Eddy Stone and the Epic Holiday Mash-Up Page 2

  He turned to the shop owner, and noticed that the wall behind her was covered with paintings. Big, blobby, brightly coloured paintings.

  “Good day, honest shopkeeper. That’s a very nice painting.” He pointed to a blazing yellow splodge, which was dotted with purple streaks.

  “Really?” said the shop owner. She was rather surprised, because she knew it was in fact a dreadful painting. Like all the paintings in her shop, it was the work of her auntie, who had no artistic talent at all. A donkey holding a paintbrush between its teeth would have done better. While wearing a blindfold.

  The shop owner only kept the paintings because she was too polite to hurt her auntie’s feelings.

  “Lovely picture of – um – a nice doggy,” said the Captain.

  “It’s the Taj Mahal by moonlight, dearie,” said the shop owner.

  “I’ll give you two doubloons for it,” said the Captain.

  “Forty pounds,” bargained the shop owner, who hadn’t a clue how much a doubloon was worth in modern money.

  “Three doubloons,” answered the Captain, who hadn’t a clue either but wasn’t going to give in.

  “Thirty.”

  “Three doubloons and a ring with a picture of a mermaid on it.”

  “Sold!”

  The Captain spat on his palm and shook the shop owner’s hand to seal the deal.

  A rattle of coins and a mermaid ring later, the Captain and Eddy were out on the pavement clutching a remarkably lifelike painting of a giant blob of custard and jam.

  “Now, that’s what I call a bargain!” said the Captain.

  “But not what you’d call a treasure map,” Eddy pointed out. “Perhaps this time you should leave it to me.”

  They went back into the shop. The shop owner was wiping spit off her hand with a tea towel covered in pictures of jellyfish of the world.

  “We’re interested in that chest,” said Eddy.

  “Oh, yes,” said the shop owner. “It used to belong to a shabby old sailor.”

  “Do you have any idea of its true value?”

  “Not the slightest, dearie,” said the shop owner.

  “It’s one pound thirty-two pence,” said Eddy. Luckily, that was exactly how much he had in his pocket.

  “It’s a deal,” said the shop owner, who was delighted to have sold two things in one day. “I’ll just move the glass case with the lobster and the copper jelly mould so we can get it out. And then I suppose you’ll want me to show you how to open the secret compartment with the treasure map inside?”

  “There’s a knack to opening this chest,” said the shop owner. “The shabby old sailor showed me. First you have to twist the dolphin’s head that’s carved on the front.” As she turned her hand, a panel next to the dolphin’s head slid back, revealing a crystal shaped like a teardrop.

  “Then you have to move the chest into the sunlight.”

  Eddy and the Captain pushed the chest forward. As light hit the crystal teardrop, it began to glow pink, and a flap on the top of the chest suddenly flipped open. With a gentle whirring of clockwork and cogs, a tiny golden harp rose into view.

  “Then you have to strum the harp.”

  She ran her hand across the strings. The notes crept into the shop like an angel’s whisper, then swelled into a tune so beautiful it would have melted a wasp’s heart. The crystal filled even the gloomiest corner of the shop with its pink glow, and the chest itself seemed to throb with a mysterious energy. Eddy felt the music flowing through him, tingling from his toes to his nose.

  “And then,” said the shop owner, “you do this.”

  She drew back her foot and kicked the chest as hard as she could. The glow vanished, the music fell silent, the chest let out a loud groan, and a hidden drawer shot across the shop like a missile. It bounced off a wicker basket, smashed a chunk out of a vase, clanged into an old bucket, and flipped over in the air.

  Something faded and dusty fell to the floor, and unrolled towards them. Its edges were tattered. It was streaked and stained. It had a compass drawn in one corner, and islands with jagged mountains and palm trees, and at its top the words A Treasure Map. It lay before them, full of excitement and creases and a smell like old cabbage.

  “A real pirate treasure map!” shouted Eddy.

  “Grungeybeard!” shouted the Captain.

  “Excuse me, dearie,” said the shop owner, “but what is a grungeybeard?”

  “Not you as well?” said the Captain. “Settle your bottoms and pin back your ears, and I will tell you a tale – a tale of greed and folly and cruelty and madness – for I will tell you The Tale of Grungeybeard the Pirate!”

  “Could you do it without the funny voice, please?” asked Eddy.

  “What funny voice?”

  “That one – you’ve gone all strange and wobbly and old-fashioned.”

  “Have I? Sorry. Ahem. I mean, sorry. Right then – he was a wild one, was Grungeybeard. The terror of the high seas – him and his ship The Primrose. And you’ve got to be a real terror to get away with calling your ship after something as weedy as that. He thought it were a laugh to see grown men tremble when they heard the name of a little flower. But that was Grungeybeard for you – the only thing sharper than his sense of humour was his cutlass.

  “For five fearless years he robbed and looted, and gathered the greatest hoard of treasure that any pirate has ever seen. And he had a high old time. He loved his luxuries – fine wines, expensive chocolates, lobster and caviar for breakfast. And he loved being famous, too. He paid poets to write verses and spread the news of his latest daring deeds.

  “But all that treasure started to weigh on his mind. And his mind couldn’t bear it. If anyone admired the gold buttons on his waistcoat, or the silver buckles on his shoes, or the diamonds he’d had set in his teeth, Grungeybeard thought they meant to steal them. If anyone shook him by the hand, Grungeybeard would count the ruby rings on his fingers afterwards to check they were still all there. And then he’d count his fingers, to be doubly sure.

  “So he decided to take all his most valuable treasure, and bury it in a secret place where no one would be able to find it. He loaded up a great oak chest – they do say that there were pearls as big as conkers, diamonds as big as gulls’ eggs, and emeralds as big as very fat hamsters.

  “One moonlit night he took his two most trusted crew members, rowed to a tropical island and buried the chest. Then he decided that even his most trusted crew members couldn’t be trusted to keep the secret of where they had hidden it. So he shot them both. It is said that they died with a terrible curse on their lips – a curse on Grungeybeard and his riches.

  “And then – nobody knows. There’s some do say he decided that he couldn’t even trust himself not to give away the secret by talking in his sleep, so he shot himself, too. There’s some do say he went stark mad and had a great ship built out of solid gold that slipped straight off the launching ramp and down to the bottom of the sea – taking him and all his crew with it. And there’s some do say he changed his name to Nigel, opened a small tea shop, and spent the rest of his days baking scones.

  “And from that day to this, no one ever knew where his treasure lay hidden. Until this map gave up his secret. We’re going to be rich, Eddy my lad. We sail with the tide!”

  “Brilliant!” shouted Eddy. “I mean, aye aye Captain! Where do we meet the rest of your crew?”

  “Stinky fish!” shouted the Captain. “I knew I’d forgotten something. We needs a crew.”

  The shop owner coughed quietly.

  “Ahem! I’d love to sail with you.”

  “You?” said the Captain, looking her up and down. The shop owner blinked up at him through her spectacles. “Have you ever been to sea?”

  “I took the ferry to France once.”

  “Can you handle a cutlass in the heat of battle?”

  “I’m sure I’d pick it up. I’m a dab hand with a potato peeler.”

  “This is a voyage of peril and endeavour
. I’d have to be desperate to sail with you on board.”

  “Oh,” said the shop owner, trying very hard not to sound disappointed.

  “What I needs,” said the Captain, “is a gang of salt-seasoned old sea-dogs, with sailing in their sinews and spirit in their stomachs. Now where in all the wide blue yonder am I going to find them?”

  “I’ve read about this,” said Eddy. “Pirate captains hire their crews in rough old backstreet inns full of black-hearted villains who’d sell their own grannies for ninepence.”

  “Quite right,” said the Captain. “Let’s go and hunt round town.”

  They soon found a damp and dingy alley leading to a damper and dingier courtyard. A rat scuttled away through a hole into the dirtiest, grottiest, smelliest and stickiest building that Eddy had ever seen. In fact, it was so dirty, grotty, smelly and sticky that a moment later the rat staggered out again, coughing and gasping for air.

  A grimy sign swung above their heads – The Tidemark Bay Rough Tough Club.

  Eddy spotted a blotchy handwritten note pinned to the door.

  “Look, Captain. ‘Grannies for sale. Various sizes. Enquire within.’”

  “Perfect,” said the Captain.

  But it wasn’t perfect. It was shut.

  Eddy saw another notice in the window, where it had been stuck with the remains of a meat and potato pie.

  “It says, ‘Away on our Shout Round Europe summer coach trip. See you softies in two weeks.’”

  “We can’t wait that long,” said the Captain. “We needs to catch the tide. This is desperate.”

  “Desperate? Then I’m your woman,” said the shop owner, popping out from behind an old barrel. “Please, Captain. You can’t imagine what it’s like to stand in that shop week after week. Some days I don’t see a single soul. I’ve always dreamed of sailing off on an adventure. Give me a chance, dearie.”

  The Captain sighed. “I don’t seem to have a choice. Oh, well. From now on, you will be known as the Crew. You will call me Captain, and I will call you anything I like, because I’m in charge. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, dearie,” said the Crew.

  “You call me Captain.”

  “Yes, Captain, dearie.”

  “Now, before we set sail we will need some essential kit. Like a telescope.”

  “Got one!” said the Crew. She dragged an enormous red rucksack from behind the barrel, rummaged around, and pulled out a brass telescope.

  “And a compass.”

  “Got one!”

  “And a…”

  “Log book, hammock, lantern, inkstand, quill pen and barrel of rum. Got them.”

  “Gosh,” said Eddy. “Everything but the—”

  “Kitchen sink,” interrupted the Crew. “Got one. All that a pirate captain could need.”

  “Then where’s my carrot?” asked the Captain. “To sit on my shoulder.”

  “Don’t you mean parrot?” asked Eddy.

  “Carrot,” said the Captain.

  “My books say that pirates had parrots on their shoulders.”

  “Your books hadn’t even heard of Grungeybeard,” said the Captain. “I bet they were written by a load of landlubbers who don’t know what they’re talking about. One day one of them puts parrot instead of carrot by mistake and before you know it they’re all copying it. I ask you, who’d want a parrot on his shoulder? It would be forever pecking your earhole and pooing down the back of your coat. Daft idea.”

  “And why do you want a carrot?” asked Eddy.

  “The sea holds many secrets,” said the Captain. “And that is one of them.”

  They found a greengrocer’s shop round the corner. Outside it stood a large sack of carrots. The Captain began to pick through them, and soon spotted a medium-sized one with a slightly wonky end.

  “This one’s for me,” he said. “A carrot with character.” He perched it on his right shoulder. The carrot fell off.

  “He just needs to find his sea legs,” said the Captain.

  “But we’re not at sea,” said Eddy.

  “Well there you are then,” answered the Captain. “How could he possibly have found his sea legs when we’re still ashore? And now it’s time we weren’t ashore no more. The waves wait for no man.”

  “The harbour’s this way,” said Eddy. “Let’s board your ship.”

  “My ship? Rudders and rigging!” shouted the Captain. “I knew there was something else I’d forgotten. Come on – there must be a spare one down there!”

  “You can’t just take someone’s ship,” said Eddy. “That’s stealing.”

  “It’s not stealing,” said the Captain. “It’s borrowing. It’s what pirates do. It’s amazing what people will lend you after you wave your sword around and shout a bit.”

  He broke into a trot. But with his big boots flopping and his long coat flapping and his scabbard getting tangled with his legs, he couldn’t run very fast. And every few strides the ship’s carrot fell off his shoulder and he had to stop to pick it up. So even though Eddy had the yellow painting rolled up under his arm and was dragging the sailor’s chest behind him, and even though the Crew was hauling her enormous red rucksack around, they all reached the harbour together.

  “Jellyfish juice,” muttered the Captain. “Where is everybody?”

  Twenty years ago, the harbour had been the busiest part of a bustling fishing village. You couldn’t move for boats coming in and out, crates of fish being unloaded, and salty old sailors mending their nets.

  Ten years ago, the harbour had been the busiest part of a lively holiday resort. You couldn’t move for visitors taking a boat trip, or buying fish and chips, or visiting the town museum to see a couple of actors pretending to be salty old sailors mending their nets.

  Now the fishermen had retired, and the holidaymakers had stopped coming. The harbour was still the busiest place in town. But even the busiest place in Tidemark Bay was almost deserted. By a pile of tattered old fishing nets, two seagulls were squabbling noisily over the crumbs from a packet of prawn cocktail flavoured crisps.

  The harbour was empty – apart from a lonely rowing boat that bobbed on the tide.

  “Will that do, dearie Captain?” asked the Crew.

  “Will it do?” said the Captain. “We’re off to sail the seven seas, not to paddle around a puddle. Course it won’t do.”

  Eddy’s face fell. “We can’t get anywhere without a ship,” he said.

  The Captain turned to look at him.

  “Hang on a minute,” said the Captain. “What’s this, then?”

  Behind Eddy stood a large wooden shed that had been decorated to look like an old sailing ship. The walls were curved like a hull, with a pointed prow at one end. The flat roof had low wooden railings running round it, like a deck. A plastic cannon poked through and pointed out over the harbour. A ship’s wheel stood by a flagpole that was painted to look like a mast. Above the remains of some ragged cotton sails a flag fluttered limply in the breeze. The flag bore the faded words Captain Cockle’s Crunchy Cod Cakes.

  It was a snack bar. Or rather, it had been a snack bar. Captain Cockle had sold his last crunchy cod cake long ago. The place was closed down and boarded up.

  “Come on,” shouted the Captain. He scrambled up a rope ladder that was hanging from the roof, then hauled Eddy and the Crew up after him.

  He looked around with a grin.

  “Say hello to our new vessel.”

  “We can’t sail off in this,” said Eddy.

  “Why not?” asked the Captain. “You can’t call this stealing. Look at the state of it. It’s obvious that no one else wants it.”

  “We still can’t sail off in it.”

  “We’ll bring it back.”

  “But we still can’t sail off in it.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a shed. You can’t set sail in a shed.”

  “Never mind that,” said the Captain. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a black flag with a skull and
crossbones on it. “You haul down that tattered old flag and put this up in its place. Crew!”

  “Yes, dearie.”

  “You mean, ‘Aye aye, Captain’.”

  “That’s right, dearie.”

  “Cast off and set a course for the high seas.”

  “Aye aye, Captain dearie! And by the way…” She tucked the carrot under the gold braid on the shoulder of the Captain’s coat. “There, now. That should stop it falling off any more.”

  “This is nuts,” Eddy muttered to himself. He unknotted the rope on the flagpole and pulled down the old Captain Cockle flag. So much for adventure. He’d been really excited. Never mind that his parents didn’t want him around, or that his gran kept losing the plot, or that the local kids were horrible to him. He was going to forget all of that because he was off to find buried treasure and to save his gran’s cottage from falling down. But now, without a ship, it was just another game – and a stupid one. He could have sat on a shed roof and pretended to be a pirate on his own if he’d wanted to. It had turned into a big disappointment – like being offered a huge box of chocolates and then finding out that every one of them was a lime cream. He hated lime creams.

  Just as he finished tying the rope to the skull and crossbones flag, the planks beneath his feet suddenly lurched, almost knocking him over. When he looked up, there was no sign of the harbour.

  All he could see around him was a great expanse of blue-green water.

  He was standing on the deck of a ship. It wasn’t very big, and it was all a bit tatty – the deck was worn and splintered, the rigging was frayed, and the sails that flapped in the wind had been yellowed and gnawed by the weather. But it was definitely a ship. And it was at sea.

  “That’s more like it!” shouted the Captain. “Crew!”

  “Aye aye, Captain, dearie!”

  “Unfurl the mizzen mid-gallant, haul in the for’ard bleachers, make fast the jib-cleats, double-up the yardarm stays and hold a course nineteen degrees north-north-west – there’s a hard blow rising to larboard that’ll shake the teeth from our heads if we don’t face her down!