by Alan Snow
There was a rush for the ship.
“Stop!” cried Willbury. “And I’m a circuit judge!”
“WHOA!” cried the Chief Squeaker. “I am very sorry, my lord, I did not realize that you were so obviously honest. Men, arrest the party on the towpath.”
The policemen turned to the members, still brandishing their handcuffs. But then Snatcher walked forward. “The difference between me an ’im is ‘chalk and cheese,’ ” he said. Then he made funny little signs with his hands.
Then he made funny little signs with his hands.
The police stopped in their tracks. The Chief Squeaker now asked in a quavering voice, “Did you say ‘chalk and cheese’?”
“Yes, I did!” replied Snatcher.
“What kind of cheese is that?” As the Chief spoke, his hands made a number of strange gestures.
Snatcher replied, “That would be a BIG CHEESE!” And he made the same gestures.
“Why is he doing that?” asked Arthur.
“I am not sure,” said a hesitant Willbury.
Marjorie sidled up to them. “I think they are ‘brothers’! Members of the Guilds.”
“What’s that?” asked Arthur.
“Secret organizations. They are making secret signs to each other and using code words to let each other know they are members.”
“Why don’t they just recognize each other?” Arthur asked.
“It’s a very big organization, and there are lots of smaller parts of it. The police probably have their own section,” said Marjorie.
The policemen looked at one another and then fell to their knees. They bowed their heads, and whispered, “We smell strong cheese! We smell strong cheese! It is overpowering. We respect it for it is the most flavorsome, and we are humble. What would it have us do?”
“We smell strong cheese! We smell strong cheese! It is overpowering.”
Snatcher smirked at the policemen fawning before him, then told them, “I think you will find that ‘m’lord’ might well be retired. He holds no power now—and he is harboring a thief who has stolen a pair of mechanical wings from me. From me—A BIG CHEESE! I think that the right course of action would be to arrest the rapscallion who has stolen my wings and return them to me!”
The Chief Squeaker stood up and looked at Willbury.
“Is this so, sir? You are no longer a judge?” he asked.
“Technically that is true . . . ,” replied Willbury.
And before Willbury had a chance to go any further, the Chief Squeaker cut in. “Right! Drop your gangplank, sir! Any failure to do so will be seen as hindering the police in the course of their duties and may force me to arrest you and your entire crew.”
Willbury looked taken aback. “I think we’d better do what he says, otherwise we are going to get into real trouble.”
The pirates reluctantly lowered the gangplank and the Chief Squeaker shouted out, “Arrest the boy!”
The policemen on the towpath rushed onto the ship. Kipper and the other pirates looked as if they were ready for a fight, and the policemen looked nervous.
“Hold back, crew!” said Willbury. Then he whispered to Arthur, “Quick! Fly!”
But there wasn’t time. The policemen grabbed him and snapped handcuffs around his wrists. “Willbury!” Arthur cried, but the police marched him off the ship before Willbury could do a thing to help. The Chief Squeaker removed his wings.
The policemen grabbed him and snapped handcuffs around his wrists.
Arthur’s heart sank. He thought he’d done so well to get himself and the underlings safely out of the Cheese Hall—he couldn’t believe this was happening. Just when he’d got his wings back, to have them taken away from him again! And for the police to be on Snatcher’s side! It all seemed so unjust. But there was no point struggling now. Perhaps he’d find a way to convince the police of his innocence.
“Right! I want a couple of you to take him back to the station,” the Chief Squeaker addressed his men, “while the rest of you maintain order here. Let the respectable gents on the towpath go about their lawful business, and keep a close eye on that ex-lawyer and his bunch of pirates. If any of them try to get off their ship . . . arrest them!” The Chief Squeaker winked at Snatcher.
“Here, sir!” he said as he handed the wings over. “And if we can be of any more service to you?”
Snatcher turned the wings over in his hands, and gave Arthur an oily smile. “I was wondering how we were going to put them back together. You have done us a service. There are a few questions I would like to ask you . . . .” Then he turned to the Chief and spoke in a sly voice. “I know how understaffed you are at the police station. I think it might be as well if you were to let me help you out by keeping the boy.” Snatcher smirked.
“No! You can’t do that!” shouted Willbury from the deck.
“Oh, yes I can!” replied the Chief Squeaker. He then placed a hand on Snatcher’s shoulder.
“By the powers invested in me, I now pronounce you a Temporary Jailer, Class 3. Please take custody of this criminal on behalf of the Ratbridge Police.”
Snatcher gave a slight bow. “Oh, certainly officer. Anything to help out the police!”
“Oi, you two! Grab him!” the new Temporary Jailer, Class 3, snapped at a couple of rather sorry-looking members.
The two approached Arthur. The older one was bandaged from waist to knee, while the younger one’s nose was covered in sticking plaster.
“It’s them! The Trouts!” Marjorie shouted from the deck. “Those are the men who stole—”
The older one was bandaged from waist to knee, while the younger one’s nose was covered in sticking plaster.
The Chief Squeaker cut her off. “Any more trouble from you lot, and I shall have all of you locked up.”
Willbury grabbed Marjorie’s arm.
“Yes. Any more trouble, and I’m sure the police will want to give us the power to administer punishment to our prisoner as well,” said Snatcher, eyeing Willbury.
“Quite right, sir,” responded the Chief. “It is so nice to find a cooperative member of the public like yourself.”
Snatcher then spoke to the Trouts. “Take the boy back to the Cheese Hall!”
Arthur looked nervously back at Willbury as he was led away. “What am I going to do?” he cried. The thought of trying to escape from the Cheese Hall again filled him with despair. And what on earth would they do to him once they got him there?
“We’ll get you back!” called Willbury after him.
“I am sure your diligence will be well rewarded,” Snatcher said with a smirk to the Chief Squeaker. “I will arrange for some ‘paperwork’ to be delivered to you later.”
“Oh, thank you, sir!”
The Chief Squeaker mounted his bicycle and set off down the towpath.
The Chief Squeaker mounted his bicycle and set off down the towpath, leaving his men guarding the Laundry.
“Just when I thought things were getting better!” muttered Willbury. “Poor Arthur—it was so brave of him to rescue the underlings and get his wings back. Now he’s worse off than ever! What are we going to do?”
A Squeaker on guard.
The queen very much enjoyed having her portrait painted, and would sit two weeks for new sets of stamps. For those who couldn’t read, the value of the stamp was defined by the size of cabbage she wore on her head.
chapter 29
EXODUS
They assembled before the throne on the high stone platform at the end of their cavern.
Back in the Underworld, all the remaining cabbageheads had gathered together. They assembled before the throne on the high stone platform at the end of their cavern. The floor of the cavern was now under several feet of water, and the level was rising very quickly.
The queen adjusted the enormous cabbage on her head, and then gave a haughty cough. She was the only cabbagehead who ever spoke louder than a whisper. “We have brought you here today, for we have unfortunate tidings to impart
. Pursuant to the ever-rising levels of ill, commodious ablative liquids, we believe sustainable brassica production ceases to be feasible. Therefore I decree that henceforth we must sojourn to an alternative affiliated venue. Hey nonny nonny, we have spoken!”
The other cabbageheads looked at one another, confused. None of them knew what she was talking about.
Then a very old cabbagehead made his way up the steps to the throne and whispered in the queen’s ear. She gave an embarrassed nod and spoke again.
A very old cabbagehead made his way up the steps to the throne.
“In alternative parlance, it is too wet to grow cabbages here anymore, and we’ll have to find somewhere else to grow them.”
There was a lot of nervous muttering among the cabbage-heads.
The old cabbagehead whispered in the queen’s ear once more. Then she spoke again.
“ ’Tis brought to one’s attention that vertically positioned below dales, some few leagues beyond the confines of the above populace, is a sufficient aperture that we may abide. Thus we might alight and henceforth meander to yonder aperture to re-establish a harmonious, intergraded monarchical community, and go forth with our troglodyte agriculture.”
There was more muttering from the “common” cabbage-heads, and the old cabbagehead once more spoke to the queen. She went a deeper red.
“There is another cave not far from here where we can move to and grow cabbages,” she said rather awkwardly.
A small cabbagehead approached the throne and whispered to the old cabbagehead. He in turn whispered to the queen, and she spoke again. “It would appear that one’s subjects who are currently absent from one’s realm while . . .”
The old cabbagehead gave the queen a steely gaze and the queen started again. “One . . . We need someone to go and find Titus and the others and tell them where we’ve gone.”
Two younger cabbageheads raised their hands.
“Very good,” said the queen. “Now, follow one and one’s assistant,” she said, indicating the old man, “and don’t forget one’s seeds!”
Two younger cabbageheads raised their hands.
She surveyed her kingdom of water and bobbing cabbages one last time.
The crowd all patted their pockets and giggled. The old cabbagehead descended the steps and led them up a tunnel away from the platform.
The queen found herself sitting alone and feeling rather disgruntled. She surveyed her kingdom of water and bobbing cabbages one last time, and then followed.
THE DUNGEON UNDER THE CHEESE HALL
The dungeon under the laboratory has a long and gruesome history, and predates the Cheese Hall by hundreds of years. It was constructed in 1247, as the dungeon/torture chamber/nursery/food cellar/rubbish tip for Ratbridge castle. In 1453, revolting peasants destroyed the castle. Eight babies and three hardened criminals survived—trapped in the dungeon for two years before they were discovered by a team of local builders, who were redeveloping the site as a shoe shop. For the next hundred years, the dungeon was used as a storeroom for shoes, and the equipment left over from the torturing came in handy for fitting shoes to those who lied about shoe size.
During this period, a small cheese shop was built next door, and due to foul and sharp practices, became very successful. When the shoe shop failed, it was bought up by the cheese shop owner and was used as a secret workshop where date-expired labels were filed off cheeses and newly forged ones applied. The cheese shop became wholesalers and gained control of the cheese trade in the area. Other cheese traders had to become members of a cheese guild (set up by the wholesalers) to be allowed to trade, and the empire expanded.
In 1712 the Cheese Hall was built and a laboratory was built behind it to further the “science” of adulteration. The dungeon found much use for the storage of those who caused any problems for the cheese guild, and long-term storage of failed experiments.
chapter 30
BACK BELOW THE CHEESE HALL
In the dungeon the members surrounded Arthur.
In the dungeon the members surrounded Arthur.
“What are we going to do with you, my little thief?” asked Snatcher.
“I am not the thief!” snapped Arthur.
“Oh yes, you are! You took my wings!”
“Those were my wings. You stole them from me in the first place.”
“That is as may be, but they are mine now. And for all the grief you’ve caused me, I think pretty much everything of yours is as good as mine.” Snatcher glared at Arthur. “Search ’im!”
The members descended on Arthur and emptied his pockets.
“Not much here, sir!”
Then one of the members noticed the bump under Arthur’s shirt.
“He’s got something up his jumper!”
“Get it!” ordered Snatcher.
Arthur tried to defend his doll with his cuffed hands, but he was overpowered and the doll was pulled from him.
“What have we here?” asked Snatcher. “The little boy has a little dolly!”
“Ahhhh!” scoffed the members.
“The little boy has a little dolly!”
Arthur grasped frantically for the doll. Snatcher laughed and threw it on the floor.
“By the time I’ve finished with you, that dolly is going to look like your big brother.”
The members laughed.
“What do you mean?” asked Arthur, squirming.
“Haven’t you guessed yet? Have you not realized why we are collecting big creatures and why only little creatures leave here? We are nicking their SIZE!” sneered Snatcher.
Snatcher laughed and threw it on the floor.
Arthur froze. “Size?”
“Yes!” Snatcher laughed. “It so happens that we have come by a certain device . . .”—he stopped and winked at the Trouts, who were holding Arthur—“that can extract the size from things. All your little friends who came our way are now your even littler friends.”
Snatcher and the others burst out laughing.
“But what’s the point in doing that?” Arthur asked.
“That is for us to know. It is part of our BIG plan.” There was more laughter. Then Snatcher’s face changed, and his voice turned nasty. “And if was not for you, things might be progressing a lot faster. I needed them monsters you freed. Perhaps you might like to donate some of your size instead?”
Arthur did not reply.
“Yes. I thought that might shut you up. You’ve put a wrench in the works. Now we have to go and find a load more monsters to shrink!” snarled Snatcher. He turned to the Trouts. “Throw him in a cell. We’ll sort him out the next time we fire up the machine.” Then he grinned horribly. “And next time I go out on a little selling trip, I am sure all the ladies will be falling over themselves to buy a miniature boy!” He looked directly at Arthur, put on a silly face, and spoke in the unmistakable tones of Madame Froufrou: “I’ave only one of zese little creatures, for sale to zee most fashionably rich lady of all!”
Arthur gaped. So that explained why Madame Froufrou had reminded him so strongly of Snatcher! And the clothes in the desk! Was this man behind everything sinister in the town?
Sniggering at the look on Arthur’s face, the Trouts threw him through the door of the cell that had contained the trotting badgers. Snatcher locked the door. Arthur noticed that the keys were now attached to his waistcoat by a heavy metal chain.
Arthur noticed that the keys were now attached to his waistcoat by a heavy metal chain.
“When are we going to fire up the machine?” asked Gristle.
“The sooner the better,” replied Snatcher. “But there is no point doing it just for the boy; we’ll get some more monsters to put in it.”
“Does that mean we have to go down . . . below?” Gristle said with a grimace.
“Don’t worry, Gristle. I am sure somebody will hold your hand.” Snatcher smirked. Arthur noticed the other members also looked worried.
A quick cup of tea.
Snat
cher sighed deeply. “I think a quick cup of tea is in order,” he said, then all the members set off up the stairs, leaving Arthur alone in the dungeon.
Arthur alone in the dungeon.
The police had set up camp on the towpath.
chapter 31
THE STANDOFF
Kipper was standing with Tom on the deck, watching the Squeakers.
Back at the Laundry there was a standoff. The police had set up camp on the towpath, and the crew stood about looking dejected. They were running out of food. Normally the crew would have gone shopping late on market day (to pick up bargains), but with all the excitement yesterday, they had forgotten, and now they were not allowed off the ship.
Kipper was standing with Tom on the deck, watching the Squeakers tuck into the eggs and bacon they had cooked over a fire they had started on the towpath. The smell of the bacon wafted over the side of the Laundry.
“This is torture!” muttered Kipper.
“I think they must be doing it to wind us up,” replied Tom.
The boxtrolls were also becoming uneasy, sniffing the air and gurgling to one another. Fish stared hard at the feasting Squeakers. One of the new boxtrolls joined Fish and whispered something to him.
The Squeakers were tucking into the eggs and bacon they had cooked over a fire.
“I can feel my energy sapping away,” said Kipper. “If I don’t get something to eat soon, I shall just fade away.”
Tom looked up at Kipper’s belly. “The chance of you fading away is pretty remote. It’s us rats I am worried about. We have a very high metabolic rate you know.” Tom stopped and tugged on Kipper’s arm. Then he pointed at Fish who was moving very slowly down the gangplank toward the bank.
“What’s he doing?” whispered Tom.
