The Island Of Destiny. Cameron Stelzer

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      ‘Are we there yet?’ he muttered in a less than pleasant voice.

      ‘Shallow water dead ahead!’ Ruby cried.

      Whisker looked up. The Apple Pie approached two final rocks. One lay to his near left, and the other further to his right.

      ‘Turn her starboard, Captain,’ he said. ‘We can squeeze between the rocks and still maintain our course.’

      Smudge buzzed his wings frantically and pointed to the starboard side of the ship.

      ‘What is it?’ Horace asked with wide eyes.

      Ruby darted to the bulwark.

      ‘More rocks!’ she exclaimed. ‘Just below the surface – everywhere. We’ll run aground.’

      ‘That can’t be,’ Whisker cried. ‘The map says …’

      ‘… nothing about low tide,’ Pete cut in.

      Whisker looked ahead to the shore. A long strip of wet sand extended from the Rock of Hope to the sea. The tide was fully out. He felt his tail work itself into a knot.

      ‘Rotten pies to low tide,’ Horace groaned.

      Pete screwed up his nose. ‘Port side, Captain. Circle around the rocks. Before we bottom out.’

      The Captain let out a low growl. ‘Yet again, it seems we have no other choice. If we maintain a narrow berth around the rock on the left, we can hopefully centre up for the final approach.’

      Whisker didn’t respond. His eyes were transfixed on the rocky shape, rising like a tombstone from the crashing waves. He wasn’t superstitious, but anyone could see it was a bad omen – a very bad omen.

      ‘SAILS OUT!’ the Captain bellowed, swinging the wheel hard left. ‘And make it snappy. I want us past that rock in sixty seconds.’

      The crew rushed to the sails and began to work the ropes.

      ‘Whisker, I need you on the jib,’ Ruby shouted.

      Whisker leapt down the stairs and raced to the bow of the ship, still clutching the key in his paws. While Ruby and the mice adjusted the two larger sails, Whisker added some slack to the giant pair of underpants.

      He edged along the bowsprit and peered down. The shallow rocks beneath the surface suddenly disappeared as the Apple Pie glided over the edge of a deep ravine. He looked ahead to see the Rock of Hope vanish behind the black pillar of rock. Like a solar eclipse on midsummer’s day, their guiding light was gone – the Pie Rats were at the mercy of the Treacherous Sea.

      ‘Prepare to turn,’ the Captain commanded.

      The crew heaved on the ropes, swivelling the sails around to capture the gusty wind. The Apple Pie began curving around the rock.

      Seconds passed and Whisker grew anxious. He watched as the tip of the shoreline grew visible, the sand glowing yellow in the afternoon sunshine.

      Almost there … Whisker thought.

      The western side of the estuary came into view and then, finally, Whisker saw what he was looking for. As the Apple Pie straightened up, the Rock of Hope reappeared from behind the last rock of the lagoon.

      Whisker sighed with relief. The eclipse was over. In moments they would be in the safety of the shallows.

      THUD!

      Out of nowhere, a monstrous blow echoed through the hull of the ship, toppling barrels and shattering windows. Whisker grabbed the jib line to steady himself. Behind him, Pete slipped on his pencil and tumbled onto the deck. The mice squeaked in terror.

      The vibrations stopped and the crew grew silent, listening attentively to the sounds of the sea. All they heard was the deck of the Apple Pie creaking softly and the sails flapping quietly in the wind.

      ‘Oh my precious paws,’ Pete groaned, staggering to his feet. ‘What the flaming rat’s tail was that?’

      Horace gripped the cannon with a terrified look on his face. ‘Th-th-the creature.’

      Whisker peered into the dark water at the front of the ship, hoping the hull had simply scraped a rock. Fred scanned the starboard side for clues. They saw nothing.

      ‘Check the hull for damage …’ the Captain began. He never finished his sentence.

      There was a loud SPLASH from the port side of the ship and an enormous head rose from the waves. Its brown-speckled skin glistened in the dying rays of the sun, its beady eyes stared down from either side of its hideous snout and its mouth curved open to reveal not one but two sets of savage jaws.

      It was the most terrifying creature Whisker had ever seen. It wasn’t a beast of mythology. It was real, very real and Whisker didn’t need a second look to know what it was.

      ‘GIANT MORAY EEL!’ he bellowed. ‘PORT SIDE!’

      The eel’s slender body rose higher into the air, propelled by its serpentine tail. Its dorsal fin rippled along its spine like seaweed in a tidal current. It hovered over the ship. Then it struck. Teeth bared, it ripped through the foresail.

      Ruby and Mr Tribble leapt clear as the eel’s body battered the mast. The huge fork toppled backwards, tearing the jib sail from its line. Whisker was flung from the bowsprit and hurtled towards the deck.

      He threw his paws forward to break his impact but the force of the landing catapulted the key from his paws. He watched in horror as it spun through the air, bounced off the bulwark, and disappeared into a shower of spray.

      A moment later, the eel’s enormous tail crashed onto the deck, dragging the front of the ship under the waves. Whisker struggled to stay afloat as the surge of water engulfed him. He heard the screams of the twins, desperately clutching the mainmast, and glimpsed the black figure of the Captain tumbling from the helm.

      The eel’s tail slid over the bulwark and the bow of the ship catapulted upwards in a wave of water. Spitting out salt water, Whisker somersaulted through the air, landed on his backside and skidded to a halt on the slippery boards.

      He raised his nose and frantically scanned the deck for the key. It was nowhere in sight. Before Whisker could pick himself up, the eel had reared its vicious head out of the sea.

      A loud BOOM echoed in Whisker’s left ear and a crude net of ropes and sinkers exploded from Horace’s cannon. The stray ends of long ropes snagged on broken barrels and twisted around the fallen mast. The rest of the net shot upwards, smothering the eel’s head in a mass of knotted cords.

      The enraged creature snapped its jaws, trying to tear through the net, but the ropes coiled around its teeth and held fast. In a fury, it lowered its head and plunged under the waves.

      Barrels and boards tumbled overboard. Tangled ropes tightened. With a hard tug, the eel began dragging the Apple Pie away from the shore.

      Whisker heard a loud cry and turned to see the Captain sliding towards a gaping hole in the bulwark, struggling СКАЧАТЬ