Had the Rats been truly horrible, they might have made General Marchmouse walk the gangplank all the same. But in most creatures there is a shred of mercy. So once the General had given them the information they required, they pulled him down, cuffed his ears, and locked him back in his cabin.
The General watched from his porthole as the Rats clambered back onto their raft and rowed to the shore. He could hear them as they made their way across the island, screeching bloodthirstily as they went to track Tumtum and Nutmeg down.
He knew there was no hope for the Nutmouses now. Soon they would be prisoners, too, and it was all his fault for betraying them. He sat on his stool, seized with remorse. It gave him a hot, tickly feeling to think how cross Tumtum would be.
Before long, two dreadful squeals rose from the depths of the island, and he knew his friends had been captured.
Presently, he heard the Rats clattering back onto the deck. “Lock them up below!” one of them shouted. And next thing the door to the General’s cabin was opened, and Tumtum and Nutmeg were flung inside.
They were a sorry spectacle. Their clothes were torn and scuffed, and they had burrs in their hair. And Tumtum’s watch was broken. But their spirits were still intact.
“These Rats are savages!” Nutmeg cried. “You should have seen what they’ve done to Villa Vanilla, General. They’ve battered down the walls and gnawed a big hole in the roof. Oh, it’s a pitiful mess. And they stole our last slice of ginger cake—and smashed the picnic glasses!”
“Did they ambush you in the bracken?” the General asked sheepishly. But to his relief Tumtum did not suspect him of betrayal.
“They caught us in the cove, just as we were trying to sail away in the margarine tub,” he replied. “If they had only arrived a minute later, we’d have been able to escape.”
“The Margarine Tub? Who’s she?” the General asked, thinking this a curious name for a boat.
“She is a margarine tub, as her name suggests,” Nutmeg said.
“But a cut above most margarine tubs,” Tumtum added proudly. “She has a fine cotton sail and oars made of solid steel.”
The General looked even more bewildered. But then the Nutmouses started at the beginning, and told him all about the SOS they had sent to the children; and how they had crept down to the cove that morning as soon as it was light and found the margarine tub washed up on the pebbles, like an answer to a prayer.
“And we were just pushing it out to water, about to set sail, when the Rats sprang out of the bushes, shouting, ‘Who goes there?’” Nutmeg went on. “And then they searched the boat and found a letter in it from Arthur and Lucy. It was clearly addressed to me, but the Rats read it all the same. And it was just an innocent letter, explaining that I should be careful with the sail, as it was attached with putty and might wobble a bit. But of course the Rats made a terrible fuss about it and wanted to know who Arthur and Lucy were. So we told them they were only human children who meant no harm. But then the Rats’ eyes went all narrow and greedy, and they asked us if the children were rich. And Tumtum laughed, and said, “Oh, dear me no. They’re not rich at all. Quite the contrary: they’re so poor, they can’t afford jam for their bread.” But the Rats wouldn’t believe it. And they sent the boat back to the shore, with another letter in it—a letter from them to Arthur and Lucy. And…and—”
“And what did the Rats’ letter say?” the General asked impatiently. But Nutmeg had started sobbing and couldn’t go on.
“They informed Arthur and Lucy that they had taken Nutmeg hostage,” Tumtum said. “And they said that if the children send the boat back to the island by tonight, filled to the brim with gold, then they will let her go. But if the Rats do not receive the gold before darkness falls, they will make her walk the gangplank.”
“And what about you and me?” the General asked self-centeredly.
“We don’t feature in the letters, because the children don’t know we’re here,” Tumtum replied. “But the Rats advised me that if they make Nutmeg walk the gangplank, they’ll make us walk it, too.”
The General grimaced. “Do you think the children will meet their demands?” he asked.
“How can they?” Nutmeg cried. “They haven’t got any gold. Not a pound coin between them.”
“In that case we’re in a spot of bother,” the General said.
Lucy awoke early that morning expecting to find that Nutmeg had visited the attic in the night. But the midnight feast of milk and biscuit crumbs that the children had left out in the dollhouse was untouched. And there was no note from her on the dresser.
“Arthur, wake up,” Lucy cried. “She hasn’t been here.”
“She’s probably still making her way back from the Pond,” Arthur grunted, pulling the covers over his head. “Now, go away and let me sleep. It’s not fair being woken up this early when we don’t have school.
“Oh, please,” Lucy said. “I want to go down to the Pond now. If we can find the margarine tub then at least we’ll know if Nutmeg got away from the island.” She got up and opened the curtains. It was already light. “Come on. If we go now we can be back for breakfast.”
“Oh, all right,” Arthur said, for he was curious, too. The children got dressed and tiptoed downstairs, so as not to wake theirfather. Then they let themselves out of the garden door and ran across the meadow.
It felt cooler today, and the Pond was scattered with a thin, feathery mist. The pirate ship had not moved. It was still lying motionless beside the island, its deck deserted and its portholes unlit. But the margarine tub was nowhere to be seen.
“It can’t have just disappeared,” Lucy said.
“Maybe it’s sunk,” Arthur suggested glumly.
“Of course it hasn’t sunk,” Lucy said. Bluebottle sinking was bad enough. The margarine tub couldn’t sink, too. It would be too much bad luck.
She started around the bank to look again, brushing aside the weeds with her hands. And then suddenly she saw the little boat floating on the water, just a few yards from where she was standing. It had appeared as if by magic. It had mist in its sails, and it looked gray and ghostly.
There was no one on board.
“Arthur, look. It’s here,” she called. “Can you get it?”
“Hang on,” he replied. He found a long stick, then he lay on the grass and gently pulled the margarine tub onto the bank.
Lucy lay down beside him and reached it out of the water.
“There’s something in it,” she said, taking out a tiny can, as small as a thimble. (It belonged to the Captain. He always carried a can in his knapsack, in case he found a delicious bug he wanted to take back to the ship to fry for his supper. Lucy pried off the lid with her thumbnail. And inside the can she found a piece of paper, folded several times.
“It must be another letter from Nutmeg,” Arthur said. But the children got a fright when they unraveled it, for the writing looked very sinister. The page was smudged with black ink, and the letters were all botched and coarse. It was quite different from Nutmeg’s handwriting.
“What does it say?” Arthur asked.
Lucy read it out loud to him. The Rats’ handwriting was much bigger than Nutmeg’s, so she did not need a magnifying glass to decipher it.
Rats’ Island
The Pond
To Arthur and Lucy,
Ur boat arived to late to save yor belovid Nutmeg. Weve taken her prisoner, and were goin to show her wot hapins to any1 who tresparsis on R island. We wil sail out to were the Pond is deepist, and were there R giant fish in the waters. Then we will make her walk the gangplank, with her paws tide behind her back.
But if U are good children, and return The Margarine Tub to the island bye nightfal, filed to its brim with gold, then we wil set Nutmeg free, and let her sail back to the shoor. But remember, we must get the gold by nightfal. Or U wil never sea Nutmeg again.
From,
The Rats
Arthur and Lucy were stunned. It was a very frightening letter to receive.
“They can’t really be rats,” Arthur said. “Rats can’t write.”
“Well, these Rats can hardly write—look at their spelling,” Lucy said. “But whoever they are we’ve got to get Nutmeg back before they do something awful to her.”
“But what can we do? We haven’t got any gold to send them.”
“Then we’ll have to tell Pa. Maybe he can swim out to the island and rescue her.”
“Don’t be silly. Can you imagine Pa swimming? I shouldn’t think he’s ever been swimming in his life. And I hardly think he’s going to throw himself into the Pond in order to rescue a fairy who’s been captured by Rats. If we tell him that, he’ll think we’re just being silly.”
Lucy looked thoughtful. Arthur was right; their father would never believe their story. No one would believe it. It was much too strange. They were going to have to rescue Nutmeg themselves. One way or another, they needed to find some gold.
Then Arthur had an idea. “Listen, you remember those chocolates that Aunt Ivy gave us at Christmas—the dark ones with goo in the middle?” he said excitedly.
Lucy nodded. She had tasted them and they had made her feel quite sick. They contained a disgusting syrupy substance called liqueur, which made her eyes water and her throat sting. Chocolate liqueurs are very potent. If you eat too many, you start to feel drunk. But they are so revolting, not even the greediest person would want more than one.
No one had liked Aunt Ivy’s chocolate liqueurs. So they had been sitting in the pantry since Boxing Day, gathering dust.
“What about them?” Lucy said.
“Well, you remember what they looked like? Each one was wrapped in gold paper and shaped like a brick. If we pack them all into the margarine tub, the pirates will think we’ve sent them a cargo of gold bullion!”
Lucy thought this was a wonderful plan. “And we can write them a letter, saying we’ll send over a second load as soon as we’ve got Nutmeg back,” she said cleverly. “That way they’ll be sure to keep to their side of the bargain. Come on, quick! Let’s go and find them.”
Lucy picked up the margarine tub and they ran back to Rose Cottage. Then they took the chocolates from the pantry and polished each one with a tea towel until it shone. They packed them into the boat two layers deep. And then Lucy found a piece of paper and sat down at the kitchen table to write the pirates a letter.
Dear Rats,
We are sending you these bricks of gold as a ransom. In return you must release Nutmeg AT ONCE, and let her use the boat to return to the shore. If you let her go tonight, we will send you a second cargo of gold in the morning. But if you keep her prisoner, we won’t send you anything else, ever.
From,
Arthur and Lucy Mildew
Rose Cottage
Lucy folded the letter tightly and wedged it beside the mast. Then they went straight back to the Pond. Lucy carried the margarine tub, covering it with both hands to make sure the chocolates didn’t fall out.
They could see signs of life on Lady Crossbones. There was a feather of smoke coming from a little stove on the deck, and a black flag had been raised on the mast. The children stood on the opposite bank and pushed the margarine tub out onto the water.
“Now all we can do is wait,” Lucy said.