Further Adventures of Pelle No-Tail

by Gösta Knutsson

  ‘What do you say about this desert island, my friend?’ said Nisse. ‘I’m starving, and I’m dying to know if there are any coconut palms to be found here.’

  ‘I suppose we’ll have to search the island,’ said Olle. ‘If only there were a freshwater spring, for the salt water in the sea isn’t suitable for drinking.’ (These were the precise words used by the castaway, John, in the book.)

  The island was not that small, and there was quite a dense forest – admittedly only fir trees and pines, but you could always pretend, of course, that they were coconut palms and orange trees.

  ‘Do you see that monkey?’ Nisse suddenly whispered to Olle, grabbing him by the arm.

  ‘It’s probably one of those baboons,’ said Olle grimly.

  Frightened, Pelle looked up and saw a squirrel sitting perfectly peacefully high up in a fir tree.

  ‘Those boys have gone mad today,’ thought Pelle. ‘Fancy calling that poor squirrel a baboon!’ But in a loud voice, Pelle called up to the squirrel: ‘Hej, good day to you, Kurre! What’s it like living here on this little island?’

  ‘Not so great!’ answered the squirrel. ‘No nuts. Only pine nuts. I’m thinking I might move back to the mainland when winter comes, so I can cross over the ice. Anyway, who are you? You’re the first cat I’ve ever seen on this island.’

  ‘I’m Pelle, the ship’s cat,’ said Pelle, sounding quite important. ‘I’m out on the boat with these boys here. We thought we might do a bit of exploring around some of the little islands here on the lake.’

  ‘Will you be staying long?’ asked the squirrel.

  ‘No, I think we’ll be on our way shortly,’ said Pelle. ‘It doesn’t look like there’s much in the way of rats around here.’

  ‘Ja, there’s not really much to brag about,’ said the squirrel. ‘It’s a bit the same with that tail of yours, it seems, too.’

  ‘Goodbye to you!’ said Pelle and went on his way.

  7

  Ali, the dreadful dog

  Pelle and the boys roamed around the island for quite some time. They were very excited to find an old hut made of branches deep in the woods.

  ‘Perhaps the island isn’t deserted after all,’ whispered Olle. ‘Maybe there are some native islanders living here who are armed to the teeth!’

  They peered cautiously into the hut. But it was empty.

  ‘What do you say to us consuming our ship’s provisions, comrade?’ said Nisse.

  Olle thought this was a good idea. Like Nisse, he had had time to grow seriously hungry, and now the rye bread and ham and crackers tasted delicious.

  Pelle was hungry too. He was given a little ham. He didn’t think much of it, but at least it was better than nothing. And for dessert, he lapped up some water from the leaves of a few dew-cup plants – in the absence of any milk. And when he then cleaned himself after his meal, he felt quite contented.

  But soon enough, the boys thought it was time to think about the journey home, and so they wandered back to the place where they had left their boat, with Pelle hot on their heels.

  ‘Enemy ship ahoy!’ shouted Nisse.

  And sure enough, a motorboat was heading straight towards the island. There was a fellow in the boat and – much to Pelle’s great horror – standing there in the bow was a dog! Pelle arched his back and hissed as loudly as he could, but it didn’t seem to bother the dog in the slightest. He leapt ashore and, barking furiously, chased Pelle inland, away from the shore.

  From high up in his spruce tree, the squirrel shouted:

  Go Pelle, go!

  Let’s have some fun!

  Go Pelle, go,

  You’ll get the job done!

  The chase criss-crossed the woods before Pelle decided to climb up a tree. Finally he scrambled up a really tall pine tree and was able to catch his breath high up in the very crown of the pine. The dog barked madly and tried to climb up after him but of course, that didn’t work at all.

  ‘You just carry on bawling,’ shouted Pelle down to him. ‘You’ll never make it up here!’

  The fellow in the boat was not particularly friendly either. It was his island, he said, and it wasn’t there for rascals like the boys to come and land on it.

  ‘So just get out of here this instant,’ he said threateningly.

  ‘Of course. See, we didn’t know it was your island, sir,’ said the boys. ‘But of course, we’ll be off at once.’

  ‘Alright,’ grumbled the fellow. ‘It would probably be best if I towed you behind the motorboat as it’s pretty rough out on Blåviks Bay.’

  ‘Oh, we have to bring our cat back with us,’ said Olle. Just then, the big dog returned from his wild cat hunt. He was panting, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

  ‘I hope he hasn’t gobbled Pelle up,’ said Olle anxiously. ‘It looks like that’s exactly what he’s done!’

  ‘Nonsense!’ said the man with the boat. ‘The wretched cat is almost certainly sitting up in a tree as we speak, and he won’t come down until Ali has left. You’ll have to head off and come back for the cat tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, but …’ said Olle.

  ‘The weather is coming in,’ said Ali’s master. ‘We can’t wait around any longer. We’ll have to get going at once if we’re going to make it home before the rain sets in. Into the boat with you both! The cat’s just fine. We’ll fetch him tomorrow.’

  8

  Hark, mother owl is hooting!

  And so it was that Pelle No-Tail was left alone on the desert island.

  When Pelle finally dared, little by little, to come down from his pine tree, he picked his way first to the water where he thought he might find the boys and the boat. But they weren’t there. Pelle felt very downcast and set off around the whole island, searching for them. There were no boys anywhere to be found.

  ‘Oh well, I suppose they’ll be back soon enough,’ thought Pelle. ‘I’ll just have to settle down to wait for a while.’ And since he had just managed to catch a beetle, his mood improved and he purred a little to himself. Then he went off wandering, sniffing here and there, scratching about a little in the dry leaves, and jumping after the odd mosquito.

  But night fell, and the boys didn’t return. It grew darker and darker, and thunder rumbled in the distance as a storm howled around the desert island.

  Pelle sat down on a rock and his tears trickled down. He longed for Övrabo, for Birgitta and Big-Stina.

  What was that? Something big and scary came flapping past. Pelle made himself as small as possible. Then the big scary thing hooted, too … it was an owl.

  There was creaking and crashing, ristling and rustling. Pelle was frightened, and you can hardly blame him.

  At last he fell asleep with his nose between his front paws, while the storm howled and the thunder rumbled.

  *

  To a deserted isle

  On a desolate lake

  Came dear Pelle No-Tail one day.

  ‘What fun!’ were his words,

  ’Midst the blossoms and birds,

  As with all sorts of critters he played.

  On a deserted isle

  On a desolate lake,

  Oh! How it’s scary at night!

  Tree branches groan,

  Creatures creep through the stones

  And Pelle has goosebumps of fright.

  On a deserted isle

  On a desolate lake

  It’s frightfully dark in this place.

  What’s that in the grass?

  It’s rustling right past …

  A lizard disappearing without trace!

  On a deserted isle

  On a desolate lake

  It’s really no fun at night!

  Mother owl hoots,

  Fifteen minutes she toots …

  And the snake is ready to bite!

  *

  But everything turned out well in the end!

  Olle and Nisse were each given a thorough licking with the birch branches from the sauna when they arrived
home that night, which was no less than they deserved.

  And early next morning, Birgitta and her Papa went in the motorboat to the island to fetch their dear little pussycat. Pelle purred and nudged them and nudged them and purred, and then quick as a flash slurped up the cream Birgitta had brought with her.

  You can imagine, though, he didn’t much like the boat’s motor growling away on the way home.

  ‘But the boat’s probably happy, too,’ thought Pelle, ‘and that’s why it’s purring.’

  9

  A birthday party at Åsgränd Alley

  One day, as autumn approached, the nasty cat Måns had a big birthday party in the shed at Åsgränd Alley. Bill was there, Bull was there, and Fritz and Frida and Rickard from Rickomberga were there, and Murre from Skogstibble was also there; he had taken the bus into town (lying on the roof of the bus without the bus driver noticing him). Pelle No-Tail had not been invited, which of course was understandable, but he had sent a telegram using the cats’ own telegram form #5, the fancy form that has a picture of a satisfied cat sitting in a flower cart holding golden reins as he’s pulled along by two rats.

  On the telegram was written the following verse:

  ‘He’s the same as ever,’ growled Måns. ‘Always trying to be smart, that no-tailed number. I really should answer by reply telegram. “Mind your own business!” That’s what I should say. That’s what I’d do, for sure, if only it weren’t so expensive.’

  ‘Ja, it’s expensive to send a telegram,’ said Bill.

  ‘Sending a telegram isn’t cheap,’ said Bull.

  ‘No, I’m not going to send a telegram, but I’ll make him pay for sure,’ said Måns, and bit the head off a herring.

  ‘Delicious herring, this,’ said Rickard from Rickomberga. ‘You’ve really gone all out today, Måns!’

  ‘Ja, indeed, I’ve never seen such delicacies,’ said Frida, and licked her nose a few times. ‘I assure you, it’s a meal fit for the king’s cats!’

  Måns looked very smug, and didn’t contradict her.

  ‘It’s a dream, this pork chop,’ said Frida and closed her eyes, and Måns looked even more self-satisfied. Yes, one thing was for certain, he knew how to put on tip-top birthday parties.

  When everybody was full and had given themselves a thorough clean, they had to find something to do.

  ‘I could always tell a few farmyard stories from Skogstibble,’ said Murre. ‘For example, have you heard what happened when May Rose kicked over the milk flask so all the milk spilt …’

  ‘Oh please, Murre,’ said Rickard. ‘You tell that one every time we get together, so I think you can spare us this time.’

  ‘Jahadå, by all means,’ said Murre from Skogstibble, looking terribly hurt. ‘Joodå, if my stories aren’t good enough for you lot, I’m not about to force them on you. Oh no, you can tell your own stories. Be my guest and go right ahead!’

  ‘No, I know,’ said Fritz. ‘We’ll have a general knowledge quiz!’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what we should do,’ said Frida. ‘Otherwise it won’t be a proper party.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Måns. ‘We’ll divide ourselves up into town and country.’

  ‘That’s unfair,’ said Murre. ‘Does that mean I’ll be on my own against all of you?’

  ‘No, Rickard from Rickomberga is on the country team, too,’ said Måns.

  ‘Me?’ said Rickard. ‘Oh-no-thank-you, I definitely belong on the town team, you might be so good as to remember. I’m afraid Murre from Skogstibble will have to be on his own.’

  ‘Well, perhaps it would be best if we give up on having teams,’ twittered Frida. ‘We’ll each play for ourselves, that will be just as much fun. Now, I’ll ask the first question, and it’s directed, of course, to the birthday boy. Well, Måns, can you tell me how many days there are in October?’

  ‘What was that you said?’ said Måns.

  ‘I asked how many days there are in October,’ said Frida.

  ‘Ja, see, I’m not playing,’ said Måns. ‘See, I thought I’d be the umpire, because somebody has to sacrifice himself to do the job. So, please just go ahead and ask somebody else. Rickard can probably answer.’

  ‘There are thirty days in October,’ said Rickard.

  ‘Well perhaps there are out in the country in Rickomberga,’ said Frida. ‘But in the city, we usually have thirty-one.’

  ‘That’s hardly general knowledge,’ said Rickard. ‘But it’s my turn now to ask an easy question. How many toes does a rat have altogether?’

  ‘Eighteen!’ shouted Måns, quick as a flash.

  ‘Yes, that’s correct,’ said Rickard. ‘But Måns, you just said you weren’t playing. So you can’t answer.’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s true,’ said Måns. ‘Oh well, in any case, the score is now one to me and everybody else has none.’

  ‘I have a very good question,’ said Murre. ‘How many stalls are there in the farmyard back home?’

  ‘Ugh, how could we know that?’ said Fritz.

  ‘There are fourteen,’ said Murre. ‘Mister Umpire, I’d like one point, please.’

  ‘That’s unfair,’ said Fritz. ‘Surely you don’t get a point if you answer your own question!’

  ‘In that case, I’ll have one for October,’ said Frida.

  ‘No,’ said Måns. ‘The score is still one to me and zero for everyone else. Next question!’

  ‘What’s the time on my watch when the cathedral clock strikes seven?’ said Fritz.

  ‘How stupid!’ said Måns.

  ‘It’s seven, too, obviously,’ said Rickard.

  ‘Well, clearly,’ said Bill.

  ‘Clear as daylight,’ said Bull.

  ‘Nehej, no, because my watch stopped at a quarter past four a year ago, and it has been like that ever since,’ said Fritz.

  Frida giggled loudly. But everybody else looked angry.

  ‘That is definitely not general knowledge,’ said Rickard.

  ‘The score is one point to me and zero for everyone else,’ said Måns, looking important.

  ‘Måns is leading,’ said Bill.

  ‘One to zero,’ said Bull.

  ‘But now I have a great idea,’ said Måns.

  ‘What’s that?’ said the others.

  ‘Jo, well, now I know an excellent way to get back at Pelle No-Tail. We’re going to hold a big general knowledge quiz that will be open to the public and we’ll invite him to take part!’

  ‘But what if he’s better at it than we are?’ said Fritz.

  ‘What if he wins?’ said Frida.

  ‘Ja, well, then the quiz wouldn’t be much fun,’ said Rickard from Rickomberga, grooming his coat a little.

  ‘But I shall make sure he doesn’t win,’ said Måns, with a wicked smile. ‘Just trust me!’

  ‘But how are you going to do that?’ asked Murre.

  ‘First and foremost, as chief neighbourhood cat, I’ll be the quizmaster and umpire, of course,’ said Måns. ‘No further discussion required.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Bill.

  ‘It goes without saying,’ said Bull.

  ‘Well,’ said Måns, ‘then we need to work out who’ll take part. I suggest Fritz and Frida and Rickard and Murre, apart from Pelle.’

  ‘Well, for my part, it will depend on whether I can catch a bus into town,’ said Murre from Skogstibble.

  ‘Aren’t we allowed to join in, Bull and me?’ wondered Bill.

  ‘Yes, what about me and Bill?’ wondered Bull.

  ‘You can’t take part,’ said Måns, ‘because you’re too stupid!’

  ‘Yes, we probably are too stupid,’ said Bill.

  ‘Because stupid’s exactly what we are,’ said Bull.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Måns. ‘So then, you see, I had thought of arranging it so that I give Pelle the hardest questions, which will be impossible for him to answer, and just to be safe, you’ll have to know the answers to your questions in advance. Then Pelle will just stand there feeling
embarrassed … he who’s always bragging about how much he knows.’

  ‘That’s going to be great fun,’ said Rickard from Rickomberga.

  ‘Work out some really hard questions for him!’ said Murre from Skogstibble.

  10

  Herring is a type of bird!

  Pelle was delighted and flattered when Måns came to invite him to take part in the great general knowledge quiz to be held in the old barn on Upper Slottsgatan.

  ‘It’s very nice of you to think of me,’ said Pelle.

  ‘Jojo, yes, well,’ said Måns.

  ‘But the questions won’t be too difficult, will they?’ asked Pelle.

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Måns, ‘seeing as you’re so well educated, you’ll probably be able to answer everything. So, we’ll see you on Tuesday, then. And after the quiz, we’ll be having a simple bite of herring at my place.’

  And then Måns went on his way, feeling very pleased with himself. How easy it was to trick Pelle!

  *

  And so the day of the big quiz arrived. Long lines of cats streamed into the grey barn on Upper Slottsgatan – cats from Åsgränd Alley, cats from Gropgränd Alley and from Kyrkogårdsgatan and from Odinslund. Even Old Maja the Cathedral Cat had dragged herself up to Upper Slottsgatan, and all of Murre’s relatives were there from Skogstibble.

  Soon the barn was completely packed, and the competitors, newly groomed and beautiful, stepped out onto the stage. There were Pelle and Fritz and Frida and Rickard from Rickomberga and Murre from Skogstibble. The audience clapped, although of course you can’t really hear when cats applaud because their paws are so soft. But cats also have good hearing, so they certainly hear a little of the applause. Had there been any humans there, they probably wouldn’t have heard a thing.

  Then Måns appeared and bowed.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Måns. ‘Well, now we’re going to hold a little trivia quiz or a general knowledge competition or whatever you want to call it. Five cats have volunteered to take part in this quiz, and one of them has no tail.’ (Giggles from the audience.)

  ‘I have here a pile of cards with questions,’ Måns continued. ‘I am the only one who knows the questions on the cards.’ (Here Frida coughed.) ‘Now I’m going to spread the cards on the table, like this, and then when I ask the question, I’ll pick one of the cards at random, so there can be no wrongdoing of any sort.’