Atticus Claw Hears a Roar Page 8

  That was true, thought the Ambassador. Without the map (which the Tuckers showed no sign of giving up) they couldn’t navigate their way to the treasure. Ribena was right for once: it would be better to be shot of the Tuckers altogether. ‘Very well, Ribena,’ he agreed, ‘a dawn raid on The Jolly Jellyfish it shall be. If anyone asks what happened to the Tuckers when we get back, we’ll say they got eaten by the flying piranha fish.’

  ‘Thank you, Benjamin.’ Ribena grinned at him toothily.

  ‘You are most welcome, my dear,’ Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel said in his most lordly voice. He glanced out of the window. It was getting dark. ‘Now, let’s batten down the hatches and tell your parents to prepare for the raid.’

  A few days after his discovery of the incriminating photo in the Tofflys’ caravan, Atticus found himself in Nicaragua with the party of rescuers. The group consisted of Atticus, Mimi (whom Aisha had agreed could join them), the Cheddars, Professor Verry-Clever and Nellie Smellie (who had insisted on coming along ‘just in case they needed a bit of knitting doing’).

  Atticus didn’t think they’d need any knitting doing. It was boiling hot in the jungle. Luckily his fur acted as an insulator in both directions: when it was cold it kept him warm, and when it was hot it kept him cool. As long as he stayed in the shade, he’d be fine.

  This time there had been no problem about him joining the expedition. Her Majesty the Queen had spoken personally to the Nicaraguan president. It turned out that Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel hadn’t even mentioned the discovery of Howard Toffly’s journal to their government, let alone discussed mounting an expedition to find the lost treasure of the jaguar gods. The whole ‘security’ issue surrounding Atticus’s involvement had been a sham just to keep Atticus and the Cheddars out of things. Everyone agreed it was because Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel, Ribena and the Tofflys were planning to steal the lost treasure of the jaguar gods for themselves, except Professor Verry-Clever who thought his former student might just want to claim all the glory for himself because he’d always been a bit of a big-head.

  Either way Atticus had been given clearance at the highest level. A warrant had also been issued for the arrest of the villains.

  ‘You’ll find everything on board you need.’ The Commander of the Nicaraguan army had come to see them off. He spoke perfect English with a lilting Central American accent.

  Atticus meowed his approval. The Nicaraguan government had supplied them with an attack-proof amphibious assault vehicle to keep out the deadly river creatures. At least he and Mimi didn’t have to worry about mini tarantula-bats getting in their fur.

  ‘What does this do?’ Michael pointed to a big red lever.

  ‘It transforms the vehicle from a boat into a tank,’ the Commander said. ‘When you get to the waterfall you can cut across land and find another way down to the valley without going over the fall.’

  Even cooler! thought Atticus. He’d been worrying about the waterfall. He didn’t like getting wet and they didn’t have a parachute, like Mr Tucker did.

  ‘How do we get out of the valley?’ asked Michael.

  ‘You’ll have to carry on downstream until you get to the sea. I warn you though, that part of the jungle is still completely unchartered, even by Howard Toffly. We won’t be able to pick up any signal from you until you reach the river mouth. But don’t worry; you have plenty of supplies. And the vehicle is equipped with powerful headlights so you can travel at night. Good luck.’ The Commander returned to his jeep and sped off.

  Mrs Cheddar took the controls. ‘Which way, Professor?’ she asked, switching on the engine.

  ‘According to Howard Toffly, the valley of the jaguar gods is here.’ Professor Verry-Clever had brought a copy of Howard Toffly’s papers with him. He spread out the photocopied map to show Mrs Cheddar.

  It was the first time Atticus had seen the map properly. The river had lots of tributaries, which zigzagged across the page. It also showed the places where the river creatures had attacked The Pink Dolphin.

  Professor Verry-Clever set the co-ordinates using the ship’s compass and off they went along the brown, muddy river into the jungle.

  It was Atticus’s turn to feel like an ancient Mayan setting off on a great journey. He had been to a rainforest once before on a different adventure, but it was nothing compared to this. The jungle was magnificent. The trees stretched up as far as he could see, their leaves spreading in a great green canopy high above them in the sky. Vines as thick as snakes twisted their way up the tree trunks and hung from branches like ropes. The forest floor was a sea of lush vegetation with leaves as big as soup plates and huge colourful flowers that thrust their petals towards the light.

  But it was the noise that struck Atticus the most. It was like listening to music played by an orchestra made up entirely of animals. He could hear birds calling, monkeys chattering, insects buzzing, crickets chirping, even the beat of wings. The only thing he couldn’t hear was a jaguar’s roar; but the jaguars would be wary of a party of humans – at least that’s what Mrs Tucker had said.

  The amphibious vehicle zipped along. They were travelling much faster than Howard Toffly would have done in The Pink Dolphin. Atticus felt his spirits lift. Maybe they would be able to reach the Tuckers before the Tofflys struck!

  Mimi was sitting on the front deck with Callie, Michael and Nellie. Atticus went to join them. The kids were making a scrapbook. They busied themselves by taking photos of the jungle and jotting down notes about the plants and animals they could see through the binoculars.

  Nellie, meanwhile, was hunched over her knitting. Clickedy-clickedy-click!

  ‘What’s Nellie knitting this time?’ Atticus asked Mimi. It looked like an enormous pair of pants.

  ‘Some frog-proof bloomers,’ Mimi said.

  ‘Oh.’ Atticus wished he hadn’t asked. He eyed Nellie warily. So far since they’d arrived in Nicaragua she hadn’t actually tried anything witchy with him, but he had the sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t be long before she did. ‘What’s she doing here anyway?’ he complained to Mimi. ‘We don’t need any knitting doing. It’s about thirty degrees in the shade.’

  ‘I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.’

  Atticus felt grumpy. It was all very well Mimi saying that, but she wasn’t the one Nellie was trying to recruit as her familiar! He decided to adopt an attitude of lofty indifference by turning his back on Nellie and cleaning his whiskers.

  Inspector Cheddar came and sat down. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘the jungle! Makes you think of Tarzan.’ He let out a blood-curdling cry. ‘Ah-a-ah-a-ah-a-ah-a-ah!’

  There was a huge commotion amongst the forest animals. Callie and Michael giggled. Atticus put his hands over his ears. He looked blankly at Mimi. ‘Who’s Tarzan?’

  ‘He was a character in a book,’ she told him. ‘He was brought up in the jungle by apes and learnt to live like they do. He used that cry to summon the apes.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Atticus. Judging by the racket going on in the treetops, Inspector Cheddar seemed to have summoned just about everything, including a troop of woolly monkeys, which were swinging merrily after them through the branches, chattering raucously.

  Just then they rounded a bend in the river.

  ‘Mum! Stop!’ Callie shouted.

  Atticus’s ears drooped. On the bank, marooned in the mud was The Jolly Jellyfish.

  Mrs Cheddar slowed the amphibious vehicle down to a chug and directed it towards the bank. She flipped the big red switch to the TANK setting, drove it out of the water on to the mud and stopped a few metres from the stranded vessel.

  ‘AHOY THERE!’ Inspector Cheddar had brought a megaphone with him.

  There was no answer from the boat. Atticus’s tail twitched in concern. The Jolly Jellyfish had a thoroughly deserted air about it.

  ‘COMING ABOARD!’ Inspector Cheddar shouted through the megaphone. ‘AH-A-AH-A-AH-A-AH-A-AH!’

  Inspector Cheddar’s cry was answered by an even louder commotion from the ani
mals. The treetops shook with life. More woolly monkeys joined the crowd that had already gathered. Atticus wished Inspector Cheddar would shut up. Some of them didn’t look that friendly!

  The kids helped Mrs Cheddar lower the gangplank between the two vessels to make a bridge across the muddy bank. ‘Stay here and look after Nellie and the Professor; just in case it’s an ambush,’ Atticus told Mimi.

  Mimi nodded. ‘Okay. Be careful.’

  Atticus scampered across the gangplank after Mrs Cheddar and the kids.

  ‘Thomas?’ he meowed. ‘Bones?’

  It was no good. The Jolly Jellyfish had been abandoned. But there was still plenty of crashing going on above them. Atticus raised his head. The troop of brown woolly monkeys peered down at him from the jungle canopy. To his surprise one of them grabbed hold of a vine and flew towards him. It landed on the deck of The Jolly Jellyfish with a thud.

  Atticus blinked. It wasn’t a monkey at all. It was Mrs Tucker! She was wearing the brown woolly-monkey onesie that Nellie had knitted her! He sighed. Maybe he’d been wrong about them not needing Nellie’s knitting. It had obviously come in useful for the Tuckers.

  ‘Mrs Tucker!’ the kids cried.

  Mrs Tucker put her fingers in her mouth and gave a sharp whistle. ‘Bones!’ she called. ‘Thomas!’

  The two cats hurtled through the trees and landed at her feet.

  Mrs Tucker threw back the hood of her onesie. ‘Thank goodness you’re here,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I could have stood another day grooming Mr Tucker’s beard-jumper. Now give me a hand to get him down. We’ll have to use the bucket.’

  ‘What happened?’ Callie asked when Mr Tucker had been safely lowered from the trees on to the deck of The Jolly Jellyfish.

  ‘We were raided,’ Mrs Tucker said grimly.

  ‘By the Tofflys?’ Michael guessed.

  ‘How did you know?’ asked Mrs Tucker.

  ‘Atticus found a photograph in the Tofflys’ caravan of Ribena and Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel’s wedding,’ Mrs Cheddar explained. ‘We worked it out from there.’

  Thomas trotted over to Atticus and rolled over playfully. ‘Don’t you think it was clever of me to find the magpie feathers?’

  ‘Of course it was!’ Atticus purred gruffly. He was happy to see Thomas. Jungle life seemed to be suiting the kitten. He was as playful and cheeky as ever. ‘You are a great detective. Like me!’

  Thomas looked pleased.

  ‘Although it was very naughty of you to stow away,’ Atticus added sternly. He didn’t want Thomas thinking he could get away with anything.

  ‘That beastly parrot, Pam, is in on it too,’ Mrs Tucker was saying. ‘She’s Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel’s pet.’

  Atticus’s ears pricked up. Pam! He hadn’t expected that. He didn’t think Jimmy Magpie would have done, either. That must have been a nasty surprise for the magpie boss.

  ‘But she got squashed by a large pig,’ Michael objected.

  ‘Well, she’s not squashed now,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘She’s enormous. I don’t know what they did to her in Her Majesty’s Prison for Bad Birds but she’s almost as large as a pig herself. And take it from me; she’s very gassy with it. That bird makes Mr Tucker’s fart powder smell like a bunch of roses.’ She shook her head ruefully. ‘I should have realised something was up. Thomas tried to tell me.’

  ‘Aye, youze should have sniffed it out, Edna, what with yoouuurr training as a secret agent,’ Mr Tucker remarked.

  Atticus didn’t think it was very fair of Mr Tucker to blame Mrs Tucker. Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel had fooled everyone, except himself, Mimi and Thomas of course! But then cats were much cleverer than humans at working things out.

  ‘Yes, all right, Herman,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘There’s no need to go on about it. Anyway, on the second morning at dawn – a few days ago now – the whole beastly lot of them mounted an attack on us. At first we thought it was the deadly river creatures, but then we realised it was the Tofflys, Ribena, the Ambassador and those blasted birds. They rammed us with The Toffly Treasure Hunter, came aboard armed with pistols and chased us off the boat into the jungle.’

  ‘I’s come across some bloodthirsty pirates befoorrrre,’ Mr Tucker said darkly, ‘but I’s never seen anything like them Tofflys when they’re on the attack.’

  ‘What happened then?’ asked Michael.

  ‘We waited until The Toffly Treasure Hunter had left,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘We thought we might be able to sail back upriver in The Jolly Jellyfish and raise the alarm. But when we returned we found they had taken Howard Toffly’s journal, the map and most of our supplies.’

  ‘The greedy gizzards took me giant parachute,’ Mr Tucker growled. ‘And me basher and me smasher and me squasher and me mini tarantula-bat repellent. The only thing they left was me faart powder and me beard-jumper shampoo.’

  ‘That wasn’t quite all, Herman,’ Mrs Tucker corrected. ‘Luckily they left the woolly-monkey suits too.’ She continued the story. ‘So there we were – at the mercy of the river creatures when night fell, with no means of defending ourselves and no food or water. That’s when we realised the woolly monkeys were watching us. I thought maybe Nellie had foreseen that something like this might happen, which is why she knitted the onesies for us, so we slipped into them and waited. And sure enough, after a little while the monkeys came to the rescue.’

  Atticus looked up. The monkeys were still there. A group of brown woolly faces stared at him curiously.

  ‘They were very kind,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘They looked after us. They showed us how to swing through the trees and sleep in the treetops and forage for food.’

  ‘Nice swinging, by the way,’ Atticus said to Thomas. ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Thomas said. ‘It’s all about balance. The monkeys use their tails, just like we do, except theirs are stronger. I’ll show you if you like.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Atticus said cautiously. He wasn’t keen on heights but he didn’t want to sound like a wimp in front of Thomas.

  ‘That’s so cool!’ Callie said. ‘I wish I could learn how to swing through the trees.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s very easy when you get the hang of it.’ Inspector Cheddar was bustling about pretending to do something.

  ‘It’s not that easy,’ Mrs Tucker said.

  ‘Especially if youze got a wooden leg,’ Mr Tucker agreed. ‘The monkeys had to give me a piggy back.’

  ‘What did you eat?’ asked Michael.

  ‘Fruit mostly,’ Mrs Tucker said.

  ‘And bugs,’ Mr Tucker added. ‘I think I’s got some in me pockets.’ He pulled out three enormous wriggling millipedes. He popped one in his mouth.

  ‘Eeerrrrgggh!’ said Callie.

  ‘They’s not that bad,’ Mr Tucker said. ‘Although they’s keep getting stuck in me dentures.’ He took his teeth out to show everyone. Bits of black millipede shell and quite a lot of legs nestled in the gums.

  ‘It sounds like a real-life Tarzan adventure,’ Callie said enviously.

  ‘Ah-a-ah-a-ah-a-ah-a-ah!’ Inspector Cheddar yelled.

  The woolly monkeys shrieked back at him. One of them – a huge male – shook his fist at Inspector Cheddar and let out a tremendous scream.

  ‘I’d back off if I were you,’ Mrs Tucker told the Inspector. ‘That’s the leader. He thinks you’re challenging him to a fight. He’ll probably bite your head off. Now, let’s get after those crooks. We’ll take the amphibious vehicle.’

  ‘What about me boat?’ Mr Tucker sobbed.

  ‘Get over it, Herman. There’s a job to do. Bring what you can!’

  A grumbling Mr Tucker thrust the fart powder and the beard-jumper shampoo in his pockets along with the millipedes.

  ‘Hurry!’

  Atticus glanced at the horizon. They had lost track of the time while they were talking. Dusk was gathering fast. The sun was sinking like a stone. The woolly monkeys had fallen silent and the river was an inky black.

  Any minute now, the deadly rive
r creatures would attack.

  ‘I’ll go first,’ Inspector Cheddar said importantly. He leant over the rail of The Jolly Jellyfish and scratched his head. ‘Hmm, I wonder where those logs came from?’

  Atticus felt his hackles rise. There hadn’t been any logs there when they’d crossed the gangplank to The Jolly Jellyfish: only mud. He pawed anxiously at Mrs Tucker.

  ‘Oh, my giddy aunt!’ she said. ‘It’s the crocodiles. They must have sneaked up on us while we were talking. Stand back, everyone!’

  ‘Are you sure they’re crocodiles?’ Inspector Cheddar squinted down. ‘They look like logs to me.’ At that second the crinkled black snout of a huge crocodile thrust its way up between the boat’s rails. SNAP! The crocodile twisted its head and snapped its jaws at Inspector Cheddar. Inspector Cheddar fainted. He toppled head first towards the mud. Mrs Tucker made a grab for his ankles. Somehow she managed to drag him to safety, away from the snapping crocodiles. ‘Stay away from the edge of the boat!’ she cried.

  ‘What are we going to do, Mum?’ Callie said in a small voice.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Mrs Cheddar said. ‘We’ll think of something.’ She glanced at Atticus despairingly.

  Atticus purred his understanding. The kids were in danger. It was his responsibility as the world’s most cat-tastic cat to protect them. They had to get back across the gangplank to the amphibious vehicle before the other river creatures attacked. The Tofflys had taken all the bashing and smashing equipment but there was still something they could use to scare away the crocodiles. He dashed over to Mr Tucker, raised himself on to his hind legs and pawed at his pocket. (He didn’t actually want to put his paw into Mr Tucker’s pocket in case he got slimed by a millipede!)

  ‘Me faaarrrrt powder!’ Mr Tucker cried. ‘Good thinking, Atticus! That’ll give ’em a pong in the snout.’ Mr Tucker lay down on his tummy and wormed his way towards the rails. He raised the fart powder in his hand. Just then another crocodile snout appeared. This time the crocodile snapped at Mr Tucker. SCHWIP! ‘It’s after me beardjumper!’ he cried, wriggling backwards. ‘I’s can’t get close enough.’