Instead, he plucked up the courage and, knowing it was the final thing he would ever do, he leaned over and kissed her. It wasn’t a timid peck on the cheek. It was a proper kiss, a kiss that meant something.
Whisker’s heart leapt when he felt Ruby kissing him back. If this was the way it was going to end, at least he would die knowing how she truly felt.
Swan Song
Whisker waited – waited for the deep roar of cannons that would end it all.
But when the roar finally came it wasn’t from the hull of the Dreadnaught, nor was it from the line of gunships blocking the channel. It was louder, more ferocious – a chorus of explosions so deafening that Whisker thought the end of the world had come.
He broke from Ruby’s embrace to see the ocean behind the Dreadnaught light up like a fireworks display. And as Whisker watched in shock and wonder, the entire length of the Dreadnaught was bombarded by a hailstorm of flaming projectiles. The missiles exploded on impact, blasting brilliant purple flames high into the air. In seconds the four masts of the mighty Dreadnaught had ignited like dry kindling on a bonfire, reducing the once-glorious vessel to nothing more than a floating funeral pyre.
No sooner had the Dreadnaught erupted into flames than the surrounding warships were hit by an equally devastating barrage of cannon fire. Flying pies tipped with flaming purple warheads curved in majestic arcs through the sky, leaving rainbow-like trails of indigo and violet cinders in their wake. Striking their targets with deadly precision, they exploded with catastrophic force, splintering masts and tearing whale-sized holes in the sides of the ships. Crabs scrambled across the flaming decks in panic, abandoning their battle stations and hurling themselves, shell-first, into the surging sea. Pandemonium reigned.
Whisker had never witnessed anything so breathtakingly spectacular or so devastatingly destructive in all his life.
‘Shiver me salvation!’ Horace gasped, his eyes bigger than pie dishes. ‘Will you look at that.’
Following the direction of Horace’s quivering hook, Whisker turned to see a truly magnificent sight. An entire fleet of ships was surging into view through the lavender scented smoke. Approaching from the south, with their cannons blazing, they were led by the most glorious vessel Whisker had ever seen.
Her hull was constructed from yellow hardwood which shone like gold in the evening light. Golden sails of the finest silk hung from her three masts and she moved through the water with the grace of a dolphin.
Whisker removed the dented spyglass from his belt and raised it to his eye. What he saw took his breath away. Ornately gilded panels of gold depicting epic sea battles covered the outer walls of the ship’s navigation room. Her window frames were inlaid with polished stones. Her doorhandles were plated with silver. The entire ship was a work of art, radiating beauty and splendour.
And then Whisker saw it – the ship’s carved bulwark; its distinctive rippled shape resembling the crust of a pie.
Could it be? he gasped.
He swivelled the spyglass to the bow of the vessel, hoping to confirm his suspicions. Rising out of the waves, clutching a pie in her paws, was a golden Mer-Mouse. But she was no ordinary pie-carrying maiden. She was a figurehead of exquisite design wearing a dazzling, jewel-encrusted tiara.
‘Ratbeard’s reward,’ Whisker gasped in a barely audible whisper, realisation dawning. ‘It’s the Princess Pie.’
He turned to Ruby for a response but she was staring in disbelief at the golden ship, repeating to herself, ‘I don’t believe it. I simply don’t believe it …’
Horace, looking as equally baffled as Ruby, burst out, ‘But it can’t be the Princess Pie. She’s lying at the bottom of the ocean – isn’t she?’
‘She ran aground,’ Whisker said, still mesmerised by the beautiful vessel. ‘Or at least that’s what Rat Bait said.’
‘Rat Bait!’ Horace exclaimed. ‘Of course. He tried to tell us something about the Princess Pie in the pine forest.’
‘And?’ Whisker prompted.
‘And Ruby cut him off before he could speak,’ Horace confessed.
‘Humph!’ Ruby snorted, resuming her normal hostile demeanour.
‘So, what do you think he was trying to say?’ Whisker asked over the roar of cannons.
Horace waved his hook at the approaching ship. ‘I’m guessing it had something to do with his secret salvage and restoration of the Princess Pie.’
‘I could believe that,’ Whisker said with a small smile. ‘After all, Rat Bait is a master ship repairer and he loves to keep secrets.’
Horace stood on his toes and tried to peer through the smoke. ‘If only we could see who was sailing the ship …’
Whisker took his cue and, with the aid of the spyglass, began scanning the deck of the Princess Pie. It wasn’t long before he glimpsed several plump creatures scurrying around like ants.
‘There’s a crew of hamsters aboard,’ he relayed. ‘Though I can’t quite see who’s manning the –’
He stopped abruptly when a piercing shriek rang out across the water. ‘PUT SOME MUSCLE INTO IT, YOU LAZY FUR BALLS!’ The voice appeared to be coming from the Princess Pie and was being magnified through a bullhorn. ‘THERE’S AT LEAST ONE CLAW-OF-WAR SHIP WE HAVEN’T BURNT TO A CINDER AND THOSE CANNONS WON’T LOAD THEMSELVES …’
‘Well pickle me in vinegar and serve me up as sauerkraut!’ Horace exclaimed. ‘I’d recognise that voice anywhere. It’s that prune-faced old crone from the Pirate Cup, Granny Rat. I never thought I’d be glad to hear her soothing tones again.’ He looked at Ruby and added, ‘Err, no offence to your Gran or anything.’
Ruby simply glared at him.
‘And there’s Ruby’s grandfather, the Hermit, behind the ship’s wheel,’ Whisker observed, glimpsing the wiry old rat through the clearing smoke. ‘And I see a bilby in a Death Ball cap hurrying up from the gun deck with his arms full of matches.’
‘A bilby?’ Horace shouted in disbelief. ‘In a Death Ball cap? You don’t mean Frankie the flame Belorio, Super Slammer of ’86, world record holder for the most goals scored in consecutive games?’
‘The one and only,’ Whisker said with a smile. ‘And judging by the damage he’s caused to those warships, I’d say he’s even more accurate with a cannon than he is with a Death Ball.’
Horace shook his head in wonder. ‘And that’s saying something.’
‘Any sign of Rat Bait?’ Ruby asked, leaning over the ruined bulwark.
‘Not that I can see –’ Whisker began. ‘Hang on!’
He saw a flash of green from the bow of the ship and swivelled the spyglass towards a line of deck cannons. A figure in a green velvet suit was darting from one cannon to the next, using Frankie’s matches to light the fuses in rapid succession.
‘There he is,’ Whisker said, as the cannons roared to life. ‘Up to his neck in mischief.’
‘He’s certainly making a habit of showing up when we need him most,’ Ruby said with a genuine note of admiration.
‘Err, Whisker,’ Horace said slowly, ‘I don’t mean to sound negative, but if Rat Bait is on the Princess Pie then where is your si –?’
A loud HONK! echoed loudly from high above them and the three rats lifted their gaze to the heavens.
Bathed in the rays of the setting sun and flying in front of the charging fleet was an enormous white swan.
Honk, honk, honk!
Balthazar’s victory chant rang out, loud and clear, as he powered through the sky, a safe distance above the action, his pint-sized passenger holding on for dear life.
Whisker’s heart leapt for joy at the sight of his sister.
‘Anna!’ he shouted, waving his sword madly above his head. ‘Anna, we’re down here!’
With the Claw-of-War ships surrounding the pirates now completely obliterated, Balthazar began his spiralling descent towards the Apple Pie.
As Whisker waited for the swan to land, he surveyed the destruction around him. The Blood an’ Bones was drifting a short distanc
e away, damaged but afloat, her canine crew hauling devils, chipmunks and toads onto her slippery deck. The shadowy silhouettes of several more pirates could be seen clambering up the sides of the Widow’s Web. The upper section of her bow had been blasted to pieces, and only the stumps of her masts remained. She had taken a heavy battering, but would survive to sail another day.
The remaining pirate ships had not fared so well. Many of the vessels had already vanished beneath the waves, their crews unable to stem the gushing flows of water pouring into their hulls.
Beyond the ring of flaming warships and sinking pirate vessels, the line of gunships continued to block the Central Channel. The cumbersome ships had been driven back by the strong wind and remained just out of firing range, bobbing up and down like oversized bath toys. A long line of crabs paddled towards them, led by General Thunderclaw. Whisker noted, with grim satisfaction, that he was missing his right claw.
As the sun began sinking behind the islands to the west, Balthazar touched down on the deck and Whisker rushed over to greet his sister. She was dressed in an elaborate silk dress of the deepest emerald green, with puffy sleeves, fancy lacework and ribbons galore.
A true lady of the port, Whisker thought admiringly.
As Anna clambered off Balthazar and stepped towards her brother, Whisker glimpsed the golden anchor pendant hanging around her neck. As overjoyed as he was to see her, he couldn’t stop the aching pang of disappointment that filled his heart. Anna, he realised, had returned alone.
Putting on a brave face, he threw his arms around her.
‘Look at you,’ he said, forcing a smile. ‘All grown up.’
Anna hugged him back for the briefest of moments and then abruptly pulled away, her eyes flittering from side to side as if she was searching for something.
‘What’s wrong?’ Whisker asked, seeing her grave expression.
‘F-fox,’ Anna stammered. ‘C-chains …’
‘The fox?’ Horace gasped, spinning around and almost tumbling through a hole in the deck. ‘Is he here? Did you see him from the air?’
Anna’s searching eyes came to rest on a nearby passage to the south of the channel.
‘Fox,’ she said a second time, raising her arm as she spoke. ‘Chains …’
Confused, Whisker followed the direction of her pointing finger. His eyes locked on a narrow stretch of sea between two of the islands, but he saw nothing but churning waves and shadowy cliff faces.
And then he glimpsed it, as he had glimpsed it many times before: a ghostly apparition, appearing and disappearing with the setting sun. A ship, as black as night and as silent as death, slowly making her way into the islands. Her three slender masts supported jet-black sails and her hull rose out of the inky depths like an enormous black wave.
‘The Black Shadow,’ Whisker quavered. ‘She’s here.’
‘Are you certain?’ Ruby exclaimed, dashing to the rail for a clearer look. ‘I can’t see any – whoa!’ She let out a gasp of astonishment. ‘Ratbeard have mercy!’
‘What?’ Horace cried, still searching the channel for any signs of the vessel. ‘Is it the ghost ship? Have you seen it, too?’
‘I’ve seen it,’ Ruby said with a shudder. ‘But that vessel is no ghost ship.’
‘Then what is it?’ Horace gasped.
Ruby hesitated, looking to Whisker for an answer.
Beside Whisker, Anna stood with her arm outstretched, pointing and murmuring, ‘Chains … fox.’
Paws trembling, the apprentice raised the small spyglass to his eye. The starboard bulwark of the Black Shadow instantly filled his vision. Even in the dim light, he could make out the outline of an enormous dog-like animal padding across its four-tiered deck. Thick iron bars covered a row of windows set into the ship’s hull, through which only darkness could be seen.
The vessel suddenly turned around an island and Whisker was presented with an unrestricted view of her poop deck. It was a square platform with low rails and a large wheel affixed to its centre. A single figure stood behind the wheel, his appearance unmistakeable. He wore a long, black trench coat, secured around the waist by a thick belt. A polished walking cane hung by his side like a sword. His pointed orange ears and white-tipped orange tail were the only traces of colour Whisker could see on the entire ship.
‘The fox with no name,’ he shuddered.
‘Shiver me goose bumps!’ Horace gasped. ‘Are you saying the fox is aboard that ghostly galleon?’
‘I’m saying he is no less than her captain,’ Whisker said, passing Horace the spyglass. ‘And I should have made the connection sooner.’
‘What do you mean?’ Ruby asked in alarm.
‘Cast your mind back to the recent sightings of the Black Shadow,’ Whisker said. ‘The time and place of each sighting corresponds exactly with the fox’s movements. First it was Drumstick Island when Rat Bait traded the fox for my parent’s boat. At the time, one of the elderly residents saw the dreaded ghost ship and, in terror, locked herself in her bungalow. Next we have the prospector from the Wild Peninsula. He claimed to have seen the Black Shadow during his search for diamonds – the same diamonds we now know were being mined by the fox. And most recently, I saw the ship no less than three times during the Pirate Cup and a fourth time off the east coast of Aladrya.’
‘All those ghost sightings – real,’ Ruby shivered. ‘And if what you’re saying is true, the fox had no intention of visiting Elderhorne. He must have used the story to throw Eddie off his trail while he travelled east to rendezvous with the Black Shadow.’
Whisker nodded in agreement. ‘The footprints we saw near the river must have been left by the fox on his way through the mountains.’
‘And I’m pretty certain I know who his travelling companions were,’ Horace said, the spyglass plastered to his eye. ‘The same grey wolves patrolling that ship.’
‘But what is the Black Shadow doing in the middle of a sea battle?’ Ruby asked, shifting her gaze to the closest wreck.
Whisker hesitated, gathering his thoughts, thinking back to the conversation he had overheard in the high rollers’ room. It had provided him with answer after answer and he sensed there was one final piece of information waiting to reveal itself.
He recalled the words of the meerkats as they talked about the mine … we’re running short on workers …
He remembered the fox’s response, confident and determined. I can assure you that more workers are being recruited as we speak …
And then it clicked. Workers didn’t mean meerkats. Workers meant slaves.
‘The diamond mine,’ Whisker exclaimed. ‘The Black Shadow is transporting slaves to the new diamond mine.’
‘Shiver me cellmates!’ Horace cried, swivelling the spyglass over the barred windows of the Black Shadow. ‘That would explain all the talk about chains.’
‘The fox must have planned to smuggle the slaves – including our parents – into Freeforia the moment the Wild Peninsula was secure,’ Whisker said, placing a paw on Anna’s shoulder. He looked across at the flaming warships and added with a feeling of dread, ‘But now that the governor’s plans have been thwarted, who knows what will become of them?’
‘We can speculate on that later,’ Ruby said, pulling away from the bulwark and spurring her crewmates into action. ‘Right now we have a shadow to catch.’
‘But we’re in no position to mount a pursuit,’ Horace said, lowering the spyglass and sweeping his hook over the wreckage of the Apple Pie. ‘The old girl’s un-sailable.’
‘Then we’ll have to commandeer another vessel,’ Ruby said firmly. ‘Once that ship vanishes into the islands we may never catch sight of her again.’
Whisker looked back at the approaching fleet. Through the dissipating smoke, he recognised several of the lead vessels from the Pirate Cup. Baron Gustave’s purple-sailed beauty, the Velvet Wave, sailed in the slipstream of the Princess Pie.
Behind the Velvet Wave came the Penguin Pirate’s Arctic Wind, and King Marvownion�
��s HMS Majesty.
They were all formidable fighting vessels, but they were designed for open-sea sailing, not for manoeuvring through tight passages. Looking further into the fleet, Whisker realised that the smaller vessels would never reach him in time.
Discouraged, but not defeated, he glanced across at Balthazar, thinking of a third option. The white swan was big, enormous in fact, but he looked exhausted after his flight from Aladrya and Whisker doubted he had the strength to carry an entire crew of fully-armed Pie Rats into battle.
And then another thought occurred to him and he spun on his heel and took off up the decimated helm stairs.
‘Where are you going?’ Horace shouted after him.
‘To check on the anchor,’ Whisker replied, hurdling three steps at a time.
‘But the anchor’s not up there,’ Horace said in confusion. ‘It’s hanging off the bow – or maybe it’s lying at the bottom of the ocean? Either way, you’re heading in the wrong direction.’
Ignoring Horace’s objection, Whisker dashed past the remains of the ship’s wheel and skidded to a halt at the end of the raised deck. The railing had been smashed to smithereens, leaving a sheer drop to the ocean below. Whisker peered over the edge to see a truly miraculous sight. A single-masted boat, painted a brilliant shade of yellow, drifted unscathed at the end of a rope.
Its carved figurehead instantly filled him with hope.
‘The Golden Anchor,’ he marvelled. ‘Am I glad to see you.’
The Golden Anchor
As he peered down at the golden vessel, Whisker heard hurried footsteps behind him and spun around as his companions scurried up the stairs.
‘I’ve found our vessel,’ he called out to them. ‘Now all I need is a crew.’
‘Count me in,’ Ruby volunteered without hesitation.
‘And me,’ Horace added, raising his hook.
‘And there’s two more willing bodies down here,’ boomed a voice from below.
The Golden Anchor Page 25