“I’ve read about this,” said Eddy. “Pirate captains hire their crews in rough old backstreet inns full of black-hearted villains who’d sell their own grannies for ninepence.”

“Quite right,” said the Captain. “Let’s go and hunt round town.”

They soon found a damp and dingy alley leading to a damper and dingier courtyard. A rat scuttled away through a hole into the dirtiest, grottiest, smelliest and stickiest building that Eddy had ever seen. In fact, it was so dirty, grotty, smelly and sticky that a moment later the rat staggered out again, coughing and gasping for air.

A grimy sign swung above their heads – The Tidemark Bay Rough Tough Club.

Eddy spotted a blotchy handwritten note pinned to the door.

“Look, Captain. ‘Grannies for sale. Various sizes. Enquire within.’”

“Perfect,” said the Captain.

But it wasn’t perfect. It was shut.

Eddy saw another notice in the window, where it had been stuck with the remains of a meat and potato pie.

“It says, ‘Away on our Shout Round Europe summer coach trip. See you softies in two weeks.’”

“We can’t wait that long,” said the Captain. “We needs to catch the tide. This is desperate.”

“Desperate? Then I’m your woman,” said the shop owner, popping out from behind an old barrel. “Please, Captain. You can’t imagine what it’s like to stand in that shop week after week. Some days I don’t see a single soul. I’ve always dreamed of sailing off on an adventure. Give me a chance, dearie.”

The Captain sighed. “I don’t seem to have a choice. Oh, well. From now on, you will be known as the Crew. You will call me Captain, and I will call you anything I like, because I’m in charge. Is that clear?”

“Yes, dearie,” said the Crew.

“You call me Captain.”

“Yes, Captain, dearie.”

“Now, before we set sail we will need some essential kit. Like a telescope.”

“Got one!” said the Crew. She dragged an enormous red rucksack from behind the barrel, rummaged around, and pulled out a brass telescope.

“And a compass.”

“Got one!”

“And a…”

“Log book, hammock, lantern, inkstand, quill pen and barrel of rum. Got them.”

“Gosh,” said Eddy. “Everything but the—”

“Kitchen sink,” interrupted the Crew. “Got one. All that a pirate captain could need.”

“Then where’s my carrot?” asked the Captain. “To sit on my shoulder.”

“Don’t you mean parrot?” asked Eddy.

“Carrot,” said the Captain.

“My books say that pirates had parrots on their shoulders.”

“Your books hadn’t even heard of Grungeybeard,” said the Captain. “I bet they were written by a load of landlubbers who don’t know what they’re talking about. One day one of them puts parrot instead of carrot by mistake and before you know it they’re all copying it. I ask you, who’d want a parrot on his shoulder? It would be forever pecking your earhole and pooing down the back of your coat. Daft idea.”

“And why do you want a carrot?” asked Eddy.

“The sea holds many secrets,” said the Captain. “And that is one of them.”

They found a greengrocer’s shop round the corner. Outside it stood a large sack of carrots. The Captain began to pick through them, and soon spotted a medium-sized one with a slightly wonky end.

“This one’s for me,” he said. “A carrot with character.” He perched it on his right shoulder. The carrot fell off.

“He just needs to find his sea legs,” said the Captain.

“But we’re not at sea,” said Eddy.

“Well there you are then,” answered the Captain. “How could he possibly have found his sea legs when we’re still ashore? And now it’s time we weren’t ashore no more. The waves wait for no man.”

“The harbour’s this way,” said Eddy. “Let’s board your ship.”

“My ship? Rudders and rigging!” shouted the Captain. “I knew there was something else I’d forgotten. Come on – there must be a spare one down there!”

“You can’t just take someone’s ship,” said Eddy. “That’s stealing.”

“It’s not stealing,” said the Captain. “It’s borrowing. It’s what pirates do. It’s amazing what people will lend you after you wave your sword around and shout a bit.”

He broke into a trot. But with his big boots flopping and his long coat flapping and his scabbard getting tangled with his legs, he couldn’t run very fast. And every few strides the ship’s carrot fell off his shoulder and he had to stop to pick it up. So even though Eddy had the yellow painting rolled up under his arm and was dragging the sailor’s chest behind him, and even though the Crew was hauling her enormous red rucksack around, they all reached the harbour together.

“Jellyfish juice,” muttered the Captain. “Where is everybody?”

Twenty years ago, the harbour had been the busiest part of a bustling fishing village. You couldn’t move for boats coming in and out, crates of fish being unloaded, and salty old sailors mending their nets.

Ten years ago, the harbour had been the busiest part of a lively holiday resort. You couldn’t move for visitors taking a boat trip, or buying fish and chips, or visiting the town museum to see a couple of actors pretending to be salty old sailors mending their nets.

Now the fishermen had retired, and the holidaymakers had stopped coming. The harbour was still the busiest place in town. But even the busiest place in Tidemark Bay was almost deserted. By a pile of tattered old fishing nets, two seagulls were squabbling noisily over the crumbs from a packet of prawn cocktail flavoured crisps.

The harbour was empty – apart from a lonely rowing boat that bobbed on the tide.

“Will that do, dearie Captain?” asked the Crew.

“Will it do?” said the Captain. “We’re off to sail the seven seas, not to paddle around a puddle. Course it won’t do.”

Eddy’s face fell. “We can’t get anywhere without a ship,” he said.

The Captain turned to look at him.

“Hang on a minute,” said the Captain. “What’s this, then?”

Behind Eddy stood a large wooden shed that had been decorated to look like an old sailing ship. The walls were curved like a hull, with a pointed prow at one end. The flat roof had low wooden railings running round it, like a deck. A plastic cannon poked through and pointed out over the harbour. A ship’s wheel stood by a flagpole that was painted to look like a mast. Above the remains of some ragged cotton sails a flag fluttered limply in the breeze. The flag bore the faded words Captain Cockle’s Crunchy Cod Cakes.

It was a snack bar. Or rather, it had been a snack bar. Captain Cockle had sold his last crunchy cod cake long ago. The place was closed down and boarded up.

“Come on,” shouted the Captain. He scrambled up a rope ladder that was hanging from the roof, then hauled Eddy and the Crew up after him.

He looked around with a grin.

“Say hello to our new vessel.”

“We can’t sail off in this,” said Eddy.

“Why not?” asked the Captain. “You can’t call this stealing. Look at the state of it. It’s obvious that no one else wants it.”

“We still can’t sail off in it.”

“We’ll bring it back.”

“But we still can’t sail off in it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a shed. You can’t set sail in a shed.”

“Never mind that,” said the Captain. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a black flag with a skull and crossbones on it. “You haul down that tattered old flag and put this up in its place. Crew!”

“Yes, dearie.”

“You mean, ‘Aye aye, Captain’.”

“That’s right, dearie.”

“Cast off and set a course for the high seas.”

“Aye aye, Captain dearie! And by the way…” She tucked the carrot under the gold braid on the shoulder of the Captain’s coat. “There, now. That should stop it falling off any more.”

“This is nuts,” Eddy muttered to himself. He unknotted the rope on the flagpole and pulled down the old Captain Cockle flag. So much for adventure. He’d been really excited. Never mind that his parents didn’t want him around, or that his gran kept losing the plot, or that the local kids were horrible to him. He was going to forget all of that because he was off to find buried treasure and to save his gran’s cottage from falling down. But now, without a ship, it was just another game – and a stupid one. He could have sat on a shed roof and pretended to be a pirate on his own if he’d wanted to. It had turned into a big disappointment – like being offered a huge box of chocolates and then finding out that every one of them was a lime cream. He hated lime creams.

Just as he finished tying the rope to the skull and crossbones flag, the planks beneath his feet suddenly lurched, almost knocking him over. When he looked up, there was no sign of the harbour.

All he could see around him was a great expanse of blue-green water.

He was standing on the deck of a ship. It wasn’t very big, and it was all a bit tatty – the deck was worn and splintered, the rigging was frayed, and the sails that flapped in the wind had been yellowed and gnawed by the weather. But it was definitely a ship. And it was at sea.