Crown of the Cowibbean (9 page)

Dakota crept toward the Kingfish, smacking his lips. “That's right, I'm a hu'man! And I'm hungry for a big…baked…catfish!”

Backing up in fear, the hefty Kingfish began to slip and slide on the temple's smooth, flat top. His huge new size was difficult to balance on top of the temple. He stumbled and tumbled, falling down, down, down…right into the mouth of the spider crab. The giant crab happily swallowed the king-sized Kingfish, crown and all.

The stunned pirates looked up at Dakota, standing at the top of the temple.

“Is that a hu'man?” they shrieked. “Run! He'll boil us! He'll fry us! He'll eat us with butter!” Shellfish scattered into the water, swimming away in every direction without looking back. The spider crab let out a monstrous BUUUURRRRRRRPPP! Then he disappeared below the waves, and all was quiet.

Marco flapped up to the top of the temple. Dakota hadn't put his mask back on yet. He hoped Marco and Ribeye would not see him as a monster.

“I guess the Kingfish got too big for his own good,” Marco said. He quoted the last line of the poem, “‘
Those who bring ruin will earn it as well.
' That pirate brought this on himself.”

Marco looked at Dakota's worried hu'man face. He picked up Dakota's cow mask and handed it back to him. “As I said before, little one…I have seen many horrific monsters. But you are not one of them.”

“Please don't tell,” Dakota whispered. “I don't want to be kicked off the island yet.”

Marco smiled, “Don't worry, little one. This is a story no one would believe!”

They all gazed down at the spot where the spider crab had disappeared. “The crown is gone,” Marco moaned. “After all this time, all this way…I would very much liked to have just held it.”

“No one was supposed to have it,” Chuck said.

“I suppose,” Marco sighed. “It was the spider crab's job to guard the crown. Now he gets to do that forever.” He closed the clamshell's lid. “Come, little ones. If we set sail now, we can be back in Bermooda by sundown.”

Chuck and Dakota shared a puzzled look. “Really? All that way by sundown?”

“
Certamente
!” Marco smiled. “We'll just go in a
straight line.
”

12

SOME TREASURE HUNT

“So…you fought a whole army of shellfish by yourself?”

The four weary travelers were back home on Bermooda. It had been a whole week since they returned from their voyage. Marco was in his regular spot at the Leaky Tiki. As promised, Chuck had returned Dakota's bandana to its rightful place on the tiki's head.

“Not just a crew,” Marco said, waving his wings in the air. “A brigade! An army! A legion of savage shellfish, armed to the gills and led by their pirate king—an enormous, ferocious catfish as tall as the ceiling!”

Chuck and Dakota listened from a nearby table. They didn't join the crowd. After all, they'd already had front-row seats to this story. The plucky chicken's audience continued to grill him with questions.

“So where is this Coral Crown? Do you have it?” asked a tall reddish cow at the front of the crowd.

“Haven't you been listening?” Marco demanded. “It disappeared with the mammoth spider crab, of course!”

“Oh, of course,” chuckled a plump cow in a straw hat. “The one as big as your ship.”

“Even bigger than my ship!” Marco said.

“Uh-huh. So is this before or after you met the…” the plump cow paused and snickered, “…queen of the fish cows?”

“Sea cows,” Marco corrected him. “And it was after, at Spidercrab Rock!”

“Oh, that's right. The invisible island,” another cow said with a guffaw.

“Okay, what about that magic flute you were talking about?” came a voice from the back of the crowd. “Come on, Marco…play us a magic tune!” The whole circle of cows burst into laughter.

“You don't believe me?” Marco clucked angrily, ruffling his feathers. “It is all true! Tell them, Ribeye!”

The surly Ribeye said nothing, but simply addressed the room with his one good eye and nodded his head in agreement with Marco. No one wanted to argue with Ribeye, but no one really seemed to believe Marco, either. They all went back to their tables, mumbling and rolling their eyes.

“Wait! Come back!” Marco pleaded. “
Amici
Miei
! My friends! I'm just getting to the good part!” But it was no use. Story time was over.

With his feathers ruffled, Marco stormed out of the Tiki and back to the
Swashclucker
. Chuck and Dakota followed not too far behind. They found Marco sulking in his cabin, holding the old spyglass.

“It's okay, Marco,” Chuck put a hoof on Marco's shoulder. “We know you're telling the truth this time.”

Marco picked his head up. “What do you mean, ‘this time'?”

“Marco, we looked all over the ship,” Dakota said. “We never found any treasures or anything. But it's nice to know at least one of your stories is true.”

“One?” Marco laughed. “Try hundreds!” He fluttered across the cabin to the sword collection on his wall and pulled on the handle of the last sword. As he did, the boards on the floor began to move downward, creating a set of steps that led into a hidden room underneath the cabin.

“A secret room?” Chuck gasped.

“Of course!” Marco said. “Did you really think Marco Pollo would keep his riches where anyone can find them?”

Chuck and Dakota clomped down the steps into a small gallery filled to the brim with treasures. There were ancient artifacts and mystical objects…glittering jewels and gold coins…there was even a sea snake's head mounted on the wall. It was everything Chuck had hoped for.

Standing in the middle of a room full of riches, they now both knew that they never had to doubt Marco again. And the two of them couldn't help but agree on one thing: that really was some treasure hunt.

For hundreds of years, the secret, sunny island of Bermooda was a rather uneventful place. There were plenty of exciting and enjoyable moments, of course, but always in the name of progress or good fun. It was rare that the cows of Bermooda saw anything dangerous or out ofthe ordinary happen. Most things on this tiny tropical paradise were just as peaceful and predictable as the constant rolling of ocean waves upon the shore. But that was all before the days of Chuck and Dakota Porter.

Sure, lots of folks have talents. Some folks have a knack for swimming and sailing, some have a knack for baking coconut cheesecake, and some even have a knack for growing beautiful hibiscus flowers. In the case of Chuck and Dakota Porter…well, they had a knack for finding trouble, even in a place like Bermooda.

It had all started the day Chuck found Dakota washed up on a sandbar. Dakota was
not a cow like Chuck. Nor was he a pig, a bird, a monkey, or any of the other animals that walked,
talked, and lived on the island. Dakota was a hu'man, a savage creature everyone believed had been
extinct for ages. No one on the island had ever seen a hu'man before, and no one seemed to know much
about them, except for the legend about how they were nothing but monsters that ate cows and
breathed fire. To keep the island from plunging into panic, Chuck dressed Dakota in “cowmouflage”—a
cow costume to hide his real identity. Since Dakota had no home and no family, Chuck brought him
home to the Porter House. Dakota was eventually adopted into the family, though no one had any clue
he was really a hu'man.

Ever since then, life on Bermooda had become much more eventful. Chuck was a
daring calf, and if he couldn't find any excitement, he'd simply make some. This bold spirit
constantly led him and his newly adopted brother into dangerous and thrilling situations. It seemed
like every day was a new adventure.

Today, however, was not one of those days. Today was quiet and peaceful. No
mysteries, no discoveries, no adventures of any kind. Just the crashing of waves, a warm breeze, and
the gentle cawing of seagulls. As far as Dakota was concerned, it was the perfect way to spend a
Saturday. Dakota was far less interested in adventure or excitement than Chuck. He would much rather
spend the day lying in the thick grass under the tall trees, wearing a straw hat and filling up on
delicious bananas. That is what they were doing on this Saturday in particular.

“Pass me another banana,” Dakota said.

“This is the last one,” Chuck said, tossing it to him. “If you want more, you'll
have to climb another tree.”

Dakota looked up at the trees towering over them. Bermooda's banana trees stood
nearly twenty feet tall. Clumps of yummy yellow bananas teased their eyes, dangling up out of reach.
Bermooda's cows were capable of doing many things that an average cow could not, but climbing trees
was not one of them.

However, Dakota was excellent at climbing trees since he had fingers and toes
instead of hooves. His climbing was not quite as fast as a monkey's, but it saved them the trouble
of dragging out a ladder. But Dakota felt quite relaxed at the moment and was not in the mood to
scramble back up and fetch any more bananas. Propping his back against a tree, he pulled his straw
hat down over his eyes and folded his hands behind his head.