Corby Flood

  Also by Paul Stewart & Chris Riddell

  Far-Flung Adventures

  Fergus Crane

  The Edge Chronicles

  Beyond the Deepwoods

  Stormchaser

  Midnight over Sanctaphrax

  The Curse of the Gloamglozer

  The Last of the Sky Pirates

  Vox

  Freeglader

  For Julie – P.S.

  For my mother-in-law, Ann – C.R.

  1. The Saddest Song

  t’s quiet and dark here, and the forest floor

  sways and rolls beneath my feet Sometimes

  I stumble, but I do not fall over, because

  I’m trapped inside this tree where it is always

  dark. Oh, how I long to see the sun again.

  How did I get here? I can hardly remember …

  Ah, yes, that’s it I followed my tongue. The sweet

  petals tasted so good, melting in my mouth, until I

  walked into this tree and got trapped inside.

  Now there is no more sun. Just quiet and darkness and swaying. I feel so sad. My heart is so full of sadness that it must surely break …

  I will sing to let the sadness out. Perhaps if I sing, the forest will stop rolling and swaying, and the sun will come back, and my heart will not break … just yet.

  The S.S. Euphonia, ablaze with twinkling lights, glided across a moonlit sea. Its funnels were topped with streams of frothy white smoke, its gleaming sides peppered with brightly lit portholes and its decks thronged with glamorous promenaders, taking the air and watching the stars.

  It was all so wonderful. So magical …

  Corby Flood reached up and touched the glass that protected the faded poster. She traced the lettering in the starry sky above the beautiful ship with a finger.

  ‘The S.S. Euphonia,’ she read. ‘“Empress of the Seas”. Enjoy the voyage of a lifetime aboard this miracle of modern nautical engineering! Cruise the oceans of the world and explore the magical places along the way! Book now for the deluxe ten-ports-ofcall cruise and receive your free copy of the famous Hoffendinck’s Guide. ’

  Corby’s grip tightened on the battered leather-bound book she was clutching under her arm.

  ‘Why, if it isn’t one of those Hoffendinck’s Guides,’ said a gloomy voice.

  Corby turned to find Captain Boris Belvedere standing before her. The captain – never cheerful at the best of times – was looking gloomier than ever. With his sagging skin and drooping moustache, he looked like nothing so much as a disappointed walrus.

  ‘Didn’t think we had any of those left on board,’ he said. ‘After all, it’s not as if the poor old Euphonia stops anywhere interesting any more. In fact she doesn’t stop anywhere at all any more! Dandoon to Harbour Heights non-stop, and back again …’ His voice was low, lugubrious and tinged with regret. ‘More’s the pity.’ He sighed. ‘Hauling cargo is all the old “Empress of the Seas” and I are fit for. That, and the odd passenger or two who can’t afford anything better …’ He looked Corby up and down somewhat disapprovingly.

  ‘Well, I think she’s a lovely ship,’ said Corby. ‘And after Father’s great disappointment …’ Her voice wavered for a moment and she swallowed hard. ‘Mother says we’ve got to learn to make the best of things and try to stay cheerful.’ And she gave the captain what she hoped was a meaningful stare.

  ‘Yes, well, ahem …’ The captain turned away. ‘Sometimes that’s easier said than done, little girl. Especially when the bilge pump has broken and your first and your second engineers have left for better jobs.’

  He cast a gloomy eye over the chipped paintwork, rusty railings and scuffed decking of the old ship.

  ‘Still, that’s only to be expected when hardly anything works any more,’ he went on. ‘The automatic parasols, the self-adjusting railings, the moving windbreaks …’ He gestured about him in a wide arc. ‘The Euphonia’s only fit for the scrapheap,’ he muttered, shaking his head. ‘Just like me!’

  ‘Good news, Captain,’ came a smooth, polished voice, and both he and Corby turned to see the ship’s first officer Lieutenant Jon-Jolyon Letchworth-Crisp standing there, a suave smile on his lips. ‘Arthur’s managed to fix the bilge pump,’ he said. ‘At least, for the time being ‘Good news?’ said Captain Belvedere. ‘If you say so, Letchworth-Crisp, if you say so …’ The captain turned and walked slowly away. ‘I’ll be in my cabin if you need me,’ he added gloomily. ‘Though why anybody should need me, I don’t know…’

  Jon-Jolyon turned to Corby and flashed a brittle smile. ‘And how is young Miss Corby Flood today?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ said Corby.

  ‘And your delightful mother and father?’

  ‘Also fine.’

  ‘And your four energetic brothers?’

  Corby nodded. They both knew that there was only one person in the Flood family he was truly interested in. The same as ever,’ she said. ‘And before you ask, so is my enchanting older sister, Serena.’

  Jon-Jolyon grinned. ‘Glad to hear it. Do give her my very best regards, won’t you?’ he said, as he turned on his heels and strode off. ‘And I hope we shall all meet up at dinner,’ he called back over his shoulder.

  Corby smiled – a smile which faded the moment she was sure the lieutenant had gone. She opened Hoffendinck’s Guide and, taking the pencil that dangled on a piece of string around her neck, she started writing …

  HOFFENDINCK’s GUIDE

  THE HERMIT ISLANDS

  These tiny crags, several hundred in number, were occupied by hermit fishermen for many years and are ideal for an afternoon picnic if passing. Consult the captain for details of tides, and always have a stout rowing boat at the ready in case of emergencies.

  Some of the more interesting islands are: Mortimer’s Crag – very rocky, but home to a legendary mermaid so hideous that she is said to frighten fishermen to death with one look.

  OLD SUSANNE

  Stefan’s Pile – covered in soft, grey sea – moss up to five feet thick, and home to eider crabs. The Old Man of Fub – famous for its nesting colony of blue – tailed goobies. Well worth a visit.

  SIGHTS TO LOOK OUT FOR:

  De Witt s Moonlight Flying Fish; a.k.a. Love Fish – on moonlit nights, these extraordinary fish can be seen swimming in large shoals close to the surface of the ocean. As the moonlight glints on the tops of the waves, the love fish engage in elaborate displays, leaping into the air in graceful arcs.

  Legend has it that any who witness the flight of the love fish fall instantly in love.

  Corby stopped writing for a moment and gazed reflectively out to sea. How strange, she thought, to be writing notes about the people she met on board, instead of notes about the interesting places mentioned in Hoffendinck’s Guide.

  When they boarded the S.S. Euphonia, she’d been so excited by the prospect of all the fascinating sights she would see on her voyage home to Harbour Heights – not that Corby could call Harbour Heights ‘home’ exactly. The only home she had ever known was the large white bungalow in Dandoon where she had been born eight years earlier. And as for the sights, it wasn’t long before Corby had discovered that the closest she would ever get was peering at them on the distant horizon as the ship sailed past.

  Still, at least she could read all about them in the guide. She squinted at a tiny black speck on the horizon.

  Was that Mortimer’s Crag? she wondered. Or Stefan’s Pile? But she was too far away even to make a guess, she realized with a sigh.

  At that moment Corby heard the sound of low muttering and shuffling footsteps coming up the stairs from the cabins below her.

  Uh – oh, she thought, snapping shut Hoffendinck’s Guide. It’s the Hattenswillers!

  Mr
and Mrs Hattenswiller appeared at the top of the stairs. They were both wearing tall, conical hats with ear flaps, and matching ankle – length coats with lots of pockets. Whenever she met them, Mr Hattenswiller would click his heels together and nod at Corby politely, while Mrs Hattenswiller would smile, and the pair of them never failed to exchange greetings. And that was where the problem lay – for no matter how hard she listened, Corby could never, ever, make out what they were saying. Sometimes Mr Hattenswiller would speak, and his wife would smile knowingly as though he had just said the cleverest thing. But Corby had heard only a mumbled murmur. And sometimes Mrs Hattenswiller would say something, and her husband would nod vigorously in agreement. But again, Corby had heard nothing but a quiet whisper.

  Once, taking a chance, she’d replied that she was ‘very well, thank you’ – but both Hattenswillers had looked at her as if she were mad. His eyebrows had shot upwards, her smile had frozen, and the pair of them had continued on their way, exchanging puzzled comments that, of course, Corby couldn’t hear properly.

  No, far better all round if she avoided them, she thought, as she scooted through the side door and onto the starboard deck.

  It was warm outside, with the sun shining down out of a cloudless sky. It was also very bright – particularly after the shadowy darkness of the hallway at the top of the stairs. Corby screwed up her eyes and stepped blindly ahead, only to trip over something in her path.

  It was a leg, or rather, a pair of legs belonging to the man from Cabin 21. He was sitting in a deckchair wearing dark glasses, a white suit and navy – blue deck shoes. The man from Cabin 21 always wore dark glasses, a white suit and navy – blue deck shoes, and he sat in the same mechanical deckchair on the same deck every day – when he wasn’t in Cabin 21, that is.

  ‘Sorry,’ Corby called across to him politely – even though she didn’t think it was her fault at all; even though, if the truth be told, she thought it was the man from Cabin 21 who should have apologized to her.

  But he neither apologized nor acknowledged Corby’s apology. It was impossible to know whether

  he’d heard her – or if he even realized what had happened. That was the thing about the man from Cabin 21. He sat all day every day in his deckchair on the starboard deck, staring out to sea – and most of the time no one knew whether he was looking for land, or just at the waves, or was fast asleep.

  Trust her, Corby thought, to avoid the Hattenswillers, only to fall over the man from Cabin 21. Shaking her head, she continued along the starboard walkway, past the raised main deck, the funnels, the lifeboats, more stairs and on towards the prow of the ship.

  This was where the really grand cabins used to be – the ones with the big bathrooms and huge sitting rooms and bedrooms the size of ballrooms. Cabin 21 was the only grand cabin left. The others had all been knocked through to make room for an enormous cargo hold.

  Corby arrived at the prow, which was – as always – deserted. That was why she liked it.

  The Hattenswillers seldom ventured far from their cabin; nor did the man from Cabin 21. As for her family, they were always far too preoccupied with other things to spend time taking in the view. That left the five sinister gentlemen in their smart suits and bottle – green hats, who had made such a fuss over the loading of their luggage when they’d boarded the S.S. Euphonia in Dandoon. Not only did they keep themselves to themselves, but they always stopped talking whenever Corby, or anyone else, passed by.

  But Corby loved the prow of the ship, especially standing up at the very front, with the wind in her hair and the sun in her eyes, watching the sharp, jutting prow slice through the oncoming turquoise – blue waves. It was, she thought, like the blade of a knife cutting through a never – ending piece of rippling silk in an absolutely straight line.

  Suddenly, from behind her, above the rumble of the engines and the splashing of the waves, she heard another sound. It was a long, sad cry – mournful, yet curiously tuneful. At first Corby thought it was seagulls, but the ship was too far out at sea for any of them to be close by – and neither was it the wind whistling through the ropes …

  Leaving the prow, Corby stepped forwards a little way and stopped. She cocked her head to one side.

  The sound seemed to be coming from the port side. She took another step, paused and listened again. No, the starboard side, she thought, retracing her steps …

  Or was it the port side, after all?

  The next moment she realized that either side would do, for the curious sound was coming from the staircase in between them – the staircase at the front of the ship which led down to the hold. Standing on the top stair, Corby listened intently, her head tilted and her brow furrowed with concentration.

  The strange, mournful cry rose and fell, now high and wavering, now low and haunting. Rising and falling, rising and falling … It was as if a sad wolf was singing to the moon, or a lonely songbird was calling to its mate.

  It was the saddest song Corby had ever heard.

  She would have liked to go down to investigate, but the doors to the hold, which had CABINS 22–40 written on them, were locked, and only Captain Belvedere had the key. Besides, just then, in the distance, the gong for dinner sounded.

  2. The Empress of the Seas

  hat was that? It sounded like the palace cymbal only more distant.

  When the palace cymbal sounds, the little girl comes with the fresh, sweet meadow grass and honey flowers. But I know it cannot be the palace cymbal because the little girl doesn’t come. Not any more …

  I am stuck, trapped in this hollow tree, and the little girl never comes now, only the strange man with the green head and creaking feet. The water he gives me is stale, but the sweet white petals are good …

  But he hasn’t been for so long, and I am hungry, and thirsty … and sad.

  ‘What’s keeping Arthur?’ said Captain Belvedere gloomily, his fingers drumming on the worn white tablecloth in front of him.

  ‘I’ll go and see, sir,’ said Lieutenant Letchworth – Crisp smoothly. He stood up and bowed his glistening head. ‘Ladies, if you’ll excuse me …’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ said Mrs Flood with a bright smile. She turned to her eldest daughter as the lieutenant left the small dining room. ‘Such a polite young man, don’t you think, Serena? Though a little less hair – oil might be an improvement

  Corby giggled, and Serena shot her a withering look before turning to her mother. ‘Mother, please!’ she whispered, flushing a delicate shade of pink. ‘You’re embarrassing me.’

  They were all sitting at one of three circular dining – room tables. At the centre of each table was a large silver cover, which was connected to the ceiling above by a snaking silver pipe. A few moments later, the sound of Lieutenant Letchworth – Crisp’s voice could plainly be heard from somewhere below them.

  ‘I don’t care if you were mending the bilge pump, Arthur!’ he was shouting. The captain wants his dinner! And so, for that matter, do I!’

  Corby got out her copy of Hoffendinck’s Guide and opened it…

  HOFFENDINCK’s GUIDE

  which is just as well, because it is not recommended on a full stomach.

  LONESOME SKERRY

  This island is famous for being home to Captain Lemuel Gibbons, whose ship, the Bonnie Rose, ran aground here two hundred years ago.

  Although his crew was rescued, Captain Gibbons refused to leave his beloved ship, and remained on the island for twenty – five years, attempting to repair it. He survived on a diet of spitting whelks, and by taking in laundry from passing ships in return for snuff and sherry.

  The phrases ‘as crisp as a Gibbons shirt’ and ‘a Lemuel sneeze on washday’ originated here.

  SIGHTS TO LOOK OUT FOR:

  Spitting Whelks (buccinum sputis), which on occasions, and for no apparent reason, spurt a pale green liquid, are found only on Lonesome Skerry.

  The Wreck of the Bonnie Rose – off the south – east coast, now no more than a few whel
k – encrusted timbers sticking out of the waves. Captain Lemuel Gibbons’ Treehouse – at the top of a skerry pine, should only be visited by experienced tree – climbers with a head for heights.

  Washday Cove – sandy beach on the north of the island, where

  Corby finished drawing the sunglasses on the man from Cabin 21 and paused. Her eyes wandered across to the opposite page of the guide.

  Out there, somewhere across the sea, was Lonesome Skerry. What would a diet of spitting whelks be like? Corby wondered. And what exactly was snuff?

  She would ask her father later, she decided; it might cheer him up and take his mind off his great disappointment …

  ‘I do apologize,’ said Lieutenant Letchworth – Crisp, coming back into the dining room. The ship’s cook says dinner will be served shortly.’

  The five sinister men in smart suits at the table by the door stopped whispering and looked up.

  ‘The ship’s cook!’ whispered Toby, Corby’s youngest older brother, to Cedric, Corby’s second youngest older brother. ‘He means Arthur, the third

  engineer!’ Corby’s four brothers sniggered. ‘Settle down, boys,’ said Mrs Flood sternly. Serena smiled at the lieutenant as he sat down at their table. That’s quite all right, Jon – Jolyon,’ she said sweetly, and nudged Corby with her elbow. ‘Put that book away,’ she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

  Corby closed the book as Captain Belvedere leaned over, a faraway look in his eyes.

  ‘Still got your Hoffendinck’s Guide, I see,’ he said in his gloomy voice. ‘Must be the last copy left on board.’ ‘It is,’ said Letchworth – Crisp suavely. ‘I found it stuffed behind the steam press in the old purser’s office. Thought the little girl might find it amusing.’ He flashed a winning smile at Serena.