A Girl called Admiral Fairweather



  A GIRL CALLED ADMIRAL FAIRWEATHER

  The Fairweather Chronicles

  BOOK 3

  by

  Mark Douglas Stafford

  V41022142

  Copyright 2014 Mark Douglas Stafford text and graphics

  Discover other titles by this author at markdouglasstafford.com.

  Other novels by this author

  A Better Way to Stop Pirates

  The Secret Invasion of Port Isabel

  Dinosaurs Eat Paris

  CONTENTS

  Map

  Frontispiece

  Chapter 1 Admiral Fairweather

  Chapter 2 A Well Chosen Crew

  Chapter 3 Assam Tortoise

  Chapter 4 Educating Elsie Sloth

  Chapter 5 A Cruel Branding

  Chapter 6 Chain of Command

  Chapter 7 Banana Muffins

  Chapter 8 Treachery

  Chapter 9 A Stroll along the Riverbank

  Chapter 10 Signal Flags and Fog

  Chapter 11 Just a Farm Horse

  Chapter 12 Razor Reef

  Chapter 13 Home for Lunch

  Other books by this author

  About the author

  ‘When bad men combine, the good must associate;

  else they will fall one by one...’

  Edmund Burke

  (circa 1770, The Machine Age)

  CHAPTER 1

  ADMIRAL FAIRWEATHER

  Flossy had never before felt so alone, neither could she remember being so tired. She stood in the pale, pre-dawn light at her worktable, set on the damp roughhewn boards of Gateway Quay that fringed Port Isabel’s small enclosed harbour, Lunar Bay. The large, unfolded waxed-linen pirate map lay open before her, held down on one corner by a brass sextant and the other by a stubby ship’s spyglass. A candle lantern produced a steady pool of light, just enough to work by.

  She had snatched the map from Pirate Pratt’s cabin and bravely leapt into the heaving ocean through the cabin’s wide windows hoping the daredevil possum racing round the Interloper in a tiny skiff, and the dripping wet chimpanzee she had seen climbing a rope attached to tall ship’s stern, would save her if she could only reach them. She had been taken hostage by a crew of vicious pirate dogs months before and didn’t know where her parents were or even if they were still alive. The risk had paid off. Larry Monkey, as the black chimp was named, clogged the Interloper’s rudder rope holes with a couple of well-placed cheese wheels as big as pumpkins and Harry Possum scooped them from the chill waters as the Interloper grounded on a reef, the mangy crew realising the danger too late and unable to turn aside when they did because of Larry’s cheesy sabotage.

  Harry and Larry took her back to Port Isabel, the seaside town where they lived. She was surprised to learn that all the animals living there could talk. The townsfolk were rattled to meet a human, a variety of talking animal long thought extinct and belonging to the House of Human, a House both feared and revered; first because humans were believed to be cannibals—that is, that they ate other mammals, which of course was true—, and second because of their clever machines, which could sail the seas without wind and even fly without flapping—this was probably just legend, but who could say. In the dark and foggy streets of the town she was mistaken for a pirate, only managing to escape by fleeing across slippery rooftops with Larry’s help. There was a riot which lead to the fiery destruction of the Museum of Ancient Antiquities—the townsfolk had mistakenly believed she was inside with a pirate invasion force and set it alight to stop the pirate menace once and for all. But there were no pirates inside; and neither was she, thankfully.

  Harry Possum eventually persuaded the sceptical townsfolk that Flossy was merely a victim of piratical tyranny and not the instigator; that the riot had been a case of mistaken identity; that she could be trusted even though she wore clothes and had no fur to speak of, excepting the patch on her head called hair. Flossy was beginning to feel at home in Port Isabel, having been warmly received over breakfast at the Stinging Nettle Café by Harry’s and Larry’s friends: an elephant school teacher named Reginald who knew just about everything, and Stanley, a warm-hearted dapple-grey horse who loved to gallop. She even had the beginnings of a plan to find her parents, with Harry’s help. Then the pirates struck in revenge for the destruction of their ship and carried off Harry and a sloth named Sally. Larry’s attempt to stop them had been foiled by a black boar with more strength that sense.

  But Mayor Lion had acted swiftly, making Flossy Joint Admiral of the hastily assembled Port Isabel Navy, tasked with the grim purpose of perusing the pirates to their destruction and bringing back unharmed, Harry Possum and Sally Sloth. Iscariot Snake was to be her second-in-command. She didn’t trust him but respected the Mayor’s judgement and was determined to make it work, besides this way she could keep an eye on him.

  It had taken until after midnight to divide volunteers between the Hammer, the name she’d chosen for her strike-force, and the Ghost Fleet, the name Assam—Joint Admiral Assam as he was now—had finally chosen for his. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Iscariot Snake’s idea was a good one. The Hammer, made up of dozens of small but quick craft, would seek out the pirates then strike hard and fast. Later, the Ghost Fleet, consisting of the Serendipity, captained by Assam Tortoise, and the Happy Trader, captained by the black boar—newly promoted to Captain Boar, unfairly in her opinion after what he did to Larry—, would sneak up undetected and either finish the job or help tidy up. The Serendipity and the Happy Trader would be fully provisioned with everything needed for a long chase in case any of the dogs got away. They were the two largest vessels Port Isabel had at its disposal. She was sure Harry wouldn’t mind them using the Serendipity as it would also be used for his and Sally’s own rescue. If everything went to plan, they would end the pirate menace for years to come and be safely home in time for dinner. She wondered if the Stinging Nettle Café served dinner too.

  Flossy had carefully selected the most agile and nautically experienced volunteers for the Hammer. The primates had been a natural choice. Mountain gorillas, chimpanzees and gibbons could swing through the rigging and easily leap from one ship to another where they could descend like spiders onto the backs of the deck-bound dogs. The alligators and crocodiles, with their fierce countenance and powerful jaws, could swim just as well in salt water as in fresh. They could easily scoop up any stray dogs trying to escape and would intimidate the rest into surrendering. There was a mixture of smaller animals of various species—or Houses, as they were called here—who she had accepted only because they’d pleaded so insistently. By her book, anyone sufficiently keen to risk life and limb in the pursuit of justice would make up in zeal what they might otherwise lack in strength or speed, or seamanship for that matter.

  Flossy had also chosen a number of larger beasts from the cat family including panthers, jaguars and lions. They felt a natural animosity for dogs that could be useful. And even though they didn’t much like water, they had razor sharp claws and teeth that would subdue any dog intent on putting up a fight in the face of such an overwhelmingly strong adversary as the Port Isabel Navy.

  Volunteers had worked all night, following her orders, to prepare the Hammer for dawn departure. As the morning chill rose to meet the wisps of pink-tinged cloud in the purple sky, final preparations were being made. In one night the town’s fishing fleet had been miraculously transformed into a functional navy. Fishing nets, tackle and booms had been removed, armour plating and small cannons installed. Holds made for transporting fish had been scrubbed clean and turned into crew compartments. They were even rigged with hammocks of various sizes and designs, in case a long chase
was required. Gaffing hooks had been exchanged for pikes, fishing rods for swords. The larger fishing boats even had improvised brigs; cages with iron locks that could be used to secure captured enemy combatants. Final provisioning was now occurring. There was enough food for three days sailing. It was unlikely the whole action would take longer than three days but if it did, they would rendezvous with the Ghost Fleet—made up of the tall ships Serendipity and the Happy Trader—and resupply en route. As a final touch, purely for its symbolic value, each vessel in the Hammer would fly Port Isabel’s flag; an owl over waves on a navy-blue field. This was Stanley’s idea and Flossy thought it a good one. Now, the flags all hung limp in the still morning air.

  Despite thorough and careful planning and the apparent preparedness of the Port Isabel Navy, Flossy couldn’t dismiss a niggling doubt they’d all overlooked something important. Despite covering every likely contingency, and a number of unlikely ones, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been missed, something that mattered; something crucial. But she was hungry and tired, perhaps that’s all it was.

  ‘Excuse me. Do you think you could scrounge up some breakfast for me?’ Flossy asked a passing ostrich saddled with baskets of provisions. ‘I’m famished.’

  ‘You’ve chosen the right ostrich, Admiral Fairweather,’ the ostrich said, approaching Flossy with sharp steps. Her knees swept backwards when she walked, not forwards like a human’s. Her tiny bald head with its angular beak was balanced on top of a slender s-shaped neck. Fuzzy, creamy feathers went down her neck to the dark brown feathers of her large, round body.

  When the ostrich reached Flossy she turned side on. The baskets she carried were loaded with tasty looking pastries. ‘Help yourself, dear. The monkeys don’t appreciate them anyway. I might as well give them hunks of dried bread. I’ve yet to meet a monkey gourmet. Not that I mind monkeys, in fact I am rather fond of them. They have an appetite, you see; I’ll give you that, even if they can’t tell the difference between hunks of dried bread and…’

  Flossy chose an apple strudel freckled with cinnamon, her favourite, and a blueberry muffin. It was years since she had eaten fresh fruit because she had been years at sea with her parents aboard the Enterprise as it explored the Pacific Ocean in search of land and lost civilisations. That was before she was kidnapped by pirates and rescued by Harry and Larry. ‘Thank you. You’re from the café, aren’t you?’ she asked conversationally. She had given orders all night and it would be nice to talk to someone about something other than the impending mission, even if was about baked goods or how difficult it must be to cater to so many animal appetites.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, dear. Just doing my bit to help where I can, like everyone else. No more and no less, as they say. I can’t fight—no arms, you see, just these flightless wings—but I can cook so that will have to be my small contribution to our war effort.’ She spoke quickly and her small head flicked left and right to look at Flossy with alternate eyes. ‘I’m fast when I want to be but I couldn’t even pick up your sword, except with my beak but then I couldn’t see properly to swing. It makes me dizzy just trying to imagine finding myself in the middle of a swordfight wielding a heavy sword like yours while my opponent laughs. Still, I should be grateful…’

  ‘What’s your name?’ Flossy asked, interrupting. She realised the ostrich was the kind of person who would happily keep talking even after her audience had fallen asleep.

  ‘My name? Why, my name’s Ava Ostrich. And thank you for asking. You meet so many people that don’t care to ask. They’re too busy with their own affairs or just not curious to begin with, if you know what I mean. I think the least curious…’

  While Ava chattered, Flossy took a bite of the apple strudel. The cinnamon-dusted doughy bun was soft and sweet. It was filled with swollen sultanas and translucent stewed apple, still warm from the oven. To Flossy, whose last meal was a banana wrapped in a slice of thin bread, eaten whist standing on weary feet selecting volunteers in the Hall of Deliberation, it tasted heavenly and she had to stop herself from stuffing it all in her mouth in one go. ‘This is… truly… mmm… scrumptious.’ She swallowed and licked her cinnamon lips. ‘I’m so glad you cook, and so well. This is just like the strudel Cook used to make—he was on the ship I grew up on, the Enterprise. Though he used dried fruit, which didn’t taste nearly as good as this.’ She filled her mouth again.

  The ostrich reached back and adjusted her saddle baskets with precise movements. She was smiling when she faced Flossy again. ‘It’s nice of you to say, dear. So few take the trouble to say anything nice, you know. Even the more talkative ones are too busy with their own little dramas to notice when someone does something for them, or to really listen for that matter. They just take everything and everyone for granted, if you know what I mean.’

  Ava stopped abruptly. Flossy hoped it wasn’t because her eyes had glazed over. She hadn’t slept for twenty-four hours and there were still many things to do before they departed, but it was rude not to give a person your full attention, especially if they were a volunteer like Ava, who gave her time and resources so freely. Volunteers had to be treated with more respect that regular soldiers and sailors if one hoped for loyalty, and to secure their help next time.

  ‘I do go on, don’t I!’ said Ava self-depreciatingly.

  ‘No, I…’ Flossy stuttered, abashed.

  ‘And I haven’t yet thanked you, have I? We all really appreciate what you’re doing for us. I know you’re new to Port Isabel but you’ve shown us that we don’t have to take it on the beak anymore, that we should stand up together and fight back. I don’t remember the last time anyone managed to get everyone so focused and committed to a single course of action. People round here are inclined more towards talk than action. If you hadn’t put up your hand last night, we’d all still be arguing about what to do. It’s like I always say…’

  Flossy mumbled her thanks.

  ‘Here, have some hot chocolate to wash down the strudel. It’ll still be warm, I dare say,’ said Ava, turning.

  Ava’s other saddle basket included three wooden thermoses, half-a-dozen fat china mugs and a clay jar containing marshmallows. Flossy removed the wide cork from one of the wooden thermoses and poured a generous serve of steaming hot chocolate into an oversized mug. Then she dropped in a plump, pink marshmallow that she had taken from the clay jar.

  ‘Thanks, this is just what I need,’ Flossy said, taking a tentative sip. The chocolate was rich and creamy. She’d never tasted better. ‘Mmm, this is delicious! I know where to find more when we come home. Did you make this?’

  Ava warbled good-naturedly as her head jerked back and forth. ‘Yes, I did. I only use the creamiest milk and the best chocolate powder. The trick is warming the milk sloth-slow so it doesn’t scald. I’ve been making it this way for near on ten years now, ever since I took over management of the Stinging Nettle from the old tyrant who… Oh, but I do go on, don’t I!’

  Flossy smiled over the rim of her mug. The way Ava prattled was a little annoying but right now she needed a distraction from the burden of responsibility she had agreed to carry. It weighed heavily on her.

  ‘Heroes get to eat for free at the Stinging Nettle, dear,’ said Ava. ‘And drink too, if you’re so inclined.’ She nodded at Flossy’s mug. ‘We serve hot chocolate all day. Now you must tell me: how’s it all going?’ She inclined her small head sympathetically towards Flossy.

  Flossy used her mug to warm her cold fingers. Little wisps of steam rose from the top in the chill morning air. ‘I think we’re close. Loading is almost complete and I expect our crews to arrive soon.’ She looked up and down the quay but there were few animals yet to see. ‘I sent everyone I could home for rest and goodbyes. We don’t have anywhere enough berths for the size of our fledgling navy, but we’ll have to make do. The pirates took ten of our largest and fastest boats right from under our noses, and they hulled a further six. Those we’ve repaired and pumped dry. The Port Isabel Navy is made
of converted fishing boats and a few fast skiffs. We should be grateful they didn’t take the Happy Trader. It’s a mystery why, for it’s the biggest and most like the ship they lost. I don’t know why Pirate Pratt wouldn’t want to spread his crew across so many small boats.’

  It worried her that she had too many crew in too few boats. If they were caught in a storm, overloaded boats might capsize. And the matter of the Happy Trader worried her too. Why hadn’t the pirates taken the bulbous ship and all the cargo it held in its fat belly? Did they already have another ship to replace the Interloper? She had not factored this possibility into her plans because she couldn’t reasonably imagine how it might be possible.

  ‘That’s the spirit, Admiral!’ cried Ava, her head darting side-to-side. ‘One angry beast with right on her side is better than a hundred fighting frigates. Why, I have even heard of battles between monospecies towns that were won by the herbivores with nothing more than conviction and good planning. I even once heard of… Oh, there I go again, nattering and chattering. Where do you think the pirates are, dear?’ Ava looked past Flossy to the pirate’s map laid out on the old wooden worktable behind her.

  Flossy stepped towards the worktable as she took another sip from her mug. ‘Please call me Flossy. I’ve never been very comfortable with titles.’ She pushed her curly hair away from her mouth as she ran her finger across the map. ‘We think there’s really only one place the pirates could have gone and that’s back to the Interloper. Pirate Pratt’s crew took our boats to move their treasure and supplies. They’ll take them to a land base somewhere until they can acquire another ship or repair theirs. We expect to catch them loading when we arrive later this morning. It should be a brief fight. They’ll be surprised and outnumbered. It’s the last thing they’ll expect.’