The Secret Invasion of Port Isabel (9 page)

The boar
charged at Larry without waiting for an answer.

_{CHAPTER 9}

_{DROPPING IN ON PIRATES}

After an hour of
fruitlessly searching the wet streets of Port Isabel for pirates
disguised as sheep, Flossy and Reginald made their way back to the
Stinging Nettle. The enormous animal was full of curiosity about
his little human cousin and the society from which she had
come.

‘So, you’re
saying you have no talking animals in Australia?’ said
Reginald.

‘Yes, that’s
right,’ said Flossy.

‘Fascinating!
Then it must have been quite a shock finding yourself aboard the
Interloper.
’

‘It was.
Pirate Pratt’s flea-bitten mutts were actually talking to one
another. At first I thought they were just the barks and growls of
dumb animals. No offence intended.’

‘Oh, none
taken.’ Reginald stepped hard in a deep puddle, requiring Flossy to
leap aside to avoid being drenched by the tidal wave. ‘Sorry. No
offence intended,’ he said.

‘Very funny,
Reginald! If you didn’t like getting wet, I’d splash you back.’
Flossy allowed a wide margin as she skirted the next puddle. It
wasn’t that she was worried about getting any wetter. She just
didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

‘Besides, I
didn’t mean
you
were a dumb animal. You are the smartest…
person I’ve ever met. I was thinking about the animals back home.
They can’t talk. They just have instincts, no thoughts and
feelings…’

‘Are you so
sure?’ Reginald asked.

They had
searched most of the long hill sweeping up from Town Square.
Reginald was too large for the labyrinthine laneways, so while he
searched the main thoroughfares, parks and squares, she searched
the adjoining laneways and alleys. Neither of them had seen any
trace of dogs or sheep. She kept a wary eye on the rooftops too but
hadn’t seen any shadows, and nothing else had fallen.

‘Yes, I’m
sure. They’re nothing like you and the others I’ve met here. They
don’t build things, they don’t cooperate…’

‘Do all humans
in Australia build things and cooperate?’ asked Reginald.

‘No, not all.
Many just benefit from others doing… oh, I see your point. So you
think that in the same way, Australian animals are people who just
don’t work together to make things?’

‘It’s
possible, don’t you think?’ said Reginald, swaying as he walked
slowly by her side.

Flossy deftly
jumped over a deep gutter half full of fast moving water, which
made her sword clattered at her side.

‘Possible,
yes. But it’s still unlikely. If you met them, you would realise
the people living in Port Isabel are completely different. When I
met Harry, I knew immediately that I was meeting a… proper person.
The way he looked at me, and Larry too, made it obvious. That’s not
how it is with Australian animals. There is… an absence of
thoughtfulness in their eyes.’

They passed
under the arch of an old aqueduct. Part of it had collapsed long
ago and grass was reclaiming the rubble. Rainwater cascaded from a
breach above their heads.

‘And their
heads are smaller, so their brains are probably smaller too,’
Flossy added.

‘Smaller
heads, you say? I’d never imagined there might still be animals in
the world like that. We only have bones of small-headed animals.
I’ll have to ponder this idea further. Do you know how they lost
the ability to think and talk? Was it neglect of use, or was it
somehow taken from them?’

Flossy didn’t
answer, she stood stock still, every sense heightened. Something
had moved behind the third aqueduct pylon from where she stood.

‘I think
there’s someone down there,’ she whispered.

Reginald
silently moved behind the closest pylon so he was out of sight. ‘I
don’t see anyone,’ he whispered. He raised his trunk and sniffed.
‘But I smell sheep, yes it’s definitely sheep.’

‘I’m going to
have a look,’ said Flossy.

She removed
her waterlogged jacket and laid it at the foot of the pylon. Next
she arranged her sword and scabbard behind her so it wouldn’t get
in the way when she climbed.

‘Can you..?’
she asked Reginald, pointing up.

Reginald
extended his trunk and lifted Flossy onto his back. From there she
pulled herself up and over the edge of the aqueduct and rolled into
the trench. She was on the dry side of the breach. The rain had
eased and fog was now rolling across the town. Without her jacket,
every raindrop was a cold pinprick that robbed her of what warmth
remained. Her bare feet ached with cold.

Keeping low
and moving as quietly as she could she crawled along the aqueduct
until she reached the top of the third pylon. Pushing her wet hair
away from her face she carefully peered over the edge. There were
six pirates below, all of them artfully disguised as sheep. They
were huddled together talking. One of them was arranging a sword
that looked just like hers; another was struggling to put on too
small a vest. It also looked like hers. They were dressing as
pirates. From above she couldn’t recognise any of them, their
costumes was perfect. No wonder they had been able to move around
Port Isabel so freely, without being noticed. But why bother
disguising themselves as sheep only to give away their true
identities by wearing pirate clothes? There was only one way to
find out.

Flossy leapt
from the aqueduct and fell into the middle of the pack. She used
two of the pirates to help break her fall. They collapsed under her
weight and she rolled to the side, landing on her feet in a
fighting stance. Before the pirates knew what had hit them, Flossy
was in their midst with her sword drawn.

‘It’s her!’
cried one pirate. ‘Baaa-aaa!’ bleated the others in unison.

‘You’re not
dogs!’ said a surprised Flossy.

‘You see, I
told you she wore her sword to the side,’ said one of the sheep.
‘Baaa-aaa. Sword to the side, sword to the side,’ bleated the
others.

They were all
of them, without question, sheep. They weren’t pirates dressed as
sheep. They were sheep dressed as pirates. She hadn’t landed on a
pack of dogs but a flock of sheep dressed in poor fitting pirate
clothes.

When Reginald
arrived he was chuckling. Flossy was sitting on a low wall with her
head in her hands. The sheep faced her and were busy discussing her
clothes and arranging their own. The sheep who wore a wooden sword
now wore it to the side, just like she did.

Reginald
handed Flossy her wet jacket. ‘Were these the pirates you saw near
Town Square?’ he asked.

‘They must
have been. I’m so sorry I’ve caused everyone so much trouble.’

‘Oh, that’s
okay. I like the rain and I’ve enjoyed showing you around town and
getting to know you. Besides, in these kind of matters it’s better
to be safe than sorry.’

Flossy stood
and squeezed into her wet jacket.

‘Look at the
silver buttons!’ said one of the sheep with round eyes. ‘Where can
we get a jacket like that?’ The other jostled to see. ‘The buttons,
the buttons, baaa-aaa!’ they chorused.

‘Is that a
real pirate belt?’ another asked eagerly, as it examined the belt
holding up the sailor’s pants she had trimmed with lace. ‘The belt,
the belt!’ bleated the others.

Flossy
adjusted her belt—actually a piece of rope she’d
borrowed
from the
Interloper
. With all the activity over the past few
days, and her irregular eating, she had already lost weight. She
would need to watch that.

‘Your first
ever fans,’ said Reginald, laughing warmly.

‘But why would
they want to dress like me?’

‘There’s no
accounting for good taste,’ said Reginald, a twinkle in his
eye.

‘Thanks a lot,
Reginald. You really are the master diplomat.’

Reginald
followed Flossy past the rubble piles and back onto the road.

_CHAPTER
10

_{ISCARIOT SNAKE}

Flossy walked in the
rain beside her big friend. ‘I suppose there’s little point in
searching further,’ she said, sighing.

‘No, I don’t
think so,’ said Reginald. ‘And it’s time to return anyway. The
others are probably polishing off their third hot chocolates and
warming their paws, claws and hoofs by the fire at the café.’

‘Well, let’s
head back then. I could use another hot chocolate and the fire may
save my life.’ Flossy shivered. Her bare feet were ice blocks. ‘Now
that we know the mysterious sheep-dog pirates are actually just
plain-old sheep, all I have to do is apologise to the others for
leading them on a wild goose chase.’

‘Oh, Harry and
the others will be quick to forgive, I believe. You’ll probably
have to give up a marshmallow again, in recompense, and that will
be that.’

‘A small
price, though,’ said Flossy, smiling grimly. ‘On second thoughts,
they were good, weren’t they!’

A family of
creamy-white llamas moved to one side of the road, the parents
keeping their heads down as they passed. The three youngsters
watched Flossy with bright, wide eyes. She smiled and waved
good-naturedly. The parents, who had long necks and fluffy grey
ears on top of their small dark heads, ushered their youngsters on
without making eye contact with Flossy.

‘Everyone’s
still a little shaken after last night,’ said Reginald, glancing
back at the llamas. ‘And you’re an unknown quantity; someone
connected with danger. Humans haven’t been seen in this part of the
world in living memory. All they have to go on is legend, and that
unfairly portrays humans as little more than wild animals, smarter
than most, with a penchant for violence.’

‘The pirate
clothes probably don’t help either,’ said Flossy. She straightened
her sodden jacket and fluffed her flat hair.

They came to a
wide intersection of five roads and Flossy paused to let Reginald
choose the way. The buildings around them were tall and seemed to
lean inwards from weariness. Reginald turned to the left and Flossy
followed.

‘So, before
our little bit of excitement with your sycophantic fans we were
talking about whether Australian animals are different or just
haven’t had the chance to develop in the way animals here
have.’

‘No, they’re
definitely different. The pirates, who don’t even speak Latin, were
the first thinking animals I had met and I immediately knew they
were different.’

‘How so?’
Reginald asked. He tilted his head towards Flossy as he walked.

‘One of them
was tying a Slipped Buntline,’ said Flossy.

‘A Slipped
Buntline?’

‘It’s a quick
release knot used by sailors, and seadogs too, so it seems. No
amount of training would help a dog where I come from tie a Slipped
Buntline.’

‘So that’s
what gave them away, a knot?’

‘Yes, and also
their tools and the way they were coordinating their actions. They
seemed to know what to do and when to do it, like someone was
managing the whole show. They worked really well as a pack and they
were more coordinated than any other animals I’d seen. I started
seeing them as a single creature rather than individual dogs.’

The road they
were on widened as it opened onto Town Square. The Square was
covered by a thick blanket of fog. Flossy could see the warmly
glowing Heat Tree but couldn’t make out the alarm bell rotunda or
Town Hall beyond. Only a few animals were about and most of the
shops and cafés still appeared to be closed. Someone had carried
off the lump of stone that neatly hit Harry. She glanced up at the
roofline but there were no shadows and she was beginning to wonder
if there ever were.

Reginald fell
silent as they trudged past the burnt out museum. She could only
imagine the sadness he must be feeling seeing his life’s work
destroyed. The silver Cylinder House rising above the ruins was the
only thing that had seemed to have survived unscathed. Everything
else was blackened or had tumbled to the ground. The rubble still
lay where it had fallen and the puddles were dark with ash.