The Forgotten Map (9 page)

Horace stopped and whispered, ‘Don't breathe a word of this to anyone, will you? Ruby hates talking about her past, as does the Captain.'

‘The Captain,' Whisker gasped. ‘What do you know about the Captain?'

Horace looked hesitant.

‘Come on,' Whisker pleaded. ‘I can keep another secret.'

Horace sighed. ‘I'm not sure what you've heard, but Black Rat's father used to be a Pie Rat captain. Rumour has it he deserted his crew one evening, along with all the ship's treasure, and was never seen again. Black Rat hates his father for what he did, and if you ask me, I think he's trying to make amends. He may have a wild temper at times but he's fair. He puts the crew first and his entire portion of treasure always goes to his mother.'

‘Listen,' Horace said quietly, ‘you and I both have families that care about us. Ruby never knew her family and the Captain hates his father … Do you see where I'm headed?'

Whisker nodded. ‘Don't mention families.'

‘Good lad.'

‘What about Fred and Pete?' Whisker asked.

‘Well,' Horace began, ‘Pete is from a big family of eleven or twelve brothers and sisters. They lived in Elderhorne, delivering newspapers. I think that's how he became so interested in reading. Pete joined the crew before my time and his leg was bitten off by a fish during a fight with the Sea Dogs. He's been afraid of the water ever since.'

‘Is that why he's always so serious?' Whisker ventured.

‘No. That's just his personality. He does have a sense of humour, though. Take a look at some of the messages he leaves lying around with his pencil leg.'

Horace pointed to a line of scratchy red graffiti at the base of the mainmast:
The sail is mightier than the sword. Whisker stands triumphant
.

‘Nice,' Whisker grinned. ‘But what's the star supposed to mean?' He gestured to a large black star on the bulwark.

‘That's for Fred,' Horace explained. ‘The star stands for
starboard
. We all love Fred, don't get me wrong, but the finer points of sailing aren't his strong point. He was raised by a gang of sewer rats under the streets of Port Abalilly. One day, the gang made him swim after a biscuit tin that floated down the sewer. He followed it out to the ocean and when he lost sight of it, continued swimming. The Captain picked him up a few miles from shore and gave him the choice to join the crew or swim back to the sewer. Fred once told me the Pie Rats were the only real family he ever had.'

Horace picked up a scrubbing brush. ‘And that covers everyone – apart from Smudge, but he just showed up one day and hasn't left. I don't know if flies have families …'

By the end of the third day of scrubbing, the whole boat sparkled, with no hint of the foul pie smell and not a barnacle in sight. That evening a splendid full moon feast was held in the mess room to celebrate the start of Whisker's Pie Rat apprenticeship.

When the crew had all finished eating, the Captain stood up and brushed a crumb off his freshly cleaned jacket.

‘Ahem. If I can have your attention please? As you are well aware, Whisker has now completed his orientation and despite a few hiccups …'

‘More like large burps,' Pete mumbled.

‘Despite the cannon incident,' the Captain clarified, ‘Whisker has proven he can handle life aboard this ship and is now an official Pie Rat apprentice.'

‘Bravo!' cheered Fred and Horace, banging various utensils on the table. Pete clapped politely. Ruby folded her arms and said nothing.

‘According to Pie Rat tradition,' the Captain explained, ‘there is no set time for this apprenticeship. Whisker will become a full member of the crew with voting rights when he has proven he is ready and has passed the seven Pie Rat tests – one for each of the seven seas. He has already passed the
Survival
test, which leaves him with:
Strength, Strategy, Self-reliance, Sailing, Swords-rat-ship
and
Sacrifice
. It may take a month. It may take a year …'

‘Or longer,' Pete muttered.

‘Just because it took you a year-and-a-half,' Horace snapped, ‘doesn't mean Whisker can't do it in a month. Ruby only took three weeks.'

‘But she knew how to sword fight,' Pete shot back.

‘On the subject of sword fighting,' the Captain continued, ‘Ruby will start tutoring Whisker from tomorrow.'

Ruby glared angrily at the Captain. ‘But I've got no time left with my own training schedule.'

‘Consider him your training partner,' the Captain said firmly. ‘The quicker you can teach him, the sooner you'll be finished.'

Ruby began to argue, but the Captain cut her off. ‘Tomorrow we sail for the Crescent Sea. While we are in these parts, we will make enquiries into several important matters; including the whereabouts of Whisker's family, if in fact they are still …' He paused and restarted his sentence, ‘If in fact they have travelled this way. These waters are patrolled by naval warships from the Isle of Aladrya, so I want scissor swords sharpened and cannons in top working order.'

‘Aye aye, Captain,' Horace saluted.

‘Splendid,' the Captain said. ‘I will bid you all good evening then.' He bowed to the crew, paying particular attention to Ruby, who was frowning at the floor, and strode out of the room.

As soon as the Captain had left, Ruby barked, ‘Listen here,
apprentice
.'

‘Uh … yes?' Whisker replied.

‘First lesson,' she snapped. ‘Sword sharpening. On the deck. Dawn. You'll do exactly what I say. No questions. Understand?'

‘Perfectly,' Whisker gulped.

‘Good,' she huffed, and promptly walked out of the room.

Although Ruby had dropped his nickname of
boy
, Whisker wasn't looking forward to his new role as the slave of the ship. He rose from his chair and trudged into the galley with a plate of pie crumbs. Being a Pie Rat apprentice also meant he was the trainee dish washer, potato peeler and pot scrubber.

As he walked towards the washing-up barrel, Whisker noticed Horace rummaging through the galley, salvaging leftover pies for the cannons.

‘Aladryan warships, watch out,' Horace grinned.

‘What's so special about these warships?' Whisker asked.

‘Well,' Horace said with a gleam in his eye, ‘Aladryan warships are a sight to behold … Imagine a long vessel twice the length of our ship. Instead of two masts like our humble Brig, she has four, with three sails on each. When the wind is behind her, she's impossible to catch. But when the wind dies down, she lowers her oars and begins to row. She has a dozen enormous oars and the rowers will row all day if they have to.

‘Above the oars are the cannons. Each cannon shoots spiral shells filled with grit to blind enemies. For long range attacks, lumps of volcanic rock are fired. These rocks shatter on impact like glass. She is a Claw-of-War, a powerful warship no pirate ever wants to encounter. And here is the really good bit –'

Whisker stopped scrubbing and listened closely.

‘When she is too close to fire, she will ram you. Her battering ram is a giant claw …'

BANG!
Horace slammed his hook onto the table for impact. Whisker and Fred both jumped.

Horace lowered his voice. ‘Her crew are the legendary soldier crabs of Aladrya, the Blue Claw
.
They are the most organised, disciplined and determined navy I have ever encountered. Their shells are dense and their claws are powerful.'

Whisker was in awe of the dreaded sea vessel. But at the mention of soldier crabs, his fear subsided. He'd seen soldier crabs at the seaside, they were tiny. He struggled to imagine how even the biggest ones posed a threat.

Horace offered up another piece of information. ‘It's not their individual size that makes their army strong, it's the size of their army. Imagine over two hundred of the little nippers scurrying from a single warship onto our boat. You'd have to run the numbers past Pete, but we'd have to fight at least thirty crabs each.'

That night Whisker dreamt his cabin was overrun with soldier crabs, savagely snapping and pinching his tail from under his hammock while he defended himself with a scrubbing brush.

He wearily awoke with the first rays of dawn and staggered onto the deck. Before long, he wished he was back in his hammock, soldier crabs and all.

A Strange Encounter

'You're late,' Ruby snapped.

‘Hardly,' Whisker yawned. ‘The sun is still rising over the horizon.'

Ruby rolled her eye and pointed to a stone wheel in the corner of the deck. Whisker had used a similar grinding stone once before to sharpen blades for knife-throwing numbats at the circus.

‘Pay attention,' Ruby commanded. ‘You are to turn the handle carefully, while I sharpen the swords. Is that understood?'

‘Yes ma'am,' Whisker replied.
How hard can a few turns of a handle be?

As rays of the morning sun struck the side of the deck, Whisker realised just how hard it was going to be. Ruby had lined up every scissor sword, every spare scissor sword, all of Fred's cooking knives plus the rusty green sword from the fight.

‘I see you found the rest of it,' Whisker said, pointing to the second half of the scissors at the end of the line.

‘Your swords are a disgrace,' Ruby remarked. ‘I'd prefer you didn't train with sharpened weapons, but in their current state, they are a recipe for rust poisoning.'

With a mighty heave, Whisker turned the handle and the wheel began to spin. It was stiffer than the circus grinding stone and before Ruby had finished the first sword, his arms began to ache. By the time she had sharpened the Captain's two black swords, Pete's two yellow swords, Horace's two blue swords and her own two scarlet swords, Whisker felt like his arms were going to fall off.

‘I'm glad Fred fights with a fork and not a sword,' he panted, stopping to catch his breath.

He heard a low whistle behind him and glanced over his shoulder to see Horace shuffling onto the deck.

‘Guess what I've brought up?' Horace whispered.

‘A new pair of arms?' Whisker said hopefully.

‘Not arms,' Horace replied. ‘Fins! Look, I found a tray of Fred's pastry fins in the galley last night and glued them to our long range pies.' He pointed to a three-finned pie on the ground beside him. ‘It's lucky we left the cannon up here. The deck is the best place to watch these babies fly.'

‘What are you two mumbling about?' Ruby asked suspiciously.

‘Our new and improved defence system,' Horace boasted. ‘We're about to launch the first test flight.'

‘Who's
we
?' Ruby frowned. ‘Whisker has his paws full.'

‘
I
am going to assist,' cried a nasally voice from the stairs.

Whisker heard a familiar
CLOMP, patter
,
CLOMP
as Pete trudged into view.

‘I'm here to ensure there are no more safety incidents,' Pete announced. ‘We all know what happens when these two start messing around with pies.'

‘Argh, go and break a lead or something,' Horace grumbled. ‘I don't need your help. I've got Fred.'

‘I'm still going to supervise,' Pete insisted as Fred appeared at the top of the stairs with the rest of the pies.

‘Suit yourself,' Horace sulked. ‘Just stay out of the way. I won't hesitate to add a flying pencil to the experiment.'

While Whisker and Ruby sharpened, Horace and Fred loaded the first pie into the cannon. Pete watched from a safe distance, tapping his pencil incessantly. Smudge arrived on cue to light the first fuse.

‘All clear, Smudge,' Horace commanded. ‘Ready. FIRE!'

KABOOM!
The cannon exploded, sending the pie racing through the air. It soared in a graceful arc, landing far out to sea without the usual wobbles. Its path was dead straight.