Fudge was sprinting over the sand with a heavy rope.
Blackeye grabbed it from him and tied one end around his middle. “You'll have to hold me, buddy,” he said.
Fudge nodded and tied the other end around himself. Soon more hands were on the rope. Everyone wanted to help with the pulling.
Blackeye waded into the water and started to swim. Farther and farther he went, battling against the waves, swimming toward Mouse. He could feel the water seeping into his wooden flesh. He was growing heavier by the minute. He swam on, turning his head from side to side as he looked for her. But every stroke was an effort. The saltwater stung his eyes and it was dark now. So dark.
But there she was. Floating on the water. Limp and lifeless. A piece of flotsam. Driftwood. Deadwood. Mouse.
Blackeye swam to her, threw himself high above the waves and seized her. “Pull!” he shouted, and the rope tightened as the tiddlins hauled them in.
Shooosh! Blackeye bounced over the waves backwards, with Mouse held tightly in his arms. He didn't let go till they were back on the beach, sprawled on the sand like a pair of starfish. Only when the tiddlins took her from him did he close his eyes and allow himself to relax.
But not for long. As Fudge began untying the rope, Blackeye opened his eyes, sat up and looked for Mouse. The tiddlins were crouched around her. She wasn't moving.
Blackeye crawled over, pushed his way into the circle and took Mouse's body in his arms. “Mouse,” he said. “Mouse. Can you hear me?”
Nothing. But suddenly her eyelids were flickering … opening … and Blackeye was looking into her warm, loving eyes.
Mouse nodded, very gently, and smiled up at him. And in that moment, Blackeye thought her smile was the brightest point in a dark, dark world. Carefully, he helped her to her feet, but Mouse was so wet she couldn't walk. So he picked her up and carried her up the beach, out of the storm and into the safety of the store caves.
The tiddlins followed, noisily wondering at Blackeye's bravery. The ship was forgotten; nothing could be done anyway. They would have to see what the morning would bring.
Only Snowbone remained on the beach. She watched the tiddlins dancing over the black sand. “It's like a walking wedding,” she said, and, with a smile, she followed on behind.
Chapter 13
y morning, the storm had passed. The tiddlins emerged from the store cave and found a warm, welcoming day. The air was tangy with the taste of the sea. The birds had reclaimed the sky. Everything seemed right with the world.
But down on the beach, it was another story. A scene of complete and utter devastation greeted the tiddlins when they returned to camp. The black sand was strewn with all kinds of debris thrown up by the sea. Mounds of seaweed, scuttling with crabs. Dead birds. Driftwood. Endless wreckage from the stricken ship: barrels, timbers, ropes, sailcloth, furniture, tools, bodies. So many dead bodies. Goats, chickens, rats … and sailors. Dozens of drowned sailors. Some on the beach, some in the water. The gulls were feasting.
The tiddlins walked among them, anxiously searching for familiar faces from the Mermaid. But these men didn't look like pirates. Then Fudge found the ship's nameplate, Tamberlory, and the wondering was over.
“We can't leave them lying here like this,” said Tigermane. “The birds are pecking them to bits.”
Snowbone thought for a moment. “I don't want to burn them,” she said. “The smoke might attract attention. We'll have to bury them. Blackeye, find some shovels and spades. Organize some diggers. We'll bury them over there, behind the rocks. Tigermane, check the shelters. See if they need repairing. The rest of you can comb the beach. Anything worth salvaging can go to the store cave.”
The tiddlins went about their work and Snowbone turned her attention to the wreckage. A waistcoat, with shiny buttons. A bent spoon. A broken mop handle. Nothing of use except—
What was happening? Such a commotion farther down the beach! Ten, twenty tiddlins were standing around something, jostling each other, talking all at once. As Snowbone ran toward them, she could hear Fudge's voice above the rest: “Bring a crowbar!” And suddenly Two Teeth was dashing to fetch something.
“What is it?” said Snowbone, elbowing her way forward.
It was a wooden chest. A fine-looking thing, made from dark, polished wood with a hinged lid.
“It's a treasure chest!” said Fudge, unable to contain his excitement. “It's locked but it's heavy. It is soooo heavy.”
Snowbone knelt down and examined it closely. There were two golden padlocks on the front, holding the lid firmly down.
“He's back!” cried a voice, and the crowd parted to let Two Teeth through. He handed Snowbone the crowbar; she handed it to Fudge. She would look a right fool if she couldn't force the locks. Fudge was stronger. Let him try.
Fudge was only too willing. There was treasure in that chest and nothing was going to stop him having it. He attacked the locks like a gorilla, with a grunt and a heave, and—poing! poing!—the padlocks snapped right off. Fudge threw open the lid—and there was no treasure. There was a boy. A human boy, quite naked except for a piece of cloth tied round his loins. He was packed in so tightly, he couldn't move if he wanted to. But more than this, he was bound. His hands and feet had been tied together with lengths of silver cord.
And with a supreme effort, the boy turned his head, looked straight at Snowbone and whispered two words: “Help me.”
Chapter 14
hile Snowbone was standing on the beach, gazing down at the bound boy, Figgis the tinker was repairing a broken window. In the night, the storm had ripped a fence post out of the ground and hurled it at the house like a spear. The post had smashed through the window and fallen at Figgis's feet.
“It's lucky you slowed it down,” said Figgis to the window as he knocked out the broken glass. “If you hadn't, I'd have been skewered like a sausage on a barbecue.”
He held the new glass up to the frame to see if it would fit. As he did, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. One of the bushes was moving.
“Who's that?” he asked himself. “Snowbone? She's mighty shy this morning.”
He put down the glass and looked around. The forest was quiet, basking in the late-autumn sunshine. But suddenly there was a mad flutter of wings and a pheasant fled into the trees.
“Come out!” called Figgis. “I know you're there.”
Nothing moved. But Figgis could feel a decision was being made somewhere among the trees. Then the bushes slowly parted and out came … a lad. A tall human lad with extraordinarily blue eyes. And behind him a black-haired man. Figgis started to suspect there might be others still hiding.
“Mornin',” said the blue-eyed lad with a curt nod.
“So it is,” returned Figgis.
“We were just passing,” said the lad.
Scouting more like, thought Figgis. These are slave traders. No question about it.
“Do you have any water?” said the black-haired man.
Figgis nodded and pointed to a barrel at the side of the house. The man walked over to it, cupped his hands and drank. Figgis noticed the man had a water flask attached to his belt, but he didn't refill it.
“We'll be on our way, then,” said the man, wiping his wet hands on the seat of his britches.
“Right,” said Figgis. “Safe journey.”
The man nodded and headed off into the forest, trailed by the lad. Figgis stood where he was, waiting to see if any more men would show themselves. They didn't.
But when he went inside, he watched from the window and, within a minute, four more traders emerged from the undergrowth and followed on behind.
“What can they want?” said Figgis as he set the kettle on the stove. “They're not likely to find eggs out here. Ah! Are they looking for the kids?”
Figgis glanced out of the window again. He hoped Snow-bone would turn up soon. He needed to warn her. The slavers would return.
Chapter 15
ack at the beach, Snowbon
e tipped up the chest and threw the boy out onto the black sand.
“Snowbone!” cried Mouse. “Be careful!”
“How else did you think we'd get him out?” said Snowbone. “He was as tight as a fat man's sock.”
Mouse still wasn't happy. “You didn't have to be quite so rough,” she said. “You'll cover him in bruises.”
“He has those already,” said Blackeye, looking at the thin body sprawled on the sand. He reached into his pocket, took out a knife and began to cut the silver cords.
“He's so tall,” said Tigermane. “How did they get him in there?”
No one answered. They were too busy wondering why he was in there.
Once the ropes were cut, the boy tried to stretch out his legs. But he had been in the chest so long, his muscles had completely seized up. He groaned and his face puckered with pain.
“This is going to take some time,” said Snowbone. “We'll carry him up to the shelters. Tigermane, run to the store cave and fetch some blankets. Blackeye, take his legs. Two Teeth, take his body.”
And so they carried the boy up the beach to the shelters. There he was laid upon a bed and given water. He drank deeply, then wet his hands and wiped them over his face. He whispered his thanks and smiled weakly. Then he closed his eyes and slept—a deep, safe sleep—while the tiddlins watched and waited and wondered. Who? What? Why?
The sun was setting by the time the strange boy awoke. He was feeling much better. His limbs ached but he could move them. He was ravenously hungry and readily devoured three bowls of soup. Mouse was thrilled—she had spent the whole afternoon making it. The boy didn't know how honored he was; Mouse had never made soup before. The pirate wives had taught her how, but the tiddlins were so wary of fire, they still ate everything raw.
But the boy was human. Mouse had realized that when night came, he would be cold. He would need warm clothing and nourishing food. So she had rummaged in the store cave for a bundle of clothes, and gathered armfuls of vegetables. Tigermane had collected wood and together, very carefully, they had built a fire in the middle of the meeting circle. And that evening, as the boy sat by the fire, snug in his woolen jacket and britches, his fingers cradling another bowl of soup, the tiddlins gathered round and he told his story.
“I am Manu, High Prince of Balaa,” he said proudly. “I am fourteen years old, and right now, I should be sitting in a palace—”
“You should be dead,” said Snowbone.
Manu stared at her, completely taken by surprise. Then he smiled. “You're right,” he said. “You saved my life. I couldn't have lasted much longer.”
“Why were you in the chest?” said Snowbone.
“It's a long story,” said Manu.
“Shorten it,” said Snowbone.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Manu, clearly amused. He finished his soup and settled himself. “My story begins on the island of Balaa, where I was born. My father was Meru, king of Balaa. My mother was Arcana, his queen. I was their only child and they doted on me—especially my mother, I believe. But she died when I was one year old, and my father chose to remarry.
“His new wife was beautiful but ambitious. In the beginning, she tolerated me. But when I was eight years old, she gave birth to a boy, Jobi, and things began to change. My father was growing old, and my stepmother wanted Jobi to be king after him. But I was the heir to the throne. I was the firstborn. If Jobi were to be king, she would have to kill me first.”
“No!” gasped Mouse.
“Yes!” said Manu. “She had a servant, Enkola—a spiteful man—who had served her faithfully for years. He would do anything for her. Anything. So she told him to kill me. She didn't care how he did it. He could cut my throat, drown me in the river—anything, as long as I was out of the way.”
“No!” said Mouse again.
Snowbone dug her in the ribs. “Shut up!” she hissed. “We'll be here all night.”
“Enkola was a superstitious man,” said Manu, picking up the thread of the tale. “A very clever man. He studied the stars. He believed in omens. He believed in the eternal power of kings and he believed in destiny. And when Enkola looked to the stars for guidance that night, he saw a red moon. And he decided, there and then, that it was wrong to kill me. I was a prince. He had no right to determine my fate.
“And so he chose both to obey and to disobey the queen. In the dead of night, he stole into my bedchamber, as she had commanded, and put a wet cloth against my face. I awoke. I struggled and fought, kicked like a rabbit, but the cloth made me drowsy. Enkola carried me down to the beach. But he didn't kill me.
“He bound my hands and feet with cords and put me into the chest. All the while he gabbled on about omens and moons till I was quite dizzy. Then he slammed down the lid, fastened the padlocks and left me to my destiny. The tide carried me away … I drifted on the waves. For how long, I do not know. And then the storm carried me here.”
“You're making this up,” said Snowbone. “Kings. Wicked stepmothers. How stupid do you think we are? This is a fairy tale.”
“No,” said Manu. “It's true. I swear on my father's life.”
“Prove it,” said Snowbone.
Manu stared at her. “Why should I? I know it to be true.”
“So you have no proof?”
“I have this chain,” said Manu. He showed her a fine golden chain round his neck.
“Give it here,” said Snowbone.
“I can't,” said Manu.
“What do you mean, you can't?” said Snowbone. “Take it off and give it here.”
“I can't,” said Manu. “That's the whole point.”
He leaned toward her, too close for her liking. She felt his breath on her face and squirmed.
“Look,” said Manu, holding up the necklace. “There's no fastening.”
Snowbone looked closer and found it was true. She slid the slender chain through her fingers. It was exquisite. But there was no clasp—just a single, unbroken length of gold. “How did you get it on?” she said.
“I was born wearing it,” said Manu. “Only a prince of Balaa would be born with such a gift. This is my proof. Whether you choose to believe it or not is entirely up to you.”
Snowbone said no more.
“Have you ever tried to cut it?” said Blackeye.
“Enkola tried, before he put me in the box,” said Manu. “He had wire cutters, but they wouldn't cut through.”
“But it's so delicate!” said Mouse. “There's nothing to it!”
“I know,” said Manu proudly.
“Manu,” said Tigermane, “there's something I don't understand. Where does the Tamberlory fit in?”
Manu shook his head. “Now I don't understand!” he laughed. “What is the Tamberlory ?”
“It's a ship,” said Mouse. “It went down last night in the storm and the wreckage was washed up on the beach. We thought you were part of that.”
“No,” said Manu. “I was never aboard a ship! I was on my own out there, believe me.”
The tiddlins fell silent, imagining how that would feel. To be trapped in a box … with miles of ocean all around … night falling … a storm brewing … and no one coming to save you.
“Scary,” said Mouse with a shudder.
Manu smiled. “Terrifying,” he said. “Absolutely terrifying!”
Chapter 16
arly the next morning, while the tiddlins were still fussing over Manu like a new puppy, Snowbone slipped out of camp unnoticed. She strolled through the forest, enjoying the silence and the glorious day Sunlight was filtering through the leaf canopy, strewing her path with golden pennies of light. She felt rich indeed.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something. A fluffy gray bundle, plumped on the ground at the foot of a tree. Snowbone started to creep closer, wondering what it could be. Suddenly the bundle shook itself and sneezed. A pair of silver eyes opened, looked up at her and blinked.
“Oh!” cooed Snowbone. “It's a baby owl!”
Snowbone looked around, trying to find the owlet's mother. There was no sign of her—but there was a hole in the tree trunk above.
“Did you fall out of there?” said Snowbone, peering up. “Well, I can't put you back. I can't reach that high. And I can't leave you on the ground. A wolf will get you. No, I'll have to take you with me.”
Snowbone slipped the owlet inside her shirt and started to grin. She had an owl! How fantastic was that? She couldn't wait to see the faces of the other tiddlins when she showed it to them. They would be so envious! But they couldn't have one, oh, no! She was the leader. She was allowed to have special things, wasn't she? That's what being a leader was all about.
Snowbone walked on. But she hadn't taken more than ten steps when a deafening screech ripped through the forest and a furious owl attacked her from behind. It swooped down so low, she felt its talons drag through her hair. Then it landed on a branch in front and screeched full in her face.
“It's all right!” said Snowbone, pulling the owlet out from under her shirt. “It's all right! I wasn't stealing it—I was trying to look after it. You should be more careful with the poor little thing! You can't leave it lying on the ground like an old apple, you know. Forests are dangerous places.”
Reluctantly, Snowbone put the owlet back where she had found it and gave it one more stroke.
“I wish I could keep you,” she whispered, “but I can't.” And with a deep sigh, she turned and walked away, deeper into the forest.
When she reached the glade, Snowbone saw Figgis digging in the vegetable patch. As she approached, he spun round, holding the spade like a weapon. But when he saw who it was, the anger and fear fell away from his face and he lowered it.
“Who were you expecting?” said Snowbone.
“No one,” said Figgis wearily. He scanned the forest. “Are you on your own again?”
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