The Mousehunter (21 page)
Authors: Alex Milway
Scragneck looked out uneasily at the view.
“Put us down then!” he shouted.
Ogruk looked again across the sea, and raised the
Silver Shark
to one of his immense eyes. His flowing hair battered the hull like thousands of lashing whips, and as he spoke everyone struggled to keep on their feet for the force of his breath.
“Not here?” he rumbled. “Farther?”
“Yes, here! Put us down!” shouted Scragneck.
“But Mousebeard?” Ogruk said, taking a step down into the sea.
“This is what he wanted!” screamed the pirate, clutching hold of the ship’s rail. “You can put us down now, Ogruk!”
The giant grumbled as though his throat were full of thunder, and lowered the
Silver Shark
to the sea far below. His grip loosened, and the water took hold of the vessel.
Flares went shooting into the sky, lighting the moonless night, and Ogruk made his way out into the deep, releasing large rolling waves in his wake. As his massive shape grew fainter and more distant, he never looked back. With a crackle of explosions, harpooned ropes fired out into the hull of the
Silver Shark
— even its metal sides couldn’t withstand the brute force of the navy. Battersby had trained the guns of four huge warships onto the
Silver Shark,
their crews all ready for action. Bit by bit they drew in closer until the sailors were within shouting distance of the pirate ship.
On deck, Scragneck held his sword tightly, and ordered the rest of the pirates to draw their weapons.
“Are Mousebeard and Drewshank ready?” he shouted, turning to Miserley.
“They’re chained up and ready,” she replied. Her daggers, as ever, were primed for action, but she seemed restless. “I’ll get them brought up.”
Miserley went below deck and gave the signal to one of the pirates on guard. Mousebeard walked from the brig in silence, his wrists locked in irons behind his back. He proceeded up to the top deck with a grave look on his face, and every pirate he passed tried not to meet his eye. Drewshank was attached to him by a thick iron chain and struggled to shadow his steps.
Miserley watched them leave the lower deck, but didn’t follow. She walked to the empty stern of the ship and pushed aside a cabinet, which shunted as though on castors. Behind was a secret cupboard filled with weapons, food, and a barrel of fresh water. She took one look behind her to see that she hadn’t been followed, and then crept inside, concealing the entrance once more.
Back on deck, Scragneck pushed his prisoners to the front of the deck so that they were in full view of the approaching warships. A crowd of excitable pirates joined him and withdrew their weapons in wait.
“You’re giving yourself up,” growled Mousebeard, watching the navy’s ships come hull to hull with the
Silver Shark.
Behind the warships, the sea was filled with vessels big and small, lit up by the continuous stream of flares that were being fired into the sky.
“Shut up,” snapped Scragneck; however, he couldn’t help but eye the ships nervously.
From every side of the
Silver Shark,
sailors appeared and dropped onto the deck. Scragneck watched them intently, and they stared back without moving further — the sailors easily outnumbered the pirates. Finally, with a heavy thump, Lord Battersby landed aboard, a silver-butted pistol in his hand.
“Good evening,” he said, catching the eye of Mousebeard. He approached him and looked him up and down.
In his chains, Mousebeard bristled, and his dark eyes held Battersby’s gaze.
“How the mighty tumble,” said Battersby. “And you, Drewshank . . . what a nice surprise. I thought you had gone down with your worthless ship . . . .”
“A small gesture for ya,” said Scragneck.
“Well, that’s much appreciated,” added Battersby. “I shall enjoy watching him walk to the scaffold. He was just perfect for our little plan.”
Battersby made a small gesture with his hand and sailors approached Mousebeard and Drewshank, seizing their chains. Even though the pirate was bound, the sailors clearly found his presence unnerving. He glowered at them as they tried to move him.
“Idiots,” snarled Mousebeard, “thinking you can get the better of me!”
The pirate let his head fall back and whistled three short notes. Immediately, along the masts rushed tens of mice, who all started to wail. It was the same ear-piercing noise that Drewshank had heard when they were in the fog, and every sailor and pirate clutched their ears.
“Run!” shouted Mousebeard.
Drewshank was reeling from the noise, but found it didn’t matter when he was being pulled along by the fearsome strength of Mousebeard. The pirate charged at Battersby and knocked him flying with his shoulder. Two sailors, struggling to deal with the wailing mice, managed to jump on Drewshank and drag him to the floor. The pirate pulled up sharply, but, giving a great tug, had his fellow prisoner back on his feet again.
“Get him!” ordered Battersby.
At least ten sailors released their ears and headed toward the pirate, who had barged to the edge of the ship. Mousebeard looked down into the choppy blackness of the sea, and his immediate thought was to jump, but he paused, and the wailing of the mice grew louder in a fresh chorus. With the weight of Drewshank hanging off him, he wouldn’t stand a chance in the cold water. There was now nowhere to run.
The sailors eventually reached him, but first they bundled Drewshank to the floor. Mousebeard stood firm and felt his arms pull sharply with the chain. More sailors jumped onto him. He swung his body frantically, dispatching three sailors over the side and into the water before he was finally overcome in a torrent of punches. In a last gasp of strength, he let out a desperate cry of anguish, as his head smashed into his captors.
Battersby calmly found his feet and pointed the pistol at Mousebeard’s neck.
“I’d finish this now if it was worth my while,” he said.
“Do it,” ordered Mousebeard.
Battersby smirked.
“Bringing you back to Old Town will make me the most famous man in Midena — and even the whole of the Great Sea. You’re worth so much more alive . . . .”
Battersby turned his gun to where the mice were resting on the masts and pulled the trigger. Mousebeard’s face paled as he watched three small mice drop like weights to the deck. Their wailing cries stopped briefly then started up again.
“Blow them away!” shouted Battersby to his troops, who were being driven mad by the noise. The sailors passed the order to the
Stonebreaker,
which unleashed a hail of shot at the offending mice, blowing the masts to pieces.
Mousebeard felt a hole widen in his heart at the sound of the gunfire.
“Take the prisoners away!” ordered Battersby exultantly, before he turned to face the pirates. “Who’s in charge of this ship now?”
Scragneck stepped forward as the shapes of Mousebeard and Drewshank disappeared onto the
Stonebreaker.
“Do you have the mice?” asked Battersby, slightly breathless.
“Do I ’ave your word?”
Battersby let his sailors surround him. “Of course you do.”
A pirate carried over the ornate mousebox, passed it to Battersby, and then stepped back.
“Excellent,” said Lord Battersby, his eyes glowing at the thought of the riches the mice would bring to Old Town. Before he stepped off the
Silver Shark,
he looked back and spoke.
“You have two choices,” he said. “Either drop your weapons and surrender, or face our cannons and die like the scum you are!”
Then he turned and disappeared behind a freshly mustered line of sailors. Scragneck raised his sword.
“You lying, two-bit . . . ”
Pistol shots rang out from behind him and his pirates fired through a row of Battersby’s sailors.
“No surrender!” shouted Scragneck to his fellow pirates as he slashed with his sword. “Blast ’em back to Old Town!”
Safe onboard the
Stonebreaker,
Battersby watched the fighting from his cabin. He ordered more sailors to go onboard, knowing that before long the pirates would be completely overrun. When word eventually reached him of Scragneck’s capture, he suppressed a smile. He relished the knowledge that his present for the Old Town gallows was going to be even greater than he’d hoped.
THE ORANGE MOUSE LIVES ITS LIFE IN PERMANENT DANGER BECAUSE OF
an unfortunate twist of evolution that’s endowed it with bright orange fur. In most cases of such natural coloring, this would be an indication of the animal being bestowed with a deadly poison, but not the poor Orange Mouse. Instead, it is one of the most highly visible and hunted mice in existence, and is forever on the run from predators. When not fleeing from pursuit, the Orange Mouse is usually found rolling in mud to try and hide is coloring — a rather fruitless task.
MOUSING NOTES
The Orange Mouse is, unsurprisingly, on the world’s endangered list, but unlike many mice on the list, it is actively encouraged that collectors keep a pair in their collection. The mice seem to relish an unnatural habitat, and thrive in captivity.
T
HE
STONEBREAKER
TORE THROUGH THE WATER ON ITS
long journey back to Old Town. Chained up in a small prison cabin in its hull, with only shards of light to see by, Mousebeard and Drewshank looked totally defeated and battle-weary. Bruises were blossoming on their faces, and their outfits were dirty and damaged. And worst of all, not only were they still chained together at arm’s length, but they had nothing to do other than talk to each other.
“I hate Lord Battersby,” said Drewshank, leaning back uncomfortably.
The mice in Mousebeard’s beard were fidgeting, and the pirate was muttering under his breath. His dark brown eyes appeared pure black in the dingy conditions.
“Mutinous scum,” he spat. “Just as I warned, they’ve got all of us killed.”
“That’s pirates for you,” Drewshank replied. “But I must admit that I enjoyed your charge at Lord Battersby!”
“If the opportunity arises,” Mousebeard said gruffly, “he’ll get a lot worse. But my crew had turned, and in that situation it’s each man for himself.”
“You should have chosen your friends more wisely.”
“Friends?” said Mousebeard angrily, leaning into Drewshank’s face. “What would you know about my friends?”
Drewshank pulled back, trying to smooth his matted hair.
“Enough to know that most of them will be there to watch you plummet from the gallows,” he said smartly.
Mousebeard frowned and closed his eyes.
“I won’t make it that far, captain,” he said. “I won’t last that long.”
“If there’s anyone they’ll keep alive for Old Town, it’ll be you,” said Drewshank. “Your execution will draw all the crowds.”
Mousebeard smiled grimly. His darkened eyes suddenly looked distant.
“If only staying alive was that easy.”
“It’s not like you’ve anything better to do,” said Drewshank.
“You know nothing of what I face. I’ve lived under the shadow of death for many years, privateer. You’ll understand things soon enough.”
“It seems that we have plenty of time on our hands, so you might as well explain what you mean.”
Mousebeard looked at him. “Sitting in silence would be far preferable,” he said.
“Have it your way then,” replied Drewshank.
He groaned and fell silent. In his boredom he started to pick at the manacles clamped tightly around his wrists. The cabin was hot and airless, and sweat was dripping down his forehead. He stopped thinking about Mousebeard and his secrets, and instead thought of the horrific prospect of returning to Old Town with heavy chains clanking around his feet and wrists.
An armored sailing vessel slipped silently into Old Town harbor at the dead of night, unseen by the other ships navigating the channel. Its sails slackened and it pulled up smoothly at the quayside. The harbor was relatively quiet, just the odd sailor and usual drunks, but as Beatrice Pettifogger disembarked with four armed bodyguards to protect her, a cloaked figure approached.
“Aah, Lady Pettifogger,” exclaimed Spires, striding toward her, “your carriage is waiting for you!”
