by Mike Litwin
Ribeye grunted and snorted some more.
“Yes, I know a ship is no place for little calves,” Marco answered. “But we are not turning back! We just find something for them to do, give them a little adventure, we have them back before you know it!”
“Adventure?” Chuck said.
Marco turned his head toward Chuck and Dakota, as though he had forgotten they were standing right there.
“Ribeye, guide us while I greet our new guests,” he said. He led Chuck and Dakota to his cabin.
“My grumpy friend and I ought to drop you stowaways on the first dot of land we see,” Marco said, turning to the calves. “But I would never do that to someone who enjoys my stories. Bermooda is already out of sight and I’m afraid it is too late to turn back now. So, until we finish our journey, you shall be my ship’s helpers. You are now…buccowneers.”
Chuck felt his heart leap inside his chest. “Really? US?”
“BUT FIRST…you must take the oath!” Marco said. He puffed out his chest. “Do you solemnly swear to follow any and all of the captain’s orders, to bravely seek adventure, and to not bring bad luck upon the ship and her crew?”
“Aye, aye, captain!” they replied.
“Be warned, my young friends,” Marco continued, pointing a feather at them. “This is not a place for cowards, and this is not a playground. This is a daring quest for treasure!”
Chuck’s ears perked up. “Treasure?” he repeated. Was he finally on a real treasure hunt?
“Certamente!” Marco held up the rolled paper. “This map has been passed down through my family, all the way from my great, great grandfather—Pinfeather Pollo. It will lead us to the greatest treasure in the Cowibbean Sea!”
With a flourish, Marco unrolled the paper. On the paper was an old map featuring tropical islands, a coral reef, a shipwreck, and a rock with a red “X” scratched over it. A sailing path was drawn out in a dotted line that looped and curled around the landmarks, making a giant “S.”
“First, we start here, at Cattleena,” he pointed to a little island with a palm tree in the lower left corner of the map. “Then we sail northeast, to Waterdown—the treacherous yard of underwater shipwrecks!”
Dakota’s neck hair rose at the mention of shipwrecks. It reminded him of the HMS Hortica—the forbidden Bermooda shipwreck where he had been found.
Marco hopped up on the table, clucking louder and louder. “Then we swoop around to Sterling Reef,” he went on feverishly, “home of the most magical maids of the sea!” He got so excited that he drew his sword from its sheath.
“Then…it’s on to Spidercrab Rock!” he shouted, fluttering to the top of his globe. “Where we shall find the greatest treasure known! The Coral Crown!” Brandishing his sword high in the air, he threw back his head and ended his speech with a long crow.
“The Coral Crown?” Chuck asked. He loved legends and stories, but this was one he had not heard before.
“The Coral Crown is the most beautiful, most exquisite prize in all the Cowibbean.” Marco explained, waving his wings slowly. “It is said to be made of gold coral from the deepest parts of the ocean. It is covered in emeralds and sapphires…and diamonds as big as your eye! A trophy worthy of the highest king!”
“Wow!” Chuck said, his eyes growing wide. “Has anyone ever seen it?”
“Ahhh…no.” Marco lowered his head. He suddenly looked sad. “Many roosters of my family have looked for the crown. My grandfather has told me the tales since I was a little chick. Legend say the crown rests at Spidercrab Rock. He spent his whole life searching for it. He followed this map many times. But no matter how far he sailed…he never found the crown. No one has.”
Of course no one’s ever found it, Dakota thought to himself. It probably doesn’t even exist. Just as before, he was not so impressed with Marco’s tales.
“What’s this?” Chuck asked, pointing to a poem scribbled at the bottom of the map. He read the verses aloud:
“Circle of darkness, horn of the heavens,
A watery grave where the clock strikes eleven,
A spying eye sees when our own eyes do fail,
Into the nothingness, bravely we sail.
The beast shall sleep at the Sea-Cows’ song,
And we shall be guided by stars of our own.
Reach for the skies and a sea rover finds
The crown she doth sing to a key of her kind.
And guard thy heart, hearties, where wishes do dwell,
For those who bring ruin shall earn it as well.”
“Huh?” Dakota wrinkled his nose under his cow mask. “I don’t understand any of that.”
“There’s nothing to understand,” Marco said. “It’s just a shanty. An old sea tune my grandfather sang for good luck.”
“It almost sounds like a bunch of clues,” Chuck said.
“Poppycock!” Marco snapped. Who needs clues when we have a map? This map will help Marco succeed where all others have failed. Everyone who has looked for the crown has given up, gotten lost, or perished at sea.”
“Maybe if they’d just gone straight to Spidercrab Rock, they wouldn’t have had so much trouble,” Dakota suggested. He pointed at the map. “See? First you go all the way east to some old shipwreck. Then you sail all the way west to this coral reef. Then you come back east again to Spidercrab Rock!” He drew an invisible line through the middle of the path with his coconut shell hoof. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just go in a straight line?”
Marco lowered his eyelids and stared at Dakota as though he were crazy. “If it were that easy, little cow, don’t you think someone would have done it by now?”
“Maybe it’s another clue,” Chuck offered. “There must be some reason to take that big curvy path.”
“There are no clues!” Marco clucked impatiently. He was beginning to tire of these stowaway calves telling the great Marco Pollo how to read a map. “That poem is just a silly old song, and we sail that path because THAT IS WHAT’S ON THE MAP.”
At that moment, they heard Ribeye grunt loudly from the quarterdeck above.
“What was that?” Dakota asked.
“Ribeye says ‘Land Ho!’” Marco answered, rolling up the map and stuffing it under his gigantic captain’s hat. They all joined Ribeye up at the ship’s wheel. The sun was beginning to set now, and it reflected in the ocean like tiny droplets of fire. In front of the beautiful sunset was a tiny little island.
Marco gazed ahead at the island through his spyglass. “Behold…Cattleena!” he said.
Cattleena was much smaller than Bermooda. There weren’t as many palm trees, and the sand looked a lot rockier. The cluster of wooden docks lining the side of the island looked old enough to fall apart. It wasn’t much, but it still looked pretty enough in the pink rays of the setting sun.
Dakota furrowed his brow as he remembered their abandoned ghost hunt. “So much for finding the Silver Cow at sunset,” he muttered. He pulled the paper hat off of Chuck’s head. “We were supposed to spend the weekend camping! What’s Mama going to say?”
Chuck couldn’t understand what Dakota was so cranky about. After all, Mama wouldn’t expect them home from camping for a couple of days. For now, the breeze was warm, the sunset was lovely, and they were searching for a priceless treasure with a genuine hero. What could possibly go wrong?
4
THE BLACK SPOT
Marco shouted orders to his crew as they docked the Swashclucker. “So what are we doing here?” Dakota asked.
“Cattleena is where the map starts, so that’s where we start,” Marco stated firmly. “We dock here for the night before beginning our voyage.”
Even though Marco said the poem didn’t have any clues in it, Chuck was convinced that it did. He was even more convinced he would find the answers to some of those clues here on Cattleena.
“Can we walk into town?” Chuck asked. “I promise we’ll be careful.”
Ribeye snorted his disapproval, but Marco dismissed it.
“Oh, let them go, Ribeye. Let them have a little fun!” he clucked. “Just don’t tell anyone about our voyage,” he warned them. “And stay away from The Black Spot. That place is nothing but trouble. And definitely stay away from the Kingfish.”
“Who’s the Kingfish?” Chuck asked.
“The Kingfish is a dirty scoundrel,” Marco said. “He runs most of this place, and he is not too fond of cows. He takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and he’d love to find the crown as much as we would.”
“He sounds like a pirate,” Chuck noted.
“Sí,” Marco agreed. “A pirate of the worst kind.”
“Sounds like a regular bully to me,” Dakota mumbled.
Chuck and Dakota found that Cattleena was not as pretty up close. Everywhere they looked, the town was dirty and rough. Even worse, Chuck hadn’t found any answers to clues. He was about to suggest they go back to the Swashclucker when he saw something he couldn’t resist. The tavern just ahead of them had a dirty white sign with a dark black circle on it. Written inside the circle were the words, “The Black Spot.”
“Look!” Chuck said, drawing a circle around the black circle with his hoof. “A ‘circle of darkness!’Just like in the poem!”
“Couldn’t it just be a coincidence?” Dakota asked.
Chuck reached for the door. Dakota slapped his hand over it. “No! Marco said to stay away from here! Besides, the last time we went into a place like this, it was the Leaky Tiki…and look how much trouble that brought us!”
Chuck pushed Dakota’s hand aside. “Come on,” he said, opening the door. “How bad could it be?”
The Black Spot looked nothing like the Leaky Tiki. This place was not warm and cozy. This place was gloomy and cold. The room was dimly lit by ship’s lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The air tasted salty and stale, and the whole place smelled of fish. The windows were covered with brown palmetto leaves that had dried up long ago. A sad-looking octopus served drinks with as many hands as he could spare to a rowdy band of lobsters, crabs, and other shellfish. They laughed loudly as they played cards and slurped plankton at their tables. This place really was a circle of darkness. Chuck and Dakota pulled up two bamboo stools at the counter.
“What are we looking for?” Dakota asked.
“Well, the poem says ‘Circle of darkness, horn of the heavens’,” Chuck said. They looked at their dingy surroundings. There was nothing heavenly about this place. “There has to be something here,” Chuck insisted. “I just know it.”
Dakota sighed. “Maybe there is no ‘Horn of the Heavens’. Maybe there is no Coral Crown. I know you want to believe that Marco is a great explorer. But maybe he’s just a great storyteller.”
Chuck pretended not to hear. “You know what’s weird?” he whispered. “This island is called ‘Cattleena’ but I haven’t seen any cattle.”
“I know,” Dakota agreed. “Other than you, the only cow in this place is that statue over there.” He pointed to a small cow statue on a round black pedestal in a dark corner of the room. They tiptoed over to take a closer look.
The statue was made of white marble. It was shaped like a cow with angelic wings and an elegant crown. A single horn stuck out from the center of the cow’s head. Squinting his eyes, Chuck read the words engraved on the statue’s base: “Nalani, Heifer of the Heavens.”
“What is it?” Dakota asked. “A unicow? There’s only one horn.”
“This must be it!” Chuck said. “The ‘Horn of the Heavens’!” He peered closer and noticed a very small latch on the back the of the horn. “I think this thing comes off,” he said. He wiggled on the horn.
“Careful! You’ll break it!” Dakota said in a hushed voice.
Chuck tugged a little harder, and the horn came off with a gentle click!
The two glanced around nervously but no one in the place seemed to notice them. Chuck and Dakota looked closely at the horn and now saw that it was hollow on the inside. Six tiny holes had been bored through the side.
“Hey! It’s not just a horn!” Chuck said. “It’s a hornpipe!”
Chuck turned the hornpipe flute over, and a roll of yellowed paper fell out from inside. They unrolled the paper to find an odd scale of musical notes that twisted and wound all over the page in the shape of a crown. Below the musical notes was a list of what seemed to be song titles, scribbled in a familiar handwriting:
The Fishes’ Breath
Song o’ the Sea-Cow
Tempest and the Tide
Fire in the Heavens
“Look! It’s the same handwriting as Marco’s map!” Chuck’s hooves quivered with excitement. “Now do you think it’s all just a coincidence?”
“It still doesn’t make sense,” Dakota insisted. “We’re on Cattleena, there’s a cow statue…where are all the cows?”
“The Kingfish hates cows,” said a raspy voice behind them. They turned to see a big black parrot perched at the end of the counter. “Forgive me,” the old bird croaked, “I couldn’t help but overhear. The name’s Nwar. And the answer to your question is that the Kingfish has hated cows, hated cows ever since one of them cut off half his whiskers.”
Nwar looked like a tough old bird, but very tired. His heavy black feathers were tattered and his eyes had saggy red rims. He seemed awfully happy to have someone to talk to, so Chuck and Dakota listened as his scratchy voice croaked on about the Kingfish. Every so often, he would repeat a few words right in the middle of his sentence.
“This place was once full, full of cows. They sailed here years ago, years ago, from a place called Bermooda. Well, one day the Kingfish and his crew, his crew of shellfish, arrive in his ship, the Tyrant. They didn’t get along, get along too well with the cows. They figured cows ain’t got no place on the water. One day, the Kingfish got into it with a big one-eyed bull.”
Chuck and Dakota looked at each other. They both had a feeling they knew who the one-eyed bull was. They were starting to understand why Marco and Ribeye didn’t want to come into town.
“There was an argument, which turned into a sword fight, and…well, ol’ Kingfish lost some whiskers,” Nwar said. “After that, the Kingfish and his pirates ran pretty much every cow off the island. He’s hated cows, hated cows ever since. So…what are you little cows doing here?”
Marco had said not to tell anyone about their plan. But Chuck was brimming with so much excitement that he looked like he might explode. Before Dakota could stop him, Chuck blurted out, “We’re looking for the Coral Crown!” Chuck went on to blabber about the crown, the map, the poem, the hornpipe…everything. Dakota just shook his head.
“The Coral Crown, you say? Always thought that was only a legend, a legend, just like them monstrous hu’mans. Boy, I bet the ol’ Kingfish would love to get his fins on that!” Nwar cawed with a croaky laugh. “Well, best of luck to you, lads. Thanks for letting an old bird talk your ears off.” He made a slight bow before flapping out the door.
“Now you’ve done it!” Dakota said. “Marco said not to tell anyone!”
“He seemed nice,” Chuck said. “It’s not like I went and told the Kingfish.”
But no sooner had Chuck uttered those words than the Kingfish himself burst right through the front door.
“Well,” Dakota gulped. “Here’s your big chance.”
The Kingfish was not a king at all, but an enormous catfish. Standing on his tail, he was quite tall—about twice as tall as Chuck and Dakota. He was also rather sloppy, with a round belly that bounced under his chin. He wore a gruesome smile, with two big, oversized front teeth that stuck out past his big, oversized lips. Long whiskers curled out from around his ugly face. On his left side, they could see several short nubs where whiskers used to be. His beady, cat-like eyes were set far apart, covered by thin glasses that stretched across his wide nose. From his head came a pointy fin that looked like a crown.
He spotted Chuck and Dakota almost immediately. He waddled a bit as he strolled across the room toward them on
his tail fin. Chuck hid the hornpipe behind his back.
“Well now…what have we here?!” he said in a deep voice. “Cows? On MY island? And runty little cows at that!” He picked Dakota up by the foot with his fin. Dakota did his best to keep his cow mask on as the Kingfish held him upside down and peered at him through his glasses.
“Put my brother down!” Chuck mooed. He ran up and stomped a hoof on the King-fish’s tail.
“Ooooh, you’re a feisty one!” the Kingfish crooned, grabbing Chuck by the shirt. The Kingfish was quite strong. Chuck and Dakota both dangled from his fins as he began to shake them up and down.
“What do you say there, boys? Anyone want a milkshake?” he teased, letting out a deep belly laugh. The shellfish in the room cackled along with him. But their laughter stopped when they heard a familiar voice yell out:
“Ora basta! That’s enough!”
Everyone froze as Marco appeared in the doorway. The Kingfish released his grip on Chuck and Dakota. Falling to the floor, they scrambled to the door behind Marco. For a few moments, everything was silent as Marco and the Kingfish stared each other down.
“These cows are sailing under my flag,” Marco said. “If you bother them, you are bothering me.”
“Pollo!” the Kingfish jeered. “Now, I should’ve known that you’d be the one to bring two grass-chewers to my island…with that first mate of yours and all. Where is that one-eyed beefsteak you pal around with, Pollo? He and I still got a score to settle.”
Marco smirked at the Kingfish. He didn’t seem to be afraid, even though he was much smaller. “You should be more careful, my slippery friend,” he said. “You might lose the other half of your whiskers. And you know how silly a pirate looks without a beard.” Marco had a reputation for being an expert swordsman, and the Kingfish knew it.
The grisly catfish scowled at them for a few moments before grumbling, “I’m gonna let you off with a warning. Today. But if you little hamburgers ever show up on my island again…I’ll turn your hides into leather.” With that, Chuck, Dakota, and Marco backed out of the door.