‘She’s right,’ Whisker yelled, his feet suspended over the ocean, his fingers struggling to maintain their grip on the slippery rope. ‘And it may be our best chance of breaching their line. After all, they can’t shoot what they can’t see.’
‘Aye to that, Whisker,’ the Captain hollered, spinning the wheel. ‘Now you’d better pray that rain is here to stay, or we’ll be worse off than sitting ducks in hunting season.’
The Apple Pie turned westward and Whisker felt the hull righting itself and his feet lowering to the deck. It was still a challenge not to be washed overboard with the relentless barrage of waves that crashed over him, but with Ruby’s assistance, he managed to furl the sails to half-mast to prevent them from tearing, and adjusted the two yards for the downwind run.
‘The sails are set, Captain,’ he called out, as a burst of cannon fire erupted off the port side of the Apple Pie.
The grey haze of rain lit up with bright orange flashes, and three chunks of volcanic rock came hurtling through the air, narrowly missing the mainmast.
‘Ratbeard’s reward!’ the Captain exclaimed, ducking for cover behind the wheel. ‘They’re right beside us.’ He stamped a foot on the helm decking. ‘Where’s that lazy parrot, Chatterbeak? I need his sharp eyes up here now!’
The door to the navigation room swung open and Chatterbeak burst out in a flurry.
‘Caw, caw, here I am,’ he squawked. ‘I wasn’t sleeping. Not me. No need to panic!’
‘Eyes on the ocean,’ the Captain commanded. ‘Tell me what we’re up against.’
Chatterbeak flapped over to the bowsprit, sheltering his eyes from the downpour with an enormous blue-and-yellow wing.
‘I see rain, rain, and more rain,’ he prattled uselessly.
The Captain let out a hiss of frustration.
‘Anything I can do, Captain?’ Pete asked, poking his bony nose through the open doorway.
‘You can get your rat’s tail down to the gun deck and lend a paw with those cannons,’ the Captain shouted.
‘Aye, Captain,’ Pete replied, pulling Athena towards the stairwell.
No sooner had the two rats disappeared down the stairs than a further round of cannon fire echoed from the ship off the port side of the Apple Pie.
Six blasts in rapid succession sent a volley of volcanic rocks hurtling through the rain. One ploughed into the navigation room windows, sending shards of glass spraying in all directions. Whisker watched in terror, his feet frozen to the spot as a second projectile tore an enormous hole in the side of the bulwark right beside him. The impact flung him backwards across the slippery deck. Fragments of rock, wood and glass rained down like hail.
‘Whisker!’ Ruby cried, as his body skidded to a halt beside her. ‘Are you alright?’
He grabbed her outstretched arm and pulled himself to his feet.
‘I’m okay,’ he said, ignoring the stinging pain in his right shoulder.
‘But you’re bleeding,’ she exclaimed, pointing to a large splinter protruding from his upper arm.
‘It’s just a scratch,’ he said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
He was interrupted by three loud KABOOMS, as Horace and his gun crew sent a round of cannon pies whizzing into the rain.
Whisker used the distraction to grab the end of the splinter and yanked it free. He stifled a cry as it left his arm. Blood flowed freely from the open wound.
‘That looks worse than a scratch,’ Ruby said, tearing away his tattered sleeve and using it to bandage his arm.
This time Whisker didn’t argue. As Ruby tended his wound, he raised his head to check the damage to the navigation room. The impact of the rock had left a massive hole in the wall, destroying a pile of spare sails and damaging much of the furniture. But the helm stairs were still intact and the Captain stood unscathed behind the wheel. The sky above him was no longer black. It was a patchwork of greys, growing lighter and clearer by the second.
‘Captain,’ Whisker shouted. ‘Look up. The storm is blowing over.’
‘Good,’ the Captain huffed, without lifting his gaze. ‘This blasted rain hasn’t given us a shred of cover.’
‘Coo, coo, he might not say that when he sees what’s out there,’ Chatterbeak said softly.
The first Claw-of-War ship materialised through the rain like a ghost – only metres from the Apple Pie. Her cannons were still smoking and her hull was littered with broken pie crusts.
‘Cannons! Now!’ the Captain boomed as the helms-crab behind the wheel caught sight of them.
The command had barely left the Captain’s lips when the port side cannons of the Apple Pie exploded in succession – BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! – and three rock-hard pies blasted towards the warship. Two pies slammed into the hull, and the third collided with the top of the rudder, smashing it to pieces. A moment later, the ship veered wildly away from the Apple Pie as the helms-crab lost all control.
There was a cheer of triumph from the gun deck.
‘Don’t go celebrating just yet,’ the Captain bellowed. ‘We have two more ships to contend with.’
Through the thin veil of rain, Whisker made out the hazy outline of two ships directly in front of them. Sails lowered, oars extended, they were waiting deathly still. Beyond the ships lay a narrow passage between two rocky islands, leading directly into the Central Channel.
‘There’s our escape route,’ the Captain pointed out with relief to Ruby. ‘Do you think we can make it?’
‘That all depends on our firepower,’ Ruby replied, turning her attention to several pirate ships emerging beside them.
Whisker recognised the blue-hulled Sea Dog’s ship the Blood an’ Bones, sitting off their starboard side. Sailing closely behind her was a Viking longship. Painted red and black, she had a single square sail and a dozen oars. A grotesque gargoyle figurehead was raised above her bow and a line of cannons ran the entire length of her deck, manned by a crew of Tasmanian devils. Like their scar-faced captain, they wore Viking helmets and carried tridents, which they shook threateningly in the air.
‘Say hello to the Van Diemen,’ Ruby called with a wicked grin, as the devils loaded their cannons with river stones. ‘She won’t go down without a fight.’
Whisker looked back over the clearing ocean to see more ships appearing in their wake – pirate vessels and warships alike, all racing towards the Central Channel. There was no sign of the Leaping Lilly but, judging by the six cane toads clambering up the hull of the Nutcracker, he guessed their ship had been a casualty of the lightning strike.
Whisker’s attention was drawn closer to home by an alarmed cry from Chatterbeak. ‘Caw, caw, we have a problem!’
Whisker spun around to see the parrot pointing frantically to the two Claw-of-War ships. They were still a long way off, but they had begun moving into a defensive position. Whisker watched in dread as the two ships used their powerful oars to swivel their hulls around until they were positioned stern-to-stern, with their broadsides facing the attackers. Their combined lengths formed an impassable barrier between the two islands.
With the sound of hurried footsteps, Horace burst onto the deck.
‘Dirty dozen!’ he exclaimed, spotting the twelve loaded cannons waiting in readiness. ‘We can’t shoot them if we’re sailing straight at them – no pirate ship can.’
The Captain shot a quick glance over his shoulder.
‘Perhaps if we –’ he began. ‘Ratbeard save us! Where did he come from?’
Whisker and Horace took one look at each other and dashed up the helm stairs. There was no need to ask who the Captain had seen. The expression on his face told it all.
From the elevated height of the ship’s helm, Whisker had a clear view of what lay behind them. He saw the Golden Anchor bobbing at the end of a thick rope – miraculously still attached after the savage storm. He sighted the Nutcracker struggling to keep pace a short way back. And charging towards them, cannons blazing, leading a procession of the navy’s fastest ships, was Thunderclaw’s pi
rate-destroyer, the mighty Dreadnaught.
‘Rotten pies to Dreadnaughts!’ Horace exclaimed. ‘Thunderclaw will be upon us in minutes.’
‘What about that kite sail of ours, the Eagle?’ the Captain suggested. ‘We’ve used it to outrun the Dreadnaught before.’
‘Bad news,’ Whisker announced, pointing below to the navigation room. ‘The Eagle is lying in tatters with the rest of the spare sails. And even if we could patch it up, we’d need more than speed to get us through that blockade.’
‘We still have the training cannon,’ Horace reminded him, waving his hook at the cylindrical object abandoned on the deck. ‘We could drag it to the bowsprit and attack them from head-on.’
‘One cannon against twelve,’ the Captain said, shaking his head. ‘I don’t like the odds.’
‘I never like our odds,’ Horace muttered.
‘Alright,’ the Captain conceded. ‘If it’s our only option, then we’d better give it a shot. Ask Fred to bring up the remaining cannon pies and a keg of gunpowder from below.’
‘Better make that two kegs of gunpowder,’ Whisker added, staring down the length of the boat to where Chatterbeak stood. ‘And an extra fuse, and a box of matches.’
Horace looked at him in shock. ‘There’s no question you’re a strange one, Whisker, but if you intend to wedge an entire keg of gunpowder into a cannon then you’re –’
‘The gunpowder isn’t for the cannon,’ Whisker revealed.
‘Then what is it for?’ the Captain asked, shooting another anxious glance over his shoulder. ‘And it had better not involve blowing a hole in my ship!’
‘No, Captain,’ Whisker said, scampering down the helm stairs. ‘All going to plan, it will blow a hole in someone else’s ship.’
‘And how do you intend to do that?’ the Captain called after him.
‘That’s simple,’ Whisker replied. ‘We may not have the Eagle sail but we still have our parrot.’
Aerial Mayhem
In seconds, Whisker was seated on Chatterbeak’s back with a keg of gunpowder in his lap and a box of matches tucked under his belt.
‘Have you figured out where to drop this thing?’ Horace asked, wedging a short fuse in the lid of the keg.
‘I think so,’ Whisker replied. ‘From what Chatterbeak could tell me, the two warships are roped together to stop them from drifting apart. A direct hit to one of their sterns should damage both of their hulls.’
‘Excellent,’ Horace exclaimed with a malicious grin. He gave the fuse a final tug to make sure it was secure. ‘You’re all set. Good luck.’
‘Wait!’ cried a voice behind them.
Whisker felt a sudden jolt as a second body threw itself onto Chatterbeak’s back.
‘You didn’t honestly think you could fly off without me a second time?’ Ruby panted, wrapping her arms around his waist.
‘Err, no, of course not,’ he responded.
‘Good,’ Ruby said, digging in her heels. ‘Because I’m coming. Giddy up birdie!’
Chatterbeak let out a squawk of protest and rose into the air. ‘Caw, caw, you rats will be the death of me.’
The colourful parrot and his two passengers were soon flying high above the ocean, riding a brisk tailwind towards the two ships. The barren clifftops and cavernous passages of the Crumbling Rock Islands stretched out in front of them like a giant black maze, devoid of all colour and vegetation. In the distance, the swirling mass of clouds and rain continued its relentless charge towards Aladrya, blocking the late afternoon sun. Northeast of the warships, the Widow’s Web and a handful of other pirate ships were under heavy fire as they attempted to reach the main entrance of the channel. Beyond the battle, and sailing in a dead straight line to the north of Freeforia, was the Silver Sardine.
‘Happy treasure hunting, Sabre,’ Whisker muttered under his breath.
He heard the rattle of arrows behind him and swivelled his head to see Ruby readying her longbow.
‘Expecting trouble?’ he asked.
‘I’m always expecting trouble,’ she stated, passing him her small spyglass. ‘Here, tell me what you can see down there.’
Whisker swept the spyglass over the decks of the nearing ships.
‘Crabs,’ he reported. ‘Lots of soldier crabs – thick shells, big claws … hold on. They’re positioning something on the bulwark. It looks like a telescope –’
‘Trust me. It’s not a telescope,’ Ruby said, shaking her head. ‘I suspect you’re looking at a swivel gun – a small mounted cannon that fires clusters of metal balls known as grapeshot. At close range, it’s deadly.’
‘Close range, did you say?’ Chatterbeak gulped. ‘It’s fortunate we’re up here then.’
‘For now,’ Ruby said hesitantly. ‘But we can’t risk dropping a keg of gunpowder from this height. Who knows what will happen to it? It could bounce overboard or burst open on a wet deck, or blow off course or –’
‘Yes, yes,’ Chatterbeak squawked. ‘You’ve made your point. I’ll take you down.’
‘Not yet,’ Ruby instructed quickly. ‘Wait until we’re directly overhead. They’ll have less chance of hitting us and it will give me time to swap places with Whisker.’
Without warning, she lurched forward and began clambering over the apprentice. ‘Excuse me. Move aside.’
‘Ouch!’ he yelped as the end of her longbow dug into his injured arm. ‘Watch where you’re swinging that thing.’
‘Whoops,’ she said, whacking him in the face with her quiver. ‘Sorry.’
Whisker stuffed the spyglass into his belt and shuffled backwards, his arms wrapped tightly around the barrel, hoping that Ruby wasn’t about to send him or his precious cargo tumbling overboard.
‘Much better,’ Ruby said, locking her legs securely around Chatterbeak’s neck.
Whisker peered down at the ocean below. The Apple Pie and the Blood an’ Bones were slicing through the waves on a collision course with the two warships. The Nutcracker and the Van Diemen were neck and neck behind them. As he watched, there was a thunderous explosion of cannons as the navy vessels opened fire. Amber and scarlet flames leapt from the cannons, sending plumes of white smoke rising into the sky. Twelve jagged projectiles hurtled through the air, striking the hulls of the approaching ships. The Pie Rats returned fire with their single cannon, failing to make the distance.
‘I think our crew is in a spot of trouble,’ Whisker said anxiously.
‘Then it’s time we did something to help,’ Ruby said, nocking an arrow to her bow. ‘Down, Chatterbeak. Now!’
Whisker felt a sudden blast of wind to his face as the giant parrot tucked in his wings and dived. Flattening his upper body against the keg of gunpowder, Whisker dug in his knees and tried to hold on.
Sitting in the pilot’s seat, Ruby took the brunt of the wind, but she still managed to raise her bow in readiness for the oncoming crabs.
There was bright flash, followed by a loud CRACK as the swivel gun fired. Chatterbeak jerked to one side.
‘Hold steady!’ Ruby shouted. ‘We’re still out of firing range.’
Chatterbeak righted his course and the empty masts of the warships rushed towards them. Through the clearing smoke, Whisker saw half-a-dozen crabs frantically trying to reload the swivel gun.
Twang … thwack!
Ruby released her first arrow and it slammed into the shell of an officer. The arrow deflected harmlessly off his thick shell, but the impact sent him hurtling over the bulwark, taking two artillery crabs with him.
‘The keg!’ Ruby shouted as they neared the deck. ‘Get ready with that keg!’
In the chaos of the moment, Whisker had almost forgotten that he had a job to do. Releasing his injured right arm from the keg, he fumbled in his belt for the matchbox. His arm ached and his fingers were numb, but he fought against the pain, managing to tear the box open with his claws.
‘Oh cripes,’ he hissed as the matches began blowing out in the wind.
He snatched at the box
in desperation, grabbing one solitary match before the others disappeared behind him.
Twang! Ruby fired a second arrow.
‘Drop the keg!’ she bellowed. ‘Hurry!’
Glancing ahead, Whisker saw the stern of the ship only metres away and the helms-crab somersaulting backwards under the impact of Ruby’s shot.
‘Drop it! Drop it now!’ Ruby shouted.
Feverishly, Whisker struck the head of the match against the rough side of the keg and, in the same motion, brought the match to the fuse. There was a small hiss as the match sparked to life and a louder hiss, fizzle, fizzle as the fuse began to burn.
Using the strength of his left arm, Whisker heaved the sparking gunpowder keg off Chatterbeak’s back and it dropped to the deck with a THUD, rolling to a stop beside the ship’s wheel.
The parrot’s blue-and-yellow wings sprang open and he skimmed low over the wooden deck. Maintaining his speed, he banked around the jiggermast, knocked a crab flying, and then rocketed over the bulwark, disappearing into the canon smoke.
CRACK!
The sudden, sharp sound of the swivel gun echoed behind them. An instant later, Chatterbeak let out a squawk of pain and faltered in his wing strokes.
‘Chatterbeak!’ Whisker cried as the parrot began dropping towards the ocean. ‘Chatterbeak!’
The parrot’s wings were still beating but he was in a bad way. A patch of red was already spreading across the feathers of his left wing.
‘Ruby, he’s been hit,’ Whisker gasped.
‘Where?’ Ruby shouted. ‘Chatterbeak, are you hurt?’
‘My wing! My wing!’ he screeched deliriously. ‘Need water. Water everywhere …’
‘He’s in shock,’ Whisker said. ‘What do we do?’
‘Stay with us, Chatterbeak,’ Ruby shouted as the bird suddenly veered towards a wave. ‘The Apple Pie is just ahead.’
‘Can’t – make – it,’ he faltered. ‘Too far – to fly –’
SPLASH!
KABOOOOOM!
Chatterbeak plunged into a wave a second before the keg exploded behind them. Even underwater, Whisker could hear the devastating roar of the explosion followed by the splintering crack of wood as the vessels tore apart.
The Golden Anchor Page 23