This time Mrs Tucker didn’t correct her.
Michael looked downcast.
Atticus thought fast. Just because Black Beard-Jumper’s men had turned the place over didn’t mean they had found what they were looking for. Atticus forgot about the gathering darkness and the jungle that lay between them and the relative safety of the ship and tried to think like a detective.
Inspector Cheddar had once told him the best way to find clues at a crime scene was to imagine that you were the criminal. (That had been a lot easier for Atticus than for Inspector Cheddar because Atticus had actually once been a criminal.) Maybe, considered Atticus, it was the same for pirates. If I were Fishhook Frank he thought and I was trying to hide something, what would I do?
He frowned. Something that Callie had said a minute ago nagged at him. He tried to remember. The witch’s cottage from Hansel and Gretel. That was it! And according to Mr Tucker, Fishhook Frank had called it that too.
Atticus had seen the story in Callie’s big storybook. The first time Hansel and Gretel were abandoned in the woods they left a trail of stones in the wood for their father to find them. The second time they left a trail of breadcrumbs, which the birds ate. Fishhook Frank liked stories. Maybe he’d had the same idea. Maybe he’d left a trail leading to the map.
Atticus went back outside and scanned the clearing. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for: some kind of path made out of … Wait! There! A small metallic object gleamed in the gloom. Beyond it another lay another! And another! Fishhooks! Atticus purred with pleasure. Of course! It was brilliant. Fishhook Frank had laid a trail of fishhooks for his friends to follow just in case he was rescued by the wrong pirates!
Atticus padded from one fishhook to the next. The trail wasn’t straight. Sometimes he had to look hard in the dirt or under a plant to find the next hook. But gradually, paw by paw, Atticus found himself being led to the edge of the jungle behind the cottage.
The trail stopped abruptly at a gnarled tree stump. The final fishhook lay beside it in the grass. The map must be hidden in the hollow stump. Atticus surveyed the tree stump with distaste. It was nearly dark now, but it was still light enough to make out that the stump’s nooks and crannies were crawling with beetles. He closed his eyes, stretched out a paw and felt into the tree trunk. His stomach squirmed. He could feel the creepy-crawlies scratching at the fur on his foreleg. He gritted his teeth and dug deeper into the mouldy interior. His paw touched something hard and slippery. He tried to catch hold of it but the object slipped out of his grasp. Atticus took a deep breath. He wriggled closer to the tree trunk, trying to ignore the flutter and hum of the beetles on his whiskers. He extended his paw further into the trunk. There! Growling with the effort he managed to hook his paw around the object and flick it closer. Sitting on his haunches he put both paws into the hollow, took hold of the object’s curved sides and pulled it out.
Atticus brushed the beetles off his whiskers and gave his paw a quick wash with his tongue. PHHTT! The leaf mould tasted even worse than seawater.
He sat back and examined his find. It was an old biscuit tin. He started to ease the lid off with his claws.
Just then he heard a familiar whisper of movement in the trees. Atticus looked up, startled. This time he glimpsed more than a shadow. This time he saw the animal that had been following them earlier.
A small black cat with a grizzled muzzle and a crooked tail stepped out of the darkness and eyed him warily.
Atticus placed the biscuit tin down carefully. The strange cat took a step towards it. Its eyes shifted towards the tin then back to Atticus. It took another step then reached out a paw and tried to hook the tin by the lid with its claws. Atticus pushed the tin out of the way and stood in front of it. He didn’t know what to do. The cat was a female, but it looked intent on a fight. Atticus hated fighting. And he certainly didn’t want to do it with an old lady cat.
‘Atticus!’ A voice shouted. It was Michael. ‘Where are you?’
At the sound of a human voice, the black cat hesitated.
‘There he is!’ Callie yelled.
The beam of a powerful torch wobbled across the tree stump and fell on Atticus.
The black cat started to back away.
‘Wait!’ Michael said. ‘What’s that?’
The roving light caught the small black cat in the eye. She blinked, momentarily dazzled.
The humans rushed over, all except Mr Tucker, who limped. When he saw the small black cat, to Atticus’s amazement he gave a yelp of joy.
‘Bones!’ he cried. ‘It’s you! After all these years! What a stroke of luck!’
Back at the ship, Bones bounced out of the dinghy and zipped up the ladder after the children. It was pitch black now but the ship had powerful lights which guided the dinghy back through the bumpy surf.
‘See?’ Mr Tucker beamed. ‘What did I tell youze? That cat’s got claass.’
Atticus regarded Bones sourly as she leapt athletically on to the deck. They hadn’t exchanged any meows yet, only suspicious looks. What was Bones doing on the island anyway? Atticus wondered. Had Fishhook Frank left her there? And why did she hide from Mr Tucker? Atticus was sure it was Bones that had been following them through the jungle. She must have seen Mr Tucker. So why didn’t she want him to know she was there? And what did she want with the biscuit tin? Did she know it contained Fishhook Frank’s map?
Atticus felt instinctively that something about Bones didn’t quite add up.
‘Come on, Atticus!’ Mr Tucker shouted.
Atticus placed a foot on the first rung of the ladder and began to haul himself up, paw by paw. He wasn’t going let Bones see him being hoisted on board in a canvas bag!
Inspector and Mrs Cheddar greeted everybody on deck.
‘We were so worried about you when we saw you head off into the jungle!’ Mrs Cheddar hugged the children. She looked past Atticus to see if anyone else was coming up the ladder. ‘Where’s Fishhook Frank?’ she asked.
‘Gone,’ Mr Tucker said. ‘Captain Black Beard-Jumper got to him first.’
Inspector Cheddar’s expression was stricken. ‘I’m doomed,’ he cried. ‘Doomed to die a horrible cruel death!’
‘Don’t worry, Dad! Michael said hastily. ‘The good news is Atticus found Bones.’
‘I’s never thought I would see her again!’ Mr Tucker said ecstatically. ‘Me old friend, Bones!’
‘And Bones found this.’ Michael held out the biscuit tin.
WHAT? Atticus couldn’t believe his ears. Michael had got everything round the wrong way. It was he who had found the biscuit tin. And Bones who had found him! He glanced at Bones. But Bones was busy tying a complicated knot in a piece of rope with her teeth. She didn’t look up.
‘I don’t want a biscuit,’ Inspector Cheddar complained. ‘I just had dinner.’
‘No, Dad! You don’t get it! There’s a map inside which shows where the casket’s hidden,’ Callie said. ‘Fishook Frank made it.’
Inspector Cheddar clasped his hands together in joy. ‘Well done, Bones!’ he said. ‘You would make an excellent police cat detective.’ He glared at Atticus. ‘Unlike some cats I could mention.’
This time Atticus glared back at him. He’d had enough of Inspector Cheddar and his rude comments. He’d found the biscuit tin and that was that. Maybe one day Inspector Cheddar would thank him for it, if he ever discovered the truth.
Mr Tucker rattled the biscuit tin. ‘Now let’s get below and see what Fishhook’s got for us.’
Atticus looked around for Bones, but she had disappeared. He padded after the others into the cabin. To his surprise, Bones was already down there, sweeping the floor with a duster tied to her tail.
‘That’s it, Bones,’ Mr Tucker said. ‘Trust you to keep everything shipshape!’ He gave Bones a quick pat on the head. ‘Good to have you back as me ship’s cat after all these years.’
Atticus didn’t really mind Bones replacing him. He’d never wanted to be ship’s cat in
the first place. But there was still something odd about the way Bones was behaving. First she completely ignored Mr Tucker on the island: now she couldn’t do enough for him. And the biscuit tin. Why had she tried to take it? Atticus still couldn’t work it out. It didn’t make sense. Unless …
Mr Tucker removed the lid from the biscuit tin and took out a large piece of rolled parchment. He spread the parchment on the table.
Atticus jumped on to the table beside Bones, who had somehow managed to get there first. Her eyes were glued to the map.
The map was the size of a poster. A strip had been torn from one corner: the strip that Fishhook Frank had used to write the message in the bottle, Atticus guessed. It was the same thick yellow paper.
Atticus found his eyes were glued to the map too. It was covered in extraordinary pictures drawn in different coloured inks. It showed mountainous waves and swirling whirlpools and jagged flashes of lightning. It showed a sea swarming with creatures that Atticus had never seen before and a ship battling for survival amidst the writhing tentacles of a giant squid. It showed fire spouting from a conical mountain and a path that led into the mountain under a waterfall of lava.
Atticus’s eyes travelled downwards. Deep beneath the mountain lay an underground lagoon.
And in the centre of the lagoon, across a path of stepping stones, was an X.
‘That’s where it be,’ Mr Tucker said. ‘X marks the spot where the caarrsket lies.’ He placed a thumb on the bottom right-hand corner of the map.
‘Where are we at the moment, Herman?’ Mrs Tucker asked.
Mr Tucker placed his other thumb on the top left-hand corner furthest away from the X. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘We’s got to cross all this to reach it.’
‘Mr Tucker, when you went in search of the casket before with Fishhook Frank, how far did you get?’ Michael asked.
Mr Tucker scratched his beard-jumper. ‘We’s sailed through the Sea of Calamity and past the Whirlpool of Doom,’ he remembered. ‘We’s survived the Storm of Stupefaction. It was when we got partway through the Ocean of Terror that disaster struck.’ His hand went to his wooden leg. ‘That’s where the magical sea creatures be,’ he explained. ‘Including the man-eating plankton.’
Man-eating plankton?! Atticus hoped they didn’t eat cats as well – only men.
‘Is that what the little green things with big teeth are?’ Callie asked, pointing at the swarm of strange sea creatures.
‘Aye. They nip worse than piranhas, they do,’ Mr Tucker said. ‘Strip the flesh off your bones in seconds.’
Atticus swallowed.
‘But they’s nothing compared to the other creatures what lurk in the Ocean of Terror,’ Mr Tucker went on. ‘Take the giant lobster. Bigger than a whale, it is, with a claw the size of a sailor.’ His face was grim. ‘It was that beast what clipped off me leg.’
There was a moment’s silence in the cabin in memory of Mr Tucker’s leg.
‘How did you … you know … survive when it happened?’ Michael asked.
Atticus flattened his ears. He was squeamish about blood. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
‘Fishhook made a tourniquet out of rope,’ Mr Tucker explained, ‘and tied it round what was left of me leg to stop the blood gushing out. I used part of me beard-jumper as a dressing. Then Bones patched it up with a bit of sail cloth. Most loyal ship’s cat ever, Bones!’
Atticus looked hard at Bones. Captain Black Beard-Jumper had said much the same thing about her just before he cursed Inspector Cheddar at the beard-jumper competition.
Mr Tucker clapped his hands. ‘We’d best make a staarrt tonight if we’s to catch the Doubloon. I’ll take the first watch.’ He got up from the table.
‘We should tell the Commander what’s happened,’ Mrs Cheddar said.
Mrs Tucker sat down at the radio and placed the headphones over her ears. She twiddled a few knobs and spoke into the mouthpiece. ‘Destiny calling Clover,’ she said. ‘Do you copy?’ Clover was the name of the Commander’s ship.
‘Mum, can I borrow your phone to take a picture of the map?’ Michael asked. ‘We can scan it into the computer and send it to the Commander. There’s no signal out here.’
Mrs Cheddar rummaged in her bag. ‘Here you are. I think there’s a tiny bit of battery left.’
Michael snapped a few close-ups of the map. ‘Thanks.’ He fed a lead from the computer into the phone and tapped a few keys. Nothing happened. The screen was blank. ‘That’s funny,’ he said. ‘I can’t get the computer to work.’
‘And I can’t get the radio to work either,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘Destiny calling Clover,’ she repeated. ‘Do you copy?’ The only sound that came from the headphones was a loud hissing. Atticus could hear it from where he sat on the table. ‘Herman, check the power.’
Mr Tucker opened a cupboard beneath the computer. Inside was a gauge like a clock, with numbers ticking round on a display. ‘It’s on,’ he said.
Atticus jumped down to take a look.
‘I think I’ve found the problem!’ Michael was checking the cables. He pulled a fistful of loose wires from the back of the computer station. ‘Look!’ The ends were frayed as if something had chewed through them.
‘Rats!’ Mr Tucker spat. ‘I’s bet they got on board when the ship was in poorrt. Soon as they saw Atticus they must have disappeared smaartish.’
Atticus frowned. He hadn’t seen any rats. And there was no evidence that they’d ever been on board. Rats left droppings. They left fur balls and fleas, not to mention a nasty smell of rat wee. The ship was as clean as a whistle and had been from the moment they’d stepped on deck. Whatever it was that had chewed the wires it wasn’t rats. And if it wasn’t rats, Atticus thought, it could only be one thing.
‘So, we can’t reach the Commander,’ Mrs Cheddar said slowly.
‘No,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘It looks like we’re on our own.’
‘Don’t youze worry: I knows what I’s doing,’ Mr Tucker said briskly. ‘Bones, you can take over the wheel when youze finished dusting the floor. Atticus, stay with Bones and don’t touch anything.’
Everyone disappeared on deck. Only Atticus and Bones were left in the cabin.
‘Do you want some help?’ Atticus offered. He didn’t really want to help. He wanted some answers. But it broke the ice.
‘No,’ Bones said shortly. ‘You heard Mr Tucker.’
Atticus said nothing further. He waited.
The silence in the cabin was broken by the swish of Bones’s tail. After a few minutes Bones untied the duster, folded it neatly and started towards the steps, avoiding Atticus’s eye.
‘Oh no you don’t.’ Atticus stood in her way.
Bones still didn’t look directly at him. ‘Didn’t you hear the Captain?’ she muttered. ‘He wants me on deck.’
‘And you always do what the Captain says,’ Atticus said softly. ‘Don’t you, Bones? Most loyal ship’s cat, aren’t you? Just like Mr Tucker said.’
Bones said nothing.
‘Only it’s not Captain Tucker you’re loyal to, is it, Bones?’ Atticus whispered. ‘It’s Captain Black Beard-Jumper.’
‘No!’ Bones let out a choked meow. ‘You’ve got it all wrong.’
‘Have I?’ Atticus said. ‘Then tell me why you chewed those cables.’
Bones was silent for a moment.
‘Well?’ Atticus said. ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’
Bones took a deep breath. ‘My mother was Captain Black Beard-Jumper’s first ship’s cat,’ she began.
Atticus was startled. He hadn’t expected that. What did Bones’s mother have to do with it? Whatever it was he didn’t think anything Bones had to say could make up for her betrayal.
‘Go on,’ he said coldly.
‘She was beautiful,’ Bones continued. ‘A silky black animal with the longest whiskers anyone had ever seen and the deepest green eyes. I don’t know where she came from originally. Somewhere in India I think. The story on board the Golden D
oubloon was that the Captain bought her from a mystic and that there was something magical about her too.’ Bones sighed. ‘Whatever the real story was, the Captain believed she brought him luck.’ She paused.
Atticus said nothing. He still couldn’t fathom where Bones was going with this.
‘She sailed everywhere with him. She sailed the China Seas and the Pacific. She sailed the Indian Ocean and around the Caribbean. Then one day, when they were in port in Africa, she met my father. She told me he was handsome,’ Bones purred softly. ‘A tabby, like you.’
Atticus couldn’t help purring back. It seemed like a long time since anyone had paid him a compliment. And he was handsome. He was pleased Bones had noticed. Then he frowned. He wasn’t going to let Bones flatter her way out of this. ‘So what?’ he asked. ‘What has any of this to do with you chewing the cables?’
‘I’m getting to that,’ Bones said.
Atticus could hear the sadness in her voice. He decided not to interrupt again.
‘My mother wanted to stay with my father. They hid in the port but Captain Black Beard-Jumper sent the crew out looking for her. He didn’t want to lose his lucky charm.’ Bones’s voice faltered. ‘They found them. They killed my father and dragged my mother back to the ship.’
Atticus remained silent. It sounded like she’d never spoken to any other cat before about what happened.
‘A few weeks later,’ Bones said, ‘she had five kittens. I was the firstborn. And I was the only black one. The others were tabby after my father: like you.’ She took a deep breath.
Atticus wondered what was coming next.
‘Captain Black Beard-Jumper had no use for them. He said they were common. He said he didn’t want them. He said only a pure-bred cat was good enough to be ship’s cat on the Golden Doubloon.’ A tear trickled on to Bones’s whiskers. ‘Do you know what he did?’
Atticus shook his head. He put out a paw and wiped the tear away. He’d never seen a cat cry before. Poor Bones! Whatever it was, it must be something dreadful.
Atticus Claw Goes Ashore Page 7
