The King's Key. Cameron Stelzer

the soggy rope onto the deck.

      ‘They’ll get us next time,’ Pete hollered. ‘And then we’re brunch!’

      As the grappling hook rose from the surface of the water and Sabre prepared to swing, Whisker hoped Pete was wrong.

      With a deafening BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! a chorus of exploding cannons filled the air. To Whisker, the sound was sweeter than birds chirping on a spring afternoon.

      With deadly speed and precision, a dozen jagged missiles pounded the metal hull of the Silver Sardine. Sabre was thrown backwards into Furious Fur and together the two cats landed in a sprawling heap on the deck. There was a defeated hiss of ‘Retreat,’ and the chase was over. When the second wave of projectiles arrived, the Cat Fish were already racing away.

      Jubilant rejoicing filled the deck of the Apple Pie. Cries of ‘We’re saved!’ and ‘Lady Luck is with us!’ echoed through the salty air. The celebration inside the navigation room was far more restrained.

      ‘What happens next?’ Pete asked, in his usual negative tone.

      ‘We sail through the blockade and escape,’ Whisker replied, sounding far more confident than he felt. ‘The warships are here to stop smugglers, not traumatised school students.’

      ‘Just because we look like a ship of traumatised school students …’ Pete said doubtfully.

      No one responded. It was clearly a matter of wait and see.

      Horace poked his head through the doorway.

      ‘Who died?’ he said, staring at the long faces.

      ‘Not you,’ Pete snarled. ‘That would be a joyous occasion.’

      ‘Quiet,’ the Captain hissed. ‘Why are you here, Horace?’

      ‘I’ve come to ask Fred for recess,’ Horace answered. ‘The whole class is starving.’

      ‘Aren’t you supposed to be steering the ship?’ the Captain asked suspiciously.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ Horace said in a relaxed tone. ‘Mr Tribble’s covering for me.’

      ‘Mr Tribble,’ Pete spluttered. ‘The plan was to sail through the blockade, not crash into it!’

      The horrified look on Horace’s face told the rats that recess could wait. He kicked the door open and darted outside. Whisker stared through the open doorway. Towering over the deck was the most enormous ship he had ever seen. Its giant claw-shaped battering ram protruded from its bow, its four masts extended high into the air and its twelve billowing sails blocked out the sun. It was a monstrous Claw-of-War, and it was on a collision course with the Apple Pie.

      Mr Tribble let out a startled cry and the crew took evasive action. Ruby and the twins tugged frantically at ropes in a desperate attempt to collapse the sails. Horace seized the wheel and spun the ship in a tight arc through the water. Whisker grabbed the door frame to steady himself as the port side of the Apple Pie lurched towards the starboard side of the warship. An entire battalion of crabs gasped as the two ships scraped past each other with a piercing screech of timber.

      For a moment the ships were locked in a grinding embrace, but with the jolt of a passing wave, they sprang apart and the collision was over. Whisker staggered backwards through the doorway, pulling the door shut behind him. With the click of the latch, there was silence.

      He cautiously pressed his nose against the glass. Outside, six hundred beady eyes stared transfixed at Horace. Whisker reached for a scissor sword, expecting the crabs to hurl themselves aboard at any moment, but not one of them twitched. The uncanny silence continued until a small voice broke the stillness.

      ‘Stupid kid,’ piped a crab. ‘You nearly killed us all!’

      ‘You’re sailing on the wrong side of the sea,’ scolded another.

      ‘That’s a week of detention,’ cried a third.

      ‘The repairs are coming out of your pocket money!’ snapped a fourth.

      Horace responded with a string of apologies: ‘Whoops … terribly sorry … it’s entirely my fault … yes, we’re insured … no, it won’t happen again … of course I’m not sailing under the influence … I know, I know. I should never let a history teacher behind the wheel – it’s all theory with them …’

      The crabs appeared convinced that Horace was in fact an inexperienced schoolboy and the mice were preschoolers in fancy dress, and let them off with a stern warning. It didn’t stop the crabs hurling a claw-full of school insults as the Apple Pie drifted past.

      ‘Oakbridge Smokebridge,’ they chanted. ‘Crab Valley High rules!’

      ‘You’ve all got head lice!’

      ‘Hey smarty pants. What’s four minus four?’

      ‘I dunno …?’

      ‘A mouse with no legs.’

      ‘Ha, ha, that’s a good one …’

      The chuckling voices drifted away in the wind and the Pie Rats sailed right through the blockade. Soon nothing lay between the bow of the Apple Pie and the open sea. Four rats and a blowfly let out a collective sigh of relief.

      ‘Well, that went well,’ Pete muttered sarcastically. ‘So much for laying low in the Shipwreck Sea, enjoying a relaxing day off. Three close encounters and it’s not even midday. Call me paranoid but I swear something’s amiss.’

      ‘You may be right, Pete,’ the Captain added gravely. ‘The Cat Fish have found us twice in as many days, which leads me to believe they know more about our quest than we first realised.’

      ‘Rat Bait,’ Pete hissed, stamping his pencil leg. ‘I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: the dirty scoundrel’s double-crossed us. He’s ratted us out, I tell you.’

      ‘But Rat Bait despises the Cat Fish as much as we do,’ Whisker piped up. ‘I saw how he acted on Sea Shanty Island when Sabre demanded the map. There’s no way he’d cut a deal with a bloodthirsty cat.’

      Pete let out a condescending snort. ‘Don’t underestimate the power of riches, young Whisker – especially when it comes to a bounty of Cat Fish silver. Rat Bait wouldn’t be the first Pie Rat captain to do the dirty on his fellow rats–’ He stopped.

      The Captain shot him a look of pure disgust. ‘My father has nothing to do with this, Pete.’

      ‘Sorry, Captain,’ Pete muttered, shrinking into the shadows. ‘I won’t mention him again.’

      ‘Good,’ the Captain snapped. ‘Because right now we have more to worry about than a couple of rotten rats.’ He pointed a shaky finger through the doorway. ‘If you hadn’t noticed, that wasn’t just a routine blockade we passed through. It was nothing short of a fully-armed battle formation. Every ship was equipped with extra cannons and additional troops. At an estimate, three quarters of the entire Aladryan navy was assembled out there. I have no doubt that something big is brewing – something that goes beyond the raids, beyond the arrests and beyond the attempts to stop the Pirate Cup.’

      ‘Oh dear,’ Fred gasped, his enormous eye spinning in manic circles. ‘Oh double dear.’

      ‘B-but what are they preparing for?’ Whisker asked fearfully.

      ‘I’m not sure,’ the Captain said, walking towards the door. ‘But there’s more to this than meets the eye and I, for one, have no intention of sticking around to find out.’ He burst onto the deck, closely followed by Whisker and the rest of the anxious crew.

      ‘Is it lunch time yet, Captain?’ Horace moaned from the helm. ‘We couldn’t possibly fit any more danger into one morning.’

      The Captain clambered up the stairs without a response, his brow deeply furrowed.

      ‘Oh, come on,’ Horace pleaded. ‘We’re in the clear and