Free Atticus Claw Goes Ashore by Jennifer Gray Page A

way through the gloomy jungle. The trees were full of the shrieks and cackles of animals. The mournful cry of unseen birds echoed from high up in the canopy of dense leaves.
    Atticus felt his hackles rise. He had the uncomfortable feeling they were being watched.
    His sharp ears caught a whisper of movement behind him. He turned round quickly, just in time to catch a glimpse of a dark shadow slipping away into the undergrowth. He couldn’t tell what it was. An animal of some sort, definitely. But whether it was a snake, or a mongoose, or even a panther, he couldn’t say. He waited for a moment but the animal didn’t reappear.
    Reluctantly he padded on after the others.
    After a little while they came to a clearing.
    ‘It’s still here,’ Mr Tucker said in a satisfied voice. ‘I’s thought so.’
    In the middle of the clearing Atticus was amazed to see a small log cabin. Flowers grewout of the turf roof and the walls were decorated with bright candy-coloured shells. It looked welcoming in the gathering dusk.
    ‘That’s so cool!’ Michael cried.
    ‘It’s like the witch’s cottage in
Hansel and Gretel
!’ Even Callie was smiling at the sight of the little wooden house. ‘Except it’s covered in shells, not sweets!’
    ‘That’s exactly how Fishhook described it!’ Mr Tucker exclaimed. ‘Like the cottage in
Hansel and Gretel
. He loved stories, did Fishhook.’
    Atticus thought he might like Fishhook Frank. He loved stories too.
    ‘Me and Fishhook, we’s made it before we set out to look for the mermaid together,’ Mr Tucker said proudly. ‘Nice and snug it is. Come and look inside.’
    ‘Maybe Fishhook left the map here!’ Callie exclaimed excitedly. ‘Let’s go and see.’ She raced up to the door and opened it. Her face fell.
    Atticus wondered what was the matter. He chased after her and looked in. His heart sank.
    The little cabin had been ransacked.
    The pirates had beaten them to it.

12
    Inside the cabin smashed plates lay in jagged pieces. The straw mattresses had been torn into clumps and the coarse linen sheets shredded into ribbons. Wooden boxes full of supplies spilled what remained of their contents on to the floor. A thin covering of feathers lay like a dusting of snow over the chaos: two pillows had been slashed with a knife and emptied over the rest.
    There was no sign of a map.
    ‘It looks like someone got here before we did,’ Mrs Tucker said grimly. ‘Black Beard-Jumper and his men, I’m guessing. What do you say, Herman?’
    Mr Tucker nodded dismally.
    ‘They’ve taken it!’ Callie said despondently. ‘I was right, we’ll never find the mermaid.’

    This time Mrs Tucker didn’t correct her.
    Michael looked downcast.
    Atticus thought fast. Just because Black Beard-Jumper’s men had turned the place over didn’t mean they had found what they were looking for. Atticus forgot about the gathering darkness and the jungle that lay between them and the relative safety of the ship and tried to think like a detective.
    Inspector Cheddar had once told him the best way to find clues at a crime scene was to imagine that you were the criminal. (That had been a lot easier for Atticus than for Inspector Cheddar because Atticus had actually once
been
a criminal.) Maybe, considered Atticus, it was the same for pirates.
If I were Fishhook Frank
he thought
and I was trying to hide something, what would I do?
    He frowned. Something that Callie had said a minute ago nagged at him. He tried to remember.
The witch’s cottage from Hansel and Gretel
. That was it! And according to Mr Tucker, Fishhook Frank had called it that too.
    Atticus had seen the story in Callie’s big storybook. The first time Hansel and Gretel were abandoned in the woods they left a trail of stones in the wood for their father to find them. The second time they left a trail of breadcrumbs, which the birds ate. Fishhook Frank liked stories. Maybe he’d had the same idea. Maybe he’d left a trail leading to the