The Forgotten Map

by Cameron Stelzer

  ‘The island with the twin mountains o’ course,’ Rat Bait said. ‘The Island o’ Destiny.’

  ‘You’ve been to the Island of Destiny!’ Whisker exclaimed.

  ‘Aye, that I have.’ Rat Bait replied.

  ‘So why don’t you have the treasure?’ Pete asked suspiciously.

  Rat Bait sighed. ‘That be a long an’ complicated story.’

  ‘Then I suggest you get started,’ the Captain said, taking a seat on a rock.

  Rat Bait reluctantly began, ‘One evenin’, Capt’n Ratsputin showed us a strange map. He wouldn’t reveal where he’d found it, but that be o’ no concern to our crew. We sailed for the island soon after even though Capt’n Ratsputin lacked all he needed for the quest … We arrived one stormy afternoon an’ discovered the dangers o’ the island …’

  ‘What dangers?’ Pete cut in. ‘Tell us everything. Do you hear? Your map will be no good to us if we’re all lying dead at the bottom of the sea.’

  ‘I be hearin’ ye,’ Rat Bait said, taking a deep breath. ‘The whole island be surrounded by steep cliffs an’ sharp rocks. There’s one passage into a rocky bay where a boat may anchor. The Princess Pie was hammered by the storm and the rocks beat against her hull but we pressed on t’wards the shore. As we prepared to anchor, we seen the creature.’

  ‘Creature?’ Whisker gulped.

  ‘Aye,’ Rat Bait said. ‘It was hard to make out with all the rain but I seen a long, dark shape in the water beside the Princess Pie. It battered her hull an’ drove us back out to sea. We be losin’ the c …’ He paused. ‘We be losin’ the cargo an’ supplies over the side and the sails tore in the wind. The creature, whatever it be, stopped rammin’ us only when we were far from the island. But the Princess was a leakin’ wreck …’

  ‘Did you go back?’ Whisker asked.

  ‘We patched up our ship,’ Rat Bait said. ‘But the crew were afraid an’ dared not return with the capt’n gone – he be desertin’ straight after, ye know. The Princess Pie ran aground before the crew found their courage again. Most of them were captured by the Blue Claw an’ danced at the end o’ a rope.’

  ‘Except you,’ Pete mumbled, unconvinced. ‘How convenient.’

  ‘I been lucky,’ Rat Bait said defensively. ‘An’ I’ve taken me luck and given up the game. There’s no more treasure huntin’ for me. Lady Luck won’t stay around forever, ye know.’ He pointed a wrinkly finger at Whisker. ‘Cept li’l Whisker here. He must be married to Lady Luck!’

  Whisker looked sideways in embarrassment. Pete grunted and whispered something to the Captain.

  The Captain pondered for a moment and then addressed Whisker. ‘This evening we received a letter confirming the bearer of an unknown map. The name it gave was Rat Bait.’

  Whisker nodded. It all made sense.

  The Captain continued, ‘My question for you, Whisker, is this: Do you believe Rat Bait’s story about the Forgotten Map? And if so, do you think you have enough luck to get us safely to the treasure?’

  Rat Bait stared at Whisker with a pleading look in his eye.

  Whisker wanted to say yes. His heart told him this was his best chance of finding his family, even though he couldn’t say how. But this wasn’t the kind of answer the Captain or Quartermaster Pete wanted to hear. They wanted an answer based on facts, not sentiment. He took a deep breath and tried to put his thoughts into words.

  ‘Rat Bait has no reason to lie about the map,’ he said. ‘Why would he invent a rumour and risk the Cat Fish killing him? More importantly, why would he include a savage sea creature in his story if it wasn’t true – it’s hardly a good selling point. And finally, you don’t need luck to reach the treasure. You need good weather and a sharp harpoon.’

  The Captain laughed heartily. Rat Bait relaxed his shoulders and clapped Whisker on the back. ‘Aye, that’s me lad.’

  Pete frowned. ‘It all makes perfect sense, but it’s still a big risk …’

  A single sharp whistle drifted on the wind towards them.

  ‘That was quick,’ the Captain said. ‘I think our ride has arrived.’

  Rat Bait suddenly became frantic.

  ‘So what be yer decision?’ he stammered. ‘Do ye want the map or not?’

  ‘We’ll think about it,’ Pete yawned. ‘It’s rather late to be making important decisions, don’t you think?’

  The Captain stood up to leave.

  ‘But …’ Rat Bait pleaded, ‘surely ye’ll want to finish what yer father started?’

  ‘I am not my father!’ the Captain rumbled, shaking his paw. ‘I do not risk my ship and the lives of my crew for a treasure no one has seen. I bid you goodnight.’

  Before Rat Bait had time to respond, the Captain hurried out of the tunnel with Pete. Whisker felt a rush of disappointment pass through him, but something told him the meeting was not yet over.

  ‘One hundred gold coins,’ Rat Bait cried in desperation, ‘an’ I’ll tell ye where to find the map.’

  ‘Ridiculous,’ Pete huffed, without bothering to turn around. ‘We could buy a brand new ship for that price.’

  ‘Alright. Fifty gold pieces,’ Rat Bait wailed. ‘But ye’d be cheatin’ an old capt’n out o’ his retirement money.’

  The Captain stopped on a nearby rock and removed a money bag from inside his coat.

  ‘You could retire quite comfortably on much less,’ he thought aloud. ‘Have you considered a good retirement island?’

  ‘Drumstick Island,’ Rat Bait blurted out in a daze, his eyes fixed on the bag in the Captain’s paw.

  ‘That’s an extremely affordable place to retire,’ the Captain said, ‘and it’s got a lagoon … It’s a pity I can’t help you. I seem to be rather low on gold at present.’

  ‘Please,’ Rat Bait begged. ‘Ye can’t leave me penniless with the Cat Fish after me. Thirty, I tell you. It be robbery, I know, an’ I’ll starve to death before the year be out. But ye can have it for thirty gold pieces.’

  Before Rat Bait had finished whining, the Captain leapt back into the tunnel with Pete hobbling closely behind him. Without a word, the Captain took a handful of gold coins and spread them on a rock. Pete took several more coins from his own bag and held them in his scrawny paws.

  The Captain made his offer. ‘Alright, Rat Bait, here are fifteen gold pieces. Once you’ve told us the location of the map, Pete will give you another ten.’

  Rat Bait eagerly eyed the glittering gold on the rock and then looked across at the coins bulging from Pete’s paws.

  ‘Agreed,’ he said, licking his lips, and began shovelling coins into his soggy pockets.

  ‘Now tell us where the map is,’ Pete demanded.

  ‘It be not a question o’ where but a question o’ who,’ Rat Bait chuckled.

  ‘This had better not be a nasty trick,’ the Captain growled, drawing his sword.

  Whisker shuffled away from Rat Bait and hoped the Captain wasn’t about to have another one of his outbursts.

  ‘It be no trick,’ Rat Bait pleaded. ‘I gave her the map for safe keepin’. That be all.’

  ‘What’s her name and where do we find her?’ Pete snapped.

  ‘Madam Pearl,’ Rat Bait answered. ‘I’m sure ye’ve heard of her.’

  The name sounded familiar to Whisker, though he couldn’t place it.

  ‘The antiques dealer,’ the Captain acknowledged. ‘Everyone knows Madam Pearl.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Whisker mumbled.

  ‘That’s because you’ve never bought a scissor sword,’ Pete said smugly. ‘Madam Pearl is the well connected weasel who can get you anything you want … if you can pay for it.’

  The Captain narrowed his gaze. ‘She’s not going to ask us for more gold, is she, Rat Bait? Or a cut of the treasure?’

  ‘Err … no,’ Rat Bait stammered. ‘She owes me a favour. She’s holdin’ the map ‘til somebody turns up with the password. She be too rich to be carin’ ‘bout the map or its treasure.’

  ‘So what’s the p
assword?’ Pete said impatiently. ‘My paws are getting sore from holding all this gold.’

  Rat Bait stared longingly at the remaining gold coins and wiped his paws on his coat. ‘The island is ready to reveal its secret. That be the password.’

  ‘I’m sure we can remember that,’ the Captain replied.

  ‘But where do we find this Madam Pearl?’ Whisker asked.

  ‘She’ll be at her antique shop in Port Abalilly o’ course,’ Rat Bait laughed as he filled his bulging pockets with more coins. ‘But ye’d best not mention ‘bout blowin’ up her import warehouse.’

  ‘Of course!’ Whisker said, slapping his forehead. ‘It was written on the front of the warehouse, Pearl’s Imports.’

  Rat Bait turned to leave.

  ‘Nice to be doin’ business with ye,’ he said tipping his hat. He winked at Whisker. ‘I hope yer luck continues, li’l capt’n.’

  As Whisker watched Rat Bait disappear into the tunnel, the secret password ran through his mind: The island is ready to reveal its secret. If only he knew what that secret was.

  Newspapers and Maps

  Bounding down the last of the rocks to the shoreline, Whisker reached the small boat. When the crew were all comfortably seated, Fred quietly lowered the oars and began rowing towards the harbour entrance.

  Whisker barely heard the sounds of the clock tower striking midnight, and he paid no attention to the loud snores of slumbering sailors in their hammocks. His focus on the map was all-consuming.

  ‘You should get Pete to take a look at that,’ Horace whispered, breaking Whisker’s concentration.

  ‘Huh?’ Whisker mumbled.

  ‘Your toe,’ Horace said pointing at Whisker’s bandaged foot. ‘Pete’s the doctor of the ship. You don’t want your leg to turn green and fall off. We’ve already got a one-legged layabout in our crew.’

  ‘Shhh,’ Pete hissed, throwing his paws in the air. His fingers clipped the end of his newspaper hat and it tumbled into the ocean. ‘Oh, my precious paws,’ he moaned.

  Horace chuckled. ‘Your week of fancy dress will restart if you don’t find a replacement hat quick smart.’

  ‘That’s hardly fair,’ Pete protested. ‘You’re the one …’

  ‘Ahem,’ the Captain interrupted. ‘Is it too much to ask for five minutes of silence? Or would you prefer to shout out our location for the whole island to hear?’

  Horace shut his mouth. Pete continued grumbling, ‘But what about my hat?’

  The Captain let out a frustrated sigh. ‘You can pick up a copy of the Aladryan Advertiser from the newspaper boat on our way out, Pete. The boat docks on the outer jetty, from what I remember.’

  Pete nodded morosely.

  ‘There’s one condition,’ the Captain added. ‘I want to read the important news before you turn it into your silly hat. You can have the classifieds section but I want to know what’s been going on in Aladrya before we visit you-know-who to get the you-know-what.’

  As Fred turned the boat towards the harbour mouth, Whisker noticed a weathered vessel moored against a jetty. The top of its white hull was covered with black letters and a sign hanging from one of its masts read News Express. Two moles wearing thick glasses unloaded bundles of newspapers and magazines onto the jetty.

  Pete clearly recognised them and screwed up his nose.

  ‘Not too close, Fred,’ the Captain whispered. ‘I’d prefer we remain out of sight in case Sabre enquires after us. Mr Tribble, if it’s not too much to ask, could I trouble you to purchase us a couple of newspapers? The Pirate Times will hopefully shed some light on these dastardly Blue Claw raids.’

  Mr Tribble nodded hesitantly and climbed onto the jetty. He returned shortly after with the two newspapers and a long rolled item.

  ‘What’s that?’ Emmie asked, pointing to the roll.

  ‘It’s a free poster,’ Mr Tribble replied. ‘The moles said it advertised some kind of pirate championship.’

  ‘The Pirate Cup,’ Horace said excitedly. ‘It’s held every four years. It’s the Olympics for pirates – only more entertaining.’

  ‘And more brutal,’ Pete added.

  Emmie unrolled the poster as Fred rowed them out to sea.

  ‘Shiver me whiskers!’ Horace gasped. ‘The Centenary Games. One hundred years of the finest swashbuckling swordsmanship and gruelling team challenges. It’s going to be massive!’

  ‘That might explain the raids,’ the Captain considered.

  ‘But I thought the raids were about stolen goods,’ Whisker said puzzled.

  The Captain shook his head. ‘In the Pirate Cup there’s no silver and no bronze, just an enormous cup called the Trophy of Champions and gold, gold, gold for the winning team. The entry fee is exorbitant and most of the losing teams go on a plundering rampage once the games are over. No nearby town or passing ship is safe … If the Blue Claw arrest potential entrants before the Centenary Games, teams won’t have the numbers to enter.’

  ‘But the location for the cup hasn’t even been announced,’ Mr Tribble pointed out. ‘For all we know, the Centenary Games will be held on a distant island, thousands of miles from Aladrya.’

  The Captain looked down at the poster and pondered, ‘I don’t know who this mysterious G character is, but I can assure you the location for the cup will be somewhere nearby. The poster is clearly evidence of that.’

  Whisker glanced at the poster. Among the diamond and oval shaped jewels at the base of the cup was a gold banana. He’d seen the symbol many times before – on Aladryan coins. The Governor and ruling officers of Aladrya were chimpanzees and the banana was their official seal.

  ‘Stinking banana-loving chimps!’ Horace exclaimed. ‘We’d better make sure we’re not carrying any of their banana-stamped trinkets, or we’d throw away any chance of entering the Pirate Cup.’

  ‘Hold it right there,’ the Captain said firmly. ‘No one’s said anything about participating in this ridiculous Pirate Cup, even if we could raise the funds. We have far more significant things to worry about. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes, Captain,’ Horace said in a dejected voice.

  Whisker looked over his shoulder to see his friend sulking in the back of the boat.

  ‘We could win,’ Horace mumbled.

  Ruby nodded her head in agreement. It seemed that she, too, shared the desire to win the glorious Pirate Cup.

  As the shadowy shape of the Apple Pie came into view, Whisker knew they would both soon forget the idea when they heard about the treasure on the Island of Destiny. In his mind, it was the ultimate prize.

  Before he knew it, Whisker was sitting at the dining table with a freshly bandaged foot, munching on slices of blueberry pie and sharing the tales of the evening.

  With the map within their grasp, the Captain informed the rest of the crew (including the mice, who were now honorary members of the crew) what he had learnt from Rat Bait.

  Horace’s eyes lit up when the Captain described the legend of the treasure and the great power it could bring.

  ‘We’d win the Pirate Cup for sure with a treasure like that!’ he exclaimed.

  Mr Tribble kept muttering, ‘It all sounds rather dangerous, if you ask me,’ and Fred sat with a pained expression on his face and said nothing. Whisker wondered how much of the story the gentle giant actually understood.

  ‘Fred,’ he whispered. ‘We’re after a map that leads to a wonderful treasure on a secret island. A weasel named Madam Pearl has the map and we’re going to her shop in Port Abalilly to collect it.’

  Fred’s face broke into a gentle smile. ‘I know Madam Pearl. Her shop is near the pie factory where I grew up.’

  ‘Of course,’ Whisker remembered. ‘You lived in Port Abalilly.’

  ‘And Madam Pearl is very famous,’ Fred continued. ‘She’s in the paper, you know?’

  ‘The paper?’ Whisker asked.

  ‘I can’t read the words,’ Fred said. ‘But I know it’s a drawing of her. She always wears her pearl necklace.�
��

  The rest of the table turned their attention to Fred, who clearly knew something they didn’t.

  ‘When did you see her in the newspaper?’ Pete enquired.

  ‘Just now,’ Fred replied. ‘Look – there she is.’

  Fred pointed to the cover of the Aladryan Advertiser lying on the serving bench. No one had bothered to read it, let alone glance at the headline. The Pirate Cup poster was the only thing anyone had been interested in, except Fred.

  On its own, the headline had no real significance, but the drawing below it made everyone stare in shock. It was a portrait of Madam Pearl, the white weasel in her fineries.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Fred asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Pete groaned. ‘Something is very wrong. The one person who knows where our map is hidden is locked up in the most heavily guarded prison this side of the equator.’

  Fred’s ears drooped. ‘Oh dear. Oh double dear.’

  Whisker stared at the newspaper and refused to believe what he was seeing.

  ‘Maybe Madam Pearl is innocent,’ Whisker blurted out.

  ‘Wishful thinking,’ the Captain said. ‘Everyone knows Madam Pearl is as guilty as they come. Scissor swords aren’t exactly legal import items. She’s only stayed in business this long because of all the bribes she pays.’

  ‘But why arrest her now?’ Whisker asked in confusion. ‘She can’t enter the Pirate Cup, can she?’

  ‘Not personally,’ Pete replied. ‘But I’m sure she can bankroll a team or three to ensure there’s going to be a cup regardless of how many arrests are made. It’s in her best interests. Where do you think the competitors buy their weapons?’

  Whisker thought desperately for another answer. ‘Can’t one of us pretend to be her lawyer?’

  Horace laughed. ‘Haven’t you heard? Rats aren’t allowed in law school, and I’d wager no mouse has graduated for years.’

  Smudge raised his arms as if to say: or a fly for that matter.

  ‘I doubt Madam Pearl will get to choose her own lawyer,’ Pete added, ‘even if we could find an old turtle to bribe. And the trial could be months or even years away. You saw the headline. She’ll most likely rot in prison before the paperwork is completed.’