9781789011234

Also by Tony Main

Ancell’s Quest

Ancell’s

Final Battle

Tony Main

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

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ISBN 9781789011234

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The Topsail Schooner Misty Dawn Sail Plan

The Topsail Schooner Misty Dawn Sail Plan

Misty Dawn’s Crew

Ancell: The dreaming hedgehog sailing in search of the kidnapped orphans.

Captain Albern: A master mariner sea otter.

Skeet: The second mate. A young stoat, always in a hurry.

Chad: A plain speaking, streetwise common rat. The ship’s bosun.

Chips: The ship’s carpenter. An industrious beaver and an unstoppable story teller.

Waff: The sailmaker. A taciturn polecat. Rarely speaks other than to contradict the carpenter’s unlikely tales.

Tam and Thom: Able seamen long tailed field mice. Twins who know what the other is thinking.

Pickle and Jobey: Less able field mice seamen. Pickle ever hopeful and Jobey certain of disaster.

The Cook: A crossbreed of uncertain ancestry. Kindly, but not even Capt. Albern dares enter his galley without permission.

Merrie: A young and very small harvest mouse stowaway. Good hearted but far too self-important for his size.

Doc: A pompous, one winged, accident prone tawny owl. Always knows best and always causes chaos.

The Children

Sassy: Worked as a laundress for two bowls of soup a day.

Chantal: Blessed with a beautiful voice, she sang in the market square for a living.

Max: Made his home in an upturned rowing boat abandoned on the beach. Collected driftwood to sell for kindling.

Noname: The unknown boy calling for help in Ancell’s dreams.

‘The Orca – eight tons of pure power.’

National Geographic Society

Chapter 1

Ancell watched the coast of Australia recede, and shuddered. It looked so peaceful now. Just the mangrove trees swaying in the long swell of the Indian Ocean, and deserted but for a distant sea eagle circling in the sunshine. Yet it was there that Laughing Jack’s band of pirates would have boarded “Misty Dawn” and murdered him and every single one of her crew.

Chad joined him at the ship’s rail. ‘Dreaming again!’ the rat chided, as Misty heeled to a freshening breeze.

‘Not dreaming,’ replied Ancell. ‘But it is hard to believe that not long ago Laughing Jack was about to hang us, and now we’ve rescued the children and escaped with our lives.’

‘Alive thanks to Hector’s bravery,’ added Chad. ‘I would never have believed a crocodile could move so fast. If it wasn’t for him we wouldn’t be sailing home, and those sharks would be feasting on us instead of Laughing Jack’s thugs.’

Ancell nodded. It seemed a lifetime since he had dreamed of Noname, and set sail on “Misty Dawn” to search for the boy who had once saved his life. He and Misty’s crew had faced many perils and suffered the loss of Trueguard, their beloved first mate, on their long voyage to the other side of the world. Now Noname – as well as Sassy, Chantal and Max, were safely on board, he just prayed for a safe and uneventful passage home.

He turned to listen to the children talking excitedly on the quarterdeck. Chantal and Max were arguing that the most amazing part of their rescue was their flight through the land set ablaze by Jandamarra, the aborigine boy who had risked so much to help them, but Sassy was insisting that her ride through the night in Hector’s jaws had been even more wonderful. Ancell smiled, but then noticed Noname standing apart, still shivering with fright at the narrowness of his escape.

‘You’ve nothing to fear now,’ he told the boy, limping to join him. ‘Misty will see you safely home. You can forget about Laughing Jack.’

Noname shook his head. ‘No, I can’t! He’s still got Ruth and Ryan.’

‘Ruth and Ryan?’

‘They’re orphans too. They were kidnapped with me, but they were put ashore to work in Laughing Jack’s camp in another country. They were kind to me and I must try to rescue them.’

Ancell’s heart sank. ‘Which country?’ he forced himself to ask.

Noname looked up, distraught. ‘I don’t know,’ he wept.

Captain Albern was talking to Chad when Ancell hastily interrupted to repeat Noname’s news.

‘So our task is not yet at an end’ murmured the sea otter. ‘Mr Skeet!’ he called, beckoning the stoat to his side, and noticing Doc climbing from the companionway, signalled the owl to join them.

‘Some task as we haven’t a clue where the children are,’ Chad muttered. He turned to Ancell. ‘You’re the dreamer. Jandamarra took you to meet the prophet who was meant to know the future. Surely you can come up with something?’

Ancell shut his eyes, picturing himself beside the sage. Slowly fragments of the old man’s words formed in his mind. Almost trance like, he began to speak.

‘He told me I must travel to the middle of the world…to a land of forests where animals swing through the trees by their tails…a land of many rivers, one as wide as the sea…a land where I must seek the help of those who kill with a puff of their cheeks.’ He opened his eyes, feeling a little giddy.

‘Lot of nonsense,’ Chad grumbled.

‘I suppose the animals are monkeys, not that it helps as they live in over half the world,’ said Skeet.

Chad smirked. ‘Seeing as you’ve got no tail, they certainly won’t be hedgehogs!’ he told Ancell.

‘The equator is the middle of the world,’ stated Capt. Albern. ‘Mr Skeet, name me a river that flows out at the equator.’

‘The Amazon?’ replied the second mate.

‘Exactly, and the estuary is wider than the sea between England and France.’

‘Blowpipes!’ boomed Doc.

‘What are you going on about now?’ sighed Skeet.

‘You may wish to know that there are tribes in the Amazon basin who hunt with poisoned darts they blow through long pipes,’ instructed Doc.

‘Then we sail for South America,’ said Skeet, and Capt. Albern nodded.

Noname was delighted at the news, and Sassy, Chantal and Max immediately agreed that Ruth and Ryan must be rescued. Ancell shivered, remembering Laughing Jack furiously pacing the shore as he watched Misty escape.

‘Now what’s wrong?’ said Chad. ‘You should be pleased that at least your dreaming is pointing us in the right direction.’

‘But what if Laughing Jack chases us?’ said Ancell. ‘What if he catches up with us? He’ll sink us!’

Chad chuckled. ‘Granted he won’t be very pleased with you. So far, you’ve rescued his child labour, burned his camp to a cinder and cost him the lives of half his crew. But he knows he’d never sight us in the vastness of the Indian Ocean. Much as he’d like to put an end to us, we won’t see him again.’

‘Nor Scarletta, I hope,’ added Ancell. ‘Killing is just a way of life for Laughing Jack. But Scarletta really wanted to see us hang.’

Chad nodded. ‘That’s true. It’s said she was very beautiful before she was wounded when fighting her way out of jail for murdering her husband, and her revenge for the rapier thrust that scarred her face is to kill whoever dares to cross her.’

Ancell shivered again. He could only hope the Indian Ocean was as big as Chad had promised.

Chapter 2

The children and Misty’s crew had no such fears of Laughing Jack, and their triumphant defeat of the pirates was the sole topic of conversation throughout the ship. Pickle soon put their adventure into verse, and many an evening as Misty chased the setting sun, he leaned against the foremast, strumming his guitar while Chantal sang the story of their escape. Their recital so pleased everyone, it was decided to seek the captain’s permission to hold an official performance. Capt. Albern readily agreed, thankful for anything that would keep the children out of trouble for however brief a time. How to occupy them during the months to come, he had not the faintest idea. He called Skeet and Chad to the quarterdeck. ‘What are we going to do about the children?’ he asked.

‘Make them work watches. Four hours on and four hours off and they’ll sleep most of the time,’ advised Chad. However, this was discounted as too dangerous at night, and anyway Max had already nearly fallen from the rigging, which they were now banned from climbing.

‘They ought to be in school. How about Doc giving them some lessons?’ suggested the second mate.

‘Well said Mr Skeet!’ declared Capt. Albern gratefully, and sent for Doc.

Delighted at the suggestion, Doc immediately reeled off a syllabus for a rounded education. The timetable would require a complete reorganisation of the ship’s day, including a change of mealtimes, he explained. But granted the authority he would mastermind the undertaking. Capt. Albern looked uneasy at the thought of Doc masterminding anything, and Skeet observed that unless the owl wished to lose a lot of weight very quickly, he had best not interfere with The Cook’s routine. Chad stood open-mouthed at Doc’s broadside of subjects from algebra to zoology.

‘Where’s the value in that?’ he growled. ‘We’re at sea! They need to learn about the ship and the weather. What’s the use of an equation in a hurricane!’

To Capt. Albern’s relief, rather than crushing Chad with a sharp rebuttal, Doc regarded the ship’s bosun thoughtfully.

‘That’s the most sensible argument I’ve heard from you during the entire voyage,’ replied the owl.

Sensing that Doc had accepted he had made a valid point, Chad strolled to the rail and spat conclusively over the side. Capt. Albern seized the moment. Doc was to prepare the academic lessons and Chad to plan a programme of the skills required to sail a ship.

A chorus of alarm from the children interrupted the debate as an old canvas bucket they were kicking about the deck sailed over the side.

Capt. Albern grimaced. ‘And term to start at the earliest moment possible,’ he instructed.

‘What about Chantal and Pickle’s performance?’ prompted Skeet.

Doc pricked up his ears. ‘What performance?’

‘Their song about the escape.’

‘Wonderful!’ boomed the owl. ‘I’ll produce it as a musical. It’ll be psychologically good for the children to act out their sufferings, especially Noname – he’s hardly uttered a word since he stepped on board.’

Chad’s eyes narrowed. ‘What sort of good did you say?’

‘A musical would be an enjoyable occasion,’ interrupted Capt. Albern quickly.

‘Sounds fun,’ agreed Skeet.

‘Lots of fun,’ confirmed Doc.

‘So why didn’t you say so in the first place?’ grumbled Chad.

Doc’s production was simple. Chantal was to sing a verse and the cast were to mime the action. On the day of the performance the daily chores of painting and scrubbing were suspended, The Cook served an early lunch, and Capt. Albern took the helm.

Pickle struck a dramatic chord and announced the world premiere of:

“Heroes all! Four valiant children vanquish the monstrous Laughing Jack – as witnessed by the acclaimed poet, Pickle”.

Chantal sang the first verse, and to an enthusiastic round of applause, Sassy acted her wanderings in the desert. To even louder applause, Max then played the role of Jandamarra, who had saved her life. An eruption of boos and hisses greeted Chips, playing Laughing Jack, and Waff in the guise of his evil lieutenant, Scarletta. Dressed in a mop as a hairpiece and a skirt sewn from scraps of canvas, Waff lunged threateningly at anyone who caught his eye, and Chips, unable to keep his mouth shut for long, dispensed with mime and vowed to put everyone in chains. Ancell’s role in his cliff top fight with Larren was to wrestle with Chad, who had demanded to play the part of the treacherous grey squirrel. Ancell gave the bosun a half-hearted push and quickly hobbled off stage while Chad commenced a long portrayal of Larren’s fatal fall by staggering from one end of the deck to the other, writhing in agony and collapsing at regular intervals. Chantal made three attempts to start the next verse, only to see the rat rise again to enter another final death throe.

‘We get the point, Chad!’ yelled Skeet.

Chad glared at the stoat and concluded his performance with a final ghastly gurgle.

With a push from Doc, Noname walked the length of the deck to depict his lonely trek to freedom. He completed the journey to shouts of encouragement, but quickly ran trembling to Ancell’s side. Although Merrie, determined to be in every scene, had to be dragged off stage at regular intervals, the performance ended in triumphant chaos, with Laughing Jack and Scarletta chasing everyone one way, and everyone chasing the two villains the other until they all collapsed in a joyful heap.

Ancell watched and smiled, but tears pricked his eyes as he thought of Truegard, and how the gentle red squirrel would have loved to hear the children’s laughter. Distancing himself from the rough and tumble, he limped to Capt. Albern standing alone at the wheel, the first mate he had loved so well no longer at his side. For a while they stood in silence, listening to the cast’s analysis of the production. Jobey was demanding to know why the verse describing their first encounter with Hector referred to him as a deckhand of sorts, yet Pickle as a seaman of renown and style. Pickle blithely explained this was to make the line scan and he needed a word to rhyme with crocodile. He had more difficulty pacifying Chips, who was demanding a complete rewrite because his crucial role of volunteering to enter Hector’s jaws had been totally ignored.

‘I wish Truegard was here,’ said Ancell.

‘We all do. No one more than me,’ replied the captain.

‘If Larren had not murdered him, he’d be enjoying seeing the children safely on board. Why should Larren have hated him so?’

‘Larren sought to command Misty. Truegard stood in his way. There was a strength in Truegard that Larren knew he could never overcome. Truegard lost his life for all our sakes and made the children’s rescue possible. He may not be here, but he will be remembered for as long as Misty sails.’

‘It was Truegard who gave me the courage to face Laughing Jack.’

Capt. Albern looked up at the billowing sails. ‘And should that time come once more, will do so again,’ he said.

Doc joined them as Misty surged forward on a following sea. Ancell winced as the owl staggered into him, giving his bad leg a hard knock.

‘Our play is done!’ Doc proclaimed. ‘What did you think of it Skipper?’

Capt. Albern searched for words. ‘Very…err…well…very dramatic,’ he concluded.

‘Absolutely!’ agreed Doc. He regarded Ancell sadly. ‘You lack stage presence. There’s nothing you can do about it.’

Late that evening, Capt. Albern sat at the chart table in his cabin, listening to Doc’s proposed timetable. Doc was disappointed the captain seemed more interested in the length of the school day than the educational content of the syllabus. The sea otter’s only question was when the classes would begin.

‘I’d like a couple of days to do some lesson planning,’ said Doc.

‘Not tomorrow?’

‘I could, but…’

‘Tomorrow then! Excellent! Well done!’ beamed Capt. Albern.

Doc stacked his papers, a little crestfallen at the brevity of the discussion.

‘Incidentally, is drama included?’ asked the captain, paying great interest in sharpening a pencil.

Doc brightened. ‘That’s a thought Skipper! It’s not, but I could easily…’

‘Definitely not!’ Capt. Albern interrupted quickly. ‘I wouldn’t dream of interfering with your programme – don’t change a thing!’

In his cabin, Ancell tossed and turned restlessly on his bunk as Laughing Jack appeared in his dreams. The pirate was swimming towards him armed with a knife and he was struggling to flee but could not move. He woke with a start to find himself tangled up in his blankets. Capt. Albern had promised that Truegard would give him courage, and it seemed as if he was going to need it.

Chapter 3

Capt. Albern unfolded a chart of the Cape of Good Hope on a warm sunlit Monday and with quiet satisfaction marked Misty’s noon position.

‘We’re doing well,’ commented Skeet, leaning over his shoulder.

‘Couldn’t ask for better,’ acknowledged the captain.

Misty had steered a course a little to the north of west, edging into the Tropic of Capricorn to take advantage of the favourable South Equatorial current, and week in and week out the southeast trade winds had fulfilled their promise to blow her west. Now she had to turn south again to face the big seas surging round the southernmost point of Africa. Only when clear of that dangerous Cape of Storms would she be free to follow a northwesterly course across the Atlantic to her South American landfall.

Mondays, the day of Doc’s weekly tests, were not welcomed by the children. Sitting on the afterdeck, they frowned and chewed their pencils as they laboured to complete a maths paper.

‘Finished!’ announced Sassy, drawing a line beneath her script with a flourish and lying back to watch a fleet of cotton wool clouds sail above Misty’s swaying masts.

‘What answers have you got?’ asked Max. Sassy read out her results.

‘Agreed,’ said Max and Chantal.

‘Me too,’ added Noname. ‘What about you Merrie?’

Merrie quickly folded his paper, which was largely blank. He thought having the children on board had done him no favours whatsoever. He had enjoyed telling them of the dangers he had faced on Misty’s outward passage and of the critical role he had played in their rescue, but now with every lesson his status as an important member of the crew was being reduced to that of the dunce of the class. On the day Doc had informed him he was to be a pupil, he had rushed to The Cook with ten good reasons why he should be excused, only for The Cook to inform him that he had suggested it in the first place.

‘You were good at learning the knots Tam taught us,’ said Noname, sensing his discomfort.

Merrie shrugged. Tying knots was about the only thing he was any good at. Even so, when Tam had asked them to tie a bowline blindfolded, Noname had been much faster. Noname was better than him at everything. He glared sourly at his classmate and without a word stalked for’ard to climb to the crowsnest, taking comfort from demonstrating what Noname was forbidden to do.

Apart from the exams, the children had found the timetable for the most part bearable, especially with the emphasis on the practical work while the weather held fair. The carpentry classes held by Chips were enjoyable, if only for his highly unlikely tales of imperilled ships miraculously saved by the carpenter’s skill, though they did learn to saw in a straight line on a rolling deck. Waff’s sail making lessons were less popular, and, as Max grumbled, seemed never ending. They were not surprised when the polecat informed them a sailmaker’s work was never done. Tam, Thom, Pickle and Jobey taught them to identify every part of Misty’s rigging and why the various knots and hitches were used for different purposes. For every ship that Chips had saved, Jobey was able to tell of at least two that had foundered because of a frayed rope or a jammed block, and so numerous were the catastrophes he could recite, Chantal observed to Sassy that it was a miracle a single ship was left afloat.

Saturday afternoons were fun when Pickle taught them jigs and reels, and often the crew would join in, The Cook leaning on the galley, clapping the beat. In the evening as the sun dipped below the horizon, they lolled on deck listening to Chantal’s lilting voice sing sad spirituals and haunting sea shanties. Even Chips sat in silence, and Jobey was observed to wipe away a tear.

The high spot of the syllabus was to be woken deep in the night to take sights of the stars with Capt. Albern. Spherical trigonometry made sense when it was a matter of plotting Misty’s position. They remained on deck for as long as possible, feeling the exhilarating sense of speed as Misty plunged through the dark, her masts sweeping silently across a sky studded with a million twinkling pinpricks of light.

‘It’s vast! Absolutely vast!’ pronounced Max, climbing into his bunk one night after his turn on deck. ‘And I’ve just established exactly where we are in all the wide world.’

‘What’s vast?’ yawned Chantal.

‘The sky, all those stars, everything.’

‘As big as Merrie’s head?’ muttered Sassy.

‘He only tells those stories because he can’t do maths,’ said Max.

Sassy was not appeased. Because of Merrie’s lack of attention that afternoon, Doc had irritably set them all an additional test.

‘If he dwelt less on his exploits maybe he’d learn,’ she sniffed.

‘He’s good at climbing the mast. I wish I was allowed to,’ said Noname.

‘But he’s a member of the crew,’ said Max.

‘I wish I was,’ sighed Noname.

Chapter 4

The weather deteriorated as Misty turned south, and often the children awoke to the thump of big seas, sheets of cold spray rattling her rolling deck as she butted into headwinds beneath a sky of grey scudding cloud.

At the end of a squally day, during which the crew had twice reduced canvas, Noname hovered at the galley door.

‘Please can I have a bucket of steam?’ he asked.

The Cook frowned. ‘Who sent you?’

‘Merrie – he wants to clean something.’

‘He was teasing.’

Noname’s face fell. He had been pleased Merrie had asked for his help. Now he felt a fool.

‘You’ve called just at the right time,’ added The Cook quickly. ‘You can help me make a soup of some of Jandamarra’s provisions.’

Noname brightened, and soon a yellowy liquid was coming to the boil. They sipped.

‘It’s good,’ announced Noname. ‘It kind of tastes of apricots.’

‘Then apricot soup it is,’ said The Cook.

He watched Noname nimbly scramble aft, and spying Merrie climbing from the fo’c’sle, beckoned him to the galley. He regarded the harvest mouse sombrely.

‘That was unkind,’ he said.

Merrie stood his ground. ‘Just a joke! What does it matter? What’s for dinner?’

‘Everything matters,’ replied The Cook. ‘Everything you do or say. It’s like throwing a stone into a pond. The ripples spread for good or bad, and once you’ve thrown the stone you can’t stop them. Why make Noname feel stupid?’

‘It was just a bit of fun,’ shrugged Merrie.

‘You’ve not answered my question.’

‘He’s so lucky! He’s so good at everything!’ burst out Merrie. ‘He can even do maths. He’s finished his homework and I haven’t even started.’

‘Then ask him to show you.’

It had never occurred to Merrie to ask for help, but he liked the thought of surprising Doc with a page of correct answers.

‘Suppose I could,’ he muttered.

‘I’ll allow the two of you to work here in the galley after dinner,’ offered The Cook.

The moment the meal was over, Merrie thrust the offending questions under Noname’s nose.

‘The Cook said you’d do this with me,’ he announced abruptly, and was surprised when Noname readily agreed.

The galley was empty but for the aroma of baking. Noname sniffed appreciatively.

‘We might get a snack if we work until The Cook comes back,’ he speculated.

‘Worth a try,’ agreed Merrie, glancing at Noname with increasing respect.

They worked until Merrie’s groans and sighs ceased as understanding dawned, and were on the last question when The Cook returned to slide a tray of golden brown biscuits from the oven.

‘Time to turn in,’ he told them.

‘All this thinking has made us too hungry to sleep,’ complained Merrie.

The Cook handed over a plateful, and ignoring the nudge of triumph Merrie gave Noname, stepped from the galley, shivering a little in the chill of the evening. He thought he would give them ten minutes more to themselves.

‘Good thinking about getting something to eat,’ Merrie complimented Noname, through a mouthful of crumbs. ‘I’m sorry about the bucket of steam – it’s just that I get fed up with lessons and you always get everything right. You’re so lucky!’

Noname stared at the harvest mouse in amazement. ‘Me lucky! You’re the lucky one! You’re a member of the crew. You belong to Misty. I don’t belong anywhere. You’re allowed to climb the mast and I’m not. I don’t even have a proper name.’

‘It’s not much of a name,’ agreed Merrie.

‘I told Ancell I had no name because all the orphanages I was in called me any name they wished, so he called me Noname. I’ve never had a proper name of my own.’

‘What would you like to be called?’

‘Don’t know,’ said Noname unhelpfully. ‘Perhaps something to do with Misty or the sea.’

‘How about Hurricane? Typhoon sounds even better.’

‘I’d like a name that’s mine only,’ insisted Noname.

The Cook stepped in out of the cold. He glanced at the two of them talking earnestly and smiled.

‘Bed! And be quick about it!’ he said, warming himself by the stove.

‘Noname wants to climb the mast,’ replied Merrie.

‘That’s up to the skipper.’

‘And he wants a better name.’

The Cook smiled wistfully. ‘He wouldn’t be the first to wish that,’ he said. ‘Now get out of here or you’ll get no breakfast.’

Huddling close together at the stern rail, Sassy and Chantal gazed across the wastes of water as night fell.

‘Do you think we’ll see him?’ wondered Sassy.

Chantal shivered. ‘I hope not.’

‘See who?’ asked Waff, who was inspecting Misty’s ensign.

‘The “Flying Dutchman”. Chips told us we may see him here, seeking ships to lure to their destruction because he was condemned to sail for eternity after cursing The Almighty in a storm,’ said Sassy.

‘Absolute nonsense!’ bristled Waff. ‘I don’t know where Chips got such a story.’

‘So it’s not true?’ said Chantal with relief.

‘He certainly sails here about The Cape,’ Waff confirmed. ‘But his sin was to betray his true love, and his punishment is to sail forever to seek her forgiveness.’

‘At least your “Flying Dutchman” doesn’t wreck ships,’ observed Sassy.

‘Oh yes he does! He’s mad with grief,’ retorted Waff, and leaving them with the uncomforting thought, strode off to put Chips right.

Merrie sat in the foc’s’le deep in thought. He had obtained no more than a vague promise from Skeet that Noname would be allowed to climb the mast one day, and none of the crew he had so far badgered had been able to suggest a name Noname might like.

‘Who’s the best sailor the world has ever known?’ he asked Pickle.

Pickle raised his head from his bunk and wrinkled his nose. ‘Captain Cook would rank high, especially as a navigator.’

‘What was his first name?’

‘James.’

Merrie sighed. It was not an inspiring name.

‘Who’s the best sailor you’ve ever known?’ he persisted.

‘The skipper, and Truegard of course.’

‘Could we call Noname after Mr Truegard?’

‘Certainly not!’ retorted Jobey.

‘It would not be right. There was only one Truegard,’ said Pickle.

After what had become a regular session of homework with Noname in the galley, Merrie raised the rebuff he had received from Pickle and Jobey with The Cook.

‘Truegard sounds a very special name. What was he like?’ asked Noname.

‘The best,’ answered The Cook.

‘Can’t you think of a name like Truegard?’ Merrie implored, grabbing the last biscuit before Noname could stretch for it.

The Cook regarded Noname thoughtfully. ‘We lost Truegard and we found you. Perhaps you should have part of his name to remember him by. How does Truename sound to you?’

‘Truename,’ repeated Noname, ‘I like it!’ Merrie thought Noname grew in stature even as he said it.

‘I’ll talk to the crew, and if they agree, we’ll ask the skipper,’ offered The Cook.

It was blowing hard when Merrie and Noname stepped from the galley.

‘You’ll have the best name of all,’ yelled Merrie above the wind.

‘I hope so,’ shouted Noname. ‘And Merrie…’

‘What?’

‘Thanks!’

Merrie grinned. He felt extraordinarily pleased with himself.

Misty’s crew were in no hurry to consent to the use of any part of Truegard’s name, but after several days of periodic debate, it was generally agreed that Truegard would approve, and as they could think of no better name, Skeet was requested to put the proposal to the captain.

The second mate did so one blustery evening. He stood a little nervously in the captain’s cabin, watching the old sea otter as he spoke. Capt. Albern said nothing as the swinging lantern threw dancing shadows across the chart table, and Skeet wondered how many voyages with Truegard his skipper was remembering.

‘It would give the boy confidence,’ he submitted, ‘and strangely enough he’s a natural sailor. Everything on board comes easily to him.’

Capt. Albern nodded slowly. ‘So I’ve noticed. I think Truegard would be pleased.’

‘Then do you agree? Noname would be delighted.’

‘Then Truename he shall be. Once we’re round The Cape we’ll have a proper ceremony. Who thought of the name?’

‘The Cook.’

The sea otter smiled. ‘That was kind of him.’

‘How do you mean Skipper?’

But the stoat’s question remained unanswered as, still smiling to himself, the captain bade him good night.

Chapter 5

Misty had to work hard for two more weeks before she cleared the dangers of the Cape, but at last Capt. Albern left his charts and climbed on deck to give Skeet a northwesterly course. Pickle span the wheel and there was a quiet sense of celebration on board as the crew trimmed the yards.

The crew looked forward to the Atlantic crossing. Soon the trusty southeast trade winds would again fill the sails and deliver them to the warm waters of the tropics. Most importantly they would soon be able to enjoy periods of four hours uninterrupted sleep.

The albatross dampened their spirits. At first no more than a distant shadow almost lost among the waves, it steadily closed the distance between them. Speeding low over the water, the great bird accelerated to drift effortlessly so close beneath Misty’s stern, they were able to look down on its magnificent wingspan, stretching more than half as wide as the ship. Capt. Albern watched with a sense of foreboding. Albatrosses usually kept their distance, taking no more than a disdainful look at Misty’s crude efforts to butt, splash, pitch and roll across the oceans they commanded with such ease. He recognised it as a Wandering Albatross, and wondered what should bring it so far north of the Southern Ocean’s icy waters to pay them such close attention. With a barely perceptible movement of its powerful wings, the bird rose to coast alongside the quarterdeck. Capt. Albern made a half bow and Skeet waved a little uncertainly. Merrie stared at the long pinkish yellow beak and shuddered. The albatross regarded them with soulful eyes.

‘Beware!’ it croaked. ‘The dreamer leads you into danger.’

Everyone on board tensed.

‘What danger do you speak of?’ called Capt. Albern.

‘Beware of the three-fingered man,’ replied the bird. It eyed Capt. Albern. ‘And beware the man who would flog you to your death. Change course for a safe passage, or face a watery grave.’

‘Who is this three-fingered man?’ asked Capt. Albern.

The albatross rose a little. ‘The pity is I know no more. I have travelled far to warn you, but more I cannot do,’ it called sorrowfully, and wheeled away to skim the wave tops on its solitary passage across the lonely oceans. Everyone watched in silence until the bird was lost to sight.

‘Good of him to warn us. Better to have notice of danger than not,’ announced Capt. Albern stoutly.

‘Skipper, who wants you dead?’ asked Skeet.

The sea otter brushed the question aside with a shrug.

‘All we have to watch out for is a man with three fingers,’ said Pickle.

‘Apart from a watery death – we’ll probably sink any moment,’ added Jobey.

‘I’m the dreamer. I’m the trouble. Put me ashore in South America and sail for home,’ muttered Ancell, though dreading what would become of him.

Chad grinned. ‘We’ve long known you were trouble, but the right sort of trouble. Anyway, those albatrosses are always pessimistic. Never known one say anything cheerful.’

Nevertheless, a sense of disquiet settled over the crew. There was not one among them who did not take the albatross’s warning seriously and nerves were on edge. Waff lost his temper with Chips for being uncharacteristically silent, and Pickle furiously condemned Jobey for prophesising yet another calamity before he had even opened his mouth.

The Cook knew what Capt. Albern was going to ask the moment the sea otter poked his head round the galley door.

‘I’ll do an extra pudding for dinner,’ he offered.

‘Excellent!’ replied Capt. Albern gratefully. ‘How did you know what I wanted?’

‘A treat – something to lift everyone’s spirits.’

The captain smiled. ‘What would we do without you?’

‘Starve,’ said The Cook.

The sea otter hesitated. ‘I don’t suppose you could make a treacle tart from Jandamarra’s provisions?’

‘Not a chance.’

‘Just a thought, but I suppose that’s too much to ask,’ said Capt. Albern sadly, and left The Cook to ponder how to meet the challenge.

Misty’s crew and the children tucked into the surprise extra dish with relish, a large slice of crumbled biscuits steeped in a sweet aromatic liqueur brewed from Jandamarra’s supply of herbs, which The Cook informed them was an aboriginal recipe for treacle tart.

Sassy licked the last crumbs from her fingers. ‘You’ll sleep well tonight! No dreaming of Laughing Jack,’ she told Chantal.

Chantal, who still had nightmares about Laughing Jack, smiled. ‘If he’d been fed puddings like this as a child I do believe he’d be the nicest man alive!’

‘What’s more,’ said Jobey, ‘if that albatross had had a portion he’d be the happiest bird that ever flew.’

Seventy miles south of Misty, the albatross watched a ship sailing hard under full sail in heavy seas. The bird veered away from the company of the black-hulled vessel, preferring the solitude of the sky and the sea. It had warned the best it could.

At the helm of “The Executioner”, Laughing Jack cursed as a topgallant sail split and screamed at the crew to secure the flogging tatters of canvas.

‘You’re driving her too hard. That’s the second sail that’s ripped this week, and we’ve already lost one man overboard,’ warned Scarletta.

‘I don’t care how many sails we shred, and I don’t care how many men we lose. If that hedgehog is sailing for South America as you say, I want to be ready for him,’ snarled Laughing Jack.

‘He’ll come. He’s a dreamer. That is what makes him dangerous. He’ll come for the children.’

‘But this time I’ll be waiting. He may sail for the children, but I swear he won’t sail away,’ promised Laughing Jack.

Chapter 6

As Misty romped through blue seas flecked with white horses one warm Sunday morning, Noname waited impatiently on the quarterdeck with Sassy, Chantal and Max for his naming ceremony to begin. Chad formally piped Capt. Albern from his cabin, and the crew came to attention as the sea otter appeared from the companionway. He was wearing a pristine new cap for the occasion, which, noticing the crew struggling not to laugh, he hastily tucked under his arm. Skeet nudged Chips and pointed to his bowler, which the carpenter deferentially removed. Chips then elbowed Waff and pointed to his pipe, which the sailmaker apologetically hid behind his back.

Capt. Albern cleared his throat. ‘Today is a very special day,’ he announced, ‘for we are gathered here to witness the naming of this young boy.’ He faced Noname. ‘Under the authority conferred upon me as Master of “Misty Dawn”, I now name you Truename,’ he said, and smiling, stepped forward to present Truename with a roll of parchment tied with a red ribbon.

Truename felt so happy he was afraid he would cry.

‘Thank you very much,’ he mumbled.

Capt. Albern smiled gently. ‘It’s a good name, a name to be proud of, and I’m sure it will serve you well.’

Chips then made a presentation on behalf of the crew of a teak plaque, on which he had carved “Truename” and a relief of Misty in full sail. It was to be nailed to his bunk, Chips told him. The Cook followed, carrying a large cake.

‘Can Merrie have a big bit?’ whispered Truename.

‘Only because it’s your special day and you say so,’ grumbled The Cook.

‘Thanks, Truename!’ breathed Merrie, marvelling at the double slice he received. ‘What’s written on your scroll?’

Truename untied the ribbon and unrolled the parchment, which officially confirmed his new name, penned in the skipper’s best copperplate handwriting. The document was signed Morgan Albern, Master Mariner, and stamped with a red candle wax seal. Merrie gave a low whistle. ‘Now that is something special!’ he said.

‘The best thing I’ve ever had,’ said Truename.

Week in and week out Misty held her course and the sun grew warmer. According to the charts she had inched half way round the world, but on deck her position never changed. She was always at the centre of a circle of sea, and by the time Skeet interrupted a class one afternoon to inform the children they were less than two hundred miles from the Brazilian coast, they were more than prepared to accept Doc’s assertion that the world was seventy-one per cent water.

Standing at the bow, Ancell wondered what South America held in store. Chad joined him.

‘From what I can remember of the instructions your bone man friend gave you,’ said the bosun, ‘the children are somewhere up the Amazon, which Doc tells me is some four thousand miles long, has five hundred tributaries, and flows through two thousand seven hundred square miles of rainforest. No chance of you being a bit more specific I suppose?’

‘I just know Ruth and Ryan are there. Something will happen.’

‘With you around it probably will,’ grunted the rat.

‘But what if Laughing Jack and Scarletta are following us?’

‘Forget them and look on the bright side. Compare Truename now with the terrified urchin you found. What’s more, he’ll make a fine sailor.’

Ancell brightened. Chad was right. Truename had long ceased to cling to him and grew more confident by the day.

‘Hedgehogs used to be called urchins,’ he remarked inconsequentially.

Chad was quick off the mark. ‘That doesn’t surprise me – you’re not exactly the most svelte of creatures, in fact decidedly lumpy compared to us rats.’

Ancell heaved a sigh. ‘And now you’re going to tell me what a wonderful tail you have.’

‘Watch this!’ commanded Chad, and curled his tail round the ship’s rail. Balancing on one leg, he raised the other behind him in the pose of a ballet dancer.

‘One day someone’s going to wrap that tail of yours round your neck,’ warned Ancell. Chad performed a pirouette and Ancell could not help but laugh.

‘At least I’ve got a smile out of you,’ said the rat. ‘Now stop worrying about Laughing Jack and concentrate on finding the children.’

One morning, the sea turned brown.

‘It’s the mud washed down the Amazon river,’ Skeet informed Merrie. The harvest mouse quickly climbed to the crowsnest to be the first to sight land. He returned disappointed.

‘I can’t see a coast.’

‘Nor will you for days. We are still a hundred miles off shore.’

Merrie sighed, it seemed they were never going to arrive, and another day of lessons was about to begin.

‘Truename hasn’t climbed the mast yet. You promised!’ he reminded the second mate. Skeet glanced at the languid swell and looked up at the sails, barely filling in the gentle breeze.

‘I’ll speak to the skipper, and if he agrees I’ll have a word with Doc,’ he consented.

Preoccupied with Misty’s estimated position and a table of tidal streams, Capt. Albern nodded his assent, and Skeet asked Doc if he had any objections to the exercise replacing the morning’s class. To his surprise the owl had none.

‘They’ve got that end of term feeling. Nothing is registering anyway,’ he admitted. He had struggled to hold the children’s attention ever since they had learned South America was not far distant, and had even coerced Ancell and Chad to give what he had intended to be a series of lectures.

Ancell talked about the countryside he remembered so well – the snowdrops bravely promising spring in the cold of winter, the banks of primroses, bluebell woods, fields of buttercups, and the flame red poppies of high summer. Closing his eyes, he breathed the sweet scent of honeysuckle. He opened them to a gentle snore. It was Max, and if the remainder of the class were listening, it was through closed eyes.

Doc had listened to his admission of failure with a shrug. ‘I’m not surprised,’ he said. ‘I gave you the first period after lunch which is always the hardest.’

Chad was to have explained the importance of the great ports of the world and how they brought trade and wealth to the country they served. However, his recollection of harbours was of waterfront bars and brawls. He was describing a fight in San Francisco, which had been so satisfactory, the combatants still conscious the following morning had returned to replace the saloon door and mend the furniture, when Chantal interrupted.

‘What was the fight about?’

Chad looked perplexed. ‘I have no idea! Why do you ask?’

‘What was the point of it then?’ persisted Chantal.

Chad had been unable to answer, and on the pretext of urgent work to do, had fled to the sanctuary of the bosun’s locker, where he sat pondering Chantal’s question.

‘Seemed worthwhile at the time,’ he muttered.

Climbing the mast was a great success. With Tam and Thom at hand, Sassy, Chantal, Max and Truename each made the crowsnest to wave triumphantly to the crew below. Sassy and Chantal moved cautiously, Max started fast, contrary to advice, then stopped half way before continuing very slowly, and Truename walked up as if he had been doing it all his life.

Their achievement was the lunchtime topic of conversation.

‘The deck and all of you looked so small from up there,’ said Chantal.

‘Scary! agreed Sassy. ‘I felt quite shaky when I got down.’

‘You’ll get used to it,’ Merrie advised her with all the authority of a seasoned sailor.

‘How did you feel the first time you went up?’ asked Max.

‘Me? I went straight up and out on the topsail yard – and it was blowing a gale at the time,’ replied Merrie blithely, and without thinking. Too late he became aware of the crew’s laughter.

‘Strange! I wonder who it was we had to help down not so long ago,’ said Tam.

‘A very frightened harvest mouse as I recall,’ said Thom.

Merrie coloured. He had condemned himself out of his own mouth. No longer could he play the experienced mariner.

‘There was a bit of a chop at the time,’ admitted Tam.

‘And he’d spent the night hiding in the gig,’ added Thom.

‘So you’re a stowaway!’ exclaimed Max.

Merrie nodded, his humiliation complete. He glanced up, and to his amazement saw the children gazing at him in admiration.

‘How did you do it? How long did you hide? Tell us all about it,’ they chorused.

The Cook listened at the galley door. He smiled at the harvest mouse.

‘Now you have a true story to tell,’ he said.

Chapter 7

Misty dropped anchor, as far up the river as she could manage against the current, at a sprawl of dilapidated buildings crowding the waterside, and was immediately besieged by the local traders paddling canoes loaded with fruits and vegetables. A single canoe, paddled by a young girl who stared at the children lining the rail, kept its distance.

‘A watch on duty day and night, and the crew are to go ashore on ship’s business only, in pairs, and be back before sunset,’ Capt. Albern instructed Skeet and Chad.

‘The children are begging to look around the town,’ Skeet informed him.

‘Out of the question.’

‘It looks quiet and friendly,’ said Chad, ‘but there’ll be men here who’ll put a knife in you as soon as smile at you. It’s that kind of a place.’

Ancell stared up the broad river bounded by jungle stretching as far as he could see.

‘It’s hopeless. We’ll never find the children in that,’ he muttered.

‘Not so!’ said Skeet. ‘You’re always saying something will happen.’

‘And the sooner we make it happen the better,’ said Chad.

Ancell shrugged. ‘How?’

‘By doing what you would naturally do. We go ashore and ask. You and I are going to visit a few bars.’

‘It’s worth a try,’ agreed Capt. Albern. ‘News travels fast round these parts. If anyone knows anything they’ll talk if we make it worth their while.’

Groups of men carefully eyed Ancell and Chad as they climbed the rickety landing stage. After so long at sea the ground rose and fell beneath Ancell’s feet as he staggered close behind the bosun.

‘We’ll start at one end of the town and make our way through every bar,’ stated Chad.

‘You’ll get drunk,’ warned Ancell, glancing about him nervously.

‘I certainly will not. This is business,’ replied Chad briskly, and pushed open the door of the first saloon.

Ancell sipped at his glass and spluttered as the fiery liquid burned down to his stomach.

‘My friend here is looking for some children,’ announced Chad to the barman, displaying a quantity of silver coins as he paid.

‘A boy and a girl,’ added Ancell, still coughing.

The man eyed the money, but said nothing.

Chad emptied his glass. ‘We’re on board “Misty Dawn” if you hear anything,’ he called as they left.

‘I can’t drink any more of that,’ complained Ancell. The ground was now not only moving but spinning.

‘No need to – you look dopey enough anyway to draw people’s attention,’ replied the rat.

‘Glad to be of help,’ muttered Ancell, following Chad into the next bar. He did so many more times as they advertised their search, and by sunset had covered nearly every drinking den in the town.

‘Learn anything?’ demanded Skeet, the moment they stepped back on board.

Ancell shook his head.

‘We’ve still a few places to visit,’ said Chad. ‘As for now I’m having a snooze – that was rough liquor.’

Ancell watched the rat amble for his bunk and sighed. ‘This is getting us nowhere,’ he said.

‘Chad knows what he’s doing,’ replied Skeet. ‘I bet half the town are talking about us right now.’

Skeet was correct. Even as he spoke, Pablo Martinez, proprietor of the “Golden Nugget” hotel, a ramshackle building at the far end of the waterfront, was hearing of a hedgehog searching for two children. And Capt. Albern was correct. At that moment, a half-day’s paddle upstream, the first mate of “The Executioner”, stationed in the town to watch for Misty’s arrival was making his report.

‘The ship’s captain is a grey-haired sea otter,’ he added.

Laughing Jack grabbed the man and shook him violently. ‘Say that again,’ he ordered in a deathly whisper.

‘The captain is a grey-haired sea otter,’ the terrified man stammered.

Laughing Jack threw him aside. ‘Albern! I should have known,’ he muttered. ‘Who else but you would give that hedgehog a berth, and who else would sail into that creek at night. Do you remember we once sailed together? I remember you well. And you will remember me when I sink your ship.’

‘I told you they’d come,’ said Scarletta.

Laughing Jack looked about his hideaway. Hidden up a creek deep in the jungle, trees screened “The Executioner” and the camp from the river. A fifteen-foot stockade circled the compound, a cannon commanded a solid gate, and a bamboo tower watched over twenty yards of ground cleared of vegetation against a surprise attack.

‘And this time we’re ready for them,’ he growled.

‘Time to send the men,’ said Scarletta. ‘If the hedgehog goes ashore alone we kidnap him. If not, we’ll make sure he hears where the children might be, and he’ll walk straight into our hands.’

‘What if he doesn’t fall for it?’

‘He’ll follow any lead. He’s as determined to find the children as we are to see him dead.’

‘And that’ll be the end to his dreams once and for all,’ said Laughing Jack, and laughed.

Night had long fallen when two of Laughing Jack’s crew took a room at the “Golden Nugget”. Drinking in the saloon they stared at the dark outline of Misty while Pablo carried plates of meat, rice and vegetables to their table.

‘Bring a bottle and join us,’ invited one.

Pablo poured three large glasses and pulled up a chair. ‘Be here long?’ he enquired.

‘Just working our way down river.’

Pablo observed that the men could afford to order meat. The foreigners passing through the “Golden Nugget” were invariably impoverished. Men broken by the country in which they had hoped to make their fortune. Such men did not buy him a drink.

‘Know anything about that ship?’ asked the second man, pointing to Misty’s anchor light.

Pablo wrinkled his brow. The man placed some coins on the table.

Pablo drained and refilled his glass. ‘A rat and a hedgehog have been ashore. They’ve been asking questions.’

‘What questions?’

‘That’s hard to remember.’

The man added to the coins.

‘The hedgehog is looking for two children.’

The men concentrated on their food. Pablo eyed them slyly.

‘Perhaps you could help him?’ he suggested.

‘I told you we’re just passing through,’ repeated the first man.

‘Of course,’ said Pablo, and waited.

‘But it would be interesting, just out of curiosity, to meet this hedgehog – perhaps somewhere quiet?’

‘Indeed so – just out of curiosity,’ Pablo agreed, playing idly with the money. ‘That could possibly be arranged.’

Again, the man reached into his moneybag. He smiled. ‘Now bring us another bottle,’ he said.

While the men drank, Pickle and Jobey patrolled Misty’s deck. Gradually the sound of waterfront voices faded into the still night air as bars emptied and doors slammed shut.

Pickle peered into the dark water swirling swiftly seaward. ‘I wonder if there are crocodiles?’ he mused.

‘Caymans,’ said Jobey. ‘Smaller than Hector, but they’ve a good set of teeth. It’s the piranhas you need to look out for. Always hungry, and if you’re too tough to bite from the outside they’ll eat you from the inside.’

‘Any other cheerful information?’

‘Stingrays in the mud – you won’t tread on one of those more than once in your lifetime. Electric eels that’ll put six hundred volts through you.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Jaguars lying in wait on the branches of trees – a couple of hundredweight of muscle with a bite more powerful than a lion or a tiger. The Brazilian Wandering Spider, which Doc says is the world’s deadliest.’

‘And where does that lie in wait?’

‘It doesn’t. It wanders.’ Jobey paused, ‘anywhere,’ he added darkly.

Pickle slapped him on the back. ‘What a joy you are!’ he said.

Chapter 8

The overnight rain steamed from Misty’s deck in the heat of the morning as Capt. Albern and Skeet discussed the replenishment of the drinking water. They were interrupted by the hail of a young boy expertly manoeuvring a canoe alongside.

‘Pablo has some news for the hedgehog,’ he shouted.

‘Pablo?’ asked Capt. Albern.

The boy pointed to the “Golden Nugget”. ‘Pablo,’ he repeated.

‘Thank you!’ called the captain, and dropped a coin into the boat. With a huge grin and a wave of thanks, the boy spun the canoe around and paddled for the shore.

‘That was quick! Looks like we might be getting somewhere,’ declared Skeet.

‘Almost too quick,’ muttered the captain.

A squat, heavily jowled man with a toothless smile greeted Ancell and Chad at the jetty.

‘I may be able to introduce you to someone I’m sure you’d like to meet,’ he said.

‘And who might that be?’ asked Chad.

Pablo sighed. ‘I’m trying to think,’ he said, and held out his hand.

Chad counted three coins into Pablo’s greasy palm.

Pablo smiled and turned to Ancell. ‘I hear you are looking for some children. Two strangers came into town last night who may be able to help. I could arrange for you to meet tonight – just yourself.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ replied Ancell quickly. ‘Where and when?’

Chad was staring at Pablo’s hand. The thumb and index finger were missing.

‘What a shame!’ he murmured, counting out three more coins. ‘You see, Pablo, I get lonely without my friend, and I go to bed early, so it’s both of us now or not at all.’

Pablo hesitated.

‘And I’ll have to ask for my money back,’ added Chad.

Pablo stopped smiling. ‘Follow me,’ he grunted, and led the way into the “Golden Nugget”.

Ancell blinked as he stepped into the dimness of the bar. Smoke hung in the air although the room appeared to be empty but for a man slumped across a table snoring heavily, a bottle at his feet. A chair scraped, Chad whirled round tensely, and Ancell saw two shadowy figures drinking at a corner table. The men smiled and beckoned them over. Pablo brought a bottle and hovered.

‘I expect you have work to do,’ one of the men told him.

Pablo shrugged, and shooing away a young girl hanging around the entrance, flopped into a torn deck chair and pulled a straw hat with no crown over his face.

‘Sit down and have a drink,’ invited the man.

‘Too early in the day,’ snapped Chad.

‘But it’s nice of you to offer,’ added Ancell, irritated at Chad’s ill manner.

The man ignored Chad and spoke in a low voice. ‘I hear you are looking for some children. It so happens that while we were working our way down river we came across a camp where they might be.’

Ancell could barely contain his excitement. ‘Is it far?’ he asked urgently.

‘A few hours upriver – we could show you.’

‘I’d appreciate that very much.’

‘We’ll find it ourselves,’ interrupted Chad.

The man glanced at him sharply. ‘You’ll never see it from the river. We were nosing up a creek at the time.’

‘Please take me there,’ begged Ancell.

‘If you wish we could leave now.’

Chad shook his head. ‘We’ve other things to do.’

The man sipped his drink. ‘We won’t be around for long,’ he warned.

Chad considered. ‘Tomorrow morning,’ he suggested.

The man emptied his glass. ‘Ten o’clock – we’ll pick you up from your ship,’ he instructed Ancell.

Ancell stepped into the sunlight feeling elated. To have been befriended so soon was more than he could have hoped for.

‘As they are doing us a favour you could have been a bit more polite,’ he told Chad.

Chad stopped walking and faced him. ‘You’re not going anywhere until we’ve talked to the skipper. Pablo’s the man the albatross warned us about. Didn’t you see his hand?’

‘Perhaps the albatross was mistaken.’

‘I think not, and anyway I was hoping to hear from the local Indians, people we can trust.’

‘But they’ve not spoken to us.’

‘Not yet, but I think one wants to. We’ll just wander around awhile.’

Ancell grudgingly followed the rat along the waterfront to a deserted area of derelict warehouses. As they turned a corner Chad suddenly pulled him into an empty shack.

‘Keep quiet!’ he whispered.

Within seconds they watched a slim Indian girl run a few paces past them, only to stop and look about uncertainly. Chad beckoned Ancell and stepped out behind her.

‘Looking for us?’ he enquired.

The girl moved so quickly even Chad was taken by surprise as she pinned Ancell against the shack with a knife at his throat.

‘Steady there! We mean you no harm,’ said Chad gently. Ancell thought he sounded less concerned than he would have liked as he was pushed inside, the knife still at his neck.

‘I’m holding you hostage until you release my brother,’ said the girl in quiet desperation. ‘You’re traders of children. I’ve seen them on your ship and you’re delivering them to the camp where my brother is imprisoned.’

Chad sat on a pile of lumber, regarding the girl thoughtfully. ‘I wondered why you’d been watching Misty. You followed us to the “Golden Nugget” didn’t you?’

The girl nodded. ‘You were talking to the men from the camp, so don’t deny you’re working with them.’

‘Would there have been a lady who dresses in red at this camp?’

‘She offered Kgochu work. He’s my brother. There’s just the two of us and we need to earn where we can.’

‘And are there any other children there?’

‘A boy and a girl.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Inti.’

‘Inti, I’m going to bring you proof we’re on your side,’ said Chad, striding to the doorway.

‘Bring your crew and the hedgehog dies,’ muttered Inti.

Chad shook his head. ‘You’re no killer.’

Ancell was not so sure. The girl was trembling so much she was as likely to slit his throat by mistake as intentionally.

‘What about me?’ he protested.

‘You’re safer here with Inti than you were at Pablo’s. Just relax and don’t go away,’ instructed Chad, and marched off.

Ancell stared down at the knife. ‘I wasn’t aware that I had a choice,’ he whimpered.

Chad sprinted for the landing stage, hailed Misty, and after a hasty conversation with Capt. Albern, hurried Truename into the gig.

‘What’s happened?’ Truename asked, as Tam and Thom pulled smartly for the shore.

‘We’re meeting a girl whose help we need, but she doesn’t trust us,’ said Chad. ‘Stay calm and once you’ve explained how Ancell rescued you she’ll understand we are not her enemies.’

Staying calm was the last thing on Truename’s mind when he saw a shaking wild-eyed girl holding a knife to Ancell. He hurled himself at her, fists flailing.

‘I told you to keep calm!’ complained Chad, dragging him away and handing Inti the knife she had dropped in her attempt to hold off the boy.

‘He was meant to tell you how we rescued him,’ he apologised, and instructed Truename to tell his story.

Inti listened and relaxed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said to Ancell.

Ancell smiled weakly, then his legs folded, and he slid to the ground.

‘Will you help me rescue my brother?’ Inti pleaded.

‘We need each other,’ said Chad. ‘Will you come aboard?’

‘Gladly.’

Chad glanced at Ancell. ‘This is no time to take a rest,’ he commanded as he stepped outside, leaving Ancell to glare after him.

Truename walked beside Inti. ‘I’m sorry I hit you,’ he said.

Inti smiled. ‘You were very brave. My brother is about your age,’ she added quietly.

Capt. Albern welcomed Inti on board and Truename introduced her to Sassy, Chantal and Max.

‘Is she a real Indian?’ whispered Merrie to Doc.

‘Certainly is!’ replied Doc. ‘Her name means “sun” in the Quechua language and Kgochu means “friend”. Their ancestors probably came from Peru or Ecuador, and they’re the best friends we could have. They’ll know the river and the forest as well as Jandamarra does his desert.’

‘How do you know all that?’

Denied exploration ashore yet again, Doc had been forced to content himself reading about South America from his suitcase library.

‘Years of study!’ he announced airily, ‘the benefits of which you’d appreciate if you ever bothered to open a book.’

‘It’s easier to ask you,’ said Merrie.

Misty’s crew and the children gathered on the afterdeck to listen to Inti tell of how Kgochu had been tricked and held captive in Laughing Jack’s camp.

‘We’ll mount an attack. We’ll scale the stockade with grappling irons and soon have your brother and the other children free,’ stated Skeet, to the enthusiastic agreement of all the crew.

‘They keep watch and they’re armed – you wouldn’t even get near,’ Inti replied. ‘The only way in is through the gate which is only opened for their crew.’

‘A couple of Laughing Jack’s men have invited Ancell and me to the camp tomorrow,’ said Chad. ‘It’s a trap of course. I only said we’d go because they’re picking us up from Misty and I wondered if we could kidnap them to bargain them for the children.’

Capt. Albern shook his head. ‘We’re not kidnappers, and anyway Laughing Jack cares nothing for his crew.’

‘I think I should accept the invitation. They’d open the gate then,’ said Ancell.

‘Step inside there and you’d never come out,’ growled Chad.

‘Would you risk going as far as the gate?’ pleaded Inti. ‘I’ll have paddled up the river and be hiding in the forest with my blowpipe. Once they’ve opened it, a couple of darts would paralyse your guards for long enough to give Kgochu and the other children a chance to get out and us all to get away.’

‘I’ll go,’ said Ancell.

‘You’re certain?’ asked Capt. Albern.

Ancell looked into the sea otter’s pale blue eyes. ‘Truegard would,’ he said.

The captain eyed him gravely, and nodded.

‘Not without me,’ said Chad. ‘Can’t have you dreaming along all by yourself. What if you decide to curl up at a critical moment?’

‘You’d probably trip over your tail,’ retorted Ancell.

‘Tell him he’s being stupid,’ they both told Capt. Albern.

‘Maybe both of you should go,’ decided the captain.

‘When you hear the screech of a parrot, lie flat so that you’re not in the way when I shoot,’ instructed Inti.

‘I think we should all go to back up Inti,’ said Skeet.

Inti smiled. ‘Thank you, but I’m afraid you’d be of no help.’

Doc sidled close to her. ‘Couldn’t you just take me?’ he wheedled. ‘I could collect some plant specimens on the way.’

Everyone stared at him.

‘Just thought I’d ask,’ sighed the owl.

Chapter 9

Ominous black clouds hung low over the forest and thunder rumbled in the sultry air as Ancell and Chad watched Laughing Jack’s men row towards Misty.

‘Do as Inti says. She’s in command,’ Capt. Albern instructed. ‘And good luck,’ he whispered as the boat nosed alongside.

‘This is very kind of you,’ said Ancell, as the men began to row.

‘A day to remember,’ added Chad.

The men glanced at each other. ‘That I can promise you,’ said one, and the other grinned.

Capt. Albern and Skeet watched until the boat disappeared round a bend in the river.

‘I wish I was with them,’ said Skeet.

‘I’m sure you do, but waiting is often the hardest part,’ replied the captain. ‘Our job is to be fully provisioned and ready to up anchor the moment they return.’

Skeet summoned the crew and allocated a list of tasks, then beckoned the children.

‘We have to work fast. You can help fetch and carry, but make sure you stay with a member of the crew.’

‘What about me?’ asked Doc.

Skeet pondered. ‘We’ll stack the provisions on the landing stage. You can keep an eye on them until Tam and Thom have rowed them on board.’

It was slow and tiring work ferrying the fresh water and The Cook’s shopping list to the ship, and Doc was soon sitting on an increasing pile of crates and boxes.

Four men idling on the waterfront glanced around to see no one was about and sauntered over.

‘I think you have more than you need of these,’ said one, and picked up a crate.

Doc jumped to his feet. ‘Leave it!’ he shouted furiously, desperately looking around for help, but Tam and Thom were only just beginning to row back from their last trip.

‘And I don’t think you’ll miss this one,’ said another man, and picked up another crate.

‘Nor these,’ said the other two men, doing the same.

Doc struck out in a rage. There was a flurry of punches and the owl slumped to the ground. He was only just beginning to regain consciousness when Tam and Thom returned.

‘I’m so sorry! I tried, but I’ve lost your food,’ whispered Doc, as he was rowed to the ship.

‘You did well,’ Thom replied. ‘I’m not even sure anything is missing. They probably got scared and cleared off in case they’d killed you.’

Doc was hoisted aboard in a bosun’s chair and carefully helped to his bunk. Summoned from ashore, Waff cleaned and bandaged a nasty gash above the owl’s beak.

‘How is he?’ asked Capt. Albern.

‘No bones broken,’ replied Waff. ‘But he certainly took a beating.’

Ancell watched the dark green of the jungle, sometimes dashed with bright flowering magnolias and begonias, slip by as the river wound ever deeper into the forest. Occasionally they passed an isolated hut built on stilts, where smoke lazily rose from a hole in the roof and chickens scratched in a clearing. Men paddling dugout canoes fished and children playing at the waterside waved shyly. He envied them their quiet lives, and felt his chest tighten with dread of what was to come.

At noon the sky turned a thundery yellow and sheet lightning flashed across the forest canopy. A sudden downpour of rain, so dense the riverbanks disappeared, soaked them in seconds. It shut off as quickly as it had begun, and Ancell felt himself steaming in the humid air.

‘That was refreshing! I think we’re in for a hot afternoon,’ said Chad, grinning at Ancell.

The boat turned into the still waters of a creek carpeted with water lilies and overhung with vines. Nothing stirred and only the regular splash of the oars broke the heavy silence. Ancell had the feeling they were being watched and prayed that somewhere in that seemingly impenetrable jungle Inti was close by. Then the walls of the stockade came into view.

‘Very interesting, I think we’ll turn back now,’ said Chad.

The men laughed shortly, and one pulled a pistol from under his shirt to motion them ashore.

‘How nice!’ said Chad. ‘We’re invited to lunch!’

‘Very nice,’ managed Ancell, trying to stop his voice quavering and his legs trembling. He glanced round, desperate for a sign of Inti, but saw only the forest still dripping from the rain. A man pushed him across the broken ground towards the compound gate.

‘Where’s the red carpet?’ enquired Chad.

‘You can ask Laughing Jack,’ said the second man with a grin, giving the lookout in the watchtower the thumbs up and rapping on the gate with the butt of his pistol. Ancell held his breath. The few seconds it took the gateman to slide back the bolts and push the gate open seemed an eternity, but even as he despaired of Inti acting, the sudden screech of a parrot broke the forest silence. Throwing himself to the ground, he looked up to see his guard level a pistol at him, then stare disbelievingly at a dart in his chest. He fumbled for it, his lips forming a cry, but no sound came. Then his eyes glazed, his knees buckled, and he slid to the ground. Chad grunted as the second man collapsed on top of him. For a moment the man at the gate stood transfixed, then moved to pull it shut, but too late, and with a quiet gasp crumpled and lay still. The lookout spun silently from the watchtower to lie impaled on the palisade.

‘Are you all right?’ whispered Ancell.

‘Will be once I get this oaf off me,’ muttered Chad, as Inti arrived out of nowhere to pull them to their feet.

‘Hide in the forest, I’ll find you later,’ she whispered.

‘Be all sorts of nasty creepy things in there. Anyway, you might need us,’ replied Chad.

‘We’ll see the children out,’ breathed Ancell.

Together they peered round the gate. Ancell drew a sharp breath. At the far end of the compound a young boy chopped kindling and an older boy and girl were sawing a log. A single guard sat dozing, a musket at his feet.

‘That’s my brother chopping wood,’ whispered Inti.

‘And the other two must be Ruth and Ryan,’ murmured Chad. ‘What’s more, were in luck. There’s only one guard for you to take care of.’

Inti crept forward and knelt to take aim, but even as she raised her blowpipe Kgochu glanced round. Inti quickly raised a finger to her lips, but with shout of joy Kgochu was already running to her. The guard woke, and bellowing the alarm, levelled his musket at the fleeing boy. Chad cursed and sprinted into his line of fire, ducking and weaving as he ran. The guard turned the gun on him, but Chad butted him in the stomach as he fired, and the shot embedded itself harmlessly in the stockade above Ancell’s head.

‘Run! We’ve come to get you out,’ shouted Ancell to Ruth and Ryan as he limped to help Chad struggle free of the winded guard.

Ruth and Ryan looked bewildered but ran to Inti. They were already at the gate when the first pirate burst from the log cabin. He raised his musket to fire – then pitched forward with a dart in his neck.

‘Run! Get the children to safety!’ Ancell shouted to Inti.

Inti grabbed Kgochu and beckoning to Ruth and Ryan, sprinted for the cover of the trees as more men stormed into the compound, muskets at the ready. Ancell glanced at the children stumbling across the open ground.

‘They’ll never make it,’ he half sobbed to Chad. ‘Help me close the gate. It’ll give them a few more seconds.’

Together they pushed, and the gate swung shut. Chad watched the children disappearing into the forest as the gate inched open with the weight of the first pirate behind it.

‘Time for us to go too,’ he grunted. ‘Stay close to the palisade – if we can get far enough round we’ll be out of sight when they break out.’

Inti called to Kgochu to lead Ruth and Ryan deeper into the forest and threw herself into the undergrowth as the gate burst open and the pirates poured out, led by Laughing Jack and Scarletta. They walked forward stealthily, swinging their muskets from side to side, looking for any sign of movement. The cannon fired, and Inti pressed herself to the ground as the ball tore through the trees, showering her with twigs and leaves. She looked for Chad and Ancell, and was relieved to see them creeping from the back of the stockade safely out of the pirates’ view. Then she saw a man climbing the watchtower, musket in hand, who within seconds could not fail to see them and be presented with an easy target. She raised her blowpipe to her lips. It was a long shot and she prayed her aim would be true. The dart struck, but not with the force she hoped. For a moment the man clung to the ladder, levelling his gun at the animals. Inti desperately loaded another dart, but even as she aimed, the poison took hold, and firing hopelessly into the sky, the man dropped to the ground.

Laughing Jack spun round at the sound of the shot. He saw the man fall and glimpsed Ancell and Chad scuttling into the trees.

‘After them! Search them out and kill them,’ he screamed.

Inti hurried to Kgochu.

‘This is my sister,’ Kgochu proudly told Ruth and Ryan.

‘Thank you! Thank you!’ whispered Ruth, clasping Inti’s hands.

‘It’s Ancell and Chad you have to thank,’ said Inti, ‘and now they’re in danger themselves. First I have to get you to safety and then I must find them.’

‘Who are Ancell and Chad?’ asked Ryan, as Inti led them through the forest.

‘Ancell is the hedgehog and Chad the rat. They’ve sailed from the other side of the world to rescue you.’

Ryan grimaced. ‘I think that’s unlikely. Nobody cares about us.’

‘True,’ agreed Ruth, ‘But at least we’re free for the time being.’

Inti and Kgochu moved fast and Ruth and Ryan struggled to keep up, but at last they glimpsed the river reflecting the afternoon sunshine. Inti’s canoe bobbed at the bank, hidden by overhanging branches.

‘I’m going to look for Ancell and Chad,’ Inti told Kgochu. ‘You are to stay here with Ruth and Ryan.’

‘Can’t I come with you?’ begged Kgochu.

Inti took him by the shoulders. ‘If I can’t find them before dark I’ll not be able to see their tracks before morning. Stay hidden and if I’m not back before noon take Ruth and Ryan to the ship anchored downstream.’

Kgochu nodded and buried himself in his sister’s arms.

‘Remember to do exactly as I say,’ instructed Inti, and slipped back into the trees.

‘Please come back soon,’ called Kgochu.

‘Your sister’s quite someone,’ said Ryan admiringly.

Kgochu nodded. ‘She’s a bit bossy sometimes, but I knew she’d rescue me. Have you brothers or sisters?’

‘Laughing Jack and Scarletta were able to kidnap us because we have no one.’

‘That’s bad. Everyone needs somebody,’ said Kgochu.

Chapter 10

Ancell and Chad slipped and slithered through the trees. For a hundred yards they kept their distance from the sound of their pursuers, but the further they set foot the denser the jungle became. Large rotting tree trunks and barricades of bamboo barred their way. Creepers pulled at their legs and vines entangled their bodies. Chad brushed against a tree covered with vicious spikes, stifling a yelp of pain and bleeding as they staggered on. Streaming with perspiration and gasping in the lifeless air, they splashed through a pool of stagnant water and clawed up a muddy bank. Ancell collapsed to the ground, clasping his aching leg.

‘You go on. I’ll only hold you up,’ he panted.

Chad pulled him to his feet.

Ancell shook his head. ‘Leave me – go while you’re in with a chance. Anyway, if I hide they might miss me.’

Chad listened to Laughing Jack’s crew drawing closer. They were well organised, each man frequently calling his position to stay a short distance abreast of the next. Laughing Jack marked one end of the line and Scarletta the other.

‘They’re too close to each other to hide,’ he said. ‘Our best bet is to turn at a right angle and get clear of their line before they reach us. We’ll go to the right, fewer of them in that direction.’

Ancell limped after the rat. They made slow progress, only a few yards at a time before meeting another wall of vegetation, and the sound of the pirates’ cutlasses slashing through the undergrowth grew closer. Ancell suddenly glimpsed a face thrusting through the foliage. He gripped Chad’s shoulder and pointed. Silently they flattened themselves against a large tree, edging round the trunk and breathing a sigh of relief as the man crashed by. Then they heard a twig snap and stared down the barrel of Scarletta’s musket.

‘I’ve been looking forward to this moment,’ she purred.

‘If it isn’t the delightful Scarletta! Lost any more children recently?’ Chad replied, stepping forward to measure a leap for her throat.

Scarletta flushed, her scar throbbing crimson, but carefully stepped back to keep her distance. Leaning against a tree she motioned Ancell forward.

‘Stand close,’ she ordered, ‘I’m sure you’d like to die together.’

Ancell limped into the small clearing where strangely no vegetation grew. A smell of rotting fish hung in the fetid air, and he noticed an army of ants scurrying over the bare earth. It would not be long, he thought, before his carcass was picked clean. It was a dank and noxious place to die.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered to Chad, but the rat made no reply. Struck dumb with terror, his eyes were fixed on the branch above Scarletta. Ancell followed his gaze. The branch was moving. With the faintest rippling movement, it uncoiled to swing slowly above Scarletta’s head. Scarletta took aim.

‘Bye-bye,’ she murmured.

‘Wait! There’s something I’d like to say,’ blurted Ancell.

‘No more talking and no more dreaming for you,’ replied Scarletta, and tightened her finger on the trigger.

Then the anaconda struck. Scarletta reeled from the blow of the snake’s head. Half stunned she began to crawl, but the snake moved fast. She opened her mouth to scream as it coiled round her, but uttered only a gurgle. For a few moments she struggled, but with every effort the snake imperceptibly tightened around her, and every breath she took became more shallow. Then her eyes stared, her head lolled, and she struggled no more. Keeping an unblinking eye on the petrified hedgehog and rat, the anaconda uncoiled the twenty-one feet of its heavy olive-green body, as thick as a small tree. Still watching them, it then opened its mouth very wide, the black rings about its length flexed gently, and head first, Scarletta slowly began to disappear.

Ancell stared back at the snake, paralysed with fear. Chad stood transfixed beside him, trembling violently. Suddenly the powerful stench made Ancell retch. His shuddering body startled Chad into action.

‘Best run while it’s still eating,’ he whispered.

‘It’s still looking at me,’ whimpered Ancell.

‘In that case, and as you’re less edible than me, you keep an eye on it and I’ll edge back a little.’

‘On the contrary, I’m far tastier than you.’

‘Stop quibbling! Anyway, you can do your rolling up act. That’ll put it off.’

‘You can run faster than me. Best if I back off first.’

Chad stared at the snake. It would not be long before Scarletta’s boots followed the rest of her.

‘We’ll count to three, then make a dash for it together.’

‘One,’ whispered Ancell slowly.

‘Two, three!’ said Chad quickly, and fled.

‘You cheated!’ yelled Ancell furiously, chasing after him. The anaconda watched them blunder into the undergrowth without interest and settled down to digesting Scarletta.

Fear propelled them for fifty yards before they burst through a curtain of vines to tumble into a ditch of sluggish water.

‘Maybe it’s flowing to the river,’ panted Chad, and started off again along the gully, only to plunge into a morass of mud. They hauled themselves onto the bank and stood gasping for breath.

‘Do you think it will follow us?’ whispered Chad.

Ancell clung to the trunk of a tree for support. ‘I think they sleep after they’ve eaten.’

‘Makes sense,’ agreed Chad, ‘though it will probably get nightmares with Scarletta inside it.’

‘Which direction do we go now?’

‘I’ve not the slightest idea.’

‘I thought you knew where you were going.’

‘I would if we were on Misty and I could see the sky.’

‘If you put that tail of yours to use and climbed a tree you might be able to see the river.’

Chad stared up at the forest canopy high above and shook his head. ‘Frogs!’ he announced.

‘What harm in a frog? And anyway, frogs don’t climb trees.’

‘Poison Arrow frogs do. As for harm, they’re only probably the most poisonous animals on earth. Inti told Doc it’s their poison she dilutes for her blowpipe darts.’

‘I don’t see any frogs.’

‘They’re tiny, and they’re probably watching us now, waiting for you to persuade me to climb. I’d never get to the top anyway – I doubt even Waff could manage that height.’

‘So we’re lost!’

‘Correct.’

‘At least we’ve shaken off Laughing Jack and his crew.’

‘For the time being. How long will the wounded ones be paralysed?’

‘Inti said several hours.’

‘Several years would be better,’ grumbled Chad.

‘Look on the bright side. We’re still alive, and we won’t see Scarletta again.’

‘True – it’s just that this jungle gives me the creeps, and it’s getting dark. You’re always saying something will happen. How about happening us safely onboard Misty before nightfall?’

‘Inti won’t desert us. Meanwhile we need to sleep.’

Chad pointed to a hollow in a tree trunk large enough for them to snuggle into. Ancell listened to the all-encompassing silence of the forest, broken only by the chirps, twitters and coos of birds returning to their nests at the end of the day. A toucan flapped lazily from the canopy, and for a moment the topmost branches above them swayed as a family of white faced capuchin monkeys swung home through the twilight. A small lizard scuttled past their feet, stopped abruptly to stare at them with bulging eyes and dashed up the nearest tree. As night fell the cicadas commenced their chirruping chorus.

Ancell felt strangely at peace. He imagined the joyful welcome of Ruth and Ryan on board Misty.

‘At least the children are free,’ he said.

Chad nodded. ‘Let’s hope so. And I’ve done what Truegard would have expected of me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I owe him. A long time ago I was a useless mess. He gave me a chance and persuaded the skipper to take me on. I’ve sailed with Misty ever since.’

‘Was Truegard the reason you risked your life to rescue me when I was too exhausted to go on in the desert?’

‘Maybe. I know Truegard would have. I don’t think about these things too much.’

‘With luck you’ll be back onboard Misty tomorrow, and happily brawling in a bar in a couple of months.’

‘No more of that for me.’

‘Getting old?’

‘Just something Chantal said.’

‘Miss Strait will be pleased. You’ll be her perfect lodger.’

Chad yawned and stretched. ‘I could do with some of her freshly baked bread just now. Talking of which, what is likely to eat us tonight?’

‘Nothing that I know of – unless that anaconda’s daddy is around.’

‘Don’t say that! Are we going to take turns keeping watch?’

But the only reply Chad got was a gentle snore. He dug the hedgehog sharply in the ribs. Ancell jumped awake in a panic only to see the rat glaring at him.

‘What did you do that for!’ he complained.

‘You were snoring. Every creature in the forest will come to see what all the noise is about.’

‘Stop nagging and relax,’ muttered Ancell, and fell asleep again. Chad stared about moodily – then tiredness closed his eyes too.

A rustling in the clearing woke them. Peering into the dark, Ancell spied a three-foot long animal with a bushy tail and white stripes about its shoulders. Stifling a squeak of alarm, he immediately curled tightly.

The animal stared at them curiously, decided they were of no danger, and shuffled past with its snout close to the ground.

Ancell poked out his head. ‘Has it gone?’ he whispered.

‘If you’d stop rolling up you’d see for yourself,’ retorted Chad.

‘I thought it was a badger.’

‘So?’

‘Badgers eat hedgehogs.’

Chad giggled. ‘It was an anteater. Not surprisingly, they eat ants!’

‘Anything that looks like a badger is no laughing matter,’ snapped Ancell.

‘But on second thoughts I recall that South American anteaters do enjoy an occasional hedgehog,’ mocked Chad gleefully. ‘A nice fat hedgehog is their favourite treat, and I think it’s coming back. It certainly looked hungry and…’

‘You remember that anaconda,’ Ancell interrupted him sharply. ‘Imagine, if it was eating you, the tip of your tail would be disappearing just about now.’

Chad shuddered. ‘Will you please shut up about that snake.’

‘Only if you stop sniggering about animals pretending to be badgers.’

‘Very well, but no more rolling up. It’s extremely irritating.’

‘It’s instinctive.’

‘It’s still irritating.’

‘I’m going back to sleep.’

‘Don’t snore!’

Ancell scuffled and wriggled into the leaves until he felt comfortable. Chad curled his tail about him and silence descended on the forest once more.

Chapter 11

The clearing was already dappled with sunlight when Ancell awoke to a discreet cough and looked up to see Inti smiling down on him. Chad opened his eyes, and they both scrambled to their feet to embrace the girl.

‘Thank goodness you’ve come! How did you find us?’ asked Chad.

‘It’s taken longer than I hoped,’ said Inti. ‘I picked up your tracks close to the camp, but first the pirates trampled all over them and then you unaccountably ran around in circles.’

Chad looked indignant. ‘With good reason! We were nearly eaten by a snake!’

‘Are Ruth and Ryan safe?’ demanded Ancell.

‘They’re waiting for us with my brother.’

‘Can we chat later and get going before that snake regains its appetite?’ pleaded Chad.

Inti smiled. ‘Are you sure it wasn’t just a vine?’

‘Am I certain!’ exploded Chad. ‘It ate Scarletta in front of our eyes!’

‘Was this at a clearing of bare earth?’

‘And masses of ants,’ said Ancell with a shudder. ‘How do you know?’

‘I found a gun. I buried it. And there is an anaconda thereabouts. The ants live in a particular tree there and poison the ground so that nothing else can grow and their tree has plenty of light. It’s a place we avoid. Incidentally that anaconda won’t eat again for many weeks.’

Chad brightened. ‘Just to clear up a little matter,’ he asked, ‘who would a snake eat first? A hedgehog or a rat?’

Inti regarded him thoughtfully. ‘A rat without question.’

Chad glared at Ancell. ‘I told you!’ he said.

Compared to their previous day’s blunderings, the going was easier with Inti swinging a machete to clear a path. She stopped by a tree that to Ancell looked like any other.

‘I’ve been looking for one of these,’ she said, and struck the trunk several times with the machete. Low booms reverberated through the forest.

‘I’m telling Kgochu we’re on our way,’ she explained.

Watching the sun climb higher, Kgochu heard the distant sound floating through the trees and punched the air with relief.

‘It’s Inti! She’s found them! You’ll be safe on board your ship this afternoon,’ he announced, as Ruth and Ryan hugged him with delight.

Misty’s crew fretted all the more as the morning wore on. Preparing the ship for sea had occupied them the previous day, but they had spent much of the night prowling the deck, straining to catch the first sound of Inti’s canoe. All the provisions had been loaded despite the delay of attending to Doc. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Doc had missed breakfast and was still sleeping when Skeet and Waff called to see how he was feeling. Waff frowned and gently shook the owl awake.

Doc struggled to sit up. ‘I’m so sorry! Trust me to make a mess of things,’ he whispered.

‘On the contrary,’ replied Skeet, ‘you saved us a lot of meals.’

Waff inspected Doc’s rapidly swelling eye and felt his fevered brow. ‘And taken some nasty punches doing so,’ he added.

‘The fact is I cause you nothing but trouble,’ murmured Doc, and fell asleep again.

‘I’ve never heard Doc apologise for anything, let alone for something that actually wasn’t his fault,’ said Skeet as they closed the cabin door.

Waff nodded. ‘I don’t like it,’ he said. ‘Something’s wrong.’

The Cook served lunch at noon, but despite the luxury of fresh food, little was eaten. Skeet pushed his plate aside impatiently and strode to Capt. Albern.

‘Can I ask one of the locals to take me up river? At least I might learn something,’ he begged.

The sea otter continued to pace the deck. ‘Patience! Mr. Skeet,’ he eventually replied, rubbing his eyes after a sleepless night. ‘We must hold our nerve and give them time.’

Skeet stared up the river, then yet again set to checking Misty was ready to sail, though it was the third time he had done so that morning. Along the waterfront, lounging groups of men eyed the ship curiously, wondering why, though freshly provisioned and the crew waiting to sail, she remained at anchor. Outside the “Golden Nugget”, Pablo Martinez slumped in his deck chair squinting at Misty’s crowsnest, where a small boy and a harvest mouse stared up river. He thought he knew who they were looking for. He shrugged, and fingering the coins in his pocket, pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes.

Kgochu ran into his sister’s arms the moment she pushed through the trees, closely followed by Chad. Ruth and Ryan stepped forward to greet the first of their rescuers, but Chad, after dubiously eying the branches overhanging the canoe, shot straight past them and into the boat. Ancell limped towards them.

‘I don’t know who you are or why you’ve come, but thank you,’ said Ruth.

‘He’s a dreaming hedgehog who gets lost in jungles,’ volunteered Chad from the bottom of the canoe.

‘You were leading!’ retorted Ancell, climbing in beside him.

‘Can we get out of these trees and into open water?’ Chad implored Inti.

Ruth and Ryan climbed into the bow with Kgochu, and Inti pushed off, only needing her paddle to steer as the fast running water swept them down river.

Chad relaxed. ‘Am I glad to be back on a boat again! How long to Misty?’

‘Only an hour with the stream’ said Inti. ‘When will you be leaving?’

‘Will you and Kgochu be safe now?’

‘I’ll make sure of that.’

‘Then we’ll sail right away,’ said Chad with a sigh of relief, and closed his eyes.

Ancell glanced to the bow where Ruth and Ryan were chatting to Kgochu. He could hardly believe that the rescue had been a success. Just an hour and they would all be safely onboard Misty. He turned to congratulate Chad, but cradled in the gently rocking canoe, the rat was already snoring. Resisting the temptation to dig him in the ribs, he eased his aching leg and dozed.

Inti smiled as she listened to Kgochu telling Ruth and Ryan about what he was looking forward to now he was free, then tensed as they swept round a sharp bend, narrowing her eyes at a rowing boat pushing off from the far shore.

‘Get down! Lay in the bottom of the boat!’ she ordered them urgently. Chad and Ancell started awake.

‘What’s happening?’ grunted Chad.

‘Laughing Jack’s men,’ said Inti grimly, and Ancell’s heart sank.

Chad cursed. ‘Of course! He’d know our only way of escape was down the river.’

‘If we can get to the bank we could hide in the forest,’ suggested Ancell.

Chad peered over the side. There were two men rowing hard and they were closing fast.

‘We’d never make it,’ he said, ‘and anyway I’d rather fight than step in there again.’

Ancell felt Ruth trembling and saw the fear in Ryan and Kgochu’s eyes.

‘It’s me Laughing Jack most wants,’ he called to Inti. ‘If I give myself up maybe they won’t bother with the rest of you.’

‘Don’t talk rubbish. We fight together,’ muttered Chad.

Inti ignored them. ‘We still have one advantage. I know the river and they don’t. All of you lay quiet. Stay down, Kgochu, but have your paddle ready.’

Kgochu nodded and Inti paddled slowly towards the shore where the river swirled and eddied. The pirates drew within hailing distance.

‘Stop paddling! We want to look in your boat,’ one shouted.

Inti glanced toward the shallows and allowed the canoe to drift.

‘There’s only me and a few fish,’ she replied with a shrug.

The men rowed close alongside. Inti waited while they shipped their oars and one reached to grab the canoe.

‘Go!’ she shouted to Kgochu and paddled hard.

Kgochu jumped up and paddled with all his might as the cursing pirates, fumbling for their oars, gave chase.

Chad peeped up. ‘You’ve got twenty yards start on them, but they’re catching up,’ he warned.

Inti measured the distance to the turbulent water ahead and glanced behind her.

‘Stop paddling and lay down!’ she shouted to Kgochu, and rested her paddle.

Chad stared at her in dismay as, rowing hard, the pirates closed fast. The canoe picked up speed as it neared the rapids. Inti suddenly plunged her paddle deep in the water. The canoe slowed, slewing dangerously and nearly turning over. Chad glimpsed the rowing boat race past them, one man ceasing to row and grabbing a musket.

‘Get down!’ he yelled at Inti.

Inti sat firm, steering the canoe through the seething waters. Then the rowing boat hit the mud bank. It lurched violently as the marksman fired and the oarsman screamed as the shot ripped into his shoulder. Ancell glanced up to see the boat tossed along the riverbed and eventually capsize. Two heads floundered in the water.

‘You can get up now,’ said Inti, calmly paddling to safety.

Chad stared at her admiringly. ‘You can sure handle a boat,’ he said.

‘As no doubt you can your ship,’ Inti replied.

Chad laughed. ‘We don’t steer into rapids or at mud banks. That’s scary!’

‘I expect the ocean can be frightening.’

‘It can be dangerous, but given proper respect it will serve you well.’

‘Same as our forest then. You would not fear it if you understood it. It provides all we need – food, medicines, protection, and it is very beautiful.’

‘Not to me!’

Inti smiled. ‘If you spent a week sleeping out in it with Kgochu and me we could teach you all about it,’ she teased.

Chad shuddered. ‘Just get me to Misty and my comfortable bunk before a hungry anaconda swims alongside,’ he pleaded.

Ancell listened to their chatter, his heart still pounding, astounded at their composure. He pointed to the two heads increasingly disappearing below the muddy water.

‘What about them?’ he quavered.

‘Looks like they’re drowning,’ said Chad without a trace of compassion.

‘And when they do, the piranhas love meat,’ added Kgochu cheerfully. ‘They hunt in packs, so if you see the water boiling with blood you’ll know they’ve found them. Nothing cuts like a piranha’s teeth. We use them to sharpen our darts.’ Ancell hastily looked away.

The river swept round a long bend and Inti pointed. ‘There’s your ship,’ she said.

Ruth and Ryan quickly scrambled to the bow as Misty came into view.

‘She’s lovely,’ murmured Ruth.

‘None better!’ said Chad proudly.

Merrie and Truename’s vigil in the crowsnest was rewarded when they spied Inti’s canoe and yelled the good news. Within seconds both the children and the crew were climbing the rigging to see for themselves. Skeet resisted the urge to follow and remained at Capt. Albern’s side.

‘Are you certain it is Inti?’ called the captain, ‘and how many on board?’

‘Certain!’ shouted Merrie. ‘There’s a boy and a girl in the bow and another small boy standing up who’s…’

‘Can you see Chad and Ancell?’ interrupted Skeet

‘They’re sitting with Inti.’

Skeet whooped and jigged about the deck while Capt. Albern bowed his head in a silent prayer of thanks. ‘Prepare to sail Mr Skeet. We need to get out of here fast,’ he instructed.

Ruth and Ryan climbed aboard and Truename joyfully introduced them to Max, Sassy and Chantal, then they all leaned over the rail shouting their thanks to Inti and Kgochu.

Ancell interrupted Capt. Albern’s steady stream of orders. ‘Inti’s done so much for us. Can we give her something, maybe some money?’ he asked.

The sea otter frowned. ‘Money would be discourteous, even insulting, but she and Kgochu might like some books. Ask Doc.’

After searching the deck, Ancell eventually found the owl dozing on his bunk.

‘What are you doing down here?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t you realise we’ve rescued the children and we’re about to sail?’

Doc rose stiffly and Ancell noticed the bandage and his badly bruised face.

‘Whatever happened to you?’ he asked.

Doc shrugged. ‘It was my own fault.’

‘Have you some books we could give to Inti and Kgochu?’

‘I suppose they could have this,’ muttered Doc glumly, handing over a volume. ‘It’s of no interest to me now that I’ve been denied an opportunity to see for myself. Do you realise I’m the only explorer to have stood within yards of that magnificent rain forest and not been allowed inside? I suppose you didn’t think to bring me back some interesting specimens?’

Ancell glanced at the cover. ‘As they live there, I don’t think “The Flora and Fauna of the Amazon Basin” will be of much interest to them.’

‘If the skipper stopped off in Africa I could look for some specimens there,’ mused Doc.

Ancell impatiently picked a large illustrated encyclopaedia from Doc’s trunk. ‘Can I take this?’

Doc sighed. ‘If you must, but tell them to look after it,’ he grumbled.

Ancell carefully lowered the book in a bucket. Kgochu immediately opened it and looked up with delight.

‘A token of our thanks,’ Ancell called.

Inti smiled. ‘And we thank you. At last Kgochu and I are together again.’

It was a delicate manoeuvre easing Misty round to face downstream without the river sweeping her backwards and out of control, but at last the sails were unfurled, and at the helm Tam smiled as she gained steerage. Inti and Kgochu called their best wishes for a safe passage home and the crew joined the children at the rail to wave goodbye. Then Misty picked up speed, and hard as Kgochu and Inti paddled, left them far behind.

Washed along by the current Misty soon covered the distance it had taken her days to battle upstream. She heeled to a sudden gust of wind and Ancell, still standing at the stern waving goodbye, glanced aloft to see brooding clouds massing and behind them the sky turn black. Chad leaned on the rail beside him as lightning flashed above the forest and thunder rumbled.

‘Laughing Jack’s getting wet,’ mused Ancell.

‘We won’t!’ answered Chad. ‘Forget Laughing Jack and look ahead.’

Ancell looked over Misty’s bow. The Amazon estuary was opening into the sea. Sunlight bathed the horizon and in the distance the blue Atlantic sparkled.

Laughing Jack listened to the rain drumming on the camp roof and watched the trees bend under the onslaught of the deluge. The eerie boom of Inti’s signal echoing through the jungle had sounded ominous and he stared into the deepening gloom with an increasing sense of unease. The children had escaped, and he had failed to kill Ancell and Chad. There was no report from the men sent downriver, two of his crew were dead, four barely able to move, and Scarletta had mysteriously disappeared.

‘Get the crew on board. We’re sailing,’ he snarled at his first mate.

The man hesitated. ‘What about the wounded ones?’ he dared to ask.

‘Get them on board or leave them,’ snapped Laughing Jack, ‘we won’t be coming back.’

The storm intensified as “The Executioner” nosed downstream. A bolt of lightning ripped into the trees close by and the crew threw themselves to the deck, covering their ears at the simultaneous crack of thunder. Laughing Jack stood at the helm staring seaward through the curtains of rain. Water streaming from his contorted face, he raised his fist to the heavens.

‘Rage all you will,’ he screamed. ‘Blow me to Albern’s ship, and if that dreaming hedgehog is on board so much the better, for I’ll scour the oceans until I hunt them down. And when I do, Albern will feel the pain of my lash. And when I’ve flogged the life out of him I’ll send his ship and all who sail in her to the bottom. No one defies Laughing Jack!’

He regained his breath, then ordered the crew to set more sail, and laughed.

Chapter 12

Ruth and Ryan’s first day at sea was one of such wonder and excitement they did not even notice the coast of Brazil dip below the horizon. The Cook slid a second fried egg onto their breakfast plates in celebration of their escape. Skeet whisked them to Capt. Albern’s cabin, where Misty’s master formally welcomed them on board. Then Truename, Sassy, Chantal and Max led them round the ship to meet every one of the crew. Pickle offered to recite his epic poem, but Jobey said it was of no interest to anyone not named Pickle. Chips cautioned them to keep upwind of Waff’s pipe, and Waff warned them not to believe a word of the tales Chips told. Tam and Thom stood awkwardly while Sassy introduced them as the two best helmsmen in the world.

‘She’s a good ship,’ said Tam.

‘Sails herself,’ said Thom.

‘And I’m your tutor,’ announced Doc, barging in on the conversation. ‘Classes from tomorrow.’

Ryan frowned. ‘Classes?’

‘You never had the opportunity to go to school, so the skipper asked me to teach you the little I can,’ explained Doc. ‘And now if you’ll excuse me I must prepare your next lessons.’

Merrie watched the chattering group move from one member of the crew to the next. It seemed he counted as neither crew nor classmate. ‘I don’t care,’ he muttered, and climbed to the crowsnest where he stared fixedly at the horizon through watering eyes. However he quickly returned to the deck when Truename joined him to explain that they wished to present him last because he was the only stowaway on board and was therefore of special importance.

Ancell joined the crew gathering round Skeet as he unrolled a chart on the quarterdeck one evening to show the children the course they would be sailing.

‘This is where we are now, and this is where we’ll make landfall,’ he said, pointing to Misty’s position and to the English Channel.

Ryan looked up at the sails barely filling in the faintest of breezes.

‘How long will it take?’ he asked. ‘There’s not much wind.’

‘Fifty days, given a decent passage. You’ll feel some wind once we pick up the northeast trade winds, then we’ll work our way through the calms of the horse latitudes and past the Azores to meet the westerlies which will see us home.’

‘Azores?’

‘Islands off the coast of Portugal.’

‘Which is where we’ll probably suffer the same fate as the “Mary Celeste”, added Jobey darkly.

‘A ghost ship that sails thereabouts,’ Chips informed the children.

Sassy laughed. ‘Is this another of your “Flying Dutchman” stories? We never saw him.’

‘Lucky for you! He probably sailed by in the night,’ retorted Chips.

‘So, what’s this story?’ demanded Max.

‘No point in telling you if you’re not going to believe me,’ grumbled Chips.

‘But he’s going to anyway,’ said Waff with a sigh.

‘It is well documented,’ emphasised Chips, ‘that in 1872, the brigantine “Mary Celeste” was found abandoned, all sail set. Her rowing boat was missing, and her crew never found.’

‘It’s true. What happened remains a mystery to this day,’ confirmed Skeet.

‘And I knew a sailor who had seen her apparition,’ continued Chips, ‘a hollow-eyed wretch who never got a wink of sleep to the day he died.’

‘Which is open to debate,’ suggested Skeet.

Chips ignored the interruption and eyed the children sombrely. ‘So, should she appear one moonlit night, avert your eyes unless the same fate befalls the lot of you.’

‘I know what happened,’ said Waff. ‘The ship’s carpenter would never stop talking and the crew were so maddened by his incessant chatter they threw themselves overboard.’

Chad grinned. ‘We can certainly sympathise with them, but you haven’t accounted for the missing boat.’

‘They’d probably lowered it to set the carpenter adrift, but none of them had the courage to set foot within hearing distance of his twaddle,’ explained Waff.

Merrie weighed up the story. ‘But that would leave the carpenter on board,’ he puzzled.

‘With no one to talk to, he swam after them, still telling stories,’ replied Waff blithely.

Sassy winked at Chantal. ‘I suppose they should have cast the carpenter adrift before he drove them mad,’ she said with a giggle.

‘Now there’s an idea!’ puffed Waff, his pipe glowing at the prospect.

Ancell felt a flutter of excitement at the thought of home, but then the image of Laughing Jack wormed into his mind. He shuddered, even though Chad had assured him more than once that the man who would kill them all had probably followed Scarletta down the anaconda’s throat, or even better in the rat’s opinion, been paralysed by a poison dart, eaten by ants while in a coma, and regained consciousness only to stare at his own skeleton. Ancell had smiled, but the fear remained.

Doc, too, had his worries. Ending the children’s class early one afternoon, he slumped against the galley door.

‘Any chance of a good strong coffee?’ he asked.

The Cook was about to reply that he did not supply an on-demand beverage service, but seeing the owl so downcast merely nodded.

‘I just don’t know what to do,’ Doc sighed.

‘Unusual for you,’ observed The Cook, filling a mug.

‘Ruth and Ryan aren’t settling. They’re older and have spent too many years fending for themselves. I don’t think they even trust us. All they talk of is what they’ll do when Misty docks. I wish Truegard were here to talk to them, just as he did to me my first weeks on board when the rest of you were laughing at me.’

‘We still laugh at you.’

‘Maybe, but in a tolerant sort of way. It’s become quite comforting.’

‘That’s the way on Misty. We accept each other as we are.’

‘Ruth and Ryan don’t accept me.’

‘They’re new on board. Why not give them a break from your classes and let them learn the story of Misty’s voyage from the crew. When they understand how long and hard we’ve searched for them they’ll feel more a part of the ship.’

‘I’ll give it a try,’ said Doc, though wondering what would be said of himself – at best, he thought, a bumbling fool, who given the simple task of guarding their supplies, had let everybody down.

Ruth and Ryan jumped at the opportunity to skip a day’s lessons to learn more of the crew’s adventures, hoping to hear more of the escape from Australia and the gory details of the shark attack. But the sailors, though recounting their escape from Careless Island and the fury of the storm, had mostly talked about the selfless Truegard and their memories of the gentle red squirrel.

‘Learn anything interesting?’ asked Doc nervously, as they joined the class the following day.

‘They loved Truegard,’ said Ryan.

Ruth smiled. ‘Skeet told us he believes he is still on board looking after him.’

‘I think we all do,’ said Doc.

‘What I don’t understand is why anyone should care about us. We don’t mean anything to anybody,’ said Ryan.

‘Love,’ said Truename.

‘I’ve never been loved,’ said Ryan bitterly.

‘But maybe you were. You just didn’t know it,’ replied Truename.

‘It’s a wonderful story,’ murmured Ruth.

Ryan smiled. ‘And what’s more, we are part of it,’ he said.

‘Welcome to Misty’s family,’ said Doc.

Chapter 13

‘It was not your fault! Just forget about it!’ yelled Chad at Doc, thumping the stern rail in frustration.

‘I just thought an apology was in order,’ muttered Doc, and retreated to his cabin.

‘He’s driving me mad!’ Chad complained to Skeet. ‘Ever since we sailed he’s been apologising for losing our provisions, and it’s getting worse – that’s the second time today. I’ve told him time and again we didn’t lose anything and but for him we’d have lost the lot.’

Skeet sighed. ‘You’re not the only one. He’s been apologising to every single one of the crew and they’re getting tired of it. Waff says he’s still feverish and thinks the beating he took may have affected him more than he realises. He’s told him to ease off on the classes, but he won’t take any notice.’

Misty had long picked up the trade winds, heeling one night to roll the children to the side of their bunks. In the morning they had stepped onto a sloping deck to gaze at the rhythm of her swaying masts straining under full sail as she creamed through white crested seas. Rainbows of spray rose from her bow, and astern she left a long tumbling wake. Sailing a steady course in such perfect conditions was all the crew could have wished for, yet a growing sense of unease about the change in Doc hung over the ship.

The children, too, were becoming increasingly worried. Week after week Doc’s lessons had become more and more confused. When narrating Captain Cook’s great voyages of discovery, he had attributed the charting of New Zealand to Columbus, and when Sassy corrected him, had flushed angrily and snapped that if he had said Columbus he was obviously referring to Captain Cook. Nor could they read his comments on their essays. The bold round writing had deteriorated to a minute scrawl, which made little sense even if they could decipher it, and test papers often repeated a question or included a totally unrelated subject.

‘Well done,’ he told Ryan one sunny morning, handing him Ruth’s essay as he passed round the previous evening’s homework. Nobody got their own efforts. Silently they exchanged papers.

‘Today we’ll investigate the causes of the French Revolution,’ he announced.

‘We did that yesterday,’ said Max.

Doc blinked, and looking a little lost shuffled through a sheaf of jumbled notes.

‘Of course we did! I don’t seem to have what I want here. Must be in my cabin,’ he mumbled, and levering himself to his feet wandered towards the bow.

‘Where are you going? Your cabin’s the other way,’ called Ryan.

Doc stared at him vacantly, then muttering that he was stretching his legs, retraced his steps and disappeared down the companionway.

‘That’s it!’ announced Sassy firmly. ‘I’ve said for ages that he’s not well. Whether anyone agrees or not, I’m telling the skipper.’

‘Maybe he’s tired and needs a break,’ suggested Max.

‘We could read up more ourselves, so he’d have fewer lessons to prepare,’ proposed Ryan.

‘He spends so long working in his cabin,’ agreed Chantal, ‘and he’s always late for dinner.’

‘If we kid him it’s the end of term we can have a holiday,’ said Merrie, and then sat shame faced when everyone stared at him with contempt.

‘Only joking,’ he muttered.

‘Bad joke,’ Ryan told him.

‘I agree with Sassy,’ said Truename. ‘Sometimes he stops talking mid-sentence and just looks puzzled.’

‘He’s been gone ages. I’m going to see if he’s all right,’ announced Ruth.

She knocked at the owl’s cabin and receiving no reply, pushed open the door to see Doc sitting forlornly on his bunk staring into space. He seemed to have shrunk, and suddenly looked very frail. Torn scraps of notes scattered the floor.

‘Is it dinner time already?’ he asked.

Ruth’s heart sank. ‘We’ve just had breakfast, Doc. Are you feeling all right?’

‘Perhaps I missed it,’ said Doc. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I just came to see how you are. Stay here, I’ll be back in a moment,’ said Ruth, and ran to Capt. Albern on the quarterdeck.

‘Doc’s not well! He’s not thinking straight!’ she blurted.

The sea otter frowned and followed her to the owl’s cabin. Doc perceptibly brightened as he entered. ‘Captain Albern! Pleased to see you sir!’ he said, then suddenly looked fearful. ‘Are you cross with me for losing the provisions?’ he whimpered.

Capt. Albern looked startled but quickly composed himself. ‘But you didn’t. We’re all very proud of you,’ he replied gently.

‘That’s nice! Now if you will excuse me I’ve a lot of work to do,’ said Doc, and began scrabbling about on the floor picking up pieces of paper at random.

‘I think you’ve done enough work for today. It’s time you got some rest,’ suggested the captain, leading the owl back to his bunk. ‘By the way,’ he added, ‘do you remember the name of our ship?’

Doc eyed him craftily. ‘You say first,’ he said, ‘and I’ll tell you if you’re right.’

‘You know me, don’t you?’ begged Ruth.

‘Of course I do! You told me it was time for dinner,’ Doc replied.

Together, Ruth and the captain tucked the owl into his bunk. Doc did not complain. ‘Good night to you,’ he said, as they closed the door.

‘What’s wrong with him? He’ll be all right, won’t he?’ pleaded Ruth.

‘How long has he been like this?’ asked the sea otter. ‘I should have noticed.’

‘Sassy says he’s not been his old self since we left South America, and the last few weeks he’s got worse. He keeps losing his train of thought, and it’s horrible when he can’t remember a word he wants – he looks so frightened. What can we do?’

‘I’d like you children to watch over him day and night. Talk to him and keep him interested in everything going on about him.’

‘He will get better won’t he?’

Capt. Albern faced the girl. ‘We must pray and believe he will,’ he answered. But Ruth glimpsed a hint of fear in his eyes.

Willing Doc to recover sapped the crew’s energy, and every simple task became an effort. They picked at their food and slept restlessly. Pickle no longer strummed his guitar, but wrote a poem extolling the patient’s scholarship, which he and Jobey read in turn, hoping the owl would revert to his old self and loftily declare every word to be true. But Doc merely listened politely, as if they were speaking of some stranger. Skeet stated that a stoat’s night vision was as good as any owl’s, determined to provoke him into an argument he would have once so enjoyed, but the sharp rebuttal he sought never came. Doc merely asked if it was time for dinner. Chips told him stories, which Waff corrected at regular intervals, and Tam and Thom took him for walks round the deck.

‘We’re making good progress. Won’t be long before we’re home,’ said Pickle at the helm.

‘Good luck to you sir,’ replied Doc, as if Misty’s course was of no interest to him.

By night, the children kept vigil while the owl slept, soothing him when he started awake to tell them class was dismissed. By day he seemed most at ease when they made him comfortable at the foot of the foremast and to please him wrote essays on subjects they had selected from his library. Sassy read what she had learned about Queen Boudicca’s revolt against the invading Romans.

‘What do you think?’ she asked, hoping to rouse the teacher in him to correct any errors.

Doc stared at her in bewilderment. ‘Have I missed dinner?’ he asked.

The Cook shuffled up with a mug of tea. ‘Dinner this evening,’ he said. ‘Here’s something to keep you going.’

‘Thank you, but I want to go home now,’ the owl told him.

‘We’ll soon be there. It’s nice having your pupils read to you isn’t it?’

‘Very nice,’ agreed Doc, careful not to offend anyone. ‘But I’d like to go home.’

‘Tell me about your home, Doc.’

The owl beckoned The Cook closer. ‘I’ve a roost up there,’ he whispered, pointing up the mast.

‘I think you have a lovely roost in a beautiful oak wood.’

‘Have I?’

‘And we’re going to take you there.’

‘That’s nice,’ said Doc.

Ancell seethed with rage at the mindless wanderings of his shipmate who had once been so certain of himself. Tears pricking his eyes, he again introduced himself.

‘It’s me, Ancell. You know me, don’t you?’ he pleaded.

Doc stared at him, desperately wanting to please, but turned his head away to pick irritably at the blanket the children had wrapped around him.

At midday, the crew gathered at the galley, though little was eaten, and little said. It was Merrie who forced them to face the owl’s rapidly failing health, when he suggested that Doc’s brain was so overburdened by knowing so much about everything it had given up. He had not meant the remark unkindly and had fled when Chad raged at him that no one, least of all a stupid harvest mouse who did not pay attention in class, was to mock the owl’s love of learning. Taking refuge in the galley, he complained to The Cook of the many occasions he had heard Chad scorn Doc’s knowledge.

‘But Chad wasn’t worried about him then,’ explained The Cook.

Clouds gathered throughout the afternoon, thunder rumbled in the distance and the normally reliable trade winds faltered. Misty barely held her course, as if losing the will to strive for home, and Doc weakened. As the light faded he insisted on remaining on deck, although Capt. Albern tried to persuade him his bunk would be more comfortable. The sea otter searched deep in the owl’s eyes and glanced aloft. The skies had cleared.

‘You’ll be able to see the stars,’ he said gently.

‘See the stars,’ whispered Doc.

One by one, the children collected a blanket from their bunks to sit close by their teacher. Head bowed, Capt. Albern paced the quarterdeck, then beckoned Chips. Chad watched the two talking quietly and gritted his teeth when Chips stumbled to the rail to stare into the darkening sea. The skipper was preparing for the worst. It would be the carpenter’s task to make Doc’s coffin.

Chapter 14

Misty drifted through the night, adding to the air of helplessness on deck. Capt. Albern took the helm, nursing her through the dark.

‘We’ll pick up a breeze at dawn, but we’ll get no wind tonight,’ he told Skeet.

Too tense to sleep, the crew padded restlessly about the deck, sometimes emerging out of the shadows to reveal their drawn faces in the yellow light of the galley. Waff bent over the owl, feeling his fevered brow. Skeet impatiently dragged him aside.

‘The skipper says we’ll get a wind in the morning. That’ll raise Doc’s spirits. He loves to feel the wind on his face.’

Waff shook his head. ‘Too late – he hasn’t the strength to hold on that long. He’s slipping away. Only a miracle will save him now.’

In the early hours the fever reached its height and Doc began to ramble.

‘Where are the stars?’ he kept repeating, struggling to stand, only to stare about wildly and slump to the deck.

Chantal pillowed his head in her lap.

‘Where are the stars?’ whispered Doc, and closed his eyes.

Chantal began to sing, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her lullaby broke with weeping, and the only sound was the small voice of Merrie. Stung by Chad’s criticism, and determined to show Doc he was doing his best, he sat in the light of the galley haltingly reading a book the owl had long pressed him to finish.

Doc blinked. ‘Is that Merrie?’ he whispered.

‘He’s reading to you,’ sobbed Chantal. ‘Do you remember you were always telling him to read. He’s been practicing and wants you to hear.’

Doc opened his eyes. Chad leaped to Merrie’s side.

‘Keep going! Keep reading!’ he urged.

Merrie concentrated as never before and read on.

‘Louder!’ Chad demanded, and Merrie redoubled his stumbling efforts.

Doc raised his head and frowned. ‘Punctuation Merrie! Read that passage again,’ he whispered.

‘Do it!’ commanded Chad.

Merrie read with all his might.

‘That’s better,’ said Doc, and sat up.

‘Tell me he’s pulling through – he’s got to be!’ whispered Chad, grabbing hold of Skeet.

Skeet knelt by the owl. ‘How are you feeling, Doc?’ he asked quietly.

‘A bit tired,’ said Doc. ‘It’s a lovely starry sky, but why are we all on deck in the middle of the night, and why do I feel so weak?’

‘You’ve been ill, and we’ve been keeping you company. Can you walk?’

‘I think so,’ said Doc, making an effort to stand. ‘You should be in bed!’ he told the children as Tam and Thom helped him to his cabin.

Chad embraced Merrie, holding him high as he did a jig about the deck.

‘He’s on the mend! You’re a genius!’ he told the harvest mouse as the crew slapped each other on the back and congratulated each other on Doc’s recovery.

Skeet galloped aft. ‘He’s getting better! He’s going to be all right!’ he shouted to Capt. Albern.

‘Praise be!’ murmured the sea otter, and leaving the wheel to the stoat, stood quietly at the stern rail. He breathed a prayer of thanks as the new day dawned – then thumped the rail imperiously.

‘There’s a lesson for us all, Mr Skeet!’ he announced. ‘He never gave up! Bless him! He never gave up!’

Doc slept for much of the next forty-eight hours, watched over by the children and frequently visited by the crew. On the third day he pronounced himself fit to go on deck and was privileged to sit in Capt. Albern’s deck chair, where he sipped a regular supply of mugs of tea and enjoyed the attention of everyone. The Cook even informed him that should he feel even the slightest pang of hunger, a delicacy would be prepared without delay, to which Doc replied a snack immediately would be appreciated.

‘Classes to resume next week,’ he informed Sassy.

‘Are you sure? Remember you’ve been ill,’ Sassy replied.

‘We’ve been so worried,’ said Ruth. ‘We thought you were losing your senses.’

‘What nonsense! I can’t imagine what gave you that idea!’ retorted Doc.

Ancell observed the owl holding court. He thought it was typical of Doc to bask in the limelight, blissfully unaware of the anguish he had caused.

Doc caught his eye. ‘What are you fretting about now!’ he demanded.

‘I thought you were going to die!’ Ancell accused him.

‘You’re always worrying. If it’s not one thing it’s another. The point is I’m perfectly well now. Think positive!’

Ancell nodded meekly, consoling himself that Doc was fast getting back to his irritating best.

Doc’s recovery generated an air of light-hearted celebration, even frivolity about the ship. The Cook served Jobey a double portion one lunchtime simply to enjoy watching his mixture of disbelief and amazement as he struggled to comprehend his good fortune. Pickle persuaded the unlikely couple of Chips and Waff to learn to waltz, and Capt. Albern strode about the quarterdeck conducting a triumphal march to an imaginary orchestra.

It was the ideal time, the children decided, to execute their long-plotted scheme to take a turn at Misty’s wheel. They had to wait impatiently for two days for the perfect opportunity, but early one afternoon they nodded to each other that now was the moment. Misty was heeling gently to a steady breeze. Tam and Thom, who they judged to be the most easy-going of the crew, and anyway would be too polite to refuse, were on watch. Capt. Albern, they suspected, was taking an after-lunch nap, and Skeet, unable to stand still on the quarterdeck for long, had loped to the bow to help Chad renew a lashing.

Chantal had been selected to make the initial approach, and a raffle held for the remaining order. Truename was disappointed to find he was last.

‘Now! Hurry! Or I’ll never get my turn,’ he whispered to Chantal, giving her a push.

Chantal sauntered to Tam at the helm.

‘Could I have a go – just for a moment?’ she asked demurely.

Tam looked wary and glanced at Thom. Thom shrugged, and for five minutes with Tam at hand, Chantal took the wheel.

‘Your time’s up! My turn now!’ announced Sassy, appearing at Chantal’s side.

Tam and Thom turned to see the queue behind her.

‘All of you?’ Tam questioned Sassy as she took Chantal’s place.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ said Sassy sweetly.

Tam and Thom sighed. They knew when they were beaten. Skeet and Chad watched from the bow and observed Merrie sprint from the galley to place himself at the head of the queue, only to be bundled to the back of the line. Skeet decided there was no harm provided Tam held a steady course, which he was quite capable of doing whoever was standing in his way. Ryan, Ruth and Max followed – then Thom ambled to the galley to collect a box for Truename to stand on. Within seconds of Truename taking the wheel, Tam stood back and watched.

‘You’re a natural,’ he said.

Truename laughed. ‘I can feel her! She’s really alive!’

‘Treat her tenderly and she’ll respond,’ said Tam.

‘Never force her and she’ll look after you,’ said Thom.

‘You’ve had twice your time,’ complained Merrie.

Truename handed the helm back to Tam. ‘I could stay there forever,’ he said, his eyes sparkling.

‘I do believe you could,’ said Tam with a smile.

Merrie jumped on the box, but his time was spent in a one-sided wrestling match with Tam, Merrie straining to steer Misty wherever the whim took him and Tam holding her on course.

Ancell watched and was reminded of The Cook’s mocking observation when he had stood behind the wheel the day he first stepped on board. He liked the thought of The Cook seeing him masterfully take command. Casually he sidled up to Tam and Thom.

‘I’ll take her for a while if it’s all right with you,’ he said.

Convinced it was impossible not to steer a steady course in such benign conditions, Tam stepped aside. With a glance at the galley, Ancell gripped the wheel.

Suddenly Misty, who had behaved perfectly until that moment, decided to play games. First, she romped off downwind, then as he desperately spun the spokes to haul her back, she bucked back into the wind and came to a shuddering halt, her sails flapping in protest. Simultaneously, Thom pushed him aside, Tam brought the ship back on course, Skeet and Chad sprinted aft, Waff and Chips rushed from the bosun’s locker to stare, The Cook peered from the galley, and Capt. Albern’s head appeared from the companionway.

‘Sorry Skipper!’ apologised Tam and Thom.

‘It was my fault,’ owned up Ancell, still bewildered at what had happened.

Capt. Albern frowned at Skeet, Tam and Thom, gave Ancell a hard look, and muttering darkly returned below.

‘How do you expect us to rest, making all that row!’ yelled Pickle and Jobey, clambering from the fo’c’sle.

‘Dreaming again!’ sighed Chad.

Ancell ignored them all. His eyes were on The Cook, who was leaning against the galley, doubled up with laughter.

‘Sorry!’ he muttered to Tam and Thom, and fled below. He passed Doc on the way.

‘What’s going on?’ demanded the owl.

‘Nothing to worry about,’ reported Ancell, and quickly shut his cabin door.

Doc stumbled on deck. ‘Why were the sails making all that noise?’ he asked.

‘Ancell took the helm,’ grumbled Waff.

‘Can I have a go too?’ pleaded Doc.

‘No!’ shouted everybody.

Ancell bore the unrelenting teasing throughout dinner with as much dignity as he could muster. Not unexpectedly, The Cook suggested he should wait until Misty was safely moored before he next took the helm. Every member of the crew managed to think up some joke about dreaming hedgehogs, and after the meal Truename drew him aside to explain that steering a ship was a matter of feel, and left him with a paternal pat of encouragement. Then Doc arrived with a sheaf of diagrams covered with arrows indicating the balancing forces of the water resistance on the hull and the wind on the sails, which, he lectured, provided a ship’s momentum.

‘It’s the same principle as birds flying,’ he explained, ‘but of course as you can’t fly you wouldn’t understand that either.’

Ancell handed back the papers. ‘I suppose this comes from your many years of experience at the helm? You should tell Tam and Thom how it’s done. I’m sure they’d appreciate your advice.’

‘There’s no need to be sarcastic,’ retorted Doc. ‘Anyway, they’re naturals. But an explanation should be of benefit to someone as inept as yourself.’

‘Would you mind going away,’ said Ancell.

‘If you’re not willing to learn I certainly shall,’ huffed Doc.

Ancell watched the owl negotiate the deck, and felt much better when The Cook swung open the galley door and Doc walked straight into it.

Chapter 15

The crew were still amusing themselves thinking up hedgehog jokes, when with a faltering puff of farewell, the trade winds left Misty to roll uncomfortably in fickle airs, so light and variable, they had to work hard to keep her moving.

Skeet and Chad watched Capt. Albern pace the quarterdeck, send Tam aloft to examine a block on the topsail yard, check Thom at the helm was on course, and with a vague nod in their direction, disappear below.

‘Why does he check everything when I’m on watch? It’s as though he no longer trusts me,’ complained Skeet. ‘And why does he keep climbing to the crowsnest? There’s nothing to see.’

Chad nodded. ‘He knows I inspect the rigging every day, and as for making sure we’re on course, he knows that lying on his bunk. I’ve never known him so uneasy. The only time he relaxes is at nightfall.’

‘Maybe he’s just tired.’

‘He’s missing Truegard. That’s for sure,’ said Chad.

Chad was correct. Hunched over the chart table, the sea otter was feeling very alone without his first mate to share his fears. Though he had said nothing at the time of the albatross’s warning, he had known the man who would gladly flog him to death was Laughing Jack. Early in his naval career the two of them had served on the same ship. Jealous of the senior officers’ high regard of Albern, Laughing Jack had stolen the belongings of a few of the crew and hidden them together with items of his own in Albern’s sea bag. He had then reported a thief on board and the ensuing search had revealed Albern to be the culprit. It was only by chance that a sick seaman lying hidden in his hammock had observed Laughing Jack creeping about the fo’c’sle. His evidence, coupled with the fact that Albern was on watch at the supposed time of the thefts, had led the captain to find Laughing Jack guilty of scheming to blacken Albern’s character. Laughing Jack had received a dozen lashes, and at each cut of the cat-o’-nine-tails had sworn that one day he would make Albern suffer the same. Vengeance had consumed his life from that moment on, and jumping ship at the first opportunity, he had quickly become the most merciless pirate to murder and plunder his way across the oceans.

Now that Misty had rescued the children, Capt. Albern was in no doubt Laughing Jack would pursue her, even more determined to exact his revenge. That Misty had a start of a few hours, days, or even weeks was of no consequence. Carrying double the canvas and sailing at more than twice the speed, “The Executioner” would sail ahead and wait to ambush her where she was most vulnerable. Whatever course he chose to take, Misty could not avoid the areas of calms where “The Executioner” stood the best chance of sighting her. The sea otter stared at the neat cross marking Misty’s position bordering the bright blue waters of the often-windless Sargasso Sea. There was the possibility that “The Executioner” might be patrolling more to the east or to the west, but she was a powerful vessel and could sweep wide distances while Misty laboured to make a few miles. Laughing Jack would not be far distant. He could only hope that fate was on his side.

‘The dolphins are back!’ yelled Merrie in the middle of a maths period, and led the charge to the ship’s rail. Doc sighed and closed his textbook. It was not the first time dolphins had interrupted a class. During the trade wind passage they had often surfed on Misty’s bow wave, as if urging her on faster, before, on some magical signal, leaping far ahead to leave everyone admiring their grace and speed.

‘Class dismissed,’ he announced to an empty afterdeck, and followed the children, noting it was always Merrie who saw them first and brought his lessons to an end.

‘Hurry up, Doc, or you’ll miss them!’ shouted Ruth, hanging far over the side. ‘There’s a whole school of them!’

‘They travel in pods,’ corrected Doc. ‘Dolphins are toothed whales. This is a nursery group of females and their young – so in a way it is a school as you said.’

‘I wouldn’t mind being in that school. I bet they’ve never heard of homework,’ muttered Merrie.

‘How slender and streamlined they are,’ said Chantal.

‘They’re common dolphins – smaller than the bottlenose ones we’ve seen before,’ Doc explained.

With no bow wave to play on, the dolphins cruised alongside, raising their beaks to smile up at the children. Merrie caught the eye of one he thought especially graceful and waved. The dolphin held his gaze, then effortlessly slipped below the water to surface directly below him.

‘Come and swim with me,’ she called.

Merrie stood entranced, and for the first time in his life coloured bashfully.

‘What’s your name?’ he stammered.

‘Noya. What’s yours?’

‘Merrie.’

‘Come on Merrie! Jump! Ride on my back!’

‘I’d get all wet!’

Noya dived – then shot out of the water past the harvest mouse’s nose, her shining black back and creamy white belly flashing in the sunlight as she executed a mid-air roll. She then deliberately flopped on her back with a splash that soaked him to the tip of his tail.

‘You’re wet now!’ Noya laughed.

Merrie wiped the salt from his eyes. He thought Noya was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

‘Promise you won’t let me drown!’ he called.

‘Of course not! Come on! Let’s have fun!’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘You’re scared!’

‘No I’m not!’

‘Then come on!’

‘Don’t you dare!’ cried Doc, lunging for the harvest mouse, but Merrie, putting his trust in Noya and holding his nose, had jumped. He barely touched the water before Noya slid beneath him and took him on a triumphant high-speed circuit of Misty.

‘Anyone else want a ride?’ asked another young dolphin.

‘All of you come! We can have races,’ called another.

‘I bet none of you can beat Noya and me,’ yelled Merrie.

‘We’ll see about that!’ shouted Truename, hurling himself over the side, and within a second was sitting astride a dolphin in hot pursuit.

Ryan grabbed Ruth’s hand. ‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘Let’s go!’ laughed Ruth. A moment later, Sassy, Chantal and Max hit the water.

‘Come back all of you this minute!’ wailed Doc, fluttering helplessly up and down the rail as his pupils, each astride a dolphin, careered round the ship whooping with delight.

‘Look at me! No hands!’ shouted Sassy, and promptly fell off, to be picked up again, spluttering and laughing.

‘How about this!’ yelled Max, balancing high above the water on the beak of his dolphin.

‘Please come back!’ begged Doc, but all he got was a cheerful wave from Merrie as Noya sped past, zigzagging after Truename in a game of tag.

Doc’s despairing cries brought the crew to his side. They watched disapprovingly. As far as they were concerned the sea was for sailing on, not swimming in, dolphins or not – though they had to laugh, when urged on by Merrie, Noya made a shallow leap and the harvest mouse landed facing her tail. Skeet rushed up, took a single glance, and ordered the gig to be lowered that moment.

‘I don’t want the skipper to hear about this,’ pleaded Doc.

‘Not a chance! He senses anything happening on deck even when he’s asleep,’ answered Skeet. Doc glanced aft in dismay, only to see the sea otter emerge from the companionway to stare in horror at the children’s antics. Chad nudged the owl.

‘Write out “I must not lose my class overboard” one hundred times,’ he giggled.

‘It’s more serious than that,’ countered The Cook. ‘I’d say bread and water for a month.’

‘At the least!’ agreed Chad. ‘He’ll need provisions for when the skipper casts him off in an open boat.’

‘We can’t afford to lose a boat,’ argued Waff, ‘but Chips could knock up some sort of a raft. How’s your navigation Doc?’

‘You could visit South America again. You wanted to go exploring,’ suggested Chad.

‘Or Africa is the other way. You said you’d like to visit,’ added Chips.

Doc glared at each of them, and steeling himself, trudged aft. Gloomily waiting to face the captain, who, much to the disappointment of the dolphins, was ordering the children into the gig, he spied a small sooty-grey bird with a white under-wing flying in a dizzy zigzag fashion, sometimes pausing for short glides and sometimes dropping low to patter over the water. It rose to flutter back and forth along the stern rail. The storm petrel cocked her head.

‘I assume you’re not the skipper,’ she said disparagingly. Doc thought that if he were, the first thing he’d do would be to tie Merrie to the nearest mast.

‘Over there,’ he replied, nodding towards Capt. Albern.

‘Tell him I’m here,’ instructed the bird.

‘If you want to speak to him, go to him,’ replied Doc, in no mood to be ordered about. The bird took off, made a couple of circuits of Doc’s head, and landed on the rail again.

‘Can’t! I’m not made for standing about on boats. Make it snappy will you. I’ve a long way to go and I’ve not got all day.’

Doc sighed and plodded to Capt. Albern.

‘Skipper there’s a…’

‘Not now Doc!’ replied the sea otter, keeping his eyes on the boatful of children.

‘A storm petrel wants to speak to you,’ persisted Doc.

Capt. Albern looked up and without a word hurried to the stern rail. As a sailor, he had a high regard for the tiny birds.

‘This is a pleasure. Can I be of any assistance?’ he enquired.

The storm petrel dispensed with any pleasantries and came to the point.

‘You might be in danger. There’s an armed ship patrolling ahead of you. Could be pirates.’

The sea otter stared at the bird, his worst fears confirmed. Fate had favoured Laughing Jack.

‘A black hulled vessel?’ he asked.

‘Correct – and she’s edging your way.’

‘Has she seen us?’

‘Can’t say, but she soon will, and be alongside you within two days.’

‘We must run. We need a wind.’

‘No chance of that. There’s a depression moving in to the north west which would give you a blow, but it’s too far off to be of any help.’

‘Thank you for the warning anyway.’

‘Thought you should know,’ said the storm petrel, taking a sidelong look at Doc.

‘Tell me’ she said, ‘is that some kind of a bird?’

‘An owl.’

‘Can it fly?’

‘They do.’

‘An owl,’ repeated the petrel. ‘Amazing! Never seen anything like it!’ and with a final flutter along the stern rail, took off. ‘Good luck!’ she cried.

‘And a safe passage to you!’ called Capt. Albern.

‘High handed cocky little thing,’ muttered Doc, watching the bird resume her journey.

‘But a superb navigator and weather forecaster,’ retorted Skeet.

He was the only one to speak. Gathered about the afterdeck, the crew were brooding over the bird’s message.

‘It’s Laughing Jack isn’t it?’ said Ancell wearily.

‘Seems so,’ replied Capt. Albern, and ordered the crew to turn the ship about.

However Misty made no better progress heading south than she had north.

Ancell grabbed Chad. ‘If we can’t see “The Executioner” she can’t see us, right?’

‘Wrong! Her masts are taller than ours and their lookout will be able to see further.’

Ancell’s head drooped. ‘But if we are becalmed so are they, so they won’t be able to catch us?’

‘Wrong again! “The Executioner” is built for speed and we’re not. Moreover, light airs are to her advantage. She’ll slip along quite nicely while we’re at a standstill.’

‘So, you’re saying it’s the end of us.’

‘Not at all! We’ve still got tomorrow and maybe tomorrow night.’

‘How will that help?’

Chad wrinkled his nose.

‘How?’ demanded Ancell.

Chad rounded on him. ‘Will you please leave the worrying to the skipper!’ he snapped. ‘For a start, we’ve not given up even if you have. You’ve said before that something will turn up when we’re in a tight spot, so if you want to do something useful, dream up just that!’

Standing high in the crowsnest of “The Executioner”, Laughing Jack scoured the ocean impatiently. Day after day he had watched from dawn to dusk for Misty’s topsails to show above the horizon. Suddenly he tensed and began to smile.

‘Got you at last, Albern,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve waited so many years for this moment. You hoped to slip past me in the dead of night, but whatever course you sailed I’d have tracked you down and you know it. The oceans are wide but there’s only room for one of us. And now I have sight of you I’ll sink your ship. But first you’ll feel the cut of my lash, and I promise you it will cut very deep. Hoping won’t save you now. My time has come, and yours is at an end.’

Chapter 16

Capt. Albern clung to the foot of a rope ladder explaining to the dolphins the peril Misty faced. They quickly forgot their playfulness and Noya called her mother.

‘Would we find a wind if I lowered our rowing boats and we pulled Misty?’ the captain asked her.

Adriel shook her head and confirmed the petrel’s forecast. The sea otter sighed. There was no point in exhausting the crew for the sake of a mile or two.

‘I wish you were larger,’ he said sadly. ‘I’d ask you all to give us a tow.’

Adriel pondered. ‘Maybe I could ask the whales.’

‘Would they come?’

‘They won’t refuse a call for help.’

‘But could they be here by dawn tomorrow? We’ve little time in hand.’

‘As many as you’ll need. They’ll know where I am the moment I call, and I’ll tell them it’s urgent. A Blue whale, a hundred miles distant could still be here in time and even the slowest Sperm whale within forty miles should make it.’

The sea otter glanced up at Misty’s sails falling limp as the last zephyr of breeze died with the onset of dusk.

‘Please ask. They’re our only hope,’ he said.

The crew listened doubtfully to the news that the whales might come to their aid, every one of them still praying for a wind, any wind from any direction that would carry Misty a few critical miles through the night.

‘I’m sure we’ll get a breeze – it could spring up at any moment,’ stated Skeet brightly.

‘Maybe, Mr Skeet,’ replied the captain, ‘but we’ll show no lights tonight.’

Skeet immediately confiscated Waff’s pipe, despite the sailmaker protesting he felt lonely without it, lit or not.

‘At least we can thank Laughing Jack for one blessing,’ observed Chips, but nobody laughed.

It was a long night. Staring into the darkness, the watches spoke in whispers, wincing at every creak of Misty’s rigging and the occasional slat of her sails that seemed to signal her position across the entire ocean. The children slept fitfully – Truename not at all, and it was he who first heard the faint moans, grunts, chirps and whistles of the whales echo through Misty’s wooden hull. The children listened in wonder as the sounds grew louder. Doc squeezed through their cabin door.

‘Do you hear?’ he whispered. ‘They’re replying to Adriel’s message.’

‘It’s lovely,’ murmured Chantal, ‘all those whales out there thinking of us. I wonder how near they are?’

‘I wish it was morning so we could see them,’ said Max.

‘Sleep is the quickest way to pass the night,’ advised Doc.

‘Can’t sleep!’ said Ryan.

‘We could do an algebra exercise.’

The children pulled their blankets over their heads and Sassy made an exaggerated snore. Doc crept back to his cabin, and one by one, comforted by the songs of the whales, the children slept.

The crew, too, listened to the whales and silently shared the thought that every minute the peace-loving animals they so admired swam to their aid, Laughing Jack was closing in. If the whales reached them in time, Misty was in with a chance, but if the whales met Laughing Jack, the gentleness of the great creatures would be no match for a hatred beyond their comprehension. If it came to a battle it was better Misty fought alone.

Capt. Albern climbed to the crowsnest the moment the first grey light of dawn filtered across the quiet sea. He scanned the horizon and was relieved to see no ship. Then, as the sun rose, adding colour to the day, he turned around and around to gaze in awe at the waters below. Whales were heading towards Misty from every direction. Ahead, he saw the pointed heads and the slate grey backs of a pod of Minkes, and behind them the metallic grey of the slender Sei whales. To starboard he recognised the ridges on the heads of the stocky Brydes whales, and beyond them, and more than twice their size, the beautifully streamlined fifty-ton Fin whales, strikingly marked by their white flippers and tails. He looked to port to see a pod of thirty Humpbacks lazing abreast of the ship, and a little further off, Short Finned Pilot whales kept escort. He spun round again to witness the forward angled blowing of a giant Sperm whale slowly approaching astern, then his heart leapt as he spied a distant fine mist blow thirty feet in the air. The whale was travelling fast. The Blue whale, the greatest and most powerful of all, was answering Adriel’s call.

The sea otter shot down the ratlines, galloped across the deck and shinned down the ladder. He noticed a group of five Pygmy Sperm whales close by the hull, and felt grateful that even they, though not much larger than the dolphins, had come to offer what help they could.

‘I told you they’d come,’ said Adriel with a smile. ‘What now?’

‘We’ll try a tow.’

‘It would be easier for the toothed whales to take a line,’ suggested Adriel. ‘How about the Sperm whale, he could do it alone.’

‘I’m nervous he might dive. I don’t want Misty dragged down six thousand feet. Would you ask four of the Pilot whales to take a line each?’

‘I’ll try,’ replied Adriel, ‘but remember I sent a general distress call which every whale would naturally answer. Relaying specific instructions when we all speak on different frequencies will not be easy.’

‘Do your best,’ begged Capt. Albern, and climbed back on board to issue a stream of orders.

The morning passed with one frustration following another. Hard though Adriel worked to communicate the sea otter’s instructions, it became necessary for the dolphins to demonstrate the task, and there was further delay while the Pilot whales discussed who should try first. Even when the tow began it proved disappointing. The Pilot whales were used to surfacing only to take a breath, and their progress on top of the water was slow. They also tended to bite through the towlines, which became shorter and shorter until Chad ran aft to report they only had enough rope to splice a single tow.

‘Try a Fin whale,’ urged Skeet, losing patience. ‘A big one would be twenty times the weight of those Pilots – we’d only need one.’

‘Wouldn’t work,’ replied Capt. Albern. ‘Adriel says that without the teeth to take a grip, the baleen whales couldn’t take the weight of the ship in their mouths. We’ll have to risk a push from the Sperm whale. He must be all of forty-five tons, so shifting Misty should be child’s play to him.’

After a demonstration by the dolphins, Thom tensed at the helm and all the crew held their breath as the great bull Sperm whale nosed his massive head, a third of his body length, against Misty’s stern. The ship surged forward with a single thrust of his tail, but then her stern lifted, her bow dug in, and with a lurch she broached sideways, throwing several of the children and Doc across the deck.

‘I’ve got no steering,’ called Thom desperately as she clung to the wheel.

The Sperm whale tried again, but after a few minutes Misty broached to the other side and Capt. Albern leaped to the rail to signal Adriel to call a halt. To make matters worse, the Humpbacks, eager to help, decided to swim alongside and nudge Misty along, but only succeeded in causing the ship to pitch and roll. The confusion in the sea and on deck only subsided when the Blue whale approached from where she had been watching. The Humpbacks calmed down and the dolphins relaying Adriel’s messages ceased to streak back and forth to admire the magnificent creature. The crew stood in awe as she slid her two-hundred-ton body, longer by many feet than the ship, beneath Misty’s hull. Then they felt the ship lift and move steadily forward.

‘Nobody will believe you when you tell this story,’ whispered Waff to Chips, daring to break the stunned silence on deck. Chips just stood open-mouthed as Misty picked up speed.

Since sunrise the ship had not felt a breath of breeze on her canvas. Now Capt. Albern watched horrified as a catspaw of wind ruffled the surface of the water towards them. Cruelly it filled Misty’s sails. She heeled, slipped from the narrow, streamlined back, and crashing into the sea was left wallowing in the Blue whale’s wake.

‘Get all the canvas off! We’ll try again,’ he shouted to Skeet, and climbed down to Adriel. He was about to ask if the Blue whale would make another attempt when the Humpbacks began to breach, some throwing their thirty-ton bodies almost clear of the water and landing in cascades of spray. Others smashed the water with their tails, or rolled, waving their long white fins aggressively.

‘What’s upset them?’ he asked, watching nervously.

‘We’ve just learned the Orca are massing not far off,’ replied Adriel anxiously. ‘The whales can’t risk staying in case they’re in the mood for a kill, and I’m sorry but we’ll have to leave you as well.’

The captain fought down his disappointment. ‘I understand,’ he replied. ‘Thank you for your help, and please thank the whales for trying their best.’

‘What will you do?’

‘Fight as best we can.’

‘The Orca are the whales for you if you have to fight. They’re called killer whales for good reason.’

‘But would they fight for us? And how?’

‘They’re clever, they’d plan how, but whether they would is another matter. They’re unpredictable – sometimes they play, sometimes they kill. What is certain is that they’re a formidable force.’

Hanging over the topsail yard with Jobey, Pickle stopped heaving in the canvas and yelling at Skeet, pointed. The whales were swimming away. The Blue whale turned to look up at Misty’s crew as if to say sorry, then raised her tail and dived. When they next saw her blow she was far distant.

‘Set all sail again,’ ordered Skeet.

‘Make up your mind!’ grumbled Jobey.

‘It’s not Skeet’s fault,’ retorted Pickle.

‘I know,’ sighed Jobey. ‘It’s just that I’m getting tired of today. We must have had a thousand tons of help cruising about down there, and we’re still sitting here. First, it’s furling the sails, now it’s setting them. I wouldn’t mind telling Laughing Jack to his face the trouble he’s causing me.’

Pickle stared into the distance and quietly cursed.

‘Seems like you’ll soon be able to do just that,’ he replied.

Jobey followed his gaze. The topsails of a ship had appeared above the horizon and it was bearing directly down on them.

Chapter 17

Capt. Albern immediately held a council of war. Apart from the unlikely event of the Orca coming to their aid, escape was no longer possible. They would have to prepare to repel boarders.

‘We’ve seen them off before and we’ll do it again,’ declared Skeet.

‘That we will,’ agreed Chad. ‘The moment Laughing Jack steps on board this ship he’s mine.’

‘Not if I get there before you!’ promised Skeet.

‘I should be the one to finish him off for all the extra work he’s causing me,’ complained Jobey, and looked all the more aggrieved when told he was at the back of the queue.

Ancell and Doc stood with the children watching the whales disperse, moving slowly, as if loathe to leave Misty on her own. There was no sign of the dolphins. The Sperm whale waited a little longer, but then he, too, raised his tail in regretful farewell, and dived.

‘We won’t see him again,’ observed Doc. ‘He can dive for over an hour.’

‘Who are the Orca?’ Sassy asked.

‘The Orca are the killer whales, the kings of the ocean. Not even a great white shark would be able to fight off an Orca’s attack.’

‘So why haven’t they come before if they’re so powerful?’ demanded Ryan. ‘All the other whales tried to help.’

‘Who knows?’ sighed Doc. ‘Maybe they just chose not to. Maybe Adriel didn’t ask them. The other whales would not have come if they were around. They were originally correctly called whale killers.’

‘It would be wonderful if they did come to save us,’ mused Ruth.

‘And they were friendly to the other whales,’ added Chantal.

‘And the dolphins came back as well, then we could all swim together,’ said Max.

‘In which case, I think I might join you,’ said Doc with a smile.

Ancell thumped the stern rail. ‘Stop it! Just cut out pretending will you!’ he yelled at Doc. The owl looked sharply at the hedgehog and drew him to one side.

‘What’s getting at you? You’ve hardly said a word since that impertinent little storm petrel deigned to visit us.’

‘We’ve failed. I’ve failed,’ snarled Ancell. ‘The skipper should never have taken me on board. Soon the children will be back in Laughing Jack’s hands and Truegard will have died for nothing.’

‘That’s not for certain. Laughing Jack hasn’t caught up with us yet. Remember the anaconda saved you and Chad at the last moment, and against all the odds you dealt with Larren.’

Ancell laughed bitterly. ‘And I bet his bones are mocking us this very moment.’

‘Just hold onto your dreams.’

‘What’s the use of dreams? Mine have come to nothing.’

Doc watched a distant whale blowing. ‘But there is always hope. We must always hope,’ he replied.

Merrie and Truename suddenly shouted from the crowsnest, and with heavy hearts the crew climbed the rigging for a first sight of “The Executioner”, but the two lookouts were dancing about and waving at a wide arc of the horizon.

Doc stared. ‘Now there’s a sight!’ he breathed. ‘The Orca are coming!’

Ancell hobbled to the ratlines and risked climbing a little to get a view. He first saw the whales returning, swimming warily and staying defensively close to one another. Then in the far distance he saw what looked like the white crest of a breaking wave as the Orca charged at close to thirty miles an hour, some leaping as others plunged, every one of them straining to be ahead of the next. The unstoppable army surged forward in a tumult of foam, not breaking pace. Then just as he thought they were determined to attack the whales and Misty herself, he watched them peel off in military precision to form a watchful circle. The whales, concentrating too much on helping Misty, had misjudged the speed of the Orcas’ approach. Now they were corralled about Misty, waiting tensely for the Orca squadrons to signal their intent.

Capt. Albern watched a single Orca swim from the ranks, flanked by two lieutenants holding station at a respectful distance. A hundred yards from Misty the commander waited.

‘Lower the gig,’ ordered Misty’s master.

‘I’ll row you,’ announced Skeet.

‘Take command of the ship, Mr Skeet – I’ll go alone.’

‘Take me! Let me talk to him,’ begged Ancell.

Capt. Albern considered and nodded. The gig was lowered, and the crew watched in silence as their skipper pulled for the Orcas’ leader.

‘Capt. Albern of “Misty Dawn” – my compliments to you!’ hailed the sea otter, resting on his oars. Rising from the water a little, displaying an immaculate white chin and a distinctive white patch above each eye, the Orca regarded them sternly. Ancell noticed with a shiver the powerful set of fifty or so four-inch conical teeth. Close to twenty-five feet long and weighing eight tons, the whale was a fearsome animal, and the gig suddenly seemed very small and frail.

‘Commander Coran,’ responded the Orca in the clipped tone of one used to issuing orders to be obeyed without question. ‘Well?’ he snapped.

Capt. Albern explained their plight and the little time they had to escape.

‘We implore you to help us!’ added Ancell.

‘Do you indeed!’ replied Coran. ‘First you insult us by talking to every whale within miles without consulting me. Now you’re in a mess, largely of your own making, you come begging.’

‘We didn’t mean to upset you,’ pleaded Ancell.

‘Well you have! You should have asked us first, in which case we could no doubt have helped. As it is we’re here purely out of curiosity after one of my patrols reported your recent antics.’

Ancell stared at Coran in angry disbelief. It would not be long before Laughing Jack boarded Misty. Every moment was vital, yet this commander of a well-trained army was quibbling like a petulant child.

‘I’ve said I’m sorry we’ve upset you, and it’s a pity you are unable to help us,’ he muttered.

‘We certainly could,’ retorted the commander, ‘but whether you merit our assistance is another matter.’

A fast swimming Orca plunged towards them. It surfed to a halt in front of Coran, nearly capsizing the gig. The commander listened to a brief report.

‘Is the ship hunting you called “The Executioner”?’ he asked.

‘It is,’ replied Capt. Albern.

‘Why didn’t you say so? That ship’s a very different proposition. Two days ago they loosed off cannon shots at us. Seemed to find the target practice amusing.’

‘How long before it reaches us?’ asked the sea otter.

‘Not until nightfall, which gives me the advantage of being able to work under the cover of dark.’

‘Are you saying you will help us?’

‘Of course! I’ll teach them something they won’t find so funny.’

‘Would you tow us through the night?’

‘Running away is pointless. We need to counter attack.’

‘We’ve nothing to attack with. We carry no arms.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. All I need from you is a stout piece of timber, roughly the circumference of your topmasts and as long as the width of your ship. Secure a cross piece at one end and sharpen the other to a point.’

Capt. Albern hesitated. ‘We’d have to cut one of the ship’s booms in half, and I’m loathe to do that.’

‘We can’t help unless you do.’

‘Very well – how soon?’

‘I’ll rendezvous with you at sunset plus eight hours.’

‘There’s one thing I’d like to suggest,’ interrupted Ancell, ignoring the captain’s warning look.

Coran frowned. ‘And that is?’

‘I expect the dolphins and the other whales would just get in your way, so wouldn’t it be best just to let them go?’

‘Who’s in charge of this operation – you or me?’ demanded Coran.

‘You are,’ replied Capt. Albern quickly, kicking Ancell hard.

‘Thank you!’ acknowledged the Orca, a little pacified. ‘They can leave in due course, but meanwhile they’re a strategic resource. Party dismissed!’

Ancell watched the commander swim back to his lines without another word.

‘What an overbearing, arrogant, know all!’ he exclaimed.

‘But also an intelligent, resourceful and highly professional commander,’ stated Capt. Albern, starting to row.

‘He treated you like a cabin boy!’

‘I really don’t think that matters. The important thing is that he’s agreed to help.’

‘What does he want the wood for?’

‘I was about to ask when you interrupted,’ replied the captain, and pulled hard for Misty.

Chapter 18

‘It’s sacrilege! I won’t do it!’ argued Chips fiercely, when Skeet instructed him to cut the boom which secured the foot of Misty’s fore-spencer sail, in two.

‘Skipper’s orders,’ shouted Skeet over his shoulder, running for the ratlines at a yell from the crowsnest, where Merrie and Truename had been ordered to report the moment the hull of the “The Executioner” showed above the horizon. He climbed quickly and grimaced. At the rate she was moving even in such light airs she would catch up with them that night.

‘Get a move on!’ shouted Capt. Albern at Chips.

Even with “The Executioner” bearing down on them, Chips hesitated, lovingly stroking the varnished wood.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, ‘but you might save all our lives,’ and closing his eyes, slowly began to saw.

Capt. Albern watched the carpenter dithering and ran out of patience.

‘Take an axe to it!’ he called to Chad.

Chips eyed the bosun with a shudder. ‘Please no! At least let me make a clean cut of it,’ he implored.

Waff gently drew him aside. ‘We need you to concentrate on making a makeshift boom. Go down to the hold to sort out what you can use.’

Chips nodded, but with head bowed plodded to the fo’c’sle and slumped on his bunk, wincing at every fall of the axe. He returned on deck only when the sound of splintering wood had ceased.

‘All over!’ said Waff. ‘Now we want a good sharp point.’

Chips stared at the pieces of Misty’s once beautiful boom. ‘It’ll be sharp! Very sharp!’ he promised through gritted teeth.

While Chips worked, the crew prepared for the attack. The deck would be indefensible if the pirates boarded from “The Executioner” lying alongside. Consequently, a rear-guard action was planned in the dim light of Misty’s hull. Every bulkhead, nook and cranny were to be a point of ambush, and the forepeak, where the children were to hide under piles of canvas, was where they would make their final stand.

Ancell stood gripping the stern rail, unable to tear his eyes from “The Executioner” relentlessly closing the few remaining miles between the two ships – the hunter slipping effortlessly through the water, the quarry unable to flee. He felt Laughing Jack’s telescope already on him and his stomach churned. Clouds gathered in the oppressive air and he looked up as a few heavy drops of rain splattered the deck, presaging a thunderstorm and possibly a wind with the downpour. But the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

Laughing Jack watched Misty, still silhouetted in the dying light of the western horizon, and smiled. Then he laughed and ordered a broadside to be fired at the doomed ship, even though she was well beyond range.

‘Just to wish you sweet dreams! They’ll be your last!’ he shouted, as the cannons thundered.

Misty’s crew threw themselves to the deck as ragged flashes of flame pierced the darkening sky. They seemed to hear the whine of the cannonballs for a long time before the sea astern erupted in plumes of spray.

‘If that’s ordering us to surrender they can think again,’ stated Skeet, climbing to his feet.

‘I reckon they’ve lost us in the dark,’ said Chad.

‘But not for long,’ muttered Skeet, looking up as the clouds drifted apart to reveal the quarter moon.

Capt. Albern glanced aloft, and with a heavy heart ordered the sails hanging motionless in the baleful light to be furled. The crew worked with an increasing sense of unease. With no sails set they felt still more vulnerable even though the bare masts would be more difficult for “The Executioner” to spot. Without the canvas to steady her, Misty rolled helplessly, mirroring the fears of her crew, and every one of them started nervously when The Cook allowed the galley door to slam. Ancell half curled by the stern rail. He could make out the forms of the children huddled amidships, Merrie nestling between Sassy and Chantal. Capt. Albern stood motionless while Skeet padded impatiently about the quarterdeck. Tam and Tom lay on their backs, side by side, gazing up at the stars. Only the creak of the rigging disturbed the silence.

Silently, the predatory outline of “The Executioner” emerged out of the night. Ancell prayed she might yet pass them by, but then with a sinking heart heard the ship heave to. The careless moon had given Misty away.

Laughing Jack’s voice rang out across the water.

‘So, Albern, we meet again!’ he called. ‘Lower a boat and row yourself aboard. Just yourself, I have no business with your crew.’

‘He must be joking!’ muttered Skeet.

‘Albern! Albern! Give us Albern!’ chanted the pirates.

Capt. Albern squared his shoulders. ‘Lower the gig, Mr Skeet,’ he ordered.

‘Don’t be stupid, Skipper! He’ll kill you!’ pleaded Chad.

‘I assume so,’ grunted the sea otter, ‘but possibly that might satisfy him, and at least it will buy you a little more time while he’s amusing himself with me. It could put you in with a chance. If I stay we could be boarded at any moment. Lower the gig, Mr Skeet, and I put you in command.’

Skeet stood resolutely silent.

‘That’s an order! Mr Skeet.’

Chad whispered in the stoat’s ear. Skeet listened intently and turned to face the captain.

‘So you confirm I command this ship?’

‘I do.’

‘As of now?’

‘As of now.’

Skeet drew himself up to his full height and took a deep breath.

‘Then I put you under arrest. You will be accompanied by Chad and Tam until you have spoken to the Orca. Resist and you will be locked in your cabin.’

The sea otter stared blankly as Chad and Tam moved close on either side of him.

‘Stop this nonsense and do as I say,’ he snapped.

‘Too late, you’re no longer in command,’ said Chad firmly.

‘Scared of meeting your old shipmate, Albern?’ shouted Laughing Jack. ‘I was looking forward to reminiscing about old times. I seem to recollect we once sailed together. Do you remember? I remember it well! What are you waiting for? Are you praying for a miracle?’

‘Albern’s on his knees! Albern’s on his knees!’ taunted the pirates.

Jobey ran to the ship’s rail in a fury. ‘Will you all shut up! How do you expect me to get any sleep with you dumb headed lot yapping away all the time!’ he bellowed, and then looked mildly shocked, when after a moments silence, he received a barrage of insults, curses and threats in reply.

Pickle sighed and patted him on the back. ‘Congratulations!’ he said. ‘However dire our situation I should have known we could rely upon you to make matters just that little bit worse!’

His protests ignored, Capt. Albern waited in the gig, firmly wedged between Chad and Tam, who were both aware he could easily swim to “The Executioner” were he still so minded. At precisely the minute Coran had promised, they watched his sickle shaped fin cut through the water and unhitched Misty’s boom, which had been lowered to float alongside the boat.

‘You’ve made a good job of it,’ acknowledged Coran, while several Orca gripped the crosspiece to manoeuvre the sharpened timber to face “The Executioner”.

‘Now I think I understand what you intend to do,’ whispered the sea otter, ‘but you’ll have to aim with pinpoint accuracy. Good luck! And if we don’t see you again, we thank you for your help whether you succeed or not.’

‘We’re not leaving – there’s more to do tomorrow,’ replied Coran.

‘You must be away by dawn – remember they’re armed.’

‘Which is why I’ve ordered air cover at first light.’

‘Air cover?’

‘There’s a flock of northbound Great Shearwaters resting not far off your starboard bow. One of my squadrons has been driving shoals of fish to the surface for them, and in return they’ve promised their help,’ answered the commander, and dipped below the surface before the captain could ask any more questions.

Laughing Jack lay on his bunk nursing a flagon of wine, enjoying the thought of the children and Misty’s crew nursing their worst fears through the night. At dawn those fears would be realised when he would send a boarding party to recapture the children. He would then flog Albern to death in full view of Misty’s crew. He would take his time as the cat-o’-nine-tails cut, prolonging the agony until Albern had whimpered his last. He would keep his promise and not capture the crew – let it be remembered he was a man of his word. He would even wave them farewell as they hoisted sail. He sipped thoughtfully and laughed. Then he would sink the ship and would laugh again while he watched her crew, the rat who had so roundly cursed him, and above all the hedgehog who had dared defy him, go to the bottom.

Emptying the flask, he lay back and mulled over which he would most enjoy. He could first bring down the masts and watch the panic, or he could set the ship on fire and listen to the screams. Perhaps he would hole her below the waterline and view her sink with all sails set, the despairing cries of her drowning crew music to his ears.

He was still undecided when “The Executioner” lurched from a violent blow to her hull. Thrown from his bunk, bemused and cursing, he scrambled on deck to find the crew running about in a panic, the helmsman nursing a broken wrist, and the wheel spinning uselessly.

Chapter 19

Misty’s crew ran to the rail to peer into the night at the sounds of the angry confusion floating across the water.

‘Can you see what’s going on?’ Capt. Albern asked Doc impatiently.

‘I don’t understand! They all appear to be looking down at the sea,’ replied the owl.

‘We’ll find out soon enough. It won’t be long till dawn,’ observed Skeet.

Barely perceptibly the darkness lifted to reveal “The Executioner” drifting in slow circles. Laughing Jack was leaning over the stern, cursing loudly while several of the crew hastily lowered a boat.

‘What’s happening?’ demanded Ancell, grabbing Chad who was trembling with excitement.

‘Incredible!’ breathed Chad. ‘How they thought that out and managed it I don’t know!’

‘Who are you talking about? Who managed what?’

‘The Orca, of course! They’ve used the battering ram Chips made to jam the rudder – what’s left of it that is.’

Both relief and a sense of renewed hope spread throughout Misty as fast as the dawn chased out the night. For once the crew had to await their captain’s orders as the sea otter stood in mute admiration.

‘That’s a fine piece of seamanship, Mr Skeet,’ he eventually said.

‘Should we set the sails, Skipper?’ prompted the mate.

‘At once, Mr Skeet – a bit of a breeze and we’ll be over the horizon and in with a chance again. It’ll take them a day or more to sort out that mess.’

The light strengthened but not a breath of air stirred.

‘Maybe we’ll get a wind when the sun comes up and we can wave them goodbye,’ said Chad hopefully.

Ancell watched a man in the dinghy swing an axe to cut the battering ram free. ‘Or maybe not,’ he replied.

Misty began to move – but sideways. They peered over the side to see several Orca nudging the ship away from “The Executioner”.

‘We won’t get far going sideways,’ observed Ancell grimly.

‘They know that!’ retorted the bosun. ‘For some reason they want more clear water between us and Laughing Jack.’

Laughing Jack stared at Misty slowly moving away and ran from the stern of “The Executioner”. Even before he had reached the first cannon Ancell had a terrible premonition of what he was about to do.

‘He’s not going to board us! He’s going to sink us!’ he shouted to Chad. ‘Get down!’ he yelled at the crew as Laughing Jack levelled the barrel.

The crew threw themselves flat as the first shot ripped through Misty’s topsail. Laughing Jack roared with laughter and ran to the next gun. Splinters of wood flew as the second ball shattered her topside. Anger welled in Ancell so great he threw off Chad’s lunge to hold him back, and stumbling the length of the deck, scrambled from the bow onto Misty’s bowsprit to stand in full view.

‘I’m the one who rescued the children from you. I’m the one who killed your treacherous ally, Larren. If you want to kill me, here I am!’ he screamed.

Laughing Jack raised a musket to his shoulder and smiled. Ancell shut his eyes. He heard the crack of the gun, and wondering why he had not been hit, looked again. Churning the sea in unison, the Orca were rolling “The Executioner” from side to side. The shot had passed way above his head. Laughing Jack was clinging to a cannon to save himself from being thrown overboard, and the terrified men in the dinghy were pulling desperately for Misty, one man signalling their surrender. They had not rowed far before a six-ton Orca rose from the water to crush the boat and them beneath the waves.

He glanced at “The Executioner” again, and in horror saw the crew loading their muskets and crawling across the deck to rake the Orca with fire. He screamed a warning, but too late, as the pirates took aim.

Then the Great Shearwaters attacked. They came out of the dawn in waves, diving from high above, their black, hooked bills tearing at any glimpse of exposed flesh. Dropping their guns, the pirates beat the air to protect their heads from the ferocious assault, but with pinpoint accuracy the birds ripped at the men’s faces, until screaming with pain they stumbled for the companionway and the protection below. Laughing Jack cowered beneath a cannon slashing the air with a knife, bloodied by the whirlwind of wheeling wings and stabbing beaks.

‘Idiot!’ muttered Chad, pulling Ancell back on deck. ‘If those Orca hadn’t acted so fast you’d be a goner.’ But the bosun’s attention was elsewhere, and so was that of the crew. The whales were swimming towards “The Executioner”, seemingly content that the Orca should corral them about the ship. A pod of Pilot whales began to swim round the vessel and the great Fin whales followed, soon joined by the Sei whales, the Minke, the Brydes whales and the Humpbacks. The circling Orca picked up speed, urging the whales faster and Ancell caught his breath as the momentum of the whales increased. Faster the Orca leaped and plunged and harder the whales swam, stampeding round the “The Executioner” in a cauldron of white water as the raucous cries of the Shearwaters rose to a crescendo. The ship began to turn as the smooth sides of the whirlpool formed. The Orca charged even faster and the vortex deepened. “The Executioner” began to spin at a crazy angle, her stern sucked down and her bow pointing helplessly at the sky. Slowly the water lapped over the quarterdeck and poured below. A cannon broke loose and trundled along the deck to smash into the mizzenmast, which crashed over the side in a tangle of rigging. The water lapped higher. “The Executioner” was going down by the stern.

Misty’s crew danced about the deck, cheering wildly, and the children tumbled up the companionway to join in. Then the churning waters subsided as the Orca broke away and the whales swam free. Ancell looked up to see the Shearwaters circling high above Misty’s masts, their white necks flashing in the first rays of the sun, and listened to their harsh calls of triumph fade into the distance as they resumed their migration north. He glanced back at “The Executioner”. Now only the tip of her bow pointed hopelessly at the heavens – and Laughing Jack, the knife clenched between his teeth, was swimming to Misty’s side.

‘Throw him a line, Mr Skeet,’ ordered Capt. Albern tersely.

‘No!’ shouted Ancell, hobbling to the quarterdeck in a panic.

The sea otter turned his piercing blue eyes on him. ‘We don’t leave a man to drown, whoever he is.’

‘I’m sorry, but it’s just that…’

‘That we saved Larren, which cost Truegard his life and now we are saving Laughing Jack? We are duty bound.’

‘I’ll have him in irons the moment he’s on board,’ promised Chad.

Laughing Jack had only splashed a few strokes when the head of the first Orca surfaced beside him and with a surging lunge tossed him, arms flailing, high in the air. A second Orca threw him high again. This time the limbs hung lifeless and the limp head rolled. Like a rag doll he was cast high again, but the doll was missing an arm and a leg.

‘They enjoy a game,’ explained Chad.

Ancell watched, unable to move. Then his legs gave way and he crumpled to the deck.

‘No curling up,’ chivvied Chad, pulling him to his feet.

Ancell grabbed the bosun. ‘Did you see his eyes? He must have known all was lost, but he wasn’t swimming to us to be saved, but to kill!’

Chad shrugged. ‘Killing was on his mind and he got killed, that’s all there is to it! Stop shaking and be thankful the Orca saved us from being blown out of the water – and while you’re about it, be thankful you somehow succeeded not to fall off the bowsprit. I’ve never seen you move so fast!’

Ancell managed a smile. ‘Not as fast as you with an anaconda behind you!’

‘I had a feeling you might say that!’ said Chad, with a laugh.

‘She’s going,’ announced Tam calmly.

The crew turned to see the bow of the “The Executioner” silently slide beneath the waves. For a moment the water bubbled, and then there was nothing. They said nothing. The sinking of any ship was a terrible thing.

Chantal broke the silence. ‘We never thanked the whales. Will we see them again?’ she asked Skeet.

‘And the dolphins. We could go for a celebratory ride,’ added Merrie.

Skeet turned from staring at the water and squared his shoulders. ‘I don’t know about the whales and the dolphins,’ he replied, ‘but here come the Orca, and it looks like they’re on parade.’

Flanked by his lieutenants, Coran cruised up to Misty’s stern.

‘Mission complete!’ announced the commander.

‘You’ve saved nineteen lives this morning and rid the ocean of murderers,’ called the captain. ‘We can sail in peace now.’

‘I told you we didn’t like that ship,’ Coran replied.

‘So we noticed!’ yelled Chad gleefully.

‘Step forward the carpenter!’ ordered Coran.

Capt. Albern beckoned Chips, who reluctantly plodded to the stern rail, where he nervously removed his bowler and shuffled to attention.

‘Captain! Give him a medal!’ ordered the Orca. ‘That ram went in a treat!’

‘We’ll think of something,’ said the sea otter with a smile, as Chips visibly brightened.

‘We’ll never hear the last of this,’ groaned Waff.

‘Farewell to you captain, and remember the power of the Orca,’ called the commander.

‘That I will. We on board Misty, thank and salute you,’ replied Capt. Albern, and dipped Misty’s ensign. He and Skeet came smartly to attention, and the crew and the children followed suit as the Orca filed past in three columns, their black backs and white flanks gleaming in the morning sunshine. Then they picked up speed, and within minutes Misty was alone.

Chapter 20

Struggling to believe the last twelve hours had not been a dream, nobody said a word.

Jobey suddenly grabbed Pickle. ‘Pinch me!’ he urged. ‘Am I or am I not still alive?’

Pickle laughed. ‘Yes, we are still alive, and yes, we are still afloat. So what are you going to complain about now!’

The savoury aroma floating from the galley reminded everybody that they were not only alive but also very hungry. Capt. Albern inspected Misty while they ate, and the rest of the day was spent repairing the worst of the damage she had suffered. Chips and Waff dragged spare pieces of timber from her hold to splice into a makeshift boom, Chad and Skeet began the repairs to the shattered topside, and the children were conscripted to patch the rents in the topsail.

Ruth surveyed the canvas covering half the deck and sighed. ‘It’s wonderful that we’ll never see Laughing Jack again,’ she said. ‘But I do wish he hadn’t left us with all this work to do. It’ll take weeks.’

‘More like months,’ said Chantal, rubbing her sore fingers.

‘I’m already getting blisters and we’ve only just started,’ muttered Ryan.

‘I’m still hungry. I wish it was time for dinner,’ moaned Sassy.

‘Where’s Merrie? He should be doing his bit,’ grumbled Max.

They all looked up to see the harvest mouse supposedly holding a length of timber steady while Chips sawed.

‘How did he manage that?’ Sassy complained.

‘He hid below when he saw Waff sorting out the sewing needles,’ said Truename with a grin.

‘Typical!’ snorted Sassy.

At last The Cook leaned out of the galley to announce dinner. Chips, who had not stopped working for a moment, ate hungrily, and unusually removed his bowler to wipe his perspiring brow. Chad watched the carpenter’s eyes close and his head nod. Stealthily picking up the hat he disappeared into the bosun’s locker to return holding the bowler aloft with a large gold star painted on the crown.

‘Your medal, as commanded by the Orca!’ he announced, shaking Chips awake.

Chips jumped to his feet, outraged. ‘You’ve ruined my best hat!’ he yelled.

‘Your only hat,’ Waff reminded him.

‘I think it looks very smart!’ said Ruth, suppressing a giggle.

‘Every time we see it we’ll be reminded of the battering ram you made,’ said Chantal.

‘And you’ll know where the front is,’ added Max helpfully.

‘I think it’s very ungracious of you not to say thank you,’ said Chad with a smirk.

Chips eyed him suspiciously. ‘I suppose it’s better than nothing. But the moment we step ashore you can buy me another one,’ he grumbled.

Day and night, Misty continued to struggle in deceptive zephyrs of wind that promised to help her home, but then died.

‘First Laughing Jack tries to kill us. Now the skipper’s decided to work us to death,’ grumbled Jobey one breakfast time, and nobody disagreed. It was hard work keeping the ship moving, on top of which, Capt. Albern was finding one task after another for them to attend to.

The sea otter emerged from below and joined Skeet on the quarterdeck. ‘No wind today,’ he announced, stating the obvious.

Skeet smiled. The skipper always acknowledged him with an observation about the weather.

‘At least we’ve done most of the repairs while we’re not pitching about,’ he replied.

‘And I want them to stick at it,’ said the captain.

Skeet glanced at the weary crew. ‘They’re getting very tired, Skipper. Jobey’s complaining of a strained back.’

‘Glad to hear it! At least he’s back to his normal self. I don’t want anyone dwelling on the narrowness of our escape, and the remedy for that is a long day’s solid labour and a good night’s rest. How are the children faring?’

‘Tired, and complaining of sore fingers – they’ve worked hard on the topsail.’

‘Keep them at it Mr Skeet! The more exhausted they are the deeper they’ll sleep. We don’t want any nightmares about Laughing Jack and killer whales on this ship.’

Skeet wondered if he was now responsible for the children’s dreams. ‘Aye, aye! Skipper,’ he responded somewhat vaguely.

Capt. Albern’s strategy of keeping everyone hard at work was immediately thwarted when the dolphins surfaced alongside and the children ran to greet them. Merrie sprinted to the bow, searching for Noya, and waved with delight when she headed towards him.

‘Coming for a ride?’ she called.

Merrie was about to jump when Skeet grabbed his tail. He jumped anyway, but Skeet held firm and he was left unceremoniously dangling upside down before being hauled back on deck however much he kicked and squirmed.

‘Let me go! She’s waiting for me,’ he begged, but Misty’s mate was unyielding. To add to his fury, Chad lashed him to the rail.

‘They won’t let me,’ he shouted, almost in tears.

Noya looked disappointed. ‘What a shame! We could have had such fun,’ she called.

‘Don’t go! They can’t keep me tied up forever.’

‘I have to, we only called to say goodbye.’

‘Don’t go with them! Stay with us – with me.’

Noya shook her head. ‘Not a chance! My mother knows what I’m thinking the moment I think it. I’m glad you’re not hurt. We saw the guns firing.’

‘Please don’t go!’

‘Maybe we’ll meet again. I’ll look out for your ship. Goodbye Merrie,’ called Noya.

‘I’ll find you!’ shouted Merrie, straining at his bonds, but all he could see of his love was a swirl of water and the streak of her slender body. He blinked away bitter tears, thinking life was very cruel, and swearing never to speak to Skeet or Chad again.

Capt. Albern bade Adriel farewell. ‘If it’s not too late, will you thank the whales for us?’ he called.

‘I already have. They’re proud to have played a part. Everyone is rejoicing as far as the news has spread.’

‘And thank you for all your help. Will we see you again?’

‘We’re heading south now.’

‘Then, farewell!’

‘And we wish you a safe passage home,’ called Adriel.

The children and crew lined the rail to shout their good wishes as the dolphins turned south, swimming fast and leaping low over the waves. One lagged behind. She suddenly leaped high above the water, flashing in the sunlight as she twisted to look back at Merrie, before plunging in a column of spray. Then she, too, swam fast to catch up.

‘Plenty more dolphins in the sea,’ announced Chad cheerfully as he untied the harvest mouse. Merrie stalked off without a word. He thought it was the stupidest thing he had ever heard Chad say.

Everyone was occupied with their evening meal when The Cook poked his head from the galley holding an unclaimed plate and noticed Merrie standing alone at the bow.

‘Your dinner’s getting cold!’ he called.

‘Not hungry!’ shouted the harvest mouse, resolutely staring at the horizon.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ asked Ryan.

‘He wanted to swim with Noya,’ mumbled Max through a mouthful.

‘You need to get your strength up for tomorrow. You can’t avoid doing some sewing any longer,’ shouted Sassy.

Merrie marched through the midst of them without a word, and after reserving a special glare for Skeet and Chad, climbed to the sanctuary of the crowsnest. He scanned the empty ocean, and once thought he saw Noya swimming towards him, but it was no more than a wavelet glinting in the setting sun. He decided he would not be a sailor, but would make his home in a secluded cove. One day, Noya would come and every day they would play in the clear waters. He felt the ratlines shaking and turned his back on Truename.

‘It’s a lovely evening,’ said Truename, gazing up at the peaceful sky.

‘No it’s not! It’s a lousy evening,’ snapped the harvest mouse. Truename said nothing.

‘It’s so unfair!’ Merrie burst out. ‘If I’d been allowed to swim with Noya, maybe she would have stayed. Nobody cares how I feel.’

‘At least you have happy memories of swimming with her.’

‘What’s the good of a memory!’

‘You’d know if you didn’t have any,’ replied Truename bitterly.

Startled at the sharpness in Truename’s voice, Merrie faced him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I bet you have lots of happy memories of home before your nest was destroyed. Whatever happens to you, those good times will always be with you. You can live them over and over again, and no one can take them from you. It would be sad to spend a lifetime without happy memories.’

‘I had a wonderful time with my brothers and sisters when we were little, that I’ll never forget.’

‘I’ve nothing nice to remember before Ancell rescued me.’

‘That’s bad,’ admitted Merrie, and pondered as the last of the sun slipped into the sea. ‘Tell you what!’ he said, inspired, ‘I’ll get up early tomorrow and start on the sewing. Then I’ll ask if we can have a break to fish. We’ll see who can catch the most. That’ll be a happy memory for you!’

Truename grinned. ‘Especially if I catch a big one and all you get is a minnow! By the way, The Cook is keeping your dinner warm if you want to eat.’

‘I’m famished!’ said Merrie, and scampered down the ratlines.

The Cook regarded Truename sombrely while the harvest mouse ate. ‘And I suppose you’re going to say collecting Merrie from the crowsnest has made you hungry again,’ he said.

‘Just a little bit,’ chanced Truename.

The Cook sighed. ‘Don’t get indigestion,’ he said, and cutting a thick slice from a freshly baked loaf smothered it in strawberry jam.

Chapter 21

‘They’re not far distant now,’ announced Capt. Albern, sniffing the air appreciatively early one afternoon.

‘The westerlies?’ asked Thom, easing the helm a little to keep Misty moving in the variable puffs of wind that came her way.

‘We’ll pick them up within twenty-four hours,’ promised the captain.

Dawn revealed distant clumps of cloud tramping across the horizon, and Misty’s crew relaxed with a mixture of relief and cheerful anticipation.

‘There’s our wind,’ Pickle told Jobey, slapping him on the back.

‘And about time too!’ grumbled Jobey, but smiled nonetheless.

At midday, free of the calms at last, Misty heeled to a freshening breeze and plunged northward. Preparing for the blows of the North Atlantic, the crew set the few heavy weather sails still serviceable. The result was a patchwork of canvas, which Waff viewed uneasily, suspecting there would be more stitching to do before they reached home.

One night, the children were awoken by the sound of running feet on deck and listened to the shouts of the crew reducing sail as Misty was overtaken by a southwesterly gale. They climbed on deck in the morning to see ragged clouds racing above her masts and spray hiss across the ship as she buried her bow into grey breaking seas. An hour later the topsail ripped without warning, and they watched anxiously as the crew clung to the lurching yard to secure the thrashing canvas.

The gale left Misty in its wake the following morning. Cotton wool clouds chased across a blue sky and the sea sparkled in the sunshine. Capt. Albern studied a chart, and in a celebratory mood loped to the galley humming a cheerful tune.

‘No more than four days before we make landfall,’ he informed The Cook. ‘I assume we have plenty of food.’

The Cook peered into a steaming pot to mask a smile. He knew exactly what Misty’s master was angling for and wondered how long it would take him to come to the point.

‘Run out of some things,’ he grunted.

‘But we have the essentials?’

‘Depends on what you count as essential,’ parried The Cook, enjoying every moment.

Capt. Albern took a sudden interest in the galley ceiling. ‘For example, sweet things that will give the crew energy and keep them alert – there’s a lot of shipping in The Channel and we need to keep a sharp look out.’

‘Jam?’ suggested The Cook innocently. ‘We’ve got jam.’

The captain studied a row of ladles swinging on the wall. ‘I was thinking of things like, say, the treacle you loaded in South America. Lot of goodness in it you know.’

‘Without doubt,’ mumbled The Cook, breathing hard and trying to stifle his laughter.

‘A lot of nourishment,’ added the captain.

‘Indeed.’

‘Very nourishing.’

The Cook relented. ‘Then it’s just as well we have a jar left.’

‘Excellent!’ beamed the captain. ‘Better use it up right away. We don’t want the odd jar knocking about.’

‘Skipper, are you saying you would like treacle tart for dinner?’

‘Seeing as you mention it, I think that would be a very nice idea,’ agreed the sea otter, and wondering what The Cook found so unaccountably amusing, strolled back to his cabin.

The news of Misty’s imminent landfall soon spread throughout the ship, and the crew immediately placed bets on when they would first sight the coast. Skeet, who was barred from entering because he had access to the charts and the barometer, agreed to be stakeholder and to referee any dispute. Pickle was the most optimistic and Waff, gambling on the wind dropping, the least. Jobey had been the most pessimistic but had subsequently withdrawn his wager on the grounds that even if he was the winner, some calamity could sink them before he had the opportunity to collect his winnings.

Ancell remained on deck late that night, gazing at the stars he had known from birth twinkling a welcome, the Pole Star leading them home. He imagined Truegard up there somewhere, sailing his celestial ship through the night. He shivered a little in the chill of the air and was reminded that autumn was setting in. Soon the beech trees protecting his home from the icy blasts of winter would shed their leaves and he would be glad to snuggle into the warmth of his nest.

Restlessly lying awake below, the children had no such thoughts of home, and the closer Misty drew to her berth and everyone else’s home, the more their homelessness weighed on them. They had escaped the tyranny of Laughing Jack, and for all too brief a period had basked in the kindliness of Misty’s crew. For the first time in their lives they had laughed, and full of The Cook’s dinner had crawled into warm bunks. Now the prospect of once more shivering through long winter nights on empty stomachs loomed close, and increasingly they were reminded of the grim reality that faced them when they stepped ashore. At worst, Capt. Albern, believing it to be in their best interest, would hand them over to an orphanage, where they were likely to be separated. If so they would go on the run together, though where to find shelter and how to feed themselves, no one had a single idea.

‘If we had a ship of our own we could all grow rich trading precious cargoes,’ mused Truename.

‘Nice thought,’ said Ryan. ‘Except we don’t have a ship.’

They ate less heartily at mealtimes, but they ate, mindful that a good meal would soon be no more than a distant memory, and when the crew talked of the joys of homecoming and the friends and family they would hurry to greet, they said nothing. No one would be waiting at the quayside to welcome their return.

An uneasy quiet lay about the ship the morning Ancell climbed on deck hoping to catch his first glimpse of the Cornish coast. Misty was creeping blindly through the eerie silence of dense mist. The tops of her masts were lost in the murk and he could barely make out the shrouded forms of the crew stationed about the deck. Droplets of water ran from the yards and dripped from the peak of Capt. Albern’s cap.

He joined the muffled voices of Chips and Waff. Jobey suddenly struck the ship’s bell, making him jump.

‘It’s to warn other ships we’re around. It’s been all hands on deck keeping a lookout while you’ve been snoozing,’ said Chad, emerging out of the gloom.

Ancell stared about nervously. ‘Are there many?’

‘It only takes one, especially if it’s twice our size.’

‘When you can’t see it, but you can hear her crew talking you can start to worry,’ said Chips.

‘And if you can hear her bow wave and still can’t see her you can worry some more,’ added Waff.

‘It’s often foggy around these parts, but it’ll lift in time,’ said Chad reassuringly.

‘And maybe not,’ said Chips. ‘Not long ago a ship gilled about here for three days after a successful Atlantic crossing. Her skipper became impatient and took a chance. Straight on the rocks! All hands lost!’

‘And that story is true,’ said Waff.

Throughout the long morning the children huddled together silently, the fog merely adding to the joylessness of their return. The crew might worry about immediate dangers, but their thoughts were of a far more uncertain future.

Skeet joined them. ‘We’re in luck! The skipper reckons the sun will burn it off in an hour or two,’ he announced cheerfully, and was disappointed the good news was met with little interest.

‘And we’ll be home at last!’ he emphasised.

‘If you say so,’ said Sassy.

Capt. Albern was correct. Slowly shafts of lighter grey radiated through the gloom, sometimes blanketed out again yet mysteriously reappearing. The light strengthened and gleamed on the quiet sea. Then wondrously the rolling banks of mist dissolved to reveal the cliffs of Land’s End standing high on the horizon beneath the pale blue of the September afternoon.

The crew joined the children, everyone pointing out what they could see. Motionless white dots on a hill grew into grazing sheep, and a huddle of roofs became a fishing village where windows and the church weathervane glinted in the sun. Ancell sniffed the sweet smell of grasses and hedgerows, of new mown hay and wood smoke.

‘It all looks so peaceful,’ said Sassy wistfully.

Pickle drew a deep breath. ‘I can smell sausages!’ he announced. ‘Won’t be long before I have a plateful of my own.’

The aroma of the particularly evil tobacco Waff had secreted aboard in South America drifted down the line of sailors. Chad made an exaggerated cough.

‘I’m surprised any of us can smell anything living with that pipe,’ he complained, still annoyed that the sailmaker had claimed his wager, which the fog had enabled him to win by a large margin, and which everyone except Waff had argued should have rendered all bets void. However Skeet had ruled in Waff’s favour.

‘How about me looking after it for you until we make port?’ offered Chips.

Waff glared at the carpenter and clenched the pipe between his teeth all the tighter.

‘You’d look so much better without it,’ suggested Chantal.

Waff glanced at her suspiciously, but nonetheless removed it from his mouth.

‘You look ten years younger!’ agreed Ruth.

‘I bet you don’t dare throw it away,’ challenged Sassy.

Waff sensed a net was closing about him.

‘We’ve yet to pay a tribute to Neptune for a safe voyage. Make him a gift of it,’ urged Pickle.

‘What! That stinking pipe! He’ll wreck us!’ protested Jobey.

‘It’s the thought that counts,’ said Chad with a smirk.

‘Better if you gave him your winnings,’ argued Jobey.

‘That would be right and proper,’ said Tam.

‘A tribute must be paid,’ said Thom.

Waff wondered how a pleasant afternoon could go so disastrously wrong. Now his winnings as well as his pipe were at stake.

‘Very well!’ he agreed. ‘The pipe goes after dinner tomorrow.’

‘We’ll be berthed by then!’ retorted Chad.

‘After dinner tonight then.’

‘Now!’ shouted everyone.

The ceremony was performed with proper decorum. Chad piped a tune, and Pickle made a speech of thanks to Neptune. There was a tense wait. Then Waff hurled the pipe high. It glowed defiantly before falling with an angry hiss into Misty’s wake. Skeet observed the polecat to be surprisingly at ease.

‘You’ve got a spare, haven’t you,’ he accused the sailmaker. Waff winked and disappeared below.

A southerly breeze set in to see Misty home, but she sailed wearily, and throughout the night managed only a few miles against the ebb of the English Channel. However the following morning the flood tide picked her up and the coast slipped by more quickly. At noon, Skeet hoisted a long line of flags to Misty’s topgallant yard, and Capt. Albern dipped her ensign three times.

‘What’s that for?’ asked Truename.

Skeet pointed ashore. ‘You see that field sloping down to the water’s edge with an orchard and the whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof? The skipper’s house – he’s letting Mrs Albern know we’re back. She often keeps a lookout.’

Truename looked longingly. ‘What a lovely place to come home to,’ he murmured.

‘So Chad says. He stayed there briefly on one of the many occasions his landlady threw him out. However, I gather he quickly persuaded Miss Strait to take him back when he discovered Mrs Albern was a pillar of the community and soon had him involved in all her good works about the village.’

‘If I wasn’t on a ship that’s where I’d like to live,’ said Truename with a sigh.

Chapter 22

Misty turned from the sea into the long reach of the harbour and the haven of her berth. Capt. Albern took the helm, Chad prepared the mooring lines and the crew manned the yards, alert for Skeet to bellow the captain’s orders. Ancell watched a tug draw alongside and heard the sea otter dismiss the need for a tow. Skeet grinned, delighted that his skipper was not above showing off a little by berthing Misty under sail.

The cannons guarding the harbour entrance suddenly fired a thunderous salvo and the tug blew its whistle. Ancell spun round to see dockside cranes dipping in respect and cheering crowds waving flags thronging the quayside. He waved back a little uncertainly, wondering how the news of their triumphant return had spread so fast. Capt. Albern read his thoughts and shook with laughter.

‘It’s not for us,’ he called. ‘Look astern! She’s just completed her maiden voyage.’

Ancell turned to see a magnificent one hundred-gun ship, proudly towed by two self-important tugs, slipping quietly through the water, three decks of her cannons gleaming in the sunshine. Her crew, haughtily lining the deck high above Misty, stared down on the little ship, slowed by green weed streaming from her hull, rust streaked and barnacle encrusted, battered and patched, her ragged ensign still flying proudly. The children waved, but received no friendly greeting in return.

Slowly turning into the wind and just creeping forward over the last of the flood tide, Misty edged gently to her berth. The yards were braced, and the sails furled with precision. No one fumbled or made a mistake. Dockside workers hurried to catch the mooring lines and at last she rested secure, her long journey at an end.

‘Ahoy there!’ called a cheerful voice as a plump sea otter, weighed down by two large baskets, bustled along the quay. Chad rushed to her aid.

‘On your best behaviour Chad? Now that’s a surprise!’ said Mrs Albern.

Chad looked hurt. ‘Ma’am, I’m always on my best behaviour.’

Mrs Albern snorted. ‘A likely story!’ she said.

She pointed to the baskets. ‘All picked this morning,’ she called to the crew. ‘I thought you could do with some fresh fruit after such a long time at sea.’

The crew gathered round, respectfully murmuring their thanks.

‘And who might you be?’ Mrs Albern questioned the children, who were hovering a little apart, unsure if they were included.

‘We had been kidnapped by pirates, and Capt. Albern and his crew rescued us,’ explained Sassy.

Mrs Albern immediately picked up the baskets from under the noses of the crew and invited them to choose the best. ‘You poor dears!’ she said. ‘You must be pleased to be home again.’

‘May I take an apple and a pear?’ asked Ryan.

‘Of course!’ replied Mrs Albern. ‘Take all you wish. Children first, I say.’

Ryan selected two of the largest and stuffed them in his pocket. ‘If you don’t mind I’d like to keep them for later,’ he said.

Mrs Albern frowned. ‘But surely your mother will welcome you home with a celebratory meal? If you were my child I’d be preparing a banquet.’

Sassy took a chance. ‘We don’t have any parents and we don’t have a home.’

Mrs Albern bristled. ‘Nowhere to go? Disgraceful! Are you going to beg in the streets and make a nuisance of yourselves?’

‘Certainly not!’ said Max quickly. ‘We’ve plans.’

‘Plans for getting up to no good, no doubt. I’ll soon see about that!’ retorted Mrs Albern. ‘Where’s the captain?’ she demanded, and without waiting for a reply, marched below.

‘That didn’t go down too well,’ whispered Ruth.

‘Maybe we should just go now,’ said Max.

‘But I haven’t said goodbye to Ancell,’ said Truename.

‘I think we should risk waiting,’ said Sassy.

‘But if there’s any mention of orphanages or workhouses, we run,’ said Chantal.

Capt. Albern appeared at the top of the companionway, looking a little bemused, as if he had been picked up by a whirlwind, tossed around for some minutes and set back on earth still wondering quite what had hit him. He approached the children warily and cleared his throat.

‘Mrs Albern has informed me you will all be living with us,’ he said. ‘That is if you would like to of course,’ he added.

Mrs Albern pushed in front of him. ‘I won’t hear of anything else. We’ve lots of room now my little ones have moved on, and every house needs children. The more the merrier, I say. Is that not so Roscoe?’

Capt. Albern smiled. ‘If you say so my dear,’ he replied.

The children stared in amazement. ‘Do you really mean it?’ asked Sassy, unable to believe their good fortune.

‘Of course! Nothing would please the captain and me more,’ replied Mrs Albern.

Tears streamed down Chantal’s cheeks. ‘Thank you! Thank you!’ she sobbed.

Mrs Albern embraced her tightly. ‘No more tears for you,’ she murmured, and gave them all a firm hug in turn, at the same time informing them they were to come the very next day. There was much to be done and no time to lose. For a start, they all needed a good bath, she would have plenty of hot water ready. They would attend the village school. The headmistress was a good friend and an excellent teacher. The orchard fruits were waiting to be picked. Logs needed to be cut, and chestnuts gathered for roasting by winter fires. They must tell her their favourite dishes. She would show them the best places in the cove to fish. There was nothing like a fresh fish supper.

‘I hope you’ve been feeding them properly,’ she told The Cook as she clambered ashore. ‘And I hope you haven’t been teaching them bad habits,’ she called to Chad, and hurried along the quay before either of them could reply. She turned, a little out of breath, and waved. ‘Tomorrow, as soon as you can,’ she called to the children. ‘And tell that husband of mine not to waste time fiddling about with that old boat of his.’

‘She’s lovely!’ said Chantal.

‘Are you sure you don’t mind? Taking us all in just like that?’ Ruth asked Capt. Albern.

‘You’ve done so much for us already we’d quite understand if you had second thoughts,’ added Ryan.

Capt. Albern smiled. ‘You will all be very welcome. Mrs A will be in her element. She loves a full house. Just remember she’s the captain ashore.’

At the end of a voyage, Capt. Albern traditionally treated The Cook to a meal ashore to thank him for all the meals he had prepared at sea. Traditionally, too, the crew invited themselves along.

It was gala day in town and brightly coloured stalls lined the narrow streets crisscrossed with fluttering bunting. Flower decked carts paraded to the applause of crowds of revellers, and a man on stilts threw sweets to scrambling children. Swept along by the good-natured throng, Misty’s crew followed the town band, which was playing a stirring march, and Ancell found himself falling into step with the beat of the drum.

Chad commandeered the back room of an inviting looking tavern, where they pushed tables together and ordered the very best ale and food the landlord could provide. The children ate hungrily, suddenly regaining their appetites. Capt. Albern watched with a mixture of pleasure and alarm.

‘They’ll eat you out of house and home,’ Skeet observed cheerfully.

The sea otter smiled. ‘Mrs A loves cooking. And she’s as good a cook as Miss Strait,’ he informed Chad. ‘I hope you remember her house rules – dirty clothes to be put in the linen basket was one I recall.’

That started it.

‘Would you believe it!’ guffawed Doc. ‘A domesticated rat!’

‘Do you have to be in by nine in the evening?’ jeered Pickle.

‘Does she take you shopping?’ asked Skeet.

‘I bet she’s got a leash with your name on it,’ sniggered Jobey.

Chad sat unperturbed. ‘And a breakfast of bacon and egg and fresh coffee every morning,’ he answered.

Skeet commenced the toasts with one to the skipper and led a rousing three cheers. Capt. Albern congratulated everyone on a successful voyage, and invited them all to raise their glasses to The Cook.

‘We can’t just say, “The Cook”. It doesn’t sound right. Tell us your proper name,’ demanded Sassy.

‘It wouldn’t surprise me if you got mixed up at birth and got called Penelope,’ chortled Chad.

The Cook glared round the table. Capt. Albern sensed danger, but too late shot him a warning glance.

‘If you must know, I have three names, which is more than any of you!’ stated The Cook with an air of superiority.

‘We won’t laugh if you tell us what they are,’ promised Chad.

‘Perhaps another time,’ interrupted Capt. Albern urgently, but The Cook was defiant.

‘Lancelot Hackney Marsh,’ he announced.

There was a brief silence before the giggles started. Capt. Albern winced as they spread until the whole table was convulsed with laughter.

‘Hackney Marsh aren’t names! It’s a place!’ spluttered Chad.

‘I was found on Hackney Marsh, so they’re perfectly logical names,’ retorted The Cook.

‘What about Lancelot?’

‘I chose that.’

‘But Lancelot was a handsome knight!’ sniggered Chips.

‘Sir Lancelot!’ corrected Waff.

‘If we’d have known, we’d have bowed before meals,’ Pickle mocked.

‘I think Lancelot is a lovely name,’ said Ruth.

‘You’ll always be our knight in shining armour,’ added Chantal, rising to her feet and giving him a kiss. The Cook played with his tankard and turned very pink.

Jobey stood up, suddenly serious, and raised his glass.

‘To Sir Lancelot!’ he said. ‘I have just enjoyed a very fine meal, but I assure you nothing will ever go down as well as that mug of tea you managed to brew during the storm.’

‘Well spoken,’ said Tam and Thom, and every one of the crew agreed.

The last of the meal passed quietly. Nobody complained when Waff lit his reserve pipe, which at least burned with less ferocity, while they reminisced about the voyage. They fell silent when Capt. Albern rose to his feet.

‘Chips has something to show us,’ he said.

Chips opened a canvas bag and lifted a beautiful carving of Misty under full sail surmounted by a simple cross, and inscribed,

“In memory of Truegard.
Never will there be a finer First Mate”.

Everyone stood.

‘To Truegard,’ said Capt. Albern, holding his glass firmly, but there was a catch in his voice.

‘To Truegard,’ said everyone, and nobody sat until the captain had resumed his seat.

‘I wonder where he’d like his memorial to be?’ said Skeet.

Tam pointed through the window. ‘Up there, high on the hills.’

‘Facing the sea,’ said Thom. And so it was decided.

They wandered back to Misty in twos and threes, and Chad bought Chips a new bowler – the carpenter insisting one several sizes too small suited him best. Ancell followed last, a little disappointed he had not received a toast, especially as Doc had – for somehow managing not to fall overboard. But limping along behind he felt above all an overwhelming thankfulness that the children were safe at last. His quest was over. He wondered about the following day when they would climb into the hills to set Truegard’s memorial in place. He hoped they would find somewhere Truegard would like, a place that lifted the heart, as the red squirrel had so often lifted his. He stepped on board, and was sitting in his cabin rubbing his aching leg, when Sassy poked her head round the door. Chantal, Max, Ruth and Ryan trooped in, followed by Truename. Thrust to the front, Truename held out a parcel tied with a ribbon.

‘It’s to thank you for coming to find us,’ he said.

‘It’s not much, but we wanted to give you something,’ said Ryan.

‘We chose the best,’ said Ruth and Sassy.

‘And we hope you enjoy them,’ said Max.

Ancell fumbled with the wrapping paper. Inside was an assortment of nuts and dried fruits.

‘For you to nibble on your way home,’ said Chantal.

Ancell embraced them all, his heart too full to speak. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day.

Chapter 23

They rose early. Cloud hung low above the Sunday morning quiet of the town as they filed through the empty streets, led by Chips carrying Truegard’s memorial. Leaving the last of the houses behind, they climbed a narrow lane, where birds-foot-clover lined the verge and the intense blue of chalk milkwort crowded the hedgerows. Climbing a style, they crossed a field of stubble still smelling of the harvest, and stepped onto the springy turf of the open hillside. Climbing higher, they paused to look down on the port, and beyond, the misty sea merging into the grey of the sky. Above them a beech wood marked the top of the hill, and at their feet Ancell noticed clumps of cowslips. Their blooms were over, but in the spring, they would again adorn the hillside with their delicate yellow flowers.

Capt. Albern stood for a while, and satisfied, nodded to Chips. The crew set the memorial firmly in the ground, taking care it faced the sea, and built a cairn of chalk stone at its foot. Heads bowed, they stood in a circle. Capt. Albern removed his cap and the children stood silently while captain and crew remembered the first mate they had loved so well. Weak rays of sunshine reflecting on the white of the cairn grew stronger and Ancell looked up to see the clouds part, and warmed by the sun, a lark rising high, singing its song of praise. They watched it climb, shielding their eyes against the strengthening light that turned the sea a sparkling blue.

‘It’s a good place, Skipper,’ said Skeet.

Capt. Albern looked to horizons far beyond the sea.

‘A good place, Mr Skeet,’ he agreed.

Church bells pealed as they wound down the hill. Ancell looked back. He, too, thought it was a good place.

Misty’s deck was soon cluttered with the sailors’ sea bags as her crew and the children bid each other farewell. Capt. Albern searched for a piece of music to hum on the stagecoach, and Truename, clasping his nameplate, gave Ancell a long hug.

Tam and Thom were the first to leave, accompanied by Merrie, who had at first been unsure whether to join the two sailors he so admired or to enjoy lounging about Misty, well fed by The Cook. He quickly made up his mind when The Cook informed him that keeping watch on Misty included a solid day’s chores, including rubbing down rust. Ancell watched the two field mice stroll along the quay, sea bags slung over their shoulders, the harvest mouse between them, aping the easy rolling gait of his heroes with an exaggerated swagger.

Chips and Waff followed, the carpenter chattering while the sailmaker puffed little clouds of smoke in time to his step. As always, the polecat’s family would greet them excitedly and Waff’s children would listen wide-eyed while Chips related their adventures. Doc lugged his baggage ashore, announcing he was to write an account of Misty’s voyage and they would all be recorded in the annals of seafaring, before tripping over a mooring line. Pickle and Jobey picked him up and agreed to carry his trunk on the promise of a drink – but not before walking backwards down the gangplank making sweeping bows in the direction of The Cook.

‘Dreaming again!’ chided Chad, joining Ancell at the rail.

Ancell shrugged. ‘Just watching.’

‘Well, you watch yourself! Mind you go straight home, and try not to get lost. And if you dream up any more missions just make sure you avoid jungles and snakes.’

Skeet sprang between them, in a hurry to secure a room at Miss Strait’s, after which he and Chad were going out on the town.

‘Come with us. Miss Strait will have a room for you,’ Chad invited Ancell.

Ancell hesitated, but shook his head. He was reluctant to say goodbye to the rat, but he knew town life was not for him.

‘You could stay with me awhile,’ he offered.

‘What!’ retorted Chad. ‘In some dank hedgerow? Anyway, fine company you’d make sleeping all winter. The prospect of Miss Strait’s cooking attracts rather more than living with a snoring bunch of prickles.’

Ancell smiled. ‘Well, you look after yourself,’ he said.

‘You too,’ said Chad, and they embraced warmly.

‘There’s one thing you could usefully do,’ called the rat as he and the stoat stepped ashore.

‘And what would that be?’

‘How many spines have you got?’

‘About six thousand – why?’

‘Instead of snoozing all winter you should pull some of them out and weave yourself a tail. It would improve your appearance no end and might stop you falling over,’ giggled Chad.

‘You just beware of anacondas. I’m told they’ll swim a long way for a mouthful sized rodent!’ shouted Ancell.

Chad laughed. ‘And you beware of badgers dressed up as anteaters!’

Ancell watched the rat, who had twice risked his life for him and would do so again without a moment’s thought, walk away, doing his best to keep up with the bounding Skeet.

‘Remember to do what Miss Strait tells you!’ he yelled, but the bosun was already out of earshot.

Capt. Albern appeared on deck, and Ancell falteringly said good-bye. There was so much he wished to say, but the words would not come.

‘Thank you,’ he blurted. ‘I only wish Truegard…’

Capt. Albern took him by the shoulders. The grip was as resolute as ever.

‘I’m glad you followed your dream,’ said the sea otter.

‘Please hurry up, Skipper! We’ll miss the coach,’ begged Sassy from the quayside where the children were waiting impatiently. The captain squared his shoulders and taking a long look round his beloved ship, stepped ashore. Ancell did not take his eyes from the hump-backed otter, harried along by the children, until they turned a corner and were gone.

The fast ebbing tide settled Misty on the mud. Her deck, bereft of the children’s laughter and the shouts of the sailors, lay at an uncomfortable angle, empty and abandoned, her proud ensign no longer fluttering at her stern. Ancell realised he was the last to leave, but there was no hurry, no voices called him now. He supposed he should start for what had once been his home – his nest would need re-building and winter was not far distant. Not noticing The Cook climbing from the companionway, he gave the smooth varnished spokes of Misty’s wheel a pat of farewell.

‘She steers better when she’s not aground – for some anyway!’ said The Cook with a grin.

Ancell smiled as they both recalled the moment they had first met.

‘Bacon sandwich before you go?’ offered The Cook.

Ancell hesitated, but shook his head, and they embraced.

‘You look after that leg of yours,’ said The Cook.

Ancell stepped ashore and turned to wave, but The Cook had already disappeared below.

He headed north, climbing the road they had taken that morning. Making for the hilltop, he climbed to Truegard’s memorial and stood for a while, taking in the view. Not a leaf or blade of grass stirred in the stillness of the day. Below him, the sea rested in the afternoon sun, and above, the beech wood stood silent in the quiet air. With a skip of joy his heart told him this was where he would make his home, a new home high on the hill beneath the trees, and close by Truegard where the yellow cowslips grew.

The first of the autumn gales came early that year. Through the night the wind shivers Misty’s rigging and slaps wavelets against her hull, lulling The Cook to sleep. It sighs through the trees at the top of the hill and scatters leaves about Ancell’s nest. He slumbers, but he hears the wind and curls a little tighter. The gale moans down the chimney of Capt. Albern’s cottage and startles the glowing embers of the fire into flame. The sea otter puts aside the score of a symphony and listens. Gusts shake the curtains of the children’s bedrooms, but full of supper they sleep soundly. In the topmost room, where Truename has nailed his nameplate to the door, the wind rattles the window-panes, and the boy who had once curled in terror, stirs and stretches, a smile playing on his lips as he dreams of sailing a ship of his own across the wide rolling seas.

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