The Trophy of Champions

by Cameron Stelzer

  ‘Shiver me sick buckets,’ he groaned, trying to block out the sun with the shaft of his hook. ‘Who’s shaking the tent?’

  ‘A large wave,’ Pete droned.

  ‘What?’ Horace cried, rolling out of his sleeping bag. ‘Has the athletes’ village been hit by a tsunami?’

  ‘No, you bamboozled baboon!’ Pete snapped. ‘We’re on a ship.’

  ‘Oh,’ Horace said, tapping the deck with his hook. ‘That would explain the hard ground.’ He grabbed the side of the bulwark and slowly pulled himself to his feet.

  ‘Nice island,’ he said, staring at the approaching landmass. ‘Do you think there’ll be hula girls …?’

  Horace had to wait until the ship had anchored and the pirates had all been ferried over to the island before he finally got his answer.

  ‘Ze Mystery Challenge is rather simple,’ Gustave said to the assembled teams. ‘I am about to sail away, leaving you all marooned on zis deserted island.’ There were several gasps and groans – most noticeably from Horace. Gustave stepped into his rowboat and pointed to a small spec of land on the horizon. ‘Ze first team zat can reach me on ze neighbouring rocky island vill vin ze event. How you get zere is entirely up to you.’

  And without further explanation, he picked up the oars and began rowing back to the Velvet Wave.

  Wasting no time, the Pie Rats gathered in a small huddle on the beach to discuss tactics.

  ‘Our first task is to build a boat to withstand the turbulent crossing,’ the Captain said, taking charge. ‘We can be on the rocky island by nightfall if we focus solely on locating the right materials for our escape vessel.’

  ‘That’s easier said than done,’ Whisker said, glancing across at the small forest. ‘The wooden boat I built with my father took months to complete, not hours.’

  ‘What about a raft?’ Horace ventured. ‘We made a log raft on the Island of Kings and it only took a few minutes to build –’

  ‘– and even less time to fall apart,’ Pete muttered.

  ‘Oh, stop it!’ Horace scolded. ‘The raft was perfectly fine until we ran into a school of fresh water piranhas and then tumbled down a waterfall.’ He swept his hook in an arc over the sea. ‘I can assure you there is zero chance of that happening here.’

  ‘True,’ Pete considered. ‘But there are hungry sharks, killer whales and six metre waves to contend with.’

  ‘Rotten pies to rickety rafts,’ Horace said, quickly losing his enthusiasm.

  ‘Have you considered page six hundred and seventy-two?’ Ruby said abruptly from the outskirts of the group.

  Six heads turned to her in surprise.

  ‘What?’ she snapped, still fuming over her card game defeat. ‘I’ve done my homework. There’s an entire section on easy-to-make fishing vessels in there. I presume one of you packed our reading material.’

  ‘Aye,’ Pete said in a hushed voice. ‘Fred’s your rat.’

  ‘Might I suggest we find a more private location to review our options,’ the Captain said, gesturing to a clump of palm trees at the end of the beach. ‘Smudge, you’re on spy duty. Let me know what the other teams are plotting – and stay out of tongue’s reach of those toads.’

  Smudge gave the Captain a four-armed salute and buzzed off down the beach. The Pie Rats set off in the opposite direction and were soon surrounded by coconut palms, pandanus trees and dense clumps of bamboo. Fred removed the book from his backpack and lay it on a sunny patch of sand.

  ‘Page six hundred and seventy two, was it?’ the Captain murmured, opening the book two-thirds of the way through.

  In the light of the morning sun, the white pages slowly transformed into a detailed ocean map with the title, The Crumbling Rock Islands. The number at the bottom of the page read 660.

  ‘Close,’ the Captain chuckled, flicking forward twelve pages.

  The crew were soon staring at a double page of canoes, catamarans and miniature sail boats.

  ‘So, which one do we build?’ Horace asked, overwhelmed by the variety of vessels on offer.

  Ruby pointed to a sketch of a long canoe with a float attached to one side and a sail raised above it. Its title read Outrigger.

  ‘That’s our boat,’ she said confidently. ‘It’s quick to assemble, easy to paddle, and the float will help stabilise the hull in rough waters.’

  ‘And I have the perfect sail,’ Horace added, holding up the corner of his sleeping bag.

  ‘It’s a little on the small side,’ Pete said, peering down his nose at the striped fabric. ‘But I’m sure we can attach a few T-shirts to increase the surface area.’

  Fred wasted no time in removing his huge red shirt and handed it to Pete. Horace grinned at Whisker, then stripped off his own shirt. Awkwardly, Whisker followed suit.

  ‘Now this is desert island living!’ Horace exclaimed, dragging Whisker into the forest. ‘Come on. You can help me cut down some bamboo. We’ll need a hollow stalk for the floatation device, a straight section for the mast and a couple of shorter lengths for the supports. How sharp is your sword …?’

  While Horace and Whisker took care of the bamboo, Ruby, Fred and the Captain went in search of a hollow log for the canoe. Pete stayed near the beach, plaiting stringy pandanus leaves together to form short lengths of rope.

  The only suitable log the Pie Rats discovered was located deep in the forest and it took the combined efforts of all six rats to roll it to the beach. On their way back they spotted several cane toads carrying the flimsy base of a raft made from sticks and thin stalks of bamboo.

  ‘I doubt that will survive the crossing,’ Pete whispered when the toads were out of earshot. ‘The waves will smash it to pieces before they’re even past the breakers.’

  ‘I suggest we focus on our own vessel,’ the Captain said, straining to get the log through the sand. ‘Do we have all the materials we need?’

  ‘Aye, aye, Captain,’ Horace replied, struggling to see over the log. ‘The bamboo is waiting on the shore.’

  ‘What about the paddles?’ Ruby asked. ‘Did anyone bother to think about them?’

  ‘I did,’ Whisker replied. ‘I collected a pile of coconuts after we cut down the bamboo.’

  ‘Coconuts?’ Ruby huffed, giving the heavy log a firm kick with her foot. ‘I said paddles, not provisions!’

  Whisker pretended he hadn’t heard her and continued pushing.

  ‘Well, apprentice?’ she snapped. ‘Are you going to explain yourself or not?’

  ‘Err, sure, Ruby,’ he said timidly. ‘I was thinking we could cut the coconut shells in half and attached them to the ends of our scissor swords to form cupped paddles. We could drink the coconut milk to stay hydrated and save the rest of the coconut for the crossing.’

  ‘Pure genius,’ Horace exclaimed. ‘You’ve thought of everything.’

  Ruby softened slightly.

  ‘I could do with a glass of coconut milk,’ she said, almost managing a smile. And for a moment, all the hostility, all the angst, and all the awkwardness was gone and Ruby and Whisker were simply two friends on a beach, working side by side to build a boat.

  Whisker wished it would stay that way forever.

  Do we really have to leave? he thought to himself as he handed Ruby a shell full of coconut milk. Life here would be so simple – and so safe. We could build a shelter instead of a boat. We could eat bananas and swim and forget everything …

  But Whisker knew he could never forget – not the cyclone and certainly not his family. Not even the most beautiful paradise would ever feel like home without all the people he cared about by his side. ‘Home’ meant familiar faces, not perfect places.

  As he skewered a coconut shell on the end of a scissor sword, he wished they were with him now – his family, his friends, his paradise.

  Strange Vessels

  With six sets of paws working harmoniously together, the outrigger progressed at a surprisingly fast pace. As the morning wore on, Smudge returned from his surveillance operation with seve
ral interesting developments to report.

  The Sea Dogs had left the island some time ago with nothing but a large piece of driftwood, relying solely on paddle power to get them to the neighbouring island. The Cane Toads were currently moving through the breakers, struggling to keep their flimsy raft from falling apart. On the far side of the forest, the marmosets were building an elaborate vessel using bamboo, banana leaves and vines.

  The Cat Fish, on the other hand, didn’t appear to be making a boat at all, but were weaving a large net from whatever materials they could get their paws on. Smudge had no idea what they were playing at, but informed the crew that Prowler was nowhere in sight.

  ‘That’s never a good sign,’ Horace muttered, tying his sleeping bag to the mast. ‘What about the penguins? I doubt they found an iceberg to sail away on.’

  Smudge raised two arms in the air as if to say, Don’t ask me. I couldn’t keep an eye on everyone.

  ‘It’s likely they’re flaked out in a small cave, suffering from heat exhaustion,’ the Captain said, unconcerned. ‘For now, the dogs are our main threat. If we get a move on, we can still catch them before they reach the island. Their pace will undoubtedly slow when their legs grow tired.’

  ‘We’re almost ready to launch, Captain,’ Ruby cried. ‘One more shirt and we’re set.’ She stuck her paw out to Pete. ‘If you please?’

  ‘Bother!’ Pete muttered, stripping off his top. ‘I was hoping you had ample clothing with Fred’s XXXL-sized jersey.’ He reluctantly passed Ruby his slim-fitting shirt and squinted up at the scorching sun. ‘If I get a hint of sunburn, there’ll be trouble, do you understand?’

  ‘Relax,’ Horace laughed. ‘A tan will do you the world of good.’

  ‘I’m an albino,’ Pete exclaimed. ‘I don’t tan. I roast!’

  Ruby rolled her eye and began tearing off the bottom half of her shirt. When she was finished, she threw the strip of fabric to Pete. ‘Here, use this to cover your shoulders. It will protect you from the worst of the sun.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Pete sniffled.

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ Ruby said, glancing down at her tattered half-shirt. ‘I just hope midriffs are back in fashion on the mainland …’

  It was a less-than-stylish crew that finally made its way out to sea in a makeshift outrigger. The six rats sat in a tight line in the hollow section of the log and Smudge clung to the top of the bamboo mast. The sail remained tightly rolled up as the Pie Rats paddled through the rough breakers, heading north. Ruby took the front position and set the pace, while Pete sat at the stern of the boat, steering the vessel.

  Large waves hammered the small boat as it made its way towards the open sea. If it wasn’t for the floatation device, the vessel would have surely capsized. Horace had the job of bailing water using a bamboo hook-attachment and worked overtime during the first part of the journey.

  When the Pie Rats were finally past the line of breakers, they raised the sail and harnessed the power of the south-east wind.

  It wasn’t long before Smudge spotted the Cane Toads’ disintegrating raft a short distance away. The toads were taking turns kicking with their back legs, paddling with pieces of bark and re-fastening sticks that had come adrift. Their pace was slow and cumbersome.

  As the toad’s raft disappeared behind the outrigger, the distant shape of the rocky island grew clearer.

  ‘How’s the boat holding up?’ the Captain asked, as increasingly larger waves jolted the vessel from side to side.

  ‘The float’s still secure,’ Pete replied, examining each knot thoroughly, ‘though the mast is beginning to loosen.’

  ‘Can you refasten it?’ Ruby shouted over the roar of the wind.

  ‘Not without collapsing the entire sail,’ Pete called back, ‘but I might be able to strengthen it.’ He pulled the scrap of fabric off his shoulders and began wrapping it around the base of the mast. ‘Phooey to sun protection. My nose is sunburnt anyway.’ He tied the ends of the fabric together and gave the mast a quick shake. ‘That should hold it – for now.’

  ‘Look!’ Horace cried. ‘Smudge has spotted something.’

  All eyes stared up at the wind-swept mast. Smudge gripped the corner of the sleeping bag with five arms and used his one free arm to point directly behind the boat.

  Whisker spun around and gasped. Ploughing through the ocean and rapidly approaching was a mighty two-hulled catamaran. Constructed from hundreds of pieces of lightweight bamboo, it sat high on the water, gliding effortlessly through the waves. Two enormous banana-leaf sails rose from its hulls. What startled Whisker most was not the vessel’s brilliant construction, but its brazen crew of six snarling Cat Fish.

  ‘Ratbeard save us!’ the Captain exclaimed. ‘The conniving cats have hijacked the marmosets’ boat.’

  ‘That explains the net,’ Pete groaned. ‘The poor monkeys must be tied up in the jungle.’

  ‘Poor us more like it,’ Horace cried. ‘The cats will overtake us in no time.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Ruby shouted. ‘If the wind drops off closer to the shore, we can still paddle our way to victory.’

  ‘What about the dogs?’ Pete hollered. ‘Maybe they’ve already landed.’

  Without warning, Fred stood up in his seat, almost capsizing the boat. He gave the ocean a quick scan with his powerful eye and promptly sat down again.

  ‘Sea Dogs, dead ahead,’ he grunted. ‘Halfway to the island.’

  ‘Marvellous!’ Ruby cheered, clearly excited by the challenge. ‘We have ourselves a race. All bottoms on seats. And row on my count.’

  With all six crew members paddling for their lives, the outrigger moved swiftly through the rough water. For every metre the Pie Rats gained on the Sea Dogs, the Cat Fish crept a metre closer to them. The gap between the three vessels was soon so close that Whisker could hear the other captains shouting orders to their crews.

  ‘… Keep paddling, you lazy mutts,’ Bartholomew Brawl barked. ‘We’re still in the lead.’

  ‘… Starboard side, on the double,’ Sabre commanded. ‘Prepare to tack.’

  The catamaran suddenly changed course and Whisker felt a blast of warm air from the beach. The sail twisted backwards and, with a shuddering CRACK, the mast snapped in two. Before the Pie Rats could react, the entire sail had lifted into the air and was skimming over their heads like a magic carpet.

  ‘Sail overboard!’ Horace wailed as the sail splashed ungraciously into the waves. ‘My precious sleeping bag is lost forever …’

  ‘Pull yourself together,’ Ruby snapped. ‘And don’t stop paddling, any of you.’

  ‘But what about our sail?’ Horace moaned. ‘We can’t out-row a catamaran.’

  ‘We won’t have to,’ Whisker said, staring at two purple flags on the beach, fluttering in his direction. ‘The wind’s blowing from the shore. The Cat Fish will have to sail across the beach to get anywhere. It’s twice as far to travel. We can still beat the dogs if we paddle straight ahead and ride the perfect wave in.’

  ‘You mean we’re going to surf our way to the finish line?’ Horace exclaimed, plunging his oar into the water.

  ‘If it gets you rowing, then yes!’ the Captain cried. ‘It’s about time we showed those soggy pups who really rules the waves.’

  With an enthusiastic cheer, the Pie Rats charged full steam ahead. Startled by the commotion, the Sea Dogs looked around to see the outrigger drawing level with them. Refusing to go down without a fight, they let out a chorus of howls and kicked their legs even harder. Further along the coastline, the Cat Fish had changed direction and were sailing back in a tight line towards the breakers.

  ‘The best wave will win it,’ Ruby shouted over her shoulder. ‘See those rocks, Pete?’

  ‘Oh my sunburnt paws,’ Pete groaned, his red nose turning ghostly white. ‘You can’t be serious …’

  ‘Of course I’m serious,’ Ruby snapped. ‘The bigger the rocks, the bigger the waves. Now steer us in.’

  Pete had no choice but to obey, an
d in seconds the Pie Rats were in the very centre of a rocky obstacle course.

  ‘Here comes the next set,’ Ruby hollered. ‘Get ready to paddle.’

  Whisker had a sinking feeling in his stomach as the water beneath him began to fall. The tips of jagged, black rocks rose from the surface. He glanced behind him to see a monstrous wall of water sucking up everything in its path. It grew larger as it thundered towards the Pie Rats.

  ‘Now,’ Ruby shouted, plunging her paddle into the wave. ‘ROW! ROW! ROW!’

  Whisker rowed harder than he had in his entire life. At first it seemed the boat was going nowhere. Then, with the combined strength of the crew, the outrigger began rising upwards, and suddenly it was airborne, riding high on the foaming crest of the wave.

  Horace cheered in triumph, Pete covered his eyes with his paws and the rest of the crew held on for dear life.

  To either side of the outrigger, the Sea Dogs and Cat Fish were struggling to catch their own small waves, but they soon vanished in showers of spray as the Pie Rats hurtled towards the shore.

  ‘How do we get off this barrelling behemoth?’ Pete cried, peering through his trembling fingers.

  ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead,’ Ruby shouted back, ‘but we’ve got about five seconds before we hit the beach.’

  ‘The beach!’ Pete screamed in terror. ‘What happened to all the water?’

  There was a rolling, thumping KERSPLASH as the wave belted the rocky beach, sending the outrigger plummeting down. The Pie Rats leapt free as the front of the log ploughed into a patch of pebbly sand and stopped dead.

  Sopping wet and covered in grazes, Whisker staggered to his feet. He could see Gustave standing between two purple flags, halfway up the beach. A row of cheering spectators lined the rocks behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, Whisker caught sight of the Sea Dogs scrambling ashore. Hot on their heels, the Cat Fish bounded off the catamaran.

  ‘Hurry!’ Whisker yelled to his teammates. ‘It’s raining cats and dogs.’

  Ruby and the Captain were beside him in an instant and racing up the beach. Fred took one look at Horace and Pete, lying in a tangled heap in the sand, and scooped both of them up in his huge arms. With his enormous eye fixed firmly on the finish line, he lumbered after the others.