Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
THE SHIP
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
THE SHEPHERD
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
THE VILLAGE
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
PRAISE FOR Castaways of the Flying Dutchman
“Jacques is a master storyteller who knows just when to boost a book’s drama, suspense, or humor to move a tale along. He also understands how to create characters—both good and evil—that ring true. Ben and Neb are wonderfully real characters whose battles to aid people in need will readily appeal to readers. Jacques’s fascination with detail will help readers feel as if they, too, are traveling to each of the three worlds visited by Ben and Neb.”
—Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
“Jacques captures the details of nineteenth-century, small-town England and its people with great panache. Readers will come to care about the good-hearted immortal boy and his faithful black lab.”
—The Horn Book Magazine
“The swashbuckling language brims with color and melodrama; the villains are dastardly and stupid; and buried treasure, mysterious clues, and luscious culinary descriptions keep the pages turning.” —Booklist
“Those who fancy old-fashioned sleuthing with a touch of fantasy may . . . find the [characters’] landbound adventures diverting.”
—The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books
“Jacques’s fans will be tickled by the characters’ goofy slap-stick.”
—Publishers Weekly
“For fans of Jacques, the length will be expected, the growth of the peripheral characters’ ability to stand up for themselves gratifying, and the murderous cruelty and evil of all the villains fitting them as valid opponents for avenging angel, boy and dog. The portrayal of the deeds of the evil captain and his equally horrible crew is vivid. It is the stuff of nightmares . . . and readers may find it haunting long after the book is read. Legend and magical elements enliven this melodramatic and sentimental tale, which will undoubtedly be loved by Redwall fans.”
—Kirkus Reviews
PRAISE FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING REDWALL SERIES
“Wonderfully imaginative.” —The New York Times Book Review
“Readers will rejoice.” —Los Angeles Times
“Children are privileged to enter the rich world of Redwall and Mossflower. So are the parents who get to come along.”
—The Boston Phoenix
“A richly imagined world in which bloody battles vie for attention with copious feasting and tender romancing.”
—The Cincinnati Enquirer
“A grand adventure story. Once the reader is hooked, there is no peace until the final page.” —Chicago Sun-Times
“Old-fashioned swashbuckling adventure.” —Locus
“The Redwall books . . . add a touch of chivalry and adventure reminiscent of the King Arthur stories.”
—The Arkansas Democrat-Gazette
“Filled with rousing adventure, strong characters, and vibrant settings.” —The Boston Sunday Globe
“Jacques’s realistically drawn characters are full of personality.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Packed with action and imbued with warmth . . . richly inventive.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Grand exploits . . . another rousing saga.” —Booklist
“Jacques’s effortless, fast-paced narrative gets its readers quickly hooked. He clearly loves this other world he has created—there’s a genuine sense of involvement and care (lots of lovingly descriptive passages), as well as an overflowing, driving imagination.”
—The Birmingham Post
“Great reading . . . entertaining. Classic confrontations between good and evil will never go out of style.” —The Orlando Sentinel
“The Medieval world of Redwall Abbey—where gallant mouse warriors triumph over evil invaders—has truly become the stuff of legend.” —Seattle Post-Intelligencer
“The Knights of the Round Table with paws.”
—The London Sunday Times
“Fast-paced adventure full of scallywags, gentle forest creatures, and incredible feasts.” —The Sacramento Bee
“Jacques offers his usual rip-roaring adventure based on archetypal struggles between good and evil. Added to this addictive mixture are lyrical descriptive passages, quirky characters with wonderful names, their dialects, ditties, and mouth-watering descriptions of the wholesome and nourishing food they are all so fond of. Great stuff.” —The Times Educational Supplement
“The saga is filled with feasting and fun as well as fighting. Jacques’s talents for creating memorable characters and weaving several plot strands into one cohesive story are at their best in this exciting adventure.” —The Horn Book Magazine
“The settings may be forest and seaside, but the themes are universal: hope and goodness, trial and initiative. There are blood-thirsty battles and peaceful encounters in the community. There are thoughtless acts of vengeance and camaraderie of the highest quality. The novels are mirrors on society as a whole but portrayed through the eyes of the creatures of the wild.”
—Salt Lake City (UT) Deseret News
“Brian Jacques has the true fantasy writer’s ability to create a wholly new and believable world.” —School Library Journal
“Jacques extols the virtues of honor and valor. . . . [The Redwall novels] are a good read, with enticing maps, plenty of songs, a dose of natural history, and loads of excitement, charm, and humor.” —The Irish Times
“Charming . . . rollicking good adventure.” —Fantasy Review
“Reminiscent of Watership Down.” —Parent’s Choice
Also by Brian Jacques
REDWALL
MOSSFLOWER
MATTIMEO
MARIEL OF REDWALL
SALAMANDASTRON
MARTIN THE WARRIOR
THE BELLMAKER
OUTCAST OF REDWALL
PEARLS OF LUTRA
THE LONG PATROL
MARLFOX
THE LEGEND OF LUKE
LORD BROCKTREE
TAGGERUNG
TRISS
LOAMHEDGE
RAKKETY TAM
HIGH RHULAIN
CASTAWAYS OF THE FLYING DUTCHMAN
THE ANGEL’S COMMAND
VOYAGE OF SLAVES
THE GREAT REDWALL FEAST
A REDW
ALL WINTER’S TALE
SEVEN STRANGE AND GHOSTLY TALES
THE RIBBAJACK
THE TALE OF URSO BRUNOV
THE TRIBES OF REDWALL: BADGERS
THE TRIBES OF REDWALL: OTTERS
THE TRIBES OF REDWALL: MICE
REDWALL MAP AND RIDDLER
BUILD YOUR OWN REDWALL ABBEY
REDWALL FRIEND AND FOE
A REDWALL JOURNAL
THE REDWALL COOKBOOK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
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actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely
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CASTAWAYS OF THE FLYING DUTCHMAN
An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2001 by Brian Jacques.
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THE LEGEND OF THE FLYING DUTCHMAN . Who knows how it all began? Throughout the centuries many a seaman could swear an oath that he had seen the phantom ship. Plowing an endless course over storm-tossed seas and the deeps of mighty oceans. Many a night, mariners have sat together in lantern-lit fo’c’sle heads, speaking in hushed tones of the vessel, and its master, Captain Vanderdecken. What awful curse sent the Flying Dutchman bound on an eternal voyage, across the trackless watery wastes, from the Marquesas to the Arctic Circles, from the Coral Seas to the Yucatán Straits, forever roaming alone? Whenever the ghostly craft is sighted, death is near. Bad fortune hovers about those poor sailors, who see by chance what they wish their eyes had never witnessed.
The Flying Dutchman!
Salt-stiff rigging and gale-torn sails flapping eerily, a barnacle-crusted prow, down by the bow in soughing troughs of blue-green waves. Crewed by silent wraiths of humanity to whom time and the elements have no end. Vanderdecken paces the quarterdeck, his face like ancient yellow parchment, hair laced by flying spume, wild, hopeless eyes searching the horizons of the world. Bound to the sea for eternity. For what dread crime? Which unspoken law of man, nature, or God, did he break? What dread nemesis doomed him, his crew, and their ship?
Who knows how it all began?
Only two living beings!
I take up my pen to tell you the tale.
THE SHIP
1
COPENHAGEN. 1620.
THEY SAT FACING ONE ANOTHER ACROSS a table in the upper room of a drinking den known as the Barbary Shark. Two men. One a Dutch sea captain, the other a Chinese gem dealer. Muffled sounds of foghorns from the nighttime harbor, mingling with the raucous seaport din outside, passed unheeded. A flagon of fine gin and a pitcher of water, close to hand, also stood ignored. In the dim, smoke-filtered atmosphere, both men’s eyes were riveted upon a small, blue velvet packet, which the gem dealer had placed upon the table.
Slowly he unwrapped the cloth, allowing a large emerald to catch facets of the golden lantern light. It shimmered like the eye of some fabled dragon. Noting the reflected glint in the Dutchman’s avaricious stare, the Chinaman placed his long-nailed hand over the jewel and spoke softly. “My agent waits in Valparaiso for the arrival of a certain man—somebody who can bring home to me a package. It contains the brothers and sisters of this green stone, many of them! Some larger, others smaller, but any one of them worth a fortune. Riches to fire a man beyond his wildest dreams. He who brings the green stones to me must be a strong man, commanding and powerful, able to keep my treasure from the hands of others. My friend, I have eyes and ears everywhere on the waterfront. I chose you because I know you to be such a man!”
The captain’s eyes, bleak and grey as winter seas, held the merchant’s gaze. “You have not told me what my reward for this task will be.”
The gem dealer averted his eyes from the captain’s fearsome stare. He lifted his hand, exposing the emerald’s green fire. “This beautiful one, and two more like it upon delivery.”
The Dutchman’s hand closed over the stone as he uttered a single word. “Done!”
The boy ran, mouth wide open, gasping to draw in the fog-laden air. His broken shoes slapped wetly over the harbor cobblestones. Behind him the heavy, well-shod feet of his pursuers pounded, drawing closer all the time. He staggered, forcing himself to keep going, stumbling through pools of yellow tavern lights, on into the milky, muffling darkness. Never would he go back, never again would the family of his stepfather treat him like an animal, a drudge, a slave! Cold sweat streamed down into his eyes as he forced his leaden legs onward. Life? No sane being could call that life: a mute, dumb from birth, with no real father to care for him. His mother, frail creature, did not live long after her marriage to Bjornsen, the herring merchant. After her death the boy was forced to live in a cellar. Bjornsen and his three hulking sons treated their captive no better than a dog. The boy ran with the resounding clatter of Bjornsen’s sons close behind him. His one aim was to escape them and their miserable existence. Never would he go back. Never!
A scarfaced Burmese seaman crept swiftly downstairs, where he joined four others at a darkened corner of the Barbary Shark tavern. He nodded to his cohorts, whispering, “Kapitan come now!”
They were all sailors of varied nationalities, as villainous a bunch of wharf rats as ever to put foot on shipboard. Drawing farther back into the shadows, they watched the staircase, which led from the upper room. The long blue scar on the face of the Burmese twitched as he winked at the others.
“I ’ear all, Kapitan goes for the green stones!”
A heavily bearded Englishman smiled thinly. “So, we ain’t just takin’ a cargo of ironware out to Valparaiso. Who does Vanderdecken think he’s foolin’, eh? He’s only goin’ out there to pick up a king’s ransom of precious stones!”
A hawkface
d Arab drew a dagger from his belt. “Then we collect our wages, yes?”
The Englander, who was the ringleader, seized the Arab’s wrist. “Aye, we’ll live like lords for the rest of our lives, mate. But you stow that blade, an’ wait ’til I gives the word.”
They took another drink before leaving the Barbary Shark.
The boy stood facing his pursuers—he was trapped, with no place to run, his back to the sea. Bjornsen’s three big sons closed in on the edge of the wharf, where their victim stood gasping for air and trembling in the fogbound night. Reaching out, the tallest of the trio grabbed the lad’s shirtfront.
With a muted animal-like grunt, the boy sank his teeth into his captor’s hand. Bjornsen’s son roared in pain, releasing his quarry and instinctively lashing out with his good hand. He cuffed the boy a heavy blow to his jaw. Stunned, the youngster reeled backward, missed his footing, and fell from the top of the wharf pylons, splashing into the sea. He went straight down and under the surface.
Kneeling on the edge, the three brothers stared into the dim, greasy depths. A slim stream of bubbles broke the surface. Then nothing. Fear registered on the brutish face of the one who had done the deed, but he recovered his composure quickly, warning the other two.