Whisker jumped in surprise and almost tumbled overboard. Beneath him, the heads of the Captain and Fred were sticking through a gaping hole in the wall of the Captain’s cabin, only inches above the waterline.
‘Alright,’ Whisker called down to them. ‘Gather your weapons and haul in that boat. We’ll meet you by the starboard side rope ladder. Oh, and you’d better send Smudge over to the Princess Pie to relay our plans.’
‘Aye to that,’ the Captain replied.
Whisker pulled away from the edge, and was about to head down the stairs when he noticed Anna, standing beside Ruby, taking in the unfolding drama without saying a word.
‘Stay with Balthazar,’ he instructed calmly. ‘You should be safe here with Pete and Athena until the Princess Pie arrives. But at the first sign of trouble take to the air. Do you understand?’
Anna nodded. Then as Whisker went to hug her goodbye she pressed something into his paw.
‘What’s this?’ he asked.
He looked down to see a small pendant hanging at the end of a black cord. It was his golden anchor – the symbol of hope. For a moment, he wasn’t quite sure what she wanted him to do with it.
Anna gave him a look that said, take it, it’s yours, and Whisker immediately understood. The pendant had been with him at the beginning of his quest. It was fitting he should wear it at the end.
‘Thank you,’ he said, fastening the anchor around his neck. ‘We could all use a little hope right now.’
‘I’m more partial to a quiver of arrows and a razor-sharp scissor sword,’ Ruby said, as she dashed down the helm stairs. She scooped up her crimson eyepatch from a broken deck board and retrieved her second scissor sword, muttering, ‘Now where did I leave that longbow?’
Fully armed with scissor swords, a longbow and a small crate of ‘essential’ supplies Horace stowed under a seat, the Pie Rats scrambled into the Golden Anchor.
Using large, powerful strokes, Fred rowed the small vessel clear of the Apple Pie and Whisker and Horace raised the white triangular sail. It instantly filled with air in the gusty wind, jerking the boat forward.
The Captain stood at the stern of the Golden Anchor with one paw on the tiller and a spyglass to his eye, his vision fixed on the Black Shadow. She was barely visible in the twilight, and only the tips of her tall masts distinguished her from the surrounding islands. Ruby crouched next to her uncle, examining the feathered ends of her arrows for any damaged fletchings.
The Golden Anchor moved swiftly though the turbulent water of the channel, hurtling down the side of one wave before coasting up the next. The sheer size of the waves meant she was barely visible to the gunships and, by the time the closest vessel had spotted her and opened fire, she was already out of range and slipping behind the first island.
The Crumbling Rock Islands, as their name suggested, had a history of rock falls and collapsing cliff faces. The constant stream of small rocks plummeting into the ocean told Whisker the afternoon storm had done nothing to lessen the likelihood of such an event.
As Whisker stared up at the towering cliffs, glowing orange in the dusk light, he felt something cold and wet rushing past his ankles. He looked down to see the bottom of the boat quickly filling with water.
‘Err, Captain,’ he said, raising his paw. ‘I think the Golden Anchor has sprung a leak.’
‘I’m not surprised after everything she’s been through,’ the Captain said absently, without lowering his spyglass. ‘Perhaps you should do something before we sink like a stone.’
Whisker dropped to his knees and, using nothing but his cupped paws, began bailing seawater from the flooded vessel. His injured shoulder throbbed painfully as he worked and he struggled to stop his paws from shaking. Most of the water dribbled out through his fingers before it had even reached the side of the boat, leaving him wondering if he was making any progress at all.
‘Where’s an empty glue pot when I need one?’ he muttered under his breath.
Fortunately, Fred stepped in to assist the weary apprentice by bailing bucket-sized scoops of water with his gigantic paws. Immediately, the water level began to drop.
Heads down, the two rats continued bailing as the Golden Anchor pursued the Black Shadow further into the islands, entering a narrow passage between two towering cliff faces.
The water was slightly calmer in the tight confines of the passage, but the wind still howled through the gap like a ghost.
Snap out of it, Whisker told himself, beginning to imagine things. It’s just the wind and the darkness.
When only a small puddle of water remained in the bottom of the boat, and Fred had found the hole and firmly plugged it with his chef’s hat, Whisker finally dared to look up at his surrounds. He was confronted by a thin strip of stars high above him, and blackness on four sides. The lingering twilight had finally been consumed by the darkness of night and the Black Shadow was nowhere in sight.
‘We’ve lost her,’ he gasped in disbelief.
‘Look ahead,’ the Captain said in a low voice, ‘a little to your right.’
Whisker swivelled his head and peered into the darkness. He could hear the relentless murmur of the waves lapping at the foot of the cliffs, but he could also see something – a tiny point of orange light. It wasn’t hovering in the sky like the stars. It was lower, just above the surface of the water.
As Whisker continued to stare, he saw the light growing brighter. And then it was joined by a second orange light, followed by another, and another.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ Whisker asked.
‘Aye,’ the Captain whispered. ‘It’s too dark for a ship of the Black Shadow’s size to steer, unaided, through these islands, so her crew is lighting navigation lanterns to illuminate the way.’
As his eyes adjusted to the light, Whisker noticed just how close the Golden Anchor was to the Black Shadow. The windows of the captain’s cabin, set into the ship’s stern, stared down at him like eyes, barely a stone’s throw away.
‘Do you think they’ve spotted us?’ he asked in a whisper.
‘It’s hard to tell,’ the Captain replied frankly. ‘The gunship wouldn’t have helped our cause, but the fox may have dismissed the cannon fire as part of the battle. All the same, I suggest we proceed in silence.’
There were nods from all present in the small boat. Ruby looked across at Horace, still operating the sail and gave him a doubtful look. Horace pulled a sour face and mouthed, ‘What? I can be silent.’
The lights continued to increase in intensity until two lines of lanterns became visible along the ship’s port and starboard bulwarks, radiating an eerie orange glow over the surface of the water and halfway up the cliffs.
Backlit by the lanterns, Whisker saw that the ship’s sails were partly furled, allowing the larger vessel to move at a slower, safer pace through the treacherous waters. The Golden Anchor had made up valuable ground through the islands, but Whisker was well aware that their advantage would be short lived. Once the Black Shadow entered open waters, she would fully unfurl her sails, leaving the smaller boat floundering uselessly in her wake.
A short distance ahead, the two cliffs ended abruptly. Beyond the narrow passage, a large island rose out of the water. In the lantern light, Whisker saw that the north-eastern tip of the island had collapsed, leaving a crude slope where the cliff had once stood and a pile of rocks jutting out into the water to form a small headland.
There were two conceivable ways to sail around the island – south and west.
‘If my memory of Anso’s map serves me correctly,’ the Captain whispered, ‘the southern passage leads directly to the Bay of Freeforia, while the western passage reconnects with the Central Channel.’
‘So which passage will the Black Shadow take?’ Horace asked, glancing up from the sail.
The answer quickly revealed itself when the Black Shadow began her wide turn into the southern passage.
‘Oh that’s just wonderful,’ Horace muttered. ‘Any chance w
e had to mount an attack just blew away in the wind.’
‘Then we need to act now,’ Ruby said, gesturing to the turning vessel. ‘If we maintain a direct line into that passage, we can intercept the Shadow before she clears the headland.’
‘Hmm,’ the Captain considered, staring through the spyglass. ‘We’d definitely get within range. But it will be near impossible to scale that hull without a rope.’
‘You’re in luck, sir,’ Horace squeaked. ‘There’s a coil of rope in the supply crate under your bench. It’s wedged between the medicine bottles and the hot chilli sauce shooters – just above the knives and forks.’
‘Excellent work, Horace,’ the Captain said, leaning over and sliding his paw into the crate.
Ruby let out a condescending snort. ‘Sauce bottles, knives and forks. Anyone would think we were going on a picnic.’
Horace responded by blowing a raspberry at her.
The Captain removed the coil of rope and handed it to Fred, who wasted no time in tying a loop in one end.
‘We’ll climb aboard as soon as we’re in range,’ the Captain whispered. ‘Once we reach the deck there should be a door or a hatch that leads directly to the slave quarters. If we can free the prisoners before the alarm is raised, we may have their assistance in seizing the ship.’
‘And if the alarm is raised?’ Whisker asked, well aware of how Pie Rat stealth missions usually ended up.
‘Then we’ll simply have to revert to plan B and fight for our lives,’ the Captain replied.
‘Err, I hate to rain on your alphabet parade,’ Fred interrupted, lowering the rope, ‘but it appears we’re going to need a plan D – or whatever letter comes after B.’
All eyes followed the direction of Fred’s enormous eye. Several grey wolves stood along the port side bulwark of the black ship, their heads extended over the railing. Teeth bared, yellow eyes glaring, they growled menacingly at the small boat of rats.
‘Capital C for catastrophe!’ Horace exclaimed. ‘They’ve seen us.’
The largest wolf raised his head to the heavens and let out an almighty AWOOO!
‘And I’m pretty sure the alarm’s just been raised,’ Whisker gulped.
There was a sudden flurry of activity on the deck as half-a-dozen wolves rushed over to the masts and began loosening knots and tugging on sail ropes.
The Pie Rats watched in horror as, one by one, the sails of the Black Shadow began unfurling. The wind was quick to take hold of the loose sheets of fabric and the vessel instantly pulled away from the Golden Anchor, gathering speed as more of her sails expanded with air.
‘We’ll never catch her now!’ Horace moaned, staring helplessly at the Black Shadow as she continued her wide arc around the headland.
‘It’s not over yet,’ Whisker declared, gripping his anchor pendant tightly. ‘There’s still a chance we can stop that ship.’
‘How?’ Horace asked, waving his hook in confusion. ‘We’re here and the fox is there, and there’s a widening stretch of water between us …’
Whisker turned to Ruby, a determined look in his eye.
‘Let me guess?’ she said, drawing an arrow from her quiver. ‘You require my superior archery skills to save the day – yet again.’
‘Something like that,’ Whisker said bashfully.
Ruby grinned wickedly. ‘Consider it done.’
Before anyone could question her plan of attack, Ruby had nocked the arrow to her bow, drawn back the string, and was taking aim at the shadowy figure on the ship’s helm.
‘A little to the left,’ she muttered to herself, adjusting her aim and targeting the ship’s wheel. ‘We might still need him alive for questioning … yes, that’s the spot.’
She inhaled deeply, waited for the Golden Anchor to crest a small wave, and then fired.
Chasing a Shadow
Ruby’s arrow streaked away into the darkness at a blinding speed. A moment later it ricocheted off a spoke on the ship’s wheel and the fox leapt back with a cry of alarm.
Ruby didn’t wait for him to recover. She sent a second arrow hurtling towards the centre of the wheel and immediately followed it with a third.
Totally exposed and under attack, the fox dived for cover behind the railing as Ruby’s arrows came in thick and fast.
THWISH!
THWISH!
THWISH!
The vast majority of her shots never hit their target and they disappeared harmlessly into the night. But the constant stream of arrows trapped the fox behind the railing, leaving the wheel unattended and the rudder locked in a wide curve.
With the wind in her sails, the Black Shadow surged around the headland, then careered wildly towards the island. She came in fast, swinging back towards the perilous rocks before the wind assaulted her from side-on and she keeled to her port side.
A second after the final arrow had left Ruby’s bow, there was a sickening SCREECH of timber as the Black Shadow ran aground. The ghostly ship maintained her momentum for several metres, scraping over the rocks, until her bowsprit collided with the cliff face and she came to a dead stop. There she lay, wedged between the sea and the cliff, with her masts angled diagonally and the contents of her deck spilling overboard.
There was a chorus of angry howls from the wolves, struggling to maintain their balance on the sloping deck.
‘Hurry, now’s our chance,’ the Captain hissed.
While chaos reigned on the Black Shadow, Fred clambered to the front of the Golden Anchor and began swinging the rope above his head like a lasso.
The Captain steered the boat closer, approaching from the far side of the headland where the water was deepest. When the Black Shadow was within range, Fred released his grip on the rope. It hurtled through the air, landing on the port side bulwark. Fred gave his end of the rope a firm tug and the lasso tightened around a metal cleat.
‘Now lower the sail,’ the Captain ordered, ‘and be ready to leap aboard on my command.’
While Horace took care of the sail, Fred heaved on the rope, drawing the small boat alongside the menacing black ship.
Whisker simply stared up at the barred windows, imagining what lay within.
Are my parents really aboard? he asked himself. Or does only black emptiness await me?
It was surreal to think how far he had travelled; how much he had accomplished to arrive at this point. The images of maps, keys, books and trophies flashed before his eyes. Each item was a prize, a token from his quest – an object he had battled desperately to attain. They had all served their purpose. They had all given him a chance. But in the end, they all meant nothing to him without the ending he so desperately desired.
That ending, he hoped, was right in front of him.
‘So who’s first?’ Fred asked, gesturing to the taut line running up the side of the ship.
‘I’ll go,’ Whisker said, placing one paw on the rope.
‘And I’ll be right behind him,’ Ruby added quickly.
‘You’d better hurry,’ the Captain urged. ‘It won’t take long for those wolves to recover.’
‘Aye, aye, Captain,’ the apprentice whispered as he began scrambling up the rope.
He passed the dark windows, resisting the urge to stop and listen, and then continued silently until the black rail of the bulwark was within reach. He was about to haul himself aboard when the stars above him suddenly disappeared and he glimpsed a huge, shaggy body throwing itself over the side of the ship.
With a thumping CRACK, it landed in the bottom of the boat, smashing the middle row of seats in two.
Whisker looked down to see a huge grey wolf rising to his feet, his yellow eyes fixed on the rats in the bow of the boat.
He opened his mouth to reveal a set of monstrous canine teeth, then slashed his claws across the mast, leaving a row of deep gouges in the wood.
The rats shrank back in terror.
‘The archer,’ the wolf growled, spotting the empty quiver and longbow lying in the bottom of the boat. ‘
Where is he?’
Ruby’s paws instinctually moved towards the hilts of her scissor swords.
‘Technically speaking, the archer is a she not a he,’ corrected a small rat from behind the grey beast.
The wolf spun around with an angry snarl to see Horace cowering under the rear bench.
‘And where might she be?’ he barked.
‘Right here,’ Horace said, raising his arm.
The wolf had just enough time to glimpse the rubber sauce bottle in Horace’s paw, before he was assaulted by a burst of stinging, red liquid. It smothered his eyes and filled his open mouth and, for a moment, he just stood there, dripping. And then, with a spluttering howl that sent chunks of hot chillies spewing forth like a volcanic eruption, he leapt forward, barging blindly past Horace and tumbling, headfirst, over the side of the boat.
There was a brief silence, before the wolf splashed to the surface, pawing at his eyes and whining like a newborn cub.
Horace watched him anxiously, the bottle gripped tightly in his paw. Making no attempt to reboard the boat, the wolf let out a spluttered howl and paddled away into the darkness.
‘And don’t come back!’ Horace called after him.
The Captain shot a wary glance at Whisker, still suspended from the top of the rope and said, ‘You’d best see if there are any more of those beasts waiting to ambush us.’
With a nod, Whisker raised his nose over the bulwark and sniffed the air. No heavy wolf scents met his nostrils. Cautiously, he pulled himself higher until his head protruded over the bulwark. The main deck angled upwards in front of him, empty and silent. A dozen large oil lanterns hung crookedly from poles along the port and starboard bulwarks, sending long, flickering shadows over the forecastle, the elevated deck at the front of the ship. Above him, the black sails continued to flap wildly in the wind.
Whisker hauled himself aboard, wanting to see more of the ghostly vessel before he gave the Captain the all-clear. Glancing across to the stern of the ship, he saw two raised decks connected by short flights of stairs. A closed door was set into the wall on each level, leading to cabins and sleeping quarters. Whisker’s eyes moved from a large battle axe, fastened to the wall beside the second flight of stairs, to the poop deck. The only thing visible on the uppermost deck was an abandoned steering wheel and its newly acquired collection of arrows.
The Golden Anchor Page 26
