The Trophy of Champions (31 page)

With the added pressure of the crew's lives in his hands, Whisker watched as the huge kite was retrieved from the navigation room and unfolded on the deck. Four long ropes were attached to the corners of the sail and fastened to fixing points along the bulwark.

‘Prepare to launch around the next bend,' Whisker ordered.

Fred scaled the rigging, clutching the top edge of the kite sail in one paw. The others took their positions at the foot of the masts, waiting for Whisker's signal.

The surface of the water was alive with choppy waves as the wind found its way into the passage. Fred had only just reached the top of the rigging when the sail in his paws began to flap wildly.

‘Hold steady!' Whisker shouted.

Fred waited, hanging on for dear life in the howling wind, as Whisker spun the wheel around and around.

The moment the
Apple Pie
cleared the bend, the Eagle expanded with air and Fred released his grip. The golden bird rose steadily above the cliffs and soared majestically into the cloud-scattered sky.

The pull on the ship was instantaneous. The bow of the
Apple Pie
lurched through the water like a shark on the hunt. The Pie Rats were no longer cruising. They were now racing.

The explosive speed of the
Apple Pie
brought a whole new set of challenges for Whisker. Dead-end passages became potential crash sites. Submerged rocks were shipwrecks waiting to happen.

Following a direct, downwind course through the islands, Whisker held steady, steering with confidence and resolve.

Will we emerge in the lead?
he wondered,
or will it be a mad dash to the finish line?

He wanted to believe they could still win.

He
had
to believe they could still win.

From time to time, the shadows of the cliffs would creep across the deck of the ship, inching their way towards the open book. Whisker would hurriedly memorise the map before it vanished into shadowy blankness, only to reappear again with the next ray of sunlight.

The shadows grew longer. The sun dropped lower.

And then, just when the sun appeared to have set behind the high cliffs of rock, it appeared directly in front of them, shining like a golden orb through the open end of the passage. Whisker felt the blood pumping through his tail. His heart began to race.

‘Fred!' he shouted, his voice edged with nervous excitement. ‘What can you see?'

It took a moment for the
Apple Pie
to reach open water, and by that time, Whisker was too busy staring through his spyglass to even hear Fred's response.

To the south, trawling through the Central Channel and well out of contention, was HMS Majesty. To the west, radiant and terrifying, sailed the
Silver Sardine.
Amber sunlight sparkled off its glistening hull as it rounded the marker ship. A stone's throw to the north lay the sandy shores of the desert island.

Whisker's heart sank. He didn't need a navigation degree to know that, even with a high-flying Eagle sail, the
Apple Pie
would never catch up. The Cat Fish were on the home strait and the rats would be lucky to reach the purple-sailed marker ship before the cats skulked onto the beach to claim their prize.

Whisker knew that only a miracle could win them the race, and true miracles were the stuff of bedtime stories.

Think,
he told himself, fighting back a wave of despair.
There's got to be a solution. There always is.

Focusing his mind, he tried to come up with something – anything to stop the Cat Fish from winning.

A blue whale swallowing the Silver Sardine whole?

No. That's never going to happen.

A freak tidal wave throwing the cats off course?

Even more remote …

Hidden sandbars? No.

Whirlpools? No.

Lightning storms? No, no, no!

Nothing he could think of was ever going to happen.

With one last desperate hope, he closed his eyes and let his memories take over.

At first he saw nothing. Then, as the darkness of his mind began to close in, he pictured a ship with sails as black as the night, appearing in deathly silence …

The Black Shadow.

The haunting ship had appeared to him twice – always at sunset – somewhere close to his current location.

Could it appear to him again?

He felt an icy chill run through his tail. His fingers turned white on the wheel.

Be careful what you wish for …

Fighting back his terror, he turned his spyglass to the horizon and willed the ship to appear.

One Winner

After what seemed like an eternity of staring into nothingness, dreading what he might actually find, Whisker was pulled from his trance by the sound of someone calling his name.

‘…Whisker. Whisker.'

Immediately, all hopes of the
Black Shadow
were swept from his mind. He felt his tail collapse on the deck.

It isn't coming,
he told himself, embracing reality.
It never was.

He lowered the spyglass to see Ruby standing next to him on the helm. The sun was setting behind her, bathing the edges of her face and ears in a soft, golden light. She was neither angry nor upset, but the look of resignation she gave Whisker told him that the Cat Fish were destined for victory.

‘We're not going to win this race, are we?' he said quietly.

‘No,' she said, unable to hide the relief on her face. ‘The games are over.'

Whisker nodded. He knew exactly what games she was referring to: not the games between competitors where winners were showered with gold but the games between friends where there were no winners.

Despite the bitter disappointment Whisker felt at losing the answer he so desperately sought, a small part of him felt relieved, too. He was no longer bound to the fox. With the trophy out of the equation, he could finally stop lying and he could finally be himself again – not a scoundrel with something to hide but a friend with everything to share.

The Pie Rats are all I've got now,
he told himself.
And Ruby is one of them.

Hoping he could salvage something from the wreckage of their relationship, Whisker decided to come clean.

‘Ruby,' he said, mustering the courage, ‘I've got something I want to tell you.'

‘Okay,' she said, smiling. ‘But can it wait until we reach the island? The trophy might be out of our grasp, but there's a pawful of loyal spectators who deserve a spectacular fin–
'

She faulted midsentence, losing her train of thought. Across from her, Whisker's eyes had grown to the size of pie platters.

‘Whisker, what is it?' she gasped.

‘Y-your words,' Whisker stammered, his jaw gaping open.
‘Out of our grasp
… It's not over. Don't you see?'

‘See what?' Ruby frowned.

Whisker pointed to the blank book, lying face up in the shadows. ‘Remember what Anso said?
Only in defeat do we really see clearly
. We were so obsessed with winning the Sea Race that we failed to see the real goal: winning the championship.'

Taking a deep breath, he raised the spyglass to his eye and swivelled it towards the desert island. The
Silver Sardine
was approaching the sandy coastline but it was yet to pass through the line of breakers.

‘Good,' he said to himself, ‘We've still got time.'

‘Time for what?
'
Ruby gasped. ‘You're not making any sense.'

Without a response, Whisker turned the spyglass to the vessel closest to him: the purple-sailed marker ship.

Against the darkening ocean he saw the unmistakable flicker of violet flames illuminating the ship's three masts.

Whisker smiled to himself. The marker ship was no ordinary ship.

Out of our grasp?
Whisker asked himself, fixing his sights on the trophy room of the
Velvet Wave
.
Or close enough to touch?

He lowered the spyglass and looked up at the Eagle sail. The huge, rectangular kite hovered above the starboard side of the
Apple Pie
. Its four ropes creaked and strained as the strong wind threatened to tear the fabric away.

‘Ruby,' Whisker said, finally addressing his confused companion. ‘Is your bow still on board?'

‘Yes,' Ruby said. ‘And I've got a quiver of silver arrows in the navigation room – but, Whisker, what do you want them for?'

‘You'll see,' Whisker said with urgency. ‘But first, I need you to do exactly what I say.'

Several minutes later, seven lavishly dressed bunnies paraded up the stairs of the
Apple Pie
and onto the twilit deck. With Fred's gentle assistance, they shuffled to the bow of the ship, oohing and aahing and making wooden waving gestures with their paws. Some wore scarves, some wore luxurious coats. All of them were smiling.

One by one, they formed a tight row along the bulwark, staring blankly at the approaching ship.

The sight of the beautiful damsels sent the crew of the
Velvet Wave
into a frenzy. Dropping their paint-pellet rifles, they rushed to the port side of the ship and began wolf-whistling and twitching their ears uncontrollably.

‘Well hello, ladies!' hollered the tallest rabbit. ‘Welcome to checkpoint number two.'

‘All my Easters have come at once,' cried a plump rabbit with pronounced front teeth. ‘Seven beautiful bunnies and they're staring straight at me.'

‘What heavenly burrow did you hop out of?' asked the smallest rabbit dreamily.

‘Oh, it was no burrow,' came a high pitched response. ‘We were shipwrecked on a barren island without so much as a carrot to nibble on. If it wasn't for these lovely rats, well, I'm sure you can imagine what would have happened …'

‘Oooh no!' cried the entire crew of the
Velvet Wave
. ‘It's a miracle you survived.'

Whisker chuckled to himself and pretended to adjust the foresail. From his elevated position halfway up the rigging he could see what Gustave's love-struck sons couldn't: Horace and Ruby crouching behind seven painted Frankie cut-outs, while Smudge moved their paws with pieces of string.

Horace was responsible for most of the bunnies' squeaky voices, though the occasional comment from Ruby stopped him from going completely overboard. The green-eyed sharpshooter waited patiently with a loaded bow in her paws and a silver arrow aimed unnervingly at Whisker's left foot.

Glad to be on friendly terms with her again, Whisker wrapped his fingers around a rope of the kite sail and ran his eye up the tense, quivering line. The dark shape of the Eagle hovered silently above the
Velvet Wave
.

‘A little to your starboard side,' Whisker mouthed to Pete behind the wheel.

‘Aye,' Pete sniffled, giving the wheel a subtle spin.

As the
Apple Pie
slowly righted its course, Whisker recalled the words of Baron Gustave from the opening ceremony:
Ze first team zat can touch ze trophy, before ze end of ze last event vill receive one bonus point.

In the fading light, Whisker could barely make out the
Silver Sardine
in the dark haze of sea spray that surrounded the desert island, but he knew that the cats were only minutes from the shore.

Now comes the real race,
Whisker told himself, gripping the rope tightly. He knew his plan was reckless and bordering on insane, but that was exactly what made it so brilliant – the rabbits would never see it coming.

The bow of the
Apple Pie
drew level with the stern of the
Velvet Wave
and, with the Eagle flying directly above the trophy room, Whisker made his move.

Wrapping his legs around the course rope, he let out a sharp wolf-whistle. The sound had barely left his lips when Ruby released the string of her bow, sending a silver arrow whizzing through the air. With pin-point accuracy, the arrowhead sliced through the rope beneath Whisker's feet, severing it in two.