Eddy Stone and the Epic Holiday Mash-Up Page 11

  “Hold ’em still, boys,” he growled. “These past few days, I kept hearing tales of a strange cow wandering round the islands. But no one could tell me what it was up to. So, I’ll ask you two again – are you going to let me in on your secret, or is it time to pluck another nostril?”

  The men in pink sobbed.

  “I can’t take any more,” whimpered one.

  “We’ll tell you why we’re here,” sobbed the other. “But please put the tweezers down. We’re keeping an eye on The Codcake while its crew hunt for treasure.”

  “Treasure! So that’s what they’re up to,” said Barracuda Bill, with a glint in his one good eye. “Then I reckon it’s time to pay them another little visit!”

  Back on The Codcake, the map was being no help at all. Eddy couldn’t work it out. They had brought back the ruby ring, just as it had told them to, but all that had appeared on the map was the word “WAIT”. Perhaps it’s broken, Eddy thought. But how did you mend a magic map? You couldn’t just stick new batteries in it, or hit the wonky button very gently in just the right place with a hammer like his dad had done that time he cracked the TV screen.

  He remembered how much his dad made him laugh. Sometimes it was even on purpose. And how often his mum got the giggles. He had been thinking about them a lot since the Beast almost bit his head off. He wondered what they were doing right now.

  “Cheer up!” It was the Crew. “You and the Captain with your long faces.”

  “I tried to be extra careful,” said the Captain. “But I still nearly got us all killed.”

  “But we’re all fine,” said the Crew. “Thanks to Eddy’s cleverness.”

  “Ahem,” said the Penguin. “Not forgetting the great smell of fish – which stopped us getting chomped by that ugly monster. Fish caught by yours truly.”

  “We’re a team,” the Crew added. “Like the raisins said. And we’re all right behind you, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Crew,” said the Captain, sounding a bit more cheerful. “But we all needs to keep our wits about us for whatever that map throws at us next.”

  “It’s still not doing anything,” said Eddy.

  “While we’re waiting, let’s see a bit of that teamwork,” said the Captain. “Pinwing – you’re on watch. Crew – mind the map. Cabin Boy – we have unfinished business. I’m not stopping till I’m ahead. So, how many monkeys have I got in my pocket?”

  Eddy decided he’d be very happy to give the wrong answer and let the Captain win if it meant the game could end.

  “Eleven,” he answered quickly.

  “Wrong,” said the Captain. “The answer is none. Ha, ha! I knew I’d get you eventually.”

  “Well done,” said Eddy. “Now, before we carry on, do you mind if I give you a clue?”

  “Go ahead,” said the Captain. “All’s fair in How Many Monkeys.”

  “The clue is – I haven’t got any monkeys in my pocket.” That should get it over with.

  “Very cunning,” said the Captain. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. Eddy could hear him muttering “bluff” and “double bluff”. After a couple of minutes he said, “In fact, it’s as cunning as a weasel with dark glasses and a stick-on moustache. But not cunning enough. I’ve worked it out. I think you think that I’ll think that you want me to think that you have no monkeys in your pocket. But I don’t think you thought as how I would think you thought that – so I don’t think what you thought I’d think you thought I think. In fact, I think I think the opposite. You see?”

  “Not really,” said Eddy. “You lost me a few thoughts back.”

  “To put it in a seashell,” the Captain continued, “I think you have three monkeys in your pocket. Aha!”

  “Uh-uh.” Eddy shook his head. “I have no monkeys in my pocket.”

  “Really?” the Captain asked. “I can’t think where I went wrong.”

  “Tell me, Captain, how many times have you played this game?”

  “Hundreds,” said the Captain. “Thousands.”

  “And has anybody ever actually had a monkey in their pocket?”

  “Not yet,” said the Captain. “But only a fool would think that means there couldn’t be a monkey next time.”

  Eddy was still wondering how that sentence could sound both very sensible and very stupid, when the Crew shouted, “The map has given us our next destination. Rocky Island – and there’s a big black cross on the drawing!”

  “What about the instructions?” asked the Captain.

  “It’s writing that now. It says, ‘G’… Oh, now it has stopped. ‘G.’ What kind of instruction is ‘G’?”

  “‘G’ for Grungeybeard!” yelled the Captain. “That cross must be where his treasure is buried! Pearls as big as conkers, diamonds as big as gulls’ eggs, and emeralds as big as very fat hamsters!”

  “Rocky Island is straight ahead on the map,” said Eddy excitedly.

  “I’ll tell the Pinwing to keep a good look out for it,” said the Captain.

  But at that moment the Penguin called, “Oi! I can see a rocky sort of island thingy!”

  “I’ve told you before,” said the Captain, “sailors must shout, ‘Land ahoy!’”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Say it properly and—”

  The Captain was silenced by a terrible grinding noise. The Codcake suddenly stopped dead, throwing them all off their feet.

  “What was that?” said Eddy, picking himself up.

  The Penguin’s voice drifted down the deck.

  “Land ahoy!” he said. “About as ahoy as it could possibly get.”

  They had found Rocky Island. They clambered down from the ship, stumbled over rocks draped with seaweed and pocked with barnacles, and stood back to inspect their vessel. She was still in one piece, but well and truly run aground.

  “Stranded!” wailed the Captain. “It’s true – the treasure is cursed. What use are gold and jewels if we’re stuck here?”

  “I don’t think it’s that bad,” interrupted Eddy. “Look – the seaweed on the rocks goes way above where The Codcake is sitting. And seaweed only grows where there’s sea. So the water must get much higher when the tide comes in. I reckon The Codcake will just float off when it does.”

  “I knew that,” said the Captain hurriedly. “Course I did. Well done, lad, well spotted, top marks. We’ll make a pirate of you yet. Now let’s find that treasure. Team – set to!”

  The Crew pulled spades from the bag over her shoulder, and handed them round.

  “I’ll start by that big rock on my left,” said the Captain. “Crew, you try the right, over by that other rock. Pinwing – you start at that rock near The Codcake, and Eddy, try round that little rock sticking up over there.”

  “Actually,” said Eddy, “if you don’t mind, I might try digging right here. I’ve got a funny feeling about this spot.”

  He pointed towards his feet. He was standing right in the middle of a huge black cross that had been painted on the ground.

  With a shout, they all started digging into the cross. Three spades bit the ground, while the Penguin scuffed at it with his feet, throwing sand and rocks behind him in a great plume. They worked deeper and deeper until, with a loud CLUNK, the Crew hit something solid.

  They scrabbled with hands and flippers to clear what they soon saw was a large wooden chest. It had a small copper plate on its lid. Salt and sand had eaten at it, but Eddy could still read out the words that were engraved on it – LOOK INSIDE.

  The Captain stood back, panting with the effort.

  “Grungeybeard’s treasure chest! I wants to savour this moment,” he said. “We are going to be rich beyond our wildest dreams.”

  “Are you sure about that?” said the Penguin. “Because when it comes to being rich, my dreams get very wild indeed.”

  They heaved at the lid and it slowly began to move.

  “This is it!” shouted the Captain, and with one last tug they forced the chest wide open. They peered excitedly inside. But
instead of heaps of gold and precious stones, the sunlight fell on a small, dull, brown brick.

  “Dodgy bottom!” shouted the Captain.

  “This is no time to discuss your medical problems,” said the Penguin.

  “No,” said the Captain. “I mean the chest must have a dodgy bottom, with a secret compartment underneath it where the treasure is hidden!”

  He tossed the brick over his shoulder, and smashed at the bottom of the chest with his spade. After a few lusty blows, the wood began to splinter. And suddenly, they could all see…sand.

  “Real bottom,” said the Penguin.

  “I don’t understand,” said the Captain. “Where’s Grungeybeard’s treasure?”

  “Hang on a minute,” said Eddy. “Where’s that brick?”

  He picked it up and sniffed it. It had a familiar smell. Where had he smelled that before?

  Oh, no. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

  “Captain,” he said, “remind me. How did you know we were on Grungeybeard’s trail?”

  “It was my dream,” said the Captain. “I saw his name written across the sky.”

  “And how was it spelled?”

  “I remember there were two ‘guhs’ and a ‘nuh’ and a ‘ruh’ at the start,” said the Captain. “And a ‘buh’ and a ‘ruh’ and a ‘duh’.”

  “I see,” said Eddy. “Grungeybeard has all those letters. But so does…gingerbread.” He held up the dull, brown brick. “The word you saw in the sky wasn’t Grungeybeard. It was gingerbread.”

  The Captain shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

  “Ooh,” he said. “Ahhh.”

  “The map was never leading us to treasure,” Eddy said sadly.

  “Oh, dear,” said the Crew. “That is a bit disappointing. Still, at least we had a lovely adventure.”

  “Why do you always have to look on the bright side?” said the Penguin. “It’s really depressing.”

  “It could be worse,” said the Captain. He was blushing bright pink. “I mean…oh, I don’t know what I mean. And it couldn’t be worse. I don’t even like gingerbread.”

  “Somebody must have a very strange sense of humour,” said the Crew. “To make the magic map and work out the tasks and bury this chest. It’s a lot of effort for a bit of cake.”

  “You’re right,” said Eddy. “That’s very odd. Unless we’re missing something.”

  “Like what?” said the Crew. “The sign said look inside. And we did.”

  “Maybe we haven’t looked at the right inside,” said Eddy. “I wonder.” He threw the gingerbread brick on the ground, took a spade, and whacked it as hard as he could.

  The gingerbread shattered into a billion crumbs. And one other thing.

  “Look!” said Eddy. “There was a piece of paper baked into it.”

  He picked it up. There was writing on it. Neat, round, old-fashioned handwriting.

  “This must be what we were meant to find,” said Eddy, smoothing out the paper and brushing off the crumbs. “It’s a poem.”

  “A treasure beyond price,” repeated the Captain. “I likes the sound of that.”

  “Me too,” said Eddy. “That’s a lot more than we’ll need to save Gran’s cottage. The poem is very bossy, though.”

  “Never mind that. Grungeybeard or no Grungeybeard, I reckons this is all going to turn out just right.”

  “Why did you have to say that?” said the Penguin. “It’s asking for everything to go just wrong.”

  “Stop being such a misery,” said the Captain.

  “Oh,” said the Captain.

  “What did I tell you?” said the Penguin.

  “Perhaps they won’t spot us,” said the Crew. “Perhaps they won’t bother with us if they do.”

  “Cooooooeeeeeee! Little Codcake!” Barracuda Bill bellowed. “I be a-coming to get you!”

  “You were saying?” said the Penguin.

  “Right,” said the Captain. “It’s very important for everybody to STAY CALM!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  “You just have a nice sit down, dearie, and try to stop shaking,” the Crew said to the Captain. “I survived the Great Freeze of ’63, the Great Flood of ’74, and the Great Toilet Paper Shortage of ’82. I can get through this, too. We’ve just got to consider all the options.”

  “We can’t run away,” said Eddy, “because the ship has run aground. We can’t hide, because we’re standing on a big bare rock. We can’t fight, because we can’t fight.”

  “Let’s face it,” said the Penguin. “If Barracuda Bill attacks, we’re doomed.”

  “Which means,” said the Crew, “we’ve got to find a way to stop him attacking in the first place.”

  “Maybe we can frighten him off,” said Eddy. “What if we were sick? I read in my Big Book of Ships that pirates were terrified of deadly diseases getting on board.”

  “So your plan for survival is for us to catch a fatal illness,” said the Penguin. “I think I can see a tiny flaw.”

  “We don’t have to catch it,” said Eddy. “We just have to make them believe we’ve caught it. My book has a picture of a ship flying a big yellow flag to warn other vessels to keep clear. So, we need something big and yellow.”

  “Auntie’s painting!” shouted the Crew. “It’s got a few purple splodges where the Taj Mahal’s meant to be, but they’ll hardly show from a distance.”

  “Great!” said Eddy. “Get it from the Captain’s cabin and we’ll run it up the flagpole. And then we have to put on a show to convince the pirates. We need someone who can act. Penguin – I think this is your big moment.”

  The Captain was draped over the ship’s wheel, playing dead. The Crew lay sprawled across the deck. Eddy was flat out nearby, eyes shut, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

  “Boarding party, prepare grappling irons!” Barracuda Bill’s voice was alarmingly close.

  Eddy opened one eyelid the tiniest fraction, and peeped out. The Scavenger was almost alongside. And two dozen of the biggest, hairiest, bristling-with-weaponsiest pirates that you could ever wish not to meet were lined up at the ready.

  Perhaps their plan wasn’t going to work.

  “Boarding party, swing grappling irons!”

  They were coming. And there was nowhere to run.

  “Yellow Jack!” a voice suddenly yelled. At last, someone had spotted the warning flag.

  Another shouted, “They’m got fever aboard!” and “Hold, lads!” and there was a jostling and muttering and “I see a body!” and “There’s another!” and the clunking of grappling irons as they were dropped to the deck.

  It’s working, thought Eddy. He could hear the alarm in their voices.

  But then Barracuda Bill growled, “Are you lily-livered chicken-hearted milk-swigging lackguts going to fall for that old trick? I reckon if one of those bodies feels your boot you’ll soon find out they’re as alive as you or me. And there’s a ducat in my pocket for the man who’ll prove me right.”

  Then the muttering changed in tone, and one particularly big, particularly hairy, particularly bristling-with-weaponsy pirate stepped forward and shouted, “I say the Captain’s right! I’ll win that ducat, and crack a few bones while I’m about it. Stand back, boys, and let me at ’em.”

  Oh, no, thought Eddy. We’re done for.

  And then from behind him he heard a pitiful groan and a hacking cough and the Penguin stumbled across his view.

  “Dead!” wailed the Penguin. “All dead – and me not long for this world neither! Ohhhhh! Why me? I’m too young and handsome and just plain all-round brilliant to die!”

  He tottered around the deck, then raised a feeble flipper towards The Scavenger, a look of terror on his face.

  “Ohhhhhh! It’s the fever – the terrible fever – it’s Poor Sore Head. Stay back, or it will kill all of you, too.”

  He cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath – “The horror! The horror!” And then with a final twirl on one foot, he collapsed, limp and silent.
<
br />   On board The Scavenger, there wasn’t a sound, not even a whisper – until the noise of a carelessly dropped pin shattered the mood.

  “It looks like they really are ill,” said Barracuda Bill. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We’re safe, thought Eddy. Well done, Penguin!

  But then:

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen…”

  It was the Penguin. What!?

  “What do you give to a fish with no ears?”

  “You stupid bird!” And now the Captain spoke. “You’ve ruined everything.”

  Oh, no.

  With a snarl and a roar and a whirling of grappling irons, a blur of pirates swung from deck to deck.

  “I had to go for an encore,” said the Penguin. “The audience were mine – completely enthralled. It’s every performer’s dream.”

  “And here,” said the Captain, “comes every sailor’s nightmare.”

  Barracuda Bill! A balding parrot sitting on his shoulder screeched, “Time for bye-byes!” and then chuckled cruelly. Bill bent forward and thrust his face so close that Eddy could see the fleas jumping in his bristling red beard. He opened his lips, revealing a mouthful of long, sharp teeth.

  “What ho, me hearties?” he growled.

  “Who shall we begin with, then?” said Barracuda Bill. “Small boy, old lady, weird black and white duck, or little pirate?” He frowned at the Captain. “Do you know you’ve got a carrot on your shoulder?”

  “And you’ve got parrot poo all down your back,” said the Captain, as the parrot plopped a big one on Barracuda Bill’s coat, and squawked, “Polly wants a nut!”

  “Ouch!” replied Barracuda Bill, as the grumpy parrot sank its beak into his earlobe.

  “I’m not a duck,” the Penguin began.

  “If I say you’re a duck, you’re a duck,” snarled Barracuda Bill. “Understand?”

  “Quack!” said the Penguin.

  “I heard that you lot have been collecting treasure,” said Barracuda Bill. “Now, we can do this the hard way, or the easy way.”

  “Easy way, please. Quack!” said the Penguin.