Atticus Claw Goes Ashore (4 page)

‘Then once they’ze gone, we’ll go and rescue Fishhook ourselves!’ Mr Tucker said cheerfully. ‘Meanwhile I’ll hide this!’ He picked up the message and pushed it back into the bottle.

Atticus watched it disappear. He recognised the skull and crossbones emblem on the message now. It was the Jolly Roger: the pirate flag. Atticus felt his fur prickle. No wonder Mr Tucker knew so much about pirates! Atticus had finally figured it out. His suspicions had been right!
Fishhook Frank was a pirate. He and Mr Tucker had been best friends.
That could only mean one thing.

Mr Tucker had once been a pirate too!

4

‘Melons for sale! Melons for sale!’

In Egypt, Jimmy Magpie and his gang were having a horrible time. The three black-and-white birds were each tethered to Zenia Klob’s squeaky melon cart by a leather strap around one foot. (Normally Zenia Klob had a squeaky wheelie trolley but since she’d been in hiding she had a squeaky melon cart instead.)

Their magpie mates, Pig, Wally and Gizzard, had escaped when the villains fled from the plague of locusts. But unluckily for Jimmy, Thug and Slasher, Ginger Biscuit had pinned them with his ferocious claws before they could get away.

‘Melons for sale! Two for a pound!’ Zenia shouted. She was dressed in a djellaba so that the
Egyptian police wouldn’t see her. It covered everything from her short wiry grey hair to her big army boots. The only things visible were her black beady eyes and a couple of hairpins that poked out from under her headdress. The hairpins were covered in sleeping potion. They were Zenia’s favourite weapon from her days as a Russian KGB agent.

The magpies perched in a line on the rear edge of the cart beside the wall. The cart was parked in a busy market in an even busier town. The market was a labyrinth of narrow streets and twisting alleyways. It had been the magpies’ home for the last few months, during which time they’d eaten nothing but melon.

‘Lunchtime, birdies!’ Zenia chopped one of the melons in half with a big knife and offered it to the magpies. ‘Vot vould you like, Biscuit?’ she crooned.

Ginger Biscuit was lying on a soft camelskin rug in a basket next to the stall. He yawned and stretched lazily. Then he lifted a paw in the air and popped out his claws one by one – POP. POP. POP. POP. – and pretended to grab at something. ‘Rrrrrr,’ he said.

‘You mean rrrrrrrat,’ Zenia Klob said. Ginger Biscuit loved rat. It was his favourite food, except for the stomach, which he spat out. ‘I told you, I’m out of rat. You ate the last one yesterday.’

‘Myaw!’ Ginger Biscuit rolled over so that his back was towards Zenia.

‘Don’t sulk, my orange angel of darkness,’ Zenia sighed. Ginger Biscuit was always grumpy when she ran out of rat. ‘I’ll get you something else. How about a nice piece of goat?’

Ginger Biscuit twisted his head in Zenia’s direction and gave her an evil look.

‘Okay, steak then. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She hurried off.

‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA.’ As soon as she had gone the magpies started chattering angrily.

‘How come you get steak when all we get is melon?’ Slasher complained. Slasher was a thin magpie with a hooked foot. He was even thinner after living on a diet of melon for three months. He sniffed. A delicious smell of food came from some of the other market stalls. His beak watered.

‘Because, Slasher, I’m an orange angel of
darkness and you’re a brainless bird.’ Ginger Biscuit sat up, took off his collar and started dipping the studs in a bottle of Zenia’s sleeping potion.

‘I hate melon!’ Thug moaned. Thug had once been fat with a raggedy tail. Now he was less fat although his tail was more raggedy than ever. ‘I want worms.’

‘So do I, Thug,’ Slasher sighed. ‘But you can’t have worms, just melon. Not until we get out of here, anyway.’

‘And there’s not much chance of that!’ Ginger Biscuit placed his collar over the back of the basket to dry and lay down again. He laughed. ‘Remember what happened the last time you tried to escape?’

Thug and Slasher glanced at one another.

‘That was your fault,’ Thug said.

‘No it wasn’t, it was yours!’ Slasher protested.

‘No, it was yours,’ Thug squawked.

Slasher scowled at him. ‘It was Jimmy’s idea!’ The words were out of Slasher’s beak before he could stop them.

Thug looked horrified. No one criticised Jimmy, unless they wanted their head pecked.

Jimmy Magpie was tethered the other side of
Thug. He was bigger than the other two magpies and his feathers were glossier. His black tail had a greenish hue and there were flashes of blue in his wings. His eyes glittered. ‘What did you say?’ he asked coldly.

‘Nothing, Boss,’ Slasher gulped.

‘It’s lucky for you, Slasher, I can’t quite reach you,’ Jimmy said, straining at the strap. ‘Or you’d have a hooked beak as well as a hooked foot. That way I could be sure you’d keep it shut.’

‘Yes, Boss. Sorry, Boss,’ Slasher muttered. He was very glad Jimmy couldn’t reach him. Being punched by Jimmy was like flying into a window: you didn’t see it coming and it hurt a lot.

‘Well, whoever’s idea it was to try and escape by hiding inside the melons, you’ve got to admit it was pretty dumb!’ Ginger Biscuit chortled. ‘I thought I’d never stop laughing when Zenia sliced one open and nearly chopped Thug’s head off!’

‘Yeah, ha ha!’ Thug said bitterly. ‘Very funny, I’m sure.’

‘And the state of your feathers!’ Ginger Biscuit sniggered. ‘Who’d have thought melon juice was so sticky? You looked like you’d been swimming in snot.’

‘Tell him to stop making fun of us, Boss,’ Thug said plaintively. ‘It’s snot fair.’

Jimmy’s glittering eyes moved over Ginger Biscuit with contempt. ‘You’re beginning to remind me a lot of Atticus Claw,’ he said quietly. ‘The way you lie about, sneering.’

Ginger Biscuit got up. ‘I’m nothing like Claw,’ he snarled. ‘He’s a traitor: a disgrace to cat burgling.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘He thinks he’s better than us now he’s a police cat. He thinks he’s cool just cos he’s got a shiny badge and stopped us raiding a tomb full of treasure. Well he’s not!’ Ginger Biscuit bared his teeth. ‘Next time I see him, he’s dead.’

Jimmy Magpie blinked. ‘That’s what you said when he stopped us stealing the crown jewels,’ he remarked. ‘And it didn’t turn out too well then.’

‘Next time will be different,’ Ginger Biscuit growled. ‘Wait and see. Instead of a camel rug I’ll have a cat one. And I’ll use that handkerchief of his to spit rat guts into.’

‘Not so fast, Ginger-chops,’ Thug said. ‘We’ve got a few plans of our own for Atticus Claw when we get back to Littleton-on-Sea.’

‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA!’

The magpies chattered excitedly. The thought of Littleton-on-Sea cheered them. But not as much as the thought of what they planned to do to Atticus Claw when they arrived. Thinking up horrible ways to get their revenge was how Thug and Slasher made it through the day.

‘We’re gonna get the crows in to beak him up,’ Thug boasted.

‘Then the jackdaws are gonna drop a brick on his head,’ Slasher explained.

‘Then the jays are gonna pull out his claws out so that Jimmy can make them into a knuckle-duster,’ Thug chuckled.

‘Then we’ll use his tail to patch up the nest,’ Slasher sniggered.

‘And we’ll make the rest of him into a nest snuggler,’ Thug finished.

‘Sure. But first you’ve got to get out of here,’ Ginger Biscuit yawned. ‘And I’ve already told you, there’s not much chance of that.’

‘What does Zenia want to keep us for anyway?’ Slasher grumbled. ‘She doesn’t need us any more.’

‘Because she doesn’t want you singing your heads off to the fuzz,’ Ginger told him. ‘Anyway, you go back to Littleton-on-Sea and Inspector Cheddar will arrest you again.’

‘I hate that bloke,’ Thug grumbled.

‘And his cheesy kids,’ Slasher spat.

‘You’ll end up back in Her Majesty’s Prison for Bad Birds.’

Slasher pulled a face. ‘That place was torture!’

‘It was better than this,’ Thug said gloomily. ‘At least we didn’t have to clean out Zenia’s poo bucket. Only Jimmy’s.’

‘Here ve are!’ Zenia returned with a plateful of chopped steak. She placed it in front of Ginger Biscuit.

Just then two men approached the stall. One had no teeth. The other had no hair. They both wore eye patches. One of the men wore a long blue velvet jacket with lace at the sleeves.

‘Look at the buttons on that!’ Thug regarded them longingly. ‘They’re all shiny.’

‘Ahoy there, matey!’ the one with no teeth said.

Zenia Klob rounded on them. ‘It’s Ms, not matey!’ she screeched. ‘Vot do you vant? I got
melons, two for an Egyptian pound.’

‘How about three for a doubloon?’ One of the men produced a gold coin from his pocket.

Zenia snatched it and raised it to the light to get a better look. ‘Vere did you get this?’ she demanded greedily.

The man snatched it back. ‘Never you mind. We don’t want any melon anyway. We want your parrots.’

‘What parrots?’ Thug looked about.

‘I think he means us,’ Jimmy Magpie said. His eyes gleamed. ‘Quick boys, start squawking!’

‘Why?’ Slasher whispered.

‘Cos this might be our ticket out of here!’ Jimmy hissed. ‘These clowns think we’re parrots! Zenia wants their money. If she sells us, we can escape!’

‘Oh yeah!’ Thug said. ‘That’s brilliant, that is, Jimmy.’

‘Squawk, squawk!’ the magpies cried. ‘Squawk, squawk!’

‘Shut it, birdies,’ Zenia Klob cried. ‘Or I’ll hairpin you!’

The magpies fell silent.

‘How much?’ the man with the jacket asked.

‘Thirty doubloons for a pair,’ Zenia said.

‘Ten,’ the man countered.

‘Tventy,’ Zenia came back.

The man hesitated. ‘What do you think, Tony?’ he asked his friend. ‘This one looks pretty mangy.’ He prodded Thug with a fat finger.

‘Who are you calling mangy?’ Thug cried. ‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka! Oomph!’

Jimmy punched Thug in the crop. ‘Don’t blow our cover!’ he hissed. ‘Or you’re on poo bucket duty for the rest of the year. Keep squawking!’

‘Pam wanted three,’ the other man replied.

‘Who’s Pam?’ Slasher whispered.

‘A little girl, I should think,’ Jimmy said. ‘That’s why they’re buying us. As a gift. For a little girl! How cute! I can’t wait to make her miserable by escaping.’ He put on a baby voice. ‘Boo hoo. Where are my parrots, Daddy?’ His voice changed back to normal. ‘Oh guess what, they’ve gone!’

‘You’re really mean, Boss!’ Thug said admiringly.

‘Yeah, you’re the worst!’ Slasher agreed.

‘Thanks!’ Jimmy looked pleased.

‘Squawk! Squawk!’

‘Squawk! Squawk!’

‘Tell you vot,’ Zenia said. She undid the magpies’ straps and held them up by the feet. ‘You can have the mangy one for free.’

‘I’m getting dizzy!’ Thug dangled upside down with Jimmy and Slasher. ‘All the blood’s rushing to my brain.’

‘You don’t have a brain,’ Jimmy told him.

‘Done!’ the man said. He handed the money over. His eye fell on Ginger Biscuit. ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider selling your cat, would you?’

‘Never!’ Zenia Klob shrieked. ‘He’s not for sale!’ She shoved Jimmy, Thug and Slasher into a wicker cage and banged the door shut. ‘Especially not to pirates.’ She handed the cage to Tony.

Thug and Slasher looked at one another, aghast.

‘Did she say what I think she said?’ Thug gulped.

‘Pirates!’ Ginger Biscuit guffawed. ‘Nice work, guys! Have fun!’

‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’

The pirates walked off, swinging the cage.

Zenia Klob waited until they rounded a corner. ‘Qvik!’ she said. ‘Get after them, Biscuit. See vere they go.’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘Pirates!’ she chuckled, ‘I’ve got a feeling they vill lead us to some treasure.’

5

A few days later, in the ballroom at Toffly Hall, Atticus was watching the final stages of the World Beard-Jumper Competition with Michael and Callie. So far, to Atticus’s relief, there hadn’t been ‘any trouble’. None of the grown-ups (apart from Mr Tucker, of course), had spotted that the people dressed as pirates really
were
pirates. And the pirates hadn’t done anything bad, at least nothing that Atticus was aware of anyway. Even so, Atticus couldn’t wait for the competition to finish. He still wasn’t sure if he’d made the right decision not to let the children tell Inspector Cheddar.

‘Ah, Atticus,’ Inspector Cheddar strode up. ‘There you are. We seem to have lost a few silver
teaspoons, I wondered if you knew what had happened to them?’

Atticus pretended not to have heard. The pirates must have stolen them! He felt terrible. If Inspector Cheddar found out the truth, he’d take away his police-cat sergeant badge. And Callie and Michael would get into trouble too.

Two of the pirates barged past. One of them had a wooden leg like Mr Tucker, with raggedy trousers cut off at the knee. The other one had a handkerchief tied round his head decorated with the Jolly Roger, and no shoes. Both had long, straggly beard-jumpers.

‘Dear oh dear!’ Inspector Cheddar chuckled. ‘I’ve never seen such smelly old costumes. Most of them look like they haven’t been washed for years. If I’d hired that for a fancy-dress party I’d want my money back. I must ask them which shop they went to and report it to Trading Standards.’ He started after them.

Oh no!
Atticus looked desperately at the children.
Now what were they going to do?

Just then Mr Tucker waved frantically in their direction.

‘Dad, it’s time for the prize-giving,’ Michael ran after Inspector Cheddar and pulled his sleeve. ‘The judges are ready. They need you on stage!’ Mr Tucker had asked Inspector Cheddar to give out the prizes, mainly to keep him out of the way so he didn’t decide to do some detective work amongst the guests.

Atticus breathed a sigh of relief.
Just in time!

‘Okay,’ Inspector Cheddar straightened his cap. ‘I’ll see you later. Atticus, keep an eye on the forks.’ He made his way towards the stage to join Mr Tucker, Mrs Tucker, Mrs Cheddar and the judges.

Atticus glanced at the clock. It was half past five. The competition was supposed to finish by six.
Half an hour to go
. He sighed. If at that moment he’d been able to summon the mermaid from the Casket of Desires, he would have wished for it to be six o’clock already so that nothing went wrong!

The Casket of Desires
. That was another thing worrying Atticus.
What if the pirates found out about Fishhook Frank’s message?
Mr Tucker said he’d hidden it in a safe place but was anywhere safe when your house was full of pirates? Atticus wasn’t sure. And he wasn’t sure about Mr Tucker’s plan to rescue Fishhook Frank either. The plan, if you
could call it that, was to tell Inspector Cheddar and Mrs Tucker all about the message in the bottle when the beard-jumper competition was over, then set sail to rescue Frank and get to him before a pirate did. It sounded simple enough but Mrs Tucker would hit the roof if she found out that Mr Tucker had once been a pirate. Not to mention the fact that Atticus had never been sailing before or that they didn’t even know where Fishhook Frank was. So it wasn’t simple at all! Sometimes Atticus couldn’t help thinking life had been a lot easier when he was a cat burglar.

‘Don’t worry, Atticus,’ Callie whispered kindly.

‘It’ll be okay as long as the pirates don’t steal any more cutlery.’ Michael gave him a stroke.

Atticus wished he felt so confident about it. He had a bad feeling that something was about to happen. His instinct was kicking in again.

‘And now for the moment youze all been waiting for,’ Mr Tucker took to the stage. ‘The judges have made their decision.’ He nodded
towards the back of the stage. The judges sat behind a table with the prizes on it. Mrs Tucker and Mrs Cheddar sat beside them. ‘Please welcome Inspector Ian Cheddar who will announce the winners of this year’s World Beard-Jumper Competition.’ There was a round of applause from the hall. Some of the pirates took the stolen teaspoons out of their pockets and banged them on their hooks.

Atticus saw Mrs Tucker’s forehead crinkle into a frown. Her eyes scanned the room. Mrs Tucker used to be a secret agent called Agent Whelk. She was very good at finding things out. Her eyes met Atticus’s. Atticus felt himself blush under his fur. Mrs Tucker was also very good at knowing when he was being naughty. He looked away.

Mr Tucker raised his hands for quiet. ‘And then my lovely wife, Edna, will hand out the prizes for the best-dressed pirate … er … I mean, the best pirate
costume
!’ Mrs Tucker gave her husband a sharp glance. Mr Tucker shifted uncomfortably. So did Atticus.
She definitely suspected something!

‘So, without further ado, I’ll hand over to
Inspector Cheddar.’ Mr Tucker shuffled behind the table to join the others.

Inspector Cheddar climbed the steps to the stage and stood in front of the microphone. He had a gold envelope in his hand.

‘Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen, children, fishermen …’ he sniggered ‘… and – er –
pirates
!’

There was silence in the hall.

Inspector Cheddar ripped open the envelope. ‘In third place, we have Hairy Mac. Come on up, Mac, there’s a bottle of Thumpers’ Traditional Beard Dye for you!’

Hairy Mac was one of Mr Tucker’s fishermen friends. Like the rest of the fishermen his beard-jumper was tucked into a pair of brightly coloured waterproof dungarees, which in turn were tucked into a pair of brightly coloured rubber boots. There was a smattering of applause as Hairy Mac went to collect his prize. Some of the pirates booed.

‘In second place, we have Short John Silver. Where are you, John?’ Inspector Cheddar peered out across the sea of bristly faces. ‘Ah, there you
are!’ A tiny pirate in a dirty coat pushed his way through the crowds. His beard-jumper brushed the floor. He had to pick it up in his arms to stop himself tripping over it.

‘Impressive!’ Inspector Cheddar remarked. He bent down to give Short John Silver his prize. ‘A box set of Thumpers’ Traditional Beard Wax.’

Short John Silver hobbled off to whistles of approval from the pirates.

‘And in first place we have …’ Inspector Cheddar paused.

The crowd fell silent.

‘… our very own Mr Herman Tucker!’

The fishermen cheered. So did the pirates.

Atticus thought he knew why that was. It was because Mr Tucker had been a fisherman
and
a pirate. He wondered if Mrs Tucker had noticed anything strange about it. He didn’t dare look at her.

‘Well done, Mr Tucker!’ The children shouted. Atticus purred weakly. He was pleased for Mr Tucker but all he really cared about was getting to home time. He glanced at the clock.
Nearly six. Thank goodness!

Mr Tucker limped across the stage to accept his prize. It was a deluxe spa day at Thumpers’ Traditional Beard Spa. He beamed with pride.

‘Congratulations, Mr Tucker!’ Inspector Cheddar led the final round of applause. ‘And now I’d like to hand over to Mrs Tucker to give out the fancy-dress prizes.’ He stepped away from the microphone.

Suddenly there was a terrible roar from the back of the ballroom. ‘Not so fast, you scurvy landlubbers!’

Atticus looked round.

A huge man dressed all in black stood at the entrance to the ballroom. He wore a long coat, breeches and boots that pulled up over his knees. Beneath his three-pointed hat a mass of curly black hair had been swept into a ponytail. Over one eye he wore an eye patch. But the most striking thing about the newcomer was his beard-jumper. It tumbled around his chin in a thick tangle of wool and bristle so that it appeared as if his very jumper had been knitted from his whiskers (or the other way around).

Atticus stared at him in horror. It had to be him:
the only pirate Mr Tucker hadn’t sent an invitation to, the only one who would cause trouble if he turned up uninvited, which he just had.

It was Captain Black Beard-Jumper!