There wasn’t anything Harry Possum could do. He was tightly bound, hands and feet immobilised, rope painfully cutting into his wrists and ankles. A dusty sack covered his head, blinding and silencing him. Sally Sloth was near. He had heard her pleading with the pirates but her attempts had been futile and judging by the growls, she had eventually just made them angry. They didn’t appear to understand Latin and he wasn’t even sure whether the barks and grows were any kind of language at all.
Sally and he were lying in the bottom of a small boat under sail in choppy seas. They had been sailing for more than an hour but it was impossible to tell where they were heading.
‘Are you okay?’ he whispered.
‘Yes, tired and worried and uncomfortable but otherwise okay,’ Sally whispered back.
‘Can you move?’
‘Not really, I seem to be jammed between the side of the boat and a coil of rope.’
‘I think there are only three of them. If I could get free, I might be able to overpower them.’ He strained with all his might but the ropes were too tight. The pirates were experts in the art of tying knots.
‘Anything I can do to help?’ whispered Sally.
‘Can you get free?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll try.’
Harry listened while Sally struggled with effort. Her long, curving claws were naturally suited to unpicking knots but as they were probably tied behind her back like his, they were as good as useless.
‘It’s no use,’ she whispered breathlessly.
‘Don’t give up, Sally. This may be our only chance. I think they’re taking us back to the wreck of the Interloper. Once we’re there, there’ll be far too many of them to overpower. Try again.’
The boat was rocking in the swell as it was pushed before the strong breeze. Water had collected in the bottom, its icy fingers penetrating Harry’s thick fur. His head was pressing uncomfortably against a sharp protrusion, the least of his problems. He listened to Sally’s struggles for a while trying to think of a way to get free.
‘I can’t do it, Harry. I’m too tightly bound,’ she said after a time.
‘That’s okay. Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.’ They both fell silent. Harry listened to the wind slapping a rope against the mast. Every now and then he heard the pirates growling and barking unintelligibly.
‘What will they do with us, Harry?’
He had a good idea what the pirates would do, but telling Sally would just add a measure of hopelessness to an already terrifying situation. It was better to hold back bad news as long as possible, at least until a reason for hope presented itself. In this way a person had something to cling to when things got too dark to see clearly.
‘I don’t know. There’s not much we can do about it now anyway, so perhaps we should try to get some sleep. Things will be clearer in the morning, and its then we’ll need our wits about us.’
Sally yawned. ‘Yes, I think you’re right.’
‘Good night, Sally.’
‘Good night, Harry.’
He lay in the dark, listening to the motion of the boat and the wind in the sails. He was cold, wet, and a little worried that he was in over his head. He thought back to the brief moment before the pirates had bagged him. There wasn’t much to work with. They were fierce looking with canine teeth. Some wore garments that reminded him of Flossy’s attire, others were strapped with daggers and swords. They were organised and skilled in their trade; the worst kind of enemy to take on single-handedly.
Wriggling to get comfortable, Harry wondered how Sally’s husband and daughter were coping with her abduction. He’d not met her husband but Elise looked adorable wearing his far-to-large sunglasses.
His sunglasses! What had become of them? They’d been knocked off in the tussle when he’d fallen from Stanley’s back. Hopefully someone had picked them up or the pirates had kept them safe. In daylight, life without sunglasses was unbearable for a nocturnal animal. His eyes were perfectly adapted to the nightlife of Treehaven; the town he had left behind for the metropolis of Port Isabel.
Harry’s sunglasses were of ancient manufacture and irreplaceable. They had been made during the Machine Age by some lost-art and using unknown materials. They were incredibly light and cancelled the sun’s glare in a way that no other glasses of modern manufacture could. They even allowed him to see beneath the reflection of the sun on water, which was like having magical vision. And they fitted perfectly, which made them even more precious. The heads of animals varied so much in size and shape that the chance of finding a pair of Machine Age sunglasses that fitted was next to nothing. Yet, he had found them, or rather, had been given them by a travelling merchant who had not appreciated their true value or antiquity. Reginald said they were probably found at the base of a retreating glacier. Such finds were common, though he had not before seen ‘Ray-Ban’ sunglasses. He had been at Harry for years to hand them over to the museum for proper conservation and cataloguing. Harry replied that he might as well lop of his own tail, which would not happen if he could help it.
There was a noise.
‘Harry, are you still awake?’ whispered Sally urgently.
‘Yes. Are you alright?’
‘I thought I heard something. It sounded like…’
‘…help?’ he asked.
‘What if they’re looking for us?’
Yes, indeed!’
Harry rolled face up, took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his voice: ‘Help! If you can hear me, we need help! It’s Harry Possum and…’
There was a commotion then ferocious barking. Teeth penetrated the sack and tore at his face, instantly silencing him. He struggled desperately to get free but it was useless, he was bound too tight. One of the dogs pressed down on his chest making it impossible to breath. Canine jaws tightened like a clamp until he knew there would be bruising and blood. Still they tightened, puncturing and tearing. The pain was now so unbearable he felt himself slipping from consciousness, eyes filling with light.
‘Harry!’ yelled Sally desperately, as if from a great distance. ‘Harry!’
But Harry was unable to reply. This was it, he thought; this was how it felt to be eaten alive. Having now accepted the certainty of his fate, a great calm descended upon him and he stopped struggling. Somehow he didn’t seem to be attached to his body anymore.
As the dogs mauled him he listened to the sound of flapping sails above and the gentle slap of the boat’s hull clipping the swell. He listened to the hiss of surf and his own heartbeat. He listened to his own ragged breathing. He had so many unrealised hopes; so many injustices he had failed to correct; so many questions left unanswered; so many places he had failed to see; so many wrongs to correct.
But despite all this and the certainty of this fate, Harry found a bright orb of hope shining warmly within; so bright that nothing else seemed to matter; that this wasn’t the end but just another beginning; that the greater adventure was yet to be had.
He was only dimly aware when unconsciousness dragged him down to silent oblivion.