Attack of the Giant Sea Spiders Read online

  For the Dread Captains Tristan and Daniel – GPJ

  To Zac and Anya, my harshest critics! – FAD

  Dedication

  Meet the Steampunk Pirates

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Of all the alehouses in Barbary Bay, The Slurring Mariner was the most dangerous, dirty and downright disgusting. Mrs Smellgrove’s ale was strong, dark and served with a dead rat floating in it.1 Her rock-hard pies had more chance of escaping unharmed than the customers who dared eat them. But the four metallic men who stood at the bar had no interest in beer or food.

  “Four tankards of your crudest oil, if you’d be so kind, landlady,” said Captain Clockheart.

  “Just water for me, actually,” said Quartermaster Lexi.

  Some landladies would have been confused by this unusual order, but Mrs Smellgrove simply poured out the three tankards of unrefined oil and one glass of extremely murky-looking water. Quartermaster Lexi paid her and the Steampunk Pirates took their drinks.

  “What brings you here to Barbary Bay tonight then, gents?” she asked.

  “Click, to trade. Tick, looted goods. Tock, for gold,” said First Mate Mainspring.

  Captain Clockheart downed his oil and slammed the empty tankard back on the bar. The clock in the middle of his chest ticked loudly and steam gushed from his ears.

  “Trading goods, eh?” said Mrs Smellgrove.

  “Yes,” Captain Clockheart replied. “We picked up some valuable items on our last few raids. We’re here to exchange them for gold and coal.”

  “Why gold and coal?” asked the landlady, mopping up some dribbles of oil with a grubby cloth.

  “We want gold to replace our rusting iron parts.” The word-wheel in Quartermaster Lexi’s head spun round as he spoke. “Coal is fuel, energy … food.”

  “Aye, lassie. Gold for our parts, coal for our hearts,” agreed Gadge.

  “Click, not all of us care for coal,” said Mainspring. “Tick, I run on clockwork.”

  “Don’t we know it, you overgrown pocket watch!” said Gadge.

  “Tock, what did you call me?”

  Mainspring was reaching for his cutlass when the whole alehouse fell silent. A black-bearded man entered. He wore a large three-cornered hat with two small holes cut into the material, as though he had a pair of eyes on top of his head. He glanced around the bar, brandished his cutlass and shouted, “Good news, you washed-up sea dogs! Old Inkybeard and Nancy are recruiting again. If you want adventure and riches, step forward now and join us.”

  “Join you?” shouted one drinker. “I heard you set fire to your last ship.”

  “It wasn’t even yours to sink,” said another.

  “And your crew was still on board when it went down,” said a third man.

  “Now, Nancy, don’t listen to the nasty men.” The pirate removed his hat to reveal a squid sitting on his head, with its tentacles wrapped around his neck and shoulders. “For those of you who are unfamiliar with my wife, this is Nancy.”

  The squid blinked.

  “Evening, Inkybeard,” said Mrs Smellgrove. “A bowl of mussels for Nancy, is it?”

  “That’d be smashing, Mrs Smellgrove,” he replied. “But it’s the Dread Captain Inkybeard, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh yes, of course. Sorry,” said Mrs Smellgrove.

  “Hey, laddie, why have you got a squid on your head?” asked Gadge.

  Inkybeard caressed a tentacle draped over his right shoulder. “Old Nancy’s black ink helps keep my beard from going grey, don’t it, girl? Now, we don’t need to ask who you are. The ocean is awash with rumours of you metallic marauders. What will they think of next, Nancy?” Inkybeard walked around the Steampunk Pirates, inspecting them carefully. He reached out to touch the spinning wheel on Lexi’s head. “What’s this for, then?”

  “My word-wheel allows me to access information,” replied Lexi. The wheel spun round and Inkybeard quickly withdrew his finger. “The Dread Captain Inkybeard,” said Lexi. “Wanted in twelve countries for various crimes, including piracy, pillaging and stealing salmon.”

  “Nancy is partial to a bit of salmon, aren’t you, girl?” said Inkybeard, stroking the squid.

  “Inkybeard also has a reputation for betraying his crew and sinking his own ships,” continued Lexi.

  “You don’t want to believe everything you read. So you’re the brains – there’s no need to ask who’s the brawn.” With the tip of his cutlass, Inkybeard lifted up Gadge’s barrel-like forearm and inspected it. It twisted around and a dagger attachment sprung out. Inkybeard moved away and turned his attention to the key slowly revolving in First Mate Mainspring’s back. “What happens if I wind this up, then?” he asked.

  “Click, give it a try. Tick, and find out,” said Mainspring.

  Captain Clockheart stepped in front of Inkybeard, steam shooting from his head. “I’m the captain and you’ll leave my officers alone, if you know what’s good for you.”

  “It’s one thing to call yourself a captain. It’s another to be one.” Inkybeard waved away the steam gushing from Clockheart’s head and turned back to the others. “If you lot have any sense, you’ll get rid of this bucket of steam and find a real captain for your vessel. As luck would have it, Nancy and I are currently in need of a ship.”

  “You won’t set foot on the Leaky Battery while I have fire in my belly,” said Captain Clockheart.

  “And what if someone was to put out that fire?” threatened Inkybeard.

  “Click, if anything happened to him. Tick, we’d replace him with one of our own,” said Mainspring. “Tock, not a soft skin like you.”

  Inkybeard smiled at First Mate Mainspring. “Ah, is that ambition we detect? Nancy and I like a bit of healthy ambition.”

  “I suggest you walk away now.” Captain Clockheart drew his cutlass and his clock hand whizzed round and round.

  Mrs Smellgrove had seen enough fights break out in her alehouse over the years to know the signs. She threw the filthy dishcloth over the pile of pork pies and took cover behind the bar.

  1 A live rat was available for an extra penny.

  The Leaky Battery was tied to a rotten old signpost at the end of Barbary Bay’s pier.

  The Steampunk Pirates’ ship was not the only vessel tied to the rickety pier, but it was the only one that boasted a steam-powered engine at its heart.

  Pendle the cabin boy paced up and down the pier. She was listening to the sounds from the mainland and trying to pick out the captain’s voice in the hubbub.

  Twitter fluttered down and landed on the railing in front of her.

  “Something to eat! Something to eat!” squawked the mechanical bird.

  “Hello, Twitter.” Pendle held out a broom handle for the bird to nibble. “It’s rosewood, your favourite.”

  Twitter pecked happily at the end of the broom handle and Pendle stroked the feathers glued to his metal body.

  Pendle had created the steam-powered bird back when she was still known as Penelope Fussington and Twitter had always had a thing for rosewood.2

  Twitter swallowed a couple of splinters then hopped along the rail. “No parrots!” he said. “No parrots allowed here!”
r />   “I know. It’s not fair, is it?” said Pendle. “Parrots aren’t allowed and yet the most dangerous pirates in the world are. They’re all armed with swords, cutlasses and pistols and, so long as they pay the harbour master for docking, they can do whatever they want. I don’t like it.”

  The harbour master’s house stood at the other end of the pier. Heavy iron chains hung below a balcony, holding an open treasure chest where visiting pirates placed their docking fees. It was always overflowing with stolen goods and glistening treasure.

  “Where’s everyone else?” asked Twitter.

  “They’re down in the hold,” said Pendle. “Old Tinder is serving up a batch of charcoal. I’m keeping lookout while Blower grabs something to eat.”

  Pendle looked for approaching metal in among the constant stream of ragged pirates arriving and departing. She couldn’t help but worry about Captain Clockheart. He was more than capable of looking after himself, but he didn’t always think things through properly. The loose valve sending steam to his head made him hot-tempered and unpredictable.

  “I wish the captain would hurry up!” Pendle sighed.

  “Back soon!” squawked Twitter. “He’ll be back soon!”

  “I hope you’re right,” said Pendle. “I’ll be glad when we can leave this place.”

  Twitter flapped his wings and went soaring up into the evening sky.

  “I only hope the captain’s not getting into trouble,” Pendle said to herself.

  2 If you’d like to know more about Pendle creating Twitter, the author politely suggests you pick up a copy of The Leaky Battery Sets Sail, the first of the Steampunk Pirates’ adventures.

  As with most fights that broke out in The Slurring Mariner, every hard-knuckled hooligan in the alehouse dropped what they were doing and joined in. Within seconds, three men had jumped on to Gadge’s back. He switched his arm attachment to a hook and pulled them off one by one before flinging them across the bar.

  First Mate Mainspring used his cutlass to fend off a bare-chested man who smelled of beer, fish and feet. The man was strong but every single one of Mainspring’s fight moves was executed with perfect timing.

  On the other side of the room, Lexi took cover under a table next to a stranger with a long ginger beard.

  “Excuse me,” Lexi said. “Would you mind if I shared your hiding spot?”

  “Not at all,” replied the stranger, clinging on to his beard, almost as though he was worried it might get yanked off.

  Captain Clockheart was locked in battle with Inkybeard. The steam-powered pirate swung his curved blade, but Inkybeard blocked it.

  “Nancy and I will teach you a thing or two about being a real pirate.” Inkybeard swished his cutlass then lunged.

  Captain Clockheart parried and leaped on to a chair, which collapsed beneath his weight immediately.

  “Mind my furniture, will you? Wood don’t grow on trees,” yelled Mrs Smellgrove. She threw a pork pie, which bounced off the back of Clockheart’s head.

  Fists, daggers and insults were flying all over the place when a tall man in a blue velvet jacket entered the bar. He had a thin moustache under his pointed nose and held a pistol in his hand. He climbed up on to a table, raised the pistol and fired at the ceiling. The old chandelier came crashing to the ground, sending glass everywhere.

  Silence followed.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Count Defoe.” The man spoke with an accent as strong and French as the batch of smelly cheese that Mrs Smellgrove brought out whenever she wanted to clear the bar. “I am looking for recruits,” he said. “Ambitious men, strong men and, most of all, men who want to be rich.” He pulled out a cloth bag, tossed it into the air then fired at it. The bag split, sending coins raining down, and everyone scrabbled to collect the money.

  “That’s not fair,” grumbled Inkybeard. “He can’t just nab our recruits! We be here first.”

  “I am offering an opportunity of wealth,” answered Count Defoe. “You only offer ze chance of betrayal.” His gaze fell upon the Steampunk Pirates. “Ah, ze buccaneers of metal, you are most welcome to join us.”

  “Click, no thanks,” said First Mate Mainspring. “Tick, we don’t work for soft skins. Tock, no more.”

  Count Defoe waved his hand dismissively. “Ah well. Now, ze rest of you, come with me to a land of opportunity.”

  He climbed down from the table and left, followed by almost everyone else.

  “What about my chandelier?” yelled Mrs Smellgrove, emerging from behind the bar. “What about my customers?”

  The reply came in the form of a small bag of coins, tossed back into the bar. She picked it up, counted its contents and went off to find a broom.

  The King of England had called the Iron Duke and Admiral Fussington for a private meeting. Of the three men standing in the royal chamber, it was difficult to say who was the angriest. The king was angry with the Iron Duke. The duke was angry with Admiral Fussington. The admiral was angry that he didn’t have anyone to be angry with.

  “Four ships!” exclaimed the king, turning the same shade of purple as the curtains. “Four ships at the bottom of the ocean and where are these metal servants of mine?”

  “Actually, it was five ships,” said Admiral Fussington. “They sank four ships when we first trapped them, then another when we trapped them a second time.”

  “Trapped?” screamed the king. “Trapped? Do you even know what the word ‘trapped’ means?”

  The duke glared at Admiral Fussington.

  “And it isn’t just the ships, either,” continued the king. “You lost weapons, expensive equipment and men. Do you have any idea how much your failure has cost so far?”

  “I could make a rough guess, if you like?” suggested the admiral.

  “Do not make a guess,” said the Iron Duke firmly.

  “These steampunk servants of Mr Swift’s have turned out to be the worst birthday present since my father gave me a unicorn,” said the king.

  “A unicorn?” said Admiral Fussington. “That sounds like a wonderful present.”

  “It would have been – but it turned out to be a horse with a broom handle glued to its head.”

  “Your Majesty,” said the Iron Duke, “I have a plan that will bring the Steampunk Pirates to justice. It involves Admiral Fussington, this large ginger beard and a place called Barbary Bay. You see—”

  “Enough.” The king snatched the false beard from the duke and threw it across the room. “Right now we have more pressing problems. That French scoundrel, Commander Didier Le Bone, is on the move.”

  “Ha,” snorted the duke. “If there’s going to be a war with France, then I will defeat Le Bone just as I defeated him before.”

  “Of course there’s going to be a war,” snapped the king. “We have one arranged for next June. Then we’ve got a couple of skirmishes with Spain pencilled in for the following autumn.”

  “Really?” said Admiral Fussington.

  “Oh yes,” the king explained. “Regular wars are good for a country – they keep everyone’s spirits up. The question is not whether there will be a war, but whether the French will play fair. My spies tell me that Le Bone is making secret preparations in a remote American colony. His second in command, Count Defoe, is recruiting men, but the spies have no idea why.”

  “Do you think he’s building an army?” asked the Iron Duke.

  “That’s what I need you to find out.” The king led the duke and the admiral over to a large map and pointed out a part that had been coloured in with the red, white and blue stripes of the French flag. “There has been constant traffic along this coastline, but we don’t know where the ships are going. It’s as though they’re disappearing into an invisible cave.”

  “I see,” said the duke. “And you want us to attack this cave?”

  “You’ll do no such thing. Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying? If you go barging in, you’ll end up starting the war early and we’re not
ready!”

  “The Iron Duke was born ready,” said the duke, puffing out his chest.

  “I don’t care about you,” replied the king. “The European Royal Golf Championships are coming up and I think I stand a chance of winning. I’ve been practising my swing all year.” The king demonstrated and accidentally whacked Admiral Fussington on the nose. “A war would completely ruin it.”

  “So what do you want us to do?” asked the admiral, holding his throbbing nose.

  “I want you to conduct a secret mission … in secret. Find out where these ships are going and what that swine Le Bone is up to – without starting a war. Have you got that?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” said the duke. “I know a way we can discover the information and still capture those Steampunk Pirates. You see, my plan involves Admiral Fussington, this large ginger beard and—”

  “I’m not interested in the hows and whys,” interrupted the king. “Just get on with it.”

  Back in the now-empty tavern, Inkybeard picked up a glass of water and threw it over the squid on his head. “There you go, Nancy my love. Is that better?”

  “There’s no one to protect you now, Inkybeard.” Gadge twisted his arm and produced an iron fist.Captain Clockheart and First Mate Mainspring approached, threateningly.

  “Now come on, lads,” said Inkybeard, with an uncertain smile. “We’re all on the same side. I don’t know who Defoe thinks he is, flashing his cash and coaxing all those men to work for him, doing who knows what… He’s the real enemy – not me.”

  “They never return, either,” said the stranger with the ginger beard, climbing out from under the table.

  “What was that?” asked Captain Clockheart.

  “These men who go with Count Defoe – they never come back.” The stranger scratched his chin as though his beard was bothering him. “I work for the, er … the harbour master here in Barbary Bay.”