Eddy Stone and the Epic Holiday Mash-Up Page 7

  SPLAT! The fish heads spattered onto his green coat. SPLURT! The fish guts squelched into his red-and-white striped breeches. PING! The sprout bounced off his shoulder and parted Eddy’s hair as it flew by.

  “I reckon that’s extra rum all round!” shouted Barracuda Bill. His horrible cackling laughter rang out over the loud BOOM BOOM of the pirates’ feet stamping on The Scavenger’s deck as they sailed away from the island.

  “Oh, dear,” said the Crew. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to wash more than your hat, Captain.”

  “That man is a menace,” said the Captain. “Him and his whole crew.”

  “You have to admit though,” said the Penguin, “their aim is impressive.

  I never thought they’d hit you from that distance.”

  The Captain shook off his long boots, then peeled off his green coat and pulled off his striped breeches.

  “If there’s two other things I can’t stand,” he said, dunking the clothes in the water, “it’s a mucky coat and mucky trousers. And while these are drying, we’ll have that round of How Many Monkeys.”

  “That might be difficult,” said Eddy. The Captain was standing on the shore wearing only his long undershirt and moth-eaten socks. “Right now you haven’t even got any pockets to put your monkey in.” At least that meant they wouldn’t have to play the silly game again, thought Eddy.

  “Good point,” said the Captain. “But I’ll beat you next time.”

  “Why is Barracuda Bill so horrible to you?” asked Eddy.

  “He’s horrible to everyone. And the reason why he’s horrible to everyone is that he’s just plain horrible. He’s as bad as a quarrel of crocodiles and as mad as a bee in a bottle. I heard tell that on one island he visited, he stole all their food to feed his crew.”

  “That’s bad,” said Eddy.

  “And then he made everyone wear their underpants over their heads, banned Wednesdays, and ordered them to say everything backwards.”

  “And that’s mad,” said the Crew.

  “Let’s just hope that’s the last we see of him,” said the Penguin.

  “He has a nasty habit of turning up where he’s not wanted,” said the Captain. “Which is anywhere. And if he finds out we’re looking for Grungeybeard’s treasure, then we’ll really be in trouble.”

  “Yum!” said the Captain. “Chocolates. I like a good choccy. Just like Grungeybeard. He were famous for his sweet tooth.”

  “The map said we’ve got to collect them,” said Eddy, “not eat them.”

  “Yuck,” said the Penguin. “Gooey sticky muck. Give me a nice bit of fish any day.”

  A few hours had passed since the Captain had shown the verse from the Poet Tree to the magic map, and the map had revealed the next stage in the quest:

  The poem was now safely stowed in the shabby old sailor’s chest in the Captain’s cabin, The Codcake was safely docked in the harbour on the Island of Rare and Exotic Goods, and the four adventurers were standing on a quayside that hummed with noise and bustle. Wherever they looked, people were loading crates and baskets and boxes on and off ships.

  “Right,” said the Captain, “let’s find this sweet shop.”

  “And look out for anyone selling socks,” said Eddy. “I must have left mine somewhere in the middle of all those books.”

  The Codcakers pushed past market stalls laden with strange-looking fruit and vegetables. Eddy spotted one that was piled high with punnets of tiny orange berries, and bunches of what looked like bright blue bananas. A woman had baskets of hot cakes that steamed with sweetly spiced aromas. Another had a pen full of – well, Eddy would have called them ducks if they hadn’t had long floppy ears and big feathery paws. Hidden in the shadows nearby stood a surprisingly ordinary-looking cow.

  “That’s them,” the cow said quietly as the Codcakers walked past. “Keep your head down.”

  “My head is already down,” grumbled the stomach. “I thought it was my turn to be the front this time?”

  “We could do with some directions,” said the Crew. She walked up to a merchant who was wearing a long yellow coat and a jewelled eyepatch. “Excuse me, can you help us? We are looking for chocolates.”

  “Chocolates? No,” he replied. “But I have some beautiful necklaces made of hens’ teeth.” He threw the coat open, to reveal a dozen strands of polished white spikes dangling from his neck.

  “I’m sure they are lovely,” said the Crew. “But we are trying to find Ploverdew’s sweet shop.”

  The man shrugged his shoulders and pointed. “Down that street.”

  “Thank you,” said the Crew. Eddy looked down the narrow street of brightly painted buildings.

  “I can see the sign,” he said. “Ploverdew’s. At the far end on the left. Come on!”

  “You three go,” said the Penguin. “I’ll catch you up. This is so much better than sweets.”

  The Penguin was gazing at a huge tank of water in a shop window. Tiny coloured flashes darted and dabbled between waving weeds. They were fish – but fish like he had never seen before, as bright as the blocks in a paintbox.

  “Helloooooooo!” said the Penguin. “Oh, my!”

  Eddy was the first to reach Ploverdew’s shop. He peered in through the dusty window at a banner that promised: Try our treats and you will never go anywhere else again. The room beyond was lined from floor to ceiling with dark wooden shelves, and the shelves were lined from side to side with clear glass jars, dozen upon dozen of them. And every jar glowed with colour – orange and ochre and scarlet and green and black-and-white stripes and pink-and-purple swirls shone in the dull interior of the shop.

  “First in the shop gets to choose,” said Eddy. “Anyway, I bet I know much more than you two about sweets.”

  A bell jangled as they opened the door and stepped inside. Footsteps pattered up a set of stairs, and a head appeared over the counter.

  “May I help you, good sirs and madam?” asked the shopkeeper. He had a small thin voice, which suited his small thin body and small thin head. Above his small thin mouth was a small thin nose on which perched an enormous pair of spectacles.

  “We want some sweets, please,” said Eddy.

  “To describe the creations in this shop as ‘some sweets’ is like describing an exquisite painting as ‘some brushmarks’, or a beautiful symphony as ‘some notes’,” the shopkeeper sniffed. “We do not sell ‘some sweets’. I, Lanceling Ploverdew, pride myself that these are the finest sweets. Our every product is a delicious morsel of confected perfection, a masterpiece of mouth-watering lovelitude.”

  “There’s so much to choose from,” said Eddy. “I can’t decide where to begin.”

  “I was always partial to wine gums,” said the Crew.

  “Perhaps madam might be tempted by our vintage selection,” said Ploverdew. “We use only the finest wines from the finest years, aged in our cellars until they are at their peak, and then – well, why waste words, when you may try one sweet each before you buy?” He unscrewed the lid of a jar, reached in with a white cotton-gloved hand, and offered a sugary crimson jewel to the Crew.

  “Thank you,” she said, and popped it into her mouth, “Mmm – it’s really very very…” She made satisfied sucking noises.

  “I believe you will find lavish blackberry fruit with notes of cedar and cinnamon, and a hint of sunburnt leather. I believe you may reflect that compared to this delectable delight, other wine gums taste like a mouthful of sheep dip – with the sheep still in it.”

  “Mmmmmmm,” the Crew nodded as she sucked, “sssss vrrrrrr goooooo.”

  “Precisely.” Lanceling Ploverdew smiled and turned to the Captain. “I deduce from the cut of sir’s garmentage and the lingering tang of dead fish in the air that sir is a nautical adventurer – does sir know he has a carrot on his shoulder, by the way?”

  And from another jar he drew a dark brown pearl.

  “So – from distant lands. Cocoa beans grown by a jungle tribe. Antique rum salvaged from a s
torm-wracked galleon. A hint of nutmeg from the forests of an uninhabited volcanic island – the east slope, just below the waterfall, where the spice is caressed to extra ripeness by the early morning sun. All in glorious harmony in our lushest, smoothest, velveteen truffle.”

  “A choccy,” said the Captain, as he popped it in his mouth and chewed. A look of dreamy surprise came over his face, his jaw slowed, and he began to roll his tongue round the scrumptious mouthful.

  “And for young sir, perhaps a sherbet fountain?” Ploverdew took a tube of brightly coloured paper from a cabinet, placed it in Eddy’s hand, and tore a small cardboard lid from its top. The tube puffed a cloud of orange powder into the air. Eddy was so surprised that he completely missed it, but he stuck his tongue out in time to catch a gush of green that zinged his taste buds with a fizz of grape. Then came yellow pineapple, and scarlet raspberry, each more intense than the fruitiest fruit he had ever tasted.

  “Wow!” he giggled. He lay on his back on the shop floor, holding the sherbet fountain above him as blasts of tangerine and plum and blueberry tumbled one after the other into his open mouth.

  If fireworks had flavours, Eddy thought, I mean, if flavours looked like fireworks… And then with a final puff of peach the tube collapsed, and all he could think of was that he had never really tasted anything before in his life.

  “That was very,” said the Crew. “Very very very very.”

  “Mmmmm,” agreed the Captain, smacking his lips together. “As sure as fish have fins. I want another one.”

  “Me too,” said the Crew.

  “And me,” said Eddy.

  “Of course you do,” said Lanceling Ploverdew. “That was ‘try before you buy’. Now it’s time to ‘buy after you’ve tried’. You have money, I presume?”

  “Oh,” said Eddy. “I spent all mine on a shabby old sailor’s chest.”

  “Oh,” said the Crew, “my three doubloons went in the gift shop on the Deserted Island of Blossom.”

  “This here is our funds for the voyage,” said the Captain, pulling a leather purse from his pocket, and emptying the contents onto the counter. “Three golden guineas, five doubloons, six ducats, a handful of silver and – what’s that?”

  “It looks like a Choccy Puff,” said Eddy. “I wonder how that got in there.”

  “I’m robbing myself,” said Ploverdew. “But as I like you, I suppose that will do.”

  “All of it?!” exclaimed the Captain.

  “Oh, yes,” said Ploverdew. “Though not the Choccy Puff. Nasty tacky icky sticky horrid vulgar thing.” He brought his fist down on it.

  “For three sweets?” asked the Captain.

  “Chocolate from the jungle, fine vintage wines and antique rum do not come cheaply. Not to mention the genius behind the exploding fruit sherbet fountain – my genius – inspired, unique, and precious. But if you don’t want…”

  “But we do. We do,” the Captain, the Crew and Eddy interrupted anxiously.

  “Of course you do,” said Ploverdew, sweeping the money into a drawer and the remains of the Choccy Puff into a bin. He took a silver tray and laid out one wine gum, one truffle and one sherbet fountain. The three fell greedily on the sweets, chewing and sucking and smacking their lips in pleasure.

  This time, Eddy was ready and hunched over his treat to avoid missing a single speck of powder. Once again, he was completely taken over by the zinging tingling fruitiness, until the tube gave its last puff of peach and folded in on itself.

  Then the fruitiness faded on his tongue, the tingle dwindled, and the zing went zonk.

  Eddy suddenly felt horribly empty. The world seemed grey and drab. There was only one thing that would make him feel alive – really alive – again.

  He had to have another one.

  “I have to have another one,” said Eddy.

  “I have to have another one,” said the Captain.

  “I have to have another one,” said the Crew.

  “I know,” said Lanceling Ploverdew. “Do you have another purse?”

  “You’ve had all our money,” said the Captain.

  “What a shame,” said Ploverdew. He pulled a heavy metal shutter down in front of the shelves where the jar of wine gums stood.

  “No!” shouted the Crew. And she burst into tears.

  “But yes,” said Ploverdew. He locked the cabinet where the sherbet fountains were lined up.

  “Another one!” shouted Eddy, trying to scramble over the counter.

  “Although,” said Ploverdew, “you could always do some work for me, and I could pay you with sweets. If, of course, there’s nowhere you have to go.” He smiled a joyless smile.

  “Go?” said the Captain. “Who would be daft enough to want to go anywhere when there’s sweets like these to be had?”

  “We’d love to work,” agreed Eddy.

  “Wine gum,” said the Crew.

  Lanceling Ploverdew opened a door behind the counter and beckoned them through. They trooped down a set of rickety wooden stairs into a cold and dingy cellar, where twisted glass tubes bubbled with thick coloured liquids and oddly shaped jars held rainbow clouds of swirling vapours.

  “Now,” he said. “Who wants another sweetie?”

  Eddy knew that he had never in his life wanted anything so much.

  “Me!” he shouted. “Me! ME! ME!!” as the Captain and the Crew joined in.

  “And what will you do to earn one?” asked Ploverdew.

  “Anything!”

  “That’s what I like to hear. Start with that enormous block of chocolate in the vat over there. Turn on the heat and keep stirring once it begins to melt.”

  The three Codcakers pushed and shoved each other to get at a giant wooden spoon.

  “I’m so glad you dropped by,” said Ploverdew. “My last lot of helpers were quite, quite worn out, poor things. So keen to get their rewards that they worked themselves to death.”

  And then he laughed a brittle, brutal laugh. A laugh so icy that it would have chilled a curry. A laugh that almost stopped him hearing the jangle of the shop doorbell.

  Almost. But not quite.

  “Curses,” cursed Lanceling Ploverdew. “I hate being interrupted in mid-evil. Still – more customers. And where there is work for three there is work for more.”

  He turned towards the stairs. “Let me go and see who will be the next to join our merry band.”

  The Penguin was not in the best of moods. First, he had found out that he wasn’t allowed to eat the little fishes. Their owner had explained this to him using a large and painful fly swatter. Now, he had come into this sweet shop to find no trace of his shipmates.

  “They couldn’t even wait for me,” he muttered. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s impatience. And just how long does it take to get some service in this place?”

  “Sir?” Lanceling Ploverdew slipped through the door behind his counter. “May I be of assistance?”

  “About time,” huffed the Penguin. “I’m looking for the three people who came in here a few minutes ago. Hairy one with a carrot on his shoulder, an old lady and a boy.”

  “Oh, yes, sir. They left.”

  “Without me,” said the Penguin. “Isn’t that charming?”

  “Oh, dear. How tiresome. Might I offer sir a little something to cheer him up?”

  “Don’t mind if you do,” said the Penguin.

  “I see that sir is a native of the frozen lands – so, a reminder of cooler times?” Ploverdew laid a snow-white cluster in front of the Penguin. “A tingling mingling of arctic cloudberries and white chocolate made with reindeer milk. And if you have ever tried to milk a reindeer you will know why this is so very special.”

  “Got anything with a bit of fish?” asked the Penguin.

  “Fish?”

  “You know. Shiny slippery swimmy things.”

  “I know what fish are. Slimy scaly smelly – eurggh!”

  “Says Mister Reindeer Milk. What could be more delicious than some l
ovely haddock éclairs? Mackerel marshmallows? Shrimp gums?”

  “Revolting!”

  “Just the thought of them makes me drool.”

  “Stop dribbling on my floor, you feathered freak.”

  “Who are you calling a feathered freak?”

  “Let me look around. Ah! You are the only one with feathers here, so Mister Freaky must be you.”

  That did it. The Penguin wasn’t going to put up with being insulted any longer.

  “Now listen here, sugarbreath…” he began.

  “Well?”

  “I mean…” Come on, he must be able to think of something. A witty insult to cut the old humbug down to size. “Errrr…” But nothing would come. Still, people often said that actions speak louder than words. So he blew a loud raspberry, lowered his head, launched himself forward, and sank his beak into Ploverdew’s skinny leg.

  The Penguin’s charge propelled them both through the door behind the counter. The sweet maker shot away from the impact, cannoned into the handrail at the top of the stairs, toppled wildly backwards, and teetered for a moment in mid-air. He scrabbled to grab hold of something – anything. But his fingers only clawed at empty space. With a terrible screech he fell down and down and down until with a loud FLOOOOOMMMP! he landed in the huge vat of now-melted chocolate.

  “Well, that’s shut him up,” said the Penguin with a satisfied grin.

  But it hadn’t. Ploverdew raised his chocolate-coated head from the thick brown pool.

  “A sweetie for whoever eliminates this pestilent penguin!” he shouted.

  Three shadows emerged from the gloomy reaches of the cellar. As they approached the stairs, the Penguin recognized them. The Captain, Eddy and the Crew. What on earth were they doing, messing around down here?

  “Oi! You three! Let’s grab some chocolates and get out of this dump!”

  They started climbing towards him. They were talking, but too quietly for him to make out what they were saying.