The Forgotten Map (15 page)

Whisker had to escape. But the way forward was blocked, the way back was blocked, the walls were unscaleable and below him was solid stone.

As Whisker's eyes darted around in panic, he noticed the two wooden doors beside him. His heart leapt – he'd been saved by an unlocked door once that evening.
Could it happen again?

His heart sank. The doors were chained together and fastened with a huge brass padlock. They were old, but they were much too thick to break down. He would never get through without a sharp axe, a charging rhino or Horace's skeleton key.

He absentmindedly slipped his paw into his pocket and felt the smooth shape of the Gourmet Gunpowder jar. For a moment the vision of a grand explosion flashed before his eyes.

Hastily, he pulled his paw out again. He had no matches, and Cleopatra was hardly going to offer him a light.

Whisker dropped his gaze to the doorstep in defeat. He felt like curling up on the smooth block of stone and pretending he was invisible. But as he stared into the dark shadows, he noticed something just as good as a mythical cloak of invisibility – he saw a real way to disappear. It didn't involve digging through stone and it didn't involve blowing a hole in the doors.

The hole was already there.

Purple Smoke

Trying not to reveal his discovery to the watching cats, Whisker pretended to wipe his forehead, covering his eyes from sight. As he peered back at the weathered door on the left, he noticed its base had rotted away, leaving a small hole above the doorstep. The space was too narrow for a cat to squeeze through, but large enough for a rat.

Whisker lowered his paw and glanced back at Cleopatra. She was still looking in his general direction, but the bored look on her face told him she had no concerns about him escaping.

Whisker slowly edged towards Rat Bait until their backs were almost touching.

‘I've got a plan,' Whisker whispered.

‘Hey?' Rat Bait grunted as a distant meow filled the air.

‘There's a hole in the corner of the left door,' Whisker murmured. ‘I think we can squeeze through … and I think we'd better hurry.'

Warily, Whisker glanced over his shoulder to see if Sally was watching them. She wasn't. She appeared to be staring up at the moon with the same bored look as Cleopatra.

‘I be seein' the hole,' Rat Bait said softly, patting his round belly. ‘Ye will fit. Let's be hopin' the wood's soft enough for me to barge through.'

‘What are you two ratbags mumbling about?' Cleopatra hissed.

‘Us? Um … nothing,' Whisker lied.

‘Rubbish!' Cleopatra snapped. ‘You're plotting something. I can see it in your eyes.'

Whisker longed to look away from the accusing green eyes but knew he must reveal nothing and stared back in stone-faced silence.

‘There's nowhere you can go,' Sally purred, stretching her claws. ‘But don't worry. Our party will be starting shortly, and we love to have guests.'

There were more meows from beyond the alley, but this time they were much closer.

‘That be a kind invite, Sally,' Rat Bait replied. ‘I‘m partial to a party as ye know, but it's about time for us to escape.'

Whisker was aghast.
What was the old fool thinking?

He was about to elbow him in the ribs, when Rat Bait whispered, ‘As soon as they be lookin' away, dive for the hole.'

Whisker bit his lip and tried to relax his tail. He had no idea what Rat Bait was playing at but he had no other choice. He reached his paw into his pocket and gripped the jar. He knew he might need it if something went wrong.

‘And how exactly do you plan on escaping?' Sally sniggered.

‘That be simple,' Rat Bait answered. ‘Through a hole o' course.'

Whisker felt betrayed.

‘And where would this hole be?' Cleopatra purred.

‘There be two,' Rat Bait grinned. ‘One behind Cleopatra an' one behind Sally. We'll take the hole nearest the slowest cat.'

Immediately the two cats fell for Rat Bait's brilliant bait. They whirled around to protect the imaginary holes, and at the same moment, Whisker leapt for the real hole in the door. With the jar securely in his paw, he slid through the gap on his stomach. Rat Bait was directly behind him.

Before Whisker's tail was even through the gap, Rat Bait crashed his upper body into the tight space, sending damp wood splinters flying into the darkness.

There were furious hisses outside as the cats realised they'd been tricked. Whisker grabbed Rat Bait's arm with his free paw and pulled with all his might until the round belly of the captain popped through the hole.

Rat Bait howled in pain as Cleopatra slashed at his tail with her claws and Sally made a desperate lunge for the hole. Whisker rolled aside as her bony head appeared through the narrow gap. She snarled in rage and snapped her teeth in an attempt to squeeze herself through. With a hard
THUD
, her shoulders hit the door and she moved no further.

Neither Whisker nor Rat Bait waited to see what the cats would do next. They scrambled to their feet and raced into the dimness of a huge deserted warehouse. Moonlight streamed through the high entrance windows on the far side, illuminating the shapes of shipping crates, wooden barrels and a multitude of tripping hazards. Pulleys, ropes and large hooks hung from the high ceiling.

Whisker glanced over his shoulder. Sally's head had disappeared from the hole but loud clangs came from the door. The enraged shrieks of the two female cats were now mixed with deep male voices. One of them was Sabre's.

The rest o' the crew have arrived,' Rat Bait exclaimed. ‘Hurry! The lock's no match for six sharp swords.'

Whisker gulped in horror. ‘S-s-six of them.' He looked around in desperation. ‘We need a safe place to hide.'

Rat Bait pointed to his bleeding tail and snorted, ‘There's no hidin' with a trail o' blood leadin' them to us. We need to escape the island before they trap us again.'

‘What about the map?' Whisker gasped. ‘We can't leave it here.'

‘It be not on this island,' Rat Bait said, pulling Whisker past a pile of empty crates. ‘I ain't that daft in the head to bring anythin' o' value to this place.'

Whisker knew their only hope of escape was to reach the distant front entrance before Sabre and his carnivorous crew got to them first. He expected the front door would be chained and padlocked like the rear entrance.

He leapt over a broken lantern and felt a spark of hope tingle in his tail. Where there were lanterns, there were sure to be matches.

As he darted past a hauling cart, Whisker saw what he was looking for. Covered in a thick layer of dust lay an open box of matches. It was almost full. Whisker stuffed the jar of gunpowder into his pocket and picked up the matches.

‘Don't ye be stoppin',' Rat Bait hissed. ‘The cats be in the buildin'.'

He was right. Whisker heard the sounds of chains falling to the ground and cats scampering through the open doors. He turned on his heel and sprinted after Rat Bait.

‘I've got matches,' he panted, waving the box in the air. ‘We can blast our way out!'

‘Can't ye climb?' Rat Bait puffed, pointing to the front wall.

Whisker glanced up to see the ropes of a pulley dangling against the broken windows and felt annoyed he hadn't thought of that himself.

As Whisker and Rat Bait zigzagged towards the entrance, the sounds of the cats grew louder. Whisker made out the hissing voices of Sally to his left and Cleopatra to his right. Behind him came the angry snarls of Sabre, barking orders. ‘Prowler, search behind those barrels; Master Meow, follow Sally and cut them off if they double back; Furious Fur, stop your wheezing and secure the rear entrance.'

Whisker kept running. At any moment he expected a cat to leap out of the shadows and put an end to his frenzied hopes of escape.

He was about to discard the box of matches to free up his paw for fighting, when a desperate idea entered his mind. All around him lay wooden crates overflowing with packing straw and clay pots. Without giving it a second thought, he pulled out a match and struck it against the side of the box. It sparked for an instant and then went out.

‘Come on,' he mumbled, nearly colliding with a crate.

He tried a second match. This one blazed to life. Hastily, he thrust the lit match into the box and, with a hiss, the other matches began to light. He grabbed the jar of gunpowder from his pocket and threw both items into the nearest straw-filled crate.

Whisker didn't look back to see if the straw was alight. The flickering orange glow that bounced off the front wall gave him the answer – it was ablaze. Behind him, Whisker heard the angry hisses of the Cat Fish circling around the fire, and sprinted even faster.

Rat Bait was already clambering up the wall when Whisker reached the front entrance.

‘Climb!' Rat Bait barked.

As Whisker grabbed the nearest rope and prepared to climb he saw a flash of brown fur out of the corner of his eye. Before he had time to react, a powerful paw swept his feet from under him and he tumbled backwards.

He struggled to get up but sharp claws pinned him to the ground. Above him, fire reflected in two familiar green eyes.

‘You can't fool me twice in one night with your petty diversion tactics,' Cleopatra hissed in triumph. She looked up at Rat Bait, dangling in front of a window. ‘Move an inch and your little friend will have more holes in his shirt than a barrow load of Swiss cheese.'

Rat Bait froze on the rope.

‘I've got them!' Cleopatra cried. ‘Now who's hungry?'

There was a collective cheer as the Cat Fish scampered towards them.

Despite his predicament, Whisker still clung to one faint hope – the hope that a fragile glass jar filled with gunpowder could only withstand a raging fire for so long. Whisker took a deep breath and willed the jar to work its magic.

His wish came true.

With a mighty
KABOOM
, the jar exploded. Scorching purple flames threw Cleopatra off her feet and catapulted Rat Bait through the open window. His sword clanged to the stone floor, only inches from Whisker's head. Clay vases and pots flew through the air like meteors, smashing into the wall. Whisker lay rigid on the ground and waited for the torrent of flying projectiles to pass.

Eventually, the flames died down, the sound of breaking pots subsided and a heavy scent of lavender filled the air.

Whisker sat upright. All he could see was thick, purple smoke. It filled his mouth and nose with a pungent lavender fragrance and began to sting his eyes. He shut them tight, closed his mouth and began fumbling his way towards the rope.

He kicked something cold and sharp and winced as the blade of Rat Bait's scissor sword sliced into his toe. Trying not to cry out in pain, he picked up the sword and slid it into his belt. No one could stop him carrying a weapon this time.

Whisker found the rope and blindly climbed. The purple smoke concealed his escape, but as soon as it cleared he would be caught hanging helplessly in the air.