been attempting to juggle three small pine cones while the swan honked in encouragement. The spiky brown objects were almost as big as she was.

  ‘I never knew Molly,’ Whisker said quietly to Rat Bait, ‘but Dad sees a lot of her in Anna.’

  ‘Aye,’ Rat Bait agreed. ‘It’s the performer in them both. And the eyes. They have the same deep brown eyes. It be the first thing I noticed when I cut li’l Anna down from the web. I thought to meself this wee lass has me dear Molly’s eyes – though I never dreamed she be me granddaughter.’

  ‘Do you miss Molly?’ Whisker asked him.

  ‘I missed her from the day I left,’ Rat Bait said longingly. ‘An’ I often dreamed o’ returnin’ to her in all me triumphant glory – the capt’n o’ me own ship with gold an’ jewels aplenty. But there be always another battle to fight an’ another ship to rob. And then one day I realised I be but a shadow of the rat Molly once loved …’ His words drifted off, his mind lost in the past.

  ‘Ye know, Whisker, it ain’t easy tryin’ to remember what I had to forget, but when I see that wee child, Anna, I can almost imagine I’m back in the rose maze with Molly runnin’ beside me. Sure I be confused ‘bout which direction to take, but I know I got someone with me every step o’ the way. An’ that be a mighty comfortin’ thought.’

  Whisker glimpsed Ruby out of the corner of his eye and remembered his own desperate dash through the maze – two rats, paw in paw, and one scarlet rose. Like Ernest and Molly, they had won the race. And like Ernest, Whisker had left in the dead of night without even saying goodbye.

  There was no comfort for Whisker. All he felt was shame.

  ‘We’re more alike than you know,’ he said.

  Rat Bait shook his head knowingly. ‘Don’t confuse yer actions with the reasons for doin’ them, me boy.’

  ‘But –’ Whisker began.

  ‘An’ don’t think for a moment that because we’re related, ye’re destined to make the same mistakes that I did,’ Rat Bait added quickly. ‘We might start at the same port but we’re sailin’ to different destinations.’

  ‘And yet we both ended up here,’ Whisker argued.

  ‘Aye,’ Rat Bait agreed. ‘But our journeys be very different.’

  ‘I guess,’ Whisker conceded.

  ‘Let me put it this way,’ Rat Bait said. ‘Some o’ us spend our lives tryin’ to be different. We distinguish ourselves from the pack while pretendin’ we’re superior to everyone else. Others, like ye, young Whisker, have their hearts set on makin’ a difference. It be this quality that compels Horace an’ Ruby an’ the rest o’ yer friends to follow ye into danger an’ risk their lives for the causes ye stand for. Not because ye radiate uniqueness, but because ye radiate conviction.’

  Rat Bait extended his right arm towards Whisker. In his open paw lay the gold anchor pendant, its four sets of engraved initials facing upwards.

  ‘One day ye’ll be a great capt’n like Anso,’ he said. ‘May this remind ye of where ye’ve come from, an’ where ye’re headin’.’

  Whisker looked at it hesitantly.

  ‘But Anso intended for you to have this,’ he said.

  Rat Bait shook his head. ‘Anso intended for Ernest to have his pendant, not a scurvy dog like Rat Bait. ‘Besides,’ he added with a grin, ‘me neck be too fat for such a delicate item.’

  Whisker smiled at the joke but kept his paws by his side.

  ‘Go on,’ Rat Bait said, thrusting his arm forward. ‘Take it, before I change me mind and give it to yer father, Robert, instead. His initials ain’t been crossed out yet.’

  ‘So you’re coming with us?’ Whisker said, his face alive with excitement.

  ‘O’ course I’m coming with ye,’ Rat Bait laughed, throwing the pendant to Whisker. ‘I’ve got a son and daughter-in-law to meet, ‘aven’t I? An’ ye could do with a bit o’ maturity on ye team.’

  ‘Humph,’ Ruby snorted in the background. ‘I’d take a map of the prison over maturity any day.’

  ‘I don’t have no map,’ Rat Bait said with a sly smile. ‘But I might have somethin’ else o’ value.’

  ‘What?’ Horace asked, looking up from his hook as he tried to bend it back into shape.

  ‘It’s a story,’ Rat Bait said, ‘only a story, but it concerns that wee gold anchor in Whisker’s paws.’

  The Key

  Whisker stared down at his beloved anchor, wondering what other secrets the tiny object had in store for him.

  ‘The symbol of hope,’ he said, holding it up by its torn black cord.

  ‘Aye,’ Rat Bait agreed. ‘It be a fine symbol o’ hope. But I have a hunch this pendant be much more than a symbol, an’ much more than a family heirloom.’ He glanced warily down at Eddie, who was acting as a footstool for Ruby’s injured leg. Satisfied the gerbil was still unconscious, he lowered his voice to a whisper and said, ‘I overheard somethin’ in me youth, a strange thing Anso once said, an’ it’s puzzled me ever since.’

  ‘Oooh,’ Horace said excitedly, leaning forward on the stump. ‘I love a good Anso story.’

  Looking more like his usual jovial self, Rat Bait winked at Horace and began, ‘It happened when I be very young. We’d just moved from Freeforia to Aladrya an’ livin’ in a brand-new house in Port Abalilly. Surrounded by lavish boutiques an’ sweet smellin’ candle shops, it be the finest buildin’ in the port. With its beautiful furnishin’s, airy curtains an’ ornate plaster façade, I thought I be a prince in me own palace.

  ‘Anso be busy with his admiral duties most days, so I amused meself runnin’ up an’ down the spiral staircase an’ playin’ hide-and-seek with the servants’ children. One wintry day, when I be hidin’ under a couch in Anso’s study, he walked into the room an’ sat down at his desk, unaware that I be there. As I lay silently, waitin’ for him to leave, I overheard him talkin’ to himself. I don’t remember all o’ his words, only the strange riddle he kept repeatin’.

  ‘Riddle!’ Horace squeaked in delight. ‘Anso was the king of riddles. What did he say?’

  ‘I’ll write it down for ye,’ Rat Bait said, picking up the fountain pen and tearing off a blank strip from the back of the newspaper. Using his top hat as a small table he wrote four lines of text, then read them aloud
.

  ‘The strange thing be,’ Rat Bait said, continuing his story, ‘when I peered up at Anso, his paws be claspin’ his anchor pendant. He hurriedly left the room without spottin’ me an’ that be that. I never been much o’ a riddle solver, so I pushed the memory to the back o’ me mind an’ never mentioned it to anyone. I presumed Anso took his pendant to his grave an’ with it went its secret. But here it be, in the clutches o’ his great-grandson –’

  ‘– who happens to be a master of riddle solving,’ Horace said, clapping Whisker on the back with his hook.

  ‘So the Book of Knowledge wasn’t the only treasure Anso hid from searching eyes,’ Whisker said, already deep in thought. ‘And you think this treasure might be valuable enough to buy the fox’s freedom and secure my parent’s release?’

  ‘Aye, that be me hunch,’ Rat Bait said.

  ‘And what makes you certain this treasure is still out there?’ Ruby asked sceptically. ‘You overheard that riddle a long time ago.’

  ‘It all comes down to this,’ Rat Bait said, ‘Anso be rich. Extremely rich.’

  ‘He didn’t die rich,’ Whisker said, puzzled. ‘My father said he was comfortable in retirement, but there was nothing to indicate he was living it up in style.’

  ‘So where did his fortune go, then?’ Rat Bait said, continuing his line of reasoning. ‘He didn’t gamble. He didn’t squander money on friv’lous pleasures. Anso’s wife, me mam, died when I be young, so she didn’t spend it. An’ after I left, Anso’s only heir must have been yer father.’

  ‘Robert didn’t receive a big inheritance,’ Whisker admitted. ‘As far as I know, the only thing Anso ever gave him was the pendant –’ He stopped himself. ‘You don’t think Anso told him about the riddle, do you?’

  ‘Unlikely,’ Ruby said, before Rat Bait could answer. ‘You never mentioned your father passing down any secret riddle when he gave you that anchor.’

  ‘True,’ Whisker considered.