Eddy Stone and the Epic Holiday Mash-Up Read online

  “Speak up,” said the Penguin. “I can’t hear you.”

  And then, as they got closer, he did hear them. Quite distinctly.

  “Get the Pinwing,” said the Captain.

  “Get the Pinwing? I mean, Penguin?” said the Penguin. “Why would you want to get me, guys?”

  “Sherbet,” said Eddy.

  “Choccy,” said the Captain.

  “You’d get me, just for a sweet?” asked the Penguin.

  “No contest,” said the Crew.

  They were almost on him now. The Penguin knew that he could try to get away, but they could run a lot faster than he could waddle. In fact, they could take a gentle stroll, with frequent breaks to have a nice cup of tea and admire the scenery, a lot faster than he could waddle.

  “Guys,” he said, his voice shaking a little. “It’s me. Your shipmate. Think of all the happy times we’ve had together, like…okay, think of all the times we’ve had together. You wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, would you?”

  “Get the pinwing, get a sweetie,” said the Captain.

  The Penguin backed towards the door.

  “Snap out of it!” he said.

  “Sweetie,” said Eddy.

  “Can’t you think of anything but sweets?”

  “Yum!” said the Crew. “Get the Penguin.”

  The Penguin stepped back again – and felt the closed door behind him. He was trapped against it, with nowhere to go.

  Still they came towards him, their eyes mean, their stomachs greedy, their hands outstretched to…

  “Oh, brilliant,” said the Penguin. “Is this how it’s going to end? All because you lot can’t think with your brains instead of your stomachs.”

  Brains?

  Stomachs?

  What did that remind him of? Something he’d heard before.

  He dodged as hands grabbed at him, but it was no good. They were pulling at his feathers, tugging on his flippers, clutching at his – ouch! And then he remembered. It was what the Crew said that night on the ship when there was nothing to eat – that her brain was more intelligent than her stomach. Maybe the trick that worked then would work now, too, and break the spell of the sweets. He took a deep breath and shouted as loud as he could:

  “We all had a pirate picnic

  To feed our pirate crew

  And on that pirate picnic

  The food we had to chew

  Was — CELERY!”

  There was a flicker in Eddy’s eyes, he thought. A tiny movement of the lips.

  “Celery!” the Penguin shouted again. “Great big green sticky bunches of the stuff!”

  Eddy’s nostrils twitched. He could almost smell it.

  “C-l-y,” he mumbled.

  He could almost taste it.

  “C-l-r-y.”

  He didn’t like it.

  “Celery.”

  Funny, thought Eddy. He was sure he had been thinking about something else. Something not celery.

  Oh well, he would probably be able to remember it if it was important. Just like he would probably be able to remember where on earth he was. And what on earth was going on.

  “Hello, Penguin,” he said. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to stop you three scuppering my promising showbiz career,” said the Penguin.

  “I see,” said Eddy, though he still didn’t. “Where are we?”

  “Pinwing, what is happening?” asked the Captain.

  “Got any celery?” asked the Crew.

  “It’s good to have you back,” said the Penguin.

  “Have we been away?” asked Eddy.

  “Yes, you have been away,” said the Penguin. “What on earth did you think you were doing?”

  But before anyone could answer his question – or rather, before anyone could say that they hadn’t a clue what the Penguin was going on about, because they couldn’t remember anything that had happened since they came into the shop – they were interrupted by a voice from below. An angry voice. The voice of someone who had been dipped in chocolate from a great height.

  “Misshapes! Rejects!”

  They looked down from the stairs. A sticky, drippy, brown figure was slowly hauling itself upright.

  “Who is that?” asked Eddy.

  “That is Ploverdew,” said the Penguin. “And before you ask, yes we are in the back room of his sweet shop, no he is not happy, yes I pushed him in, no it wasn’t an accident, and yes I do think we should be going.”

  “Not so fast!” shouted Ploverdew. His clothes had soaked up gallons of chocolate, which made them tremendously heavy. But struggling and grunting with effort, he managed to clamber out of the vat and onto the cellar floor. Warm chocolate rolled slowly down his body and began to form a glistening puddle around him.

  “You will never get the better of me! You see this handle – all I need to do is pull it and KA-BLAMMO!”

  “Ka-BLAMMO!?” said the Captain. “What’s ka-BLAMMO!?”

  “You are about to find out,” snarled Ploverdew. “Say goodbye!”

  He reached for a bright red handle that jutted out from the wall in front of him. Eddy watched as Ploverdew started to tug on it – and then everything seemed to turn into slow motion – and then slower motion – and then motion so slow that even a particularly lazy snail would have suggested putting a spurt on. Until, finally, the motion stopped altogether.

  The warm melted chocolate had soaked into Lanceling Ploverdew’s clothes. It had covered every inch of his skin. It had left his hair standing up in little chocolate thickets. Now, in the cold air of the cellar, it was cooling down. And as it cooled, it hardened. The world’s finest and most evil sweet maker was completely stuck in a thick chocolate shell, an utterly delicious one-man tailor-made prison.

  “I aaay oooo aaaaaa!” he growled between rigid lips.

  “Should we help him?” asked Eddy.

  “Definitely not,” said the Penguin.

  “But he could be stuck in there for ever.”

  “I don’t think so. Look.”

  As they watched, Ploverdew forced the tip of his pink tongue out between his teeth, and began to lick round his chocolate-coated mouth.

  “But by the time he eats his way out, we’ll be long gone,” said the Penguin. “Move it.”

  “Hang on a moment,” said the Captain. “Is it just me, or does anyone else want to pull that lever and find out what ka-BLAMMO! is?”

  “It’s just you,” said the Penguin, pushing through the door and back into the shop. “Let’s grab the goodies and go.”

  The Crew picked up a large purple box of chocolates from the counter.

  “They look lovely,” she said. “Who would like a taste?”

  “Promise me,” said the Penguin, “that you three will never, ever, try one of these sweets.”

  “Why?” asked the Crew. “What could be the harm in that?”

  “You really don’t remember what happened in here, do you?” asked the Penguin.

  “Not a thing,” said Eddy.

  “I’ll fill you in on the way back to the ship,” said the Penguin. The bell on the door jangled as they stepped out into the street. “It’s an exciting story about an incredibly brave and heroic Penguin.”

  But they were going to have to wait to hear it – because what they found outside froze the words in his beak.

  The market of rare and exotic goods had been devastated. It looked like a herd of angry buffalo had stampeded through. A herd of angry buffalo driving steamrollers.

  The stalls had been overturned, their wares scattered and trampled across the cobbled quayside. Tiny orange berries and bright blue bananas were pulped into puddles. Floppy-eared ducks scuttled about on feathered paws, pecking at crumbs of sweetly spiced cakes. And all around the stallholders sat on the ground, cowering and silent. With their underpants over their heads.

  “What happened?” said the Crew.

  “You mean, who happened,” said the Captain. “Listen!”

  From out
at sea came the faint but unmistakable BOOM BOOM of The Scavenger sailing off to spoil someone else’s day.

  Eddy recognized a long yellow coat – though last time he had seen it the man wearing it hadn’t been hiding his face under a pair of purple pants.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Buffalo angry of herd stampeding a like was it,” the man answered, almost sobbing. “Everyone at shouting brute horrible a by led.”

  “And then he ordered you to put your underpants on your head and say everything backwards.”

  “Week the of day favourite my was Wednesday,” the man added sadly.

  “It’s okay,” said Eddy. “They’ve gone now.”

  “Sure you are?” asked the man.

  “Really sure,” said Eddy.

  The man pulled the pants from his head. He blinked in the sunlight, and then began to pick up the bright white hens’ teeth that lay scattered around him.

  “He asked if we’d seen a cow,” said the man.

  “The cow again?” said the Captain. “And had you?”

  “Yes. Earlier. But by the time he asked us it had gone. And when he couldn’t find it he got angry.”

  “I don’t know what this cow business is about,” said the Captain. “But I do know that when Barracuda Bill gets angry he’s even more dangerous than usual. Let’s just hope we can steer well clear of him from now on.”

  “…and you all woke up with no idea what you were doing.” Back on board The Codcake, the Penguin finished explaining what had happened in the evil sweet shop.

  “So if it hadn’t been for you,” said Eddy, “we’d still be stuck in there.”

  “You were the hero of the hour,” said the Crew.

  “I like the sound of that,” said the Penguin. “I think I’ve found my perfect role. The brave and handsome hero. The great guy who the ordinary people thank for saving them.”

  “Thank you, Pinwing,” said the Captain.

  “Don’t mention it,” said the Penguin. “I don’t mean that, obviously. Do mention it, as often as you like. Or even as often as I like. You know, this is the first time I’ve ever felt properly appreciated. I think this must be what it’s like to be happy.”

  “You mean you’ve never been happy?” said the Crew.

  “There was a Thursday at the Ocean Park,” said the Penguin. “One of our keepers slipped on a stray herring and fell over. We all sat on him. That was about as good as it got. And speaking of herring, I’m off to catch dinner.” He slipped over the side of the ship.

  The Crew pulled the box of chocolates out of her rucksack.

  “That’s the third item for our quest successfully collected,” she said.

  “And the map said that we had to collect four things to show we were worthy of winning our prize,” said Eddy. “So that’s only one more to go.”

  “Let’s take these chocolates over to the map so we can find out what the last challenge is,” said the Captain. “And then we’d best put them away safely.”

  The Crew pulled two padlocks out of her big red rucksack.

  “We can lock them away in your chest, Captain, dearie. If you and I each have one of the keys, we won’t be able to break in and try them if we’re tempted again.”

  “How do you manage to be so organized?” asked Eddy.

  “It’s experience,” said the Crew. “A lifetime of it.”

  “I wish my gran was like you. She’s had loads of experience too, but it just seems to have worn her down.”

  “None of us can choose how we get old, dear. I’m just lucky that I can still get on with my life. Although I didn’t have much of a life to get on with before I came on this adventure.”

  The chocolates had an immediate effect on the map. Eddy read the new words that scrolled out across it.

  “It’s real treasure this time,” he exclaimed. “It says,

  “Rubies were Grungeybeard’s favourites,” said the Captain. “He had a ruby ring for every finger. And on the biggest of them he had a skull engraved with a letter ‘G’ in one of its eyeholes. But I reckons this will be difficult. I don’t like the name of that island. And I don’t care for the look of that castle.”

  The drawing on the map showed a stout-walled stronghold protected by a moat and drawbridge.

  “In fact,” added the Captain, “I don’t see how it could be more difficult.”

  “Look,” said Eddy, “there are more words appearing.”

  “Ah,” said the Captain. “So that’s how it could be more difficult. Let’s make sure to get a good night’s sleep and keep our wits about us when we get there tomorrow. We were slapdash today. We should have found out about Ploverdew before we went charging in.”

  “But it all worked out in the end,” said the Crew, “thanks to the Penguin.”

  “I heard that,” said the Penguin, who had clambered back on board with a pile of sleek silver fish. “Say it again. Applaud if you feel like it.”

  “The map shows a creek running up to the middle of the island near some woods,” said the Captain. “We’ll break out the rowing boat and come at the castle from there. There’s three ways with walls – over, under or through. I’ll decide which way is best when I’ve had a good look and a good think.”

  “Don’t forget you’ve got me with you,” said the Penguin. “The hero. I reckon I’m ready for anything that island can throw at us.”

  But he wasn’t. No one was.

  “Remember, everybody,” the Captain ordered, “keep your eyes peeled and shout out at the first smell of a monster.”

  “All I can smell is fish.” Eddy sniffed the air as he rowed the little boat up the creek.

  “We can all smell fish, dearie,” said the Crew. “Which is not surprising because we all smell of fish. That’s what eating it three times a day does for you. And of course you, Captain, are particularly pungent after Barracuda Bill pelted you with all those fish guts.”

  “Enough chatter,” said the Captain. “Watch out for danger signs.”

  The creek cut through a sunny meadow dotted with flowers. They passed a dandelion patch, where rabbits flopped and lolloped. They swished under a weeping willow, where blue and orange birds swooped. They stepped ashore by a patch of tall grass, where purple butterflies flitted and fluttered. They tied their boat to a bleached wooden post, on which was nailed a board painted with bright red letters that said: DANGER!

  “We’ve found one,” said Eddy.

  “Best take a good look round before we make a move,” said the Captain.

  The Crew pulled a pair of binoculars from her rucksack and handed them to him.

  “Twin telescopes. Very neat,” said the Captain. He scanned their surroundings.

  “I can’t see any monsters,” he said. “Hang on. Back along the creek. Can you see what I’m seeing?”

  He passed the binoculars to Eddy.

  “That’s really odd,” said Eddy. “I wouldn’t have thought you could even get a cow into a canoe, let alone teach it how to paddle. Do you think that’s the cow that Barracuda Bill is after?”

  “Could be,” said the Captain. “And if it is, I want to know what it’s up to.” He started waving in the cow’s direction. “Hey! You! Mooo!”

  “That’s done it,” said the front end of the cow. “They’ve spotted us. I told you that this disguise only blends in when we’re on land.”

  “It’s the only one we’ve got,” said the back end. “You want to dress up as a giant squid, you get the sewing machine out.”

  “Oh, stop arguing and keep paddling.”

  The cow began to turn the canoe clumsily and head for the far bank of the creek.

  “Let’s get after it,” the Penguin urged heroically.

  “Should we follow it?” asked Eddy. “Or head straight for the castle and the ruby ring?”

  Before the Captain could answer, a sudden cry stopped him dead.

  “Halt! Qui va là? Who goes there?” a shrill voice demanded.

  “Who s
aid that?” asked the Captain. There was no sign of the owner of the voice.

  “I asked first,” it replied.

  “Perhaps the monsters are invisible,” said the Penguin, suddenly sounding rather less heroic.

  “Friend or foe?” asked the voice.

  “I can’t answer that if I don’t know who you are,” the Captain replied.

  “So, you refuse to identify yourselves. En garde!”

  “How can I ‘en garde’ when I can’t see you?”

  “Here we are,” said the mystery voice somewhere near his right ear. “Before I make you wish you had never been born, allow me to introduce myself. I am the Chevalier François Cabernet Lalande-de-Pomerol, and this is Plonque, mon ami and companion in blood.”

  “Bonjour!” said a second tiny voice.

  “We are the Raisins of Death! Attack!”

  Eddy saw two tiny blobs leap from the top of the danger sign, and land on the Captain’s hat.

  “Ha ha!” the two voices cried together, as the raisins began to jump up and down.

  “Do not bother to beg for mercy, dog!” the Chevalier yelled.

  “Fair enough,” said the Captain.

  The raisins jumped up and down some more.

  “He’s a big one,” said Plonque, panting slightly. “It would be easier if he took his hat off. Do you think we could ask him?”

  “Courage, mon brave, and alley-oop!” replied the Chevalier. And he began to jump higher and harder.

  “I think,” said Plonque, “I need a bit of a rest.”

  They stopped jumping.

  “The Raisins of Death?” asked Eddy.

  “Indeed,” said the Chevalier. “The most feared and fruity assassins in all the island.”

  “Oui. That’s us,” said Plonque.

  “And how does that work, then?” asked the Captain.

  “We jump on your head till it breaks and – poof! – you are dead,” explained the Chevalier. “So! Now you are afraid – no?”

  “Not really, no,” said the Captain.

  “He has spirit, this one,” said Plonque. “Not to mention a very thick head.”

  “We haven’t got time for all this,” said the Captain. “We’ve got to get to the Emperor’s castle.”