Fergus Crane Page 5

  Fergus stopped in his tracks.

  The painting was of a father and mother and two sons. The older boy was about twelve, the younger … Fergus swallowed hard. The younger boy looked exactly like him! He read the plaque on the picture frame. The Crane Family, it said.

  Fergus needed to sit down. He felt light-headed, and there was a strange fluttery feeling in his tummy. He went over to the armchair and flopped down heavily into the soft, leather upholstery. It was then that his eyes fell on the cover of the battered leather book on the table beside him.

  The Log of the Betty-Jeanne, it said.

  ith a trembling hand, Fergus opened The Log of the Betty-Jeanne and began to read.

  Too stunned to speak, Fergus turned the page. But there was nothing more. He sat in the armchair gazing out of the gallery windows at the mountains, trying to take it all in. The next moment, the door opened and three penguins marched in followed by a man in a mechanical walking chair.

  ‘My dear Fergus,’ he said. ‘We meet at last. It's me, dear boy. Your long-lost Uncle Theo!’

  he penguins were holding trayfuls of delicious breakfast things, and behind them walked a mechanical table set with places for two.

  ‘Come, my boy,’ said Uncle Theo, smiling kindly. ‘Let's talk over breakfast. I'm sure you're hungry after your little trip, and I expect you have a few questions you'd like to ask.’

  ‘I don't know where to begin,’ said Fergus distractedly as the table settled in front of him and the penguins started setting down croissants, and hot chocolate, and pots of jam and honey on the white tablecloth.

  ‘First things first,’ said Uncle Theo, steering his chair over to join him. ‘Meet Finn, Bill and Jackson, my associates. Jackson let you in on your arrival, I believe.’

  The penguins gave a little bow.

  ‘If you'll excuse us,’ said Finn, or perhaps Bill, or Jackson – Fergus wasn't sure which, ‘we've got some pruning to do in the greenhouses.’

  ‘Of course, Bill,’ said Theo, pouring Fergus a large mug of foaming hot chocolate. ‘You run along. Fergus and I have everything we need, don't we Fergus, my boy?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Fergus, taking the mug from his uncle and sipping it tentatively. It tasted delicious.

  ‘Just a little something we're experimenting with here at the Fateful Voyage Trading Company,’ Uncle Theo said as the penguins left the gallery. ‘Hot chocolate with macadacchio nut essence …’ He sighed, long and deep. ‘Aah, the macadacchio nut! Where would the Cranes be without it? Why, that little nut has made all this possible.’

  Uncle Theo spread his arms wide in a gesture that took in the whole gallery.

  ‘But I'm getting ahead of myself,’ he said, taking a croissant and giving it a liberal coating of honey. ‘Fergus, you must have some questions. Ask away, old boy. Ask away.’

  ‘How did you find me?’ asked Fergus, a chocolatey moustache on his upper lip. ‘And why are you my long-lost Uncle Theo? And why am I in danger? Danger from what? And …’

  ‘Fergus, Fergus, Fergus,’ smiled Uncle Theo, croissant crumbs round his mouth and his eyes twinkling behind his wire-framed spectacles. ‘Relax, my dear boy, and have one of these excellent croissants. I shall tell you everything. But first, meet your family.’

  He gestured to the portraits on the wall.

  ‘That stern-looking gentleman in the top hat is my grandfather, your great-grandfather. He founded the family firm of Crane and Sons. Back then, we specialized in button-making. I take it you've heard of the “Crane Double Fastener”?’

  Fergus shook his head.

  ‘Never mind, never mind,’ said Uncle Theo. ‘Once, every raincoat worth the name had to have a “Crane Double Fastener”. Next to him is grandmother Marianna, his wife, and there,’ he said, pointing to the portrait of the jolly couple, ‘are Nanny and Pappy Dubois, bless them. My mother's parents. My mother, your grandmother, was none other than the famous portraitist, Rachel Dubois. You must have heard of her.’

  Fergus shook his head again.

  ‘Never mind, never mind,’ said Uncle Theo. ‘Once, no drawing-room in the land was worth the name without a Dubois hanging above the mantelpiece. She painted all these, you know. Rather fine, don't you think?’

  Fergus nodded.

  ‘Next,’ Uncle Theo continued, ‘are my father's sisters. Aunts Polly, Molly and Dolly. Inseparable they were, right up to the very end.’

  ‘The very end?’ said Fergus.

  ‘Terrible incident,’ said Uncle Theo. ‘During the second act of a production of the musical farce The Cycling Fish, the elephant escaped and ran amok in the stalls. They didn't stand a chance.’

  ‘I've heard of The Cycling Fish!’ said Fergus.

  ‘Really?’ said Uncle Theo surprised. ‘I didn't think they performed it any more. How very curious … Anyway.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Here,’ he said, and gestured to the family portrait on the wall above them, ‘is my father, Theodore, my mother, Rachel, me and …’

  ‘My father!’ said Fergus excitedly.

  ‘Indeed, indeed,’ said Uncle Theo, a sad, faraway look in his eyes. ‘Your father, the great Captain Marcus Crane, explorer and adventurer – and discoverer of the macadacchio nut!’

  Fergus stared at the boy in the picture. The look on his face was the same image of cheeky-grinned, sparkly-eyed mischief that he knew so well from the photograph of his father at home.

  ‘Dear Marcus,’ Uncle Theo was saying. ‘Back when my mother painted this, Crane and Sons had fallen on hard times. The “double fastener” was old-fashioned; everybody wanted zips, and we lived on the money my mother made from her painting. I remember Marcus saying to me when I was recovering from my illness …’

  ‘Your illness?’ said Fergus, turning back from the portrait.

  ‘Rheumatic fever,’ said Uncle Theo. ‘After which, these …’ He tapped his legs. ‘Were quite, quite useless …’

  His voice trailed away, and for a moment they sat in silence.

  ‘Anyway, as I was telling you,’ Uncle Theo continued, ‘I remember Marcus saying to me, “Theo, there has to be more to life than buttons. There's a great big world out there, and you and I are going to explore it, together!” He was trying to cheer me up, you see,’ Uncle Theo smiled. ‘Both of us knew I'd never walk again, and that he'd have to do all the exploring on his own.

  ‘After Papa died, I took over Crane and Sons, and Marcus set off on his first big adventure. The voyage to the Palace of Ice. That's where he met Finn, Bill and Jackson. Saved his life they did, rescuing him from the icemen on their walrus chariots – but that's a long story. Remind me to tell you it some time.’

  ‘I will,’ said Fergus, his eyes wide with wonder.

  ‘Well anyway, while Marcus was away, I moved out of buttons and into inventing. Oh, simple things at first – the Crane self-adjusting wall lamp; the automatic bookcase … I found I had a talent for it. All those years spent in bed and in wheelchairs had given me plenty of time to think, you see.’

  Fergus nodded, helping himself to another croissant.

  ‘Crane and Sons was just about keeping its head above water, and I even managed to find the money to buy an old tea-clipper for Marcus's next voyage.’

  ‘The Betty-Jeanne!’ said Fergus.

  ‘The very same, my boy. The very same. Well, Marcus sailed away to the Emerald Sea, discovered the macadacchio nut and brought it home. I grew a greenhouse full of macadacchio trees from the half dozen nuts he'd returned with, and Crane and Sons’ fortune was made.’ He shook his head. ‘Why we couldn't have left it like that, I'll never know. But then Marcus was never the settling-down type – even when he met your mother, the lovely Lucia.’

  Fergus wiped the croissant crumbs away and listened closely.

  ‘She was an orphan, you know,’ Uncle Theo said. ‘Taught herself to cook. She applied for a job here, which is how the two of them met and fell in love. It was perfect until …’ Uncle Theo's voice trailed off a second time.

&nbs
p; ‘Until what?’ said Fergus, leaning forward.

  ‘The fateful voyage.’ Uncle Theo stroked the cover of the log book of the Betty-Jeanne. ‘But then,’ he said, looking back at Fergus, ‘you know all about that.’

  mazing!’ said Fergus, looking up at the enormous trees that towered above them.

  ‘Yes, they truly are,’ said Uncle Theo. He patted the nearest macadacchio tree, its orange trunk decorated with big circular knots and whorls. ‘The Fateful Voyage Trading Company has five hundred and seven fully grown macadacchio trees here in our greenhouses on Overlook Mountain,’ he said proudly.

  They had left the gallery of the mountain chalet and taken a cable car across to a nearby mountainside, on which were built three enormous glass-domed greenhouses. Inside each one was a penguin, busy tending to the extraordinary macadacchio trees.

  ‘So you changed the name from Crane and Sons to The Fateful Voyage Trading Company?’ said Fergus, turning to his uncle.

  ‘That's right, my boy. With just me left, I felt Crane and Sons didn't quite ring true. And changing the name seemed like a good way to remember your father.’

  Fergus paused. ‘And my mother?’ he asked. ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘She never spoke to me again,’ said Uncle Theo sadly. ‘You see, she blamed me for encouraging your father to set off on that fateful voyage. After he sailed, she never said another word to me – just stayed in her room, weeping. Of course, I had no idea that she'd just found out she was expecting you.’ He sighed. ‘Then, six months later, the Betty-Jeanne shows up and Smollet comes to see me, cool as you like.’

  Uncle Theo tutted and shook his head. ‘A bad lot, that Smollet, and his crew. I blame myself for not checking them out more thoroughly when Marcus first took them on. The trouble was, Fergus, your father was a good man and he always tried to see the good in other people. Smollet took advantage of that.’

  ‘We call him Captain Claw,’ said Fergus. ‘But only behind his back.’

  ‘A good many others also know him as Captain Claw, as I found out,’ said Uncle Theo sharply. ‘He's been jailed for piracy and swindling in ports up and down the coast. And apparently he's got six wives.’

  ‘I think I've seen their photographs,’ said Fergus. ‘My favourite is Mrs Sweetwater Keys.’

  ‘The man's an absolute scoundrel,’ said Uncle Theo angrily, ‘and his crew are just as bad. Rascals, the lot of them! Lizzie Blood. Red-Beard Spicer. One-Eyed Jack Woodhead. And Short John Gilroy. Nothing but a bunch of pirates! Unfortunately, I found out too late.’ He sighed. ‘When they returned without Marcus, Smollet – or Captain Claw to you – came to see me. He made me sign over the Betty-Jeanne to him, in return for the log.’

  ‘You exchanged the Betty-Jeanne for an old book?’ said Fergus with surprise.

  ‘But Fergus,’ said Theo, ‘don't you understand? That old book contains the last thing your father ever wrote. What's a ship compared to that? The blackguard even threatened to burn the log if I didn't agree. I couldn't let that happen …’

  Fergus could see tears in his uncle's eyes. Uncle Theo cleared his throat noisily.

  ‘But it was the last straw as far as your mother was concerned,’ he went on. ‘She packed her bags and vanished in the middle of the night.’ He shook his head. ‘Dear Lucia,’ he said wistfully. ‘Does she still end up with a little white moustache after a glass of milk? And sneeze when the sun catches her unawares?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Fergus, smiling. ‘Yes, she does.’ He frowned. ‘But Uncle Theo, how did you find her again?’ he asked, stepping aside to let Finn, or Bill, or Jackson – he wasn't sure which – waddle past, pushing a wheelbarrow full of macadacchio nuts.

  ‘I didn't,’ said Uncle Theo. ‘Jackson, here, did. Didn't you, Jackson?’

  The penguin nodded and tipped the nuts down a chute set into the greenhouse floor.

  ‘You see, Jackson keeps a scrapbook. Ask him to show it to you some time, it's quite remarkable. Full of cuttings from magazines and newspapers, even books, though I do try to discourage him from tearing pages out of books …’

  Uncle Theo gave Jackson a stern look. The penguin ignored him, picked up a watering can and waddled off.

  ‘Where was I?’

  ‘The scrapbook,’ said Fergus.

  ‘Ah, yes, the scrapbook. Full of things about penguins – pictures, articles, advertisements. If it has a penguin in it, Jackson cuts it out and sticks it in his scrapbook. Well, imagine my surprise when Jackson came to me with a photograph cut out of the Montmorency Gazette …’

  ‘The cake!’ Fergus exclaimed excitedly. ‘The cake with the icing-sugar penguins that Mum baked for Dr Fassbinder's faculty party!’

  ‘The very same,’ said Uncle Theo, clapping his hands together. ‘I recognized Lucia at once, as did Jackson. It was a simple matter to get in touch with Montmorency Academy and find out that the cake came from Beiderbecker's Bakery. Of course I knew that your mother wanted nothing to do with me, would certainly reject my help if I offered it – and might even disappear again if I wasn't careful. So I sent Jackson to find out more.’

  ‘Jackson?’ said Fergus, perplexed. ‘Jackson came to Beiderbecker's Bakery?’

  ‘In disguise, obviously,’ said Uncle Theo. ‘A rather tight-fitting Canada goose suit with mechanical wings. He came back in a foul temper swearing never again to agree to another of my schemes. Got wedged in a tree in Montmorency Gardens for a day and a half apparently. Still, he saw enough to confirm that Lucia did indeed work behind the bakery counter at Beiderbecker's, and lived in attic rooms next door in Archduke Ferdinand Apartments. He saw something else, too,’ Uncle Theo added. ‘A boy working behind the cake counter.’

  ‘Me!’ said Fergus.

  ‘And the rest, you know,’ said Uncle Theo. The legs of his mechanical chair clicked on the shiny paved path as they made their way from the greenhouse back to the cable car. Once inside and descending to the chalet, Uncle Theo continued. ‘I had to find out about you, Fergus – and thanks to your co-operation, I did. You can imagine my alarm when I discovered that of the three schools you might have attended, one was the improbably named School Ship Betty-Jeanne!

  ‘The thought of you attending such an establishment filled me with horror, Fergus, which was why I had to take such dramatic measures. And from what I've found out about this “school ship” of yours, it looks as if I was right to be so alarmed. Captain Claw is up to no good.’

  The cable car came to a smooth halt and the doors slid open. Fergus and Uncle Theo stepped out into the gallery. As they did so, Fergus heard the patter of tiny feet approaching.

  ‘The Lunchomatic!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Just a little ruse of mine,’ said Uncle Theo as the lunchbox skidded to a halt on its six legs. ‘This is in fact a new, improved scuttle-bug. The ability to store sandwiches was a modification I made especially for you. Do forgive my little deception, Fergus, dear boy, but I had to get our friend here on board the Betty-Jeanne to have a snoop round. Let's see what it discovered.’

  Fergus looked down. At their feet was a large sheet of blank paper spread out on the gallery floor. Uncle Theo clicked his fingers and the scuttle-bug buzzed into life, scuttling furiously backwards and forwards over the paper, ink from its underside making lines and patterns, seemingly at random.

  Slowly, as Fergus watched, the lines began to join up and a map emerged in front of him – a map, Fergus realized as the scuttle-bug finished and scuttled over to stand beside them, of the Emerald Sea and its islands, all intricately detailed and neatly annotated.

  ‘This,’ said Uncle Theo, proudly, ‘is an exact copy of the sea chart the scuttle-bug found in Captain Claw's study.’ His brows furrowed. ‘It was the map your father made on his first voyage to the Emerald Sea — and that black-hearted rogue Claw stole it from him.’

  Fergus shook his head. It was no more than he would have expected from Captain Claw.

  Looking down, Fergus saw the curved outline of Horseshoe Island by hi
s left foot, with the words palm trees and coral reef clearly marked. Next to that, Magnet Island, home to the macadacchio trees; then a whole sweep of islands, with names like Starfish, Teapot, Doughnut and Fat Rabbit. They formed the curling tail of the Scorpion Archipelago, and ended in the pointed sting that was Fire Isle.

  ‘Fire Isle,’ said Uncle Theo, following Fergus's gaze. ‘The only place in the whole wide world where you'll find …’ Uncle Theo rummaged in his jacket pocket. ‘One of these.’

  Fergus looked up to see his uncle pull a jewel the size of a gull's egg from his pocket and hold it up to the light, where it dazzled and flashed as if lit up from within.

  ‘A fire diamond!’ Fergus gasped.

  ‘The very same,’ said Uncle Theo. ‘Your father risked his life to get this one on his first trip, and was determined to go back for more.’ Uncle Theo pointed to Fire Isle. ‘He mapped the location of the fire caverns, as you can see.’

  There, at the centre, was the volcano – and down near the bottom the fire caverns were clearly marked. But what really caught Fergus's attention were the four squiggly lines which led from the underground caverns to the outside of the volcano. They each had a name, he saw, his heart leaping into his mouth. The Glory Hole, The Big Dipper, The Corkscrew and The Devil's Pot.

  f anyone, that rainy afternoon in Montmorency Gardens, had been watching from just behind the statue of the Laughing Goat, in the farthest corner amid the brambles and holly bushes, they would have witnessed a most extraordinary sight.