Whisker stared down at a long red shape scribbled on the deck.
‘What in Ratbeard’s name is that?’ the Captain gasped.
‘It’s the red carpet,’ Emmie proudly replied.
‘We had some time to fill,’ Pete added dryly. ‘And we thought it would be fitting for our distinguished guest.’
‘Very well,’ the Captain mumbled, as Madam Pearl stepped onto the deck. ‘But for goodness’ sake, Pete, that ridiculous newspaper hat has got to go. Madam Pearl will think she’s been rescued by a children’s party boat.’
Horace began to protest, but the furious look the Captain gave him quickly changed his mind.
‘We’ve got a couple of wounded sailors for you to patch up,’ the Captain said to Pete as the Quartermaster tore up his hat.
‘Let me guess,’ Pete sniggered, ‘Horace and Whisker?’
The Captain nodded. ‘Minor burns and a small scratch from a spider crab. Nothing you can’t handle.’
Whisker stepped into the lantern light.
‘Oh my precious paws!’ Pete exclaimed. ‘You call that a scratch? He’s lost more blood than a vampire bat with a drooling problem!’
Whisker suddenly felt extremely faint.
‘I’ll prepare the operating room,’ Pete said. ‘Let’s just hope it’s not as bad as it looks. We don’t have enough wood to build a coffin.’
‘We can use the two little rowboats,’ Fred suggested innocently.
Whisker felt even worse.
‘No one’s going to die,’ the Captain said, patting Whisker on his good shoulder. ‘But bring those boats aboard all the same, Fred. I’m sure they’ll come in handy for something else.’
Fred climbed over the side of the ship and the Captain turned to Ruby.
‘Prepare to sail due north, my dear. I’m sure Eaton and Emmie will lend a paw if you need one. From what I’ve gathered, they’ve mastered the rigging like true buccaneers.’
Ruby nodded and the mice beamed with pride.
‘And now down to business,’ the Captain said. ‘It’s time I had a private word with our guest about a certain mutual friend of ours.’
‘Rat Bait, I presume,’ Madam Pearl said coldly. ‘I should have seen this coming. No one would rescue a wealthy weasel out of goodwill.’
‘We merely request something that is rightfully ours,’ the Captain said politely.
‘Everyone wants something,’ Madam Pearl sighed. ‘I’ve already granted two wishes tonight, a third can’t hurt.’
‘Two wishes?’ the Captain asked surprised.
‘Oh, haven’t you heard?’ Madam Pearl said dramatically. ‘Your crew will be competing in the next Pirate Cup, and the bill’s on me!’
The Captain glared at Horace, who looked equally as surprised.
‘We’ll talk about this later,’ he said, directing Madam Pearl towards the navigation room.
As Whisker and Horace trudged down the stairs to Pete’s makeshift operating theatre, Ruby whispered after them, ‘Hey Horace, the news gets better. Pearl promised to buy you a new skeleton key.’
‘That’s pie-tastic!’ Horace cheered.
Whisker waited for Ruby to say something to him. A speedy recovery, perhaps. Anything.
She didn’t.
For a moment, he felt a touch of sadness replace the pain in his shoulder. With his next step, the sadness was gone and the stinging pain was back.
In the light of four candles and two hanging lanterns, Whisker lay on his back, nervously awaiting Pete’s fiddly task of stitching up his claw wounds. Covered by an old bed sheet, the operating table was nothing more than the kitchen preparation bench.
Pete stood over him with a needle and thread in one paw and a brown bottle in the other. Whisker’s tail anxiously thudded against a leg of the table.
‘Drink this,’ Pete said impatiently.
‘What is it?’ Whisker asked.
‘Medicine,’ Pete replied.
Whisker sniffed the bottle. ‘It doesn’t smell like medicine, it smells like treacle.’
Pete frowned. ‘What’s wrong with treacle?’
‘It’s full of sugar,’ Whisker exclaimed.
‘So?’ Pete muttered. ‘Sugar gives you energy. And in your state, you need all the energy you can get.’
Whisker rolled his eyes. ‘Treacle’s got more sugar than Apple Fizz. And you know what that makes rats do.’
‘It’s not the sugar in Apple Fizz that sends rats troppo,’ Pete argued, ‘it’s the bubbles. And there are definitely no bubbles in this medicine.’
‘But it’s not medicine,’ Whisker protested. ‘It’s treacle.’
Pete stamped his pencil. ‘How would you know? You haven’t tried it!’
‘Fine,’ Whisker said. ‘I’ll prove it to you. If it smells like treacle and looks like treacle, it must be …’ he grabbed the bottle and swallowed the entire contents.
‘Ooogh,’ he cried. ‘That’s not treacle!’
‘I told you,’ Pete said smugly. ‘It’s medicine.’
‘Are you sure?’ Whisker gagged. ‘It tastes worse than one of Fred’s mouldy pies!’
‘The worse it tastes, the faster it works,’ Pete replied bluntly.
‘Since when?’ Whisker said doubtfully. ‘It tastes absolutely horrid and it hasn’t done a thing.’
Pete shook his head. ‘Can you feel that?’
‘Feel what?’
‘The needle passing through your skin?’
‘But you haven’t started operating yet,’ Whisker cried.
‘Yes I have,’ Pete grinned. ‘I started the moment you took a swig. You only needed a sip, mind you, but the whole bottle should keep you going for the next couple of days.’
Whisker glanced across at his shoulder. Pete was right. The ship’s doctor was busily stitching up his wounds and he didn’t feel a thing. In fact, he felt no pain in his body at all. Even his tail hung limply over the side of the table.
He tried wiggling his toes. He couldn’t feel them either.
‘Pete?’ he asked cautiously. ‘Am I going to be numb for days?’
‘Of course not,’ Pete groaned. ‘Don’t you know anything about Pie Rat medicine?’
‘No,’ Whisker squeaked.
‘The medicine works in two ways,’ Pete explained. ‘First it numbs your pain and then it gives you a healing rush of energy. So I’d strongly suggest you shut your trap and let me finish before your heart goes into overdrive.’
Feeling rather anxious about the whole ordeal, Whisker decided to follow Pete’s recommendation. He shut his mouth, closed his weary eyes and let the mysterious medicine do its job.
In less than a minute, he was asleep.
Whisker had no idea of how long the operation took. He only remembered the sound of Pete clearing his throat to wake him.
‘Ahem.’
Whisker slowly opened his eyes.
‘Is it over?’ he croaked.
Pete looked down at him. ‘I am happy to announce that the operation was a success. There is no permanent damage to your shoulder and you should regain full control of your arm in due course.’
Whisker tried to move. It was no use. His body was still paralysed.
‘What’s in that medicine, anyway?’ he asked groggily.
‘Mostly treacle,’ Pete replied, ‘and a few secret herbs an explorer brought back from a jungle somewhere … I’ll need to locate some more. You swallowed the last of my supply.’
With the sound of approaching footsteps, a strong smell of Salamander’s Burn Cream filled the air. Horace’s face suddenly appeared next to Pete’s.
‘How do you feel?’ Horace asked.
‘Numb,’ Whisker replied. ‘You?’
‘Like a piece of buttered toast.’
‘Delicious,’ Whisker said dreamily.
‘Are you hungry?’ Horace enquired. ‘Fred’s made supper.’
‘I’m a bit stuck right now,’ Whisker said. ‘Maybe you can wedge a piece of pie down my throat while I wai
t for my arms and legs to start working.’
‘Whisker drank the whole bottle,’ Pete explained.
‘Way to go, Whisker!’ Horace applauded. ‘You’re going to be the life of the party. That stuff’s better than Apple Fizz.’
‘Err … have you had some, too?’ Whisker asked.
‘Yeah, but that was a long time ago,’ Horace recalled. ‘I drank two bottles when I lost my paw and I’ve been buzzing ever since.’
‘Simple Simon, save us,’ Pete cried, clomping out of the room. ‘I can’t handle two of you.’
Horace continued to stare down at Whisker.
‘What?’ Whisker asked. ‘Has Pete stitched my ears together?’
‘No, you frozen fruit cake!’ Horace exclaimed. ‘Madam Pearl has agreed to give us the map. It’s hidden in Port Abalilly, as we suspected.’
‘Did she tell you?’ Whisker asked excitedly.
‘Not exactly,’ Horace replied. ‘I overheard her talking to the Captain when I walked past the navigation room. I didn’t hear everything, only the last bit when I pressed my ear against the door.’
‘You scoundrel, Horace!’
‘Me?’ Horace said with a cheeky grin. ‘That’s what ears are for.’
Whisker tried to shake his head. Nothing happened.
‘So how long until we reach Port Abalilly?’ he asked.
‘It’s about half a night’s voyage,’ Horace said. ‘We should arrive a few hours before dawn – if we don’t run into the Blue Claw.’
On the mention of the Blue Claw, Whisker suddenly remembered the piece of paper in his pocket.
‘Horace,’ he gasped. ‘Put your paw into my right pocket and pull out whatever’s in there.’
Hesitantly, Horace pulled out the crumpled note.
‘What’s this?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ Whisker said. ‘Perhaps you should read it.’
Horace unfolded the paper. His singed face contorted into a troubled frown as he read the message aloud.
Horace lowered the letter. ‘What day is it, Whisker?’
‘Thursday,’ Whisker replied. ‘I saw it written on Pete’s hat.’
Horace’s jaw dropped. ‘That means in less than an hour it will be …’
‘Friday,’ Whisker gulped, ‘… raid day.’
‘We’ll have to abort,’ Horace gasped. ‘Three dozen crabs on a prison island is one thing, but sneaking past the entire navy is madness, even for me.’
‘But we can’t abort,’ Whisker said desperately. ‘As soon as the guards discover Madam Pearl has escaped, they’ll send word to Port Abalilly and her shop will be swarming with soldiers.’
Horace looked stumped. ‘So what are we going to do?’
‘We need a third option,’ Whisker said boldly. ‘Talk to the Captain. Talk to Madam Pearl. Show them the letter. They’ll think of something.’
‘And if they don’t?’ Horace said.
Whisker felt a tingle at the bottom of his tail as a strange strength began flowing through his veins. He slowly sat up.
‘If they don’t, then I will, and no one’s going to stop me!’
Horace gave him a sideways glance. ‘Are you sure that’s not the medicine talking?’
Whisker didn’t have time to respond. The conversation was interrupted by a flurry of footsteps as Ruby burst into the room. She was puffing hard and looked extremely rattled.
‘Both of you … on the deck … now,’ she panted. ‘We have a problem.’
‘We know,’ Horace exclaimed. ‘Take a look at this letter.’
Ruby glanced down at the crumpled piece of paper and shook her head. ‘Not that problem, you naïve gnat! The problem is …’
BOOM! A terrifying sound rumbled in the distance.
‘Thunder?’ Whisker said puzzled.
Horace turned pale. ‘Not thunder – cannons. I’d know that sound anywhere … We’re under attack.’
‘From who?’ Whisker gasped, staggering to his feet in confusion. ‘The Blue Claw? Have they found us already?’
‘It’s worse than that!’ Ruby screamed as a second boom filled the air.
Whisker didn’t need any more clues. He knew there was only one thing worse than a fully armed Claw-of-War ship.
‘ALL PAWS ON DECK!’ the Captain bellowed, ‘THE CAT FISH ARE ON THE PROWL!’
Flaming Fur-balls
With wide eyes and a wild tail, Whisker bounded onto the deck.
A third boom filled the air, and a blazing meteor rose into the sky from the south-east. Flames writhed and twisted from the projectile, leaving burning embers in a fiery trail behind it. It grew larger and closer. Then all of a sudden the comet dropped from the sky and splashed into the ocean in a hiss of steam.
The Pie Rats breathed a collective sigh of relief – the Cat Fish and their flaming fur-balls were still out of range.
There was a flash of lightning from the distant storm and for a split second, the entire ocean lit up. Whisker saw the unmistakable shimmering silhouette of the Silver Sardine racing towards them.
‘We can’t out-run them!’ Pete yelled from the helm, as another flaming missile hurtled through the sky. ‘They’ll be upon us in minutes.’
The Captain frowned. ‘What are our chances in a broadside cannon fight, Horace?’
‘Slim at best,’ Horace mumbled. ‘Our pies are more for show than a deadly battle with an armour-plated fish factory. How did the feral felines find us anyway?’
‘I bet it was that dirty rotten Rat Bait,’ Pete yelled back.
‘There’s no time for guessing games,’ the Captain said quickly. ‘We’ll have to head west and hope we can reach Sea Shanty Island before the Cat Fish. There’s a north-easterly blowing and that should give us a good head start…’
‘We can’t,’ Whisker blurted out, wildly waving the letter above his head. ‘We’ll be sailing straight into a fleet of Claw-Of-War ships!’
‘What?’ the Captain cried, snatching the letter from Whisker. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?’
‘I only just remembered I had it,’ Whisker replied.
‘Never mind,’ the Captain said, trying to restrain his temper. ‘We’ll turn the Apple Pie around, sail through the Southern Passage and head for Freeforia. It may be the only safe haven we have while these cursed raids continue. We can lose the Cat Fish in the darkness if we hurry.’
‘Wh-what darkness,’ Mr Tribble stammered. ‘The moon will be up shortly and full moon was only a few nights ago. The whole ocean will be lit up.’
‘That may be the case,’ the Captain snapped, ‘but do you have a better suggestion?’
‘We could raise the white flag and surrender,’ Mr Tribble said tentatively.
‘Rotten pies to surrendering,’ Horace scoffed. ‘I say we ask Whisker, he always has an answer.’
A fifth flaming fur-ball hurtled towards them. It landed much closer to the ship, but transformed into a harmless soggy mess the moment it hit the water. As Whisker watched it disappear beneath the waves the simplest of answers came to him.
‘Flaming fur-balls are no match for water,’ he said excitedly, ‘or for pelting rain drops.’ He turned to the storm. ‘We can reach it … if we change course.’
There was a murmur of curious interest from the crew. The Captain had his doubts. ‘Unfortunately, Whisker, your proposal would involve sailing directly into the wind.’
More lightning lit up the sky.
‘They’re getting closer,’ Pete shouted from the wheel. ‘I need a decision soon, Captain, or we’ll be burnt bread sticks!’
Whisker knew the Captain was right, they couldn’t sail directly into the wind, but they could still reach the storm and escape.
‘We’ll tack!’ he cried. ‘We’ll sail south-east and then change course once we’re inside the storm.’
‘But that would mean heading straight for the Cat Fish,’ Mr Tribble said in horror, ‘and hoping we cross their path before they ram into us.’
‘Tha
t’s true,’ Whisker agreed, ‘but where’s the safest place to be during a sea battle?’
‘On land,’ Mr Tribble moaned.
‘No!’ Horace cried, ‘In front of the enemy’s bow. Where there are no cannons.’
A sixth flaming fur-ball splashed into the ocean only metres from the Apple Pie, sending a wave of steamy saltwater onto the deck.
‘That’s the last warning shot,’ Pete screeched in panic. ‘With the next shot, we’re done for! What’s it to be?’
The Captain looked across at Whisker. Whisker knew it wasn’t his decision, but he couldn’t stop the tip of his tail pointing directly into the storm.
‘SOUTH-EAST, QUARTERMASTER,’ the Captain bellowed.
‘Aye aye, Captain,’ Pete screeched.
Once the decision was made, there was no going back. Pete spun the wheel to his right and the Apple Pie turned abruptly. It was not a moment too soon. An instant later, the Silver Sardine’s cannons exploded in unison and four flaming fur-balls splashed into the very spot the ship had been headed.
The Captain clambered up to the helm, took the wheel from Pete and began barking orders: ‘Madam Pearl, get the children into the navigation room at once. Find me a map of the Aladryan coastline and locate a suitable place to anchor. Fred and Tribble, fill up a crab boat with anything heavy and prepare to push it overboard once we’ve crossed their path. Horace, Pete and Smudge, report to the gun deck. Any pies you don’t shoot, I want dumped behind us. The more obstacles in the water, the better. Ruby and Whisker, you’re responsible for the sails. All clear?’
The crew cheered a frantic, ‘Aye aye, Captain,’ and ran to their stations.
Whisker glanced across at Ruby on the opposite side of the foremast. She finished tying a lanyard and looked up at him with a stern look of determination.
‘Secure?’ she called out.
‘Secure,’ he replied, giving his line a sharp tug.
The boom of cannons once more filled the air.
‘WHISKER!’ the Captain yelled.
Whisker instinctively bent down to make sure he hadn’t tied his tail to the rigging and felt a burning sensation pass over him.
He threw himself to the deck as a fresh wave of flaming fur-balls hurtled past, splashing into the water on the opposite side of the ship.
The Forgotten Map Page 17
