Read Online Peter and the Starcatchers by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson - Free Book Online Page A

listeners. “He sees what?”
    “A rat,” said the storytel er. “A flying rat.”
    “You mean it was jumping? ’Cause I’ve seen ’em jump as far as …”
    “No,” said the storytel er. “John says it was flying.”
    “That’s the bump on his head talking,” said one.
    “I dunno. It ain’t like John to imagine things.”
    “Wel I don’t believe it. I’ve sailed with rats for thirty years, and they don’t fly.”
    “I think it’s true,” said a new voice, from a big man with a big wart on his nose—the sailor Peter had seen acting strange around the mysterious cargo on the first day. He looked around at the group. “I believe John,” he said.
    “Why’s that, Alf?”
    “Because the rat was in the room with that trunk. I touched that trunk, the day we set sail. There’s something strange about it.”
    “Strange is one thing, Alf. Flying rats is another.”
    “But I’m tel ing you, I felt it,” said Alf. “I felt something, I dunno, magic. I felt like …” Alf looked around, hesitant.
    “Like what, Alf?”
    “Like … like I could fly,” said Alf.
    There was a pause, and then the crowd erupted in laughter.
    “Sure, Alf, you could fly!”
    “You’re a regular bluebird, Alf!”
    “Look out,” said somebody. “Slank’s coming.”
    The sailors, stil chuckling, quickly dispersed, leaving Alf, red-faced, staring at his feet. Peter hesitated, then approached the big man and tugged at his sleeve. Alf looked down at him.
    “What is it, boy?” he said.
    “I believe it, too,” said Peter. “About the rat.”
    Alf frowned. “Why?” he said.
    Peter hesitated, then said, “Because I saw it.”
    Alf bent over, his face now close to Peter’s.
    “You saw it, boy? You was down there?”
    Peter nodded.
    “Did you see anything else?” said Alf. “Did you happen to see what’s in the trunk?”
    “No, sir,” said Peter.
    Alf studied him, then spoke softly. “But you want to,” he said. “You want to know what’s in there.” Peter nodded again.
    “Me too, boy,” said Alf. “Me too.”

CHAPTER 10
BLACK STACHE CLOSES IN

    B LACK STACHE HEARD THE SHARP WHISTLE pierce the night air—sounding like a gul’s hungry cry—and lifted his head to see his lookout wave from the crow’s nest.
    We’re in range.
    Stache banged the butt end of his sword on deck twice— thump, thump. Instantly, the eight long oars sticking out from the cannon bays lifted from the sea in unison, dripping water, and withdrew into the ship’s hul . The crew, desperate now for water as wel as treasure, had been hard at it ’round the clock for almost two days straight, working both the sails and oars, reading the winds perfectly, closing the gap on the Wasp. Now they were ready for the final run.
    She’s mine.
    Black Stache thumped his sword three more times to summon his officers, then retreated below to his cabin, taking a seat at a table covered with navigational charts. Also on the table were two smal , delicate models of sailing ships, one painted a shiny black like the Wasp, the other a replica of the Sea Devil.

    There was a tentative tap at the door.
    “Come in,” growled Black Stache. Smee entered and gagged; the cabin smel ed like a dead cow. This was because there were, in fact, several pieces of dead cow on Black Stache’s bunk, as wel as the half-eaten carcass of a turkey. Gnawed remnants of other meals littered the floor. Flies buzzed everywhere. Smee held his hand over his nose, trying to be discreet about it.
    “You cal ed, Cap’n?” he said, his voice muffled.
    “It’s time,” said Stache, staring at the model ships. “The moment is at hand.”
    “Yes, sir,” said Smee, turning, desperate to escape the eye-watering stench. “I’l just go up and tel the—”
    “Wait, ” said Black Stache. “I want to go over the final plan with you and Storey.”
    As Smee reluctantly turned back, there was a second knock, and Storey, the Sea Devil’ s crew chief, entered. He fel back,