The Island Of Destiny. Cameron Stelzer

of the key and filled the round hole at its base.

      Whisker looked beyond the cliffs, beyond the rocks, beyond the lagoon to the only glimmer of beauty on the entire island: the Rock of Hope. He could just make out the shape – a white rock, bathed in sunlight and surrounded by flowing water.

      He lowered the key but kept his gaze. His line of sight led directly through a narrow passage between the rocks.

      ‘Keep Hope in your sights,’ Whisker thought aloud. And then it came to him. ‘Of course. The riddle is meant to be taken literally. There’s only one way to keep Hope in our sights and that’s …’

      ‘Right or left?’ the Captain bellowed. ‘I need an answer.’

      ‘Neither!’ Whisker shouted. ‘Sail straight ahead.’

      ‘WHAT?’ Pete cried from the deck. ‘We’ll be wrecked on the rocks!’

      ‘Beaten to breadcrumbs!’ Mr Tribble gasped.

      ‘Pounded into pancakes!’ Emmie squeaked.

      Fred licked his lips. ‘Mmm, pancakes …’

      Pete kicked Fred with his pencil. ‘You’re not helping. None of you are helping.’ He pointed a bony finger up at Whisker. ‘Give me one logical reason why we should listen to you? And it better not involve that blasted riddle. It’s led to nothing but trouble.’

      Whisker dropped his chin and stared at his toes.

      ‘I don’t know,’ he mumbled. ‘Maybe the water is too shallow for the creature … or maybe it’s too narrow between the rocks … or maybe the wind is calmer …’

      ‘Three great reasons,’ Horace chimed in. ‘I’m convinced. Off we go then.’

      Pete stamped his pencil leg in defiance. ‘Call a vote, Captain.’

      The Captain studied the faces of his crew and nodded. ‘As you know, only full members of the crew are permitted to vote. All those in favour of sailing straight through the rocks raise your paws now.’

      Horace and Fred raised their paws. Smudge stuck four arms into the air and blew off the barrel. Ruby gave Whisker one of her expressionless stares and raised her paw.

      ‘Four votes seals it,’ the Captain confirmed.

      Pete snorted in disgust and clomped into the navigation room. Whisker mouthed an awkward thanks to Ruby, and turned to the Captain. The Captain hadn’t shifted his paws from the wheel, not even to vote, and the Apple Pie was already heading straight into the rocks.

      ‘You said straight,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I sailed straight. The vote was merely a formality.’

      ‘Do you honestly think we can make it through?’ Whisker asked.

      ‘It’s a tight squeeze,’ the Captain said, ‘but you were right about the wind. It’s much calmer in here.’

      Whisker wondered if the Captain was simply being polite. The wind swirled in mighty gusts around him, whipping up the waves and sending them crashing over the rocks. The Apple Pie rocked up and down in the centre of the narrow passage like a rubber duck in a bath tub.

      ‘A little to your starboard, Captain,’ Ruby called out. ‘I can see the bottom and there’s a rock ledge coming up.’

      The Captain gave the wheel a gentle spin and the ship turned to its right.

      ‘Pull in the sails,’ he ordered. ‘Too much speed and we’ll collide with a rock.’

      The twins tinkered with their mice knots, adjusting the sails, and the Apple Pie slowed its pace. Whisker held up the key. The Rock of Hope was still in view.

      The crew remained alert and on edge as the Apple Pie manoeuvred through the rocks. Fred and Smudge stood lookout on either side of the ship, surveying the ocean; Horace waited next to the loaded cannon and Pete remained in the navigation room, doing whatever grumpy quartermasters do on such occasions.

      Large rocks to the east sheltered the ship from the wind, but the swirling gusts returned with greater force as the Apple Pie neared the Rock of Hope.

      Pete poked his head from the navigation room.

      ‘Are we there yet?’ he muttered in a less than pleasant voice.

      ‘Shallow water dead ahead!’ Ruby cried.

      Whisker looked up. The Apple Pie approached two final rocks. One lay to his near left, and the other further to his right.

      ‘Turn her starboard, Captain,’ he said. ‘We can squeeze between the rocks and still maintain our course.’

      Smudge buzzed his wings frantically and pointed to the starboard side of the ship.

      ‘What is it?’ Horace asked with wide eyes.

      Ruby darted to the bulwark.

      ‘More rocks!’ she exclaimed. ‘Just below the surface – everywhere. We’ll run aground.’

      ‘That can’t be,’ Whisker cried. ‘The map says …’

      ‘… nothing about low tide,’ Pete cut in.

      Whisker looked ahead to the shore. A long strip of wet sand extended from the Rock of Hope to the sea. The tide was fully out. He felt his tail work itself into a knot.

      ‘Rotten pies to low tide,’ Horace groaned.

      Pete screwed up his nose. ‘Port side, Captain. Circle around the rocks. Before we bottom out.’

      The Captain let out a low growl. ‘Yet again, it seems we have no other choice. If we maintain a narrow berth around the rock on the left, we can hopefully centre up for the final approach.’

      Whisker didn’t respond. His eyes were transfixed on the rocky shape, rising like a tombstone from the crashing waves. He wasn’t superstitious, but anyone could see it was a bad omen – a very bad omen.

      ‘SAILS OUT!’ the Captain bellowed, swinging the wheel hard left. ‘And make it snappy. I want us past that rock in sixty seconds.’

      The crew rushed to the sails and began to work the ropes.

      ‘Whisker, I need you on the jib,’ Ruby shouted.

      Whisker leapt down the stairs and raced to the bow of the ship, still clutching the key in his paws. While Ruby and the mice adjusted the two larger sails, Whisker added some slack to the giant pair of underpants.

      He edged along the bowsprit and peered down. The shallow rocks beneath the surface suddenly disappeared as the Apple Pie glided over the edge of a deep ravine. He looked ahead to see the Rock of Hope vanish behind the black pillar of rock. Like a solar eclipse on midsummer’s day, their guiding light was gone – the Pie Rats were at the mercy of the Treacherous Sea.

      ‘Prepare to turn,’ the Captain commanded.

      The crew heaved on the ropes, swivelling the sails around to capture the gusty wind. The Apple Pie began curving around the rock.

      Seconds passed and Whisker grew anxious. He watched as the tip of the shoreline grew visible, the sand glowing yellow in the afternoon sunshine.

      Almost there … Whisker thought.

      The western side of the estuary came into view and then, finally, Whisker saw what he was looking for. As the Apple Pie straightened up, the Rock of Hope reappeared from behind the last rock of the lagoon.

      Whisker sighed with relief. The eclipse was over. In moments they would be in the safety of the shallows.

      THUD!

      Out of nowhere, a monstrous blow echoed through the hull of the ship, toppling barrels and shattering windows. Whisker grabbed the jib line to steady himself. Behind him, Pete slipped on his pencil and tumbled onto the deck. The mice squeaked in terror.

      The vibrations stopped and the crew grew