Snowbone (6 page)

“She's a goner,” said Fudge.

No one spoke. The tragedy unfolded on the savage stage of the sea, and the tiddlins could only watch, horrified yet fascinated. And they were so wrapped up in the storm and the sorrow that none of them noticed the wind. It was howling like a dragon, soaring up and down the beach, swooping over the forest, tearing trees out by their roots, hurling driftwood into the air like dandelion seeds. And then, with a vengeful wail, it rushed upon the group and Mouse was taken, tossed through the air and spat into the hungry sea.

“Mouse!”
cried Blackeye. He ran to the water's edge.
“Mouse!”

“She won't drown, she'll float,” said Two Teeth hopefully.

“That's not the point!” snapped Snowbone. “She could drift for miles. Fudge, get a rope. Take one off a shelter.” She stared at the raging ocean, trying to see where Mouse was heading.

Blackeye waded into the water.
“Mouse!”
he cried.
“Mouse!”
He scanned the waves, looking for any sign of life.

“There!”
shouted Tigermane.
“She's there!”

A hand was reaching for the sky. Wooden fingers, panic-palmed. Below it, a terrified face with a mouth like a black button. Calling, calling, but the words were lost to the shouting storm.

“Hold on!”
shouted Blackeye.
“Mouse
/
Hold on! I'm coming! Aargh
…!”

Snowbone pulled him back so hard, he fell over his own feet. “What are you doing?” he cried, flapping on the sand like an angry octopus.

“Wait for Fudge!” said Snowbone. “I've already lost one captain. I don't want to lose two. Look, he's coming.”

Fudge was sprinting over the sand with a heavy rope.

Blackeye grabbed it from him and tied one end around his middle. “You'll have to hold me, buddy,” he said.

Fudge nodded and tied the other end around himself. Soon more hands were on the rope. Everyone wanted to help with the pulling.

Blackeye waded into the water and started to swim. Farther and farther he went, battling against the waves, swimming toward Mouse. He could feel the water seeping into his wooden flesh. He was growing heavier by the minute. He swam on, turning his head from side to side as he looked for her. But every stroke was an effort. The saltwater stung his eyes and it was dark now. So dark.

But there she was. Floating on the water. Limp and lifeless. A piece of flotsam. Driftwood. Deadwood.
Mouse.

Blackeye swam to her, threw himself high above the waves and seized her. “Pull!” he shouted, and the rope tightened as the tiddlins hauled them in.

Shooosh!
Blackeye bounced over the waves backwards, with Mouse held tightly in his arms. He didn't let go till they were back on the beach, sprawled on the sand like a pair of starfish. Only when the tiddlins took her from him did he close his eyes and allow himself to relax.

But not for long. As Fudge began untying the rope, Blackeye
opened his eyes, sat up and looked for Mouse. The tiddlins were crouched around her. She wasn't moving.

Blackeye crawled over, pushed his way into the circle and took Mouse's body in his arms. “Mouse,” he said. “Mouse. Can you hear me?”

Nothing. But suddenly her eyelids were flickering … opening … and Blackeye was looking into her warm, loving eyes.

Mouse nodded, very gently, and smiled up at him. And in that moment, Blackeye thought her smile was the brightest point in a dark, dark world. Carefully, he helped her to her feet, but Mouse was so wet she couldn't walk. So he picked her up and carried her up the beach, out of the storm and into the safety of the store caves.

The tiddlins followed, noisily wondering at Blackeye's bravery. The ship was forgotten; nothing could be done anyway. They would have to see what the morning would bring.

Only Snowbone remained on the beach. She watched the tiddlins dancing over the black sand. “It's like a walking wedding,” she said, and, with a smile, she followed on behind.

y morning, the storm had passed. The tiddlins emerged from the store cave and found a warm, welcoming day. The air was tangy with the taste of the sea. The birds had reclaimed the sky. Everything seemed right with the world.

But down on the beach, it was another story. A scene of complete and utter devastation greeted the tiddlins when they returned to camp. The black sand was strewn with all kinds of debris thrown up by the sea. Mounds of seaweed, scuttling with crabs. Dead birds. Driftwood. Endless wreckage from the stricken ship: barrels, timbers, ropes, sailcloth, furniture, tools, bodies. So many dead bodies. Goats, chickens, rats … and sailors. Dozens of drowned sailors. Some on the beach, some in the water. The gulls were feasting.

The tiddlins walked among them, anxiously searching for familiar faces from the
Mermaid.
But these men didn't look like pirates. Then Fudge found the ship's nameplate,
Tamberlory
, and the wondering was over.

“We can't leave them lying here like this,” said Tigermane. “The birds are pecking them to bits.”

Snowbone thought for a moment. “I don't want to burn them,” she said. “The smoke might attract attention. We'll have to bury them. Blackeye, find some shovels and spades. Organize some diggers. We'll bury them over there, behind the rocks. Tigermane, check the shelters. See if they need repairing. The rest of you can comb the beach. Anything worth salvaging can go to the store cave.”

The tiddlins went about their work and Snowbone turned her attention to the wreckage. A waistcoat, with shiny buttons. A bent spoon. A broken mop handle. Nothing of use except—

What was happening?
Such a commotion farther down the beach! Ten, twenty tiddlins were standing around something, jostling each other, talking all at once. As Snowbone ran toward them, she could hear Fudge's voice above the rest: “Bring a crowbar!” And suddenly Two Teeth was dashing to fetch something.

“What is it?” said Snowbone, elbowing her way forward.

It was a wooden chest. A fine-looking thing, made from dark, polished wood with a hinged lid.

“It's a treasure chest!” said Fudge, unable to contain his excitement. “It's locked but it's heavy. It is
soooo
heavy.”

Snowbone knelt down and examined it closely. There were two golden padlocks on the front, holding the lid firmly down.

“He's back!” cried a voice, and the crowd parted to let Two Teeth through. He handed Snowbone the crowbar; she handed it to Fudge. She would look a right fool if she couldn't force the locks. Fudge was stronger. Let him try.

Fudge was only too willing. There was treasure in that chest and nothing was going to stop him having it. He attacked the locks like a gorilla, with a grunt and a heave, and—
poing!
poing!—
the padlocks snapped right off. Fudge threw open the lid—and there was no treasure. There was a boy. A human boy, quite naked except for a piece of cloth tied round his loins. He was packed in so tightly, he couldn't move if he wanted to. But more than this, he was bound. His hands and feet had been tied together with lengths of silver cord.

And with a supreme effort, the boy turned his head, looked straight at Snowbone and whispered two words: “Help me.”

hile Snowbone was standing on the beach, gazing down at the bound boy, Figgis the tinker was repairing a broken window. In the night, the storm had ripped a fence post out of the ground and hurled it at the house like a spear. The post had smashed through the window and fallen at Figgis's feet.

“It's lucky you slowed it down,” said Figgis to the window as he knocked out the broken glass. “If you hadn't, I'd have been skewered like a sausage on a barbecue.”

He held the new glass up to the frame to see if it would fit. As he did, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. One of the bushes was moving.

“Who's that?” he asked himself. “Snowbone? She's mighty shy this morning.”

He put down the glass and looked around. The forest was quiet, basking in the late-autumn sunshine. But suddenly there was a mad flutter of wings and a pheasant fled into the trees.

“Come out!” called Figgis. “I know you're there.”

Nothing moved. But Figgis could feel a decision was being made somewhere among the trees. Then the bushes slowly parted and out came … a lad. A tall human lad with extraordinarily blue eyes. And behind him a black-haired man. Figgis started to suspect there might be others still hiding.

“Mornin',” said the blue-eyed lad with a curt nod.

“So it is,” returned Figgis.

“We were just passing,” said the lad.

Scouting more like
, thought Figgis.
These are slave traders. No question about it.

“Do you have any water?” said the black-haired man.

Figgis nodded and pointed to a barrel at the side of the house. The man walked over to it, cupped his hands and drank. Figgis noticed the man had a water flask attached to his belt, but he didn't refill it.

“We'll be on our way, then,” said the man, wiping his wet hands on the seat of his britches.

“Right,” said Figgis. “Safe journey.”

The man nodded and headed off into the forest, trailed by the lad. Figgis stood where he was, waiting to see if any more men would show themselves. They didn't.

But when he went inside, he watched from the window and, within a minute, four more traders emerged from the undergrowth and followed on behind.

“What can they want?” said Figgis as he set the kettle on the stove. “They're not likely to find eggs out here.
Ah!
Are they looking for the kids?”

Figgis glanced out of the window again. He hoped Snow-bone would turn up soon. He needed to warn her. The slavers would return.

ack at the beach, Snowbone tipped up the chest and threw the boy out onto the black sand.

“Snowbone!” cried Mouse. “Be careful!”

“How else did you think we'd get him out?” said Snowbone. “He was as tight as a fat man's sock.”

Mouse still wasn't happy. “You didn't have to be quite so rough,” she said. “You'll cover him in bruises.”