His head pierced the surface to see the two ends of the ships literally gone. Jagged planks and broken oars stuck out at odd angles around the circumference of the smoking holes. Water gushed into the hulls in torrents. The jiggermast of one ship toppled into her mizzenmast and her entire crew leapt overboard in panic. Rudderless, crewless and beyond repair, the ships slowly drifted apart, sinking lower and lower as their water-logged hulls were dragged under the waves.
A safe distance away, Chatterbeak’s feathered body bobbed on the surface of the water, with the two rats treading water beside him.
‘Brittle birdseed,’ he moaned, coming to his senses. ‘What just happened?’
‘Crashlanding,’ Ruby coughed, spitting out a mouthful of saltwater.
‘But you’re alright now, Chatterbeak,’ Whisker reassured him. ‘Just keep paddling. The Apple Pie is on its way.’
‘It’s not just on its way,’ Ruby exclaimed, swivelling around in panic. ‘It’s about to collide with us!’
Whisker looked up to see the figurehead of the Apple Pie bearing down on them. The golden pie in the Mer-Mouse’s paws extended forward like a battering ram.
‘Swim!’ he shouted. ‘Swim!’
Flapping desperately with one wing, Chatterbeak raised himself out of the water, narrowly escaping a collision with the figurehead. Leaving a trail of arrows in their wake, the two rats paddled frantically after him.
The Apple Pie continued its unwavering course, surging past the animals without slowing.
‘Catch,’ boomed a deep voice from the bulwark.
A thick rope tumbled down, splashing into the water beside them, and the three animals converged as one. Whisker had only just taken hold of the rope when it began moving upwards, to the chant of ‘Heave! Heave! Heave!’
Waterlogged and wounded, he was hauled over the bulwark, and collapsed exhausted at the feet of Fred and Horace.
‘What happened?’ Horace asked in a flurry.
‘Chatterbeak – needs – help,’ Whisker panted, waving a weary arm at the parrot’s wing.
‘We’ll take care of him,’ Pete said, hobbling over with Athena. ‘Help him down to the galley, Fred, while I fetch my surgeon’s bag.’
Propping up the dazed bird with his powerful shoulders, Fred began leading Chatterbeak towards the stairwell, with Athena and Smudge in tow.
‘Wreckage ahead,’ the Captain shouted from the helm. ‘I need eyes on the water. Now!’
‘Come on,’ Horace said, pulling Whisker up with his hook. ‘You sunk it, you sight it.’
Whisker scampered past the training cannon to see the giant pair of red underpants hanging in tatters and a gaping hole in the corner of the deck.
‘That looks nasty,’ he said.
‘Nothing a few nails won’t fix,’ Horace said, reaching the bow. ‘You should see the other guys.’
Whisker clambered onto the bowsprit and peered ahead. A short distance away, the two warships were almost fully submerged. Only the tops of their masts were visible above the rolling waves.
Whisker held up Ruby’s spyglass for a clearer look.
‘Turn a little to your starboard side, Captain,’ he called out. ‘And then ease her through the gap.’
‘I can’t slow my pace,’ the Captain shouted. ‘There’s a queue of pirates on my tail, and a Dreadnaught bringing up the rear.’
‘Then aim for the centre of the passage,’ Whisker responded hastily. ‘The water beyond those warships should be clear.’
He swung the spyglass around to see the Blood an’ Bones moving into the slipstream of the Apple Pie. The Van Diemen was close behind her, oars lowered, sail raised, working double-time to maintain her speed. A dozen Claw-of-War ships were in hot pursuit, led by the mighty Dreadnaught. In the distance, the flaming wreck of the Nutcracker stood out against the darkening ocean.
Whisker felt a lump in his throat.
‘Those poor chipmunks,’ he gasped, watching the flames leaping up the masts. ‘And the toads. Weren’t they on board?’
‘They were,’ Horace said. ‘But the only thing roasting on the Nutcracker now is acorns.’ He gestured to the Van Diemen. ‘The Tasmanian devils fished them out of the water just before the ship ignited.’
‘That was rather un-devilish of them,’ Whisker said.
‘Don’t start calling them saints or anything,’ Horace snorted. ‘The devils now have three sacks of gold and one very willing rowing crew.’
‘Ah,’ Whisker said, turning back to the passage. ‘I guess one good deed deserves another – or three others.’
To either side of the Apple Pie, the cliffs of the islands rose out of the ocean like giant stone gates, swung open in readiness. Tall and foreboding, they stood rigid and silent, guarding the way ahead. The wind, racing through the passage, seemed to whisper a warning in Whisker’s ears. ‘Beware. Take care …’
Whisker knew the Central Channel was his path to freedom, but something felt strangely wrong as the Apple Pie glided into the open stretch of water.
Beyond the starboard side of the ship, the Widow’s Web and the remaining handful of pirate vessels from the northern group were already ploughing through the choppy water, pursued by a host of Claw-of-War ships. In seconds, they would draw level with the Apple Pie.
‘Swing her port side, Captain,’ Whisker shouted. ‘The Widow’s Web is coming in fast.’
‘Roger that,’ the Captain replied, spinning the wheel. ‘And Whisker, see if you can locate that Crumbling Rock Islands map – if it’s still in one piece.’
‘Are you planning on taking a detour, Captain?’ Whisker called back.
‘If necessary,’ the Captain answered. ‘There’s little chance the old girl can outrun the Dreadnaught without the Eagle sail, but if we can locate a narrow escape passage, the larger warships may be forced to abandon the chase.’
‘I’ll look into it, Captain,’ Whisker said.
He shot a quick glance at the approaching islands and was just about to jump down from the bowsprit when a flicker of movement caught his eye.
Intrigued, he re-focused the spyglass on a passage to the south of the channel. Emerging through the sea spray, and flying the blue and gold flag of the Aladryan navy, was a strange-looking vessel. Squat and round, with a single sail, she resembled an enormous buoy or an inverted tortoise shell. Her ironclad hull rose high above the crashing waves, revealing three levels of gun decks. Tightly-packed cannons ran in unbroken circles around her entire hull, pointing threateningly in every direction.
Whisker had heard rumours that Thunderclaw had been expanding his fleet, but he had never dreamed the General would create a weapon as menacing as this.
As alarming as the discovery was, it wasn’t the three rows of cannons that sent Whisker’s tail into a spasm. Nor was it the four swivel guns mounted along the bulwark that prompted him to shout ‘ENEMY AHOY!’ at the top of his lungs. It was the sight of an entire fleet of these gunships emerging from the islands.
One by one, they sailed into view, riding the crosswind into the Central Channel. It was an ambush – Thunderclaw’s final blockade to stop the pirates from escaping the bay.
And the Pie Rats had blundered straight into it.
The Last Stand
‘Sweet mother of pearl!’ Horace exclaimed, rushing over to his companion at the bow of the ship. ‘And I thought twelve cannons was extreme. Each one of those gunships must have at least thirty.’
Whisker simply stared at the vessels, his mind searching desperately for an escape route, his heart refusing to give in. He’d been in dire situations before, but this gave a whole new meaning to the term in deep water. They were hemmed in on all sides by gunships, rock islands and Claw-of-War ships, and their one hope of an aerial evacuation lay injured below, unable to fly.
‘We could do with one of your last-minute plans right about now, Whisker,’ Ruby called down from the rigging.
‘Or at least something from your bag of magic tricks,’ Horace added.
>
Instinctively, Whisker moved his paw to his drawstring bag. Feeling nothing but the hem of his green tunic, he looked down to see an empty space below his belt. The bag and its contents, he realised, were sailing away with Sabre.
‘Sorry,’ he said glumly. ‘The tricks are all gone.’
‘Arr, don’t beat yourself up about it,’ Horace said, gesturing behind him to the training cannon. ‘I’m fresh out of cannon pies.’
‘And I doubt my arrows will be any use against those gunships,’ Ruby added, climbing down to the deck.
‘So what other options do we have?’ Horace asked. ‘White flags mean nothing to Thunderclaw, and we can’t just sail into that ambush and face a two-hundred-and-ten-gun salute with live ammunition.’
‘Then we rally our troops and face Thunderclaw with our swords raised high,’ the Captain commanded from the helm. ‘The Dreadnaught has to run out of ammunition sooner or later and we’re a match for any crew in paw-to-claw combat.’
Ruby and Horace nodded slowly.
Whisker remained motionless, his mind still searching for his third option. Memories floated into his consciousness. Words and pictures appeared before his eyes. But as hard as he tried to find a solution, the only idea that came to him involved crashing into an island.
‘Sails down and all paws on deck,’ the Captain bellowed.
The command broke Whisker from his thoughts and he rushed to join Ruby and Horace by the foremast. Working together, they lowered the two yards and the Apple Pie slowed to a crawl, pulling up beside the Widow’s Web in the centre of the channel. Looking around, Whisker saw the remaining pirate crews hauling in their own sails and steering their ships into a tight defence circle. Their masts were cracked, their hulls were leaking and their ammunition was as good as gone. It was to be a desperate last stand.
With the buzz of tiny wings, Smudge flew up the stairwell, closely followed by the lumbering figure of Fred.
CLOMP, patter, CLOMP. Pete took a little longer to reach the assembled rats.
‘How is our patient doing?’ the Captain asked, striding down from the helm.
‘He’s in Athena’s capable paws,’ Pete replied calmly. ‘I suspect the colourful lout will live.’ He glanced at the approaching warships and added with a note of alarm, ‘At least for the next two minutes.’
Whisker’s eyes flashed to the Dreadnaught to see her sails lowering and her hull turning in the water.
‘I hate to be the bearer of bad news,’ Pete said, ‘but that looks suspiciously like the old turn-and-point-your-cannons-at-your-enemy manoeuvre, which is usually followed by the blow-your-enemies-out-of-the-water manoeuvre.’
Horace gulped loudly. The others watched apprehensively as the Dreadnaught continued to turn side-on until her starboard cannons were aimed directly at the Apple Pie.
‘Something tells me that Thunderclaw still has plenty of ammunition left in reserve,’ Ruby said with a frown.
The edges of her frown dipped even further when the accompanying Claw-of-War ships followed the Dreadnaught’s lead and swivelled their broadsides towards the small circle of pirate ships.
‘Oh dear,’ Fred murmured. ‘Oh double dear. We’re in big, big trouble.’
Whisker felt his tail collapsing on the deck. A part of him knew it was always going to end this way. The fate of a pirate – outnumbered and outgunned, with nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. But in his defeat, he knew that Thunderclaw hadn’t won – far from it. Two-thirds of the Blue Claw’s once-glorious fleet lay sinking in the bay, their hulls decimated by the battle and the storm. And in minutes the setting sun, peeking out from under the storm clouds, would signal the end to the governor’s claim over the pink diamond mine.
Whisker touched his bare neck for the final time, knowing that his golden anchor and the quest it stood for would live on through the lives of one brave little rat and her second-chance grandfather.
Find them, Anna, he said to himself, hoping his silent thoughts were being carried across the waves, praying she knew he was thinking of her to the very end. Find Mum and Dad, and be a family again …
And that was all he could do – hope.
Blinking away the tears, he drew his green-handled scissor sword, and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his crewmates in the golden light of the evening.
He was a Pie Rat.
He was going to finish things like a Pie Rat.
‘Loyalty before all else,’ the Captain recited, raising his sword high.
‘Loyalty before all else, even pies!’ the crew chanted with gusto.
Whisker felt proud to stand among them. The pies were gone, but the loyalty remained strong. Together at the end, a mischief of rats, much maligned and misunderstood – the gentle giant Fred, towering high above his companions; the grumpy quartermaster Pete, scrawling insults on the deck; the steadfast Captain Black Rat, his eye fixed on the Dreadnaught. And there was no forgetting Smudge, the most dependable sidekick a pirate could ever wish for.
Whisker’s two best friends stood beside him. Horace, to his right, fidgeting like a small child. Ruby to his left, a sword in each paw.
‘I’ve been thinking about something, apprentice,’ she said, staring straight ahead to hide her emotions. ‘If things had turned out differently, well, you know …’
‘Know what?’ Horace said, poking his head out of the line. ‘Go on. Give us the gossip.’
Ruby turned and scowled at him. ‘If Thunderclaw wasn’t about to blast you to pieces, I’d do the job myself – with a blunt sword.’
Horace looked down at his stumpy body.
‘That would take a lot of hacking,’ he remarked. ‘I’m pretty muscular for a rat.’
‘And I’d enjoy every moment of it,’ she said, deadpan.
Despite his predicament, Whisker couldn’t help but smile.
‘That’s what I love about you guys,’ he said. ‘We’re standing here, facing insurmountable odds, and you can still find time to insult one another.’
‘And we love you, too, Whisker old matey,’ Horace said in a sailor’s drawl. ‘Isn’t that right, Ruby?’
Ruby’s complexion reddened.
‘Ah ha!’ Horace declared, pointing his hook at her flushed cheeks. ‘I knew it. I knew it from the start. It’s written all over your face. The look of lurrrve.’
Whisker felt his own cheeks flushing.
‘Do you mind?’ Pete snapped, stamping his pencil leg so hard he broke the lead. ‘I’m all for romance, but some of us would prefer to die quietly.’
‘Oh, and you call those dirty big cannons quiet, do you?’ Horace niggled.
‘I –’ Pete began.
KABOOM! The Dreadnaught’s dirty big cannons exploded as one. Flames and smoke leapt forth like the breath of a dragon, sending razor-edged rocks hurtling towards the Apple Pie. Abandoning their courageous last stand, the Pie Rats threw themselves face down on the deck.
A moment later the projectiles hit with a sickening, splintering CRUNCH! Fragments of deck boards exploded in all directions. Chunks of volcanic rock rained down like hail. Windows shattered. Sails tore. The giant metal knife supporting the mainsail crashed backwards over the side of the ship, leaving a gaping hole in the centre of the deck.
In seconds, the Apple Pie was nothing more than a crumbling, leaking wreck. Whisker raised his head and looked around. The deck looked like a bomb had just hit it (six bombs to be precise). But, miraculously, his companions lay conscious among the rubble, spitting out splinters and trying to free themselves from the tangle of wood and ropes that spread from bow to stern.
A second round of cannon fire broke the tense air. But this time the shots had come from the warship next to the Dreadnaught.
‘Shiver me shipwrecks!’ Horace exclaimed, scrambling to his feet to see the Viking longship literally blasted in two, flames leaping everywhere. ‘If there’s a hell then we’re in it, devils included.’
‘Athena!’ Pete cried, hobbling towards the stairwell. ‘Oh my darling mai
den. Are you alive?’
There was a muffled response from below.
‘Check the cargo hold for damage, Fred,’ the Captain instructed, brushing splinters from his jacket and turning to follow Pete down the stairs. ‘I’ll inspect the cabins.’
‘Aye, Captain,’ Fred said, lumbering after him, with Smudge flying over his shoulder.
The three young rats were left on the deck, scissor swords drawn, watching helplessly as warship after warship opened fire on the remaining pirate vessels. Cannons exploded all around them. Sails were torn from their masts. Desperate animals leapt into the darkening sea, hoping the crashing waves would offer them some protection from the relentless barrage of cannon fire.
And in the midst of the chaos and confusion, Whisker spotted the instigator of the pirate’s demise, General Thunderclaw. He stood behind the wheel of the Dreadnaught, barking orders to his soldier crabs, the lightning-bolt tattoos on his enormous claws marking him out as the most feared officer on the seas – a brutal, pitiless commander.
Whisker knew that once the Dreadnaught’s cannons had fully reloaded, Thunderclaw would give the signal to send the Apple Pie and her crew to a watery grave.
There was a ringing clang as Ruby dropped one of her swords on the deck. Whisker snapped his head to look at her, wondering if she had been hurt. But she simply took his left paw in hers and said with calm resignation, ‘I’m glad we pulled you from the ocean, Whisker.’
Whisker met her eyes, her sparkling green eyes and, for only the second time in his life, he was looking at her without her eye patch.
Blind in one eye, her patch was her mask, her protector. It now lay in the rubble at her feet. Ruby made no effort to retrieve it.
‘I figure there’s nothing to hide anymore,’ she said, as if reading his thoughts.
‘There never was,’ Whisker said, gripping her paw tightly.
They both watched in silence as the Dreadnaught’s loaded cannons were dragged into position.
Whisker had a million more things he wanted to say to her, but he knew his words would probably come out all wrong anyway.
The Golden Anchor Page 24
