The black ship cut through the night.
Slap slap slap. Her black sails flapped like the wings of a giant bat and stiffened in the chill hands of the bitter wind.
Hisssss. Her silver blades sliced the surface of the thick ice, spitting up large frozen chunks as it passed.
Crack. Shatter. Icicles which had formed and hardened on her masts and deck rails fell and splintered on the hard deck.
Creak. The dark ebony wheel which steered the terrible vessel turned to the bony grasp of its captain.
The terrible red eye glared through the night, burning with hatred at all it surveyed and stared hard, unblinking as if it could set all that it fell upon on fire.
Unwavering, the eye squinted malevolently through the worsening blizzard and its owner barked an order:
“Rat Boy! Bring the prisoner up!”
Both the fox and the girl continued their path across Deck Thirteen.
As Sally drained the last drop of the most refreshing mug of tea that she had ever drunk, a red flash popped down from the ceiling above, grabbed the tankard and was gone.
“Oh…uh…thank you…uh….Mister Blossompouch.” Sally had never been in a situation where it seemed so hard to think of what to say.
Sally turned back to Jack and saw that the sadness in the fox’s eyes been replaced by a spark of humorous intelligence once more and she asked: “So if you are prisoners, then why aren’t you locked up?”
“The peglegs do allow some of us smaller animals a certain freedom during daylight hours,” Jack Douglas replied. “The larger animals are considered more dangerous and are required to stay in their cells at all times. They use the rest of us to take in the food (If you can call such slop, food!) and drink twice a day. We also have to do the mucking out.” His upper lip curled in distaste. “Luckily for us, the fools who run this ship have confused seniority with size. They think that it is the larger animals who are in charge. And they don’t seem to have realised that they have provided the ranking officers with the perfect opportunity to meet and…” he smiled to himself, “…plan.
“Anyway, at sundown, we are required to report back to our cells and are locked in for the night. However, as you can see, we have some very capable lads and lasses here, madam. Let’s just say that a locked cell door does not provide much of a barrier to the likes of MacGregor and Carlysle.
“The larger animals, I’m afraid, are not so lucky. They’re too big too get out through the tunnels and their doors have had extra locks placed on them just to make sure that none of them escape. The peglegs wouldn’t want an angry buffalo on their hands now, would they?”
Jack Douglas grinned, relishing this last thought and then came to a stop. They had finally reached the other end of the deck. A few small animals scampered about their business in the shadows by the back wall but Jack Douglass ignored them and nodded towards a cell door in front of them.
A solid black façade with no barred window at the top, it was locked and bolted with many more padlocks than the other doors on the deck.
“The big mystery of Deck Thirteen, madam. The Locked Cell.”
Sally walked over to the door and read the number painted near the top: “Cell 57.” “Who’s in there?” She asked.
“A question that has been puzzling us for days now, Miss Hargreaves. We just don’t know.” Jack explained:
“The cell was empty and the door unlocked until two days ago. Then in the middle of the night before last, the ship docked at one of the trading posts along the frozen river. The crew were sent ashore for a little R and R, and someone or something was brought aboard. Even our sources above decks were not able to garner any reasonable intel.
“It is the only cell that we are not required to bring food to or to muck out. In fact, it is kept locked all day. Only, Ratboy, the First Mate (and a nasty piece of work to boot) is allowed to enter the cell once a day. During the curfew at night when the whole deck is locked down, he brings food. Whoever or whatever is behind that door, is a mystery indeed!”
“Couldn’t the beavers tunnel underneath?”
“Yes, excellent. Good thinking there, Miss Hargreaves. However, even with such talented engineers as Carlysle and MacGregor, tunnels take time. Current estimates are that we are still at least a day and a half away from completion. Until then, we’ll - ”
Suddenly, a voice, shouted from the far end of the deck, cutting him off in mid-sentence: “Peglegs deck nine!” The cry was passed from animal to animal and cell to cell right down to the end of Deck Thirteen where Sally and Jack Douglas stood.
The fox’s ears pricked up alertly and instantly he was all action. “The lookouts must have spotted members of the crew on their way down!”
He shouted past Sally, his voice carrying down the length of the deck. “Right! To your stations, lads and lasses! And as for you, madam,” he looked up at Sally.” We are going to have to put you back the way that we found you, I’m afraid. We need to get you down to the other end of the deck post haste!”
Before Sally had a chance to ask him what he meant, the fox was off at a speed that she would not have thought him capable of. His forelegs bounded across the wooden floor so quickly that every time the wheels behind hit an uneven plank, his back end would lift high up into the air before bouncing back down again with a thud.
“Come on then, Sally! No time to lose!” He shouted over his shoulder and Sally found herself running as fast as she could to catch up.
As she ran, she heard orders shouted out around her in harsh whispers. Doors were clanking shut, heavy objects dragged to different positions and the lanterns that lit the deck were being extinguished one by one.
The cry came again: “Peglegs deck ten!”
By the time they had reached the far end of the deck, just one lantern was still alight. The lantern which hung above the spot where she had first regained consciousness.
“Down you go, Madam,” Douglas said. “We’re going to have to tie you up again just as we found you, I’m afraid. Can’t let the peglegs know that we’ve been breaking curfew now, can we? Caruthers and Temple here will help you.”
Sally glanced down at two thin hares standing next to the wooden post. The smiled up at her, their large, almond-shaped, honey-coloured eyes apologetic. They held ropes similar to the ones which had been used to tie her up earlier. The idea of being bound again and left to the mercy of the pirates who were heading down to the prison deck was almost too much for Sally to bear.
“No, no,” she spat the words out like bullets. Anger had started to build in her chest as soon as she had begun to realise what it was that they wanted her to do. “I don’t want to. What’s going to happen? No, I…”
The Field Marshall spoke gently but, underneath, his voice carried a tone of command: “Sally, listen to me. There is no choice. If they find out that we have been roaming around the deck at night after curfew then it means big trouble for all of us. I don’t believe that they wish to harm you. If they had wanted to do that, then they would have already done so by now. Please, we need your help. If you don’t-” The end of his sentence was left hanging unspoken in the air.
“Peglegs deck eleven!”
Sally saw the plea in the fox’s eyes. Trust me, they said to her. I’ll make sure that no harm comes to you. Trust me. And she did. She didn’t know why but she did. With difficulty, she swallowed the anger that was building and got slowly down to her knees.
“Alright.” She agreed reluctantly.
In a flash the two silky-furred hares tied her wrists and legs together again (although nowhere near as tightly as the first bonds had been). As they moved her back into position, Jack Douglas whispered in her ear.
“As far as they are concerned, you have been unconscious since they put you down here. You will have to keep everything that you have seen and heard down here to yourself. Mum’s the word, huh?”
She looked up at him and nodded, “I promise.”
“We won’t forget this, Sally. The stinkbag will have to go on again, I’m so sorry. Just one more thing: whatever happens, I want you to remember that the platoon has eyes and ears everywhere. We’ll watch out for you. Remember that.”
And with those words, the foul sack was pulled down over her head. And although it was only as far as her nose this time, still a wave of nausea cramped through her stomach.
“Good luck, Miss Hargreaves.” Then he was gone.
She lay there in the dark trying to breathe through her mouth. Her whole body tensed nervously as, with a metal clang and an almighty crash, the door at the top of the steps behind her was thrown open.
Loud footsteps stomped down and did not stop until they were almost on top of her. Rough hands grabbed her legs and the top of her arms and hoisted her up. Then she was half-carried, half-dragged up the steps and out of the door.
After it was slammed shut and locked, the sack was ripped from her face and she felt a hot breath and drops of saliva sprinkle onto her cheek as a new voice whispered:
“I would like to welcome you to the Huntress on behalf of senior management. As is customary, you will be required to complete a few Health and Safety forms before a short tour of the facilities. We hope you have a happy stay and that the experience will be one to remember for the rest of your life. However short that may be.”
Sunday, 4 October 2009
Chapter Sixteen: Something Out There
The snow fell harder as they galloped along the forested hillside. The flakes thickened, the snow on the ground deepened and often Rodriguez lost his footing in drifts that were deeper than they looked.
David began to wonder about this magnificent creature he was riding. He still had no idea of his name or what on earth a zebra had been doing in the middle of winter in his back garden. Didn’t zebras live in Africa? Or was it India? He could only assume that it had arrived on the same ship which had taken his sister. Or more likely, remembering the chains on his legs, he had escaped from the ship.
David glanced down at the red welts on the zebra’s back and saw that they crossed a network of older scars cutting through the striped fur.
He wondered if his weight on the zebra’s back was causing the creature pain and tried to position himself to avoid the freshest of the wounds, but there were too many.
He gripped tighter to the ebony mane and once more thought that this was perhaps the most beautiful animal he had ever seen. Despite the scars.
On and on.
Every so often a gap in the trees revealed the river, a ribbon of ice curling along far below and the black sails of the pirate ship racing the wind.
Every time this happened, David would clasp his legs tightly against the zebra’s sides in excitement and tap the side of the horse’s muscular neck until Rodriguez glanced in the direction of the black vessel and would squeeze out an extra spurt of speed.
Despite the speed of the ship, they kept up. Sometimes gaining a little ground, sometimes falling behind but always within sight. How the zebra managed this in such conditions, I cannot guess, and I am sure that deep down even Rodriguez himself did not know that he was capable of such a feat of endurance.
Up above, hidden by dark snow clouds, the moon passed its zenith. The snow fell heavier still, settling even upon the zebra’s fur. David found himself having to brush snow away from the horse’s mane and lean over to make sure that it didn’t go into the animal’s eyes. Even the mane that he grasped onto had begun to stiffen in the icy cold.
Then he began to feel it: a niggling itch at the back of his consciousness telling him that there was something he should know. He glanced behind him; he saw the snow clad trees rushing back, disappearing into the night. But beyond that, in the dark, nothing.
The thought inside his head grew more persistent but still he did not know what it was trying to tell him. He looked around again and this time, just for the briefest of seconds thought that he saw…Then it was gone and for the first time during that long flight through the snowy landscape, a long, thin needle of fear slid into his chest.
David finally understood: There is something out there following us!
His eyes widened at the realisation and that small needle point opened out into terror like a blot of ink soaking into thick paper.
There is something out there in the dark!
He freed one hand from the dark mane which it had been grasping, the hair so cold that the clump which had been so tightly held remained curled in a tight ball moulded to the shape of his clenched fist. He thumped the side of the zebra’s neck to catch its attention. But the horse ran on, his breath bursting out into the night air. Up until now, David had not noticed the froth around Rodriguez’s mouth or the frenzied look of concentration in his eyes.
He thumped again harder and this time did not stop until the spell that the horse was under broke. With an effort that felt harder than maintaining the pace that they had been keeping, the zebra struggled to slow down and stop.
His bony chest pumped in and out violently in an effort to fill his lungs with air and stop the burning sensation of oxygen deprivation. Rodriguez wearily turned his head round to look at the small human on his back. His brow creased: [what?].
David stabbed a finger at the dark behind them [there there!].
[what?]
[there!].
And then they saw it, both at the same time. Downhill from them, in the darkness where they could just about make out the shape of the trees, there was something…else .
Too shocked to move, they squinted into the shadows of the forest. Movement. Clearer this time, something shaking the thick bushes just out of sight in the darkness
And then Rodriguez heard it over his own hoarse breath. Crash! Smash! Something big! Something giant! Something ripping through the trees ferociously. Something heading right for them!
David began to wonder about this magnificent creature he was riding. He still had no idea of his name or what on earth a zebra had been doing in the middle of winter in his back garden. Didn’t zebras live in Africa? Or was it India? He could only assume that it had arrived on the same ship which had taken his sister. Or more likely, remembering the chains on his legs, he had escaped from the ship.
David glanced down at the red welts on the zebra’s back and saw that they crossed a network of older scars cutting through the striped fur.
He wondered if his weight on the zebra’s back was causing the creature pain and tried to position himself to avoid the freshest of the wounds, but there were too many.
He gripped tighter to the ebony mane and once more thought that this was perhaps the most beautiful animal he had ever seen. Despite the scars.
On and on.
Every so often a gap in the trees revealed the river, a ribbon of ice curling along far below and the black sails of the pirate ship racing the wind.
Every time this happened, David would clasp his legs tightly against the zebra’s sides in excitement and tap the side of the horse’s muscular neck until Rodriguez glanced in the direction of the black vessel and would squeeze out an extra spurt of speed.
Despite the speed of the ship, they kept up. Sometimes gaining a little ground, sometimes falling behind but always within sight. How the zebra managed this in such conditions, I cannot guess, and I am sure that deep down even Rodriguez himself did not know that he was capable of such a feat of endurance.
Up above, hidden by dark snow clouds, the moon passed its zenith. The snow fell heavier still, settling even upon the zebra’s fur. David found himself having to brush snow away from the horse’s mane and lean over to make sure that it didn’t go into the animal’s eyes. Even the mane that he grasped onto had begun to stiffen in the icy cold.
Then he began to feel it: a niggling itch at the back of his consciousness telling him that there was something he should know. He glanced behind him; he saw the snow clad trees rushing back, disappearing into the night. But beyond that, in the dark, nothing.
The thought inside his head grew more persistent but still he did not know what it was trying to tell him. He looked around again and this time, just for the briefest of seconds thought that he saw…Then it was gone and for the first time during that long flight through the snowy landscape, a long, thin needle of fear slid into his chest.
David finally understood: There is something out there following us!
His eyes widened at the realisation and that small needle point opened out into terror like a blot of ink soaking into thick paper.
There is something out there in the dark!
He freed one hand from the dark mane which it had been grasping, the hair so cold that the clump which had been so tightly held remained curled in a tight ball moulded to the shape of his clenched fist. He thumped the side of the zebra’s neck to catch its attention. But the horse ran on, his breath bursting out into the night air. Up until now, David had not noticed the froth around Rodriguez’s mouth or the frenzied look of concentration in his eyes.
He thumped again harder and this time did not stop until the spell that the horse was under broke. With an effort that felt harder than maintaining the pace that they had been keeping, the zebra struggled to slow down and stop.
His bony chest pumped in and out violently in an effort to fill his lungs with air and stop the burning sensation of oxygen deprivation. Rodriguez wearily turned his head round to look at the small human on his back. His brow creased: [what?].
David stabbed a finger at the dark behind them [there there!].
[what?]
[there!].
And then they saw it, both at the same time. Downhill from them, in the darkness where they could just about make out the shape of the trees, there was something…else .
Too shocked to move, they squinted into the shadows of the forest. Movement. Clearer this time, something shaking the thick bushes just out of sight in the darkness
And then Rodriguez heard it over his own hoarse breath. Crash! Smash! Something big! Something giant! Something ripping through the trees ferociously. Something heading right for them!
Thursday, 24 September 2009
Chapter Fifteen: Below and Above Decks
Thump! Sally landed squarely on her backside.
More shocked than hurt, she found herself sitting waist deep in a shallow hole in the floor. Her shoulders and upper body stuck out above the deck and there staring down at her and looking more shocked than she was, was the face of the Field Marshall.
An angry snarl curled the fox’s mouth and his forelegs pulled him to the edge of the splintered wood. He peered down into the dark space below. “Macgregor! Carlysle!” He snapped loudly. “You blasted fools! I know you’re down there! Report at once!”
As Sally struggled to stand up, she heard a scurrying noise from the shadows under the deck. Two lights appeared strapped to wooden helmets on top of two furry heads. A nasally American voice piped out: “Alright, alright, alright. Calm down, Chief. Just problems with one of the props for tunnel number six. We’ll have it fixed in a jiffy!”
The voice issued from a furry snout with two very big, protruding teeth. As the creature finished speaking, a large tongue popped out licked the teeth and lips and slipped back into its grinning mouth.
Jack Douglas was still angry: “For goodness sake, Carlysle! You almost injured our young guest here! And be careful about what you say soldier – remember: loose lips sink ships!”
Both of the creatures sniggered at that and Jack Douglas puffed in exasperation. “Just get it fixed and quickly!”
Carlysle grinned up at the fox and then turned and noticed Sally for the first time. “Well, good day to you there, ma’am.” He beamed again, a great big, infectious toothy, charming smile and Sally couldn’t help but smile back. MacGregor, meanwhile, who had not spoken a word yet, put a paw to his mouth and blew her a kiss.
This last act seemed to infuriate the fox even more and he growled, his hackles standing on end. Sally thought that if he hadn’t been red already, he would certainly have flushed scarlet with anger “Macgregor, try to remember your manners! You’re not in the North Continent now!”
The animals both put their front paws together in exaggerated apology and Sally had to cover her mouth with her hands to stop from laughing. They turned and crept back under the floor and she saw the great, paddle shaped tails disappear behind them. As she rubbed her bruised behind and heaved herself back up onto the deck, a whirring, sawing noise punctuated by hammering started up from under the floor below them.
“Are you alright, Miss Hargreaves?” The fox looked concerned.
“Yes, I’m fine I just bruised my b- Beavers? Are they beavers?” She couldn’t quite believe what she was saying. Had she just been spoken to by two American beavers?
“Yes, in charge of the tunnelling detail. The only two here with any real construction experience. They’re good lads really and between the pair of them, they’ve managed to tunnel through half the ship without the peglegs knowing. They’ll have that hole patched up in no time.”
He lowered his voice. “Between you and me, though, our friends from the Northern Continent are a blasted unruly lot. Heaven alone knows what they get up to down there most of the time.”
With the sound of the beavers busy fixing the hole behind them, Jack Douglas started moving along the deck again and Sally walked quickly alongside.
“Anyway, where were we, Miss Hargreaves? Ah yes, your questions. Well, I’m sure that the most burning issue that you have right now is your presence here on the Huntress.”
“Yes, please Mr. Douglas.” Sally was beginning to recover from the shock of everything and finally found herself able to construct sentences again. “Please, do you know why I am here?”
“Well, I’d say that that was much more courteous than the first time you asked that question.” He glanced up at her and she reddened with embarrassment again. A small smile crept across his mouth and she realised that he was not being completely serious. “And please, madam, call me Jack.”
He continued to trundle across the floor towards the far end of the prison deck but more slowly now as he reflected on the answer to her question.
“Unfortunately, the truth of the matter is that we believe that you are more than likely a prisoner here like ourselves.” He shrugged and continued, “Some of our contacts on the upper decks reported your abduction at eleven hundred hours. You were tied up and unconscious, and the blighters had the stink bag on you.
From what we can gather it would seem that the peglegs weren’t expecting that particular stop off on our journey. It wasn’t on the map and seems to have taken them as much by surprise as it did yourself.
I wouldn’t mind betting that pirates being pirates, the blighters saw an opportunity to steal something and so they did: you! I dare say they’re not even sure what they’re going to do with you now that they have you here. That’s why they bundled you up and dropped you below decks. More than that, we can’t say, I’m afraid.”
“Field Marshall Douglas!” An urgent voice cut through their conversation. They both turned to see the otter, who Jack Douglas had introduced as Cynthia earlier, come bounding across the deck towards them. “There’s news!” She exclaimed breathlessly as she came to a halt in front of them.
“One second, please, Miss Hargreaves,” the fox said politely and walked a short distance away with the otter, who began to excitedly whisper. Sally saw the fox’s ears twitch in interest. “He what?!” The hackles stood up on his back once more. Whatever had happened, Jack Douglas wasn’t pleased!
After another minute of animated conversation, the fox wheeled himself back over to stand by the young girl. He looked up at her. “You…er…you mentioned a brother when we first untied you.”
“Yes, His name’s David.” Sally’s heart leapt into her throat. “Is he here? Has somebody seen him?”
The fox cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Here, no. But I believe that we may well have spotted him.”
“What? Where? Where is he? Is he alright? Has anything-“
The fox cut her off mid-sentence and continued quickly: “The pirates weren’t the only ones to take advantage of the ship’s unscheduled stop. You see, the Peglegs don’t know it yet but we managed to get one of our lads ashore in all the kafuffle! A Corporal in the Hispanic Cavalry, name of Rodriguez! A zebra! The reason that I mention this is that we had hoped that this would be the last that anybody on board this ship would see of him.
“What I wasn’t expecting was to receive news within hours of his escape that the blasted fool would be following the ship!” Jack Douglas sighed in exasperation again. “And what is more, reports would seem to suggest that he is not alone. He has a young civilian with him.”
“It’s David!” Sally’s face lit up; she just knew it. Her heart told her so. “He’s short with brown hair.”
“I can’t confirm it, you understand but that would seem to fit the description we’ve been given. They were spotted on the banks of the river not twenty minutes ago. Our man up there is a species with a very acute sense of sight. Sharper, thankfully than any of the crew of this soulless vessel.
“I’ll be honest with you, Miss Hargreaves, I have absolutely no idea why the Spaniard is in pursuit of the Huntress after the pain that he suffered here and the effort entailed in his escape...I just hope he knows what he’s doing. Between you and me, I never much understood him at the best of times. Terribly thick accent, you know. “
“And my parents? Do you know-“
“You were brought on board alone, I’m afraid, Sally.” The fox fell silent; he didn’t know what else to say to comfort the young girl.
Sally suddenly felt the urgency of the whole situation: trapped on the ship alone, David outside, her parents vanished. “I have to get off of this ship. I need to find my brother and my parents. Can you help me? Can you get me off? David’s out there and he needs me and he can’t hear. He-”
“Now, now young lady. Pull yourself together.” The fox spoke in his very reassuring firm but gentle tone. “Drink some more of your tea. There’s everything to play for but I have to remind you: this is a prison. Even though it looks as if we have our liberty down here, I assure you the reality could not be further from the truth. Above decks, it’s a different story.” He saw the look of hope on her face starting to fade and added: “We can’t be certain of anything in our situation, you understand, but never say never and all that. We’ll do our best to help, I promise you, Sally, but it will take a lot of planning.”
Sally looked down at the fox, a smile on his face, his eyes alight with mischief and she finally thought to ask: “And what about you? Why are you prisoners here?”
“Ah, that’s an answer which requires an extremely long explanation.” Jack Douglas let out a deep sigh; one which was heavy with things lost but not forgotten. “But the very short version is that we are prisoners here because we are valuable and the peglegs stand to make a lot of money when they deliver us at the other end of this voyage.” He paused briefly. “We are valuable because we are the Last Ones.”
“The Last Ones?” Sally frowned but her tone had softened. She recognised the note of sadness in his voice. “You said that before. What does that mean? The last what?”
“Well, quite simply put,” his voice caught in his throat and he looked away from her for a second and coughed. When he looked back, his tone was strong once more. “We are the last of our kind. You met the platoon, madam. They are the last hedgehogs, the last field mice, the last hares. Blossompouch is one of the last red squirrels. Carlysle and MacGregor are the last beavers. Cynthia Landrey is the last otter. General Smithers the last mole. And so it goes on. We are the only ones left. The Last Ones.”
Sally was shocked, “But what happened to the others?”
“Hunted.” The word hung in the air between them like an echo from a gunshot. He fell silent and although the young girl wasn’t sure what to do or say, she felt as if she should say something. Anything.
“So, you are…”
“Yes, exactly.” He stopped, straightened his back and puffed out his chest proudly. “I am the last red fox in the world. At your service, madam.”
More shocked than hurt, she found herself sitting waist deep in a shallow hole in the floor. Her shoulders and upper body stuck out above the deck and there staring down at her and looking more shocked than she was, was the face of the Field Marshall.
An angry snarl curled the fox’s mouth and his forelegs pulled him to the edge of the splintered wood. He peered down into the dark space below. “Macgregor! Carlysle!” He snapped loudly. “You blasted fools! I know you’re down there! Report at once!”
As Sally struggled to stand up, she heard a scurrying noise from the shadows under the deck. Two lights appeared strapped to wooden helmets on top of two furry heads. A nasally American voice piped out: “Alright, alright, alright. Calm down, Chief. Just problems with one of the props for tunnel number six. We’ll have it fixed in a jiffy!”
The voice issued from a furry snout with two very big, protruding teeth. As the creature finished speaking, a large tongue popped out licked the teeth and lips and slipped back into its grinning mouth.
Jack Douglas was still angry: “For goodness sake, Carlysle! You almost injured our young guest here! And be careful about what you say soldier – remember: loose lips sink ships!”
Both of the creatures sniggered at that and Jack Douglas puffed in exasperation. “Just get it fixed and quickly!”
Carlysle grinned up at the fox and then turned and noticed Sally for the first time. “Well, good day to you there, ma’am.” He beamed again, a great big, infectious toothy, charming smile and Sally couldn’t help but smile back. MacGregor, meanwhile, who had not spoken a word yet, put a paw to his mouth and blew her a kiss.
This last act seemed to infuriate the fox even more and he growled, his hackles standing on end. Sally thought that if he hadn’t been red already, he would certainly have flushed scarlet with anger “Macgregor, try to remember your manners! You’re not in the North Continent now!”
The animals both put their front paws together in exaggerated apology and Sally had to cover her mouth with her hands to stop from laughing. They turned and crept back under the floor and she saw the great, paddle shaped tails disappear behind them. As she rubbed her bruised behind and heaved herself back up onto the deck, a whirring, sawing noise punctuated by hammering started up from under the floor below them.
“Are you alright, Miss Hargreaves?” The fox looked concerned.
“Yes, I’m fine I just bruised my b- Beavers? Are they beavers?” She couldn’t quite believe what she was saying. Had she just been spoken to by two American beavers?
“Yes, in charge of the tunnelling detail. The only two here with any real construction experience. They’re good lads really and between the pair of them, they’ve managed to tunnel through half the ship without the peglegs knowing. They’ll have that hole patched up in no time.”
He lowered his voice. “Between you and me, though, our friends from the Northern Continent are a blasted unruly lot. Heaven alone knows what they get up to down there most of the time.”
With the sound of the beavers busy fixing the hole behind them, Jack Douglas started moving along the deck again and Sally walked quickly alongside.
“Anyway, where were we, Miss Hargreaves? Ah yes, your questions. Well, I’m sure that the most burning issue that you have right now is your presence here on the Huntress.”
“Yes, please Mr. Douglas.” Sally was beginning to recover from the shock of everything and finally found herself able to construct sentences again. “Please, do you know why I am here?”
“Well, I’d say that that was much more courteous than the first time you asked that question.” He glanced up at her and she reddened with embarrassment again. A small smile crept across his mouth and she realised that he was not being completely serious. “And please, madam, call me Jack.”
He continued to trundle across the floor towards the far end of the prison deck but more slowly now as he reflected on the answer to her question.
“Unfortunately, the truth of the matter is that we believe that you are more than likely a prisoner here like ourselves.” He shrugged and continued, “Some of our contacts on the upper decks reported your abduction at eleven hundred hours. You were tied up and unconscious, and the blighters had the stink bag on you.
From what we can gather it would seem that the peglegs weren’t expecting that particular stop off on our journey. It wasn’t on the map and seems to have taken them as much by surprise as it did yourself.
I wouldn’t mind betting that pirates being pirates, the blighters saw an opportunity to steal something and so they did: you! I dare say they’re not even sure what they’re going to do with you now that they have you here. That’s why they bundled you up and dropped you below decks. More than that, we can’t say, I’m afraid.”
“Field Marshall Douglas!” An urgent voice cut through their conversation. They both turned to see the otter, who Jack Douglas had introduced as Cynthia earlier, come bounding across the deck towards them. “There’s news!” She exclaimed breathlessly as she came to a halt in front of them.
“One second, please, Miss Hargreaves,” the fox said politely and walked a short distance away with the otter, who began to excitedly whisper. Sally saw the fox’s ears twitch in interest. “He what?!” The hackles stood up on his back once more. Whatever had happened, Jack Douglas wasn’t pleased!
After another minute of animated conversation, the fox wheeled himself back over to stand by the young girl. He looked up at her. “You…er…you mentioned a brother when we first untied you.”
“Yes, His name’s David.” Sally’s heart leapt into her throat. “Is he here? Has somebody seen him?”
The fox cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Here, no. But I believe that we may well have spotted him.”
“What? Where? Where is he? Is he alright? Has anything-“
The fox cut her off mid-sentence and continued quickly: “The pirates weren’t the only ones to take advantage of the ship’s unscheduled stop. You see, the Peglegs don’t know it yet but we managed to get one of our lads ashore in all the kafuffle! A Corporal in the Hispanic Cavalry, name of Rodriguez! A zebra! The reason that I mention this is that we had hoped that this would be the last that anybody on board this ship would see of him.
“What I wasn’t expecting was to receive news within hours of his escape that the blasted fool would be following the ship!” Jack Douglas sighed in exasperation again. “And what is more, reports would seem to suggest that he is not alone. He has a young civilian with him.”
“It’s David!” Sally’s face lit up; she just knew it. Her heart told her so. “He’s short with brown hair.”
“I can’t confirm it, you understand but that would seem to fit the description we’ve been given. They were spotted on the banks of the river not twenty minutes ago. Our man up there is a species with a very acute sense of sight. Sharper, thankfully than any of the crew of this soulless vessel.
“I’ll be honest with you, Miss Hargreaves, I have absolutely no idea why the Spaniard is in pursuit of the Huntress after the pain that he suffered here and the effort entailed in his escape...I just hope he knows what he’s doing. Between you and me, I never much understood him at the best of times. Terribly thick accent, you know. “
“And my parents? Do you know-“
“You were brought on board alone, I’m afraid, Sally.” The fox fell silent; he didn’t know what else to say to comfort the young girl.
Sally suddenly felt the urgency of the whole situation: trapped on the ship alone, David outside, her parents vanished. “I have to get off of this ship. I need to find my brother and my parents. Can you help me? Can you get me off? David’s out there and he needs me and he can’t hear. He-”
“Now, now young lady. Pull yourself together.” The fox spoke in his very reassuring firm but gentle tone. “Drink some more of your tea. There’s everything to play for but I have to remind you: this is a prison. Even though it looks as if we have our liberty down here, I assure you the reality could not be further from the truth. Above decks, it’s a different story.” He saw the look of hope on her face starting to fade and added: “We can’t be certain of anything in our situation, you understand, but never say never and all that. We’ll do our best to help, I promise you, Sally, but it will take a lot of planning.”
Sally looked down at the fox, a smile on his face, his eyes alight with mischief and she finally thought to ask: “And what about you? Why are you prisoners here?”
“Ah, that’s an answer which requires an extremely long explanation.” Jack Douglas let out a deep sigh; one which was heavy with things lost but not forgotten. “But the very short version is that we are prisoners here because we are valuable and the peglegs stand to make a lot of money when they deliver us at the other end of this voyage.” He paused briefly. “We are valuable because we are the Last Ones.”
“The Last Ones?” Sally frowned but her tone had softened. She recognised the note of sadness in his voice. “You said that before. What does that mean? The last what?”
“Well, quite simply put,” his voice caught in his throat and he looked away from her for a second and coughed. When he looked back, his tone was strong once more. “We are the last of our kind. You met the platoon, madam. They are the last hedgehogs, the last field mice, the last hares. Blossompouch is one of the last red squirrels. Carlysle and MacGregor are the last beavers. Cynthia Landrey is the last otter. General Smithers the last mole. And so it goes on. We are the only ones left. The Last Ones.”
Sally was shocked, “But what happened to the others?”
“Hunted.” The word hung in the air between them like an echo from a gunshot. He fell silent and although the young girl wasn’t sure what to do or say, she felt as if she should say something. Anything.
“So, you are…”
“Yes, exactly.” He stopped, straightened his back and puffed out his chest proudly. “I am the last red fox in the world. At your service, madam.”
Sunday, 20 September 2009
Chapter Fourteen: On and On (the terrible beauty encroaches)
With the small boy holding tight to the black mane, they flew along the river bank, which followed the frozen river as it twisted away from the village and into the surrounding farm land. Every so often a hedge or fence would block their path but the zebra leapt them cleanly and did not break the rhythm of his stride once. Despite his poor physical condition, Rodriguez displayed a strength which few looking at him would have thought possible.
On and on, they galloped and David had to pull the anorak hood up to protect his face from the biting wind and the sharp, cutting snowflakes in the air. On and on, for five minutes, ten, twenty, an hour and yet still there was no sign of the black ship which had abducted his older sister.
One last hedge to jump and the clean lines of fields gave way to woodland and forest. The icy river began to widen and the bank began slowly to rise above the frozen water.
On and on, the path of the river ahead now hidden behind its own twists and turns. Still they had not caught the slightest glimpse of the pirate ship.
The feel of the landscape began to change. The snow-covered ground continued to slope upwards, gently at first and then gradually more steeply. The trees changed from the familiar tall, broad-leafed oaks and beeches of the countryside that David was used to, slowly giving way to elegant pines; each metres tall, their delicate needles coated with snow crystals.
The river continued to fall away below and the banks stretched ever farther apart. Even the air began to taste different in a way that David could not put his finger on.
On and on, Rodriguez powered, puffs of steam chuffing from his nostrils into in the cold, night air. Still it snowed, gently but slowly covering everything in the open, the zebra’s hooves crunching down into the deepening white carpet which now lay at least two inches thick on the forest floor.
We have all felt the beauty and mystery of a snow-filled night. The familiar sights of our streets, gardens and towns changed so dramatically. The hard edges softened, familiar landmarks made invisible; our whole world becomes so different. The weather isolates us and controls our lives in a way that did not seem possible in the sultry days of summer.
We forget the sheer power that the weather can have. The power to freeze rivers, make roads treacherous, stop buses and trains, lock us into the warm pockets of our homes. Once, my parents told me, when they were children, even the sea had frozen. The ships near the coast had become trapped. Imagine that.
It is a terrible white beauty which glows with the possibility of magic. It makes us realise how fragile is the world we live in. How everything we know is on a knife edge and can disappear so completely so quickly.
Yes, I’ll say it again: it has a terrible beauty.
On and on. For brief seconds at first and then increasingly longer periods of time, the concern for his sister and parents became dulled by the beauty of the Christmas card landscape and the hypnotic rhythm of the galloping zebra.
Memories: Times when they were together; holidays, parties; days in the park. Times before the arguments started. Those terrible silent arguments when their mouths and the expressions on their faces had shown their fury but their eyes had revealed the pain that their anger tried so desperately to hide. The eight-year-old had seen everything and understood more than his parents had ever guessed. But there had been times of laughter and warmth too; times when the house had not simply been a house.
A sudden flurry hit him square in the face and David realised that he must have been dozing. He was not sure how long had passed but they had stopped high up on a forested hill, the landscape around them glowing with white light.
Rodriguez stretched his neck around, his chest rising and falling as his lungs pulled in gulps of air, and lightly pulled at the cuff of the boy’s anorak to gain his attention. David bent to the side to look the zebra in the eyes and smiled, puzzled [what?].
His gaze followed as the horse indicated with his long nose a spot far below them where the white river cut through valley between the forested hills. There, black against the ice, sped the dark ship, its sails bulging with the icy wind which propelled it through the countryside.
David tapped the zebra excitedly on the shoulder and pointed urgently down at the dark vessel.
Rodriguez bent round again to look the boy in the face. His eyes spoke: [fear / pain / are you sure?].
David was not sure where this beautiful creature had come from, how it had been hurt or why it had decided to help him. He just knew that despite its thin body and wounded back, it had carried him far into the winter countryside. He took the zebra’s head between his two small hands and looking the creature straight in the eyes, nodded [yes / please / thank you].
Neither boy nor horse saw the still giant figure in the trees uphill from them, light from the white landscape glinting from its dark eyes and razor-sharp teeth. It stood unseen, watching, as heavy flakes settled on its thick, brown fur and the sharp pointed metal hook that hung from its arm. It waited.
On and on, they galloped and David had to pull the anorak hood up to protect his face from the biting wind and the sharp, cutting snowflakes in the air. On and on, for five minutes, ten, twenty, an hour and yet still there was no sign of the black ship which had abducted his older sister.
One last hedge to jump and the clean lines of fields gave way to woodland and forest. The icy river began to widen and the bank began slowly to rise above the frozen water.
On and on, the path of the river ahead now hidden behind its own twists and turns. Still they had not caught the slightest glimpse of the pirate ship.
The feel of the landscape began to change. The snow-covered ground continued to slope upwards, gently at first and then gradually more steeply. The trees changed from the familiar tall, broad-leafed oaks and beeches of the countryside that David was used to, slowly giving way to elegant pines; each metres tall, their delicate needles coated with snow crystals.
The river continued to fall away below and the banks stretched ever farther apart. Even the air began to taste different in a way that David could not put his finger on.
On and on, Rodriguez powered, puffs of steam chuffing from his nostrils into in the cold, night air. Still it snowed, gently but slowly covering everything in the open, the zebra’s hooves crunching down into the deepening white carpet which now lay at least two inches thick on the forest floor.
We have all felt the beauty and mystery of a snow-filled night. The familiar sights of our streets, gardens and towns changed so dramatically. The hard edges softened, familiar landmarks made invisible; our whole world becomes so different. The weather isolates us and controls our lives in a way that did not seem possible in the sultry days of summer.
We forget the sheer power that the weather can have. The power to freeze rivers, make roads treacherous, stop buses and trains, lock us into the warm pockets of our homes. Once, my parents told me, when they were children, even the sea had frozen. The ships near the coast had become trapped. Imagine that.
It is a terrible white beauty which glows with the possibility of magic. It makes us realise how fragile is the world we live in. How everything we know is on a knife edge and can disappear so completely so quickly.
Yes, I’ll say it again: it has a terrible beauty.
On and on. For brief seconds at first and then increasingly longer periods of time, the concern for his sister and parents became dulled by the beauty of the Christmas card landscape and the hypnotic rhythm of the galloping zebra.
Memories: Times when they were together; holidays, parties; days in the park. Times before the arguments started. Those terrible silent arguments when their mouths and the expressions on their faces had shown their fury but their eyes had revealed the pain that their anger tried so desperately to hide. The eight-year-old had seen everything and understood more than his parents had ever guessed. But there had been times of laughter and warmth too; times when the house had not simply been a house.
A sudden flurry hit him square in the face and David realised that he must have been dozing. He was not sure how long had passed but they had stopped high up on a forested hill, the landscape around them glowing with white light.
Rodriguez stretched his neck around, his chest rising and falling as his lungs pulled in gulps of air, and lightly pulled at the cuff of the boy’s anorak to gain his attention. David bent to the side to look the zebra in the eyes and smiled, puzzled [what?].
His gaze followed as the horse indicated with his long nose a spot far below them where the white river cut through valley between the forested hills. There, black against the ice, sped the dark ship, its sails bulging with the icy wind which propelled it through the countryside.
David tapped the zebra excitedly on the shoulder and pointed urgently down at the dark vessel.
Rodriguez bent round again to look the boy in the face. His eyes spoke: [fear / pain / are you sure?].
David was not sure where this beautiful creature had come from, how it had been hurt or why it had decided to help him. He just knew that despite its thin body and wounded back, it had carried him far into the winter countryside. He took the zebra’s head between his two small hands and looking the creature straight in the eyes, nodded [yes / please / thank you].
Neither boy nor horse saw the still giant figure in the trees uphill from them, light from the white landscape glinting from its dark eyes and razor-sharp teeth. It stood unseen, watching, as heavy flakes settled on its thick, brown fur and the sharp pointed metal hook that hung from its arm. It waited.
Monday, 14 September 2009
Chapter Thirteen: The Huntress
Sally Hargreaves felt that events had gotten out of control. She had lost her parents and her brother. She had been kidnapped by pirates. A fox was talking to her.
Understandably, she felt more than a little anxious and not in control and when Sally felt this way, she reacted in the only way that she knew how. She got angry.
Some thoughts and facts about the subject of Sally and anger:
Thought no. 1: Sally didn’t ever mean to get angry; it just seemed to happen.
Fact no. 1: It happened quite a lot. In fact, it was something that she had got into trouble over quite a few times both at home and at school. Lately, there had been more than one letter sent home from her teachers.
Thought no. 2: Sometimes it seems that anger brings with it a certain clarity. You know exactly what you feel. There is no confusion. You do not have to face those other feelings bubbling beneath. The ones that perhaps suggest that nothing might get better; that your life is at the mercy of others; that you are a victim.
With anger at least, you feel like you might just achieve something. Even if it is just lashing out at the person or thing who has made you angry in the first place.
Thought no. 3: One thing I have learnt over the years: anger is often a hollow promise. It is like a drug that someone takes to forget all their problems. It promises more than it delivers. You bump back down to earth afterwards and your problems are still there. Often worse than before because after anger, you feel guilt. And guilt means that you feel ashamed and that you don’t like yourself or how you have acted.
And the more you start to despise yourself, the more angry you become. So the cycle continues.
Fact no. 2: It is a hard lesson that I have learnt. But Sally, at the age of eleven, had still to learn it.
“You – You –you…” She pointed an angry finger at the animal in front of her, glaring and moving a few threatening steps towards him. The fox pushed itself back on the wheels and grinned sheepishly.
“Yes?”
“You are a –“
“Madam?”
“FOX!”
“Field Marshall Jack Douglas at your command, madam.” He nodded.
However, the confirmation did little to calm Sally’s anger. He backed away as she took another step towards the fox.
“You are a talking fox! And this is a-”
“Yes.” The fox nodded in encouragement. The whole gathering of animals seemed to stiffen and tense in anticipation.
“This is a-“ Her mouth fell open, her face red, she shook her head in incomprehension. “a….a…This is a ship!”
The collective in front of her breathed a sigh of relief as she finally spat the words out and they nodded happily at each other, grinning at her astuteness. Their nodding ended abruptly, though, as the angry girl began to shout:
“WHAT AM I DOING ON A SHIP? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY PARENTS? WHERE’S MY BROTHER?” She advanced on the pack of animals, her fists clenched (Not to hurt them, you must believe me. It was just that clenched fists were another of those barriers that Sally threw up. If anybody around her saw the fists, they might not look at the true emotions which hid in her eyes).
The animals quickly moved back out of her path, some of the smaller ones scattering into the shadows and the fox, who appeared to be the leader of the group, pushed himself back on the wheeled contraption causing loud squeaks from some of the animals behind him as the wheels ran painfully over their paws.
“I assure you madam…”
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY BROTHER?” She advanced.
“It wasn’t us, we are as much…” He retreated.
“WHY DID YOU TAKE ME?” She continued forward.
“…prisoners on this…” He moved back.
“WHO ARE YOU?” She stormed towards him.
“Oh for Pete’s sake!” The fox stopped backing up and straightened his back, looking the angry young girl squarely in the eyes and forcing her to stop in her tracks. His voice and posture assumed a commanding tone. “Young lady will you just stop and listen!”
“I-“
“QUIET!” He barked the word, the fur rising on the back of his neck, and the order carried the weight, experience and knowledge of one who knew that what he usually ordered was obeyed without question. Sally fell silent immediately, her eyes wide in shock and the anger fizzed away as quickly as the steam when water is thrown upon a fire.
Her mouth dropped open but nothing came out. Quite simply, for the first time in a very long while, Sally Hargreaves was lost for words.
The animals quickly organised themselves into rows again, the smaller creatures who had disappeared into the shadows nervously reappearing.
“Now,” the fox said. “If we can start again, young lady. My name is Field Marshall Douglas and it is my great pleasure to greet you on behalf of the Last Ones.”
The fox straightened his back as he stood to attention and his tail bent into a sharp salute. The rows of creatures behind him shifted into even straighter rows.
Sally, who was not used to being ordered about herself, wasn’t sure how to react and before she was even aware of what she was doing said: ‘Um.. I’m Sally. Sally Hargreaves. I live at number 22-“
“No, no, no. Careful, madam. Name, rank and number only. Never give any more information than you have to. Especially not in front of the lower ranks.”
There were a few awkward coughs and whistles behind him, but one quick commanding sideways glance from the sleek, red-furred head was enough to silence the small platoon behind the fox.
“Oh … I…um…” Anger seemed to have deserted the girl along with the ability to form sentences. “Sorry.”
“Never mind. The shock and all that I suppose. Nothing that a good strong cup of army tea won’t fix. Sergeant Blossompouch!”
A small red squirrel stepped forward from the nearest row. His head, back and tail as straight as an iron bar as his tiny voice gave a squeak, a whistle and two short chirrups.
“Sergeant, a mug of tea for the young lady as quickly as you can. Strong and sweet, mind!”
And with one short, sharp squeak, the squirrel disappeared in a blur of fur and tail up the nearest wooden post and flitted across the ceiling, disappearing behind the beams.
The fox cocked a head nearer to Sally and whispered: “Can’t understand a word the chap says, you know, but makes a damned fine cup of tea. Now, if I could just introduce you to my fellow officers: General Peter Smithers and Brigadier Cynthia Landrey.”
The fox nodded to his right and Sally looked at the two creatures standing to attention there. The first was
a tiny brown mole who was cleaning a small pair of glasses on his fur and next to him was a sleek, shiny otter.
“Madam,” they both piped out at the same time. Sally held up her hand to wave a short greeting but remained, understandably, speechless.
“Between us,” the fox continued, “we make up the top ranking officers of this platoon. Most of the lads and lasses are volunteers but they are a willing lot on the whole. “
He turned to face the far end of the long room. “Now if you’ll just follow me I’ll give you the quick tour of Deck Thirteen.
“General. Brigadier.” He nodded a brief farewell to the other two creatures beside him and began to move using his forelegs to pull himself along on the strange wheeled contraption. Sally now saw that it was attached with leather straps to the hind quarters of the fox. Resting on the wood, she saw two furless bumps where the fox’s back legs should have been.
“Uh-hum,” Field Marshall Douglas cleared his throat and with a start Sally realised with deep embarrassment that she had been staring. Her face flushed a burning red.
“I … uh.. I’m really sorry I just…”
But the fox didn’t stay still long enough to hear her apology. With a burst of “Follow me, Miss Hargreaves!” he was off at a surprising speed, his forelegs scampering and the wheels bumping along the wooden planking of the floor behind. Sally had to hurry to keep up as he headed to the far side of the very (and now she saw just how) very long room. As they moved, lanterns were lit along the length of the deck; their flames creating pools of light.
“Our quarters, as you can see, stretch the entire length of Deck Thirteen.”
“But what is this ship?” Sally finally found that she could speak again. “Why am I here? Why are all the doors padlocked?”
“Ah good. Some very astute questions I’m glad to hear. Well,” the fox stopped in his tracks for a moment to consider her questions. “You are aboard the infamous ship, the Huntress, madam. Legends abound about the size and purpose of this terrible floating fortress but I appreciate that none quite prepare you for the reality.
“As tall as three houses with fifteen decks and crewed by ninety nine of the most terrible mercenaries to have ever set sail.”
Sally interrupted: “I saw a black flag. Are they…”
“Pirates? Yes, blasted peglegs! And take care, for there is not a one of them who would not sell their own mother if they thought they could profit by it. Ah here we go.”
A brief chattering and a flash of red brought them both to a stop as Sergeant Blossompouch curled down the nearest post, a small wooden tankard of steaming tea held tightly in its curled tail. The squirrel presented the mug to her and Sally had to stoop down to take it.
“Thank you very much.” The squirrel acknowledged this with a quick nod of the head, a short whistle and was gone again. Sally sniffed the steaming greenish liquid that had been given to her and was surprised to find that it had a sweet, spicy smell to it. She took a quick sip and a pleasant warmth and sweetness spread along her tongue and down her throat to her chest. “Mmmm.” The sound of pleasure was involuntary.
“Did you say that this was a prison ship?” she asked.
“Yes, sadly. And we, despite appearances to the contrary, are all prisoners. This is the prison deck - Deck Thirteen to be precise. Each one of these doors is a cell. There are precisely one hundred and thirteen cells; one hundred and eleven of which are currently occupied. Fifty six cells line each side of the deck and then there is one cell right at the end which is rather puzzling-“.
The fox stopped and fell silent. He cocked his head to the side and his ears twitched in concentration.
Then Sally heard it. A soft creaking sound that grew steadily louder.
“Oh no, not again!” It was the last thing she heard before the air was rent with a tearing, splintering noise. The wooden boards below her shifted slightly and then abruptly gave way completely!
Sally found herself falling into blackness and a small part of her realised that the loud screaming which filled her ears was her own.
Understandably, she felt more than a little anxious and not in control and when Sally felt this way, she reacted in the only way that she knew how. She got angry.
Some thoughts and facts about the subject of Sally and anger:
Thought no. 1: Sally didn’t ever mean to get angry; it just seemed to happen.
Fact no. 1: It happened quite a lot. In fact, it was something that she had got into trouble over quite a few times both at home and at school. Lately, there had been more than one letter sent home from her teachers.
Thought no. 2: Sometimes it seems that anger brings with it a certain clarity. You know exactly what you feel. There is no confusion. You do not have to face those other feelings bubbling beneath. The ones that perhaps suggest that nothing might get better; that your life is at the mercy of others; that you are a victim.
With anger at least, you feel like you might just achieve something. Even if it is just lashing out at the person or thing who has made you angry in the first place.
Thought no. 3: One thing I have learnt over the years: anger is often a hollow promise. It is like a drug that someone takes to forget all their problems. It promises more than it delivers. You bump back down to earth afterwards and your problems are still there. Often worse than before because after anger, you feel guilt. And guilt means that you feel ashamed and that you don’t like yourself or how you have acted.
And the more you start to despise yourself, the more angry you become. So the cycle continues.
Fact no. 2: It is a hard lesson that I have learnt. But Sally, at the age of eleven, had still to learn it.
“You – You –you…” She pointed an angry finger at the animal in front of her, glaring and moving a few threatening steps towards him. The fox pushed itself back on the wheels and grinned sheepishly.
“Yes?”
“You are a –“
“Madam?”
“FOX!”
“Field Marshall Jack Douglas at your command, madam.” He nodded.
However, the confirmation did little to calm Sally’s anger. He backed away as she took another step towards the fox.
“You are a talking fox! And this is a-”
“Yes.” The fox nodded in encouragement. The whole gathering of animals seemed to stiffen and tense in anticipation.
“This is a-“ Her mouth fell open, her face red, she shook her head in incomprehension. “a….a…This is a ship!”
The collective in front of her breathed a sigh of relief as she finally spat the words out and they nodded happily at each other, grinning at her astuteness. Their nodding ended abruptly, though, as the angry girl began to shout:
“WHAT AM I DOING ON A SHIP? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY PARENTS? WHERE’S MY BROTHER?” She advanced on the pack of animals, her fists clenched (Not to hurt them, you must believe me. It was just that clenched fists were another of those barriers that Sally threw up. If anybody around her saw the fists, they might not look at the true emotions which hid in her eyes).
The animals quickly moved back out of her path, some of the smaller ones scattering into the shadows and the fox, who appeared to be the leader of the group, pushed himself back on the wheeled contraption causing loud squeaks from some of the animals behind him as the wheels ran painfully over their paws.
“I assure you madam…”
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY BROTHER?” She advanced.
“It wasn’t us, we are as much…” He retreated.
“WHY DID YOU TAKE ME?” She continued forward.
“…prisoners on this…” He moved back.
“WHO ARE YOU?” She stormed towards him.
“Oh for Pete’s sake!” The fox stopped backing up and straightened his back, looking the angry young girl squarely in the eyes and forcing her to stop in her tracks. His voice and posture assumed a commanding tone. “Young lady will you just stop and listen!”
“I-“
“QUIET!” He barked the word, the fur rising on the back of his neck, and the order carried the weight, experience and knowledge of one who knew that what he usually ordered was obeyed without question. Sally fell silent immediately, her eyes wide in shock and the anger fizzed away as quickly as the steam when water is thrown upon a fire.
Her mouth dropped open but nothing came out. Quite simply, for the first time in a very long while, Sally Hargreaves was lost for words.
The animals quickly organised themselves into rows again, the smaller creatures who had disappeared into the shadows nervously reappearing.
“Now,” the fox said. “If we can start again, young lady. My name is Field Marshall Douglas and it is my great pleasure to greet you on behalf of the Last Ones.”
The fox straightened his back as he stood to attention and his tail bent into a sharp salute. The rows of creatures behind him shifted into even straighter rows.
Sally, who was not used to being ordered about herself, wasn’t sure how to react and before she was even aware of what she was doing said: ‘Um.. I’m Sally. Sally Hargreaves. I live at number 22-“
“No, no, no. Careful, madam. Name, rank and number only. Never give any more information than you have to. Especially not in front of the lower ranks.”
There were a few awkward coughs and whistles behind him, but one quick commanding sideways glance from the sleek, red-furred head was enough to silence the small platoon behind the fox.
“Oh … I…um…” Anger seemed to have deserted the girl along with the ability to form sentences. “Sorry.”
“Never mind. The shock and all that I suppose. Nothing that a good strong cup of army tea won’t fix. Sergeant Blossompouch!”
A small red squirrel stepped forward from the nearest row. His head, back and tail as straight as an iron bar as his tiny voice gave a squeak, a whistle and two short chirrups.
“Sergeant, a mug of tea for the young lady as quickly as you can. Strong and sweet, mind!”
And with one short, sharp squeak, the squirrel disappeared in a blur of fur and tail up the nearest wooden post and flitted across the ceiling, disappearing behind the beams.
The fox cocked a head nearer to Sally and whispered: “Can’t understand a word the chap says, you know, but makes a damned fine cup of tea. Now, if I could just introduce you to my fellow officers: General Peter Smithers and Brigadier Cynthia Landrey.”
The fox nodded to his right and Sally looked at the two creatures standing to attention there. The first was
a tiny brown mole who was cleaning a small pair of glasses on his fur and next to him was a sleek, shiny otter.
“Madam,” they both piped out at the same time. Sally held up her hand to wave a short greeting but remained, understandably, speechless.
“Between us,” the fox continued, “we make up the top ranking officers of this platoon. Most of the lads and lasses are volunteers but they are a willing lot on the whole. “
He turned to face the far end of the long room. “Now if you’ll just follow me I’ll give you the quick tour of Deck Thirteen.
“General. Brigadier.” He nodded a brief farewell to the other two creatures beside him and began to move using his forelegs to pull himself along on the strange wheeled contraption. Sally now saw that it was attached with leather straps to the hind quarters of the fox. Resting on the wood, she saw two furless bumps where the fox’s back legs should have been.
“Uh-hum,” Field Marshall Douglas cleared his throat and with a start Sally realised with deep embarrassment that she had been staring. Her face flushed a burning red.
“I … uh.. I’m really sorry I just…”
But the fox didn’t stay still long enough to hear her apology. With a burst of “Follow me, Miss Hargreaves!” he was off at a surprising speed, his forelegs scampering and the wheels bumping along the wooden planking of the floor behind. Sally had to hurry to keep up as he headed to the far side of the very (and now she saw just how) very long room. As they moved, lanterns were lit along the length of the deck; their flames creating pools of light.
“Our quarters, as you can see, stretch the entire length of Deck Thirteen.”
“But what is this ship?” Sally finally found that she could speak again. “Why am I here? Why are all the doors padlocked?”
“Ah good. Some very astute questions I’m glad to hear. Well,” the fox stopped in his tracks for a moment to consider her questions. “You are aboard the infamous ship, the Huntress, madam. Legends abound about the size and purpose of this terrible floating fortress but I appreciate that none quite prepare you for the reality.
“As tall as three houses with fifteen decks and crewed by ninety nine of the most terrible mercenaries to have ever set sail.”
Sally interrupted: “I saw a black flag. Are they…”
“Pirates? Yes, blasted peglegs! And take care, for there is not a one of them who would not sell their own mother if they thought they could profit by it. Ah here we go.”
A brief chattering and a flash of red brought them both to a stop as Sergeant Blossompouch curled down the nearest post, a small wooden tankard of steaming tea held tightly in its curled tail. The squirrel presented the mug to her and Sally had to stoop down to take it.
“Thank you very much.” The squirrel acknowledged this with a quick nod of the head, a short whistle and was gone again. Sally sniffed the steaming greenish liquid that had been given to her and was surprised to find that it had a sweet, spicy smell to it. She took a quick sip and a pleasant warmth and sweetness spread along her tongue and down her throat to her chest. “Mmmm.” The sound of pleasure was involuntary.
“Did you say that this was a prison ship?” she asked.
“Yes, sadly. And we, despite appearances to the contrary, are all prisoners. This is the prison deck - Deck Thirteen to be precise. Each one of these doors is a cell. There are precisely one hundred and thirteen cells; one hundred and eleven of which are currently occupied. Fifty six cells line each side of the deck and then there is one cell right at the end which is rather puzzling-“.
The fox stopped and fell silent. He cocked his head to the side and his ears twitched in concentration.
Then Sally heard it. A soft creaking sound that grew steadily louder.
“Oh no, not again!” It was the last thing she heard before the air was rent with a tearing, splintering noise. The wooden boards below her shifted slightly and then abruptly gave way completely!
Sally found herself falling into blackness and a small part of her realised that the loud screaming which filled her ears was her own.
Tuesday, 8 September 2009
Chapter Twelve: Breakthrough
Communication between a boy and a zebra is, you would be right in thinking, difficult at the best of times. Imagine then how much more difficult it was when the boy communicated through sign language and the zebra only spoke Spanish (And a very little English, David always liked to remind me).
There was one thing, however, that they both had in common: the most important basis for any type of communication: they genuinely wanted to understand each other.
So there they stood and looked at each other. The boy and zebra in the snow on this strange night. Together, but each lost in his own world; not knowing how to let the other in.
Rodriguez looked into the face of the young boy: red cheeks glistening with tear trails, eyes filled with sadness and, pain. David looked up at the beast which stood over him and saw the same pain reflected back from those large, brown eyes. He glanced down at the chains around the creature’s legs and understood that he was not the only one who had had something precious stolen by the intruders.
And there it was. Something recognised. Something that both understood. Something shared. It was a start; something to build upon.
David placed his hands on one of the thick upper legs of the creature and made as if to pull him down the garden path.
The zebra frowned in confusion: [what?].
The boy pulled at the massive leg again and then pointed towards the lake. The departed pirate ship: [there].
Rodriguez understood but shook his head.
Again the boy pointed but the zebra snorted and would not budge. He nodded down at the chains binding his legs.
David, his eyes lighting up as a sudden idea entered his head, indicated with his hands for the creature to stay where it was and raced around the corner of the house, disappearing into the open front door.
When he reappeared minutes later, he was carrying his father’s tool box and had dressed for the weather: thick jeans tucked into sturdy boots; a padded anorak over a warm jumper; a woolly hat and scarf.
He even remembered to pull the door shut behind him, taking a second to lock it with a spare key which he had grabbed from the hallway.
Another ten minutes and the young face, red with exertion, grinned up at the zebra through cold puffs of air. His dad’s hacksaw had made short work of the chains.
The zebra moved his legs, stretching out. Back, forward, to the side. A large grin spread across his face and without warning he burst into a huge leap in the air, hooves clashing together (a thing, David later told me, he wasn’t entirely sure that a zebra should be able to do) in sheer joy at the freedom of being able to move properly once more.
David stood watching, and despite the worry which still clouded his eyes, a massive smile appeared on his face. Rodriguez, his short celebration finished, trotted a step towards the boy, bent his neck down and gently nuzzled the boy’s chest. David understood and gave a brief modest shrug of his shoulders [you’re welcome].
Then fumbling in his coat pocket, he pulled out a small tablet of paper (the type that you leave next to telephones so that you can scribble a message down quickly) and a pencil. David started to write, his tongue sticking from the side of his mouth in concentration. Once he had finished he held the paper up so that the zebra could see it. The following words were written:
My name is David.
The zebra bent close, almost touching the paper in front of him and squinted down at the letters the boy had written. He frowned, took a step back and shook his head. David saw the confusion in the zebra’s eyes. The boy pointed to the words on the pad and then jabbed a finger at his own chest, but Rodriguez’s eyes softened in apology and he shook his head again.
With a sudden realisation David understood that the zebra could not read. But refusing to admit defeat, he flipped over to the next piece of paper and began to scribble rapidly. The zebra stood patiently watching and one brief sketch later, David held up the tablet of paper one more time:
He pointed to himself and instinctively signed the word for sister. This time, there was a flash of understanding in the zebra’s eyes.
“Tu hermana?” The zebra asked and David nodded vigorously. He saw the look of comprehension in the creature’s eyes and he signed at him [please]. Then he turned and pointed once more, firmly, resolutely towards the pond.
The yellow flame of fear flared up behind the horse’s dark pupils and the black mane waved back and forth through the snowy air as yet again Rodriguez made his feelings clear. He took two steps backwards and bowed his head down towards the ground: a definite refusal.
The boy’s signs became frantic: [please please]: a desperate, pleading look on his face. Tears squeezed out of the corner of his eyes.
The zebra, unable to look the boy in the eyes, stared down at the ground and slowly continued to shake his head. His bowed almost broken posture communicated to the boy what his lips could not: [sorry no sorry].
When Rodriguez finally looked up, David had gone. He was walking quickly down the path towards the garden gate. His straight, sure back spoke of a strength within the small frame and a willingness to do whatever it took to rescue his sister.
The horse sighed, partly in exasperation, partly in guilty anger at himself. He shook his head again, but nobody was watching. It was only Rodriguez himself now, alone with his own refusal to help the boy who had unchained him. This small boy.
David walked towards the garden gate. Tears streamed down his cheeks but fierce determination was etched into his creased brow. He didn’t know how he was going to do it but he must catch up with that ship. They had taken Sally and probably his parents too!
His determination was such that it was a second or two before he noticed the rumbling vibration from the path behind him. Then suddenly with a sudden whip of wind in his face and a ballooning thrill in his stomach, he found himself in the air for the second time that night.
In mid-gallop, the zebra had grabbed the back of the young boy’s anorak with his teeth, and with one swift jerk of that large head, Rodriguez swung David up, over his neck and onto his vast, striped back.
The boy grabbed quickly onto the soft, black mane to stop himself from falling. Despite the dark worry which he carried inside, he couldn’t help but feel a joyful excitement as the zebra almost flew out of the garden gate, and down towards the pond.
Rodriguez did not hesitate for a second as he leapt the pond fence cleanly. Landing on the other side, the zebra briefly skidded on an icy patch before quickly regaining his footing. Then he was off, surefooted, galloping around the pond, past the mouth of the river and along its banks. As fast as the wind. The boy and the zebra.
The pursuit had begun.
THE END OF PART ONE
There was one thing, however, that they both had in common: the most important basis for any type of communication: they genuinely wanted to understand each other.
So there they stood and looked at each other. The boy and zebra in the snow on this strange night. Together, but each lost in his own world; not knowing how to let the other in.
Rodriguez looked into the face of the young boy: red cheeks glistening with tear trails, eyes filled with sadness and, pain. David looked up at the beast which stood over him and saw the same pain reflected back from those large, brown eyes. He glanced down at the chains around the creature’s legs and understood that he was not the only one who had had something precious stolen by the intruders.
And there it was. Something recognised. Something that both understood. Something shared. It was a start; something to build upon.
David placed his hands on one of the thick upper legs of the creature and made as if to pull him down the garden path.
The zebra frowned in confusion: [what?].
The boy pulled at the massive leg again and then pointed towards the lake. The departed pirate ship: [there].
Rodriguez understood but shook his head.
Again the boy pointed but the zebra snorted and would not budge. He nodded down at the chains binding his legs.
David, his eyes lighting up as a sudden idea entered his head, indicated with his hands for the creature to stay where it was and raced around the corner of the house, disappearing into the open front door.
When he reappeared minutes later, he was carrying his father’s tool box and had dressed for the weather: thick jeans tucked into sturdy boots; a padded anorak over a warm jumper; a woolly hat and scarf.
He even remembered to pull the door shut behind him, taking a second to lock it with a spare key which he had grabbed from the hallway.
Another ten minutes and the young face, red with exertion, grinned up at the zebra through cold puffs of air. His dad’s hacksaw had made short work of the chains.
The zebra moved his legs, stretching out. Back, forward, to the side. A large grin spread across his face and without warning he burst into a huge leap in the air, hooves clashing together (a thing, David later told me, he wasn’t entirely sure that a zebra should be able to do) in sheer joy at the freedom of being able to move properly once more.
David stood watching, and despite the worry which still clouded his eyes, a massive smile appeared on his face. Rodriguez, his short celebration finished, trotted a step towards the boy, bent his neck down and gently nuzzled the boy’s chest. David understood and gave a brief modest shrug of his shoulders [you’re welcome].
Then fumbling in his coat pocket, he pulled out a small tablet of paper (the type that you leave next to telephones so that you can scribble a message down quickly) and a pencil. David started to write, his tongue sticking from the side of his mouth in concentration. Once he had finished he held the paper up so that the zebra could see it. The following words were written:
My name is David.
The zebra bent close, almost touching the paper in front of him and squinted down at the letters the boy had written. He frowned, took a step back and shook his head. David saw the confusion in the zebra’s eyes. The boy pointed to the words on the pad and then jabbed a finger at his own chest, but Rodriguez’s eyes softened in apology and he shook his head again.
With a sudden realisation David understood that the zebra could not read. But refusing to admit defeat, he flipped over to the next piece of paper and began to scribble rapidly. The zebra stood patiently watching and one brief sketch later, David held up the tablet of paper one more time:
He pointed to himself and instinctively signed the word for sister. This time, there was a flash of understanding in the zebra’s eyes.
“Tu hermana?” The zebra asked and David nodded vigorously. He saw the look of comprehension in the creature’s eyes and he signed at him [please]. Then he turned and pointed once more, firmly, resolutely towards the pond.
The yellow flame of fear flared up behind the horse’s dark pupils and the black mane waved back and forth through the snowy air as yet again Rodriguez made his feelings clear. He took two steps backwards and bowed his head down towards the ground: a definite refusal.
The boy’s signs became frantic: [please please]: a desperate, pleading look on his face. Tears squeezed out of the corner of his eyes.
The zebra, unable to look the boy in the eyes, stared down at the ground and slowly continued to shake his head. His bowed almost broken posture communicated to the boy what his lips could not: [sorry no sorry].
When Rodriguez finally looked up, David had gone. He was walking quickly down the path towards the garden gate. His straight, sure back spoke of a strength within the small frame and a willingness to do whatever it took to rescue his sister.
The horse sighed, partly in exasperation, partly in guilty anger at himself. He shook his head again, but nobody was watching. It was only Rodriguez himself now, alone with his own refusal to help the boy who had unchained him. This small boy.
David walked towards the garden gate. Tears streamed down his cheeks but fierce determination was etched into his creased brow. He didn’t know how he was going to do it but he must catch up with that ship. They had taken Sally and probably his parents too!
His determination was such that it was a second or two before he noticed the rumbling vibration from the path behind him. Then suddenly with a sudden whip of wind in his face and a ballooning thrill in his stomach, he found himself in the air for the second time that night.
In mid-gallop, the zebra had grabbed the back of the young boy’s anorak with his teeth, and with one swift jerk of that large head, Rodriguez swung David up, over his neck and onto his vast, striped back.
The boy grabbed quickly onto the soft, black mane to stop himself from falling. Despite the dark worry which he carried inside, he couldn’t help but feel a joyful excitement as the zebra almost flew out of the garden gate, and down towards the pond.
Rodriguez did not hesitate for a second as he leapt the pond fence cleanly. Landing on the other side, the zebra briefly skidded on an icy patch before quickly regaining his footing. Then he was off, surefooted, galloping around the pond, past the mouth of the river and along its banks. As fast as the wind. The boy and the zebra.
The pursuit had begun.
THE END OF PART ONE
Friday, 4 September 2009
Chapter Eleven: Untied
The strange voice cut through the darkness again. “Hold still, young lady. We’ll have you free in a jiffy.”
Despite its reassuring tone (and despite herself), icy fear flooded through Sally’s veins as the red pinpricks in the shadows came closer still. She squeezed her eyes tight and desperately repeated to herself. Please wake up. Please wake up.
Scurrying and scratching noises erupted around her feet and the small of her back where her hands were tied, and the creatures, whatever they were, began to tug at the bindings. She felt the brushing of short, prickly fur on the skin of her wrists and ankles. Curiosity forced her to look again and she saw that the floor around her seemed alive with small, shadowy creatures. Still she did not scream. Instead, she bit her lower lip hard.
More things you should know about Sally:
1. I have told you already that Sally was tougher than a girl of her age should be. Well, she was the way she was for a reason. And that reason was that she felt like she had to be strong all the time, that she had to be brave. She didn’t want to give her parents any more reasons to be angry and argue.
2. But as hard as she tried, things just never seemed to work out the way she had planned. In fact, she could remember a few occasions when the best of intentions on her part had resulted in terrible arguments (Like the time: when silence had fallen over the house like a dark, heavy cloud and she had tried to help by trying to by making a surprise lunch. The sound of the plate shattering had been nothing compared to the eruption of her parents’ anger. The shouting soon became about something more than just broken plates and she had sat silently as the door had slammed behind her mother. It had been a whole day before she had come back that time).
3. And so she set up a protective barrier around herself; one, which kept hidden the types of feelings which, she believed, might lead to other people becoming angry.
4. Now, sadly, it had come to the point where she tried to hide these feelings even from herself and the parts of her that felt sadness and fear had hardened like healing skin around a wound.
No, Sally did not like to show her feelings to anyone; not even the monsters that were about to devour her. She bit her lower lip hard to stop any noise emerging.
It wasn’t long, though, before she realised that these furry creatures didn’t seem intent on hurting her at all. Instead, they seemed more interested in the ropes which tied her wrists and ankles. After a few uncomfortable tugs and jerks, the bonds began to give slightly and Sally found that she could move her wrists a fraction.
Another few seconds and they were undone completely and her arms came apart. Immediately, a painful burning sensation crept up her wrists and she rubbed her hands together rapidly to help the blood flow back to the tips of her fingers.
As soon as her legs were free, she painfully crept to her feet and jumped from foot to foot to relieve the sharp sensation of pins and needles.
“Better?” asked the voice from the darkness.
“Um Y-yes,” Sally stuttered . “Th -thank you …um…whoever you are.”
No sooner had she stopped speaking when a light blazed into life in the lantern swinging above. Sally had been in the dark for so long that it stung her eyes, forcing her to squeeze them shut. It took a while for the pain to subside and slowly opening them a fraction at a time, she became aware of the bizarre scene in front of her.
Lined up in the circle of light cast by the lantern, stood an assortment of very small creatures which included: squirrels, field mice, an otter, hedgehogs and …were they… meerkats?
“Stand to attention lads!” It was the peculiarly British voice that had spoken to her earlier and it came from a very red, very handsome-looking fox.
Only, this fox was missing his back legs and was resting on what looked like half of a wooden skateboard on two large wheels. He used his front legs to manoeuvre backwards a little so that he could look up at the girl who stood in front of him.
“On behalf of the Last Ones and myself, may I welcome you, madam, to, the Huntress, the largest prison ship to sail the high seas!”
Despite its reassuring tone (and despite herself), icy fear flooded through Sally’s veins as the red pinpricks in the shadows came closer still. She squeezed her eyes tight and desperately repeated to herself. Please wake up. Please wake up.
Scurrying and scratching noises erupted around her feet and the small of her back where her hands were tied, and the creatures, whatever they were, began to tug at the bindings. She felt the brushing of short, prickly fur on the skin of her wrists and ankles. Curiosity forced her to look again and she saw that the floor around her seemed alive with small, shadowy creatures. Still she did not scream. Instead, she bit her lower lip hard.
More things you should know about Sally:
1. I have told you already that Sally was tougher than a girl of her age should be. Well, she was the way she was for a reason. And that reason was that she felt like she had to be strong all the time, that she had to be brave. She didn’t want to give her parents any more reasons to be angry and argue.
2. But as hard as she tried, things just never seemed to work out the way she had planned. In fact, she could remember a few occasions when the best of intentions on her part had resulted in terrible arguments (Like the time: when silence had fallen over the house like a dark, heavy cloud and she had tried to help by trying to by making a surprise lunch. The sound of the plate shattering had been nothing compared to the eruption of her parents’ anger. The shouting soon became about something more than just broken plates and she had sat silently as the door had slammed behind her mother. It had been a whole day before she had come back that time).
3. And so she set up a protective barrier around herself; one, which kept hidden the types of feelings which, she believed, might lead to other people becoming angry.
4. Now, sadly, it had come to the point where she tried to hide these feelings even from herself and the parts of her that felt sadness and fear had hardened like healing skin around a wound.
No, Sally did not like to show her feelings to anyone; not even the monsters that were about to devour her. She bit her lower lip hard to stop any noise emerging.
It wasn’t long, though, before she realised that these furry creatures didn’t seem intent on hurting her at all. Instead, they seemed more interested in the ropes which tied her wrists and ankles. After a few uncomfortable tugs and jerks, the bonds began to give slightly and Sally found that she could move her wrists a fraction.
Another few seconds and they were undone completely and her arms came apart. Immediately, a painful burning sensation crept up her wrists and she rubbed her hands together rapidly to help the blood flow back to the tips of her fingers.
As soon as her legs were free, she painfully crept to her feet and jumped from foot to foot to relieve the sharp sensation of pins and needles.
“Better?” asked the voice from the darkness.
“Um Y-yes,” Sally stuttered . “Th -thank you …um…whoever you are.”
No sooner had she stopped speaking when a light blazed into life in the lantern swinging above. Sally had been in the dark for so long that it stung her eyes, forcing her to squeeze them shut. It took a while for the pain to subside and slowly opening them a fraction at a time, she became aware of the bizarre scene in front of her.
Lined up in the circle of light cast by the lantern, stood an assortment of very small creatures which included: squirrels, field mice, an otter, hedgehogs and …were they… meerkats?
“Stand to attention lads!” It was the peculiarly British voice that had spoken to her earlier and it came from a very red, very handsome-looking fox.
Only, this fox was missing his back legs and was resting on what looked like half of a wooden skateboard on two large wheels. He used his front legs to manoeuvre backwards a little so that he could look up at the girl who stood in front of him.
“On behalf of the Last Ones and myself, may I welcome you, madam, to, the Huntress, the largest prison ship to sail the high seas!”
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