The Forgotten Map (27 page)

‘We can't,' Whisker blurted out, wildly waving the letter above his head. ‘We'll be sailing straight into a fleet of Claw-Of-War ships!'

‘What?' the Captain cried, snatching the letter from Whisker. ‘Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?'

‘I only just remembered I had it,' Whisker replied.

‘Never mind,' the Captain said, trying to restrain his temper. ‘We'll turn the
Apple Pie
around, sail through the Southern Passage and head for Freeforia. It may be the only safe haven we have while these cursed raids continue. We can lose the Cat Fish in the darkness if we hurry.'

‘Wh-what darkness,' Mr Tribble stammered. ‘The moon will be up shortly and full moon was only a few nights ago. The whole ocean will be lit up.'

‘That may be the case,' the Captain snapped, ‘but do you have a better suggestion?'

‘We could raise the white flag and surrender,' Mr Tribble said tentatively.

‘Rotten pies to surrendering,' Horace scoffed. ‘I say we ask Whisker, he always has an answer.'

A fifth flaming fur-ball hurtled towards them. It landed much closer to the ship, but transformed into a harmless soggy mess the moment it hit the water. As Whisker watched it disappear beneath the waves the simplest of answers came to him.

‘Flaming fur-balls are no match for water,' he said excitedly, ‘or for pelting rain drops.' He turned to the storm. ‘We can reach it … if we change course.'

There was a murmur of curious interest from the crew. The Captain had his doubts. ‘Unfortunately, Whisker, your proposal would involve sailing directly into the wind.'

More lightning lit up the sky.

‘They're getting closer,' Pete shouted from the wheel. ‘I need a decision soon, Captain, or we'll be burnt bread sticks!'

Whisker knew the Captain was right, they couldn't sail directly into the wind, but they could still reach the storm and escape.

‘We'll tack!' he cried. ‘We'll sail south-east and then change course once we're inside the storm.'

‘But that would mean heading straight for the Cat Fish,' Mr Tribble said in horror, ‘and hoping we cross their path before they ram into us.'

‘That's true,' Whisker agreed, ‘but where's the safest place to be during a sea battle?'

‘On land,' Mr Tribble moaned.

‘No!' Horace cried, ‘In front of the enemy's bow. Where there are no cannons.'

A sixth flaming fur-ball splashed into the ocean only metres from the
Apple Pie,
sending a wave of steamy saltwater onto the deck.

‘That's the last warning shot,' Pete screeched in panic. ‘With the next shot, we're done for! What's it to be?'

The Captain looked across at Whisker. Whisker knew it wasn't his decision, but he couldn't stop the tip of his tail pointing directly into the storm.

‘SOUTH-EAST, QUARTERMASTER,' the Captain bellowed.

‘Aye aye, Captain,' Pete screeched.

Once the decision was made, there was no going back. Pete spun the wheel to his right and the
Apple Pie
turned abruptly. It was not a moment too soon. An instant later, the
Silver Sardine's
cannons exploded in unison and four flaming fur-balls splashed into the very spot the ship had been headed.

The Captain clambered up to the helm, took the wheel from Pete and began barking orders: ‘Madam Pearl, get the children into the navigation room at once. Find me a map of the Aladryan coastline and locate a suitable place to anchor. Fred and Tribble, fill up a crab boat with anything heavy and prepare to push it overboard once we've crossed their path. Horace, Pete and Smudge, report to the gun deck. Any pies you don't shoot, I want dumped behind us. The more obstacles in the water, the better. Ruby and Whisker, you're responsible for the sails. All clear?'

The crew cheered a frantic, ‘Aye aye, Captain,' and ran to their stations.

Whisker glanced across at Ruby on the opposite side of the foremast. She finished tying a lanyard and looked up at him with a stern look of determination.

‘Secure?' she called out.

‘Secure,' he replied, giving his line a sharp tug.

The boom of cannons once more filled the air.

‘WHISKER!' the Captain yelled.

Whisker instinctively bent down to make sure he hadn't tied his tail to the rigging and felt a burning sensation pass over him.

He threw himself to the deck as a fresh wave of flaming fur-balls hurtled past, splashing into the water on the opposite side of the ship.

‘Nobody panic,' he cried, jumping to his feet and flicking a smouldering strand of cat fur from his shirt. ‘I'm alright.'

‘If you've finished playing dodge ball,' the Captain shouted, ‘I have a job for you. Is that training cannon still up here?'

Whisker glanced around and saw the cannon between the two masts. ‘Yes, Captain. It's here.'

‘Good,' the Captain boomed. ‘I want you to get rid of those fancy finned pies you've invented. Horace left them lying all over the deck.'

‘You do know they're designed for long range warning shots?' Whisker shouted over the rumble of thunder.

‘Who cares,' Ruby snapped. ‘They can put a hole in a sail, can't they? That's all that counts.'

With Ruby's assistance, Whisker heaved the cannon around to face the starboard side of the ship. The barrage of fur-balls ceased as the
Apple Pie
approached the bow of the
Silver Sardine.
With her size and speed, however, the armour-plated vessel was still on a path to ram them.

‘We're on a collision course!' Ruby yelled to the Captain. ‘Veer to the east or we'll never get past them.'

‘I can't risk turning,' the Captain bellowed, ‘or we'll lose the wind. We'll have to slow them down instead. Is the cannon ready?'

‘Almost,' Whisker cried, inserting a fuse. ‘What about the gun deck? They've had plenty of time to load.'

‘We've got all the long range pies up here,' Ruby said. ‘Horace won't fire until we're close enough to hit a target.'

Lightning flashed across the sky and the
Silver Sardine
shone in its metallic glory. To Whisker, it was as close as he wanted it to be. He saw the ship's fish-skeleton figurehead staring out with vacant eyes, he glimpsed the one-eyed sneer of the ginger cat on the flag, and he saw Sabre standing on the bow of the boat with his cheese knife drawn. Whisker was certain the furious captain was staring straight at him. Even with the energising effects of the medicine, the sight of Sabre sent a sick feeling of dread through his entire body.

Struggling to calm his nerves, Whisker filled the cannon with gunpowder and inserted a pie. He adjusted the angle and aimed the cannon at the front sail of the
Silver Sardine.
Without thinking, his tail struck a match behind his back and dangled it close to the fuse.

Ruby gasped in shock. Whisker pulled away.

‘One last safety check, I know…' he said anxiously.

He raised his head and squinted into the night sky. Suddenly the frenzied world around him seemed to slow … right … down … Something was terribly wrong. The
Silver Sardine
no longer raced towards them. Her sails hung limply from her masts as she turned into the wind. The Cat Fish weren't attempting to ram the
Apple Pie
, they were preparing to fire.

The
Silver Sardine's
four portside cannons became visible. In moments they would be loaded and ready for action. The
Apple Pie
was well within range of a flaming fur-ball attack, but only a handful of long-range pies scattered around the deck had any chance of reaching the Cat Fish. It was one cannon against four, and as the silver sails began to slide from the
Sardine's
masts, Whisker knew his enemy's only weakness was literally slipping away before his eyes.

‘Ratbeard, save us!' the Captain gasped.

‘We're sitting ducks,' Horace cried, bounding up the stairs. ‘Our cannons are filled with sloppy short-range pies – they'll never make the distance.'

Whisker's tail began to shake in panic.

‘Watch it, Whisker,' Horace gasped, ‘Your tail is on fire and I'm covered in gunpowder.'

Whisker looked down to see the burning match darting from side to side at the end of his tail. He'd forgotten to put it out. As he frantically snuffed out the flame, a peculiar thought drifted into his mind.

‘Horace,' he exclaimed. ‘You've just given me a brilliant idea.'

‘It had better be a quick idea,' Ruby hissed. ‘There's no time to bake another one of your fancy rocket pies.'

‘I don't need another pie,' Whisker cried. ‘What I need is a stick of dynamite … a jar of Gourmet Gunpowder … and the answer to one simple question.'

‘Which is?' Horace asked.

‘How long does it take for a dynamite fuse to burn?'

‘I should know this,' Horace said. ‘It's, um … well …'

‘Eight-point-six seconds,' replied a smug voice from the stairwell, ‘if it's got a standard issue fuse like this one.'

Pete appeared at the top of the stairs carrying a red stick of dynamite and the second jar of Gourmet Gunpowder.

‘That was quick!' Whisker exclaimed.

‘Not really,' Pete boasted. ‘I'm a Quartermaster, not a…'

‘GET A MOVE ON!' the Captain yelled. ‘They're lighting the fur-balls.'

Whisker grabbed the explosives from Pete and wedged the dynamite into one side of the pie crust and the Gourmet Gunpowder into the other.

‘I don't have time to explain,' he said with urgency, ‘but it's important the dynamite explodes the moment it reaches the ship. Can you do the maths for me, Pete?'

‘Certainly,' Pete replied, scratching numbers on the deck.

‘Two fur-balls are now lit,' the Captain bellowed.

Horace pointed at Pete's equation with his hook. ‘Remember to factor in the wind direction and …'

‘Yes, yes, I know all that!' Pete snapped.

Horace stepped back and Whisker grabbed his sleeve.

‘You're the sharp shooter, Horace. I'll let you adjust the angle. Aim for the central mast, just above the deck.'

Horace ran his eye along the cannon.

‘I can't hit a mast in these conditions,' he groaned. ‘A calm day is one thing but …'

‘You won't have to hit anything,' Whisker cried. ‘Trust me.'

Horace made a few quick adjustments with his hook and Whisker moved the cannon into position.

‘I've got it!' Pete cried, jumping up from his equation. ‘Light the dynamite, wait two-and–a-half seconds, then light the cannon and begin the count down.'

‘Four fur-balls are ablaze,' the Captain shouted. ‘They're ready to fire!'

‘So are we,' Whisker yelled back. ‘Cover your ears!'

He lit a match with his paw and stood on his tail with both feet. This was no time for accidents.

The crew crept backwards as Whisker lit the dynamite and began to count, ‘ONE … TWO … TH …' Before he reached three, he lit the fuse of the cannon and counted backwards, ‘THREE … TWO … ONE …'
KABOOM!

There was a flash of flames as the pie launched into the sky. It sped towards the
Silver Sardine
in a perfect arc
.

Three-point-one seconds after takeoff, the dynamite exploded with an almighty
BANG,
showering the Cat Fish with pie crust and Gourmet Gunpowder dust. The orange flames of the fur-balls turned a terrifying shade of purple and began twisting like tornadoes inside the cannons.

With four deafening roars, the cannons exploded backwards into the ship in a spectacular display of twisting metal and purple flames. In seconds, the
Silver Sardine
had vanished from sight into a cloud of purple smoke.

The entire Pie Rat crew stared wide-eyed in bewilderment at the spectacle before them. Whisker was the only exception. He already knew the purple power of Gourmet Gunpowder.

Among the rumbles of thunder echoing across the sky, Whisker made out the angry screeches of six furious felines in the dense smoke. More than once he heard his name being yelled and more than once it was followed by a string of rude obscenities he hoped the children couldn't hear.

With a soft shuffle of footsteps, Madam Pearl stepped from the open doorway of the navigation room.

‘Err … excuse me. Is everything alright?' she asked anxiously. ‘We heard a large explosion and the children were worried. I'm not particularly experienced at babysitting and I thought …' She paused and stuck her nose in the air. ‘Gracious. Is that lavender I can smell?'

‘Aye …' Horace gasped in wonder. ‘I think Whisker just blew up the Cat Fish.'

‘Splendid,' Madam Pearl said, ducking inside the room. ‘Did you hear that, Eaton and Emmie? We're going to be perfectly alright. You can ignore the end of my bedtime story. The two mice don't get eaten for supper, after all.'