by Lyn Gardner
She saw Tat tighten his belt and her face fell. “I’m so sorry, Tat. I feel terrible, but at all costs we really must avoid running into debt again.”
“Please don’t worry, Mrs. Trout,” said Hetty kindly. “Tat and I are going treasure hunting this afternoon at the castle, so maybe the Trout family finances will be restored by dinner.”
“I hope so,” said Tallulah, “because then we can have whole donuts for dessert. For the last three weeks we’ve only been able to have the hole in the middle.”
The door opened and Mr. Trout came in, looking exhausted. He had a bird on his shoulder.
“What’s that?” asked Mrs. Trout.
Mr. Trout smiled. “It’s a budgie, of course, my dear. This morning at breakfast you said that what the Trouts desperately needed was a family budgie. So I got us one. Found it in the pet shop going cheap.”
Mrs. Trout stared at her husband impatiently. “Are you joking?” she asked sharply.
“No, I’m Mr. Trout,” he replied, puzzled. He really thought his wife should know who he was, as they had been married for fifteen years and had two children together.
“Budget. I said we needed a budget, not a budgie,” snapped Mrs. Trout, even though she rarely snapped at her husband because she loved him dearly. “A budgie is another mouth to feed.”
“The budgie can have my carrot,” said Mr. Trout quietly, and he looked so stricken at his mistake that Mrs. Trout leaped from her chair guiltily and hugged him.
“Actually,” said Hetty, looking at the bedraggled bird, “that’s not a budget or a budgie.”
They all turned to her.
“That is Pegleg Polly,” said Hetty, “the Ghastly McNastys’ parrot.”
“Nasty boys!” squawked Pegleg Polly. It had been Pegleg Polly who pulled the plug on the McNastys’ ship, The Rotten Apple, causing it to sink.
Polly was furious that she had been sucked into the belly of the whale alongside the twins. She had felt sick as a dog the whole time because the twins behaved very badly toward her. Every time she fell asleep, they had tried to catch her and turn her into parrot burgers. The McNastys seemed to have no idea that eating your pets is very, very wrong. Pegleg Polly was delighted to be rid of the McNastys. She looked mournfully at Mrs. Trout.
“Pretty Polly, hungry Polly,” she said hopefully. Polly was always hungry.
Mrs. Trout smiled. “What’s one more mouth?” she said. “I’ll just have to redo the family budget to include the budgie, or, rather, parrot. She can stay. Give that poor, hungry bird the last carrot.”
Pegleg Polly flew across the room and gave Mrs. Trout an affectionate peck on the cheek.
“Ah, love at first bite,” said Mr. Trout, looking at this touching scene and trying not to think about the hole in his belly.
(IMPORTANT! PLEASE NOTE:
Mr. Trout did not actually have a hole in his stomach, which would be a medical emergency. It is merely a turn of phrase indicating that Mr. Trout was so hungry he could eat a horse, although Mr. Trout loved horses and would never ever dream of trying to eat one, unlike the McNastys, who would eat anything except boiled hippopotamus, all green vegetables and yak’s milk pudding.)
“Come on,” said Tat, jumping to his feet. “Let’s go treasure hunting.”
Dog jumped up with excitement, wagged his tail furiously and meowed loudly. Dog loved digging for things, particularly old shoes and treasure.
Pegleg Polly flew from her perch on top of the kitchen cupboards and landed on Tat’s shoulder.
“Yes, you must come, too, Polly,” said Tat.
A strange look came over his face.
“What’s wrong, Tat?” asked Mrs. Trout, wondering if Tat was coming down with the measles. “Are you sick?”
“No,” said Tat. “I just had an idea.”
The Trout family stared at him anxiously. Ideas could be such dangerous things. You never knew where they might lead.
“If Pegleg Polly is here in Little Snoring, then maybe the McNastys are here, too. If they are, then they’ll be looking for Captain Syd’s treasure.”
“Clever boy. This Trout is not a twit,” squawked Polly excitedly.
“You’re right, Tat,” said Hetty admiringly. “We’re going to have to keep our eyes peeled for them.”
“We may have to do more than that,” said Tat. “We need to lure them into a trap.”
“But we’ll have to find them first,” said Hetty.
Tat nodded. “That’s easy peasy. Sooner or later they’ll hear that Captain Syd’s treasure may be buried in the castle. When they do, they’ll head straight there to get their greedy hands on it.”
“You are clever,” said Hetty.
Tat blushed. “Let’s go treasure and pirate hunting!”
“Yes,” agreed Hetty. “But let’s go prepared.” She reached for a sheet of paper and started to draw a treasure map based on the plan of the castle that Miss Green had shown the class.
That is quite enough of Chapter 3.
Chapter 4
T he Ghastly McNastys were dismayed to discover that there was a long line of pirates outside the castle. They didn’t realize that these people were simply dressed as pirates and had all come to audition to be extras in Raiders of the Lost Shark. They thought they were all real — but oddly well-behaved — pirates, also seeking the treasure.
In fact, with the exception of Tat and Hetty, the Little Snoring villagers had long ago lost interest in the treasure, which, despite the continuous rumors and pronouncements from experts that it was buried in Little Snoring, had never been found. They were all much more excited about finding fame as extras in a Hollywood movie.
But the McNastys thought they had to get into the castle before everyone else and find the treasure first. They certainly didn’t want to have to share it — the McNastys hated sharing anything, except their nits and fleas, which they did their best to give to everyone.
They elbowed their way through the crowd, knocking the pirate hats off several old ladies and stamping on the toes of every single child from the Greater Snoring Stage School for Little Brats and Terrible Show-offs and making them cry and get hiccups so they had to go home and stand on their heads (which, as everybody knows, is the best cure for hiccups). The McNastys made their way over the drawbridge and under the portcullis, and barged to the front of the line. They were about to step through the castle door when they were barred by a man with a mustache so small and shiny that it looked as if a slug had taken up residence on his top lip.
“Are you here for the auditions?” he demanded.
“No, we’re here for the treasure,” said Captain Gruesome.
Grisly kicked him. Maybe this man didn’t know about the treasure. The fewer people who knew about the treasure, the better.
“I’m afraid the castle is closed to everyone except those auditioning to play extras in the blockbuster movie Raiders of the Lost Shark,” said the man.
The McNastys tried to push past him, but he stopped them. “You can’t come in. My word is law! Smell my feet!”
Captain Gruesome thought it an odd request but he had always found the aroma of junkyards and smelly feet oddly alluring.
He began to bend down, but Captain Grisly turned to the man and said nastily, “You are such a bossypants!”
“How did you know my name?” demanded the man, who really was called Mr. Bossypants. He was Bigwig Junior the Third’s personal assistant, and he certainly lived up to his name. He bossed Bigwig Junior around — he’d even ordered him to break off his engagement once, saying love and marriage would get in the way of his art, but that was because Mr. Bossypants was secretly jealous of Bigwig.
(Bigwig Junior the Third had been living unhappily ever after, because he had really loved his fiancé and had dreamed of marrying her, retiring from the movie business and moving to Little Snoring.)
Captain Gruesome realized that if he wanted to get into the castle, he was either going to have to harm Mr. Bossypants with his
cutlass or flatter him. He decided that flattery was less messy.
“We know your name because everyone has heard of Mr. Bossypants. Your name is famed far and wide at the Royal Sharkspeare Company, where my brother and I have been acting and winning awards for the last few years. They are in awe of you.”
“The Royal Sharkspeare Company,” said Mr. Bossypants, looking impressed. He had never heard of the Royal Sharkspeare Company but it must be a truly wonderful theater company if they had heard of him.
“You must be great friends with those directors, John Dory and Jack Spratt?” said Captain Gruesome.
“Oh, of course,” gushed Mr. Bossypants, although he had never heard of them either.
“The best of their generation,” said Captain Gruesome. “They directed me when I gave my famous performance as Haddock, Prince of Denmark.” He bowed low. “We are the McLuvvies. At your service and always in the service of art.”
“Darlings, how absolutely marvelous. So authentic the way you’ve dressed for the audition. Only true artists would go to such trouble.” Mr. Bossypants sniffed. There was a strange smell of maggoty fish hanging around the McLuvvies, but he guessed it must be their way of getting into character. “You’re in luck. This morning two of the actors playing pirates had to be fired from the set. They claimed to have seen two pirates, a parrot and a teddy bear flying through the air. What nonsense! So I’m sure that I can get Biggiewiggie to give you their roles. You’ll just have to do a little audition to show him how brilliantly you both act.”
They followed him into the castle, delighted to have got inside.
“Squeaky underpants! I don’t know how to act,” hissed Captain Grisly.
“You won’t have to,” whispered Captain Gruesome. “You are auditioning to play a pirate and you are a pirate. And you’re not actually going to act in the movie — you’ll be too busy looking for the treasure. But if we get cast, we’ll have free run of the castle and can go where we like and find the treasure before anyone else.”
Chapter 5
T at, Hetty, Dog and Pegleg Polly looked at the long line outside the castle. At this rate it would be the end of the summer holidays before they got inside. When Hetty had seen the line of people waiting to audition, she had said thoughtfully, “I wonder if the McNastys are here? They would be hard to spot because everyone is dressed like pirates. We really are going to have to be on the lookout for them.”
They went to talk to their friend Mrs. Slime, who was standing in line.
“Is Miss Green okay?” asked Tat, who was worried about his teacher and knew the two women had become good friends.
Mrs. Slime shook her head sadly. “Poor woman. She’s in bad shape. She can’t stop crying. I only wish I knew why, but she won’t say. If we could just think of a way to cheer her up.”
There was a sudden commotion at the front of the line.
“Look!” said Hetty urgently. “It’s the McNastys, and they’re getting into the castle. You were right, Tat. They must be here to look for the treasure and grab it for themselves.”
“You must stop them,” said Mrs. Slime.
“We plan to,” said Tat, triumphantly producing the treasure map that Hetty had drawn from his pocket. After being in Tat’s pocket for a little while, the map now looked centuries old. “We’re going to use it to lure the McNastys into a deep, dark, dingy dungeon — number 244 — and lock them in while we try and find the treasure.”
“Clever idea,” said Mrs. Slime approvingly. “I’ll come with you and help.”
But getting into the castle proved a problem. Just when they had snuck to the front of the line and thought they were about to succeed, the bossy little man with a mustache had returned to the door and barred their way.
“Go away, horrible children, go away. The talented performing infants from the Greater Snoring Stage School for Little Brats and Terrible Show-offs are coming to play the children’s roles. We don’t need any more repulsive children.”
He looked at Pegleg Polly with disgust. “Or that pathetic excuse for a parrot. We’ve got wooden parrots. They always give much better performances.”
Pegleg Polly looked crestfallen.
Dog and Polly had struck up quite a friendship. Unseen, Dog cocked his leg against the man. A trickle ran down Mr. Bossypants’s leg. He didn’t notice — he was too busy sneering at Mrs. Slime and her nose, which had begun to run rather a lot because of the stress.
“GO AWAY! Do you not know who I am? I am the famed Mr. Bossypants, personal assistant to Bigwig Junior the Third. My word is law. Smell my feet!”
They certainly didn’t want to do that, and in any case Mr. Bossypants slammed the castle door in their faces, which lightly grazed the end of all their noses and Pegleg Polly’s beak.
“What are we going to do now?” asked Tat.
“I wonder if castles have back doors?” said Hetty.
They walked around to the other side of the castle until they found a drawbridge across the moat — which wasn’t much use to them since the drawbridge was raised.
“Wait a minute,” said Tat suddenly. “I could swim across the moat.”
“You could,” said Hetty, who knew that Tat was a champion swimmer. “But we still wouldn’t be able lower the drawbridge, since it’s probably locked from inside the castle.”
Tat looked at Pegleg Polly, who was lying on the ground, relaxing. “If Polly could fly over the walls and undo the bridge’s bolts with her beak, maybe I could pry the drawbridge down and then the rest of you could come across.”
“Clever Tat! Not a twit!” squawked Pegleg Polly.
“Wait,” said Hetty. “I thought they were going to put sharks in the moat for the movie.”
“They are,” said Tat. “But only when they start filming tomorrow. Look — there are no sharks now.” He felt in his pocket and dropped a jam sandwich in the moat. They were mobbed by a family of ducks, but there was no sign of any sharks.
“Let’s do it,” said Hetty. She grinned at her friend. “You are brave as well as clever, Tat.”
So Tat swam across the moat, and Pegleg Polly flew over the ramparts and pulled back the bolts on either side of the drawbridge. Tat found an old iron bar on the grass and inserted it into the side of the drawbridge, and it crashed open easily. If Tat hadn’t jumped swiftly out of the way, he would have been completely squashed and could have been turned into sixty-seven pots of jam.
They headed straight down to the dungeons. The film crew was busy and fortunately took little notice of them, assuming they were extras. The dungeons were deep, dark, dank and dingy, and Tat was shivering hard after his swim.
“My teeth won’t stop ch-ch-ch-chattering,” he whispered to Hetty.
“I just hope they’re saying something interesting,” said Hetty. She handed him the sweater she had tied around her waist. He put it on gratefully.
They were deciding which way to go when they heard a voice (which is not at all surprising — you would only be surprised if you saw a voice).
“Hey! You kids! This way, this way.” The man was smiling and he looked nice. He held out his hand.
“I’m Bigwig Junior the Third and I’m the director of Raiders of the Lost Shark. You must be the kids from the Greater Snoring Stage School for Little Brats and Terrible Show-offs and …” He turned to Mrs. Slime. “… and you, madam, must be their chaperone.” He caught sight of Polly and Dog. “These must be the animal extras we ordered. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. We need to get you into your costumes so that we can rehearse the scene and then we can shoot you tomorrow.”
Pegleg Polly gave a frightened squawk. She didn’t want to be shot tomorrow. In fact she didn’t want to be shot at all. Even the Ghastly McNastys had never suggested shooting her. She hopped about anxiously on Tat’s shoulder until Hetty explained that shooting a movie didn’t involve anyone getting killed.
Tat and Hetty had seen the children from the Greater Snoring Stage School for Little Brats and Terrible Show
-offs after the McNastys had trampled the children in the line. They had all been crying and hiccupping and vowing never to return to the castle, so they knew that they wouldn’t be coming back. Tat and Hetty looked at each other. They had been so focused on finding the treasure, they hadn’t thought about being in the movie. Hetty loved acting, and Tat had always wanted to give it a try, but Miss Green would never give him a proper part in school plays. When they had done a nativity play, Tat had been cast as the manger. The critic from the Little Snoring Gazette had been very complimentary — she said she had never seen a performance quite so wooden.
“Actually,” said Tat shyly, “we’re not from the Greater Snoring Stage School for Little Brats and Terrible Show-offs, but we’ll give it our best.”
“Splendid,” said Bigwig, who felt quite relieved. These children seemed delightful, and they wouldn’t have to do much — just dress up as little pirates, look fierce and go “arrrgh” a lot. “Well, if you are prepared to step in on such short notice, I would be very grateful. In fact I’m so grateful I’ll not only pay you the going rate but throw in unlimited donuts, too.”
“Would the donuts include the entire donut or would it just be the hole?” asked Tat.
Bigwig looked shocked. “Of course it would be the whole thing. The hole alone is hardly worth the effort. And you can have the run of the castle to play in, as long as you are not scared of spiders.”
“We love spiders,” said Hetty. “We did a school project on them.”
“Good. But keep a lookout for the great big hairy spider the size of a car tire. I’d love to see it myself, but no luck yet. It’s very rare and it could be very friendly, too, but we can’t be completely sure. So if you spot it, whatever you do, don’t do anything to upset it, because we can’t afford to lose any more of the cast.”
It was too good an offer for the children to turn down. Bigwig held out his hand and they all shook it (including Dog and Polly), and then he took them to the costume department, which was like the biggest dress-up trunk in the world. But the children didn’t have time to stop and play — they were on a mission to find the world’s ghastliest and nastiest pirates and find Captain Syd’s lost treasure, too.
