by Alan Snow
“So some of your people got poisoned?” asked Arthur.
“Yes. Occasionally somebody would get caught in the rain and end up having to be locked away.
“It was very sad. The cheeses who live in the forest here have no natural predators and are the only creatures not affected by the cabbage rain, but once a few people got the mania, they were almost wiped out.”
If someone had been very carefully watching Snatcher at that moment, they would’ve seen him lick his lips and mutter to himself.
The cheeses who live in the forest.
Willbury spoke. “It would be a real blessing if you could help us. There are a few other things we need, like food, fuel, and fresh water, for the journey home.”
“No problem. And you’re welcome to stay on the island while we get everything you need.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“Do you need to get anything from your boat?”
“Well, we need to bring our water barrels ashore to fill . . .”
“Would you like to use our fishing boats, or you could use our monster?”
Willbury looked slightly panicked and spoke hurriedly. “I think the fishing boats, if we may.”
Arthur was very disappointed by this. The chance to ride in the monster seemed very appealing.
“Boats it is, then. If some of you would like to get on with that, our children can help the other members of your crew find water and food.”
The island children all nodded.
“And,” added the queen, “would you all like to feast with us tonight before we collect Un-Cabbage Flowers?” Then she added, “Apart from the poisoners, that is.”
Tom shot a triumphant look at Snatcher and stepped forward to speak. “I think I can say on behalf of the non-poisoners that we would like to accept your offer of a feast.”
Everybody apart from Snatcher and his mob cheered.
“So shall we say a feast at about ten, and afterward we shall start collecting Un-Cabbage Flowers?”
“YES!” came the cry.
The meeting broke up. Bert and some of the islanders set off to the cave with Snatcher and company, Kipper took a boat back to the ship with some fishermen to collect water barrels, and Arthur and the other crew went off to collect food and wood with the children. The other islanders set about preparing for the feast.
Fish kept close to Arthur as they wandered into the trees. He kept looking up worriedly.
“You don’t need to worry,” said a small girl. “The Black Cabbage Trees don’t start until much higher up the hill, and it never rains until exactly ten o’clock. Down here are just breadfruit, bananas, coconuts, and yams.”
Fish kept close to Arthur.
This made Fish feel much happier. He didn’t like the idea of cabbage rain one bit.
Over the next few hours a huge pile of food built up on the sands, and Kipper returned in a fishing boat towing the empty water barrels behind it. The bigger pirates then took the barrels to a nearby waterfall that the children showed them and filled them up, before rolling them back to the beach.
When the queen saw how fast everything was being done, she told them not to rush too much, as it would take at least three days to collect the flowers they needed.
“This is an island. And you have to learn to move at our speed!” she joked.
Rolling the barrels back to the beach.
This seemed very agreeable to everyone, and they decided they’d done enough and had a long swim in the waterfall pool. Fish was the first to dive in, followed by Arthur. As they swam under the base of the waterfall, Fish was as happy as Arthur had ever seen him.
A long swim in the waterfall pool.
Mass Arrests as Net Closes on “Cheesy Crims”
Ratbridge jail is now overflowing with “Cheesy Crims” after a police operation last night. Retained cheese hounds led police to over a hundred addresses and at most of these, traces of cheese were found. In total over two hundred “Cheesy Crims” were apprehended.
Police stated that there could only be a few of the mob at large, and it is only a matter of days before cheese would be safe again.
Conditions inside the jail are said to be terrible. This paper says, “SERVES THEM RIGHT!”
“Get yer vests off and start unraveling them.”
chapter 31
IN A HOLE
Snatcher seemed in a surprisingly good mood for a trapped man. Although the cave had not been used for many years, a certain number of “things” had fallen into it and were piled up on the floor. He waited until the voices above had died away and then spoke.
“Things ain’t going to end this way. I’ve got a plan. Gristle, collect up all these bones and bits of old stick. We are going to make a ladder.”
“How’s we going to stick them together?”
Snatcher looked at his men. “Get yer vests off and start unraveling them.”
Ratbridge had always been home to the string vest, and this garment was to be their savior. But it was not without a cost—for what Snatcher hadn’t quite banked on was the smell. Even the dowsing and swim in the sea hadn’t done much to ease the personal odor of his mob.
But there was no way round it, so, pinching his nose, Snatcher oversaw the construction of the ladder. The stench was almost overpowering, and by the time the ladder was ready, he had nearly passed out.
“Right. Put it up against the wall.”
The ladder was six feet short of the surface.
“I think we need to build it up a bit,” suggested Gristle.
“I guess we do. Gristle and the rest of you louts, lie down!”
They lay down in a heap, and Snatcher repositioned the ladder. On top of the heap.
“Very good, lads. Keep still while I climb up.”
The sounds of pain echoed around the cave as Snatcher clambered up the heap and started up the ladder. Soon he reached the surface and looked back.
“Gristle, you next. And bring any spare string.”
Gristle pulled himself out from the pile and did as he was told. Then one by one, the person at the top of the pile lifted the ladder off themselves, and placed it back on the pile so they could then climb up. The pile grew shorter and shorter, and the ladder sunk lower and lower. The last few took some hoisting with string to get them up to the top.
“I think I’m broken,” Gristle said with a moan.
“Which bit of you?”
“All of me.”
“Shut up and follow me,” snapped Snatcher. “With luck we’re going to take a monster for a walk.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re going to visit my old trading partner Guillemot, and we are going to use that monster to get there.”
Shadowy figures rushed across the beach and up the tail of the monster.
chapter 32
“WALKIES!”
Arthur and his friends sat beneath the palms as guests of the queen and the other islanders. Before them a feast was laid out, and soon everybody was digging into stone-pit–cooked pork, coconut-milk cocktails, and some of the finest food that Arthur had ever tasted. Everyone felt happy and optimistic—it looked as if their mission would soon be accomplished.
So engrossed were the party in their feast that they did not notice the shadowy figures rushing quietly across the beach and up the tail of the monster. A small door in the monster’s back was opened, and the figures disappeared inside.
After some clambering about, Snatcher reached the monster’s brain and set about studying the controls.
“They may be very primitive people, but they could teach us a thing or two. Gristle, them’s the levers what make the legs work. Start walkin’!”
Gristle did as he was told, there was some clunking, and the giant figure of the monster moved to the water’s edge and started to paddle out to sea. Soon it had passed out of the lagoon and was waist-deep in seawater.
Waist-deep in seawater.
“Master, some of ’em down below is g
etting very wet. Any chance we could get a bit shallower?”
“Tell ’em to hold their breath and remember the mutiny laws. I wouldn’t want to have to chuck anybody out in these shark-infested waters.”
There were no more complaints.
* * *
Kipper had finished his third plate of ribs and sweet potato, and Arthur had eaten at least two pineapples when Queen Flo arose to speak.
“We are going into the Cabbage Forest tonight not long after the rains. This we don’t normally do, but we’ve a lot of flowers to collect. I’ll issue you all with umbrellas to keep off any drips. Be careful! The ground will be wet, and if you lick your toes, it would be very dangerous. We’ll go for a paddle in the sea afterward to be on the safe side. Now please follow me.”
She led them to a hut stacked full of homemade umbrellas, and everybody took one. They all formed a line with the queen at its head, and they set off into the darkness of the forest. Arthur could only just see Kipper in front of him in the gloom, and he almost fell over a number of times, as the ground was uneven and roots crossed the path. After a few minutes the queen called out and the line stopped.
“It’s about to start. Put up your umbrellas, please.”
As they put them up, Arthur asked, “What is about to start?”
The heavens opened.
But before anybody could answer him, the heavens opened and the heaviest rain Arthur had ever encountered started. The noise was deafening, and when the rain hit the ground, it bounced almost to waist height.
Then as suddenly as it started . . . it stopped.
The air now felt very damp and warm, and there was a smell of vegetables.
“Does it do this every night?” Arthur asked.
“As regularly as the sun rises.”
“So is it safe now to start collecting the flowers?”
“NO! We have to wait until most of the dripping stops, and even then there is a chance one of us could be poisoned. A single drip reaching your mouth would be enough . . .”
Arthur and his friends closed their mouths very tightly and made sure they were right under their umbrellas. The queen saw their unease and smiled.
“It’s safe where we’re standing, but once I take you past the next stream, the Black Cabbage trees start and you have to be very, very careful. Keep your umbrellas up and look for the purple flowers beneath the trees. If you find some, only pick one flower from each clump. That way they’ll have a chance to grow back again.”
“How’ll we see them in this dark?”
“You will, don’t worry. Follow me!”
She led the nervous line over a stream toward the deadly dripping trees.
Arthur felt an umbrella bang into his from behind. It was Fish. The boxtroll was looking nervous, and obviously trying to stay as close as possible to Arthur.
Arthur considered reassuring his friend but instead decided to keep his mouth tight shut, as every few seconds a light patter sounded as a drip landed on his umbrella.
Then something miraculous happened. Spots of pale purple light started to glow under the trees.
“Is that the flowers glowing?” Marjorie asked from between pursed lips.
“Yes. Beautiful, isn’t it. They glow as they produce the antidote,” the queen replied.
“They glow as they produce the antidote.”
No one talked as they moved through the forest collecting the flowers. Arthur did get very scared when a breeze hit the trees above and a shower of drips rained down on his umbrella, but he managed to avoid any splashes.
Queen Flo collected the gathered flowers from everyone, and when she thought they had enough, led them quietly out of the forest and back to the beach for a paddle.
When their feet were washed of any poison, they walked up the beach and turned in for the night. New hammocks had been slung between the palm trees for the crew, and it was a beautiful place to sleep.
“If things were different,” Arthur said to Willbury, “it would the most perfect night in the whole world.”
Willbury agreed. “It’s not something I shall ever forget. Imagine us sleeping on a tropical island beach under the stars.”
The gentle breeze from the sea rustled the palm leaves above them, and the breaking of the waves lulled them slowly to sleep. It was glorious, and still no one noticed that the monster was gone.
“It was glorious.”
Trap Snaps on “Cheesy Crims”!
Last night in a sting operation the police captured all but the very last of the “Cheesy Crims.” Under the guidance of the RWCA a trap was baited with a humanely tethered cheese to capture the last of the miscreants that have been terrorizing our local cheeses. At around 9:15 p.m. a small mob headed toward the marshes in search of their poor victims, but were surprised when they fell into a covered pit. The police then tried to arrest the mob. In the melee one particularly evil “Cheesy Crim” managed to escape.
“We chased him into the woods, but he disappeared down a trotting-badger hole and escaped. We would have followed him, but it was felt that there was too great a risk of badger attack, so orders were given to hold back.
“We did, however, get a good look at him and have published a description.”
The man is described as sprightly, about seventy years old, some 5” 7’ tall, with a thick beard, and wearing a tartan dressing gown with a woolly hat.
Here at the Gazette we are offering a reward of 2,000 groats for the capture of this last scoundrel.
Guillemot’s twenty-four-hour beach supermarket.
chapter 33
THE SUPERMARKET
Guillemot closed and locked the doors of the twenty-four-hour beach supermarket at seven p.m. He’d had enough. It had been a hard day at the till, and even with the mirrors placed around the store and a sharp eye, Guillemot had lost at least three shopping baskets, two boxes of postcards, and various other small items. This was not how he had thought his life on a south-sea paradise was going to be.
After a quick meal made up of the latest date-expired food items, he climbed the steps to the roof. Here he would sit, watch the sun go down, and use the last of the light to prepare his catapult for anybody who tried to break in.
Once the sun set, he relied on burglar alarms and traps to dissuade the intruders. These worked so well that he’d not lost any stock for three nights.
Guillemot poured himself a large coconut cocktail and sat back to wait for the first of the burglars. As he sipped, he daydreamed of getting away from this miserable island, perhaps retiring to a little country cottage in England and never having to deal with shoplifters again. Then his attention turned to how the attack would come tonight.
“They’re so unimaginative. I wish they would come up with something original.”
The bush ran away cursing.
A bush moved slowly across the sands toward the supermarket.
“Not again!” he muttered as he took a coconut from a large pile by his sun-lounger and fired it at the bush. There was a scream and the bush ran away cursing.
“And I hope your nest is struck by lightning!” he called back.
He took another sip and sat back to wait for the next attempt. After his alarm had gone off three times, and he had emptied the trap pits twice, he managed to get an hour’s sleep.
Then something woke him. He felt uneasy, but was not sure why, as the alarms were silent and there were no signs of bushes.
He looked over the edge of his stockade. No one was trying to tunnel in, and the traps were empty.
“Something’s up. I just know it.”
After wandering around the store he climbed back on the roof and sat down again. Then he saw it. Coming toward the island was the monster the cabbage islanders used to scare off outsiders.
“I wonder what they want?” Then he smiled. “Maybe they want to buy something!” He put down his catapult and decided to go down to meet his possible customers.
The monster was on the beach and had come to a st
op by the time Guillemot reached it. He was now rubbing his hands at the thought of making some money.
The small door opened and started to disgorge some highly disreputable-looking characters. Most of them were soaked through and gasping for breath—clearly they had spent impressive amounts of time underwater while moving the monster through the sea. The largest and most ferocious-looking of them, a large man with an eye patch, had no such difficulties—he was not at all out of breath and was completely bone-dry—obviously, Guillemot thought, he must have stayed well out of trouble in the head of the monster.
As the men gathered themselves and began to recover from their underwater ordeal, Guillemot stared. They weren’t islanders! In fact, they looked English. Yes, he was sure of it. The pale skin, the miserable look, the dirty ill-fitting clothes. Yes! They must be his countrymen.
He rushed forward.
“Excuse me. Are you English?”
The large man with the eye patch looked him up and down. “Yes. And are you Guillemot of Guillemot’s Fairtrade botanicals and knickknacks?”
“Are you Guillemot of Guillemot’s Fairtrade botanicals and knickknacks?”
The islanders must have told these men of another of their countrymen. “Yes, sir. And who am I addressing?”
“One of your customers. Archibald Snatcher esquire.”
Guillemot was shocked and not sure quite what to do. It crossed his mind that Archibald Snatcher esquire had come to complain—but he had sent him his order of Black Cabbage Seeds, and the seeds really did what he said in his advertisements. He decided that it was best just to play along for the moment.
“At your service.”
“At your service,” said Guillemot, giving a bow. “Your order? It did arrive safely?”