Starcatchers 01 - Peter and the Starcatchers

by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson

  “NO!” screamed Tubby Ted. “DON’T EAT ME! PLEASE!”

  That brought a grim smile to Fighting Prawn’s face. “Eat you?” he said. “We’re not going to eat you.”

  Peter exhaled, then froze as Fighting Prawn spoke again.

  “We’re going to feed you to Mister Grin.”

  CHAPTER 47

  A MAGIC ISLAND

  SLANK AND LITTLE RICHARD, having hidden their dory and the pirates’ longboat, set off along the beach. Slank was in the lead; Little Richard walked a few paces back, armed with a flintlock pistol, which he hoped would be effective against spiders.

  “Sir,” he asked, “where’re we going?”

  “Around that point there,” said Slank, gesturing ahead toward a rocky spit of land.

  “So we ain’t going into the jungle?” asked Little Richard, hopefully.

  “Not right here,” said Slank. “This is where Mr. Stache went in, and I don’t want us to run into him quite yet, not ’til we find what we’re looking for. We’ll go around that point, then we’ll move inland.”

  “Oh,” said Little Richard unhappily.

  Walking on the hard-packed sand at the water’s edge, they quickly reached the rocky point, a jumble of lava boulders. They worked their way through these until Slank, in the lead, peered over the top of a massive weathered rock and beheld a spectacular lagoon, its deep blue water shimmering and sparkling like diamonds in the late-afternoon sun.

  In the center of the lagoon’s curve a waterfall burst from one of two hillside caves and splashed down onto a cluster of gigantic boulders. Some yards offshore from these was a smaller grouping of smooth black rocks, like a miniature island. The nearest of the rocks rose to a flat spot, like the seat of a chair.

  Somebody, or something, was sitting in the chair.

  Slank blinked and strained to see it more clearly.

  “It can’t be,” he muttered.

  “What is it, Mr. Slank?” said Little Richard.

  “It’s a…woman,” said Slank. “But it’s got…”

  “A woman!” Little Richard, who liked women as much as he hated spiders, scrambled forward, inadvertently knocking Slank aside as he hauled himself up on the rock to see.

  “Sir?” he said. “I don’t see no woman.”

  Slank stuck his head back up: The rock was empty.

  “She was there,” he said, pointing. “She was right there.”

  Little Richard eyed Slank doubtfully.

  “I tell you I saw her!” said Slank. “She had golden hair. And…And a…”

  “A what, Mr. Slank?”

  “A tail,” Slank said. “Instead of legs, she had a long green tail.”

  “A tail?” said Little Richard. “This woman that isn’t there now had a tail?”

  “Yes,” said Slank.

  “So what you’re saying, sir,” said Little Richard, “is you saw a mermaid.”

  “I didn’t say that!” said Slank. “I said I saw a woman with…with a…”

  “…a tail,” said Little Richard.

  “Yes, a tail,” said Slank, although now he was starting to wonder himself.

  “All right, then,” said Little Richard gently. “Maybe what you need, sir, is a little rest.”

  “I saw her,” said Slank.

  “’Course you did, sir!” said Little Richard. “’Course you did. Now what you need is a nice sit-down in the shade there, and then…”

  “Look!” exclaimed Slank, gripping the big man’s forearm.

  Little Richard looked, and there, on the rock, dripping seawater, were two mermaids. One with golden hair, one with black hair, both breathtakingly beautiful.

  Little Richard tried to speak, but his throat clogged and his face turned red. Finally he spat it out: “TWO!”

  “I told you,” said Slank.

  “What kind of island is this?” said Little Richard, gazing wide-eyed at the mermaids. “It’s magical, it is.”

  “Yes,” said Slank, more to himself than to Little Richard. “There’s magic here, all right.” His hand went under his shirt and, for a moment, curled around the gold locket he wore there. Then he ducked behind the rock, grabbing Little Richard’s massive shoulder and pulling down on it.

  “Get down,” he hissed.

  Reluctantly, Little Richard tore his eyes from the fish-women and crouched next to Slank.

  “But they’re so beautiful, sir,” he said.

  “You’ll have a better view soon,” said Slank. “We’re going over there.”

  “We are?” said Little Richard, overjoyed.

  “We are,” said Slank. “But quietly. We’re not going to let them see us until we get nice and close, so they can’t swim off. Them creatures has what we’re after, and I aim to get it from them.”

  “But we ain’t gonna hurt them, sir?”

  “Only if we have to,” said Slank. “Only if they try to keep it.”

  CHAPTER 48

  THE LAW

  FOR A MOMENT, neither Alf nor the boys could speak; they stared at Fighting Prawn, faces frozen in dread.

  Peter broke the silence. “Please, sir,” he said. “Who is Mister Grin?” As he spoke, he again sensed something move inside the log structure. The earth beneath him seemed to shake—something was in there, something very big.

  “Mister Grin,” said Fighting Prawn, “is a native of Mollusk Island. For many years he was a peaceful neighbor to the Mollusk people: he went his way; we went ours. But then, some years ago, visitors came to our island—sailors—Englishmen, they were. Like you. They thought it would be good sport to hunt Mister Grin.”

  Something thrashed inside the enclosure; the walls shook. The boys cowered, scurrying back on their bottoms. Even Alf retreated a few feet.

  “We urged these men not to harm our old neighbor, but of course they did not listen to us. We are savages, don’t forget. The English are civilized.”

  Fighting Prawn smiled, not pleasantly.

  “They were good hunters, these Englishmen,” he said. “They captured Mister Grin—managed to snare him with grappling hooks, then drag him up the beach and tie him to a tree with ropes. Then they had their sport. They drank their rum and teased him, prodded and poked to see what he would do, used him for their amusement. We asked them to stop. But Englishmen do not care what savages think.

  “Finally, a young Mollusk boy could no longer bear to hear Mister Grin’s roars of pain. That night, when the drunken Englishmen had fallen asleep, the boy crept among them and tried to cut Mister Grin free. An Englishmen awoke and saw the boy. He shot him, in the leg. The boy fell, screaming. Some of our people saw what happened. The boy lay on the ground, bleeding, screaming. And the Englishmen did nothing. Mister Grin was only a few feet away. Mister Grin was so angry by then…”

  Fighting Prawn looked at the ground, then at the enclosure, and then back to Peter.

  “That boy was my son,” he said.

  “But, sir,” said Peter. “That wasn’t…”

  “We attacked the Englishmen then,” said Fighting Prawn, ignoring Peter. “They were surprised that we would do that, and even more surprised when we defeated them. In the end, they cried like babies, begged us for mercy. We told them they would have to ask Mister Grin for mercy. He showed them none.”

  Another movement from inside the logs.

  “We released Mister Grin then, because it was not his fault, none of it. But they’d ruined him, you see? Given him a taste for humans. Instead of returning to the jungle, he stayed near our village, watching us, smelling us, wanting us. Lurking, waiting. We had no choice but to capture and kill him.”

  “But he’s still alive,” Peter said.

  “Yes,” said Fighting Prawn. “As fate would have it, another ship arrived on the day we were to do it. So instead of destroying Mister Grin, we put him to work. Now it is our law, to keep the island ours. For Mollusks, not for outsiders.”

  “But, sir,” said Peter, “those were pirates! We’re on this island because pira
tes attacked us also. We feel the same way about them as you do.”

  “The lad is right.” Alf was speaking now. “We mean you no harm.”

  “Yes, you would say that,” said Fighting Prawn. “You visitors always say that, and sometimes you may even mean it. But we have learned that you visitors are always trouble, pirates or no. You have abused our hospitality, brought disease, taken us as slaves, killed us like animals….”

  “But that wasn’t us!” exclaimed Peter. “We didn’t do those things!”

  “You haven’t yet,” said Fighting Prawn. “And Mister Grin will see to it that you never will. That is our law.”

  He turned and grunted something. Instantly, two men appeared with a ladder of lashed bamboo. They leaned it against the log wall. From within, there came a low growl. Tubby Ted whimpered. Prentiss and Thomas clutched each other, sobbing. James gripped Peter’s arm.

  “But, sir!” It was Alf speaking now. “You can’t mean to…I mean, these are just boys!”

  “No exceptions,” said Fighting Prawn. “It’s the law.”

  He grunted something. Four men with spears approached Alf.

  “Wait! There’s a trunk!” said Peter, exchanging a quick glance with Alf. “It has powers…It’s…It’s magic, and we think it’s on this island! We could help you find it, sir, show you how to use the power!”

  Fighting Prawn shook his head in disgust.

  “Lying, now,” he said. “They all try that, too. Lying to the savages, as though we’re children, easily tricked. Here’s your magic.” He spat on the ground.

  “But the magic is real!” Alf said. “I seen it with me own eyes. What the boy says is true.”

  Fighting Prawn looked back and forth between Alf and Peter, and for a moment, Peter thought Alf might have convinced him. But then the old man grunted again to the four men, who prodded Alf roughly toward the ladder, forcing him to climb.

  “No!” said Alf, pointing to the logs. “I ain’t goin’ in there!”

  “Then these men will spear you and throw your body over the wall,” said Fighting Prawn. “Either way, you will go in there.”

  As he spoke, one of the men pressed a spear point against Alf’s chest. Alf winced as he felt the razor-sharp shell penetrate his shirt and prick his chest.

  “All right,” Alf said, “I’ll go without a fight. But only if it’s just me. Please. Not the boys. They’s just boys.”

  “Boys, yes,” said Fighting Prawn. “Just like my son.”

  Prodded from below, his legs now pricked and bleeding, Alf climbed to the top of the wall. He looked over the side, then back at Peter, his face white as a sail.

  “Alf?” said Peter.

  Alf started to speak, but before he could, he was shoved over the wall, and was gone.

  The boys were next. One by one, first Tubby Ted, then James, Prentiss, and Thomas, all sobbing, were driven at spear point up the ladder and over the wall.

  Peter was last. He climbed without prodding. At the top, he looked back down at Fighting Prawn and said, “This is wrong. We’ve done nothing.”

  “Yes, you have,” said Fighting Prawn. “You came to this island.” He paused, then added: “You’re a brave boy.” He looked once to sky and then back to Peter. “Perhaps Mister Grin will have mercy upon you.”

  Then he motioned to his men. But before they could act, Peter jumped over the wall to join his mates. And Mister Grin.

  CHAPTER 49

  INTO THE CAVE

  “QUIET!” SLANK HISSED.

  Slank and Little Richard struggled, sweating, through the darkening but still-hot jungle, staying out of sight as they followed the sweeping curve of the lagoon toward the dark mouth of the cave.

  From time to time they peered carefully through the vegetation at the two green-tailed she-fish. Each time, Little Richard stared, almost hypnotized by the creatures; the closer he got, the more beautiful they looked to him.

  In twenty minutes they had crept behind the trees to a spot directly up the beach from the rocks where the she-fish sprawled, unmoving, facing out to sea, apparently oblivious to the approach of the two men.

  “All right,” whispered Slank. “We want to get as close as we can, but not scare ’em. Understand?”

  “Yes,” said Little Richard, excited at the prospect of getting close, especially to the blond one.

  “All right, then,” said Slank. “Here goes.” He stepped out from the trees, followed by Little Richard. The two men walked down the beach until the gentle lagoon surf lapped at their boots. They were now perhaps twenty-five feet from the rock where the she-fish lay.

  “Hello there, ladies!” said Slank, cordially.

  The she-fish spun, their bodies now rigid. They stared at the two men with expressionless faces dominated by round, huge, sea-blue eyes.

  Beautiful eyes, thought Little Richard. But not human eyes.

  “My name is Slank,” said Slank. “I think you may have run into something I’m looking for.”

  The she-fish did not speak or move. For twenty seconds there was no sound but the low hiss of the surf.

  “We mean you no harm,” said Slank.

  As reassurance, Little Richard parted his lips in a broad smile. He had nine and a half teeth in all, the color of tree bark.

  The instant he opened his mouth, the already wide eyes of the she-fish became even wider. Before Slank could say another word, the creatures had flipped their tails, slithered off the rock, and slid into the lagoon.

  “Wait!” shouted Slank, but they were gone. The men’s eyes followed the long, graceful shapes, gliding underwater with astonishing speed to a dark opening in the jumble of ship-sized rocks nearby. The she-fish surfaced there, looked back for a moment at the men, then dove again, their bodies shooting into a dark opening between two massive boulders, and disappearing.

  “You IDJIT!” said Slank, turning and throwing a punch that landed on Little Richard’s massive trunk, having no effect other than to hurt Slank’s fist. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

  “Nothin’, I swear!” said Little Richard. “I just smiled at ’em, is all!”

  “Well, don’t do it again,” said Slank. “You scared ’em, and now we got to go in there after ’em.” He gestured at the dark opening in the rocks.

  “We do?” said Little Richard, who, in addition to spiders, did not care for the dark.

  “We do,” said Slank, wading into the lagoon toward the big rocks, with Little Richard reluctantly following. As the water reached his waist, Slank pulled the two pistols from his belt, holding them up to keep them dry.

  When they reached the cave opening, the water was up to Slank’s chest and Little Richard’s waist. The two men paused and looked into the cave. In the late dusk they could see only a short distance: on either side, water sloshed against smaller rocks; overhead was a high, sloping, cathedral-like ceiling, formed by massive rocks leaning together; ahead lay a yawning darkness.

  “I don’t like this,” said Little Richard.

  “I’ve seen you whip six men at once in a fight,” said Slank. “How can you be afraid of women?”

  “Those ain’t normal women,” said Little Richard. “And it’s dark.”

  “Just the same,” said Slank, holding his pistols high as he waded into the gloom, “we’re goin’ in.”

  They moved forward, the sound of their sloshing echoing back to them in the dark, cavernous space. Soon they were in deep gloom, barely able to make out the cave walls, no longer able to see beneath the surface of the water.

  “Hey!” shouted Little Richard, his voice booming off the walls.

  Slank spun, pistols leveled. “WHAT?” he shouted.

  “I felt something,” said Little Richard. “It touched me leg.”

  “It’s your mind playin’ tricks,” said Slank. “Stop bein’ such a baby.” But it was bothering him now, the darkness of the water.

  They pressed on, the cave entrance now almost out of sight, their eyes straining to pick up what little of the wan d
usk filtered in through openings in the boulders high overhead.

  What was that?

  Now it was Slank’s turn to think something had touched him. He kicked out his right leg, but struck nothing. But now he saw it: something was roiling the water around them.

  Little Richard saw it too.

  “They’re here,” said the big man, moving close.

  “Stand back to back,” said Slank. “Get your sword ready.”

  They moved together, each facing out. The roiling around them was getting more pronounced now. There was a splash, and the tip of a tail. And then several more, from different directions.

  There’s more than two, thought Slank.

  And then a woman’s head appeared, streaming hair, circling, a few yards away; then another head, and another, and another.

  A LOT more than two.

  “What’re they doing?” said Little Richard, behind Slank. “What do they want?”

  “I don’t know,” said Slank, trying to shake the thought: They led us in here. It’s a trap.

  Now, in the gloom, they could make out six, perhaps seven heads circling them, moving very fast, still a few yards away, but Slank saw now that the circle they spun was shrinking. Inch by inch, the she-fish were drawing closer, closer….

  Then they stopped.

  One of them—the men could see now it was the blond one that they had seen before—was directly in front of Little Richard, just out of his reach—not that he wanted to touch her.

  She looked into his face, her face without expression, blue eyes seeming to glow.

  Then she smiled.

  Little Richard gasped. The she-thing’s mouth was a horror: the top overcrowded with a jumble of jagged teeth, more shark than human; the bottom row was a hard, smooth, bony plate, still more fish than human.

  Little Richard raised his right arm, and with it, his sword; he meant the gesture purely defensively, but the instant he moved, another she-fish—Slank’s glimpse told him it was the black-haired one that had been outside—hissed and darted forward, snakelike, opening her own hideous mouth and clamping her needle-sharp teeth down on his right forearm.