“I was almost caught!” Mutt growled, his heart racing.
“I told you there was a bit of risk,” King Leon wheezed. “Come on,” he said, running through a doorway onto a large, open deck.
The sudden scent of the big blue and the blast of fresh air in his face almost knocked Mutt over.
“Where’s… the land?” he gasped, feeling dizzy at the sight of so much water. There was nothing but the vast ocean in every direction.
Mutt crawled beneath a wooden deck chair, his head spinning and his stomach heaving as he realized that whether Alice was on board or not, there was no way off the great ship now. “I’m not sure this is a good idea after all,” he groaned.
King Leon scuttled beneath the chair beside him. “I thought you were starving.”
Mutt was about to say he’d suddenly lost his appetite, when he caught a delicious scent that made his mouth water, despite the queasy feeling in his stomach.
King Leon grinned. “You smell that?”
Mutt nodded. “What is it?”
“You think it smells good, wait till you taste it.” King Leon scurried to the next deck chair, then the next, pausing for a second to glance back at Mutt. The rat jerked his head forward, and Mutt followed, moving beneath the deck chairs for cover. They paused again as a pair of humans paraded past, but there was no scream this time. The humans seemed to be completely unaware that Mutt was there.
“How do you know your way around so well?” Mutt asked.
King Leon shrugged. “I’ve been on a lot of ships. Besides, rats just know these things—it’s like a sixth sense or something. If you ever find yourself in a bad situation, follow the rats.” He glanced around, then gestured to Mutt to follow. “This way.”
Mutt snorted. Follow the rats? He’d been doing exactly that, and so far it had gotten him into more trouble, not less. Although if King Leon was leading him to food, he supposed the risk would be worth it.
He followed King Leon beneath a wooden bench. They were so close that he could almost imagine what the food would taste like once he had it in his jaws. He was so focused on the food that he didn’t notice he had attracted some unwanted attention.
“What are you doing under there?”
Mutt jumped, banging his head against the underside of the bench. He turned and snarled at a tiny, fluffy dog not much bigger than King Leon.
“None of your business!” Mutt growled.
The little dog took a step closer, not sensing the warning beneath Mutt’s growl. This was clearly a dog who had never been in a fight in his entire life.
“Where’s your owner?” the dog asked, cocking his head to one side.
“She’s… somewhere on the ship. Now, get out of here,” Mutt growled again, baring his teeth in the hope that the dog would get the message. Normally Mutt would have given the dog a quick nip on the leg or rump to show him who’s boss, but he couldn’t afford to attract any more attention, especially not from the humans.
The dog sniffed, then narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you traveling in second class?”
Mutt glanced over at King Leon, who gestured wildly at him to ditch the tiny dog. “Yes,” Mutt lied.
“Fifi! Fifi, what are you doing under there?” a lady called out in a shrill voice.
Mutt couldn’t help giving a bark of a laugh. “Fifi? What kind of a name is that?”
But the tiny dog wasn’t paying attention to his owner—he was looking at Mutt’s dirty, matted fur and at the lack of collar around his neck, and his tiny eyes widened. “You’re a stowaway!” he barked loudly.
To the humans this would have sounded like a high-pitched yapping, but to Mutt it was a warning.
“Help!” the tiny dog yapped. “There’s a feral dog on board—it might have fleas!” He looked at Mutt again and snarled in disgust. “Or rabies!”
“Nah,” King Leon said, appearing beside Fifi, standing on his hind legs to make himself taller. “Mutt here doesn’t have rabies… but I might. You know, they said it was us rats who caused the Black Death.”
He snapped his teeth at the little dog and Fifi yelped, running off to his owner with his tiny tail between his legs. King Leon chuckled and watched him go, then sent Mutt a wink before heading in the opposite direction. Mutt gave a small smile despite himself, thinking that maybe having a rat as a friend wasn’t all bad.
CHAPTER 8
CLARA
Sunday, April 14, 1912
Clara was exhausted. Only four days with the kittens and they were already running her ragged, not to mention the constant back-and-forth between them and her duties as ship’s cat. Yesterday, Jack had accidentally soiled the captain’s slippers. Clara had ended up taking the blame, which she was not at all pleased about, and this morning Cosmo had somehow climbed up onto the side of the empty bathtub and fallen in. He had been stuck there until Clara had rescued him.
It wasn’t all bad, though. At night when they snuggled up against her for warmth and all was calm, Clara felt a quiet contentment. And when Jack had gotten himself stuck beneath the captain’s hat, Clara had laughed so hard that she’d surprised herself.
She wearily headed back to the captain’s quarters after a long session of ratcatching in the lower decks. She’d hoped to bring one back for the kittens, but the rats on board were quick-witted and she’d not managed to catch a single one.
“Where are your brothers?” Clara asked Violet as the kitten peeped out from beneath the table.
“They, um…” Violet stared at the floor, scratching with her paw at a small thread that had come loose from the carpet.
A sense of dread filled Clara’s stomach. “Violet? I need you to tell me where your brothers have gone.”
Violet’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I tried to stop them, Miss Clara.”
“Which way did they go?” Clara asked.
Violet nodded at the door. “They were hungry.”
Clara turned to leave, then had second thoughts. “You’d better come with me,” she told Violet. “I clearly can’t trust any of you to be alone.”
Violet padded along behind, her head hung low, and Clara felt a pang of guilt for having been so harsh. Violet wasn’t to blame for her brothers’ disappearance. That was the trouble with kittens, Clara thought with a sigh, they were always hungry.
She quickly caught up with Cosmo along the B deck, where the first-class restaurant and popular Café Parisien were located.
“Where do you think you are going?” Clara snapped.
Cosmo sniffed at the air. “I smelled something delicious,” he said as his tummy gave a little grumble.
“Where is your brother?” Clara asked, searching the deck frantically for Jack.
“He was here a second ago,” Cosmo said.
Clara hurried along the deck with Cosmo and Violet chasing after her. Up ahead, a little girl with bright blue ribbons in her hair held Jack in her arms. She was singing to him and rocking him as though he were a human baby.
Jack leaned his head back and saw Clara. “Help, Miss Clara. I’m being cat-napped!”
Clara turned to Cosmo and Violet. “Wait here,” she told them. She raced ahead of the little girl, then gave a loud meow before throwing herself on the ground at the girl’s feet.
“Oh!” cried the little girl, kneeling down to see if Clara was all right.
Clara rolled onto her back, wriggling her belly in the air and purring to tempt the girl. For a brief moment, Clara thought her plan had failed, but then the girl released Jack to give Clara’s tummy a rub. Clara purred loudly, pretending she was enjoying the ordeal, as Jack sneaked away to join his siblings. As soon as he was out of sight, Clara quickly jumped up, running in the opposite direction to lead the girl away.
Once Clara was sure the girl was well and truly turned around, she returned to the kittens.
“Well!” Clara cried. “That was almost as humiliating as the slipper incident.”
“We’re sorry,” Jack sniffed.
Clara opened her mouth to berate them some more, but something else had caught her attention. She sniffed at the air, then froze.
The kittens copied her.
“Ugh!” Violet cried. “What is that awful smell?”
“It smells like… like…” Jack made a choking sound, unable to name the horrid scent.
“Dog,” Clara spat, sniffing again as her sharp claws extended. “And a particularly unpleasant one at that, judging by the smell of it.”
She tilted her head, and again the kittens copied her, listening carefully to the distant sound of hurried paw-steps coming their way. By her reckoning, Clara counted eight paws. Four were ever so light. Barely more than a whisper, they traveled along quickly as though they were running to, or away from, something. The other four were heavier, clumsy, and they carried with them the distinct reek of a filthy dog. Clara had already met most of the first-class dogs, and they had all been coated with some kind of perfume, smelling more human than animal. This one was different. This one smelled like the dogs who prowled the docks at night, scavenging the alleyways in search of food or a fight, and who seemingly never bathed.
This one smelled like danger.
“Wait here,” Clara told the kittens, a mixture of fear and adrenaline racing through her. “Stay out of sight and do not move one whisker until I return.”
She stayed low as she moved, following the stench along the deck. It was so strong it was almost overpowering. She finally caught sight of the furiously wagging tail of a scruffy mongrel hiding beneath one of the deck chairs outside the café. It seemed to be waiting or watching for something… probably food, Clara thought. Dogs’ heads seemed to be filled with the thought of their next meal and not much else. Much like kittens.
Clara stalked closer, preparing to pounce, her hunting instincts taking over. Dogs were supposed to be kept in kennels on the F deck under the watchful eye of the carpenter, but some first-class passengers insisted on keeping their coddled pets in their cabins with them while the steward turned a blind eye. Clara, on the other hand, would do no such thing.
Whomever it belonged to, Clara thought, she couldn’t have unaccompanied dogs wandering the ship as they pleased. She leaned back on her hind legs, ready to strike, then gave a sly smile, baring her teeth as she prepared to teach the dog a lesson it wouldn’t soon forget.
CHAPTER 9
MUTT
Sunday, April 14, 1912
“I can fight my own battles,” Mutt grumbled, getting as far away from the yappy dog as possible.
“Sure you can,” King Leon said with a wink. “But we don’t have time to chat with the upper class.”
Finally, they reached the source of the mouthwatering smell. It was wafting out from an open doorway along the deck. Wicker chairs and tables were set out, and tall climbing plants wove in and out of painted white trellises along the walls. A few humans sat at a table farther away, but the table closest was empty. On it lay a plate with a half-eaten sandwich packed full of fresh, juicy meat and begging for Mutt to take a bite.
Mutt crept closer. He was so hungry he didn’t care anymore if anyone saw.
“Save some for me!” King Leon squeaked behind him.
Mutt raised his front paws onto a chair and leaned forward, his jaws almost touching the sandwich. He was about to grab it and run as fast as he could to safety so that he could enjoy his meal in peace when King Leon gave a sudden loud warning squeal and scampered away. Before Mutt could figure out what had King Leon spooked, he heard an almighty screech. Razor-sharp teeth clamped down on the end of his tail. It was all he could do to not howl and give himself away to the nearby humans. He whipped around as fast as he could, expecting to see the yappy dog returning for his revenge, but all he could see was a blur of fur and teeth and claws, hissing and spitting as it attacked. Mutt tried to fight back, snapping his teeth at the creature until it finally released its deathlike grip.
Mutt spun to face his attacker, baring his teeth. Now that his tail was free, he knew the odds were in his favor. He was bigger and stronger, but the creature had the backbone to attack a dog twice its size, and judging by the wicked look in its eyes, Mutt knew it would be a dirty fight. The creature copied his stance in a standoff as they circled each other. It was something that Mutt had never in a million years thought he might find on a ship as grand as the Titanic.
The worst, most despised of all dogs’ enemies.
A cat.
CHAPTER 10
CLARA
Sunday, April 14, 1912
“What are you doing on my ship?” Clara snarled at the mongrel. She wouldn’t make the mistake of biting him again—her tongue felt like it was coated with wiry strands of fur. They prickled at her throat and had the distinct aftertaste of salt and rotten fish and something even nastier that she couldn’t bring herself to name.
The dog’s coat was long and matted. It was the kind of color that wasn’t really a color at all—more a mix of various shades of dirt. His rat associate had long since scarpered. It was only her surprise at seeing a dog and a rat apparently in cahoots that had allowed the rat time to escape. Clara wouldn’t let him get away that easily, though; she’d never seen such a plump rat. Perhaps she would teach the kittens a few of her hunting tricks—once she’d dealt with the dog.
“Your ship?” the dog growled in reply. “What do you mean, your ship?”
“I am the captain’s cat,” Clara told him. “It is my responsibility to take care of stowaways like you and your rat friend.”
The dog glanced around, but the rat had scuttled off into hiding somewhere.
“Coward,” the dog muttered under his breath. “I’m not a stowaway,” he told Clara. “I’m here with my owner. I have as much right to be on this ship as any other dog.”
Clara narrowed her eyes. “Liar,” she spat. “If you have an owner, where is he or she? Dogs are not allowed to parade along the decks unaccompanied, and they are most certainly not allowed to scavenge scraps from the first-class dining areas.”
At the mention of food, the dog stared forlornly at the sandwich he had been trying to steal, still sitting abandoned on a fine china plate decorated with the White Star insignia. Then, to Clara’s surprise, he sighed and backed down.
“Maybe I don’t have an actual ticket, but my girl is somewhere on this ship,” he told her. “She’s going to the New World. I didn’t want her to leave without me, so I sneaked on board. I’m not here to cause any trouble; I just want to find my girl—Alice.”
His words came out in such a garbled rush that Clara could hardly understand what he was talking about. Of course, dogs weren’t the most eloquent of speakers at the best of times. She considered him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was stalling for time, trying to catch her off guard before he made a run for it, or if he really was telling the truth. Before she could make a decision either way, she was interrupted by a tiny squeak beside her.
“Miss Clara?” the little kitten mewed. “I’m hungry.” Cosmo’s gaze slid to the same sandwich that the dog had been after, and he licked his lips.
“Cosmo!” Clara cried. “I told you to stay hidden.” She leaned down to whisper in Cosmo’s ear so that the dog wouldn’t hear her. “Didn’t your mother teach you that dogs mean danger?”
Cosmo peered around Clara’s legs at the dog, then slowly shook his head. “Mother didn’t really teach us much of anything.”
He sniffled, then took a step toward the dog and looked him up and down. Clara instinctively took a step forward. The kitten might not belong to her, but she wasn’t about to let him get mauled by a street dog. The mongrel was clearly starving, and dogs would eat anything. But the dog cocked his head and gave Cosmo a dopey smile, his tongue half lolling out of the side of his mouth.
“He doesn’t seem that dangerous,” Cosmo said, giggling. “Smelly, maybe, but not dangerous. Are you dangerous?”
The dog chuckled,
then shook his head. “You’re in luck,” he joked. “I only eat kittens on Saturdays.”
Clara hissed at the dog, then froze as a waiter wandered over. She quickly ushered Cosmo beneath the tablecloth, out of sight. The dog followed, squeezing himself in beside Clara. They sat in silence as the waiter cleared the table above. As soon as the coast was clear, Clara shoved her head against the dog’s shoulder to get him to move a little.
“My name’s Mutt,” the dog told Cosmo, backing up a little. “I won’t hurt you—I promise.”
Cosmo laughed and ran out from behind Clara’s legs. “I’m Cosmo!” he said. “This is Miss Clara—she’s going to take care of us.”
“Us?” Mutt asked.
“Cosmo!” Clara said sharply.
Cosmo ran over to his siblings, who were poking their heads out from behind a tall potted plant in the corner of the café. Clara quickly followed, with the dog trailing along behind her as if they were in some kind of pack. Clara wondered how it had come to this—only four days ago it had just been her and her captain. Now she was watching every stowaway on the ship.
“I told you to stay with us!” Violet hissed at Cosmo. She looked up at Clara. “I did, Miss Clara, I promise.”
“Get out of sight before any humans see you,” Clara said, nudging the kittens back behind the ornate planter. “You too,” she ordered the dog, who had paused behind her.
Luckily, most of the passengers had gathered in the first-class restaurant, rather than the café, where the captain was conducting his usual Sunday-morning service of prayer and hymns.
“We’re sorry,” Jack mewed, not looking at all sorry.
Survival Tails_The Titanic Page 4