The Ruby of Carminel

by Roger Mortimer

  ‘Princess Tamina! Stop it! It’s me, Roamer!’

  The tamarin stopped trying to kill him and stared wide-eyed. ‘Roamer! It’s so dark I didn’t recognise you. I thought you were one of the pirates! I hope I didn’t hurt you too much.’

  ‘No, but save your claws for the sea-rats. Now, the cutter’s waiting, so if you and these youngsters are quite ready...?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Tamina with a smile. ‘This cabin’s disgusting; not at all what I’m used to.’

  She pulled out her dagger, returning it to its hiding-place in her left boot. Then, shooing the children in front of her, Tamina followed the buccaneers. Silently, they clambered to the fore-castle and onto the beak-head. Breathless with excitement, the little tamarins swarmed down the chain into the cutter. At last, only Roamer, Ben and the princess were left.

  ‘Pass up that gunpowder keg!’ called Roamer softly. ‘Now, Ben, you know what to do.’

  ‘Aye aye, zur!’ Clutching the keg, and chuckling softly to himself, the old sea-mouse descended the ladder. ‘What’s he going to do?’ asked Tamina.

  ‘Blow up the ship. But there should be time for us to get clear first.’

  The racket from the stern cabin was deafening as the party reached its height. Roamer was imagining Ben groping like a mole to the lowest deck, wedging the keg among the creaking timbers, laying the trail of gunpowder... A faint glow shone through the darkness followed by a distant sizzling. Minutes later, Ben’s snout popped out of the hatch.

  ‘All done, zur; ’er should blow in about ... oh, let’s see now ... four or five minutes.’

  ‘Good work, Ben,’ said Roamer. ‘I remember the last pirate ship you blew up. That time, it was more like three minutes. We only just had time to … Something the matter, Princess?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Tamina, her voice shaking slightly. ‘But perhaps we could talk in the cutter rather than on top of a barrel of gunpowder?’

  With Roamer at the tiller, the cutter swung away from the doomed ship. As they rounded the stern, where three great lanterns burned above the brightly-lit cabin, Roamer drew his double-barrelled pistol and fired a bullet through the windows.

  Shocked silence; then uproar! Windows flew open, sea-rats poked out their heads, all shouting at once. Roamer bellowed: ‘This is Captain Roamer of the Avenger! You have about two minutes to abandon ship before she’s blown out of the water!’

  A hulking rat in a gaudy uniform thrust his snout through the window. ‘You’re the ones what are going to get blown up!’ he yelled, and fired at the cutter.

  ‘That’s the captain,’ muttered Tamina. Snatching Ben’s pistol, she clawed back the hammer and fired.

  ‘You’m missed him, Princess,’ said Ben.

  Tamina smiled grimly. ‘He’s dead.’

  For a moment longer, the pirate captain stood motionless; then, he toppled into the water. ‘He insulted me,’ said Tamina, as the buccaneers cheered, ‘and frightened the children half to death. I warned him what I’d do if ever I had the chance.’

  Though most of the pirates were leaping for their lives into the sea, some were still firing. Ben, who was staring with admiration at Tamina, suddenly fell with a squeal of pain, a bullet through his leg. Instantly, the princess knelt beside him, ripping her shirt to make a rough bandage while the other sea-mice fired back.

  Suddenly, a streak of fire leapt from the Vulture’s bows. A moment later, there came a deafening roar, smoke and flames billowed from the fore-castle, and, as more terrified rats hurled themselves into the sea, the whole ship lurched forward. The sea-mice cheered as the masts groaned and toppled and the stern rose into the air. For a moment, the ship hung motionless before plunging beneath the waves.

  The sound of the explosion was still echoing across the water when lights sprang up in Malatesta’s fleet and hundreds of voices started yelling at once. ‘Time to go,’ said Roamer. ‘Hoist the sail!’

  The cutter leapt forward, and Roamer steered boldly for a gap between two warships, laughing at the angry shouts that followed the cutter’s impudent dash. ‘They won’t fire! They’ll only hit each other!’

  From the deck of the Night Crow, Malatesta was screaming with fury. ‘Up anchor, you miserable cowards! Sink that accursed sail-boat!’ But by the time the anchor was free, Roamer was almost clear of the harbour, heading for the welcome sight of the Avenger and her wildly cheering crew.

  ‘What now, skipper?’ asked Lukas. The children were safely stowed away below decks, and Tamina was putting a clean bandage on Ben’s wound. ‘Back to the harbour and do some more damage?’

  Roamer was tempted, but ... ‘Not safe for the youngsters. Only needs one unlucky shot to hit us. Make sail! We’ll return these tamarins to Coriander, then it’s home to Aramon. We must warn King Caladon that Malatesta’s on his way.’

  The following evening, as the setting sun turned the sea to gold, the Avenger dropped anchor in Coriander Bay. Roamer and four of the crew rowed the children ashore. The little tamarins squealed with delight as their parents rushed to meet them and Chief Tia-roa hugged his daughter and wept for joy. But his happiness was to be short-lived.

  ‘Now, father, don’t get carried away. Roamer’s sailing for Aramon, and I’m going too.’

  ‘Oh no you’re not!’ said Roamer. He had been half-expecting this.

  ‘Oh yes I am! I can shoot straight, and I’m a good nurse. What’s more, the crew would like me to come.’

  Roamer didn’t believe it. But his mice were nodding and grinning at the princess. He scowled at her. ‘What have you been saying to them?’

  Tamina lowered her eyes. ‘Is it my fault I’m popular?’

  Spoilt, more like, thought Roamer grimly. But he had to admit that she had shown courage during the rescue and that Ben owed his leg, and possibly his life, to her prompt and skilful doctoring. Chief Tia-roa gave a rueful shrug as if to say: ‘What’s the use? She’ll get her own way whether we like it or not!’

  ‘Oh, very well,’ sighed Roamer. ‘But if I – ’

  ‘Captain!’ From the Avenger, Cheesemite’s voice came floating across the water. ‘Enemy fleet in sight!’

  4. Night Attack

  If Roamer hoped that Tamina might be put off by the prospect of battle, he was much mistaken. Once aboard the ship, the Princess disappeared below decks, to return minutes later dressed in sailor’s shirt and breeches, a cutlass at her side and two pistols in her belt. Below her broad-brimmed hat, her long mane spread in a golden wave. The buccaneers gave her a cheer, convinced she would bring them good luck, and Tamina beamed with pleasure at all the attention she was getting.

  As darkness engulfed the island, Avenger slipped out of the bay, sailing swiftly in pursuit of Malatesta’s black-sailed fleet. For an hour or more, she skimmed over the starlit ocean until Cheesemite called from the crow’s-nest: ‘Deck, there! Strange sail ahead, going slow! Rest of the fleet’s way ahead!’

  ‘This straggler might’ve sprung a leak,’ said Roamer.

  Or it may be a trap, thought Lukas. But Roamer shouted: ‘Clear for action! Put out the lanterns! Princess, go below and wait for the wounded – and don’t argue! Lukas, tell the lower deck gun-crews to load with double shot. Guns on the main deck to load with chainshot; that should bring their masts down if it comes to a fight!’ Roamer’s well-trained crew leapt to obey and within minutes, Avenger was ready for battle.

  Roamer was watching the enemy ship. ‘She’s not showing any lights, not even a stern-lantern. Lay us on a parallel course, Lukas. We’ll keep our distance and let them fire first.’

  Tensely, silently, the crew waited. Avenger drew closer. At Roamer’s command, mice at the yard-arms smartly furled the topsails, until their ship was moving as slowly as the other. Leaning over the port-side rail, Roamer stared through his telescope. ‘No sign of life. Can’t even see anyone at the wheel...’

  ‘Skipper! Look out!’

  The enemy’s gunports had flown open. A second later, all her cannons roar
ed at once in a deafening broadside and smoke billowed as high as the mast-head. But Avenger was barely in range. One or two shots struck her side, the rest fell short. Roamer laughed.

  ‘He’s fired too soon! Shake out the sails! Steer for their bows! Port-side gun-crews, stand by!’

  Avenger tore down upon the other ship, and as the two vessels drew together like an arrowhead, Roamer yelled: ‘Fire!’

  With a thunderous roar, Avenger’s guns hurled their deadly cargo across the narrow strip of water. The enemy ship reeled as double shots hammered her hull and, as chainshot screamed through her rigging, the foremast toppled, bringing down black sails like shrouds.

  ‘Well done, lads!’ cried Roamer. ‘Hold your course, Lukas! Straight for her bows!’

  The crew’s cheering died away. Avenger was drawing perilously close, the long bowsprit with its single sail pointing from her bows like a spear at the enemy ship.

  ‘Skipper…’

  ‘Hold your course,’ said Roamer calmly. ‘Our broadside must have done some damage, or they’d have fired by now. If they force a crash, we’ll board them. But they won’t. There! What did I tell you!’

  At the last second, the sea-rat captain’s nerve had broken. With black sails trailing over the side, his ship swung clumsily away. ‘Take in mainsails!’ yelled Roamer. ‘Now, swing her to port! We’ll cross behind and rake her from end to end!’

  Lukas spun the wheel, turning the ship until her bows were pointing at the enemy’s stern. The sea-rats fired a ragged broadside. Too late! A few shots screamed through Avenger’s rigging; the rest flew harmlessly past to splash into the sea.

  ‘Starboard gun-crews, your turn!’ yelled Roamer. ‘Fire as we cross her!’

  As she sailed behind the enemy ship, Avenger’s guns erupted in smoke and flame. Lukas imagined the terrible destruction as cannon-balls smashed through the stern and flew the whole length of the ship.

  The last gun roared, and Roamer brought Avenger round on a course parallel with the enemy, this time with those black sails to starboard. ‘Reload!’ yelled Roamer, but already his gunners were ramming in powder and shot, fearful of the broadside that must surely come.

  But the other ship remained silent. ‘That attack on her stern finished her,’ said Roamer. ‘Look! She’s settling in the water! She’s keeling over!’

  High in the crow’s-nest, Cheesemite had been so absorbed in the battle that he had not noticed that danger was rapidly approaching. Fortunately, Princess Tamina, bored with waiting below, chose that moment to appear on deck, determined to join in the excitement. She was heading for the quarterdeck, when a movement out at sea caught her eye. ‘Look out! Another of those black-sailed beasts! Attacking from the left! I mean port!’

  The ship looked enormous. The big creamy bow-wave, just visible in the starlight, and the tower of billowing black sail showed how swiftly she was approaching. ‘Time to go, Skipper?’ asked Lukas nervously.

  ‘Steady, Lukas, there’s plenty of time. Thank you. Princess. Now get below, if you please!’

  Tamina drew breath to argue; but such was Roamer’s authority that for once she meekly obeyed. Besides, this new ship would be a tough enemy. There might well be wounded sea-mice for her to look after.

  If Tamina was worried, the buccaneers were aghast; the massive ship bearing down on them seemed to fill the ocean. But Roamer was carefully gauging its speed. ‘Port-side guns, fire!’ Instantly, Avenger’s guns roared. The big ship was close enough for the buccaneers to see gaping holes appear in her sails and a mass of splinters fly from her bows.

  ‘Stand by aloft!’ snapped Roamer. ‘Set all sails... wait for it... Now!’

  Sails thundered down, billowed in the wind. Avenger leapt clear and Cheesemite squealed: ‘Cor, look at that!’

  Until her sudden movement, Avenger had been hiding the half-sunk ship from the new, swiftly-moving enemy. Now the other captain saw it: a floating wreck lying directly across his bows.

  Lukas imagined the panic, saw the great ship frantically trying to swing clear of the danger. But it was too late. With a rending crash, the oncoming ship ploughed into the wreck, so violently that her foremast was torn from its base and the buccaneers cheered as the mainmast collapsed as well.

  ‘Two down, ten to go!’ shouted Roamer. His mice cheered themselves hoarse. Not one of them doubted that their Captain could take on the whole of that sinister fleet and destroy them all.

  ‘Deck, there!’ cried Cheesemite. ‘Enemy fleet’s turning back!’

  ‘They’ll be picking up survivors,’ said Roamer. ‘A pity there wasn’t time for us to do that; we might have learned something about Malatesta’s plans. Now, we must overtake his ships, sail fast to Ararnon and warn the King. Lukas, tell the cook to serve hot food to the crew – and a double ration of rum! I’m going to my cabin to look at the chart.’

  But before Roamer could leave the quarterdeck, a stout sea-mouse called Rio, the ship’s carpenter, came panting up from below. ‘Capitano! You ain’t gonna like this, but Rio, he gotta tell you. That devil-ship, he done us some damage.’

  ‘How bad is it?’ asked Roamer calmly.

  Rio spread his paws wide. ‘Beeg hole, slap on the bows! Is above waterline, but only just. The worst place if you wanna chase them devils!’

  ‘So every time the ship dips into a trough – ’

  ‘We ships many water! I already patch de hole with sail-cloth, but that no stoppa the water, she still seep in, ya know? We gotta the pumps a-goin’, so we no sink. But you wanna Rio to repair it, we need to keep the ship still. For much hours. Then we gotta slap on pitch an’ tar, then – ’

  ‘So much for a fast voyage to Carminel!’ exclaimed Lukas bitterly. ‘We’ll have to creep along like an old tub.’

  ‘Rio, do the best you can,’ said Roamer. ‘Lukas, take in sail. Keep the ship in darkness. We’ll steer north-east and hold that course for an hour; we must keep clear of the enemy. After that, I’ll lay a course for Carminel. We’ll not be able to overtake Malatesta’s fleet, and until that hole’s patched we can’t fight them. We’ll just have to shadow them. But when they attack Aramon, then we must fight them, leak or no leak.’

  5. Malatesta Strikes

  The first day of the great Aramon Market dawned bright and clear. Beneath shady trees in the Great Cathedral Square, where brightly-coloured awnings fluttered in the breeze, dozens of traders were crying their wares. Country-mice from the outlying farms were busily slicing rounds of cheese, setting out jugs of buttermilk and offering pats of butter wrapped in dock leaves. From the High Collada Mountains, the Kingdom of the Eagles, came beavers, their huge front teeth set in a permanent, good-natured grin. They were selling fat salmon and slithery eels, packed in ice that was already melting in the autumn sunshine. It was a cheerful, bustling scene, with no hint of the terrors to come.

  Old Cardinal Matthias moved slowly through the busy crowds. Mice doffed their caps to him and their wives dropped curtsies. Not just because he was Chief Priest of the Lord of Light; all Aramon loved the grey-furred cardinal for his goodness, and his kindness to the city’s poor. Mother Bibo, his cook-housekeeper, followed him through the market, peering short-sightedly through her spectacles, her basket in one paw, her purse in the other.

  As usual, a crowd of children crowded round the kindly cardinal. Most were homeless orphans who lived on the streets, but their leader was a chubby little mouse called Cranberry, whose father owned the famous ‘King’s Head’ tavern in Vittles Lane. ‘Look, your holiness!’ he squeaked. ‘Salmon!’

  Cardinal Matthias’ eyes sparkled. ‘Now, that is a treat! Mother Bibo, would you kindly purchase one – no, let’s enjoy ourselves – two fat salmon!’

  Mother Bibo smiled to herself as she counted out the pennies. The cardinal ate little, his usual dinner consisting of a dish of lentils and a morsel of dry bread. But once a year, at market time, with so much delicious food on sale, old Matthias liked to treat not only himself, but also his cook and the many po
or orphans who came to his house for meals and were never turned away.

  While Mother Bibo added the salmon to the Valladale cheese and Barrowdown butter already in her basket, the cardinal spoke quietly to Casey, the chief beaver. ‘What news from the mountains?’

  ‘Why, ever’thing’s just fine an’ dandy, Cardinal,’ said Casey in his broad mountain accent. ‘Young Aquila the eagle, Hyperion’s son, y’know, he’s almost fully grown.’

  ‘And my old friend, Marengo?’

  Lord Marengo was chief of the hardy tribe of mice who had lived with the eagles in the High Collada Mountains since the days of Gideon, the great Eagle Warrior. ‘He’s just fine,’ said Casey. ‘Not so young as he used to be; in fact, he’s gettin’ kinda old. But his eye’s bright as ever, and he can still use a sword an’ shoot a pistol like a young warrior.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it. One of these days, we may have need of him and his eagles.’ The cardinal was thinking of the young King Caladon. Not yet fully grown, he would make a fine king one day, if only...

  Casey guessed what the cardinal was thinking. ‘Is Duke Flambeau still keepin’ young Caladon down?’

  Flambeau! The king’s vain, ambitious uncle – the Red Duke of Aramon! The cardinal sank his voice to a whisper. ‘I fear that he is. The Lord of Light knows, I try to see the good in all mice; but there is little good in that over-mighty duke.’

  From the Night Crow, out in the bay, Malatesta was studying the harbour through his telescope. Beyond the cluster of ships moored at the quayside, the waterfront seemed almost deserted. There were no defences; even the battlements of the Great Fortress, high on its rock away to the right, were bare of guns. Malatesta shut his telescope. ‘Soft as a plum,’ he murmured. He raised his paw, the spike flashed in the sunlight and as the signal-gun banged out, two of his ships weighed anchor and sailed slowly into the harbour.

  With a roar of cannon-fire, Malatesta’s ships blasted the little waterfront houses to matchwood. In Cathedral Square, there was a moment of stunned silence; then, as another roar echoed across the city, the crowd dissolved in panic. Yelling and screaming, they tried to get out of the square, but the lanes were so narrow that they were soon jammed with squealing mice.