had no idea how long he’d been in the navigation room. He staggered onto the windy deck to discover the world outside had changed. The rain had cleared and the sun poked through gaps in the separating clouds. The entire crew was gathered in the centre of the deck, witnessing the spectacle in front of them.
Sharp rocks dotted the ocean ahead, marking the entrance to the Treacherous Sea. Steep cliffs of basalt rock rose to the north. Sprawling pine trees and crumbling boulders covered the rugged cliff tops. In the distance, twin mountains, black as the night, towered over the cliffs like silent sentinels. The peak of the eastern mountain eclipsed its western sibling by a mere boulder or two.
The island was more terrifying than Whisker had ever imagined. Even from a distance, he could hear the wind howling through the trees, roaring and racing down the cliffs to the surging sea. Closing his eyes, he imagined he was listening to a graveyard of phantoms, endlessly wailing, eternally cursed.
If the wind was the terrifying life force of the island, then the waves were its minions. They battered every rock, pounded every cliff face – savagely, relentlessly.
Whisker shivered. ‘An island of destiny or an island of death?’
‘Both,’ Pete muttered. ‘Every rat’s destiny is death.’
Horace looked up from his net. ‘Don’t listen to him, Whisker. You can get us through. I know it.’
Whisker wished he shared Horace’s confidence, but he couldn’t shake his feeling of dread. He turned his back on the island and climbed the stairs to the helm.
‘Any luck?’ the Captain asked.
Whisker ran his tongue over his teeth, avoiding an answer. The Captain gripped harder on the wheel, unable to hide his frustration.
‘Is the net ready, Horace?’ he shouted.
‘Nearly, Captain,’ Horace replied. ‘I just need to load it into a cannon.’
‘I thought nets were for throwing?’ the Captain snapped.
‘Err, some nets are,’ Horace said cautiously. ‘But I’d prefer we trapped the creature before it got within throwing range.’
‘Very well,’ the Captain huffed. ‘But be quick about it. The entrance to the lagoon is just ahead.’
Horace hurriedly stuffed the net into a cannon on the deck. Loose cords dangled out like the tentacles of an octopus.
Whisker watched apprehensively as the Apple Pie skirted around a rock and entered the Treacherous Sea. Huge cliffs rose to either side, unscaleable walls of stone, curving in an arc around the lagoon. Directly ahead, the protruding rocks were as large as ships and twice as tall. Not a blade of grass grew on their barren surfaces.
It was time for Whisker’s decision: left or right?
He held the key in front of him and, imagining the island was the map, aligned the shaft with the centre of the mountains. Light sparkled through tiny rust holes in the surface of the key and filled the round hole at its base.
Whisker looked beyond the cliffs, beyond the rocks, beyond the lagoon to the only glimmer of beauty on the entire island: the Rock of Hope. He could just make out the shape – a white rock, bathed in sunlight and surrounded by flowing water.
He lowered the key but kept his gaze. His line of sight led directly through a narrow passage between the rocks.
‘Keep Hope in your sights,’ Whisker thought aloud. And then it came to him. ‘Of course. The riddle is meant to be taken literally. There’s only one way to keep Hope in our sights and that’s …’
‘Right or left?’ the Captain bellowed. ‘I need an answer.’
‘Neither!’ Whisker shouted. ‘Sail straight ahead.’
‘WHAT?’ Pete cried from the deck. ‘We’ll be wrecked on the rocks!’
‘Beaten to breadcrumbs!’ Mr Tribble gasped.
‘Pounded into pancakes!’ Emmie squeaked.
Fred licked his lips. ‘Mmm, pancakes …’
Pete kicked Fred with his pencil. ‘You’re not helping. None of you are helping.’ He pointed a bony finger up at Whisker. ‘Give me one logical reason why we should listen to you? And it better not involve that blasted riddle. It’s led to nothing but trouble.’
Whisker dropped his chin and stared at his toes.
‘I don’t know,’ he mumbled. ‘Maybe the water is too shallow for the creature … or maybe it’s too narrow between the rocks … or maybe the wind is calmer …’
‘Three great reasons,’ Horace chimed in. ‘I’m convinced. Off we go then.’
Pete stamped his pencil leg in defiance. ‘Call a vote, Captain.’
The Captain studied the faces of his crew and nodded. ‘As you know, only full members of the crew are permitted to vote. All those in favour of sailing straight through the rocks raise your paws now.’
Horace and Fred raised their paws. Smudge stuck four arms into the air and blew off the barrel. Ruby gave Whisker one of her expressionless stares and raised her paw.
‘Four votes seals it,’ the Captain confirmed.
Pete snorted in disgust and clomped into the navigation room. Whisker mouthed an awkward thanks to Ruby, and turned to the Captain. The Captain hadn’t shifted his paws from the wheel, not even to vote, and the Apple Pie was already heading straight into the rocks.
‘You said straight,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I sailed straight. The vote was merely a formality.’
‘Do you honestly think we can make it through?’ Whisker asked.
‘It’s a tight squeeze,’ the Captain said, ‘but you were right about the wind. It’s much calmer in here.’
Whisker wondered if the Captain was simply being polite. The wind swirled in mighty gusts around him, whipping up the waves and sending them crashing over the rocks. The Apple Pie rocked up and down in the centre of the narrow passage like a rubber duck in a bath tub.
‘A little to your starboard, Captain,’ Ruby called out. ‘I can see the bottom and there’s a rock ledge coming up.’
The Captain gave the wheel a gentle spin and the ship turned to its right.
‘Pull in the sails,’ he ordered. ‘Too much speed and we’ll collide with a rock.’
The twins tinkered with their mice knots, adjusting the sails, and the Apple Pie slowed its pace. Whisker held up the key. The Rock of Hope was still in view.
The crew remained alert and on edge as the Apple Pie manoeuvred through the rocks. Fred and Smudge stood lookout on either side of the ship, surveying the ocean; Horace waited next to the loaded cannon and Pete remained in the navigation room, doing whatever grumpy quartermasters do on such occasions.
Large rocks to the east sheltered the
