The Forgotten Map (20 page)

One by one, the remaining rats pulled their chairs into a tight huddle around Mr Tribble. Emmie was happy drawing with Pete's pencils but Eaton looked restless and asked if he could try out his new lantern on the deck.

‘Only for a few minutes,' Mr Tribble told him, ‘it's extremely late. And make sure you don't start a fire.'

Eaton disappeared through the doorway and Mr Tribble pointed to the map with his silver pen.

‘Gentle-rats, you are looking at the floor plan of a prison fortress built on the highest point of a rocky island. The gatehouse is reached via a twisting pathway that leads from the dock. Cannons are mounted on the dock tower and the prison walls. In addition, the four towers of the prison are armed with cauldrons of boiling oil.'

‘How wonderful for us,' Pete sniffled.

Mr Tribble went on, ‘The front entrance is protected by two wooden doors and a portcullis which lowers from above. Beyond the gatehouse is an open courtyard. You can see a small well to one side.' He tapped his pen on the map.

‘The eastern tower contains a ground floor holding cell where newly arriving prisoners have their portraits drawn. This tower contains the only staircase to the dungeons below. The dungeons are cut into the rock beneath the great hall and sealed off by thick doors halfway down the staircase.'

‘Is Madam Pearl in a dungeon or is she still in the holding cell?' Whisker asked.

‘Neither,' Mr Tribble replied. ‘Female prisoners are never kept with male prisoners. It's against the Governor's policy.' He pointed to the western tower. ‘She'll be in a cell above the storehouse and the arsenal level.'

‘Well load me into a cannon and blast me to the moon!' Horace exclaimed. ‘An entire floor filled with cannons and explosives. I'd like to see that.'

‘It's not a museum visit, you immature imbecile,' Pete hissed. ‘Next you'll want to have your portrait drawn next to a vat of boiling oil.'

‘I will not,' Horace huffed. ‘Besides, they only boil the oil when there's an attack.'

‘And you don't call our suicide mission an attack?' Pete shot back.

‘I'm afraid an attack would never succeed,' the Captain said calmly. ‘This will need to be a stealth operation. I presume there's only one way in and out?'

‘Not exactly,' Mr Tribble replied.

He pointed to two dotted lines in the outer dungeon wall. ‘This is a
Sally Port.
Sally is short for
sally forth
or
go out.
It is a small secret entrance found on many castles and used as an escape route. It's hidden by mangroves, as you can see on the map, and leads directly to the lower dungeon level. I doubt the prisoners even know it exists.'

‘A fat lot of good that will do us,' Pete scoffed. ‘Even if we could break the door down, the guards would simply seal off the dungeon and we would never reach Madam Pearl.'

‘We could start a prison riot,' Horace suggested.

The Captain shook his head. ‘We can't count on the prisoners' assistance. Madam Pearl has a reputation for being rather greedy and selfish. I doubt she has a single friend in or out of the prison.'

‘So where does that leave us?' Whisker asked, sensing the impossibility of the whole operation.

The Captain stood up from his chair and yawned. ‘I suggest we all get some sleep. We can't do much else until Ruby returns with our information.'

Without protest, Mr Tribble gathered the children together and the crew trudged off to bed.

The Captain's Plan

'Wake up, Whisker.'

Whisker opened his eyes and squinted at the silhouette of Horace standing next to his hammock. Soft lantern light streamed through the doorway. It was still night.

‘Get up quickly,' Horace said, shaking Whisker's arm. ‘The Captain's got a plan.'

Whisker rolled out of his hammock and lowered his feet to the floor. His toe stung, his body ached and his head throbbed.

‘How long did we sleep?' he mumbled.

‘Only a few hours,' Horace replied.

Whisker looked across the room with bleary eyes and saw the mammoth shape of Fred asleep in a hammock.

‘When did Fred get back?' he asked.

‘I'm not sure,' Horace said. ‘The Captain said not to wake him, but he wants us to start preparing.'

‘Preparing for what?' Whisker yawned. ‘Can't it wait ‘til the morning?'

‘There's not enough time,' Horace said, pulling him through the doorway. ‘Come on, he'll explain everything.'

Whisker and Horace found Pete and Mr Tribble waiting in the navigation room. With a clinking sound, the Captain entered the room and dropped a bulging money bag on the table.

‘That's the lot,' he said, ‘including the hidden stash.'

Pete nodded. ‘It should be enough to buy everything we need. It's a good thing there's a second hand book shop on Sea Shanty Island. We'd run short if we were buying new books.'

‘What have books got to do with a prison breakout?' Whisker asked, trying to comprehend what was going on.

The Captain sighed. ‘Let's start from the top. Ruby and Fred arrived back about an hour ago and are currently getting some much needed sleep. Ruby discovered two significant pieces of information. First, she heard from an off-duty soldier crab, in one of the less respectable taverns, that only three squads of the Blue Claw currently guard Prison Island. The Governor thought it was more important for his army to be out arresting pirates than sitting around babysitting the unfortunate souls who were already behind bars.'

‘Err … how many crabs are in a squad?' Whisker interrupted.

‘Good news,' the Captain said. ‘There are never more than fifteen crabs in a squad, so the total garrison on the island will be less than forty-five crabs.'

‘That still sounds like a lot,' Whisker gulped, remembering the stampede of crabs in the alley.

‘And they've got cannons and boiling oil,' Mr Tribble added.

‘Cannons and oil won't help them in hand-to-hand combat,' the Captain reassured him. ‘Besides, they won't all be in the one spot.' He pointed to the map. ‘One squad is manning the dock tower. One squad is guarding the prisoners and the third squad is spread around the gatehouse and the prison walls.'

‘It only takes one crab to raise the alarm,' Mr Tribble said sceptically.

The Captain acknowledged his concern. ‘That's where the second piece of information comes in handy. Ruby went snooping along the wharf and found a supply ship leaving for Prison Island tomorrow morning at 8 am. The crew consists of guinea pigs and burly mice. Ruby informed me that several mice will most definitely fall ill from a mysterious stomach bug and a few able-bodied volunteers will be needed to replace them.'

Pete plonked an empty bottle on the table and chuckled, ‘She's good, our Ruby.'

‘There's um … one problem,' Mr Tribble stammered. ‘You'll never pass yourselves off as mice, even strong wharf mice. Rats are much too big …' He paused for a moment. ‘Emmie keeps telling me I need to be more adventurous, so as a mouse, I'm happy to go along if you need my assistance. But don't for an instant think you can send the twins in to do your dirty work. It's too dangerous!'

The Captain spoke calmly, ‘Thank you, Mr Tribble. We could use your assistance on the supply ship. But rest assured that sending the children along was never on the agenda.'

Mr Tribble relaxed his shoulders and the Captain continued, ‘You are also correct to assume that fully grown rats are much too large to pass as mice, but two young rats and one with stunted growth might just work.'

Horace grinned at Whisker. ‘I'm in if you're in.'

Whisker nodded eagerly.

‘Marvellous,' the Captain declared. ‘We have our replacement crew.'

‘Ah … Captain?' Whisker muttered. ‘You still haven't explained the books.'

‘You're absolutely right, Whisker,' the Captain replied. ‘Now that we've sorted the personnel, it's time to reveal the plan. The idea came to me when I was examining the newspaper …'

Fourteen hours later, Whisker crouched on the deck of the supply ship and stared out at the approaching rock of Prison Island. For much of the journey he'd slept. The wind was favourable and the guinea pigs easily manoeuvred the sails without needing the assistance of the replacement mice. They would only be needed once the gruelling task of hauling cargo began.

As predicted, several mice were reportedly too ill to take the voyage, and conveniently four out-of-work ‘mice' wearing grey hooded coats and gumboots were found loitering around the jetty.

Whisker glanced across at Horace, pacing around the far side of the ship. His face and hook were concealed under a long, flowing coat. Ruby stood nearby on a high pile of barrels, while Mr Tribble tightened a rope on a two-wheeled cart filled with books.

As the northern cliff of the island loomed in front of him, Whisker shuddered to imagine spending the rest of his life inside the barren stone prison. If he failed, that would be his fate.

He tried to calm his nerves by focusing on the mangrove trees at the base of the cliff – hidden behind their muddy trunks lay the secret entrance.

As the ship rounded the island, Whisker heard two soft splashes in the water behind him. The closest guinea pig rushed to the side of the boat and peered overboard. He glared at Ruby and shook his paw.

‘Watch it, clumsy!' he scolded. ‘Two of your barrels just tumbled overboard.'

Ruby acted like nothing had happened.

‘Whoops,' she replied in an innocent voice. ‘I'm rather new at this.'

The guinea pig fell for her charm.

‘All right, Cupcake. I won't report you this time. Let's pretend it didn't happen. There's nothing we can do about it, anyway. Once those flour barrels hit the water they're as good as useless.'

‘Oooh, thank you, kind sir,' Ruby squealed. ‘You're such a sweetie! It won't happen again, I promise.'

‘Don't mention it, Cupcake,' the guinea pig blushed.

Without further mishap, the ship slid alongside the southern dock and the guinea pigs threw mooring ropes to the waiting crabs.

‘ATTENTION, SAILORS,' piped a soldier crab wearing a bright blue armband with a gold banana insignia. ‘You are now entering a restricted zone. By order of the illustrious Governor Cazban, all cargo must be inspected twice and cleared before it is permitted in the prison. The first inspection will take place on the dock, the second will be conducted at the top of the hill. Any questionable items will be confiscated and quarantined. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?'

‘Yes, Sergeant,' mumbled one of the guinea pigs, ‘It's always the same.'

‘Here are the cherries,' said a plump guinea pig, rolling the first barrel down the gangplank. ‘Will you be confiscating them as usual, Sergeant?'

‘Err … yes, that would probably be safest,' the Sergeant replied pompously. ‘I've heard the
cherry virus
is still quite prevalent in some parts.'