The Island Of Destiny. Cameron Stelzer

short legs to the south-east and then to the north-east to catch the wind. Hopefully we’ll reach the island before nightfall. I want Smudge and Fred at the bow of the ship. Let me know the moment you lose sight of the island. Ruby and Horace, you’re responsible for the sails. Whisker, you’re on the helm with me.’

      ‘Aye aye, Captain,’ cheered the crew.

      Whisker hurried up the stairs to where the Captain waited anxiously behind the wheel.

      ‘Whisker,’ he said in a low voice, ‘you remember Rat Bait’s story about the island, don’t you?’

      Whisker nodded slowly, but said nothing. It was a touchy subject, to say the least. The Captain’s father, Ratsputin, had once attempted to reach the Island of Destiny – and failed. Following his disastrous voyage, Ratsputin deserted his crew and his family. Whisker knew the Captain harboured a deep resentment towards his father and thought it safer if he kept his mouth shut and let the Captain do the talking.

      The Captain continued speaking through gritted teeth, ‘My father experienced these exact conditions when he sailed to the island. It was a stormy afternoon. There were sharp rocks, pounding waves …’

      ‘The Treacherous Sea,’ Whisker said quietly. ‘The Princess Pie and her crew barely made it out.’

      The Captain stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘If we’re going to risk the Sea, we’ll need a safe passage. I doubt our hull will hold if we collide with a rock or a sea creature.’ He straightened his back. ‘My father may have failed, but he was ill-prepared. We know the dangers we face and we have the King’s Key – something he never possessed.’

      ‘I can examine the key for clues,’ Whisker said, eager to end the conversation. ‘Maybe there’s something we haven’t spotted.’

      The Captain nodded. ‘This may be our only chance of finding the treasure.’

      A treasure with the power to alter one’s very destiny, Whisker recalled. He dared to imagine – the power to find my family.

      I’m depending on you, Whisker,’ the Captain said soberly. ‘We all are.’

      

      The Rock of Hope

      With the weight of the Apple Pie on his shoulders, Whisker descended the short flight of stairs to the navigation room.

      He found the Forgotten Map and the King’s Key lying in the centre of the table. A rough tracing of the map sat nearby, courtesy of Pencil Leg Pete.

      Just in case, Whisker thought.

      He brushed the wet fringe out of his eyes and placed the King’s Key over the hole in the island, completing the map. Glancing down at the riddle, he read: Dark and Treacherous your voyage may be, keep Hope in your sights as you pass through the Sea.

      Whisker examined the map closely, aware that the misplaced capitals were place names. The Treacherous Sea was a rocky lagoon surrounded by high cliffs. There was one entrance from the ocean and one place to go ashore: a river estuary flowing around the Rock of Hope.

      Our destination, he told himself.

      The rocks appeared to be concentrated in the centre of the lagoon, forming a deadly obstacle course. Whisker ran his finger to the left and right of the rocks.

      Two clear passages, he pondered, and one sea creature.

      He explored the map for clues, reading and rereading the riddle, but found no mention of the creature or which direction to sail.

      Struggling for clarity, he thought back to the jungle citadel where the Pie Rats first discovered the key. He’d seen directional symbols carved on the palace doorways – Right passage up … left passage down … Whisker remembered two symbols in particular: the right paw of royalty and the left paw of despair.

      Right leads to riches, Whisker considered. Maybe we should take the right passage through the lagoon?

      He looked back at the Island of Destiny. The island had its own symbol – two arrows, representing the twin mountains of the island: Mt Mobziw and Mt Moochup.

      The left mountain holds the treasure, Whisker thought, so maybe left, not right, is the correct direction …? He let his head drop into his paws in frustration.

      ‘There’s only one way to resolve this,’ he muttered.

      He rolled up the map and slid it into a canister, sealing the top with a cork. Wedging the canister into his belt next to his green scissor sword, he picked up the key.

      If the map can’t give me an answer, he thought, maybe the island can.

      Whisker 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: