Eddy Stone and the Epic Holiday Mash-Up Read online

  “Well,” added the Captain, “what are you waiting for?”

  “Sorry, dearie,” said the Crew, “but would you mind saying that again – a bit more slowly?”

  The Captain took a deep breath.

  “Is there summat wrong with your ears?” he asked. “I said, unfurl the mizzen mid-gallant, haul in the for’ard—”

  “Yes, yes,” the Crew interrupted, “but would you mind saying that again a bit more slowly – and in English?”

  “I said, unfurl the… Oh for goodness’ sake, steer straight ahead and try not to bump into any big rocks.”

  “That’s better, dearie,” said the Crew, taking the ship’s wheel.

  “I don’t understand,” Eddy said to the Captain. “One minute we were on the roof of a shed, and the next it had turned into this ship.”

  “Never underestimate the power of a treasure map,” said the Captain. “There’s something out there as wants to be found, and won’t let the lack of a ship get in the way. Welcome aboard the good ship Codcake.”

  “Where are we? This isn’t Tidemark Bay.”

  “Unless I’m very much mistaken, that place behind us,” the Captain pointed towards a distant coastline, “is my home village of Pirate Cove. And I’m not very much mistaken, because that is Pirate Cove, and behind us is a very good place for it to be. And this big bluey-green wet thing all round us is what sailors call – the sea.”

  Eddy had seen the sea at Tidemark Bay in all weathers, but he had never seen it this colour. It’s as blue as a peacock’s feather and as green as a gooseberry, he thought. No, it’s as blue as a sapphire and as green as an emerald. No, it’s as blue as a summer sky and as green as the Crew’s face.

  The Crew was not looking well. The rolling, rocking, lurching, listing, swooping and swelling motion of the ship was all too much.

  The Crew was seasick.

  “This is the life, eh? You can be anyone you want to be out here and there’s no one to tell you you can’t,” said the Captain. He slapped the Crew on the back.

  “Please don’t do that, dearie,” said the Crew, in a quiet, clammy voice.

  “Feeling a bit green about the gunwales, are we?” said the Captain. “Happens to the best of them on their first voyage. I bet I know how you’re feeling – like your skin has turned to cold rice pudding.”

  “Do stop,” whimpered the Crew.

  “And your legs have gone loopy, and your guts are like a sackful of fox cubs who have drunk too much lemonade. And you think everything would be all right if you could just be sick. But you can’t.”

  “I might,” said the Crew.

  “Every sailor knows that feeling,” said the Captain. “And some of them sing about it.”

  He pulled a concertina from his coat pocket, and began a rousing rackety sea shanty.

  “What shall we do with the seasick sailor

  What shall we do with the seasick sailor

  What shall we do with the seasick sailor

  Early in the morning?

  HUEY! And up it rises

  GROOEY! And up it rises

  SPEWEY! And up it rises

  Early in the morning.”

  By the second verse, the green colour had spread from the Crew’s cheeks to the tips of her ears.

  “If he’s feeling queasy and he needs to retch up

  Feed him something greasy that he’s sure to fetch up

  Sausage, egg and bacon and a pint of ketchup

  Early in the morning.”

  “This isn’t helping very much,” the Crew said. “Oh. Yes it is,” she added a moment later, and ran to lean over the side of the ship.

  When she turned round, she was looking a lot less green and a lot more perky.

  “Right,” said the Captain, “that’s quite enough singing for one morning. There’s work for us Codcakers to do. Helmsman! That’s you,” he said, throwing the Crew a length of rope. “Tie the wheel in place to keep us on course.”

  “Aye aye, dearie,” replied the Crew enthusiastically.

  “Deckhand! That’s also you – find a mop and swab the decks.”

  “Aye aye, dearie,” replied the Crew slightly less enthusiastically.

  “Lookout—”

  “Let me guess who that is,” said the Crew.

  “Climb up to the crow’s nest and see what you can spot.”

  “I’m a Crew, not a crow, dearie,” muttered the Crew.

  “And no more muttering in the ranks. Any more muttering and I’ll tell the cook to reduce your rations. Which reminds me – Cook! What’s for lunch?”

  “What supplies have we got, dearie?” asked the Crew.

  “How should I know?” replied the Captain. “You’re the cook, get the cabin boy to go below decks and see what’s in the hold.”

  “And I suppose I must be the cabin boy, too,” said the Crew.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said the Captain. “You’re far too old to be the cabin boy. Eddy is the cabin boy. Eddy! Are you ready for some orders?”

  “You bet!” said Eddy. “Following a real pirate captain on a hunt for treasure – this is so much better than playing on my own back in Tidemark Bay.”

  “Take this lantern down below and see what you can find to eat. Oh, and watch out for rats. I’ve never known a ship yet that didn’t have a few of them sharp-toothed little varmints lurking in the hold. You be careful down there.”

  The air below deck smelled of salt and tar. The Codcake’s timbers creaked and groaned as Eddy held a lantern high above his head to light his way. The hold was stacked with crates and trunks and sacks filled with all sorts of things that would be useful on a voyage. There were ropes and candles and hammers and nails and dishes and forks and boots and spades and axes and saws and cups and spoons and saucepans and buckets and needles and cloth and absolutely nothing to eat.

  Eddy searched into the farthest corners. What did his books say that old ships carried for long voyages? Dry biscuits and barrels of salt beef and pickled herrings and mouldy cheese full of maggots. That’s what he was looking for.

  Well, maybe not the cheese.

  In the light from his lantern, the piles of supplies cast long shadows across the wooden walls. A sudden ocean swell set the lantern swinging, and the shadows stretched and strayed like living creatures.

  This is creepy, thought Eddy. But it’s just a trick of the light. Nothing to worry about. And if I keep thinking that, it will probably turn out to be true.

  Wait a minute. Hadn’t that one shadow on the far side just moved in the opposite direction to all the others?

  Eddy froze.

  And then he heard it – a scratching, pattering, shuffling sound coming from behind a pile of crates to his right.

  It must be rats! Just like the Captain had warned him.

  He looked around for a weapon. There was a pile of shovels to his left. He quietly picked one up. That would do. Holding it in his right hand, with the lantern in his left, he crept towards where the sound was coming from.

  He was almost on top of it now. Just behind this big crate. He put his lantern down on the floor, took hold of the shovel with both hands, and peeped round the corner. Ahead of him, in the gloom, a shape was scuttling around. A big shape.

  Rats, Eddy knew, could be vicious. And one as big as this… Its teeth must be – no, he really didn’t want to think about its teeth. Fighting it might not be a good idea. Trying to frighten it off was a much better plan. But could he scare it more than it scared him?

  He took a deep breath and silently counted down: Three…two…one…

  As he reached zero, he gripped the shovel tight and jumped out, yelling at the top of his voice.

  the rat shouted back, rooted to the spot.

  It was a funny-looking rat, thought Eddy, still shouting. For a start, it had a big, white tummy. Which he could see because it was standing up on its hind feet. Which were wide and yellow. And its fur didn’t look quite right. A bit fluffy. And there was definitely somethin
g stumpy about its front legs. And it seemed to be wearing a false nose – a long, pointed, yellow false nose. Which was open. And shouting.

  Eddy stopped shouting as suddenly as he had started.

  “You’re not a rat,” he said.

  “Oh, well done,” said the not-a-rat. “Top marks. I’ll give you a clue. I’m not a zebra, either. Or a panda. Or a giant humbug. And you are not a fish. More’s the pity.”

  “You’re a penguin.”

  “Ten out of ten. Big gold star. What on earth are you doing going round yelling and frightening me like that?”

  “You frightened me first.”

  “Oh, of course. Pardon me. There I was, quietly toddling round, minding my own business. Yes, I can see how that would be absolutely terrifying.”

  “I’m sorry if I frightened you. I heard noises. I got a bit jumpy. A lot has been happening today. It’s very strange. In fact, come to think of it, it’s about as strange as standing here chatting to a penguin. I didn’t know penguins could talk.”

  “Have you ever asked one?”

  “What are you doing down here anyway?” said Eddy, ignoring the question.

  The Penguin leaned forward and whispered, “I’m on the run from the ocean theme park just up the coast. I was one of the performers in the big show – Fishy Frolics – three times daily. I had to get out. There’s only so many times you can slide down a ramp on your stomach to catch a herring before you start to lose your dignity.”

  “It sounds terrible,” agreed Eddy.

  “Terrible?” said the Penguin. “It was torture. Stuck in the chorus line. Me! I can do the comedy dancing, I said. I can play the tunes on the motor horns better than that stupid sealion. Give me a break, I said, I’ll show you. I was born to be a star. But would they listen? Would they flip. So I ran away – to find my own spotlight. I’ve been in here working on a new act.”

  “Can I see it?” asked Eddy.

  “If you throw me a fish,” said the Penguin.

  “I haven’t got a fish,” said Eddy.

  “Well then,” said the Penguin, “question answered.”

  “I think,” said Eddy, “that I’d better take you to see the Captain.”

  “Blimey!” The Captain looked up from the treasure map that lay rolled out in front of him on the deck. “I saw a picture of one of those once. It’s a funny sort of duck. A pinwing.”

  “That’s penguin,” said the Penguin. “And I’m not a duck.”

  “He was hiding down below,” said Eddy, “and—”

  “Hiding?” the Captain butted in. “Then he’s a stowaway!”

  “What’s a stowaway?” asked the Penguin.

  “Someone who thinks he can lie low and sneak a free ride. And the only thing to do with a stowaway like you is to put you ashore on the next uninhabited island we pass. Marooned. Alone for the rest of your life, with only the trees to talk to. After a few years you start to hear the trees talking back. You slowly go gibbering, blibbering, babbling bonkers. It’s a fate worse than death. Until you eventually die – and then it’s a fate that is death.”

  “Then I’m definitely not a stowaway,” said the Penguin.

  “So you must be a volunteer, ready to share the work,” smiled the Captain. “Welcome aboard, Able Seaman Pinwing. You can start by polishing the anchor, darning the mainsail and tightening all the knots in the rigging.”

  “That sounds like a lot of work for one pair of flippers,” said the Penguin. “Stowaway or volunteer – is that it? Aren’t you forgetting the important position of ship’s entertainer? Listen – here’s one. What did the Atlantic Ocean say to the Pacific Ocean? Nothing – it just waved.”

  “Like I said. Stowaway or volunteer – which is it to be?” asked the Captain.

  “Hold on,” said the Penguin, “I need to think about this.”

  “You need to think about choosing between a bit of work and a horrible punishment?” asked the Crew.

  “I’m not cut out for ordinary work,” complained the Penguin. “There’s show business in my blood and stardust in my eyes. My name should be up in lights.”

  “We’re off on an adventure,” said Eddy. “We’re searching for treasure. You could be part of our story – and find fame and fortune.”

  “Fame? My number one favourite thing. Now you’re talking,” said the Penguin. “And fortune? My other number one favourite. Okay, I’m in. I volunteer.”

  “Then, for the second time,” said the Captain, “welcome aboard, Able Seaman Pinwing!”

  “But we need to sort out my part,” said the Penguin. “All this able seaman do this, able seaman do that – it’s just not me.”

  “So you’re more a not-very-able seaman?” suggested the Crew.

  “That suits me fine,” said the Penguin. “By the way, Captain, do you know you’ve got a carrot on your shoulder?”

  “Able or not, there’s jobs to be done,” said the Captain. “If we’re going to find this treasure, we’ll need to navigate. The ship’s compass can tell us what direction we’re going. But we needs to know how fast as well.”

  “I’ve read about how to do that,” said Eddy. “You use a long rope with knots in it. You let it out as you travel, and you count how many knots go past in five minutes. Then it just takes a simple bit of maths to work out your speed.”

  “I’ve seen one of those over there,” said the Crew, pointing across the deck to where the ship’s rowing boat was lashed to a stout wooden post. A thick coil of rope was looped round the timber. “I wondered what it was for.”

  “Right,” said the Captain, “Crew and Not Very Able Seaman Pinwing, get that rope over the side of the ship. And look lively!”

  The Crew heaved and puffed, and the Penguin lent a reluctant flipper to the job.

  The Captain turned back to his chart.

  “What next, Captain?” asked the Crew.

  “Now,” said the Captain, “let out the rope as we travel.”

  “What rope?” asked the Crew.

  “That rope that you just –” said the Captain, turning to face her – “hang on, what have you done with it?”

  “Thrown it over the side, dearie,” answered the Crew. “Following your orders.”

  “You’re only supposed to throw the end into the water,” shouted the Captain, “not the whole thing.”

  “You didn’t say that, dearie.”

  “I can see this trip is going to be a long haul,” said the Captain. “And now, how do you suppose we are going to work out where we are?”

  “I think I know how,” answered Eddy. “Look at this!”

  He pointed to the map. In the top corner there was a small drawing of a ship. As they watched, it moved very slightly and very slowly.

  “The map is showing us where we are,” said Eddy. “It’s like magic.”

  “Well, I’ll be jiggered!” exclaimed the Captain. “If that’s us, we should just be able to see that island.”

  He pointed to the map. Close to the tiny ship was a drawing of a small island, dotted with flowers and trees.

  The Captain picked up his telescope, strode across The Codcake’s deck, and scanned the sea around them.

  “Yes,” he said. “Land ahoy! Just like on the map… wait a minute.”

  “What is it?” asked Eddy.

  “It looks like we are not alone,” said the Captain. “Over there. Coming up behind us on the starboard quarter. See what you make of it. Your eyes are probably sharper than mine.”

  He handed the telescope to Eddy. Sure enough, there was another ship out on the water.

  And it was heading towards them.

  As it drew nearer, it became clearer.

  “It’s flying the Jolly Roger,” said Eddy.

  “Pirates!” said the Crew.

  “How does that work?” asked the Penguin. “We’re pirates. They are pirates. Is it all one big happy pirate family?”

  “Depends,” said the Captain, “on who they are.”

  “I can just
make out the letters on the front of the ship,” said Eddy. “It’s called the S – C – A – V – E – N – G – E – R. That spells…”

  “Scavenger,” said the Crew.

  “No,” said the Captain. “That spells trouble. Serious trouble.”

  The Captain turned pale. The blood ran from his face. Then it hurried down his back, scurried down his legs and hid in his boots. He staggered slightly and grabbed hold of the mast for support.

  “This is terrible,” he said. “Of all the ships in all the world, we have to run into The Scavenger.”

  “Why is that so bad?” asked Eddy. The expression on the Captain’s face made him wonder if he really wanted to hear the answer.

  “It belongs to Barracuda Bill.”

  “I’ve seen a picture of a barracuda in a book about fish,” said Eddy. “It’s big and very fierce, with a really ugly pointy head and lots of long, sharp teeth. So do they call him Barracuda Bill because he’s big and very fierce, too?”

  “No, they call him Barracuda Bill because he’s got a really ugly pointy head and lots of long, sharp teeth. But he is big and really fierce, as well. And he’s feared the length and breadth of the ocean. He’ll stop at nothing and nothing will stop him. And he’s heading straight for us.”

  “Can we get away?” said Eddy. “Can we outrun him?”

  “To go faster than him,” said the Captain, “we’d need to hoist more sails than him. To hoist more sails than him, we’d need more crew than him. He’s got a hundred hardened pirates, and we’ve got a boy, a lady who runs a shop and a pinwing. Can you see where this is going?”

  There was no doubt that The Scavenger was closing in on them. And the closer it got, the larger it looked. And the larger it looked, the scarier it became.

  Eddy could just hear the voices of The Scavenger’s crew, chanting in rhythm. Between each line they stamped twice on the deck with their boots –BOOM BOOM BOOM – and the sound carried across the waves like an enormous drum.