“Much gold indeed in her flanks, I think, Master,” said Nathan, staring hard through the eyeglass.
“ARRRR.” Captain Thunders rumbled happily. He was impatient to board the ship, eager to lay his hands on some real treasure at last. “Bring us in tight, Spider Sam, spin that wheel, Vanessa.” Spider Sam whizzed the ship’s wheel round so fast Vanessa flew off, landing with a plop on the deck.
“Hey, watch it!” she snarled. “That’s no way to treat a lady. And you can push off too!” Mr Spinks scampered up for a better look, until Vanessa bared her impressively sharp fangs at him, turning her eyes red with yellow spots. Gibbering in fear, Mr Spinks turned tail and fled. Darting into the nearest locker to hide, he shut the door with a bang.
Vanessa smirked triumphantly. “That monkey is a chicken,” she said.
It was a breezy day and very soon, sleek and speedy, The Merry Mary drew alongside the big galleon. Grappling hooks were thrown, each one finding its target, their sharp points fastening the hapless ship in tight. Within seconds the crew of pirates, except for Spider Sam in charge of the wheel, had swarmed over the side, swinging over the sea onto the deck of the other ship. Each of the pirates had a long knife in his belt and a cutlass held between his teeth. Hooknose had two cutlasses, one for each hand. The crew of the galleon were soon located and battle commenced.
SWISH! THUMP! WHACK!
Very soon, most of the galleon’s crew had jumped over the side, preferring to take their chances with circling sharks than risk the wrath of a pirate crew.
Unlucky Pete opened the hold and whistled loud and long. “Lookee here, shipmates,” he said, after an appreciative pause. “We truly have struck gold this time and in grand abundance too.”
Giving a happy whoop, Portuguese John stuck his flag into the main mast, then joined his shipmates at the hatch. The pirates stood in silence surveying scores of treasure chests piled high in the hold. A few were open, displaying an opulent hoard of gold and jewels.
“Look at that.” Pointing, Nathan removed his hat, twisting it in his large hands as he surveyed the glittering haul below. “There be more treasure down there than I could have dreamt up in a year full of Saturdays.”
“It’s far too much plunder to transfer to The Merry Mary, Captain,” said Hooknose. Dropping nimbly into the hold he began counting the treasure chests.
“We’ll have to sail her to your treasure trove, Master.”
“Eh?” said Captain Thunders. “My what?”
“Treasure trove, sir,” said Nathan. “It’s where you keeps your treasure, sir.”
“Oh.” The Captain tugged on his beard, jingling the bell, thinking there was still much to learn about being a pirate. “I have stowed some treasure,” he said. “I found it on an island.”
“And where was that?” asked Portuguese John. “Which island was it, Cap’n?”
“I know not its name.”
“What did it look like?” asked John. “Surely you must remember that, Cap’n – or you wouldn’t be able to find your treasure again.”
The Captain frowned, watching Hooknose climb out of the hold. “Of course I remember. Now, let me think… um… It was an island with pure white sands. It had towering cliffs pointing to the sky like witches fingers. There was a vast jungle surrounding mountains so high they cut clean through the clouds. Oh, I remember now – by the rocks there was a big cave with a giant crab in it.”
Hooknose’s neatly trimmed eyebrows disappeared under the brim of his hat. “I fear you are talking about The Island of Despair, Captain,” he said. “Are you sure you want to keep your treasure trove on The Island of Despair?”
“Yes!” Captain Thunders thumped his hand down on top of a locker. “Why must my worthless crew always doubt their Captain? I who lead them to great treasures.” He swept his hand towards the hold, with its store of treasure chests.
“And nuns,” said Portuguese John.
“What?”
“Nothing, Cap’n,” said John. “I coughed.”
“What better place to have a treasure trove than on an island called ‘The Island of Despair’,” said Captain Thunders, waving his arms about. “Why – who else would dare to venture there?”
“Err, Cap’n,” said Unlucky Pete. “Didn’t you just say you found your treasure on the Island of Despair? Doesn’t that mean someone else did use it first? Ouch!” Seizing Pete, the Captain hung him on a rigging hook on the mast.
“Cut me down!” cried Pete, wriggling his legs. Chattering with delight, Mr Spinks ran straight up the mast, pulled Unlucky Pete’s woolly hat off and put it on his own small head. Slowly, the hat drooped over the monkey’s eyes, slipping lower until he couldn’t see. Down it went, covering his arms, trapping them until the heavy bobble toppled the monkey from the mast and he fell onto the deck with a splat. As Mr Spinks tried to rip the hat from his head, his claws tangled in the wool and stuck fast. Over and over he rolled on the deck, shrieking and gibbering.
The pirates laughed until the tears rolled clean tracks down their grubby cheeks. With a few long-legged strides, Hooknose reached his monkey.
“Foolish simian,” he said. Gently lifting the shaking little creature, he carefully unhooked each tangled claw to free his pet. Mr Spinks jumped onto his master’s shoulder. Putting his thin arms around Hooknose’s neck, he hid his tiny face under the pirate’s neckerchief.
“We should stow this precious cargo at once,” said Hooknose. “I shall sail this vessel and you can follow in The Merry Mary. Pete, you can stay and help me.”
“Well, go on,” said the Captain, pulling Unlucky Pete down from the mast. “Stop hanging about up there and get on with some work for a change.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” Pete scuttled over to Hooknose.
The Captain, Nathan and Portuguese John swung back to The Merry Mary. After reporting their good fortune to Spider Sam and Vanessa, the ship set a course for The Island of Despair.
All through the night the two ships cut through the waves buffeted by the strong winds that helped them on their way. At last, as the sun peeked pinkly over the horizon, The Island of Despair came into view, its silvery white beaches glimmering in welcome as the sun crept higher up the sky.
“This is it!” Full of excitement, Captain Thunders jumped over the side of the ship. Landing in waters deep enough to down a normal man, he began wading towards the shore. His legs were so long and powerful, they overcame the pull of the strong dawn current and it didn’t take the Captain very long to reach the rocks by the cave.
“Very impressive, I’m sure.”
The Captain turned to find Merturtle flapping her scabby tail as she hauled herself onto a rock.
Captain Thunders stepped onto a higher rock and put his hands on his hips. “More impressive than you’ll ever be, you crinkled crone.”
“You can talk – you big, lumbering luggard.” Merturtle slapped her tail against the rock and began to comb out her frizzy mass of yellow hair with a shell comb. She growled as its teeth stuck fast in the knotty, tangle on her head.
“Ha, ha, you’re a mess, sea-hag!” Captain Thunders left her to it, jumping over the rocks in a series of huge bounds. A distant clunk made him turn. The big galleon’s anchor had been thrown out and Spider Sam was sliding down it into a waiting rowing boat. The rest of the crew of The Merry Mary were busy pulling in alongside, roping the two ships together. Soon, the pirates had filled the rowing boat with treasure chests and the first batch was steered towards the cave.
“I wish gold was lighter.” Unlucky Pete puffed up, hauling a treasure chest along behind him. “It’s no good being rich if you scupper your back. Argh!”
“Stop whingeing,” said the Captain. “Lift with your knees like Hooknose there.”
“Lift with your knees…”
“What?”
“Nothing, Cap’n,” said Pete, “dry throat, need some rum.”
Hooknose dropped the two chests he’d been carrying
onto the shingle in front of the cave. Mr Spinks promptly jumped onto one and began peering into the keyhole, trying to pick the lock by poking in his tiny finger.
“Why’s it called The Island of Despair?” asked Captain Thunders.
“It’s the air on the island, Captain,” replied Hooknose, wiping his noble brow with a silk handkerchief. “It’s poisoned by mercury in the silvery white sands sending everyone into a spiralling madness if they stay too long.”
Nathan appeared, staggering under the weight of two vast treasure chests balanced on his shoulders.
“Phew,” he said, dropping them. “They be ‘eavy!” Nathan lumbered into the cave. “Why’s it so dark in here?”
“Caves tend to be on the dark side,” said Hooknose, folding the handkerchief and returning it to his pocket.
“If we’re putting the treasure in ‘ere,” said Nathan’s voice, echoing out from the darkness. “How will we see?”
Captain Thunders reached into his pocket and pulled out the massive ruby. Popping it on top of his hat he walked into the cave.
“Cor – lummee,” said Nathan as the walls of the cave glowed red. “That’s magic, that is. Eeeek – a crab!”
Hearing the commotion the pirates were making, the enormous crab had come skittering along the slippery floor of the tunnel to find out what was happening.
Captain Thunders marched forwards. “Hello, Mr Snippy,” he said, advancing towards it. “Remember me?” With outstretched arms, he rushed towards the crab. “Fancy another swim, Mr Snippy?” The crab rotated rapidly, clattering away down the tunnel. Captain Thunders smiled as he heard it bouncing off the walls in its haste to escape. “And don’t come back until we’ve finished.”
The Captain dusted off his hands. Nathan pointed hopefully to a large treasure chest Portuguese John had just dragged inside.
“Here.” Captain Thunders plonked the massive ruby on top of Nathan’s tiny hat. “Borrow this – you’ll need it to move all the treasure inside. But I want it back.”
“Not going to help, Cap’n?” asked Portuguese John. “It’ll be quicker if we all move the chests.”
“I need to go and work on my plans.” The Captain marched out of the cave into the early morning sun. Placing his hat on his chest, he lay down on the rocks, closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face.
Spider Sam’s shadow fell across him.
“Get out of my light, you one-orbed idiot,” said Captain Thunders. “Can’t you see I’m plotting.”
“You look more like you’re sun-bathing to me,” said Vanessa.
“Well, I’m not, you hairy little beast. Hey!” A bright green and red parrot appeared, swooping so low, its claws parted the Captain’s hair. “Gerroff me!” The Captain swatted at the excited parrot with his hat and got a peck on the hand. “OW! Will one of you bone-headed blaggards stop this stupid bird from attacking me – I think its drunk or mad – or both!”
“Gracious me, Captain.” Hooknose put down the chest he was carrying and stood to admire the circling bird. “If I’m not mistaken… that is a St Andrew’s Green! It’s a very rare parrot indeed.”
“Gold and jewels. It’s a lighthouse!” The parrot dived beak first into Captain Thunders’ hat.
“Why’s it saying that, Master? Removing his hat, Nathan scratched his head, looking puzzled.
“Not a clue,” replied Captain Thunders, ducking away from the hurtling bird. “Gerrof! C’mere, you pesky parrot.” His fingers clutched the parrot’s tail feathers, and gripping the bird with his other hand, he hauled it in.
“Gotcha!”
“Not a clue,” said the parrot, pecking the Captain’s hand. “Not a clue.”
Captain Thunders stuffed the parrot on his shoulder. But with a loud squawk it flew away. “Hey!” he yelled. “Come back here, you barmy bird!” The parrot landed on a nearby rock. Cawing crossly, it shook out its squashed feathers. Captain Thunders began climbing over the rocks towards it. But he’d only taken a couple of strides when a furry blur whizzed past him. A whirling mass of fur and feathers bounced across the seaweed-strewn rocks.
“No, Mr Spinks, bad monkey! Excuse me, Captain.” Hooknose’s long legs gracefully covered the rocks. Reaching out, he picked up the scrapping pair by the scruffs of their necks.
“Naughty monkey!” Hooknose frowned at his pet. Mr Spinks chattered forlornly, he hated being told off by his beloved master. Hooknose put the monkey down and Mr Spinks slunk away, small shoulders rounded with shame.
“And as for you, Mr Parrot.” Hooknose rubbed a finger over the bird’s soft green head, flattening its crest until the parrot stopped squawking. “You will learn to behave.” He turned and held the bird towards the Captain. “This is Captain Humungous Thunders, Captain of The Merry Mary. And he is your new master – now, say ‘Hello, Captain’.”
“’Ello, Captain,” squawked the parrot, eyeing Hooknose with interest. “’Ello, Captain.”
“Not me, him!” Hooknose rubbed the parrot’s curved beak. “Now, Mr Parrot – you must do whatever your master tells you or I’ll set my monkey on you. Do you understand?”
“’Ello, Captain,” squawked the parrot, swivelling its head around.
“Here, parrot.” Captain Thunders held out his finger. “Hop on, ouch!”
“No pecking,” warned Hooknose. “Go to the Captain. On his shoulder… There! Good parrot. Lovely bird.”
“Lovely bird, lovely bird,” said the parrot. Settling itself on the Captain’s shoulder it began turning round in circles.
“Groo!” said the Captain. “It’s making me feel dizzy. Whoops.”
“No pecking, no pecking!” shrieked the parrot as Captain Thunders fell backwards into the shallow water, landing with a mighty splash.
*
Alfie Rains woke up on the ground behind the compost bins with a pigeon sitting on his chest.
“Coo!” said the pigeon.
Chapter Nine
Grandma Rains
“Do sit up straight, Alfie.” Alfie’s mother was in frantic mode, rushing around the house, overcharged with energy. “Grandma Rains will be here any minute – please be good. Eek, look at the time!”
“Yes, Mum,” muttered Alfie, sitting on the stairs. “It’s Grandma Rains’ time!” His mother raced past him. Seconds later she was back. Licking her fingers, she used them to plaster his wayward fringe to his forehead.
“Yuck!” said Alfie, trying to crawl up the stairs.
“Stay still, Alfie.” His mother tried to haul him back by the t-shirt. “Your hair’s such a mess. What would Grandma Rains say?”
Ding dong.
“’Bout to find out,” said Alfie, hammering up the stairs.
“Hello, Delores,” said Alfie’s mother, opening the door. “How nice to see you. Do come in. I have a lovely tea all ready for you in the parlour.”
“Afternoon,” said Grandma Rains, eyeing the doormat with disdain and hoicking up her skirt as she stepped over it. “Is the parlour clean? You know I can’t abide dirt.”
“It’s as clean as a new pin,” said Alfie’s mother.
“Don’t like pins,” said Grandma Rains. “Nasty sharp things.”
Alfie trailed back down the stairs, arriving in the parlour just as Grandma Rains reached up on her stacked heels to run a white-gloved finger along the top of a picture frame. Alfie watched his mother’s cheeks flush bright red with embarrassment.
“Dirt!” said Grandma Rains, holding out a grubby glove-tip.
“I must have missed that bit. I’m so sorry, Delores. I’ll do and get a duster immediately.” His mother scuttled away leaving Alfie staring up at his grandmother. Stripping off her gloves she placed them inside a large crocodile skin handbag, closing the clasp with a sharp snap.
“Now, young Alfred James.” Grandma Rains clamped a wrinkled hand onto Alfie’s shoulder and squeezed. He tried to wriggle away but she had a grip like a vice. “Are you doing well at school?” Alfie nodded.
“Speak to me, boy,” ordered Grandma Rains. “You know I cannot abide the nodding of heads.”
“Yes, Grandma, very well. I love school.” Alfie wished his mother would hurry back with that dratted duster.
When it was time to eat, Alfie sat quietly at the table as his mother darted in and out of the room like a mother bird feeding hungry chicks in a nest. Glancing up and down his eyes roamed the neat, white tablecloth searching for cheese.
“There,” said Alfie’s mother, placing a silver tray of sandwiches on the table. “That’s the last of the food. That should be enough, don’t you think?”
“Never!” said Alfie, grinning.
“Are you raising a greedy boy, Lorraine?” said Grandma Rains, polishing a fork on her napkin. “You know I cannot abide greedy boys.”
“Goodness, no. Alfie’s not greedy. Far from it. He’s a good boy – aren’t you, Alfie?”
“I’m a shining example,” said Alfie, smiling and still eyeing the food. There was a plate of cheese sandwiches in full view, and a cheese flan. He began plotting – the flan was less obviously cheesy than the sandwiches and his mother was so rattled by the presence of Grandma Rains, she may well not notice if he ate some. Alfie bided his time.
“What on earth is this, Lorraine?” Grandma Rains pointed a craggy finger at a white china dish with something pink and wobbly piled inside it.
“It’s taramasalata, Delores.” Alfie’s mother looked very flustered and her cheeks were beginning to patch with red. “You should try it – it’s delicious. Alfie likes it.”
“No, I don’t,” said Alfie.
“Yes, yes – but what is it?” persisted Grandma Rains, picking up the small dish and sniffing it. Alfie tried not to laugh as a blob attached itself to the end of her nose.
“It’s made from fish eggs, garlic, olive oil, and…”
“Muck!” shrieked Grandma Rains, setting the bowl back down with such speed, the pink contents wobbled dangerously. “You know I don’t eat muck.”
Alfie’s mother looked on, aghast. “I’m so sorry, Delores. There’s plenty more food. You don’t have to eat the taramasalata if you don’t like it.”
“I don’t like it!”
Alfie knew this was his chance. Leaning out across the table towards the flan he quickly drew out a large cut slice. He knew full well if he picked the squishy flan up in his fingers and ate it Grandma Rains would be sure to notice and would tell him off, immediately alerting his mother to his intentions. Ever so slowly, Alfie gently picked up his knife and fork. Swiftly cutting the soft, squishy flan into small pieces, he popped the first square into his mouth. Grandma Rains was still busy moaning about the taramasalata. Very neatly, Alfie popped the other pieces of flan, one after another, into his mouth. He chewed very fast, swallowing like a hungry frog eating flies. The flan was very cheesy. Alfie gave a little cough. He felt hot and sweaty and his stomach had started to rumble and growl beneath the table.