CHAPTER 3
NOTHING TO FEAR
With Harry riding on his back, Stanley carefully pressed through the crowd who had gathered to hear Mayor Lion. He stopped when he reached a line of rhinoceros soldiers standing at the foot of the wide stairs leading up to Town Hall.
‘I would like to speak with the Mayor. I have crucial information about the pirates,’ said Harry to the closest rhino.
The rhino looked him up and down and snorted. ‘My orders are to hold back the crowd. They don’t include anything about civilian possums.’ He wore body armour, metal tips on his horns.
Harry protested.
‘Shhh! The Mayor’s about to speak,’ said the rhino, turning aside so abruptly that Stanley had to jump backwards.
‘But I…’ said Harry.
The rhino growled and Harry fell silent.
The railing of the stairway behind the line of rhino soldiers featured two large war elephants artfully shaped from stone. Bronze arrows protruded from their rumps as they rolled back on their hind legs, eyes flashing wildly. The portico that covered the landing at the top was held aloft by four tree-like columns. Mayor Lion waited between these in a bright spot of sunshine, flanked by gorilla guards holding ceremonial spears. His magnificent golden mane appeared to glow with its own light.
Harry thumbed his sunglasses and looked over the crowd. It was rapidly swelling as more and more animals arrived, anxious for news. Every House seemed to be represented. There were giraffes and elephants, buffalos and horses, reindeer and crocodiles, alpaca and warthogs, gorillas and rhinoceroses, ostriches and orang-utans; all of them mumbling and rumbling, chatting and squawking, mooing and neighing as they exchanged rumours, fretted, sweated and jittered with excitement. They were a cacophony of nervous energy.
From Stanley’s back Harry could see the whole of Town Square. The Stinging Nettle, his favourite café, was empty, as were most of the other shops and restaurants—closed for the Mayor’s address, no doubt. To get a better view, some of the smaller animals were sitting on the railing of the rotunda that housed the town’s big, brass alarm bell. Further down, the warm morning caused most to give the Heat Tree a wide birth, so two crocodiles had it all to themselves. They lay on the encircling wall, blissfully basking in the warmth. Directly in front of the Museum of Ancient Antiquities at the far end of the Square, poles had been erected and strung together to form a big grid. Lanterns and other decorations would be hung from these at the Festival of Spring. Harry already had tickets. He went for the folk music that always reminded him of Treehaven, his home town. Deep down he was a sentimental possum.
The shrieks, hoots and whinnies petered out as the crowd realised the Mayor was about to speak.
‘Good citizens of Port Isabel, you have nothing to fear,’ said the Mayor, voice deeply reassuring and brimming with confidence. ‘About an hour ago, a pirate ship, the Interloper we are told, fired a single shot at our town. Port Isabel East Junior School was hit and destroyed. Thankfully, no one was injured.’
The animals round Harry chattered, screeched and squawked as they digested the news. It was at once terribly frightening and terribly exciting. Pirates plagued the open ocean but rarely troubled the towns along the coast. Some animals ran out of the Square, and then ran back. Smaller animals leapt onto the backs of larger ones, eyes flashing wildly.
The Mayor motioned for silence. ‘We believe it to be a wild shot, to let us know they’re still around. It’s unlikely the school was the intended target. We can think of no good reason why anyone would attack a school, even pirates. They sailed by without stopping and have continued up the coast. Heralds will be dispatched as new information comes to hand, but we don’t believe they’ll trouble us again. As you can see, we have the situation well under control. Now please return to your homes and businesses and reassure everyone you meet that the danger is now passed. And please ignore any rumours you hear unless first confirmed by my office.’
The Mayor turned to go but then turned back. ‘Oh, and one more thing: the Council has asked me to remind everyone, again, that the practice of leaving rotten fish in the gutter when you pack up after Market Day has to stop.’ Harry saw worried frowns give way to toothy grins. ‘You know who you are and if you do it again you’ll feel the full wrath of this office.’
The Mayor’s personal guard swung behind in close formation as the he turned and re-entered Town Hall. The crowd around Harry and Stanley began to disperse, everyone talking at once.
This was not the response Harry had expected. The Mayor wasn’t going to do anything. His only concern was making sure people didn’t panic. He listened to snatches of conversation from the dispersing crowd. Nobody was talking about holding the pirates to account. Nobody was talking about retribution, or action. The Mayor’s reassurance was enough for them: the Interloper had moved on so they were safe. They would pretend nothing had happened; that it wouldn’t happen again. But Harry knew better. What if the school was full of students? What if little Elsie Sloth had been killed, or Larry Monkey, or Reginald Elephant? What if he had been killed! Next time someone would be injured, or worse.
If the Mayor wouldn’t act, he would. He would send a loud and clear message to those school-destroying pirates; a message in their own language; a message they wouldn’t be able to ignore. He would give them a powerful deterrent to stay clear of Port Isabel in future. All he lacked was the method and the means, small matters indeed for a resourceful possum.
A large, black, angry farm horse approached. ‘Stanley! What in the blazes…’ He looked like an older, darker version of Stanley.
Stanley retreated in surprise, nothing intelligible coming out of his open mouth.
‘Haven’t you got somewhere to be?’
‘But, it was an emer, emer...’
The older horse sighed. ‘Take your time, son. Calm yourself, just like the doctor said.’ As Harry dismounted, Stanley’s father explained to Harry: ‘People thinks he’s, well you know. But he’s not. There’s nothing wrong with his brains. He’s full smart enough for a farm horse. You don’t need to be able to talk without stuttering when you’re ploughing fields.’
‘It was an emer, emer, emergen...’ Stanley finally managed to say.
‘An emergency, was it? Well I dare Farmer Weasel’s got an emergency too. He’ll be worrying that his fields won’t be ready for planting. And I don’t need to tell you how rare sunshine is this time of year and how every day counts. Now, off with you!’
Stanley turned and trotted across the Square, deeply embarrassed.
‘Thanks for the ride, Stanley!’ Harry called after him.
Elizabeth Horse approached, her flanks shiny wet. Larry Monkey was still riding on her back and she was out of breath.
Stanley’s father frowned. ‘I’m thinking someone of your breeding would know better than be seen with a simple farm horse like my son, Miss Elizabeth. If you’ll excuse the presumption, we’re not like them that are in your family. We’re just simple farming folk. And to be honest, Stanley could use less distraction right now. It’s a busy time for us, what with ploughing.’
Elizabeth blushed. ‘Yes, Mr Horse.’ Larry dropped lightly to the ground from her back. ‘Bye, Larry. It was fun. Nice to meet you too, Harry.’
‘You too,’ said Harry, smiling.
The elegant white horse turned and trotted across the Square in the same direction as Stanley. Stanley’s father followed.
Harry turned to go but found his way blocked by Larry.
‘What are you doing? You should be home. Your parents will be worried, what with the school being destroyed,’ he said.
Larry was silent, his flat face unreadable, sad eyes watching.
‘I can’t take you with me, it that’s what you’re thinking,’ said Harry, firmly.
He stepped around Larry and marched across the Square past shops, restaurants and cafés, tail held resolutely aloft. Animals were still arriving. Departing animals told them the news: there was nothing to fear, the Ma
yor had said so.
Harry left the Square via Zigzag Road. Shopfronts soon gave way to townhouses, townhouses to warehouses. Larry trailed behind but kept pace, showing no sign he intended to go home.
Half way down the long hill to Gateway Quay Harry stopped and turned to the small, dour chimpanzee with pink ears that poked out from the side of his head like wings.
‘Off with you, Larry. It’s dangerous and I won’t be responsible.’
Larry watched him from the shadows, face blank.
Harry could see the young chimp wouldn’t be easily discouraged.
‘I’ll be facing the worst pack of pirate dogs to pillage our coast. They destroy schools for breakfast and eat chimpanzees for lunch.’
Larry didn’t react so he turned and continued on, quickening his pace. He would have to leave soon if he was to catch up with the pirates. And he still needed a way to catch them, and when he did, a way to stop them.
He would need a fast boat.