‘And I’ll try to be a little more co-operative,’ she smiled.
‘Deal.’
Whisker still felt guilty about one small thing, and thought it was best he got it off his chest. ‘So err … after we get the map, Madam Pearl, were you thinking of going back to …’
‘Sea Shanty Island?’ she exclaimed. ‘Heavens no! Emmie told me some lunatic blew up my warehouse.’
She gave Whisker a wink and he began to relax.
‘The first thing I’m going to do,’ she said, ‘is fulfil my promise and help you win the Pirate Cup … hopefully in front of your family.’
Whisker’s tail sprang to life as a rush of hope spread through his body. Her words were more powerful than a boat load of treacle medicine. His eyes glazed over as he imagined the happy faces of his parents and sister the moment he held up the Trophy of Champions. Horace and Ruby stood beside him, each wearing gold medals. Horace blew kisses to the cheering crowd and Ruby was smiling … smiling at him …
Madam Pearl’s voice broke his daydream.
‘And following that,’ she said. ‘I’m going to visit a certain school for mice that might appreciate a few spare clocks and antique desks.’
Whisker managed a small laugh, but his mind still lingered on his vision. He hoped one day it would come true, all of it.
The storm clouds rolled out to sea and the moon rose over the Isle of Aladrya as the Apple Pie approached Shipwreck Sandbar. There were no fishing boats or smugglers’ vessels in sight. The only thing disturbing the calm surface of the ocean was the seaweed-covered wrecks protruding from the shallow water.
Pete used Eaton’s lantern to project a beam of light into the water in front of their ship, and Fred’s powerful eye scanned for wrecks beneath the surface. Ruby and Horace tinkered with the sails as the Captain slowly steered through the maze of obstacles.
Whisker waited with Madam Pearl and the mice at the stern of the boat. A rope ladder hung over the side of the deck and one of the crabs’ small rowboats drifted behind them in readiness.
The plan was to anchor near the largest wreck while Whisker led the small party to Whiteshore. They would cross the bridge to Abalilly, collect the map from Madam Pearl’s antique shop and return to the ship. The Apple Pie would remain anchored until the Claw-of-War blockade had disbanded the following evening, and then set sail to wherever the map led them.
Whisker felt apprehensive. The medicine had worn off, his tail twitched more than usual and he wasn’t looking forward to rowing with an aching shoulder. He rubbed his neck to loosen his tense muscles and realised his anchor pendant was missing.
Ruby’s cabin, he thought to himself.
Not wanting to be without his family heirloom on such an important mission, he mumbled an excuse to Madam Pearl and ducked below to get it.
Ruby’s cabin was dark, but the patch of moonlight streaming through the porthole window was enough for him to see the pendant lying next to a pink Pie Rat flag on the floor. He picked up the anchor, tied it around his neck and tucked it under his red coat.
As he turned to leave, he heard footsteps walking down the corridor. Suddenly feeling like he was trespassing, he darted from the room, colliding with a figure in the passageway. It was Ruby.
‘I … arr … was just getting something,’ he stuttered.
‘Something for your heroic mission?’ Ruby said in a patronising voice.
Whisker decided it was best not to answer and tried to push past her. Ruby took a step in front of him and blocked his path.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked angrily.
Whisker wasn’t about to be drawn into an argument.
‘I don’t have time for a debate,’ he replied. ‘I need to get to the boat.’
Ruby held her ground. ‘You’re not going anywhere until you answer me.’
‘Fine,’ he said impatiently. ‘I’m going because the Captain asked me to and because it’s our only chance of getting the map.’
‘Oh really?’ Ruby cried. ‘You think you’re the only one who can do this? You think you’re the Captain’s new favourite, do you?’
Whisker shook his head and tried to walk around her. Ruby stepped sideways and refused to let him pass. She was far from finished.
‘Here comes the new golden child with the golden ideas,’ she announced to the empty corridor. ‘Well, golden boy, if you’re so special, why don’t we make you a statue: Whisker the golden rat. We can mount it on the front of the ship to bring us all your golden luck. Who needs the Mer-Mouse anymore? Pull her down. No one would miss her. No one would even notice she was gone!’
‘That’s not true, Ruby. Everyone would miss you!’
‘What did you say?’ Ruby gasped.
‘Err, um …’ Whisker stammered, realising what he had just said. ‘Everyone would miss … the Mer-Mouse.’
Ruby prodded Whisker with a nail and hissed, ‘What has the Captain told you?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to …’
‘You lying little leech. You miserable maggot. You …’
Whisker didn’t speak. He just hung his head and looked at the floor. He could hear Ruby’s frantic breathing and guessed she was working herself up to another burst of insults. Insults he didn’t have to hear.
He was tired of it. It had to stop.
He had to end it.
He had to end it now.
‘You win,’ he muttered.
‘What?’ she said in surprise.
‘I give in,’ he said. ‘You win. That’s it. I’m tired of this game. I’m not playing anymore.’
‘But … but …’ Ruby pleaded. ‘That’s not how it works.’
Whisker wearily shook his head but kept staring at the floor. ‘What do you want from me, Ruby?’
‘What do I want from you?’ she repeated.
Whisker mustered all of his courage. ‘You heard me. Tell me what you want and then leave me alone. I’m not a cardboard cut-out you can use as target practice. So spit it out!’
Ruby was taken aback. But it didn’t take long for her to recover.
‘I … I’ll tell you what I want, Whisker. I want you to lose your temper and YELL at me, just once. Is that too much to ask of the golden child? I’ve given you plenty of opportunities.’
Whisker couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
‘Are you out of your mind, Ruby?’ he said in bewilderment. ‘Why would you want me to yell at you?’
‘BECAUSE …’ Ruby exploded. ‘Because then I can get really ANGRY with you … I’ll get so angry that I’ll tell you I’m jealous that you have a real family that loves you. I’ll get so angry that I’ll tell you I was scared you would steal my uncle away. I’ll get so angry that I’ll tell you I wanted you to suffer so you knew how it felt to be the odd one out … And by the time I finish being angry, I’ll have no more anger left. And then I can stop pretending I hate you … and I can tell you how I really feel … and we can be friends … like I always wanted …’
She stopped.
Whisker slowly looked up. Ruby had tears in her eyes; both eyes. She held her eye patch in her paw. She looked back at Whisker.
‘This is my mask,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve always worn it. I don’t take it off. It stops people from getting too close … It covers up my past.’
‘But your eye,’ Whisker gasped, staring at the perfect green eye that had been hidden by the patch. ‘It’s beautiful …’
‘Beautiful and blind,’ Ruby said, forcing a smile through her tears. ‘My family died of the plague and I went blind in this eye. If I can’t see my past, then I don’t have to think about it.’
There was a pause.
‘I’m sorry,’ Whisker said, fighting his own tears.
‘For what?’ Ruby sobbed. ‘None of this is your fault. I should be apologising to you. I’ve been such a conniving cat.’
‘I know,’ Whisker smiled. ‘But I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry for not yelli
ng at you sooner.’
Ruby laughed, and tried to stop herself from crying again.
She threw her arms around Whisker and hugged him tightly. Whisker hadn’t been hugged for a very long time and it felt good. It felt wonderful.
‘Go on,’ she said, finally releasing him. ‘Bring us back a map.’
Whisker straightened his hat and composed himself.
‘And Whisker …’ Ruby added as he turned to leave.
‘I know,’ he replied with a grin. ‘If I mention your eye patch to anyone you’ll feed me to a piranha or something.’
‘No. That’s not it,’ she laughed. ‘I was going to tell you that when you return, you’ll get your own scissor sword. It’s the Captain’s orders. I’ll have the green pair waiting for you.’
‘Thanks, Ruby,’ he said. ‘I might need some lessons, though. I haven’t progressed past sword sharpening.’
‘You’re in luck,’ she smiled. ‘I know a really good instructor …’
Ruby’s voice echoed up the stairwell as Whisker climbed onto the deck.
Out-of-towners
The small rowboat slipped away from the Apple Pie and began its journey towards the coastline.
From his position at the oars, Whisker watched as the dark shape of the Pie Rat ship slowly merged with the outline of the wreck. The shapes of the waving crew were soon no more than black dots among the silhouettes of broken masts and tangled ropes.
No one spoke. Whisker focused on the rhythm of his rowing strokes, Mr Tribble looked out for hidden obstacles and Madam Pearl stared dreamily at the moon.
With a slight headwind, the progress was slow, but eventually the shipwrecks disappeared from view and the white dunes of Aladrya guided them to shore.
As Whisker dragged the boat onto the sandy beach, a small crew of furry fishermen busily prepared their nets in the moonlight. None of the fishermen looked up from their work. It seemed they were accustomed to the comings and goings of smugglers from Shipwreck Sandbar.
Whisker followed Madam Pearl and Mr Tribble over the sand dunes, carrying all five of their fully-laden bags. Mr Tribble offered to carry one, but Madam Pearl said it wasn’t how posh out-of-towners behaved.
The village of Whiteshore was like every other quaint fishing village Whisker had visited. There were cute little shops, seafood cafés and white-fenced burrows. At two-thirty in the morning, the streets were deserted. It wasn’t until they reached the Sleepy Inn on the outskirts of Whiteshore that Whisker’s feeling of panic set in.
The Sleepy Inn overlooked the bridge of Whiteshore – the bridge connecting the quiet fishing village with the bustling port of Abalilly. On the opposite side of the bridge, holding flaming torches, stood an entire platoon of the Blue Claw.
‘Checkpoint,’ Madam Pearl whispered as the three companions paused outside the inn.
Whisker took a deep breath and tried to ignore his nerves. Mr Tribble let out a pained moan.
‘Listen here, trembling Tribble,’ Madam Pearl hissed. ‘You either pull yourself together or you can ask for an early check-in at the Sleepy Inn. Try explaining that to the children.’
‘No, no, I’m perfectly fine to continue,’ Mr Tribble replied, straightening the silver pen in his pocket. ‘I’ve done this before and I can do it again.’
‘Very well,’ Madam Pearl said. ‘Now take my arm and pretend you’re a gentlemen and not a nervous numbat.’
Shakily, Mr Tribble took her arm and the three travellers trudged across the bridge towards the awaiting throng of soldier crabs. Whisker hooked his tail around the smallest bag and hoped it would stay out of trouble.
A crab with a blue armband scuttled out to meet them.
‘Good evening, Sergeant,’ Madam Pearl said politely. ‘Has something happened?’
‘Routine inspections,’ the Sergeant answered. ‘Nothing to worry about. I will, however, need you to state your reason for visiting the port, and empty the contents of your bags.’
‘Certainly,’ Madam Pearl replied. ‘We’re on a shopping trip.’
‘It’s a bit early for shopping,’ the Sergeant said suspiciously as Whisker opened the bags for inspection.
Madam Pearl simply laughed. ‘You can never be too early for a bargain. Abalilly’s finest fashion shop, the Portside Boutique, is running its summer sale this week and I want to be at the front of the queue for Frocktastic Friday!’
‘Yes, yes, of course you do,’ the Sergeant said, relaxing slightly. ‘I think my wife shops at the Boutique from time to time. It’s really hard to find good fashion in crab sizes.’
Madam Pearl gave him a sympathetic smile and glanced down at the dozen or so crabs rummaging through their bags. The bags were filled entirely with clothing, make-up and one small coin purse, and the crabs found nothing of interest.
‘Alright, boys, that’s enough,’ the Sergeant ordered. ‘Put everything back and let these good folks past.’
As pairs of knickerbockers and silk ties were roughly stuffed back into bags, Whisker was glad the crabs hadn’t searched too hard and discovered the secret lining in the blue suitcase – the hiding spot awaiting the Forgotten Map.The sea of crabs parted and Whisker trotted after Madam Pearl and Mr Tribble into Port Abalilly.
Abalilly, like Sea Shanty Island, consisted of terraced shops and warehouses surrounding the dock. Madam Pearl insisted they stay away from the waterfront where the Blue Claw would be stationed. Instead, they wound their way through the back streets and deserted lanes towards her antique shop. Well aware of the dangers of dark alleys, Whisker kept a sharp eye on his surrounds.
‘We’re close,’ Madam Pearl whispered, approaching a line of rubbish bins on a secluded street corner. ‘The next lane leads to my street.’ She took a step into the lane but quickly darted back and pressed herself against the wall.
‘What is it?’ Whisker asked.
‘Blue Claw patrol,’ she panted.
Mr Tribble looked confused. ‘We got through a checkpoint. Can’t we get past a patrol?’
Madam Pearl pointed to her boot-polish-covered face. ‘The checkpoint didn’t have a sniffer hound.’
‘Oh … my,’ Mr Tribble gasped. ‘Boot polish does have a strong odour. We’ll have to go the long way around.’
Madam Pearl shook her head. ‘That will take us straight past the dock.’ She stole another glance around the corner. ‘They’re getting closer.’
Whisker looked around and noticed a drainpipe behind the rubbish bins. He followed it to the ground with his eyes.
‘What about the stormwater drains?’ he gasped.
Madam Pearl’s face darkened. ‘All pipes lead to the sewer and you don’t want to know what’s down there.’
Whisker looked back at the drainpipe and this time his eyes followed it upwards.
‘The roof!’ he exclaimed. ‘We can all climb.’
‘But what about the luggage?’ Mr Tribble muttered.
‘We only need one suitcase,’ Whisker answered. ‘And I can manage that with my tail.’
While Whisker stuffed all but the blue suitcase into the bins, Madam Pearl and Mr Tribble scrambled up the drainpipe to the tiled roof of the third floor. Whisker hooked his tail around the handle of the suitcase and clambered after them.
The suitcase only contained a few pairs of pyjamas and the small coin purse and it didn’t take long for Whisker to reach his companions on the roof. Cautiously, he leant over the edge and saw a hound in a blue cap and six soldier crabs marching down the centre of the lane.
‘Not so close,’ Mr Tribble whispered. ‘It’s a long way down.’
Whisker pulled himself back and turned to see Madam Pearl wiping brown boot polish from her white dress.
‘Follow the gutter and turn left at the end of the building,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ll catch up in a minute. My disguise is ruined.’
Whisker carefully edged along the tiles on four paws, dragging the suitcase behind him. He kept his head bent low, allowing his whiskers to guide him over the topsy
-turvy roofline. Halfway along, he peered over the gutter and saw the patrol leaving the lane below. Wondering how far he still had to go, he turned back to the roof and looked up.
A volcano of pure fear erupted in his chest. Directly in front of him, outlined by the moon-lit sky, was the crouching silhouette of Prowler.
Whisker’s mouth went dry. His tail went limp. The suitcase slipped from his tail. There was a loud crash in the laneway followed by the tinkle of coins.
But Prowler did not pounce.
Whisker stared, unable to move. Why doesn’t he attack?
As Whisker continued to stare, he realised why. Prowler was different. His belly was rounder, his ears were larger, his tail was shorter and he wasn’t wearing a Russian cap. He wasn’t Prowler at all. He was a hideous stone gargoyle with two stumpy horns and a protruding forked tongue.
Relief replaced Whisker’s fear – but only for a moment. Footsteps echoed from far below. Whisker looked down to see a dark figure with a long tail standing over the broken suitcase.
I’m done for, Whisker shuddered. He’ll raise the alarm.
More noises pierced the night air: The distant bark of a hound, the snapping of claws and the scuttle of legs.
Hastily, the dark figure dropped to his knees and scooped up the scattered coins. Seconds later, as the patrol entered the lane, the figure jumped to his feet and sprinted towards a dark rectangle at the base of a building. He reached down, heaved out a metal grate and disappeared headfirst into a hole.
Whisker moved closer to the cover of the stone gargoyle and watched as the hound neared the suitcase. He sniffed its contents before trotting over to the hole in the wall.
‘Who was it?’ panted an approaching crab.
‘Thieving sewer rat,’ the hound replied. ‘Same as usual. Nickin’ suitcases from ol’ ladies an’ bustin’ ‘em open if they’re locked. ‘e made off wit’ a purse o’ gold coins – minus a few ‘e dropped ‘round the lane.’
The crab shook his claws. ‘For the record, he got away with all the coins. Help yourself, men. Finders keepers!’
Whisker shuffled out of sight as the crabs searched for the remainder of the scattered coins.
The Forgotten Map Page 19
