by Alex Milway
“The sneaky so-and-so . . . ,” said Emiline. “We were framed! And he let me come on this voyage knowing we’d be heading into trouble!”
“Ha!” laughed Drewshank. “What did you do to upset him?”
“Well, there was a Sharpclaw that escaped from my care . . . .”
“A Sharpclaw!” replied Drewshank. “The one on my ship?”
Emiline shrugged. “But I didn’t think he knew about it.”
“Well, here we are anyway,” said Scratcher. “No point worrying about it now. We can just sit here, locked forever in an overgrown mouse toilet.”
“So then, cap’n,” said Scragneck, his piercing eyes glistening, “what ’ave you got planned? This fire rain ain’t up to much, but you know they’re just playing with us. They’ll be sending them mortars down on us soon.”
Mousebeard continued to stare out of the window: “While we’re here, we’re safe. They won’t do anything to harm those mice.”
“Those mice!” snapped Scragneck, lunging forward. “As nice as they are, they’re causin’ trouble amongst the crew.”
“Don’t play this game with me, man!” growled Mousebeard, his beard twisting uncontrollably as his voice grew louder. “We don’t go anywhere!”
“But, cap’n,” said Scragneck forcefully, “the crew ain’t so sure. Those letters they flew over ’ave got some of ’em thinking.”
Scragneck moved farther into the room, and his slight form cast a long shadow across the floor. Mousebeard turned sharply and his eyes met his first mate’s.
“Some of them?” snarled Mousebeard. “I know what you’re up to, Scragneck, and it won’t work.”
“Me, cap’n?” he said falsely, bringing his hand to his chest. “I’d never do such a thing to you, cap’n.”
“You’re a pirate, man. I know exactly what you’d do given half a chance.”
Scragneck reddened and his hand went to withdraw his sword.
“I’d snap you in two before it left your side,” said Mousebeard calmly. Scragneck’s thin lip twitched, and he lowered his hand.
“Well ’ear this, sir,” he countered. “Some o’ the crew think it’s best we make speed and outrun ’em. The giant will give us a head start, at least enough to get us on our way.”
“Have you no sense?” said Mousebeard angrily. “It will do us no good at all. They outnumber us in firepower by a hundred to one. We might outrun the ships, but we would never beat the cannons.”
Scragneck snapped once more. “Rubbish, captain! The Shark’s better than that.”
Mousebeard’s eyes bored into Scragneck’s.
“We will not leave this island!” he shouted. “And you’ll see to it that the rest of the crew understand that.”
Scragneck scowled, and took a few paces backward. “Your command over the Shark is not as strong as ya think, captain!”
“You think you’d do better?”
Scragneck stood in heated silence.
“I asked if you’d do better?” growled Mousebeard.
The men stared at each other. Each was tempted to move, but it was Scragneck whose will broke first. He stepped back farther and, knowing no other course of action, withdrew his sword and pointed it at Mousebeard.
“You’d better watch ya back!” Scragneck said savagely, and stormed out of the room.
Mousebeard slammed his hand down onto the table, which splintered and cracked along its width. He dragged his fingers along the broken wood, swearing under his breath.
After a few moments his breathing slowed, he sighed, and his shoulders dropped. Turning to look through the window, Mousebeard saw the huge far-off shape of Ogruk. His friend was peering out to sea over the side of the cliff, unperturbed by the raining droplets of fire. The giant swatted them off his clothes like gnats, making a mockery of the navy’s firepower.
“Oh, Ogruk,” he said quietly. “What is happening to my island?”
Mousebeard knew that Ogruk wouldn’t stay much longer. Even though they were friends, the giant hated human conflict and would do whatever he could to stay as far away from it as possible. The pirate feared his hand was going to be played too soon, and Scragneck would get his chance to strike.
The Golden Mouse
ONE OF THE MOST RECOGNIZED MICE IN THE WORLD, THE EXCEPTIONALLY rare Golden Mouse has fur consisting of fine strands of pure gold. Found only in the forests of Illyria, this mouse is revered by the natives as an incarnation of their sun god. Its fur has been the subject of lengthy debate among governments, particularly over the terrible effect it would have on the price of the world’s natural gold if anyone were effectively to harvest it as a sustainable source.
MOUSING NOTES
The Golden Mouse is protected by international law and countless Mousing Regulations, and can never be traded, removed from Illyria, kept in captivity, or killed for its fur. To own or pursue ownership of a Golden Mouse is a crime punishable by death. The International Mousehunting Federation sets its strictest rules for this rodent, and defends its right to survival with every power at its disposal.
The Mutinous Crew
NIGHT FELL ON GIANT ISLAND, HERALDING THE HOWLS and whoops of nocturnal mice. The Dung Mouse pen was finally silent; the pirate crew of the Silver Shark were holed up on land, drinking the night away; and Mousebeard sat at his desk watching the Golden Mice. He was angry at finding himself in this position, and he was angry at not seeing to Scragneck while he had the chance. Mousebeard rarely slept more than a few hours a night. His mind was continually alive with thoughts and schemes, and he hated to waste time sleeping. Besides, as a pirate, it was always good to sleep with one eye open just in case someone took a dislike to you.
As well as the flaming missiles falling all around, mortars were exploding on the volcano’s rim. Lord Battersby’s warships were destroying the cliffs, rock by rock, with the clear intention that no mortars should fall into the volcano itself for fear of hurting anyone or anything.
On top of the noise of the bombardment, the loud footsteps of Ogruk could be heard pacing around the island. He was becoming restless, and eventually Mousebeard heard him approaching the lagoon. His footsteps stopped, and the pirate leaned back in his chair as the walls of his room began to shake. The flat ceiling shuddered and tilted upward, and with a loud crunching noise it was lifted off to show the giant standing high above and the night sky stretching beyond. Holding the roof between two fingers, Ogruk crouched down and pushed his other fist into the lagoon to steady himself.
Ogruk’s head, still a long way above the fortress, filled the open ceiling. Mousebeard could see warts and scars upon the giant’s leathery skin, and with each breath Ogruk made, it was as though a hurricane had been unleashed in his room.
“Mousebeard,” said the giant very loudly, his rounded teeth and enormous tongue visible in the dark, “it’s time I moved on. Those ships are destroying everything and, as you know, I choose not to fight.”
“When will you leave?” shouted Mousebeard, knowing that the giant found it hard to hear him.
“Tonight,” boomed Ogruk, his voice rattling the windows. “I’m fed up with all this.”
Mousebeard twisted his beard. It was the worst news he could have had.
“I understand,” he said. “Will you still take us out to sea?”
“Of course,” replied the giant with little emotion. “I hold no hatred for you. One day we shall meet again under better circumstances.”
“I’ll get everyone ready then,” said the pirate. “Thank you, Ogruk.”
With a slow nod that sent his tousled hair spilling down over his face, Ogruk placed the roof down gently and walked off to the edge of the island.
“I’m an idiot,” growled Mousebeard, looking around at his room and realizing he might never see it again. “All this is lost. . . . ”
He collected his blunderbuss, pistols, and cutlass, letting out growls as the will took him. He pulled on his thick woolen jacket, strapped his belt across his chest, and grab
bed the mousebox containing the Golden Mice. When the time came to face the navy, and he knew it would happen sooner rather than later, then he’d do it fully armed.
Mousebeard left his room and stepped cautiously down the staircase. It was a long walk to the ground floor, passing numerous entrances to other rooms and halls, all of which seemed quiet and unoccupied. Eventually he reached the bottom, where a worn-out pirate stood on guard. His upright spear rose and dipped as each nod of his head sent him closer to sleep. Mousebeard made a gruff reprimand, and the guard jumped to attention to unbolt the massive door in the gateway.
The cool evening welcomed Mousebeard with the sound of peaceful lapping water. He stood quietly for a moment, noting the respite in the navy’s attack while watching the rippling lagoon through the cracks in the walkway. The gangplank onto the Silver Shark stretched out before him, and he made his way toward it. Mousebeard felt something creeping up behind him, like a shadow falling over his heart. He turned around and saw Scragneck, and immediately drew himself up.
“I don’t remember calling for you!” said Mousebeard angrily.
“So we’re leavin’, are we?” said Scragneck, tapping his sword menacingly in the palm of his hand. “He’s not terrible discreet that giant of yours — havin’ a mouth the size of a ship an’ all!”
“You got what you wanted,” replied Mousebeard, stepping toward Scragneck ominously, “so go and tell the men we’re sailing in the next hour. Sober them up with a cold shower too; this journey ahead of us could well be our last.”
“Ah, but cap’n, this journey ain’t goin’ to be our last . . . .”
Mousebeard heard shuffling behind him, and two pirates grabbed at his arms. He lashed out with anger as the Golden Mice were snatched from his grasp.
“You blasted fools,” he growled. He managed to free a hand and reached for his cutlass.
“It ain’t no good resisting, cap’n. I decided I didn’t want to swing wiv ya after all.” Scragneck’s sword shot out and rested under Mousebeard’s jaw.
The other pirates soon regained their nerve and raised their swords at his back and chest. Mousebeard could feel the sharp points pressing into him like the clutches of an iron maiden. He didn’t care, though — he sensed his battle with Scragneck was going to be the least of his worries now.
“You’ll send us to our death,” growled Mousebeard, dropping his weapons to the ground, smoke still lifting from the blunderbuss. “The Old Town Guard will never let you go free. You’re all walking into a trap the size of the Great Sea!”
“Ah, but, cap’n,” said the scheming Scragneck, “you’re forgetting that the Shark will be under my control!”
Mousebeard looked at the mutinous pirate, and cursed himself for ever keeping him in his crew. Scragneck’s mind was clouded by his lust for power. Mousebeard breathed heavily, pushing his chest out forcefully, making the pirates’ swords bend.
“Well, come on then . . . ,” he said, his dark eyes still angry. “What are you waiting for?”
Scragneck smiled.
“Get ’im, boys!” he snarled.
Because of the sheer size and power of Mousebeard, it took five pirates to tie him up. They took his bulging arms and bound them three times over for security. His huge palms clenched and unclenched as the bonds constricted the feeling in his hands. His beard bristled.
“Stick ’im in the brig and clap ’im in irons. I’m the captain now.” Scragneck turned. “Don’t try anythin’, Mousebeard!” he said, as the other pirates tried to jostle the big man up the gangplank with little success. Mousebeard was keen to walk as slowly and heavily as he could.
“Now’s not the time,” he replied caustically. “I’ll need my strength for when the Silver Shark is sinking!”
Once Mousebeard had been taken aboard ship, Miserley strolled out of the boat with her head held high.
“I’ve sent a message to the navy. That Battersby’s expecting us,” she said.
“Good. Let’s be prepared. Get as many guns as possible on top deck. And get that Drewshank on board; somethin’ makes me think he’ll be useful. Leave the others, particularly them kids, to rot in the mouse pen. That’ll teach ’em!”
Miserley set off into the dark.
“Cap’n of the Silver Shark!” said Scragneck quietly. “Who’d ’a’ thought?”
Emiline lay awake on a hard and uncomfortable bunk. The Dung Mice were snoring loudly, as was Fenwick, and she was finding it impossible to sleep.
She’d heard the gunshot, but being used to the explosions from the navy, she hadn’t thought anything of it. At least not until the door to the pen burst open.
There, on the threshold, was Miserley, standing confidently in her tight gray jacket with her hands on her hips. Her long hair swooped down over her eyes as she surveyed the bleary-eyed prisoners. Five pirates appeared from behind her and pulled Drewshank out into the jungle, scattering Dung Mice in the process. The prisoners jumped to their feet, and Emiline found herself charging through the door at Miserley. Emiline pushed her to the floor, but before Miserley had the chance to draw her daggers another pirate had kicked the prisoner back into the pen.
“Get away, girl,” he barked.
Miserley lifted herself off the floor and shook dirt from her hair. Drewshank laughed, as did all the prisoners, but they soon fell quiet as the door slammed shut and the key turned in the lock.
“That’s it for you lot,” shouted Miserley, banging the door. “There’s no way out now. We’re leaving the island and letting you rot here with these disgusting mice.”
Fenwick ran to the door and shoved it with his shoulder. “Captain!” he shouted through the bars.
Drewshank stumbled as his hands were grabbed and tied in front of him.
“Fenwick?” he shouted back bewildered. He looked back at the pen as he was pulled along. After the events of the past few weeks, he’d thought nothing could shock him anymore. But he was wrong.
“What’s going on?” he said, wearily.
“You’re being handed over to the navy. They want Mousebeard and the Golden Mice, and we thought we’d throw you in as well,” said Miserley, sniggering.
“You really are most despicable,” said Drewshank. “Don’t you realize they’ll either kill you or hang you high at Old Town?”
Miserley jabbed him in the ribs with her dagger handle.
“Lord Battersby has given us his word that we won’t be harmed.”
“Battersby!” exclaimed Drewshank. He suddenly stood still, causing the pirate in front to almost fall over. “Of course!”
“You know him?”
“Something like that . . . ,” said Drewshank. “What have you gotten us all into?”
Miserley’s temper exploded. “Shut up!” she shouted.
Drewshank fell silent, and resigned himself to whatever lay ahead. At least he now knew why he’d been chosen as bait for Mousebeard. There had never been any love lost between him and Battersby.
“Are you ready?” boomed Ogruk.
Scragneck stepped out onto deck and signaled his intentions. The giant looked down at the ship quizzically.
“Where’s Mousebeard?” he boomed.
“Sortin’ out a few things below deck!” replied the new captain. “He wanted you to carry us out of the volcano.”
Ogruk frowned and looked at the tiny, insignificant Scragneck. He was utterly weary of the humans and their worthless battles, but his promise to Mousebeard still stood. The giant sighed, sending low waves rippling across the lagoon. Then he bent down and plucked the Silver Shark from the water.
In just a few long steps, Ogruk reached the rim of the volcano, and clambered up its side. The giant surveyed the flickering white lights onboard the many ships bobbing up and down on the surrounding sea. The navy was ready and waiting.
Scragneck looked out uneasily at the view.
“Put us down then!” he shouted.
Ogruk looked again across the sea, and raised the Silver Shark to one of
his immense eyes. His flowing hair battered the hull like thousands of lashing whips, and as he spoke everyone struggled to keep on their feet for the force of his breath.
“Not here?” he rumbled. “Farther?”
“Yes, here! Put us down!” shouted Scragneck.
“But Mousebeard?” Ogruk said, taking a step down into the sea.
“This is what he wanted!” screamed the pirate, clutching hold of the ship’s rail. “You can put us down now, Ogruk!”
The giant grumbled as though his throat were full of thunder, and lowered the Silver Shark to the sea far below. His grip loosened, and the water took hold of the vessel.
Flares went shooting into the sky, lighting the moonless night, and Ogruk made his way out into the deep, releasing large rolling waves in his wake. As his massive shape grew fainter and more distant, he never looked back. With a crackle of explosions, harpooned ropes fired out into the hull of the Silver Shark — even its metal sides couldn’t withstand the brute force of the navy. Battersby had trained the guns of four huge warships onto the Silver Shark, their crews all ready for action. Bit by bit they drew in closer until the sailors were within shouting distance of the pirate ship.
On deck, Scragneck held his sword tightly, and ordered the rest of the pirates to draw their weapons.
“Are Mousebeard and Drewshank ready?” he shouted, turning to Miserley.
“They’re chained up and ready,” she replied. Her daggers, as ever, were primed for action, but she seemed restless. “I’ll get them brought up.”
Miserley went below deck and gave the signal to one of the pirates on guard. Mousebeard walked from the brig in silence, his wrists locked in irons behind his back. He proceeded up to the top deck with a grave look on his face, and every pirate he passed tried not to meet his eye. Drewshank was attached to him by a thick iron chain and struggled to shadow his steps.
Miserley watched them leave the lower deck, but didn’t follow. She walked to the empty stern of the ship and pushed aside a cabinet, which shunted as though on castors. Behind was a secret cupboard filled with weapons, food, and a barrel of fresh water. She took one look behind her to see that she hadn’t been followed, and then crept inside, concealing the entrance once more.