Springing Our Trap

My heart gave a leap when William’s voice rang clearly from the radio just a few minutes later.

“Ha-ha-ho!” he laughed. “We just got lucky! Slime-head and his French friend are on their way to the island, and they are on their own. They have left the pirates on the ship.”

It had to be Preston and Tartine that he was talking about – and I wasn’t so sure that it was good news. They were the most dangerous of the gang.

“Tune in to the radio frequency that they use on the Sonata. Remember, I showed you how to do that. Listen, but don’t say a word!”

I did as he said. What was my dog up to? I could only hope that he had a good plan.

I heard him make radio contact with the pirates aboard the Sonata.

“Captain Robberts, this is a friend speaking,” he announced.

“Who are you, what do you want, and where are you?” the chief of the pirates asked suspiciously.

“There will be time to chat later, perhaps, but now it is time for you to check out the video material stored on a CD in cabin thirty-six on the middle deck. You will find it in the upper drawer of the bedside table on the starboard side.”

Robberts was flabbergasted. “Hey, man, what are you talking about?”

“If you value your freedom, you will follow my advice and listen to that CD!” William said sternly before he cut the connection.

I tuned back to our own frequency.

“William, what were you talking about? Which CD?”

“Oh, I took precautions. One boring evening in that linen closet my spy-devices picked up a conversation between those two scumbags, Preston and Tartine. They were plotting to leave the pirates on the ship, together with the passengers, and blow it all to bits after they escaped with the ransom.”

“William, my mother is on that ship!” I exclaimed.

“And that is why I won’t let anything happen to it,” I was assured. “I had the foresight to record their conversation. You can be sure that Robberts and his men will find it most interesting!”

He had a point. Preston and his fat friend would find themselves in hot water as soon as they put their feet back on board the Sonata.

But that did not solve our immediate problems. The two scoundrels were on their way to the island and we were caught like rats in a trap, with nowhere to run. Somehow we had to find our way back to the Sonata and rescue my mother and the other passengers. That ship was laden with explosives! And Preston was a nasty piece of work – what if he got it in his scabby head to blow up the ship sooner?

The day was rapidly warming up. Already it was stifling hot in the tin shed, but the sweat pouring down my brow was not only because of the heat.

“They are getting so close I can see the pimples on old Stupid’s nose,” William warned.

The sound of the rubber dinghy’s engine became audible.

William must have concealed himself very close to their landing spot, because through the radio connection, I could hear the two of them talking to each other as they disembarked.

Tartine was swearing loudly. I guessed that he had stepped onto an urchin when he’d jumped off the boat. I’d seen those urchins with their long, menacing spikes lurking in the shallow water when I’d snorkelled the previous day. Stepping onto one was sure to be a very unpleasant experience!

“Yes, whatever,” Preston’s shrill voice drifted through the ether. “It won’t kill you–” This was interrupted by a sharp howl of pain. I wondered what had happened to him. Perhaps Tartine had given him another one of those sharp slaps behind the head, like we saw him do before.

There was a slit next to the door and I used a screwdriver to open it further so that I could peep through.

On the beach below me, Tartine was still hopping on one leg. I could see some nasty spikes sticking out of the heel of his other foot. My guess was correct. That urchin was going to cause him a lot of trouble and pain for days to come.

Preston was also fuming. “That boy has to be here somewhere. And that mangy rat he keeps for a dog. Right from the start I knew he was going to be a nuisance!”

I took pride in that description.

“Are you sure he is alone?” Tartine panted, still dan­cing on one leg. “I find it difficult to believe a small boy like that can steal Robberts’s boat and come all this way, all alone. How did he find this island?”

“Who knows?” Preston smirked. “But we haven’t told anyone that we are planning to use this island as the place to exchange the ransom for the passengers. This is the only suitable landing strip in this part of the ocean. I am just as surprised as you are to find the pirates’ boat at this precise spot!”

“You are sure there are no adults missing?”

“Yes. I have checked the passenger list again. Everyone else is accounted for, and still safely under the guard of Robberts and his gang. Didn’t you count them yourself?”

“I don’t like this one bit,” his fat friend grumbled.

I watched as they searched the beach. But thanks to the early-morning rain, there were no footprints to be seen.

“But why would the boy come here? The only thing one can get here is heatstroke,” Tartine moaned. He had tied a handkerchief around his head for some protection against the tropical sun. His bulbous nose was already toasted. He stubbed his toe against a rock and I made further acquaintance with the shady side of French vocabulary.

They walked towards our shed. I shrank back away from my peephole and tried not to breathe. I heard one of them fumbling with the lock.

“It’s locked,” Tartine said at the other side of the door. “He wouldn’t have been able to get in here. There is no sign of the boy on this godforsaken island.”

Preston uttered some words that should not be used in civil company. “ . . . if I lay my hands on his scrawny neck!”

Then their voices faded away as the two of them sauntered off towards the landing strip.

When I was sure it was safe to peep out again, I noticed William swimming towards their rubber dingy, his nose held high as he clenched one of our two-way radios between his teeth.

Go, William, go! I silently urged him on. It appeared as though another act of piracy was under way. But was he going to leave me behind, alone on this island with two angry and very dangerous criminals to keep me company?

My dog? Never!

My radio crackled.

“Alex, are you okay? I am in their boat.”

“I saw you, old pal,” I whispered, worried that the two scoundrels were still close enough to overhear.

“Stay where you are. We are going to have some fun!”

Silence descended.

Then I heard Tartine cry out.

They were at the other side of the island and my peephole was facing the wrong way. A rusty nail pierced the opposite wall, and I pulled it out with the back of a hammer and used a screwdriver to make the hole large enough to see through.

Tartine had fallen in the half-covered hole where we had buried the pirate’s chest. Could he not watch where he was going?

Preston tried to help him up, but the Frenchman had badly twisted an ankle – the foot that was not covered in urchin spikes was now injured too. Both his feet were now purple and swollen, and he was sitting flat on his bum in the hot sand, looking very sorry for himself.

But if he needed some sympathy, he was not going to get it from Preston. “You are too fat!” the younger fiend yelled. “No wonder your legs cannot carry you!” Unfortunately for him, he was not safely out of the reach of the Frenchman’s long arm and another sharp slap to the ear sent him staggering across the sand.

“Ouch! Stop hitting me, or–”

“Or what, you miserable cockroach?” Tartine growled, and lurched towards his skinny opponent. But Preston kicked sand in his eyes and made a run for it.

“Come back here! Where do you think you are going?” Tartine was waving his huge, hairy fists in the air while he danced from one painful foot to the other. But he could not see properly, perhaps because of the sand that was still in his eyes and again he stumbled into the hole.

This time, there was a resounding thud as his heavy body collided with the chest.

Preston froze in his tracks. “What was that? Did you hear something? Is there something down there?”

But Tartine just lay there, groaning.

It was all very entertaining. I struggled to stifle my laughter, but the two rascals were so caught up with their discovery of the pirate’s chest that they would not have heard me if I’d blown a foghorn.

It only took them a few seconds to drag the chest free of the hole.

William appeared at his tunnel. He was even wetter than before. “Hand me your radio!” he panted.

“But where is yours?” I asked.

“No time to explain. You’ll see.”

Preston and Tartine were circling the chest, eyeing it greedily.

“It is a pirate’s lost treasure!” Tartine grinned, his painful feet forgotten.

Preston was wringing his hands with glee.

“Come on! Crack it open. I bet it is filled with gold and diamonds!”

But suddenly a voice spoke from right behind them.

“Leave my property in peace!”

The two scoundrels jumped with fright. Preston ripped a pistol from his pocket, and Tartine made a grab for the machine gun, which he had hooked over a low-growing bush nearby.

Back to back, weapons at the ready, they turned round and round, searching for the owner of the ominous voice.

There was no one to be seen.

“It must be the b-boy!” Preston stuttered.

“Nonsense! That was not a boy’s voice,” Tartine argued. “And anyway, where is he?”

They glanced back at the chest. Their fear was obvious. Perhaps the chest did not contain treasure at all. What if the voice came from within the chest? It was too small to be a coffin, but if the inhabitant was perhaps chopped into smaller pieces . . .

Even in broad daylight one’s imagination can run away.

William and I were rolling about with laughter.

“Clever dog!” I praised him. “What a good idea to hide the radio in the bushes!”

“You know,” he said suddenly. “This island is starting to bore me. And I’m hungry. It is time to leave.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The coins in the chest will keep those two vermin occupied for a while. I have knocked a hole in the bottom of their rubber dinghy and sabotaged the engine to make sure they cannot get away. Now is a good time to escape!”

But not before my clever dogtective had his final bit of fun.

“I will not allow you to take my treasure from this island!” he said into the radio, speaking with a deep, spooky voice.

Even I got the shivers. Were those not the very words used by La Buse himself when I met him on the beach in the early hours of that morning?

But that was nothing compared to the effect that the spooky voice had on the two villains. Shots rang out as Tartine wildly pulled the trigger of his machine gun, and in the calamity Preston again stepped on one of his painful feet. His reward was another sharp slap to the head.

While the two of them were jostling with each other, William and I sneaked from the shed and I locked the door behind us. Over my shoulder, I carried my bag, which weighed a ton with all the gold and jewels it contained.

“William, what are we going to do with all of this?” I asked.

“Something good, of course,” came his reply. “Otherwise we shall never be allowed to leave this place.”

I smiled, much relieved.