Contents of article "’Beyond the Hedge’ - Chapter 7 Part 1"
’Beyond the Hedge’
Pestilence Grimshaw, resplendent in a turquoise and emerald frock coat, opened his cabin door with a bow and a flourish.
“You can come in now,” Cahoots said chirpily.
The sight of the baby dragon smiling up at him tickled Gilbert pink. “Would you look at that, Leo, a violet dragon, if that doesn’t take the biscuit, I don’t know what does.”
“Biscuit, what biscuit?” Cahoots asked eagerly. “I’d love a biscuit, and I’m not violent, you know.”
The First Mate ushered his little group into the cabin and propelled Pigsblanket towards the decanters on the sideboard.
Pestilence smiled benevolently and patted Cahoots on his scaly head. “Fetch a plate of biscuits for the dragon at once, Pigsblanket. Leave the drinks for now. Perhaps you’d care to do the honours, Mr Malahyde?”
“My pleasure. Would that be a sloeberry rum, Cap’n?”
“Ten out of ten, Jedediah, go straight to the top of the class, and I insist you join me; it’s a veritable belter.”
Pestilence called after the retreating cabin boy. “Tell cook we need some non-alcoholic beverages. The dragon’s a bit young for wines and spirits and I don’t imagine you’re much of a tippler either, Leo.”
“No, sir,” replied the cat politely, “but may I have some water?” Leo was finding Grimshaw’s ebullient mood disturbing and was treading carefully.
“Bring a chilled pitcher of Cressmere spa water, Pigsblanket. Still or fizzy, Leo?”
“Still would be nice.”
The buccaneer sat down in his large leather chair by the stove and patted his knee encouragingly. “Sit up here with me, Cahoots. This has all the makings of a mighty enjoyable evening, by jove.”
The dragon clambered onto Grimshaw’s lap and scriggled around to make himself comfortable. Zipidee-doohdah, he’d landed on his feet and no mistake!
Pestilence cleared his throat and thumped the arm of the chair. “Gilbert and Leo, welcome to ‘The Cheeky Monkey’.” His eyes twinkled wickedly. “I’d like you to meet [pause for the drumroll] my nephew, Cahoots.”
The dragon’s face lit up with a radiant, toothy smile and the teensiest trickle of smoke escaped from his nostrils.
Gilbert smiled nervously. “Steady on, laddie, where I come from there’s no smoke without fire.”
“And you should know, being an expert on that particular subject,” Leo added quietly.
The rat carried on regardless. “It’s a pleasure and a privilege to meet your nephew, Captain Grimshaw.” Gilbert was making jolly sure he addressed the pirate formally this time. No more ‘Pestilence, my dear chum’ for him after the ticking off he received earlier. “I take it he’s your adopted nephew as I don’t see any real likeness.”
Leo clapped his paws over his eyes in disbelief. The Giant Rat had put all four feet in it this time, but Grimshaw was having a whale of a time. He took a long, slow pull on his cigar and blew a plume of smoke in Gilbert’s face. “Now do you see a resemblance, ratty?”
Gilbert didn’t know what to say and opted for silence instead, but Pestilence was having none of that. “Well, do you?”
“Yes indeedy, Captain,” said the flummoxed beast. “How silly of me not to have noticed before. It’s glaringly obvious now.” Never one for understatement, our Gilbert.
Pestilence was playing him like a skilled fisherman reeling in a massive salmon.
Leo stared imploringly at his friend and mimed a zip-fastener being pulled across his mouth. Gilbert smiled foolishly.
The buccaneer was not to be deflected. “So you think I look like a dragon, do you?”
Pigsblanket moved between them with a bowl of water for Leo, hoping to take the heat off Gilbert at the same time.
“No, not exactly, it’s just that…”
Grimshaw had grown bored. His short attention span had kicked in and he waved his hand dismissively at the rat. “It’s of no consequence to me what you think, but I’d be happy to adopt Cahoots should his charming mother wish me to do so.”
The dragon became misty-eyed at the mention of Mum. “I’m missing her so much, Uncle Pestilence.”
Pigsblanket and Malahyde reacted as if they’d slapped each other on the face with a cold, wet haddock. The words ‘Uncle’ and ‘Pestilence’ did not sit together happily in the same sentence.
“There there, lad. I’ll take care of you until it’s time to go back to Mumsy. Have another biscuit to cheer yourself up. The one with the jam in the middle’s very good.”
The dragon held the biscuit reverentially in his claws, examining it crumb by crumb. He tentatively nibbled the outer edge. “Mother told me about biscuits but I’ve never had one until tonight. They’re absolutely brilliant, aren’t they?”
Grimshaw’s teeth were startlingly white when he flashed his infamous crocodile smile. At that instant everyone in the cabin was willing to believe the buccaneer might indeed be related to the dragon.
They took their places round the table and Pestilence raised a silver goblet studded with moonstones and black opals. “May our wildest dreams come true,” he said with an enigmatic smirk. “I don’t know about yours but mine are well on their way to being realised. Now then, let’s get stuck into some grub. Serve dinner right away, Pigsblanket, and no helping yourself when my back’s turned. This fancy cuisine is not for toe-rags like you. It’s far too rich for your delicate stomach.”
The cabin boy kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor and said nothing. He knew from past experience that any answer would be the wrong answer.
“What has the cook come up with for my nephew?”
Pigsblanket placed a salver of seafood and local cheeses in the middle of the table. In the centre of the platter was a bowl crammed with unidentifiable blobs of raw flesh.
Grimshaw choked on his vintage claret, spraying copious amounts over the table and onto those unfortunate enough to be within range. “What’s that foul mess in the bowl?”
The boy wanted to run for cover but stood his ground. “I’m not sure, Captain, but the cook said it was the best he could come up with for a dragon at short notice.”
Grimshaw jumped up from the table, knocking his chair flying. “He did, did he?”
Everyone’s eyes were on him and Cahoots’ jaw dropped open at the sight of his uncle’s fury.
“Bring the imbecile here to me at once. No nephew of mine’s eating that muck.”
Pestilence saw fear in the dragon’s eyes and reined in his anger. By the time the cook knocked on the cabin door Grimshaw had his temper pretty much under control.
Trencher Halibut, rotund in a blue and white striped apron, approached the table wishing he’d had the courage to throw himself into the harbour rather than face the Captain’s wrath.
“Well, man, what’s this disgusting plate of entrails doing in my cabin?”
“That’s top quality bat guts and rat spleen, Cap’n.”
Gilbert spluttered. “Did he say rat spleen?”
Cahoots glanced nervously at the Giant Rat then back at his uncle.
“No dragon on my brigantine is eating guts or spleen, and you owe Gilbert an apology, Halibut. In case you’ve failed to notice, he’s a bally big rat.”
The cook’s cheeks turned crimson and he mumbled a hasty apology.
Pestilence spoke quietly to reassure the dragon. “What do you fancy, lad?”
Cahoots rolled his eyes while he gave the matter his consideration. “Mum and I only ever shared stale bread and milk so I don’t know what I’d like. She said something about dragons eating vegetarians so perhaps I could have some of them.”
The buccaneer laughed heartily. “I don’t imagine cook has any freshly caught vegetarians but a selection of fruit and veg should do the trick.”
“If you say so, Uncle Pestilence.”
“I’ll be back in a jiffy, Cap’n, with the best the Sapphire Valley has to offer.”
Halibut fled the Captain’s cabin for the sanctuary of the ship’s galley and returned a short while later with a sumptuous array. Cahoots eyes grew large at the sight of the wonderful spread. “May I, Uncle P?”
“Of course, m’boy. This little lot will put a shine on your scales.” Grimshaw rose from the table and tied a folded triangle of linen round the dragon’s neck. Cahoots murmured his thanks and grabbed a handful of cherries.
“Steady! They have stones in them.”
The dragon shot his uncle a sidelong glance. “Stones, inside these? How peculiar.”
“Just spit ’em out, lad. That’s the way it is with cherries. It’s not worth filling your noddle with inconsequential trivia.”
Cahoots had stopped listening to Pestilence the minute he sank his teeth into the delicious fruit. The blood-red juice dribbled from his mouth and spread out across the white napkin.
The meal passed pleasantly enough and Grimshaw’s guests of honour found themselves nursing comfortably full bellies. The Giant Rat proposed a toast to the pirate captain which was readily taken up by Jedediah Malahyde. Leo was suspicious that Gilbert might be more than a little tipsy, but he joined in all the same.
Cahoots declined the toast, declaring he was too full and fit to burst.
While the cabin boy was pouring Grimshaw a cup of chicory and kelp coffee, a wave hit ‘The Cheeky Monkey’ amidships, causing her to lurch violently to starboard. Crockery and cutlery flew all over the cabin and Pestilence ended up with a lapful of hot coffee.
“Pigsblanket! What do you think you’re playing at?”
The lad struggled to his feet from behind the buccaneer’s chair. He’d been floored by the powerful surge of water against the timbers of the old sailing ship.
Grimshaw’s irritation was teetering on the brink of full-blown anger. “Bring me a cloth, then sort this mess out.”
The buccaneer noticed Gilbert gaping at a fabulous display of fruit on the sideboard. Leo was spreadeagled on a small cantaloupe melon that topped the pyramid.
“While you’re at it, fetch kitty back to the table. It’s very tempting to leave him up there. He does set that fruit off a treat.”
Pigsblanket gently lifted the shocked cat and set him down next to Gilbert who fussed over him like a mother hen.
“We’re in for a batterin’ tonight, Cap’n. I reckon we won’t be sailing on the late tide after all. That reef’ll be un-navigable in these conditions.”
Grimshaw was disenchanted to hear this from his right-hand man but he was smart enough to realise Malahyde was likely to be right. “Damn and blast, Jedediah, this is not the time to be kicking our heels in Corvine Harbour, but I suppose I must defer to your better judgement. Let’s hope the storm blows itself out before it’s too late for us to sail off into the sunset with our little prisoners.”
“Prisoners, what prisoners?”
Grimshaw gave the dragon a reassuring cuddle. “Shoosh now, that’s our secret.”
“Righty-oh, Uncle P, I love secrets. Mother and I have lots of secrets.”
I’ll bet you do, thought the pirate, mentally rubbing his hands together, and wouldn’t I like to know what they are.
Back at ‘Corbie Cottage’, at the end of his first day in Crawdonia, Lorimer slept in his silver bucket by the pot-bellied stove. He dreamed of a magical child wearing a dazzling kilt and sporran who danced with dashing lions and graceful unicorns in an enchanted glade. The child laughed and sang as she spun and twirled in a kaleidoscope of fluorescent plaid, weaving her way in and out of the exotic creatures. She bore more than a passing resemblance to Wee Alfie Elf and Pogo Pixie.
“Lorimer, Lorimer, can you hear me? This is no time to sleep. I’m sending a very important package home and I want you to make sure it fulfils its destiny. Don’t let me down.”
As the images dissolved the lobster heard a voice from the outer limits of his dream.
“Mervyn, dearest, come in for a bite of supper and bring Estella with you. In my experience, wild dancing always makes a child hungry.”
The residents of Crawdonia were dazed and bewildered by the drastic change in their lives in the space of one night. The focus of the main quake was deep in the earth below Moonglow Lake.
The foreshocks had started around midnight in villages and hamlets scattered across the southern slopes of the Sapphire Valley. They grew in intensity throughout the early hours as the pressure built up along the fault line. The earthquakes struck suddenly, with unrestrained ferocity.
Whole sections of farmland and clusters of houses slipped into dizzyingly deep chasms that opened mighty jaws to receive their helpless victims. The lucky ones were thrown from their beds with no time to look out of windows to see the terrible fate that awaited them.
Others watched in fascinated horror as their neighbours’ homes shifted sickeningly on their foundations and slid into scorching pits of ash and molten rock.
The aftershocks were equally swift and deadly, sending uprooted trees through twisted roofs and hurling already damaged structures onto those who were dragging chunks of masonry from the maimed and injured.
The shire had been dealt a crushing blow and shocked fairy folk were to be found wandering around the ruins of their lives in a state of emotional paralysis.
The steady, repetitive pattern of daily life had been blown to pieces in a matter of seconds, leaving a trail of chaos in its wake and disbelieving, traumatised families desperately searching through the debris for missing loved ones and pets.
The royal household was quick to respond, but they too were dumbfounded by the extent of the destruction.
The vaults beneath Moonglow Lake had sustained major damage while the nearby spa resort of Cressmere was unaffected, that being the unpredictably random nature of earthquakes.
A detachment of the National Guard was despatched to the vaults, as soon as it was deemed safe, to assess the damage and help the injured.
Battalions of elves, goblins and imps set out from Corvine once they’d been briefed by the Royal Raven whose airborne divisions had returned with news of the worst affected areas.
Pestilence Grimshaw’s plan to sail on the late evening tide had indeed been scuppered by the appalling weather and he’d been forced to leave his brigantine at anchor in Corvine harbour. He was livid at being thwarted by unforeseen developments. Leo should have been on his way to a secret hideout beyond Sylvanian jurisdiction, from where the buccaneer planned to make his outrageous ransom demand for the cat’s safe return. Grimshaw remained undecided about the fate of the Giant Rat but Gilbert’s long-term prospects were likely to be grim.
The very last thing he wanted was to be a sitting duck in Corvine harbour if word should get out of his abduction of the unlikely pair. The catastrophe had temporarily taken attention away from ‘The Cheeky Monkey’, but Pestilence knew it was only a matter of time before his ship was boarded by the Queen’s troops and searched on some pretext or other. Unless the violent storms subsided his vessel could not sail; to attempt anything rash was foolhardy at the very least with the likely outcome of the ship foundering on Fractal Reef.
The buccaneer was in a cold fury that his plans had come to nothing and was very drunk by the time he finally crashed into his bunk, ranting and raving about lost opportunities.
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