The Forgotten Map. Cameron Stelzer

alone with his thoughts. Finally, his anxious body began to relax and he drifted off to sleep.

      

      A Mysterious Letter

      It was late afternoon when Wentworth stirred from his slumber. He hadn’t eaten in two days, and was overjoyed when Fred arrived at his bedside with a freshly cooked plum pie. Wentworth devoured every plum and every last crumb.

      He’d barely finished eating when the rest of the crew marched into the cabin.

      ‘I trust you’re feeling better this afternoon, Wentworth?’ the Captain asked cheerfully.

      After eating an entire pie, Wentworth wasn’t sure how he felt, but nodded all the same.

      ‘From now on,’ the Captain said, ‘you will no longer be known as Wentworth Winterbottom.’

      ‘But that’s my name,’ Wentworth gasped.

      ‘Was your name,’ Pete corrected. ‘It would never do for a Pie Rat name.’

      ‘W-what are you talking about?’ Wentworth stammered. ‘Why do I need a Pie Rat name?’

      ‘Because,’ the Captain replied, ‘we don’t carry passengers and we don’t take prisoners, and because I have sworn to protect you, I can’t throw you overboard. Therefore, from this day forward, there is only one other option – you are now one of us.’

      Wentworth was speechless. He tried to appear grateful, but this wasn’t a career choice he would have willingly made.

      Ruby crossed her arms and looked down at him with a frown. It was obvious she had similar reservations about him joining the crew.

      ‘As a new recruit,’ the Captain explained, ‘you will undertake a Pie Rat apprenticeship. Once you have passed the seven Pie Rat tests you will become a full member of the crew.’

      ‘But what if I fail?’ Wentworth blurted out.

      ‘Don’t worry, you won’t fail,’ Horace encouraged. ‘You’ve already passed the first test.’

      ‘Which is?’ Wentworth asked.

      ‘Surviving when you should have died,’ Horace replied. ‘It’s a great skill to have. If you’ve done it once, you can do it again.’

      Wentworth had no desire to test this theory.

      ‘On the subject of survival,’ the Captain said, ‘I thought your new name should reflect the dramatic nature of your rescue.’

      Wentworth crossed his fingers and hoped it wasn’t something ridiculous like Washed-up Waterbottom.

      The Captain extended his paw to Wentworth. ‘From this day forth, you will be known as Whisker, the brave Pie Rat who narrowly escaped death. Welcome to the Pie Rats.’

      With a hesitant shake of the Captain’s paw, Wentworth’s story ended and Whisker’s began.

      It wasn’t long before Whisker was back to full health. Pete made it perfectly clear he wanted his cabin back, so Whisker moved into the cramped sleeping quarters of Horace and Fred. His hammock wasn’t as comfortable as Pete’s soft bed but it certainly beat sleeping on the floor of a circus tent.

      ‘If you’re going to make it in this industry, you’ll need a new look to match your new name,’ Horace said, fossicking through a pile of old clothes. He pulled out a familiar navy blue shirt with his hook and held it up for Whisker to see. ‘Perfect!’ he exclaimed. ‘This one’s your size.’

      ‘I can’t wear that,’ Whisker protested. ‘It’s missing an entire sleeve.’

      ‘All the better,’ Horace argued. ‘You’ll have easier movement for swashbuckling sword fighting. Besides, it gives you a roguish charm – and the ladies will love it!’

      Whisker awkwardly put on the shirt, fastened a large pie-buckled belt around his waist and unsuccessfully tried to straighten the messy fur on the top of his head.

      ‘Don’t do that,’ Horace scolded. ‘You look too respectable as it is. No one will ever take you seriously as a Pie Rat.’

      Whisker knew Horace was right. Unlike Horace’s scarred cheeks and squat body, Whisker had smooth coffee fur, sparkling blue eyes and well-positioned teeth. The unruly fur on his head was the only exception.

      ‘Try this,’ Horace said, throwing Whisker a black bandanna. ‘It’s nit free and will keep the fur out of your eyes.’

      Whisker tied the bandanna around his head and turned to face a cracked mirror on the wall. His fur stuck out the top like the leaves of a pineapple and several strands hung over the sides.

      ‘Shiver me britches!’ Horace cried. ‘You look like you’ve just been dragged from a sinking ship!’

      Whisker’s tail drooped.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Horace groaned, ‘I didn’t mean to remind you …’

      ‘That’s okay,’ Whisker said. He hated the thought of his family’s boat sinking, so he decided to change the subject. ‘So what was the Apple Pie doing in the middle of a cyclone?’

      ‘You can thank the Captain for that,’ Horace replied. ‘We were casually sailing along the equator when the Captain collected a mysterious letter from a remote island post office. The next minute he had the ridiculous idea to change course and sail straight through the Cyclone Sea.’

      ‘What do you think the letter said?’ Whisker asked.

      Horace lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘I didn’t read the contents but I overheard the Captain talking to Pete. I think they’re both in on it.’

      ‘In on what?’

      ‘I don’t know. But whatever it is, it’s on the move.’

      ‘So where is it now?’ Whisker asked, with growing interest.

      ‘Who knows?’ Horace said with a shrug. ‘We lost a few days with the search and rescue so it could be anywhere.’

      ‘Can’t we just ask the Captain?’ Whisker ventured.

      ‘That’s not how it works,’ Horace explained. ‘The Captain will tell us everything when there’s something to tell. Until then, we carry on as usual: plundering, pillaging, pilfering … Oh, and playing dress-ups …’

      He was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Ruby.

      ‘Check out the new and improved Whisker,’ Horace exclaimed as Ruby stepped inside. ‘Doesn’t he look sensational?’

      Whisker felt his tail wrap itself around his leg. His over-emotional tail, as his parents called it, had a nasty habit of acting on its own whenever he was anxious or stressed. He hoped Ruby hadn’t noticed.

      Ruby seemed more interested in his choice of clothing. She looked him up and down and then straightened her cherry red vest.

      ‘Well it’s not my style,’ she said emphatically, ‘but I hear the tropical fruit look is in this summer.’

      Whisker gave her a half-smile. She kept a straight face.

      ‘By the way, boy,’ she continued, ‘the Captain wants to see you immediately. He’s in his cabin.’

      Without waiting for a reply, Ruby spun around and walked out of the room.

      ‘Is she always like that?’ Whisker asked. ‘Or is it something I said?’

      ‘Pete’s usually