Read Online The Great Galloon and the Pirate Queen by Tom Banks - Free Book Online

M­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u-u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u-u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­m­m­m­m­m­m­m­u­u­h­h!’ groaned Stanley. ‘When am I EVER going to use any of that stuff in REAL LIFE!?’
    Nevertheless, he opened his text book, and turned to a new page.
    â€˜Be a good boy, and just listen, dear. Other children are very grateful you know …’ And so began the familiar litany of the lesson. Stanley knew there was no way he could just sneak out, as Mrs Crumplehorn was good friends with Ms Huntley and a number of other crewmembers. His life would not be worth living. His mood was not brightened by Rasmussen beaming widely at him as she left the room, signing at him as she went.
    â€˜I’m going to get a sausage and strawberry sandwich. Enjoy your lesson!’
    She closed the door, and Stanley turned back to the Examinator with a sigh.

    Later that evening, in the Galloon’s warm and cosy canteen, known to all as the mess because of its comfortingly shambolic air, the crew of the Galloon were gathered. There was very little difference in practice between the crew, i.e. those who were involved in flying the great vessel, and the passengers, i.e. those who lived and worked onboard, but didn’t actually pull ropes, consult maps, and so on. But the difference was understood by most, and when the Captain called a meeting, as he had done now, everyone onboard seemed to know whether they should attend or not. So of the thousands of people, animals, creatures, and other things that made a life on the Galloon, a few dozen people were present. Stanley and Rasmussen, though not officially crew, would not miss out on such a thing for all the world, and had doggedly ignored Abel’s remarks about ‘minors loitering about the place’. They were making themselves useful by helping Cook hand out glasses of iced punch. The ovens had all been switched off days ago, but the heat in the little room was oppressive nonetheless.
    The Captain was striding up and down, his second-best hat bumping against the low beams, his brows knitted in concentration.
    â€˜Shall we begin?’ asked the Countess, brightly.
    â€˜Yes, yes, I think so,’ said the Captain. He turned to the assembled throng.
    â€˜So – my brother seems to be heading into the very heart of the Uncharted Forest. I have reason to believe that he does not know what he faces – my maps show that we are almost at the base of a waterfall known as Lethal Force, which his Sumbaroon will be unable to traverse. We have the advantage of flight, and so such obstacles do not concern us. When he next surfaces, he must surely realise that all hope is lost. The question facing us is this – why is he risking so much, when it seems inevitable that he is trapping himself in a corner? And what does he hope to gain from heading this way at all? Why not stay in the open sea, where he can evade us much more easily? And when he surfaces and finds himself trapped, how do we proceed to rescue Isabella?’
    Stanley, munching a slice of melon, realised that, for once, he probably knew more than many of the assembled grown-ups about what they were facing. He raised a paw, intending to tell the small crowd about what he and Rasmussen had heard on the Examinator about the Pirate Queen. But before he could do so, the door to the mess opened a crack.
    â€˜Who’s this? Yes?’ snapped Abel in the direction of the door, irritably. ‘This is a crew-only meeting, I put a sign on the door. Why can’t you just wait a few …’
    He trailed off as a hand appeared in the crack, and pushed the door open further. ‘Hand’ was the word that came to Stanley’s mind, but it was not a hand like any other. It was a great, shaggy, long-fingered thing, with knuckles