by J. E. Fison
‘I do not have warts on my knees!’ Lachlan screams.
I duck as he flings a large purple thong at me.
‘Help me get this thing off,’ he calls. ‘I'm not going home looking like this.’
Lachlan goes into the cabin and tosses some books in the air, looking for something to remove the mask from his face.
Mimi finds the next best thing to a mask remover – a spoon. She carefully prises the mask off Lachlan's face. He screams as the old plastic finally comes away from his skin. Lachlan is left with red rings around his eyes. Mud is smudged across his cheeks. He looks almost as grotesque as he did with his mask on.
‘What are you staring at?!’ Lachlan shouts at me.
I'm saved from having to tell him. Ben discovers something even more interesting than two red rings around Lachlan's eyes.
‘I found a message!’ Ben shouts. ‘It's a message from the boat driver.’
‘It is not a message from the boat driver,’ Lachlan calls back. ‘Why would the boat driver leave us a message? He doesn't even know we're here.’
Or does he?
‘It says HELP ME,’ Ben says. ‘He must have known we'd come here looking for his money. He has been poisoned.’
‘Let me have a look at the note,’ I say, taking the stained old scrap of paper from Ben.
He's only just finished grade one. I don't totally trust his reading skills.
‘HELP ME,’ I repeat.
‘See I told you it said HELP ME,’ Ben says. ‘No one ever believes me.’
‘That's because you make up so many stories,’ I point out. ‘We never know which one is going to turn out to be true.’
‘It says HELP ME, but there's more,’ Mimi says, reading the message over my shoulder. ‘Look, there's more writing under that brown splodge.’
‘They've come …’ Mimi strains to read the message.
‘They've come to get …’ I continue, holding the note up to the light.
‘They've come to get what?’ Lachlan calls through his red-ring mask. Dry, smelly mangrove mud has formed a crust in his eyebrows and is sticking to his hair.
‘I don't know,’ I say. ‘The only other word I can read is ISLAND.’
‘Give it to me,’ Ben says snatching the message from me. ‘It's my message. I found it.’
Ben reads out loud. ‘HELP ME. They've come to get the money back. Mr Glass Eye is about to put washing-up liquid in my beer. If I don't drink it, he's going to flush my head down the toilet. After he's used it. Lots of love from your friendly boat driver. P.S. I left some chocolates in the cupboard. Help yourself.’
‘There is no way it says all that, Ben,’ I reply. I take a quick look in the cupboard for any signs of chocolate. A half-eaten mandarin falls on my foot.
Yuk.
That's not what I'm looking for. Why do I ever listen to Ben?
I take the message outside, hoping for the words to be revealed in the bright daylight. But the rain pounds on the paper and a gust of wind catches the note. Instead of the boat driver's message becoming clearer, it's ripped from my hands. It blows into the trees. Now we'll never find out what's happened to the boat driver.
I return to the cabin where the others are waiting for an answer as to the boat driver's whereabouts.
‘I lost the message,’ I mumble.
‘That's funny,’ Lachlan says. ‘I thought you said you “lost the message”. But only a complete wing nut would lose the message. Only someone as thick as a really thick custard slice would lose the message. Only someone with a brain like a really squishy chocolate pudding would lose the message.’
‘Be quiet. You're the Master of Disaster. You're as fruity as an extra fruity fruit cake. You're as silly as a jellyfish with three arms. You're as …’ I run out of insults.
‘You're as silly as Great Aunt Milly,’ Ben says. ‘And she wears her pants on her head when she does the gardening.’
I don't remember an Aunt Milly in the family. I can't recall anyone in our family who wears their pants on their head when they do the gardening. In fact the only person I've seen with their pants on their head is … Ben.
But it's certainly a good insult. I'll keep it in mind for another time.
‘The message blew out of my hands!’ I say. ‘There's nothing I can do about it. It's the boat driver's fault. He should have just phoned the police. Doesn't he own a mobile phone? Doesn't he use a laptop? Who is this guy?’
I look around the houseboat for the answer. A photo stuck to the wall catches my attention. A man wearing only a big smile, a long beard and an old pair of saggy white undies stares back at me.
Is that the face of a bank robber? Is it the face of a man who has choked on washing-up liquid? I doubt it.
‘I know that bloke,’ Lachlan says, snatching the photo from the wall. ‘And come to think of it, I know this houseboat as well. It's been anchored just up the river for about a thousand years. Up near Breakneck Island. This guy's a bit weird. I've seen him fishing in his undies. They hang halfway down to his knees and gape at the front. You don't want to look too closely.’
‘Oh that is so gross,’ I say. ‘Why would you want to fish in saggy old undies? You might get a hook stuck on your …
‘He's a hermit. Lives on his own,’ Lachlan interrupts. ‘Don't think he cares much about people.’
But there's a lot more to the boat driver than a bit of half-naked fishing. As we are just about to find out.
‘Ahhh. Ahhh. Ahhh!’ comes a shriek from the front of the houseboat. Ben stumbles backwards into a table, bounces off, still screaming, and bumps into Lachlan.
‘Snake monster. Snake monster. It's a snake monster!’ he shrieks. ‘There's a snake on the bed. It's twenty metres long. It has teeth like daggers. Eyes like fire. And it's got wings!’
Lachlan peeks into the front cabin to investigate.
‘It's just a carpet snake,’ he announces. ‘Stop panicking. It's not going to kill anyone.’
I check for myself. A carpet snake is coiled on a pile of blankets at the end of the bed (or bunk if you want to use the proper nautical name).
Doesn't the boat driver know teddy bears or fluffy dogs make perfectly good snuggly bedtime toys? Carpet snakes aren't cuddly at all. And that one is the least cuddly carpet snake you could ever meet. It has a fruit bat stuffed in its mouth!
Somersaulting sausage rolls! We've interrupted its breakfast.
A wing and a little furry head stick out of the snake's mouth. The other wing has already been swallowed. It's distorting the snake's body. The whole thing looks like a two-headed serpent from the deep.
What a way to go.
Then I spot something. It's even more impressive than a bat being slowly consumed by a carpet snake. Under the tangled mess of heads, wings, scales, fur and blankets is a cake tin.
There's no mistaking it.
It's round and silver, with flowers on the outside and, I can only guess, something very tasty on the inside.
My tummy gives a loud grumble.
I imagine a lovely home-made chocolate cake – all crusty on the top and squishy in the middle. I can even smell it. Then I remember the pancakes I almost had for breakfast. We left them in the kitchen so we could rescue Mimi's yacht. Now I'm starving.
If only the snake would move out of the way, I could check the cake tin for a midmorning snack. But how do you move a carpet snake and a semi-digested bat?
With great care no doubt.
‘Shoo,’ I say quietly, but firmly. ‘Off you go.’
The snake eats on – centimetre by centimetre the bat is disappearing into the snake's belly. The whole process could take hours. By the time the snake decides to move on I might have died of hunger.
‘Can you move the snake?’ I ask Lachlan. ‘I want to have a look in the cake tin.’
‘Come on, Jack. Scared of a little carpet snake,’ Lachlan teases. ‘Carpet snakes aren't poisonous. And it's got a bat wedged in its gob. It can't bite anyone.’
&nbs
p; I watch the snake's eyes watching me. Am I hungry enough to pull a cake tin out from under a snake?
‘I'm a school boy, not a snake charmer,’ I say.
‘Go on,’ Lachlan urges. ‘It's just a little snake.’
I take another look into the snake's eyes. I stretch my hand out slowly towards the cake tin. The snake doesn't take its eyes off me. But it doesn't move, either.
My whole arm is shaking. My fingers edge closer. My tummy rumbles at the thought of a freshly made cake. I am just centimetres from the prize, when the whole cabin echoes with a deafening noise.
‘HISSS!!!!’
‘It's going to kill me!’
I jerk my hand away. I fall backwards onto the floor. I'm expecting the snake to spit out its prey and lunge at my neck.
I scramble to my feet. I see the carpet snake right where I left him. Lachlan is bent over sobbing with laughter.
Somersaulting sausage rolls! I fall for it every time.
‘That's not funny, Lachlan,’ I shout. My heart is racing. My legs are shaking.
‘Funny. That's the funniest thing I've ever seen.’
Lachlan finally regains control of himself. He looks at the snake. He slips his hand quickly into the blankets and pulls out the cake tin.
The snake twitches at the interruption. Its eyes stare fiercely at Lachlan. If it could kill with those beady eyes, Lachlan would be dead by now.
But the bat is still lodged in its mouth. It can't bite anyone, no matter how annoying they are (and Lachlan is certainly one of the most annoying people you could meet).
Lachlan holds the tin out for me.
‘Here,’ he says. ‘Have a nice piece of cake to calm yourself down.’
I snatch the tin from him. This had better be the best cake ever, to make up for Lachlan's prank.
Inside the tin is the biggest disappointment since I lost the Spring Fair donut-eating competition and missed out on a trip to Dreamworld. I thought twenty-five donuts in three minutes would be a world record. But oh no. Brian Bigbelly, that greedy little oinker, ate thirty donuts in two minutes. It's no surprise that he vomited on the roller coaster. I'm just glad I wasn't underneath when that lot came up.
I look into the cake tin. There's no chocolate cake, no carrot cake, not even a half-fat healthy but boring blueberry muffin. There are no biscuits or brownies. There's not even a dry old cracker. There's just a pile of old papers.
What kind of person puts paper in his cake tin, then tucks it under a snake? Is he trying to be mean or does it just come naturally?
That boat driver is really annoying me now. First he makes me miss my pancakes. Then I almost kill myself saving Mimi's yacht from his stinky boat. Now he fools me with the old ‘papers in the cake tin under the snake’ trick.
Well, I've had enough. I'm not falling for any more of his tricks. I'm going home for breakfast.
‘There's nothing here for us. Just a bunch of old papers,’ I say. ‘Time to go home.’
Mimi inspects the greying documents. ‘They're not just any old papers. I bet there's really important stuff in here – stuff that could tell us who the boat driver is and why he needs help.’
‘Hey, look at this,’ Lachlan says, peering at a newspaper story stuck to the window.
‘Brothers battle over Breakneck Island,’ he says, reading the headline.
‘Colourful local millionaire James Forsyth-Snugglebottom is locked in a battle with his brother, land developer Ignatius Forsyth-Snugglebottom over ownership of Breakneck Island.
‘It says that James wants to keep the island as an animal refuge. His brother wants to develop a luxury resort. They both claim to own the island. And look, there's a picture of the boat driver … James Forsyth-Snugglebottom. He's got a koala on his shoulders,’ Lachlan says.
‘Is that wee running down his shirt?’ Ben asks, peering at the photograph.
I'd say there's no doubt that Boat Driver James Forsyth-Snugglebottom has got wee running down his shirt. But he's still smiling.
‘Who would smile while a koala pees on his shoulder?’ I ask.
‘Someone who really loves animals,’ Mimi replies. She pulls a document from the cake tin. ‘Someone who cares about conservation and knows that you can't just keep building on every spare piece of land. Animals need a place to live as well.’
Lachlan shoves two corks in his ears to block out Mimi's ‘important things about animal conservation’ lecture. He starts singing ‘I am a gummy bear’. He struts around the cabin like a rock star.
But Mimi doesn't let Lachlan's performance slow her down.
‘Did you know koalas used to live everywhere? Now they are running out of places to live. They get run over by cars. They get attacked by dogs. They even drown in people's swimming pools,’ Mimi says, as if Ben and I are the ones personally responsible. ‘And do you know why?’
‘Because they can't afford rubber rings,’ Ben offers.
‘No. Because people are cutting down their trees,’ Mimi responds. ‘There's nowhere for them to live. And when they live near people, they get killed.’
Her lecture looks like it could go on for some time. I take the cake tin from her. I continue the search for useful information.
‘Look. I've made a hat,’ Ben says, interrupting Mimi. He shows off a very unprofessional paper hat.
‘That's the worst hat I've ever seen,’ I say. ‘But I like the decorations. Where did you get the stamps?’
Lachlan drops his air guitar and looks at Ben.
‘What are you doing?’ Lachlan says. He snatches the hat off Ben. ‘That's an important document.’
Lachlan unfolds the creases that Ben has so carefully put into the paper. He flattens it out. A crest sits at the top of the letter and a stamp and signature sit at the bottom.
In between there is a mass of strange and incomprehensible syllables, masquerading as words. There are lots of therefores and henceforths and many other words that I've never seen before.
The words ‘Breakneck Island’ and ‘James Forsyth-Snugglebottom’ are highlighted in bold.
‘What does it mean?’ I ask.
‘Well, it's obvious,’ Lachlan says, peering at the words. ‘It means …’
Lachlan stares at the piece of paper, waiting for the meaning to jump out at him.
‘I think we've just found proof that James Forsyth-Snugglebottom is the owner of Breakneck Island,’ Mimi says.
Trust Professor Bigbrains to decipher the most complicated letter on earth. She really does have a brain the size of Uluru.
‘I knew that,’ Lachlan says. He folds up the document and sticks it into his boardshorts.
‘It's obvious to anyone who can read.’
‘If this letter proves that James Forsyth-Snugglebottom owns Breakneck Island, why is he fighting with his brother about it?’ I ask.
‘I have no idea,’ Mimi says. ‘I think we should ask James Forsyth-Snugglebottom that.’
‘But we don't know where he is,’ I point out.
Hazard River is a big place. He could be anywhere.
‘His message said ISLAND,’ Mimi reminds me. ‘I think Breakneck Island is a good place to start. We can take my dinghy.’
I'm feeling sick from spending an hour with my head in the cake tin. Mimi and Lachlan argue over the best way to get to Breakneck Island. I leave them to it. I need some fresh air. I climb up the stairs. A howling gale almost blows me off the side of the boat.
‘Ah, the wind in my hair … the rain on my face … the flooded bushland rushing past on the riverbank …’
Somersaulting sausage rolls! We're not stuck in the mangroves anymore!
‘We're moving!’
The tide has turned. It's not going out. It's coming back in. Water is rushing back into the river and we're going along for the ride. I reach for the wrecked steering wheel and try to control the boat. It lurches down the river. A bloated dead cow bobs aimlessly alongside us.
A victim of the floods.
Lachlan emer
ges from the cabin. Mimi and Ben are behind him.
‘Jack, what are you doing?’ Lachlan screams into the wind.
‘Just avoiding a dead cow,’ I report.
‘I'm not asking about the cow,’ Lachlan shouts. ‘Why are you driving the boat?’
He pushes me aside and grabs half a steering wheel.
‘Someone had to,’ I say. ‘It was driving on its own.’
‘It's done a pretty good job so far,’ Mimi says. ‘Isn't that Breakneck Island ahead of us?’
It is Breakneck Island and it looks like it's sinking. The river is washing around clumps of trees that used to be part of the island. The floodwater and incoming tide have turned them into mini-islands.
‘Look, there in the trees,’ Mimi says. She climbs onto the roof of the boat to get a better view. ‘There's a speedboat. It looks like someone is on the island.’
The speedboat is tied to a tree on one of the mini-islands. There's no sign of James Forsyth-Snugglebottom. But then, I'm not really expecting him to pop his head out and wave from that kind of boat. It's big and shiny. It doesn't look like the type of boat James Forsyth-Snugglebottom would drive.
But someone here drives that kind of boat.
‘We should look around,’ Mimi says. ‘Whoever owns that speedboat might know where James Forsyth-Snugglebottom is.’
‘They might know. Because they poisoned him with washing-up liquid,’ Ben says.
Until someone proves him wrong, Ben is sticking to his theory. We didn't find a million dollars in the boat, but maybe the snake swallowed it. Who can say for sure?
The things that we can say for sure are (in no particular order):
1. James Forsyth-Snugglebottom likes to fish in his undies.
2. James Forsyth-Snugglebottom lives on a houseboat.
3. He likes koalas.
4. He likes Breakneck Island the way it is.
5. His brother Ignatius wants to build a resort on Breakneck Island.
6. James Forsyth - Snugglebottom's houseboat ended up in the mangroves.
