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Authors: Chris Mould

BOOK: The Silver Casket
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The Black Swarm
In the days that followed, Stanley found himself spending more time with his newfound friends. Bartley watched him shadow box and showed him tricks and techniques as they sparred playfully. The big man would hold out his hands as Stanley hooked and jabbed into his palms.
“You have a good pair of hands, Stanley.
Quick and precise. You may need them sooner than you think.”
“I know,” said Stanley,“and I will be ready.” But he knew in his heart of hearts that no man on earth was strong enough to defeat the evil spirits of the dead, and he was plotting a way to keep the island safe from the deadly crew that moved toward them.
Meanwhile, Daisy was making herself popular bringing fresh fish to the camp.
“Courtesy of Mr. Grouse, from the lighthouse,” she would say, and she'd hand over a box of sea bream or mackerel. Then she'd hang around all day, playing with the dogs and the children, until Stanley had tired of his training with the mighty Bartley.
Two more days had passed and Stanley knew that what was coming in their direction would
arrive sooner or later. He knew nothing of how far the pirates had traveled, how long they would take, or which way they would come. But still he knew for sure that eventually they would appear, and his anxiety grew and grew until it gave his stomach a twisting, knotted pain.
The very next morning was bleak and black. It was almost as if the sun had not woken, and a misty fog circled the harbor all day. The whole mood of the island seemed to turn, almost as if it knew what was coming.
Black clouds hung heavily over the sea, rolling and rumbling in a brisk wind.
Then, as night was arriving, something poked through the tops of the misty clouds far in the distance. At first it looked like a flock of crows, flapping on the wind. But no. It moved too slowly and steadily.
“Flags,” said Stanley. “They are black pirate flags.” And as he said it he knew he was right, and his heart sank into his belly. “There is only one thing to do, Daisy,” he said calmly.
“And what is that?” said Daisy, staring into his face. “Aren't you terrified?”
“No, Daisy, I am not. I am prepared. At nightfall, I will take the Ibis and be gone. You must cover for me. The ships are close and I must act soon.”
“Let me come with you,” she begged.
“No way.”
“What makes you think you can handle this more than me?” she said angrily, tucking a playful punch into his belly.
“Ooof. All right,” he answered. “If you want to be part of it you can. But it will be the hardest thing you ever did.”
And that was that. In that instant it was decided.
Within five minutes they were feeling their way through the blackness of the tunnel.
When he reached the cupboard, Stanley
grabbed the pike hurriedly.
“Dear oh dear, whatever next,” began the pike. “I was just beginning to get comfortable.”
Daisy climbed into the little wooden boat that had sat in wait for them as it bobbed up and down in the pool of the cave. Stanley handed her the pike and pushed them away from the rocks. When he was soaking wet up to his waist, he jumped in.
“Hold on tight to your slippery friend there, Daisy. We don't want him to end up in the water!” warned Stanley.
“I am sure you are fully aware that I am a freshwater creature,” muttered the pike. “I am far too sophisticated to dwell among the dregs of marine life.”
“You would get on well with my mother,” said Stanley. “It's just a shame you will never make her acquaintance.” He began to row with all his might, pushing them out through the narrow opening onto the ocean surf. They were around the other side of the island now, away from the onslaught of piracy.
A full moon was pouring light across the harbor, and the mischievous pair readied themselves in their trusty boat. But Stanley soon found he was no oarsman. He couldn't control the boat, no matter how he tried.
“You take hold of our friend here,” said Daisy,“and I'll do the rowing. I don't think you've found your sea legs yet,” she joked. She took the oars from him and immediately the ride became sure and steady. Stanley
watched her rowing: despite the rough water, she made it seem effortless. And for someone quite small she was surprisingly strong.
“Where are we heading?” asked Daisy.
“To the north side of the island,”' said Stanley. “To where the Yellow Jack is heading with its sickly crew.”
“Stanley, what on earth are you thinking of? We are supposed to be avoiding them, not joining them!” Daisy panicked. Suddenly the boat was carried along on the crest of a wave, and Daisy fought hard to keep them from crashing against the rocks.
Daisy panted, pulling harder on the oars as the little boat bobbed up and down on the swell.
Then, as they cleared the rocks and came out into the deep, they saw ships heading toward them from the other direction.
“Row, Daisy!” cried Stanley. “Row for your life!”
“I'm trying,” she gasped, as the drag of the water yanked at her arms.
Stanley had not planned on a choppy sea. The harbor had seemed relatively calm, but here on the other side of the island they were struggling to steady the boat. White froth rushed up the sides and the splashes of water were icy cold.
Before too long, the shape of Crampton Rock was growing smaller as they steered away from the island and the pirate ships.
Darkness and endless water surrounded the little boat. On board, the two small warriors and their fish headed fearlessly into the unknown.
To the pike, Stanley announced something that he knew would not be popular.
“I'm going to take the Ibis from you,” he said.
“I had a feeling this was coming, and I fear that you are making a wrong move, Stanley,”
the pike returned. “I think perhaps there is a better way.
“I don't think you have a better way,” said Stanley. “Firstly, you have no idea what my plan is and secondly, if you do and there is an easier solution I'd like to know what it is.”
“I'm thinking!” insisted the pike, and he closed his mouth tightly so that Stanley had no chance of retrieving the Ibis.
“This is no time for games,” said Stanley, who felt a growing frustration. “Open wide, please.”
But the mouth stayed shut and the eyes glared at him.
“Very well,” said Stanley, thinking quickly. “If you refuse to cooperate, then I shall have no option but to place you in the salt water among the sea life.”
“Yes, and I hear the tiger sharks are particularly
hungry at this time of year,” suggested Daisy. She still wasn't entirely sure of Stanley's plan, but nonetheless she was prepared to see it through.
The pike's eyes seemed set even wider as Stanley lifted him up and dangled him by his tail. The Ibis rolled to the front of his mouth and finally he allowed it to drop into the bottom of the boat.
“Thank you,” said Stanley. He didn't want to upset the pike, but time was of the essence. He retrieved the Ibis from the boat and slipped it neatly inside a square of cloth.
They rounded a cliff face, and suddenly a blackened shape hung over them. A filthy silhouette of sheer evil swayed on the surf.
Voices bellowed out, and the torn and ragged shapes of sails flapped noisily in the gust.

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