Charlie in the Underworld

by Charlie Small

  Then came the sound of heavy footsteps, marching into the kitchen. I found a small gap at the edge of the rug and looked up through the narrow gaps between the boards. I saw a scruffer for the very first time; what a scary sight he was!

  I could see why Ma and Tom were so afraid of him. From his high plumed hat to his gleaming black boots, his uniform said just one thing: bully!

  ‘Where is ’e?’ demanded the scruffer.

  ‘Where’s who?’ asked Ma innocently.

  ‘I saw a boy run in ’ere. A boy off the mudflats, out after curfew.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean, I’m sure,’ said Ma.

  ‘Then you won’t mind me ’aving a look round, will ya?’

  ‘Be my guest, but you won’t find anything,’ said Ma.

  The Scruffer Searches For Tom

  The scruffer stormed around the kitchen, flinging open cupboards and emptying their contents onto the floor.

  ‘If I find ’im, it’ll be straight to the mines with ’im for a spot of ’ard labour,’ growled the obnoxious oaf. He searched the pantry, pulling empty cartons and boxes off the shelves, muttering and swearing to himself all the time. His heavy boots scraped and clumped on the floorboards, just inches above our heads.

  ‘Keep quiet,’ Tom whispered to me, ‘or we’ll be in dead trouble.’

  I didn’t need telling twice. What would happen if we were hauled away by this cretinous creature didn’t bear thinking about.

  Not finding anything in the kitchen, the scruffer stormed upstairs, and again we heard banging and crashing as he searched the bedrooms.

  ‘Who sleeps in the top room?’ he asked, stomping back downstairs.

  ‘My son,’ Ma told him.

  ‘And why ain’t ’e at ’ome right now? You know it’s against the law to be out after nine o’clock.’

  ‘He’s staying with a friend,’ said Ma. ‘That’s not against the law as well now, is it?’

  The scruffer growled, ‘I’m sure I saw ’im come in ’ere.’

  ‘Well, you were wrong, weren’t you,’ replied Ma. ‘Now if you’ve quite finished, I’d like to get to bed.’

  ‘Who sleeps there?’ demanded the man, pointing at my tangle of sheets on the sofa.

  ‘Oh, er, I’ve been sleeping there,’ said Ma, thinking quickly. ‘I’ve had a chill and spent a few nights in front of the fire. Satisfied?’

  ‘Not really,’ he said, marching to the door. ‘I ’aven’t been able to find anythin’, but I know you’ve been up to somethin’. I’ll be keepin’ an eye on you, missus, so be warned.’ And with that, he marched out into the street, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘All clear,’ said Ma after a few minutes. She pulled up the hatch and Tom and I climbed back into the kitchen.

  ‘Phewee! What fun,’ said Tom, and burst out laughing. ‘Well done, Charlie. I knew I could trust you! Tomorrow I’ll bring a friend of mine to meet you. We can tell you everythin’ that’s been going on in Subterranea and see if we can come up with a plan to find your friend.’

  Brilliant! That’s more like it; maybe it won’t be too long before I find Jakeman and continue my journey.

  Eliza

  Tom was as good as his word, and the next day he arrived home with a girl by his side. She was about seven years old, short and slight, and dressed in muddy rags.

  She was obviously a mudskipper too, and in her hand she carried a collecting bag for her finds on the mudflats. It oozed a thick dribble of sludge that dripped down her ragged dress. She had the same grey skin and large, round head that all the Subterraneans seem to have, with a small, determined mouth and big bright eyes.

  ‘This is Charlie Small, who I’ve been tellin’ you about,’ said Tom. ‘Charlie, this is my best pal and fellow mudskipper, Eliza.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Eliza,’ I said.

  ‘Likewise, I’m sure,’ said Eliza, staring curiously at my pink face.

  ‘She’s the one who saw the stranger bein’ taken to the castle,’ explained Tom.

  My heart leaped. ‘Did you manage to get a good look at him?’ I asked.

  ‘All I can tell you is that ’e was a small, pink, whiskery old man,’ said the muddy girl. ‘Some scruffers took ’im there, but I don’t know what ’appened to ’im after that.’

  ‘That’s got to be Jakeman,’ I cried. ‘But how on earth am I going to find him if the scruffers ’have got him?’

  ‘Well, I might be able to ’elp you there. I know a secret way into the castle,’ said Tom.

  ‘You do?’ I cried. ‘Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!’

  ‘ ’Old your ’orses,’ said Tom. ‘First you need to know what’s been going on in Subterranea and what we’re up against.’

  ‘The bad stuff that’s happened?’

  ‘The bad stuff,’ said Tom, pulling up a chair for Eliza and sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire.

  This was it! At last I was going to find out exactly what was going on in Subterranea. And Tom was right – it was really bad …

  The Bad Stuff

  As Ma busied herself at the kitchen range, sorting and preparing Tom’s finds for our dinner, my two muddy friends explained how life in Subterranea had changed for the worse.

  ‘It all started when the King got ’imself a new adviser,’ said Tom. ‘Before that ’e was really nice and everyone was ’appy. I went to school with all me mates, and Ma curled feathers to go on posh ’ats. And food? Oh, we ’ad loads of food. Every week, carts piled high with vegetables from the allotments would line up in the square. Things were great.’

  ‘Then, one day, this new chap arrived on the scene,’ said Eliza. ‘We don’t know where ’e came from, but ’e’s really creepy. ’E wears a long black coat and a wide black hat and covers ’is face with a spooky metal mask. All we know about ’im is that ’e’s secretive and scary, and ’e’s got some sort of ’old over our poor King. Everyone calls him the Shadow. ’E’s absolutely vile!’

  Ooo-err! I didn’t like the sound of this, and a cold shudder went zigzagging down my spine.

  The Shadow

  ‘Some people think ’e wears a mask because ’e’s really an ’orrible robot,’ said Tom. ‘We reckon it’s because ’e’s an outsider and ’e’s trying to ’ide ’is pink skin. That’s why I was a bit suspicious of you at first; I thought you might ’ave somethin’ to do with ’im.’

  ‘Oh, thanks a million!’ I said. ‘Do I look like the side-kick of a vile, flesh-crawling creep?’

  ‘Na, you’re OK,’ said Tom, grinning. Then he became very serious again. ‘I don’t think you realize just what a downright bad-’un the Shadow is. As soon as ’e turned up, the King started passin’ really strict laws, and everythin’ in Subterranea turned bad.’

  ‘Really bad,’ said Eliza. ‘The very first thing ’e did was set up the scruffers, to keep us all in order. You know how nasty they can be.’

  ‘Then ’e formed the Trog Guard, an army of the most vicious Troglodytes ’e could find,’ continued Tom. ‘ ’E ordered ’em to invade Barbaria, their very own country, and capture all the remainin’ Trogs and turn ’em into slaves!’

  ‘Big pig!’ said Eliza.

  ‘Really, Eliza! Language please,’ said Ma, stirring something smelly in a large pot on the stove.

  ‘Well, ’e bloomin’ well is,’ said Eliza. ‘ ’E makes the poor Trog slaves dig and dig all day long, minin’ the precious light from our cavern rock – but what for? It all seems so pointless!’

  ‘Now, all the food from our allotments goes to feed the Shadow’s henchmen,’ said Tom. ‘The tiny bit that’s left over is given to the slaves. That’s why we ’ave to scavenge for our food.’

  ‘That’s terrible! Why don’t the people of Subterranea do something about it?’ I asked naively. ‘Surely the King would listen if he’s as nice as you say.’

  ‘We’ve tried, of course we have,’ said Ma, getting upset and banging our knives and forks down on the table. ‘Some of the me
n went to the gates and demanded to be let in. They disappeared inside the castle … and that’s the last we ever saw of them!’

  ‘And these are the people that’ve got hold of your friend Jakeman,’ said Eliza.

  ‘Jeepers creepers! Poor old Jakeman; and poor old you! We’ve got to do something,’ I cried.

  ‘Yes, well, you can worry about that after dinner,’ said Ma. ‘Who’s for some Scrappy Stew?’

  Oh, blimey! I thought. What delicious delights go into Scrappy Stew?

  A Funny Find In My Dinner!

  Ma ladled some stew into our bowls. We knew it was made of Tom’s muddy finds, but we were really hungry and tucked in. It was nice – well, as nice as it could be!

  There were some bits of greenish meat (not more rat, I hope!) and I’m sure there was a grape or two floating in the gritty gravy. There were pieces of carrot and half a jam tart; an elastic band (that was quite nice) and something that looked just like a pig’s nose; but it was Eliza who discovered the most surprising ingredient.

  ‘What’s this?’ she asked, lifting her spoon out of the bowl. Hanging there, steaming and dripping with sauce, was a pair of spectacles!

  ‘Well, they’re not mine,’ said Ma.

  ‘I must’ve picked ’em up on the flats,’ said Tom.

  ‘Let’s have a look,’ I said, and Eliza passed them over. ‘Hey, these are Jakeman’s specs!’

  ‘That proves ’e’s in the castle,’ said Tom. ‘That’s where the drains come from.’

  ‘So how are we going to find him?’ I said.

  ‘I’ve got an idea …’ said Tom.

  Tom’s Story

  ‘I’ve been secretly visitin’ the castle, tryin’ to find out what’s goin’ on up there,’ continued Tom, talking with his mouth full. ‘There’s a quay nearby. It sticks out over the mudflats, on big wooden pillars. Right at the back where the mudflats meet the ’arbour wall are the openin’s to the big drains.

  ‘One day, when I was feelin’ brave, I decided to crawl up one of the drainpipes to see where it went. I came to a big metal grille, which I managed to loosen and crawl through. I found myself in a secret passage inside the castle walls!’

  ‘That’s incredible!’ I exclaimed.

  ‘It’s flippin’ fantastic,’ said Tom. ‘Lots of the walls have secret passages, and they go all over the castle. Look, I’ve drawn a plan so I don’t get lost.’ He pulled a filthy piece of paper from his pocket and showed it to me. This is just a bit of it (Tom gave me this as a souvenir; the rest got torn off):

  Secret Passages

  The walls inside the castle are hollow, making passages that skirt all round the rooms.

  ‘What do you do about going up and down stairs?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s the most amazin’ thing,’ said Tom. ‘If a corridor goes up some steps, the secret passage has steps too. You can wander up and down between all the floors. Well, most of the time, anyway. Sometimes you ’ave to climb out of an air vent and sneak along the castle corridors. But there’s always another grille that gets you back into the secret passage.’

  ‘What’s this big X for?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s the King’s throne room,’ said Tom.

  ‘Wow! Have you ever seen him?’

  ‘I’ve seen ’im,’ said Tom, ‘but I didn’t dare talk to ’im – there was a huge Trog guard outside the door.’

  ‘What I’d like to know is, what’s happened to the Queen?’ said Ma suddenly. ‘No one’s seen her for ages.’

  ‘There’s no sign of ’er in the castle,’ said Tom.

  ‘Oh, dearie me! What is going on up there?’ cried Ma, getting agitated again. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Ma, we’ll think of something,’ said Tom. ‘Won’t we, Lize?’

  Eliza’s Story

  ‘What we need is a mutiny!’ said Eliza, chewing extra hard on a piece of gristle. ‘I’ve been meetin’ with the Trog slaves in secret. They sleep in a big hollow in the ground, all shackled together. Some nights, I creep past the guards and clamber down into the Trogs’ crater. I’ve been tryin’ to persuade ’em to stand up to the Shadow’s cronies, and fight.’

  ‘You must be crackers, creeping about in craters after curfew!’ said Ma.

  ‘How do you speak to the Trogs?’ I asked. ‘They only seem to know one word – Man-cha!’

  ‘I’ve been tryin’ to teach ’em English, but they ’ave trouble sayin’ the words. So I made up a really simple sign language. Now we understand each other fine,’ said Eliza. ‘They’re really clever, and they’re kind too.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, thinking once again that I had misjudged these poor creatures. ‘Are they willing to fight?’

  ‘They’re not ready yet. They’re scared to death of the Shadow,’ said Eliza. ‘If they just look at ’im funny, ’e ’as them thrown into the fiery pit to fry.’

  ‘Jumping Jehoshaphat!’ I cried. That’s what those bones were in the Spidion’s web.

  ‘They might fight if they ’ad some ’elp,’ said Eliza.

  ‘What if the townspeople were to join them?’ asked Ma. ‘I’m sure they’d love to help defeat the Shadow and his guards – especially if it means we’ll get our lovely King and Queen back.’

  ‘D’you think they would?’ asked Eliza. ‘I reckon that might make all the difference.’

  ‘We need a plan!’ I said, banging the table and making the salt and pepper pots jump. ‘A plan to crush the sinister Shadow and all his cronies!’

  ‘You bet,’ said Tom. ‘And this is what I think we should do –’

  All of a sudden there was a terrible clatter amongst the dustbins in the back yard. Tom leaped up.

  ‘Someone’s been listenin’,’ he said, and peered out of the window.

  ‘Who’s there?’ asked Ma, getting up herself and fiddling nervously with her apron. ‘Not a stupid scruffer, I hope.’

  ‘Phew!’ said Tom, turning round and giving us one of his widest grins. ‘Panic over! It was only a daft rockfox at the bins.’

  (Later on, Tom described a rockfox to me. I did this drawing, and he said it was pretty good!)

  A Plan And A Pact

  Ma drew the curtains and we all sat down again, huddling together around the table.

  ‘Here’s the plan,’ said Tom. ‘Charlie and I will go to the castle first thing tomorrow. We need to find out who the Shadow is and what sort of power ’e ’as over the King. Then we must find out what’s ’appened to the Queen and we need to locate your pal.’

  ‘If it is Jakeman in the castle, I’m sure he’ll lend a hand,’ I said. ‘He’s a brilliant inventor and might be able to come up with some sort of gadget to help us.’

  ‘And then we might ’ave ourselves a mutiny!’

  ‘I’ll pass the word round the neighbourhood that the time to make a stand is getting near,’ said Ma.

  ‘And I’m goin’ to sneak back to see the slave Trogs tonight and tell ’em to be prepared,’ said Eliza. ‘This is excitin’; somethin’ big might be about to ’appen!’

  ‘Agreed?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Agreed!’ we replied. Then we spat on our hands and clasped them together to seal our pact. Even good old Ma!

  Now I’m lying in bed, trying to get some sleep before our big day tomorrow. It’s not easy: I’m only just starting to realize what I’ve agreed to! I’m going to creep inside a castle, where a mysterious, shadowy enemy holds sway over the whole of the Underworld. I’m going to try and help start a revolution! Goodness knows what will happen if the Shadow gets hold of us …

  A Cunning Disguise!

  Next morning, after a breakfast of bread crusts and fried bacon rind, Tom took me out to their little back yard. It stood in a pool of light from the glowing rock sky, and was hemmed in by the great grey walls of the surrounding houses.

  Ma kept the yard spotlessly clean, and stacked on all sides were wooden tubs filled with a mass of colourful flowers. Tom reached into one of the containers and pulled out a han
dful of rich, smelly soil.

  ‘Spread this over your face,’ he said.

  ‘You must be joking,’ I replied. ‘Why would I want to do that?’

  ‘To hide your skin, o’ course. All Subterraneans ’ave grey skin. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb with your pink face, and if a scruffer sees you, you’ll be in real trouble.’

  ‘Ah! If you put it like that …’ I said, kneeling down. I collected handfuls of mud and covered my face and hands. I rubbed it into my hair until it was as dark as Tom’s, and soon you couldn’t tell us apart. ‘Perfect,’ said Tom with a grin. ‘Let’s get goin’.’

  Down On The Flats

  Poor old Ma looked very worried when we said cheerio.

  ‘Oh, do be careful, boys,’ she said, wringing the tea towel in her hands. ‘I hate the thought of you sneaking into that dangerous place. It’s like creeping into a lion’s den! Don’t do anything silly, and don’t be late for tea.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be all right,’ said Tom confidently. ‘I been there before. What could possibly go wrong?’

  I followed Tom out into the narrow alleyway that ran between the houses. If I’d had my wits about me, I should have guessed something would go wrong, because that’s almost exactly what Mum said to me, about four hundred years ago, when I first left to go out on my raft.

  Turning left and right, I followed Tom down one lane after another, past rows of houses and tiny, open-fronted stores. The lanes were thronged with people, but the food stores were empty, and I understood why Tom had resorted to scavenging on the mudflats.

  The winding streets of Subterranea were like one of those mazes you get in activity books; the kind where you have to find the route that leads to some treasure or something, and I knew that if I lost sight of Tom for an instant, I would never find my way back to his house again.