Tam rowed Truegard and The Cook shoreward – Truegard to establish friendly relations with the islanders, and The Cook to see what fresh produce might be available.
‘I’m sure they’ll be welcoming, but stay here,’ ordered Truegard, as the gig grounded gently on the sand. ‘If there’s any sign of trouble get yourselves back on board – if necessary without me.’
Tam unshipped the oars and watched the first mate cross the deserted beach. He had nearly reached the huts when a powerfully built grey squirrel emerged from the jungle. At his signal, a group of rats, every one of them double the weight of Chad, quietly rose from the undergrowth. Tam fidgeted, undecided whether to obey orders or go in support of Truegard, who, tall though he was, looked slight and vulnerable compared to the island animals.
The grey squirrel stepped forward, taking careful measure of the red squirrel.
‘Welcome to Careless Island,’ he said.
Truegard relaxed and beckoned Tam and The Cook.
‘Thank you, Sir,’ he replied. ‘ My name is Truegard, first mate of “Misty Dawn” you see there in the bay. We ask permission to take on fresh water and provisions, though we have little to offer in return.’
The grey squirrel eyed Misty. ‘Water and food we have in plenty. Your presence will be sufficient payment. My name is Larren and I rule here.’ He nodded a welcome to Tam, but ignored The Cook with a flicker of distaste.
Truegard would have preferred to load the water before nightfall, but Larren insisted work should wait for the following day. First, the captain and the entire crew were to dine with him that evening – the islanders would be insulted if the sailors declined. His request frustrated, Truegard asked that at least he be shown the path to the waterfall to assess the difficulty of rolling the casks to the ship.
Larren shrugged and led the way. Crowding about the sailors, the silent rats separated The Cook from Truegard and Tam as they climbed the narrow track. The Cook, following immediately behind the long striding grey squirrel, struggled to keep up, the rats jostling and sniggering about him. One, aping his shambling gait, tripped him, causing him to stumble into Larren, who twisted away in disgust. Trembling with anger, the grey squirrel summoned a large rat to his side.
‘Keep that miserable cripple away from me,’ he hissed.
The waterfall splashed into a crystal clear pool. The Cook found his way barred as Truegard and Tam stepped forward to drink.
‘As sweet as I’ve ever tasted,’ announced Truegard.
‘Yours for the taking tomorrow,’ said Larren.
Waiting anxiously on board, the crew greeted Truegard’s report of an invitation to dinner as well as a supply of fresh water and food with excitement. Capt. Albern was inclined to stay on board his ship, but accepted Truegard’s argument that to do so could offend their hosts. He was adamant, however, that Misty should not be left unattended, irrespective of whether the entire crew were expected. Thom volunteered to keep watch, knowing that Tam would return with a selection of the choicest dishes for her.
‘So it’s called Careless Island,’ said Capt. Albern.
Truegard nodded. ‘So they say, and they certainly seem to have no cares.’
‘More like careless to land there. I’m staying on board,’ retorted The Cook.
‘But we were all made welcome,’ protested Truegard.
‘It’s no place for me,’ said The Cook, and nothing Truegard said could persuade him otherwise.
The launch was lowered in the last of the short tropical twilight, and the island lay in darkness by the time they rowed ashore. On the beach the leaping flames of a fire illuminated shadowy figures loading tables with platters of food. Ancell thought it appropriate to seat himself next to the island’s leader, intending to tell him of the wind he had summoned to carry Misty to his shore. But as Larren ignored him in favour of questioning Capt. Albern about his ship and crew, he satisfied himself by filling his stomach. The drink he thought especially good, and the more he drank the more satisfactory everything became. He caught Chad’s warning eye and sloppily raised his goblet to him.
Chad surveyed the table. Tam was holding his head, and Skeet was not his normal cheerful self. Chips had stopped chattering and Waff was having difficulty lighting his pipe; Merrie was fast asleep and Pickle and Jobey dozing. He counted the number of rats, who were all in good spirits. There were ten, every one of them in good condition, and too many to fight. He also noticed there was no sign of Doc, and started to his feet. The rats on either side of him held him back.
‘Too early to leave,’ one said.
‘Have some more wine,’ suggested the other.
‘Just stretching,’ said Chad, and threw back his drink. The rats watched approvingly and refilled his cup.
‘Your good health!’ said Chad, and drained that too.
Larren, too, kept a watchful eye on Misty’s crew as he recounted to Capt. Albern how the islanders had been shipwrecked due to the incompetence of the first mate. Both the first mate and the captain had been lost overboard, and he and the crew had been lucky to survive. As second mate, he had assumed command of the castaways and established order. They had salvaged what they could, and built the huts from what remained of the ship’s timbers. Under his stewardship they enjoyed a comfortable life and had no wish to leave their island home.
‘As you see, we are content here,’ he concluded. He raised his voice.
‘I have been telling the captain what a pleasant place this is.’
Capt. Albern glanced around the grinning, nodding rats, and pondered whether it was too soon to order his crew back on board without appearing discourteous. He wanted the peace of his cabin to think through Larren’s story.
Doc had been particularly eager to go ashore to explore, even producing a butterfly net from his cavernous trunk with which he intended to hunt moths. As soon as they had landed he had wandered away in the dark, found a path into the trees and was quickly lost. He followed several tracks that led him deeper into the jungle, and eventually stumbled into a small clearing, where a pair of makeshift wooden crosses that bore no names marked two overgrown graves. He stood for a moment shaking his head sadly, then, catching the sound of distant voices, blundered back to the beach where he burst from the jungle into the party.
‘I’ve found the graves of a couple of unfortunate souls,’ he announced. ‘Who are they?’
Larren stiffened and the rats stopped eating.
‘The ship’s captain and first mate,’ said a rat, then bit his lip and fell silent.
‘Though they were lost overboard, we managed to retrieve their bodies,’ explained Larren quickly.
A rat spoke quietly in the grey squirrel’s ear. Larren made a brief apology and strode to a hut where two of the largest rats were waiting. A furious whispered argument ensued.
‘I told you to watch everybody, yet you allow a bumbling owl to wander about and find those graves,’ hissed Larren.
‘Doesn’t matter! We say we take the ship now,’ replied a rat.
Larren thought fast. They would seize the ship anyway, but if the owl’s discovery had aroused Capt. Albern’s suspicions, a new and better opportunity lay open to him.
‘We wait until tomorrow,’ he ordered. ‘They’ll need most of the crew to fetch the water. Once they’re out of the way we’ll take the ship – trust me!’
‘And if we don’t!’ retorted the rat.
Larren eyed him coldly. ‘You have no choice. You are a mutineer. We are all mutineers and we are bound together whether you like it or not.’
‘Mutineers, but not murderers! You killed the captain and the first mate, not us,’ growled the second rat. Larren turned on him, trembling with rage.
‘If I hang, I swear you’ll hang with me,’ he snarled. ‘We do as I say. We act tomorrow.’
*
On board Misty, The Cook relaxed in Capt. Albern’s deck chair, enjoying the peace of the balmy night.
‘I wish you’d stop marching about,’ he complained. Thom stopped pacing the deck and stared at the shore.
‘Tam’s ill and wants to get back on board.’
‘Probably those islanders’ lousy food,’ suggested The Cook, knowing Thom sensed how her brother felt.
‘I’m going ashore to pick him up.’
‘The skipper won’t be pleased; you’re meant to be on watch.’
‘Just help me lower the gig.’
Thom rowed through the moonlit night and pulled the boat ashore close by the launch. In the glow of the fire she saw her brother half slumped at the table, and without a word helped him to his feet.
Larren tensed. ‘Are there any more of your crew on board?’ he questioned Capt. Albern. The sea otter rose to his feet.
‘I think it’s time we got some sleep. Thank you for a very fine meal,’ he answered.
‘Till tomorrow then,’ said Larren. ‘Fresh provisions and water tomorrow.’
Misty’s crew stumbled wearily for the boats, wishing only to tumble into their bunks.
‘I came ashore because Tam felt bad,’ Thom explained.
‘Glad you did. The sooner we get on board the better,’ replied Capt. Albern.
‘Must be the drink,’ said Skeet, ‘and I only had a few sips. I don’t know how you can stand up, Chad, the way you were knocking it back.’
‘Only to show them they couldn’t put me under the table,’ grunted the bosun.
With an effort they dragged the launch into the water.
‘Where’s Ancell?’ asked Capt. Albern.
‘That stupid hedgehog!’ exclaimed Chad. ‘Says he’s on a mission and he can’t even find his way across a beach. I’ll get him.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Truegard.
Capt. Albern glanced at the first mate, who was clearly in no condition to help anyone.
‘You’re to get in the launch,’ he ordered. ‘Thom, you’re to wait with the gig for Chad. No more than five minutes, Chad. If you can’t find him or any trouble seems likely, you’re to come aboard.’
Chad found Ancell still sprawled across the table, watched by two rats. Ancell raised an arm in careless greeting.
‘Hello Chad! Come and join us.’
‘Get up! We’re going on board.’
‘I think I’ll stay here.’
‘You’ll come aboard now! Captain’s orders.’
‘I’m comfortable here. Stop bossing me about, and have a drink,’ mumbled Ancell, fumbling for his goblet. ‘Did I ever tell you about a dream I once had?’ he asked the two rats. Chad sighed, yanked the hedgehog to his feet and punched him hard in the stomach. Ancell folded with a gasp and Chad hoisted him onto his shoulder. The rats jumped to their feet and Chad wondered whether he would have to fight.
‘Good night, gentlemen!’ he growled, showing his teeth, and started for the gig. The rats hesitated, then stood aside, but followed a few paces behind. Chad noticed other rats slowly closing in on him. He wondered if he could make the gig if he ran, but he was encumbered with the weight of Ancell. He took a chance and span round.
‘Thank you for a lovely dinner,’ he called. ‘See you all in the morning.’
The rats paused and stood uncertainly.
‘In the morning,’ said one eventually.
‘Bright and early,’ confirmed Chad, and strode for the boat.
Never had Capt. Albern been so relieved to step on board Misty. He surveyed his officers and crew, all of whom, with the exception of The Cook, Thom and Chad, were fighting the lethargy he felt.
The Cook dispensed mugs of strong tea. ‘Serves you right for being greedy,’ he told Jobey, who was slumped against a hatch, holding his head.
‘The food was all right. It’s those rats I worry about,’ said Chad. ‘We’re outnumbered if it comes to a fight.’
‘We were made welcome. Nobody’s thinking of fighting,’ said Truegard.
‘Welcome or not, they’re as evil a pack as I’ve ever seen,’ retorted Chad.
Capt. Albern listened to Truegard and he listened to Chad. He pondered Larren’s account of the captain and first mate lost overboard, and he considered the fresh supplies on hand the following day. Then he listened to Misty tugging at her anchor chain, pleading to sail, and made up his mind.
‘Gentlemen! We sail immediately! I was mistaken to land here, and I apologise for my bad judgement.’ Truegard looked surprised and the crew groaned.
‘Can’t we sleep first?’ wailed Jobey.
‘If the skipper says we’re sailing, we sail. Let’s get to it,’ answered Truegard.
The crew laboured in a daze of fatigue. Only Chad and Thom had the energy to do much of the work, and Truegard, Skeet, The Cook and the captain had to lend their weight to the capstan to raise anchor. Slumbering on his bunk, where Chad had unceremoniously dumped him, Ancell half woke. He wondered vaguely what the commotion on deck was about, decided he did not care, and closed his eyes.
Larren listened to the clank of the anchor chain, and smiling, quickly stole through the dark to the makeshift fishing raft the islanders had built from the wrecked ship’s timbers.
‘So, Capt. Albern, as I suspected, you don’t trust me,’ he murmured, as he pushed off from the shore. ‘And rightly so, for tomorrow I would have seized your ship. But all the better for me you flee in the night.’
He heard the rats run from the huts, shouting in angry confusion at Misty’s sudden departure, and glancing back, laughed. ‘Farewell my mutinous friends,’ he muttered. ‘With you as my crew, how long before one of you betrayed me? For money perhaps? Or on your wretched deathbed to save your soul? Enjoy your island paradise, for Larren will not return to rescue you.’