Drake’s Island
In which the Box of Distractions is opened...
One moment there was only black water. The next Drake’s Island emerged from the dark.
@Swashbuckled brought the galleon in far closer to the cliffs than anybody except the capybaras wanted. Ahead, barely visible in the dark, old algae-covered stairs ascended from the sea.
“Too exposed,” said Octavia.
How exactly are we getting ashore then?” said @AngleofRepose. “Because those steps look fatal.”
@Thehorticulturalhussie peered upward. “There’ll be another access point. But we'll need ropes.”
From just above the crow's nest, a grappling hook suddenly whipped through the darkness and caught neatly around an upper section of ruined parapet.
Everybody looked up.
Barely visible against the stars, a figure in a waxed coat and riding breeches was sitting comfortably in the rigging with a longbow across her knees while Batshit quivered beside her with excitement.
Hedgehog stared upwards. “Oh for heaven’s sake.”
The archer adjusted the rope slightly. “Hussie, we’re going in above the embrasures.”
Batshit barked ecstatically into the darkness below.
“You brought a toxophilist?” said Octavia.
“I brought @AuntieMsDamsonCrumble,” said Swashbuckled. “The toxophily was included at no extra charge.”
Nobody asked how long AuntieDamsonCrumble had been aboard. Nobody genuinely wanted the answer.
“The Kettlewell incident,” murmured Hedgehog darkly.
Nobody elaborated. Somewhere below deck the Box of Distractions gave another ominous thump.
AuntieDamsonCrumble swung lightly out from the rigging and caught the rope with both hands. For one alarming moment she was hanging completely over black water between ship and cliff. Then she hooked one leg over the line and began pulling herself across it through the darkness.
“Well,” said Angle faintly. “That’s one way in.”
Hussie shoved the leather roll of lock picks through her belt, seized the rope and followed after her.
Above the sea, the two figures moved steadily towards the ruined parapet hand over hand, boots and knees gripping the taut line whenever it shifted beneath them.
Batshit was beside herself.
Minutes passed. Then, high above the water, a torch flashed twice and vanished.
A short time later Octavia and @EdithStourton pulled the boat alongside the narrow landing beneath the stone arch, while Brains jumped ashore and began staring suspiciously into the darkness.
“I must admit,” said Hedgehog as Octavia looped the line once around the iron ring, took a second turn to absorb the strain, then finished it with two quick half hitches pulled tight, “I had assumed you merely owned shipping.”
“I may once have worked as a deckhand out of Rio,” said Octavia.
Angle clutched the Box of Distractions and stepped out of the boat.
AuntieDamsonCrumble and Hussie were waiting above the waterline beside a narrow opening in the rock.
“We’ve got a way in,” said Hussie and she squeezed through the gap.
Suddenly wide tunnels opened out beneath the island. Inside, boxes were stacked everywhere.
Fuel drums.
Coils of rope.
Temporary worktables scattered with shipping labels and paperwork.
“This is not abandoned,” murmured Hedgehog.
Brains surged ahead of them, claws skittering sharply across the concrete floor, then stopped dead beside a heavy steel door. Hussie grabbed the handle.
The room beyond was brightly lit and stacked almost to the ceiling with packing crates. Packing ice was melting slowly across the concrete floor. The smell hit them instantly.
Calamari.
“Kevin,” said Angle faintly.
A handful of sunflower seeds lay scattered in the doorway. Beneath one crate, part of a torn seed packet showed traces of gold leaf lettering:
Vesp—
G—
Mon—
Hel—
“Vesper Gold Monastery Helianthus,” said Hedgehog, “the most expensive black sunflower seeds known to gerbils…”
The Box of Distractions shifted violently in Angle’s arms.
Brains barked sharply and spun away from the calamari store entirely, disappearing into a side corridor that led deeper under the island.
The corridor narrowed sharply as it descended. At the end of the passage stood another steel door. This one had a bolt across the outside.
Brains was already scratching furiously at the bottom of it.
From behind the door came Gosie’s unmistakable voice, “Brains?”
“Oh thank goodness,” said Edith.
“Stand back,” said Hussie. The bolt screeched loudly as she dragged it sideways. Too loudly. Somewhere deeper inside the tunnels a door slammed and heavy footsteps could be heard running towards them.
Everybody froze.
Another shout echoed through the corridors. The footsteps sounded closer.
Angle looked down at the violently trembling Box of Distractions. “I think the time is now,” she said, and she opened the lid, stepping backwards very quickly.
For one terrible moment nothing happened. Then dozens of half-awake gerbils exploded out into the tunnels like champagne corks.
One gerbil vanished immediately into the darkness carrying a radio twice her own size. Another disappeared up a cable duct. Still another hurled sunflower seeds directly into the air.
They heard crashing, swearing, running feet, and industrial machinery starting unexpectedly. A siren began rotating uselessly somewhere underground.
Somewhere nearby a man yelled, “WHY ARE THERE SO MANY OF THEM?"
Tiny voices shrieked through the darkness.
“THIS WAY!”
“NO, THIS WAY!”
“VIVE LA RÉVOLUTION!”
Then a gerbil triumphantly screamed, “I FOUND A LEVER!”
Everything went black.
The steel door burst open.
Gosie stared at all of them for one completely stunned second. Then at the chaos behind them. Then at the gerbils stampeding through the tunnels carrying string, cutlery, sunflower seeds and at least one clipboard.
Octavia seized Gosie’s paw.
“Run.”
https://myrtlelion.substack.com/p/drakes-island