by Emily Rodda
Also by Emily Rodda in the
Monty’s Island series
Scary Mary and the Stripe Spell
Beady Bold and the Yum-Yams
First published by Allen & Unwin in 2021
Copyright © Text, Emily Rodda 2021
Copyright © Illustrations, Lucinda Gifford 2021
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.
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ISBN 978 1 76087 699 9
eISBN 978 1 76106 093 9
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Cover & text design by Joanna Hunt
Cover illustrations by Lucinda Gifford
Set by Joanna Hunt
www.emilyrodda.com
www.lucindagifford.com
Somewhere far away, there’s a sea that ripples with magic. And if you were a bird flying high over that sea one fine day, you’d be able to look down at the tiny green-and-gold dot that’s Monty’s Island. . .
1. After the Storm
2. What Next?
3. The Stranger
4. Big Trouble
5. ‘Run for Your Lives!’
6. The High Cupboard
7. The Book
8. Ranger Katz
9. Magic
10. Saving Ickle
11. What to Do?
12. Escape Plan
13. Monty’s Trick
14. Into the Jungle
15. A Strange Picnic
16. Bird’s Eye View
17. Fee Fi Fo Fum!
18. Clever Ickle
19. All Grown Up
20. Happy Day
Monty and Tawny the Fearless Lion are both yawning as they plod along the beach, heading for breakfast at the Island Cafe.
There was a huge storm in the night. Thunder crashed. Rain pelted down. Giant waves pounded the shore, moving the sand around. Now the storm’s moved on, but the sun’s hidden behind grey clouds, so everything is still very wet.
The big waves have left lots of things behind them on the sand, and Monty’s Pickup Sled is piled high. He’s found plenty of driftwood for the Cafe stove. He’s also found a rusty saw, a big plastic cone, a canoe paddle, a useful wooden box and a fine broad-brimmed hat.
A huge fishing net clogged with seaweed is piled on the Sled as well. It’ll make a great sun shelter for the Islanders on hot afternoons. Usually, washed-up hats and fishing nets are chewed to pieces by Jinglebees before Monty can get to them, but this morning the Jinglebees are sleeping in.
Monty’s pleased with his Finds, but he wishes he was still in bed, too. He and Tawny were safe from the storm in their little grass hut, but there was too much noise for sleep.
First, there was the thunder. Then, in the jungle, there were the angry roars of the Island’s monster, the Hairy Horrible. The Horrible hunts at night, but it hates wet feet even more than it hates sand between its toes.
And as if those things weren’t bad enough, the two Argue Birds that live on the roof of the hut had started one of their loud quarrels.
I’M WET, I’M WET, I’M WET! the bossy one kept squawking.
I’m wetter, I’m wetter, I’m wetter, the quiet one would trill back.
I’M WET, I’M WET, I’M WET, I’M WET!
I’m wetter, I’m wetter, I’m wetter, I’m wetter . . .
The fight went on and on. Thinking about it now, Monty feels tireder than ever. ‘The umbrella I put over the Argue Birds didn’t help,’ he says to Tawny. ‘It does have a few holes in it, but it’s the only one I have.’
‘Puh!’ says Tawny. If he had his way, the Argue Birds would have more than a leaky umbrella to worry about.
‘Never mind,’ says Monty, nodding at the wooden box on the Sled. ‘I’ve got a plan. That box is plenty big enough for two. It’s got a lid to keep off the rain, and holes in the sides for fresh air. I’m going to cut a doorway at one end and put the box in a tree. Then maybe the Argue Birds will go and live in it, instead of on our roof.’
Tawny’s just about to say ‘Puh!’ again, because he doesn’t think the Argue Birds will do any such thing, when he sees something very surprising floating at the water’s edge.
Shining in the middle of a clump of seaweed is a huge golden egg.
Tawny stops and stares. Monty turns to find out why, and sees the golden egg. He jams on the Sled brake and runs to the water’s edge. In no time he’s back, the egg cradled in his hands.
‘I’ve never seen an egg as big as this!’ he exclaims. ‘It must have come from an island far away. Look how it shines, Tawny! Just like real gold!’
Tawny growls. Suddenly he’s sorry he stopped. He’s got a bad feeling about this. Then he hears something, and the bad feeling gets worse. There’s a tiny scratching, tapping noise coming from the egg. Something inside is trying to get out!
‘The egg’s starting to hatch!’ Monty shouts in excitement. ‘We’d better get it up to the Cafe quick smart, Tawny! The baby bird will be warmer and drier inside.’
He slides the egg into his Handy Bag to keep it safe. Then he puts his head down and hurries on up the beach, dragging the Sled behind him.
Tawny follows Monty. He still has a bad feeling, but he always follows Monty and, anyway, he’s hungry. Ahead, he can see Clink the Shipwrecked Pirate stumping towards the Cafe path from his cave in the cliffs. Clink’s almost reached the sand and he’s moving fast. Breakfast must be ready.
Tawny peers over the treetops, towards the Cafe. Sure enough, something’s fluttering on the Signal Tree that grows through the Cafe roof. It’s the yellow shirt sleeve, which means Marigold the Clever Cook has made sweet-potato cakes for breakfast.
Tawny likes sweet-potato cakes. But even thinking about them doesn’t make the bad feeling go away.
‘Avast, ye scurvy thief!’ roars a voice. ‘Take that! An’ that!’
Tawny looks round. Monty looks up. They’ve almost reached the end of the beach. And there’s Clink, stamping in rage beside his treasure chest, pelting Bunchy the Magician with seaweed. Bunchy’s gabbling magic spells to try to protect herself, but her spells hardly ever work and they aren’t working now.
‘Stop it, Clink!’ Monty yells, and starts to run.
Bounding ahead, Tawny hears a low buzzing sound drifting from the trees that line the sand. He should find out what it is, but first he’s got to help Monty deal with Clink. So he keeps running, with the bad feeling growing stronger than ever.
Clink stops throwing seaweed when Tawny gets between him and Bunchy. Clink knows it wouldn’t be a good idea to hit Tawny with anything. But he doesn’t stop shouting.
‘Let me at her!’ he bawls as Monty pants up to him. ‘She were after me treasure, the rotten, thieving – ’
‘I didn’t touch your stupid treasure!’ Bunchy shouts. ‘I’ve only just got here! I came down to get Monty and Tawny! The swe
et-potato cakes are getting cold.’
‘Ye don’t fool me, Magician!’ Clink sneers. ‘Me treasure chest were buried, an’ now it ain’t! If ye didn’t dig it up, who did, eh?’
Monty sighs. ‘No one dug it up, Clink. The big waves uncovered it last night. Can’t you see? There are no footprints anywhere near it!’
Clink looks down at the treasure chest lying wedged in smooth, wet sand. He realises Monty’s right.
‘Rotten little island, what can’t even keep ahold of its own rotten sand!’ he mutters. ‘Sooner I get away from it, the better! Arr, now I got to bury me treasure all over again! Where’s me spade?’ He turns and stomps away, heading back to his cave.
‘Aren’t you even going to say you’re sorry?’ Bunchy screams after him. But Clink just keeps going.
‘Ooh!’ Bunchy squeals in fury. She runs to the treasure chest and throws open the lid. Gold and jewels gleam inside. ‘I’ll teach that Clink to be rude to a magician!’ she shouts. ‘I’ll turn his precious treasure into Scatterworms!’
The nearby seagulls look up with interest.
Bunchy glares at the treasure. ‘Transi wockle bally umtum!’ she chants, waving her arms. ‘Um . . . oozie – no, that’s not right, um – moozie, yes! – moozie goozie odgie-podgie. . . HEY PRESTO!’
Nothing happens, of course. Jeering, the seagulls wander away.
‘Leave it, Bunchy!’ Monty begs. ‘Clink’s coming back!’ And at the same moment, he hears a scratching sound and feels the egg in his Handy Bag move.
In all the excitement, he’s forgotten about the egg! He grabs the Sled and runs with it to the Cafe path, but then realises that Tawny isn’t behind him. Tawny’s a little way off, disappearing through a gap in the trees beside the beach.
What next? Monty thinks crossly. He puts the brake on the Sled and goes to see what’s wrong. Bunchy hurries after him. She doesn’t want to be around when Clink sees her footprints near the treasure chest.
Monty reaches the gap in the trees. He hears an echoing, buzzing sound and feels a little tingle of alarm.
‘What’s happening?’ Bunchy hisses in his ear, making him jump.
‘There’s something in here,’ Monty whispers back. He creeps forward, pushing dripping leaves aside. Huffing excitedly on the back of his neck, Bunchy tiptoes after him.
Tawny’s standing on guard beside a green canoe. The canoe’s lying upside down, and the buzzing sound is coming from underneath it.
‘I spied ye sneakin’ in there, Magician!’ Clink roars from the beach. ‘What d’ ye be hidin’, eh?’
He comes crashing through the trees, catches sight of the upside-down canoe and stops dead. ‘I seen it first!’ he yells. ‘That boat be mine!’
This is so clearly not true that no one bothers to answer. But at the sound of Clink’s shout the buzzing sound breaks off in a snort. The canoe heaves, and a sleepy-looking stranger crawls out from underneath – a big, strong stranger with a fine moustache.
Clink ducks behind Bunchy.
‘Where am I?’ the stranger mumbles. ‘What happened?’
‘You’re on our Island,’ Monty tells him.
‘You were asleep. You must have been washed up in the storm last night.’
The stranger blinks. ‘So I was,’ he says in a dazed sort of way. ‘I remember now. One minute I was safely away and everything was tickety-boo. Next thing, the storm hit.’
He shivers. ‘I was swept way, way off course! The waves were huge! The canoe turned over, but I hung on to it and it kept me afloat. Then it was dumped here. I dragged it as far from the water as I could . . .’
‘Then you crawled under it for shelter,’ Bunchy puts in admiringly. ‘That was clever of you!’
‘Yes, it was, wasn’t it?’ the stranger agrees. ‘Of course, being a Famous Explorer, I’m used to thrilling adventures and frightful dangers and so on, but – AAGH!’
His mouth falls open. His eyes bulge. He’s obviously just remembered something else. He turns the canoe over, and when he sees that it’s empty and there’s nothing underneath it but flattened grass, he gives a terrible cry.
‘Gone!’ he howls. ‘Oh, no!’
‘If it’s your canoe paddle you’re worrying about, it’s safe,’ Monty says. ‘I found it on the beach. I found a hat, too. That’s probably yours, as well.’
‘Probably,’ moans the Explorer. ‘But I’ve lost something much more important. It’s a box – a wooden box! It must have fallen into the water when the canoe tipped over. Oh, this is a disaster!’
Monty thinks of the fine wooden box on the Pick-up Sled, and sighs. The box would have made such a perfect home for the Argue Birds! Still, he can’t keep it now.
‘I think I can help you, Explorer,’ he says. He leads the way back to the beach and shows the Explorer the box on the Sled.
‘That’s it!’ the Explorer yells. He pushes Monty out of the way and grabs the box. But when he flips the lid open and sees that the box is empty, his face falls so far that he looks as if he’s going to cry.
‘Was there something precious inside it?’ Bunchy asks anxiously.
‘Precious?’ the Explorer moans. ‘Oh, you’ve got no idea! It was – ’ He breaks off and gives himself a little shake. ‘ – all my food,’ he finishes abruptly. ‘And I’m very hungry!’
Clink’s eyes light up. He glances slyly back to where the canoe lies hidden among the trees. ‘Arr, then ye’d best get up to the Cafe, matey!’ he says heartily. ‘Plenty of grub up there. Off ye go! Ye c’n have my share.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Clink!’ Bunchy exclaims in surprise.
‘Puh!’says Tawny. He and Monty both know what Clink’s up to.
‘You’d better take the canoe to the Cafe with you, Explorer,’ Monty says quickly. ‘Just in case someone steals it while you’re gone.’
He glances at Clink. Clink scowls. The Explorer nods wearily. ‘Right-o,’ he says. He takes the wet hat from the Sled, claps it on his head and trudges back into the trees.
Monty’s Handy Bag bulges as the egg inside jerks and rolls. There’s a loud crack, like the snapping of a dry twig.
‘What was that?’ Bunchy squeaks.
Monty pulls out the golden egg. A dark, jagged line has appeared across the gleaming shell.
‘Gold!’ bellows Clink, lunging forward. ‘Give it here!’
Monty lifts the egg high, out of Clink’s reach. ‘It’s not gold, Clink,’ he says. ‘It’s just an egg. And any minute it’s going to – ’
‘D’ ye think I don’t know gold when I see it, ye blitherin’ nincompoop?’ Clink roars. ‘Whatever’s inside that thing, the shell’s pure gold, I tell ye!’
Monty, Bunchy and Tawny stare at him, and then at the egg. Clink sounds very sure. Maybe he’s right.
The egg bounces in Monty’s hand. Clink freezes. Bunchy squeals in excitement. Monty quickly puts the egg down.
The crack in the shell widens. The golden egg splits in half. And out pops the strangest creature Monty’s ever seen.
The baby creature has a round, nodding head, a plump body and a lot of stubby little legs. It’s as golden as the egg it hatched from, and its eyes are as green as new leaves.
‘Puh!’ says Tawny.
‘Ickle!’ the baby chirps, taking a few, toddling steps. ‘Ickle, ickle, ickle!’
‘Oh, it’s so cute!’ Bunchy cries. ‘But it’s not a bird!’
Monty shakes his head in amazement. ‘And it’s not a lizard or a turtle or a baby dragon, either. What in the wide sea is it?’
‘Who cares?’ Clink’s edging towards the broken gold eggshell lying on the sand. He’s reaching out for the two shining pieces when the baby suddenly turns round and starts gobbling them up, CRACK, CRUNCH, CRACK!
‘Stop that!’ roars Clink. ‘Spit ’em out!’
He springs at the baby, but Bunchy catches him and holds him back. ‘Leave the poor little thing alone, Clink!’ she scolds. ‘He’s hungry!’
‘Hungry?’ Clink bellows
. ‘The thing c’n starve to death for all I care! That’s pure gold it’s eatin’!’ He struggles furiously but Bunchy won’t let him go.
CRUNCH, CRACK, CRUNCH! In seconds, the golden eggshell’s gone. The baby creature hunts around, but can’t find another crumb.
‘Ickle,’ it chirrups sadly. As it straightens up, Monty sees with surprise that it’s grown. The golden eggshell’s worked wonders! He’s about to point this out to the others when the tuft of bristles on the baby’s head twitches, its green eyes brighten, and it takes off across the sand, very fast. It seems to be heading for the sea.
‘Oh, no!’ Bunchy squeals. She turns to chase the baby, but Clink sticks out his wooden leg to trip her. She turns a somersault and lands with a thud.
‘What do you think you’re doing, Clink?’ she screams, struggling to get up. ‘If the baby gets to the water, he’ll drown!’
‘Good!’ snarls Clink. ‘Serve it right, the rotten, gold-guzzlin’ – ’
He breaks off with a squawk. His eyes bulge in horror. The baby wasn’t aiming for the sea at all! It’s stopped at the open treasure chest, and it’s gulping down gold coins as fast as it can. It’s not even bothering to chew.
‘Me gold!’ Clink howls. He rushes at the gobbling baby and tries to pull it away from the chest.
He hasn’t got a chance. Since it started eating his gold, the baby’s grown even more. It’s already twice the size it was when it hatched. Now it’s bigger and heavier than Clink, and he can’t make it budge.
‘It’s your own fault, Clink!’ Bunchy shrieks. ‘If you hadn’t tripped me, on purpose, this would never have happened!’
‘Ickle!’ the baby chirps happily, with its mouth full. ‘Ickle, ickle, ickle!’ It swallows, dips its head back into the treasure chest, and takes another huge mouthful of gold.
