The Golden Anchor

by Cameron Stelzer

  And in the very centre of the prisoners, their faces caked with dirt and grime, Whisker saw two animals he recognised instantly. They had been with him on the night of the cyclone and he had dreamt of them every night since.

  His mother, Faye, looked up at him with pale blue eyes the colour of winter clouds and smiled gently.

  His father, Robert, wide-eyed with wonder at the sight of his son, could barely contain the enormous grin that spread from ear to ear.

  It was the happiest moment of Whisker’s life.

  But it was only a moment.

  The pain came without warning – a sudden, stabbing sensation in Whisker’s left side, and his legs gave way beneath him.

  The axe dropped from his paws and he collapsed to the deck, rolling onto his back as he fell.

  He looked up in pain and confusion to see the fox towering over him, a diamond-hilted sword blade in his paws. The look of evil triumph in his devilish orange eyes drained what little strength Whisker had left.

  Lying in agony and powerless to fight back, Whisker wrapped his fingers around his anchor pendant and squeezed it tightly.

  ‘A little late for lucky charms, don’t you think,’ the fox said malevolently, levelling his sword at Whisker’s throat.

  ‘Not – luck,’ Whisker gasped weakly, the words barely leaving his lips. ‘Hope …’

  There was a flash of movement from Whisker’s right and a huge rodent-like creature burst through the flames. Flames glinted in his enormous eye as he tackled the fox from side-on.

  Caught unawares by the sudden attack, the fox was thrown off his feet and the two animals disappeared from Whisker’s sight.

  The apprentice was left staring up at a sky of fire, defeated and dying.

  He let his head slump onto the deck.

  His vision began to blur.

  Distant memories filtered into his consciousness, transforming the inferno around him into a scene of unparalleled terror. Flames became waves, ash became rain, and Whisker was suddenly back where it all began – drowning in the middle of the ocean with the cyclone raging overhead.

  Waves pounded his fragile body. Water flooded into his throat. Gasping for air, he looked up to see a single green eye staring down at him, arms clutching at his tattered shirt in desperation.

  And the last thing Whisker heard before the sea dragged him under was a solitary, sobbing cry.

  ‘I promise.’

  Then his world turned black, and the story of Whisker, the Pie Rat apprentice, came to an end.

  The Promise

  It was a calm, clear day and only a light breeze blew off the ocean, whistling through long, stringy pandanus leaves and rustling the heads of yellow paper daisies clinging to the clifftop.

  A green-eyed rat sat on the porch of the lighthouse keeper’s cottage, overlooking the Bay of Freeforia. Head in her paws, she was struggling to stay awake. A shadow passed by the window and she looked up with a bleary eye.

  The door slowly opened and a hunched rat shuffled out. CLOMP, patter, CLOMP. He stopped when he saw her sitting there, but couldn’t find the words to speak.

  The green-eyed rat saw the expression on his face and burst into tears, too weary and too tired to move from her seat.

  Awkwardly, the rat placed several empty bottles on the bench beside her as the tears streamed down her cheeks.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  She stopped sobbing and looked up at him. ‘You have some nerve. Do you know that? I sit here for three whole days, worried sick, and all you can say is, I’m sorry.’

  He glanced down at his toes, confused. ‘Would you prefer me to go back inside and shut the door?’

  ‘No, Whisker,’ she said, her teary face transforming into a broad smile. ‘I don’t want you to go anywhere.’ She leapt to her feet and threw her arms around his neck. He dropped the wooden walking stick he was using to support his weary body and hugged her back.

  ‘I thought I’d lost you,’ she sobbed. ‘After everything we’ve been through I thought it was the end.’

  ‘I had something worth fighting for,’ he said with a weak grin. ‘Plus the three bottles of medicine you tipped down my throat on that ship must have helped.’

  ‘You were lucky,’ Ruby said, pulling back to look at him. ‘If that blade had struck any closer to your heart, an entire barrel of medicine wouldn’t have saved you.’

  Whisker glanced down at his patched-up side, then shifted his attention to the multitude of bandages covering the rest of his cuts and burns. To Ruby, he must have looked like an Egyptian mummy.

  ‘Was I really unconscious for three days?’ he asked.

  ‘Three-and-a-half days to be precise,’ she said.

  ‘And have you been here all that time?’ he inquired.

  ‘Every minute of it,’ she said, unable to stifle a yawn. ‘I promised I wouldn’t leave you. And I don’t break promises lightly.’

  ‘But still –’ he began.

  ‘Don’t worry. I wasn’t alone,’ she said, seeing his look of concern.

  ‘Were my parents here?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Are they –?’

  ‘They’re alive and well,’ she reassured him. ‘In fact, they only just left for the village before you woke up. Your father said he had a few items to collect.’

  ‘And the rest of the slaves?’ Whisker asked, recalling what he had seen through the hatch. ‘Did they escape the ship?’

  ‘Every last one of them,’ Ruby said. ‘And all thanks to a certain brave Pie Rat.’

  ‘Save your praises for Fred,’ Whisker said humbly. ‘He was the real hero. Did you see how he burst through those flames to tackle the fox?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ruby said. ‘But I also saw you take a sword in the side trying to save those prisoners. And that kind of sacrifice is the very definition of heroics – doing something that matters, when it matters most, even if it hurts.’

  Whisker wasn’t sure what to say. He had never set out to be a hero. He simply wanted to do what was right.

  ‘It looks like your days as an apprentice are over,’ Ruby said with a wry grin. ‘The Captain has decided to pass you on your seventh and final apprenticeship test. I’m sure he’ll hold some kind of stuffy graduation ceremony before he leaves for the Island of Destiny, but for now you’re free to –’

  ‘Hold on. Slow down,’ Whisker said, raising two bandaged paws in the air. ‘Did you say the Captain is sailing to the Island of Destiny?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Ruby said, dismissively as if it were old news. ‘After we captured the fox and the wolves, we were faced with the dilemma of what to do with them. Granny Rat had the novel idea of marooning the scoundrels on the Island of Destiny, while turning the return voyage into a family holiday. Needless to say, the Hermit and my uncle have agreed to accompany her on the Princess Pie. She did extend the invitation to me, but family holidays with angry Grans and rat-eating wolves are not really my mug of Apple Fizz.’

  ‘That’s understandable,’ Whisker said, then remembering something he added, ‘Is Rat Bait going with them?’

  Ruby shook her head. ‘He’s up to his armpits with ship repairs and all of his other official duties.’

  ‘I take it the Apple Pie made it back to shore then?’ Whisker asked.

  ‘Most of her, anyway,’ Ruby replied. ‘The Golden Anchor, on the other hand, took a real battering when the cliff face collapsed. It was a miracle she didn’t sink completely. As it was, we were forced to leave her on the headland while we swam back to the Black Shadow.’ She paused, and then added reflectively, ‘It was a good thing Horace thought to fish out those medicine bottles from the bottom of the boat, even if he did insist on bringing the knives and forks …’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, by the time we reached the flaming hull, the fox was already sneaking up behind you with that nasty cane of his. We tried shouting out to you in warning, but I guess you didn’t hear us over the roar of the flames.’

  Whisker leaned back against the bench, trying not to dwell on that harrowi
ng moment. His wounded side throbbed dully and he knew that, even after the pain had gone, he’d be left with a scar as a permanent reminder of his ordeal.

  ‘You did all you could,’ he said gently.

  Ruby opened her mouth to respond but a loud, gruff cry of exclamation cut through the quiet air. ‘Why, if it isn’t me favourite grandson returned from the dead.’

  Whisker looked up. An old rat was emerging from a nearby grove of pandanus trees, puffing and panting, and waving furiously with one paw. He was dressed in an extravagant velvet captain’s jacket of the deepest emerald green, with a matching captain’s hat. As regal as he appeared, there was no hiding the splotches of gold paint and deck varnish flecked across his clothing.

  ‘Rat Bait,’ Ruby said, pulling a sour face. ‘I knew that old rogue would come sniffing around sooner or later.’

  ‘Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss Ruby,’ Rat Bait said, tipping his hat, ‘but I just thought I’d pop by an’ check on the wee lad before the crowds come floodin’ up the hill.’

  ‘What crowds?’ Ruby hissed, rising to her feet. ‘Whisker’s location was supposed to be kept a secret. We all agreed there were to be no visitors until he had fully recovered.’

  ‘Aye, Miss Ruby,’ Rat Bait said, bobbing his head in acknowledgement. ‘Ye don’t need to remind me ‘bout the arrangements. But ye know what Master Horace is like when it comes to keepin’ a secret.’

  Ruby rolled her eye. ‘Do I ever!’

  ‘Not to worry,’ Rat Bait said, clambering up the porch steps, ‘Whisker looks like he’s well an’ truly on the mend.’ He walked over to his grandson, grinning from ear to ear.

  For the first time, Whisker realised just how much Rat Bait resembled his father. They had the same cheeky grin, the same twinkle in their eyes.

  As Whisker rose to his feet to greet Rat Bait, he spotted the five gold stars pinned to his jacket, the mark of a five-star admiral. Rat Bait an admiral, he thought in amazement. Three days in a coma and this is what I wake up to.

  Unsure what the protocol was in such a situation, he attempted to salute the higher-ranking rat, but Rat Bait brushed the action away.

  ‘Come here, young scallywag,’ he beamed, throwing his arms around his grandson. ‘Give yer Pa a hug.’

  ‘Aye –’ Whisker gasped, as the breath was squeezed out of him in a crushing embrace.

  ‘Easy does it, Admiral,’ Ruby said, trying to extract the excited rat from his injured grandson. ‘I doubt we could bring Whisker back from the dead twice in one week.’

  ‘Err, yes, right ye be,’ Rat Bait said, releasing his grip and helping Whisker down onto the bench. ‘I hope I haven’t damaged anythin’.’

  Whisker raised one paw to show he was alright, although it took a moment for him to regain his breath.

  Rat Bait took the liberty of plonking himself down on the end of the bench, almost catapulting Whisker into the air.

  ‘I suspect ye have a lot of questions for me,’ Rat Bait said, ignoring the crossed arms and shaking head of Ruby.

  ‘A couple,’ Whisker replied, though the number was closer to a dozen.

  ‘Well then,’ Rat Bait said, making himself comfortable. ‘Let me enlighten ye with a few answers. After we departed company six days ago, Miss Anna and I travelled to Elderhorne and then on to Port Abalilly in search o’ the fox. There be no sign o’ the elusive creature in either town, so we decided to venture westward to Sea Shanty Island, figurin’ it’d be the best place for a shady character like the fox to pick up a crew. I remembered that Granny Rat an’ the Hermit had taken refuge on the island followin’ the Pirate Cup an’ hoped they might be o’ some assistance with our investigations.

  ‘The sea b’tween Aladrya an’ Sea Shanty Island be strangely empty o’ navy vessels, an’ we reached the island to hear whispers o’ a large fleet o’ Blue Claw ships headin’ t’wards Freeforia. Now a fleet o’ pirates is one thing, but add the entire Aladryan navy to the mix, an’ ye have more trouble than one li’l Pie Rat ship can handle – even with a bright young apprentice on board.’

  He grinned at Whisker, and continued. ‘So, after we met up with Granny Rat an’ the Hermit, an’ realised the fox had given us the slip, we took it upon ourselves to rustle up a rescue party to bail ye out o’ trouble. At first we thought our pleas would fall on deaf ears, but then the strangest thing happened. An old muskrat in one o’ the dockside taverns recognised the pendant hangin’ around Miss Anna’s neck.

  ‘He says to me, If that mission o’ yers has anythin’ to do with Anso Win’erbottom an’ his beloved Freeforia, then count me in. I’m in his debt for the bag o’ gold he gave me to purchase me first boat when I be a poor dockworker. That kind o’ generosity is a rare thing an’ it deserves some repayin’, even after all these years.

  ‘An’ the muskrat wasn’t the only one with a story like that. Sailors an’ scoundrels alike emerged from the shadows with tales o’ how ol’ Anso had helped their fathers an’ grandfathers, their uncles an’ aunties, in some way or another – never expectin’ anythin’ in return. That was the kind o’ rat Anso be – a giver. A coin here, a sack o’ food there – always givin’ to those in need.’

  Whisker smiled as he tried to picture the great-grandfather he had never met. Not only was Anso a brilliant sailor and an unrivalled strategist, but he was also a kind soul. And that made Whisker doubly proud to be his great-grandson.

  ‘I guess that explains the mystery of Anso’s lost fortune,’ he said. ‘He must have given it all away, one penny at a time.’

  ‘In a manner o’ speakin’,’ Rat Bait replied, with a sneaky glance at Ruby. ‘But let me continue. The mere sight o’ that golden anchor an’ its smilin’ wearer be enough to convince the riff raff o’ Sea Shanty Island to raise their anchors an’ follow us into battle. Fred’s mates, the hamsters, passin’ through on a shoppin’ trip from Drumstick Island lit’rally begged us to take them. Even Frankie Belorio, in town as part o’ his promotional tour, cancelled his book signin’ an’ jumped on the bandwagon.

  ‘O’ course we needed some competent capt’ns to lead the charge, as well as a healthy supply o’ ammunition. So, the Hermit an’ I took ourselves off to the Capt’n’s Inn in search o’ the right folk for the job. And who should we find in a dark corner o’ the room but the genius of gunpowder himself, Baron Gustave. He was sharing a drink with King Marvownion and several other capt’ns from the Pirate Cup. Over a mug or six o’ Apple Fizz we devised a rather devious way to turn yer humble three-finned pies into a slightly more potent form o’ flamin’ projectile.’

  ‘Devastating, would be a more accurate description,’ Ruby added.

  ‘Aye to that,’ Rat Bait said with a chuckle. ‘I’d wager Thunderclaw never expected to return to Aladrya with only a handful o’ gunships in his fleet.’

  ‘So the navy was forced to retreat?’ Whisker asked, unaware of what had become of the gunships.

  Rat Bait laughed loudly. ‘Them nasty blighters scuttled away with their claws b’tween their legs.’ He considered his statement and added. ‘Well, any crabs who still had their claws. One thing is certain, Governor Cazban won’t be attemptin’ another stunt like that anytime soon.’

  ‘And the Princess Pie?’ Whisker asked. ‘Where did you find her?’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Rat Bait sighed. ‘The golden goddess. I had intended to tell ye about her in the forest, but –’

  He paused and glanced up at Ruby who promptly finished his sentence, ‘But a certain someone cut you off, etcetera, etcetera.’

  ‘Aye, that sounds about right,’ Rat Bait said. ‘Anyway, true to the rumours ye may have heard, the Princess Pie did once run aground. What ye might not be aware of, is that a certain antiques dealer decided that the Princess be worth salvagin’ an’ had the wreck secretly transported to a dry dock on Sea Shanty Island. O’ course, she needed a competent ship repairer to carry out the restoration work – no points for guessin’ who that be. An’ the vessel was restored, piece by piece, durin’ me fr
equent visits to the island.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Whisker interrupted. ‘Are you talking about the dry dock next to Madam Pearl’s import warehouse?’

  ‘Aye,’ Rat Bait said. ‘The very same building ye incinerated while tryin’ to escape from the Cat Fish the night we first met. I had wondered if ye’d spotted the ship that evenin’.’

  ‘Only the silhouette of her masts from a distance,’ Whisker admitted. ‘But I was a little distracted at the time.’

  Rat Bait stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Tis a fortunate thing that fire never spread as far as the dry dock or there may not have been much o’ a ship to sail. Naturally, I let her first capt’n, the Hermit, take control o’ the wheel while I had all the fun with the new ammunition.’ He couldn’t resist a cheeky wink.

  Whisker adjusted his position on the bench, his mind churning over everything Rat Bait had said. Several things were still puzzling him.

  ‘What about your new admiral title?’ he enquired. ‘How did that come about?’

  ‘It’s rather simple, really,’ Rat Bait said, in his most admiralish voice. ‘Followin’ the whole invasion debacle, the tribal chiefs decided that Freeforia needed its own navy – or the Freeforian Freedom Fighters, as Horace is callin’ it. Papa Niko thought that a rat o’ my calibre an’ expertise would be ideal to command such a fleet.’ He puffed out his chest and grinned proudly.

  ‘But I thought you were retired,’ Whisker said.

  ‘Bah! The retired life be overrated,’ Rat Bait said dismissively. ‘Besides, who am I to say no to animals in need?’

  ‘Well, congratulations,’ Whisker said. ‘I’m sure you’ll make a great admiral.’

  ‘O’ course I’ll be requirin’ some capable capt’ns for me fleet,’ Rat Bait hinted. ‘An’ the Apple Pie’s in need o’ a commanding officer while Black Rat is away on his family holiday.’

  ‘What about Pete?’ Whisker asked.

  ‘Oh, I think Pete will have his bony paws full for quite some time,’ Rat Bait said with a knowing grin.