Atticus Claw Goes Ashore (2 page)

‘Well?’ said Thomas. ‘What shall we do now?’

Atticus looked up. All the kittens were staring at him expectantly.

‘Let’s go and show it to Mr Tucker,’ Atticus suggested. ‘He’s a sailor. He’s bound to know what it means.’

Atticus collected the other group of kittens and they headed off to get the bus to Toffly Hall.

2

At Toffly Hall Mrs Cheddar was hanging up the banner for the World Beard-Jumper Competition with Mrs Tucker when Atticus stepped off the bus with the kittens. Each woman was perched on a tall stepladder at one of the gateposts.

‘Left a bit!’ Mrs Cheddar said. She looked down. ‘Oh, hello, Atticus! You’re just in time.’

Just in time for what?
Atticus hoped Mrs Cheddar wouldn’t ask him to help hang the banner. He couldn’t stand heights. Besides, the preparations for the beard-jumper competition would have to wait. Atticus had a feeling the message in the bottle was much more important. Mimi called it instinct: that funny feeling you got when you just
knew
something without being told. He started meowing loudly.

‘Not now, Atticus,’ Mrs Tucker said crossly. ‘Can’t you see I don’t have any sardines on me at the moment?’

Atticus’s chewed ear drooped. The problem with humans was that they expected cats to understand English but
they
never made any effort to understand Cat. They always assumed when he started meowing that he wanted food when very often he was trying to tell them something completely different. (Actually, at that particular moment he wouldn’t have said no to food, but that wasn’t the point.)

‘Go and find the children, Atticus,’ Mrs Cheddar said kindly. ‘They’re up at the hall with Mr Tucker,
sorting out the prizes for the fancy dress. I’m sure they’ll have a snack for you. Then they’ll find you something to do.’

The children! That was a good idea. Atticus hurried up the drive. The bottle, which was tied in the flap of his red handkerchief, clunked against his neck. The kittens chased after him, playing around his legs.

‘Atticus!’ Callie greeted him at the front door.

The kittens tumbled into the house and made straight for the sitting room to watch TV. All except Thomas, who remained with Atticus.

‘We were hoping you’d be back soon!’ Callie said, bending down to pick Atticus up. Atticus backed away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a cuddle: it was more that he was worried the bottle might smash if it dropped on the floor. And he didn’t want to look babyish in front of Thomas when he was supposed to be police-catting.

‘Oh, I get it!’ Callie seemed to understand. She rubbed his ears instead. ‘Wait, what’s this?’ Her fingers felt the handkerchief.

Atticus lifted his chin so that she could remove the bottle.

‘Michael!’ she called. ‘Come and look what Atticus has brought!’

Atticus purred. At least Callie realised it was important. Children were clever, like cats.

‘A message in a bottle!’ Michael took the bottle from his sister carefully and examined it. ‘Where did you find it, Atticus? On the beach?’

Atticus purred louder. Then he remembered that technically it was Thomas who found the bottle, not him. He nudged the kitten forward.

‘Thomas found it?’ Callie picked Thomas up. ‘Well done, Thomas!’

Atticus’s good ear drooped. He wasn’t used to sharing Callie and Michael with other cats. He didn’t like it very much.

‘Let’s go and show Mr Tucker,’ Michael suggested.

The children shot off across the hall with Thomas. Atticus scrambled after them, his paws slipping on the polished floor.

Mr Tucker was in the kitchen. He was standing on a stool leaning into a cupboard.

‘What are you looking for?’ Callie asked, putting Thomas down.

Mr Tucker jumped in surprise. The stool wobbled dangerously.

Atticus backed away. Mr Tucker had a wooden leg. Many years ago a giant lobster had clipped his real leg off when he was out on his boat. He could topple at any moment.

Mr Tucker regained his balance. ‘I’s not looking for anything,’ he hissed. ‘I’s hidin’ me beard-jumper potion. In case any of those rascals comin’ to the competition try and get their hands on it.’ He closed the cupboard and clambered off the stool.

‘The other fishermen wouldn’t steal it,’ Michael said. ‘Would they?’

‘I’s not talkin’ about the other fishermen,’ Mr Tucker said darkly. ‘I’s talkin’ about the pirates.’

‘Pirates!’ Callie gasped.

‘Aye, pirates,’ Mr Tucker said tetchily. ‘Who else did youze think would be comin’ to a beard-jumper competition? Apart from fishermen.’

Atticus was listening intently to the conversation.
Pirates?!
He wondered if Mrs Tucker knew.

‘Does Mrs Tucker know?’ Michael enquired.

Mr Tucker went bright red. He didn’t say anything.

‘She doesn’t, does she?’ Callie persisted.

‘She doesn’t need to,’ Mr Tucker blustered. ‘That’s why we’s havin’ the prizes for the fancy dress, see? So when the pirates come Mrs Tucker doesn’t know they’s
real
pirates: she just thinks they’s in fancy dress!’

‘But …’ the children said together.

‘And don’t tell her!’ Mr Tucker said crossly. ‘Or she’ll cancel the whole thing.’

Atticus felt his fur prickle. He knew about pirates. Michael and Callie sometimes read pirate stories to him at bedtime and he’d watched movies about them on TV when everyone was out. Atticus didn’t like the look of them. Pirates had swords and eye patches and bad teeth. They made people scrub decks and walk the plank. He didn’t feel very comfortable at the thought of them wandering round Toffly Hall pretending to be in fancy dress.

The children didn’t seem too sure about it either.

‘Maybe we should tell Dad?’ Callie whispered to her brother. ‘In case there’s any trouble.’

Inspector Cheddar was in charge of security at the World Beard-Jumper Competition. Atticus knew for a fact he wasn’t expecting ‘any trouble’ because Atticus was the only other police officer coming. Everyone else was going to Scotland Yard for a day out with Inspector Cheddar’s boss, the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth.

Mr Tucker overheard her. ‘Don’t, Callie!’ he pleaded. ‘Your dad’ll ’ave ’em all arrested before you can say “shiver me timbers”.’ He sat down heavily on the stool. To Atticus’s horror a fat tear trickled down his cheek and dropped on to his beard-jumper. ‘Youze don’t knows what this means to me,’ Mr Tucker sobbed. ‘I’s always wanted to host the World Beard-Jumper Competition ever since I was a baby. There was never room at the cottage. This is me big chance.’

(Mr and Mrs Tucker used to live in a cottage by the sea until Atticus came along. Thanks to him they discovered they had a priceless ruby necklace in the attic and bought Toffly Hall instead.)

‘Please!’ Mr Tucker wailed.

Atticus jumped into Mr Tucker’s lap. Poor Mr Tucker! He seemed really upset. Besides, there were a few tasty morsels of fish lurking in his beard-jumper, which needed to be removed before the competition to make him look smart. Atticus started picking at it with his claws. Mr Tucker stroked Atticus absently. Atticus’s presence seemed to soothe him. He stopped sobbing.

‘I suppose so,’ Callie said reluctantly.

‘As long as you
promise
they won’t do anything bad,’ Michael added.

‘Of course they’s won’t!’ Mr Tucker beamed. ‘They’ll be as good as gold. The only one as would cause any trouble isn’t on the guest list. I left him off on purpose.’

‘Who’s that?’ Callie asked.

‘Captain Black Beard-Jumper.’ Mr Tucker shivered. ‘The most fearsome pirate on the sea. He’s got the biggest beard-jumper known to chins.’ He winked at Atticus. ‘With him out of the picture, I should win the competition!’

‘I’m still not sure …’ Callie hesitated. ‘What do you think, Michael?’

‘I don’t know,’ Michael said. ‘Let’s ask Atticus.
He’s the police cat. What do you think, Atticus? Should we tell Dad about the pirates?’

Atticus thought for a moment. On the one paw Inspector Cheddar probably ought to know if Littleton-on-Sea was going to be besieged by pirates. On the other paw, if he did know, he’d tell Mrs Tucker, Mrs Tucker would cancel the beard-jumper competition and Mr Tucker would be sad. Atticus wriggled uncomfortably.
Help!
He didn’t know what to do! It was much harder being a police cat than people realised.

‘Well?’ Michael said.

‘Please, Atticus!’ Mr Tucker begged. ‘I promise everything will be fine.’

Atticus decided to side with Mr Tucker. It seemed as if he had it covered. Everything would be okay as long as Black Beard-Jumper didn’t find out he hadn’t been invited and turn up unexpectedly, like the bad fairy in Callie’s Sleeping Beauty story. And that wasn’t very likely to happen, was it? Atticus began to purr.

‘Atticus says it’s okay!’ Mr Tucker cried.

‘All right,’ Michael said slowly. ‘I guess that means we won’t tell Dad.’

‘I hope you’re right about this, Atticus.’ Callie frowned.

Atticus stopped purring.
So did he!

‘Thanks, Atticus, I knew youze wouldn’t let me down!’ Mr Tucker pulled two sardines out of his pocket. He gave one to Atticus and the other to Thomas, who had been waiting patiently by Mr Tucker’s foot. ‘Youze must be hungry after all that beach tidying!’

Atticus gulped the sardine down gratefully and cleaned his whiskers.

‘Talking of beach tidying,’ Michael remembered, ‘Atticus found this.’ He handed the bottle to Mr Tucker.

‘Well, Thomas did,’ Callie corrected. “It’s got a message in it.’

‘A message in a bottle?! Well done, Thomas!’ Mr Tucker pulled out a third sardine and gave it to the kitten. ‘Youze got to be smaaarrrt to spot one of those.’

Atticus looked on in dismay. It wasn’t fair! Now Mr Tucker was giving Thomas extra sardines!
Atticus was beginning to regret letting the children know that Thomas found the bottle. It wasn’t really true anyway. If it hadn’t been for Atticus, they wouldn’t have gone to the pier in the first place! The bottle would still be buried under the nappy.

‘Thumpers’ Traditional Beard Dye?!’ Mr Tucker twisted the bottle in his fingers. ‘I’d say that means this message was sent by either a fisherman or a pirate. They’s the only people who use Thumpers’.’

Apart from Zenia Klob
, Atticus thought sulkily. She used it for her disguises.

Mr Tucker took a pair of tweezers from his pocket and pulled the message out.

The kittens watched intently. So did Atticus. He was annoyed to see that Thomas had jumped on to Mr Tucker’s lap to get a better view. He was such a copycat!