rattle of paper as Rasmussen began to look through the big book she had found.
âDo you think thatâs really the Grand Sumbaroon we keep hearing on the Examinator?â asked Stanley. âItâs never let me hear anyone but Mother before.â
âDonât know â it could be. But it could be a dastardly trick of some kind. Whatever it is, itâs one of the two important things we need to get to the bottom of.â
âWhatâs the other?â said Stanley.
âThis biscuit barrel. Have a Mustard Cream.â
âErr, no thanks. What else is there?â
Rasmussen delved deeper.
âSalted Milk, Indigestives, Farty Rings, Witch Tea, spare door key â¦â
âYuk,â said Stanley. âGrown-ups like weird biscuits.â
âYup,â said Rasmussen. âLook here â the Great Brown Greasy Rococo River.â
She was poring over a page in the atlas. Stanley, absent-mindedly taking a Dead Fly biscuit from the barrel, leaned over to look. He saw a great double-page spread of a beautifully coloured map, hand drawn and covered in the notes and scribbles of a number of previous owners. Here and there were little inscriptions such as âHere Be Dragonsâ, which some stickler had struck through and replaced with âThere are dragons hereâ. Elsewhere were equally worrying labels such as âThe Lost City of El Bravadoâ. Most of the page was coloured dark green, and labelled âThe Uncharted Forestâ. Through it ran the wide brown ribbon of the Rococo River.
âThis,â said Rasmussen, âis more useful than a doormat.â
âYes,â agreed Stanley. âUnless you want to wipe your feet.â
Rasmussen gave him a Look.
âItâs got the sea on it too,â said Stanley. âLook, we must be here.â
He pointed to a line on the map that said âThe Dumpsâ in a curly script. Underneath it in bolder writing: âHere Goes Nothingâ.
âI think the Captain would like to see this!â said Rasmussen. âBut weâre stuck in here, at the whim of Skyman Abel, unable to get to him, with no way out and no idea where he is! What are we to do?â
âUse the Squeaking Tube to find out where the Captain is, then unlock the door with the spare key from the biscuit barrel, and go and see him to save our good names?â said Stanley.
âOh, okay,â said Rasmussen, holding up a little brown stick. âI always say that stopping for a biscuit is the best way to get things done. Chocolate Toe?â
Up in the crowâs nest, Cloudier was looking at the world. The sea was still mirror-calm. Above the Galloon was a cloudless sky. Beside her, the Captain was scanning the horizon with his long brass telescope.
âHmmm,â he said. âIâm disappointed, Cloudier. I felt sure that with the sea this calm, weâd be able to see the Sumbaroon if she broke surface anywhere between here and Horizon Island. Maybe sheâs better at staying under than we thought.â
Cloudier was disappointed too. With a hand over her brows, she squinted pointlessly all around.
âWhat next then, Captain?â she said.
âWell, I wonder,â said the Captain. âUnhook the tube, would ye, and hail the towing party?â
âIâm not sure how to âhailâ anything â¦â said Cloudier, feeling young and ignorant.
âOh, by Cripes, Iâm sorry. âHailâ in this instance just means âtalk toâ. I donât know why I didnât say that in the first place.â The Captain smiled at her and went back to scanning the horizon.
âErr ⦠crowâs nest to towing party?â said Cloudier, uncertainly, into the cone.
Immediately a distant voice came back up the tube.
âTowing party standing by, sir. All boats fully manned and womanned. Skyman Kollick reporting.â
âOh, er hello, Mr Kollick. Howâs