Captain Cat and the Umbrella Kid: The Greed of Goldfever & the Sardines of Suspicion

By Paul Shaw

THE GREED OF GOLDFEVER:
Captain Cat and the Umbrella Kid go for gold!! From a strawberry farm infested with North American Apache Attack snails; to hanging from a zeppelin high above Maxburg City; to a tropical isle guarded by Giant Robot Crabs, the Tremendous Two have no time to catch their breaths, let alone hold them. Someones made all the gold in the Lockstock Stockade Gold Depository smell Absolutely Stinky. But is this only the First Step in a pongy plot to plunder the gold vaults? Who can be behind it? Sultry saboteur Dinah Myte? Evil mad scientist Dr von Feendkraven? Surely it cant be Eddie Goldfever the world famous rock star? Join the Captain and the Kid as they tackle head-on the all-consuming Greed of Goldfever!

THE SARDINES OF SUSPICION:
Captain Cats penthouse HQ is flooded and pumped full of piranha!! A seemingly unprovoked attack by gross gangster Fish-Face. But this is only a pulse-pounding prelude. Greater perils awaitBeneath the dark, placid waters of the Squidd Sardine Farm something stirs. An enormous sardine-guzzling sea-serpent! But surely such things dont exist? Captain Cat and the Umbrella Kid investigate *and discover Mystery upon Mystery. Who is the sinister man in black weaving a Tibetan ghost-trap around the lake? Who is the face-swapping traitor behind all the sabotage at the Sardine Farm? Diving-bells are attacked, Ye Olde Country Tea-Roomes are machine-gunned, and assorted heroes are sucked up by giant vacuum-cleaners before one thing is finally made clear: the Sardines of Suspicion cast their sinister shadow over everyone, and No One Can Be Trusted * not even Captain Cat!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: May 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499004229

Paul Shaw

Author bio coming soon

Book preview

THR GREED OF GOLDFEVER

01

It’s amazing what you can see from Captain Cat’s penthouse balcony atop the thirteenth tallest building in the world. On this particular Tuesday afternoon, approx. 4:03 pm, Captain Cat spied through his Swizz Maxi-viz binoculars not a red-eyed oxpecker, which he had been looking for¹, but a pirate galleon sailing through the centre of Maxburg City.

The old-time, three-masted sailing ship, complete with crow’s nest, top gallants and cannons, lumbered on massive caterpillar tracks up Kiddmeknott Street, a block or so from the Captain’s HQ. Cars, delivery vans, taxis, all were violently shoved aside, their drivers startled out of their wits by a ship’s prow with a sinister, shark-toothed mermaid figurehead bearing down at them. And there was many a small economy-fuelled family hatchback left floundering in the galleon’s wake. A police patrol car bravely attempted to halt the ship’s steady, remorseless progress by parking across its bow, only for it to be crushed beneath the great, clanking caterpillar tracks, the police officers abandoning ship in record time.

At first you might think the pirate ship had been blown off course. What could Kiddmeknott Street possibly offer to those of a piratical bent? There was the ornate and imposing Maxburg Opera House on one side, and on the other one or two fancy restaurants, a shoe shop, a florist’s and, oh, of course! DuDoily’s Diamond Dealers, the city’s most exclusive and expensive jeweller’s. And it was next to this latter establishment that the pirate ship heaved alongside and let off a furious broadside of cannon fire. Fortunately, at first sight of the tell-tale skull-and-crossbones flag, the diamond merchants had hurriedly let down their security-shutters and most of the cannon balls rebounded onto the street.

It was this violent, noisy commotion which disturbed Billy the Umbrella Kid’s attempts to perfect the violent, noisy commotion that is the Hog Bog Holler ‘n Wallow on his banjo and brought him popping out onto the balcony like a cuckoo out of a clock. He was just in time to see Captain Cat toss aside his binoculars, swiftly mount the balcony railing and leap off into Oblivion.

Through the binoculars the Captain had observed a familiar, blue-coated figure with a blue broad-brimmed, blue-feather-plumed hat strutting the ship’s quarterdeck and looking not unlike an exotic bird himself: ex-year 5 teacher and notorious modern day pirate, the Blue Buccaneer². However, it was the observation that his amphibious pirate vessel had parked on a double-yellow line that had finally stimulated Captain Cat into action. (He was a stickler for traffic regulations, and in his book many a Super Villain grew from such small seed as parking infringements.)

Billy took one look over the balcony, recognized a pirate ship in a no-pirate-ship zone, and dashed back inside. He almost instantly reappeared, having exchanged his banjo for a large, striped umbrella, with another umbrella slotted into a bandolier. And without further ado, he tumbled over the railing in pursuit of his Boss.

As Billy plummeted, twisting and turning, he hoped he’d snatched up the correct Mini-Helicopter umbrella before undertaking this reckless action. If he’d grabbed Umbrella No. 158, the Super Secret Conversation Recording umbrella, he might be in for a bit of trouble . . .

Meanwhile Captain Cat was free-falling down the gleaming glass-front of the thirteenth tallest building in the world, arms pressed to his sides, eyes narrowed against the up-rush of cold nothingness, tarantula-proof black cloak streaming behind him—and then there came a persistent miaow-miaow-miaow.

Before any members of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals reading this gets upset, I can categorically reassure them there were no endangered cats secreted on the Captain’s person. Rather, the Captain rolled over onto his back and extracted his Captain Cat Fab-50 Feline-Online Compact Communicator.

Captain Cat speaking, he informed the device. "Oh, it’s you Mrs Steelstern… No, I cannot speak to a prospective client… Who? The manager of Bloggs’ Best Strawberry Jam? Impact with the ground imminent, I hardly think a discussion about strawberry jam is appropriate right now… Make an appointment. I’ll see him tomorrow morning . . ."

He stowed away the mobile phone (or Captain Cat Fab 50 Feline-Online Compact Communicator, which, you must admit, sounds much more impressive) and gave a cheerful wave to Billy, who, several hundred meters above, was descending in a much less dangerous fashion. He had brought his Mini-Helicopter umbrella after all, no doubt much to the relief of members of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children who may also be reading, and who may have been distraught at the prospect of a squashed boy Super Hero.

Captain Cat wasn’t equipped with a mini-helicopter umbrella (or for that matter a Secret Conversation Recording umbrella). He had no need of such devices to aide him in his reckless sky-dive. He instead activated his special cloak, fusing its molecules, its folds stiffening so that it resembled a hang-glider’s wings.

The pirate in the crow’s nest didn’t see Captain Cat swooping down upon him like some cat-masked bird of ill omen. At least, not until it was too late. Then again, the eye patch and voluminous black beard (false) probably didn’t help. But before he could swing round his Ripperbang 88 sub-machine-gun, Captain Cat’s boots struck home and down he went.

Switching off his cloak, the Captain sprang nimbly into the rigging, severed a line with a cat-claw and swung just as nimbly to the deck below. If Captain Cat’s swashbuckling boots made a sound as they hit the deck, it wasn’t heard on account of the pirates manning the deck cannons firing off another volley. This time the cannonballs blasted through the Diamond Dealers’ shutters. Alarm bells began sounding their protests in the most strident tintinnabulation possible. And a thick, choking blue smoke poured out of the ruptures.

If the pirates didn’t hear the Captain, neither did they see him. Like their fellow in the crow’s-nest, they were kitted out in identical eye patches and bushy black beards (false). The Blue Buccaneer liked his henchmen to look the part, and obviously got his pirate costumes in bulk from the same cheap costumier’s.

Captain Cat was like a hunting jaguar, and had picked off a pirate or three before the others realized he was in their midst. But before he had could get a full swag of them, the Blue Buccaneer up on the quarterdeck spoiled things. He wasn’t encumbered with either eye-patch or false beard and so had all his faculties unimpaired.

Avast there, me hearties! he bellowed. A gold doubloon to the sea-dog who splits Captain Cat in two!

The five or six remaining pirates whirled around. Those getting into the spirit of the thing drew cutlasses. Those not so enamoured with the authentic old-time pirate-life brandished semi-automatics.

Then, with a clatter-chatter of whirling helicopter blades, the Umbrella Kid put in an appearance. He shoved out both his legs and his bullet-proof, shark-proof, not to mention solidly cobbled Super Hero boots collided with assorted pirate skulls, and down went two pirates like skittles, their guns skidding across the deck into the scuppers.

The Blue Buccaneer leaned over the quarterdeck railing, grimacing with his (quite startling when you come to think of it) bright blue face at the Captain and the Kid, now back to back, the Kid feeling as if he were in the midst of some wildly overgrown shrubbery thanks to the masses of encircling black beards (false).

‘A rollicking band of pirates we, who tired of tossing on the sea, are trying their hand at a burglaree!’ the one time school teacher bellowed. Look up the definition of ‘rollicking’, and copy out that rhyme 25 times and have it on my desk tomorrow morning. You haven’t a sea-breeze of a chance of thwarting me, not the Blue Buccaneer, the Terror of the High Seas! And now, my lily-livered cut-throats, he went on, transferring his bellow to his piratical crew, let’s see the colour of Captain Cat’s gizzards! And keel-haul that scurvy Kid!

With a roar, the pirates sprang forward, waving their cutlasses, not too mention knives and various other sharpened instruments ideal for chopping carrots or Captain Cats, whichever took their fancy

Billy, not liking the prospect of being keel-hauled (sounded like it might hurt a bit), tossed aside his Mini-Helicopter umbrella and whipped out his spare umbrella. Divested of its silken coating, it was revealed to be a sword-stick umbrella. The Captain had taught Billy the art of fencing, and Billy was now something of a dab hand at ripostes and thrusts and parries. And, since the Captain was a stickler for the full and correct use of words, Billy could also put up a not-too-bad picket fence too. Bit out of practice with his wire-and-post sheep fences, though.

A ju-ju-zapsu grab, pinch and twist enabled the Captain to acquire a sword from a pirate, who retired, sucking sore fingers. And, thus armed, the Captain was soon fighting off assorted other pirates. It was whilst thus engaged that there came again the miaow-miaow-miaow of his mobile phone. Holding off the pirates with one hand, sword flickering like forked lightning, his back to the mizzen mast, he reached for the phone with his otherwise not engaged hand.

Mrs S.? I am a little busy right now… Another client wants to see me first thing tomorrow? . . . The CEO of the Lockstock Stockade Gold Depository? He’s watching me on the TV news right now and thinks I’m the best man to help him? The Captain glanced upwards. Hovering above the ship was a Channel 22 News helicopter. Despite the swirling blue smoke, the cameraman was getting some great footage of Captain Cat In Action. Captain Cat twisted slightly to one side, so that they could get his right profile (his best, in his opinion). Make an appointment. I’ll see him tomorrow. Goodbye.

Captain Cat apologized to the pirates for the interruption and pressed home his attack. It wasn’t too much longer, however, before he and the Kid had all the pirates (who hadn’t received sword-fighting and fencing lessons from Captain Cat) disarmed, not too mention flat-out on the deck in various states of bruised and battered unconsciousness. Thankfully there were no members of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Pirates about, so both Billy’s and the Captain’s consciences were clear in this matter.

Billy stooped over one of the poleaxed pirates and peeled off his beard (false). That look’s like Hank ‘Sniffles’ Styles, he said, recognizing the mug behind the face fungus. And that telltale snotty hankie clutched in his left hand clinches it.

He’s merely a common or garden henchman, Captain Cat said dismissively, pivoting on his heels and, hand over eyes, trying to peer through the ever-thickening pall of blue smoke. As are all these others. Small fry. I’m after a Bigger Fish. The Blue Buccaneer.

He’s no longer on the quarterdeck and the lifeboat hasn’t been launched, Billy observed. Y’know, it’s almost as if this whole day-light attack, this fake blue sea-mist, are a put-on, a show simply to, well, divert us.

Great Hatshepsut’s kittens! Captain Cat exclaimed. Skate’s on, Kid. We’ve not a moment to lose! And the Captain promptly dived down a hatchway and below deck. And no sooner had Billy dived in after him, than the Captain was diving some more, this time through a trapdoor set into the bilge (thankfully dry; Captain Cat hated getting wet) at the bottom of the ship. If the ship had been at sea, an opened trapdoor in this part of the vessel would have spelt disaster. But here, alongside the kerbing of bone-dry Kiddmeknott Street, no such thing was likely to occur.

Billy next found himself underneath the ship. But not for long. The trapdoor opened above a large open manhole, the cover dragged aside. The manhole led down into the Maxburg drainage system. And it was into these dank and occasionally unsavoury depths that the Captain continued diving.

The circular, concrete drain was large enough for the Captain and Billy to move through, even if the very tall Captain was bent almost in half. It would have been pitch dark, too, if not for the fact that the Captain had switched on the illuminated lining of his cloak.

Where’re we goin’? Billy wondered aloud, startling a rat going in the other direction.

The Blue Buccaneer can’t help being the school teacher still, trying to test our knowledge. Remember that line he asked us to copy out? ‘A rollicking band of pirates we, who tired of tossing on the sea, are trying their hand at a burglaree!’ It’s from an operetta in two acts by Gilbert and Sullivan.

They sound like a cartoon show double-act! Billy grinned.

" An operetta called The Pirates of Penzance, the Captain went on. And remember something else the Blue Buccaneer taunted us with: he called himself the Terror of the High Seas—or did he. Maybe he meant the Terror of the High C’s. C as in the musical note, and high Cs as in the notes reached by an opera tenor or soprano."

Hey! cried Billy, startling another rat. D’you know what’s opposite the Diamond Dealers’? The Maxburg Opera House!

"And did you know there’s a festival of Gilbert and Sullivan operas currently being staged there, and that the lead soprano is none other than the famous opera singer Dame Bertha Fowlstringler. Have you heard her in Rossini’s La Gazza Ladra? Exquisite! The Blue Buccaneer’s raid on DuDoily’s was a ruse. His real target is Dame Fowlstringler. He no doubt plans to kidnap her and hold her for ransom. Ah. This looks like our exit."

And Captain Cat promptly sprang up and through a round hole cut into the roof of the drain. Billy scrambled up after him, and found himself in what he presumed was the basement of the Maxburg Opera House; in the shadowy gloom he spotted various stacked stage-props: a winged chariot, Japanese folding-screens, a statue of jackal-headed Egyptian god Anubis, a gondola, stacked, gilded 18th century chairs, a life-sized papier-mâché bull with matador swords sticking out of it, and that’s about all he had time to note before the Captain (switching off his cloak to preserve its batteries) whisked him off up a flight of stairs.

Captain Cat was drawn unerringly towards the unmistakable sounds of a famous, large-lung-ed opera soprano being forcibly bundled into a large pirate’s treasure chest. That’s what confronted him and Billy upon throwing open a gold-starred dressing-room door. Billy had only a moment to register a room chock-a-block with rich, elaborate dresses, a wide selection of wigs, numerous mirrors and a virtual florist’s shop of bouquets and bunches of roses, before his attention was arrested by the Blue Buccaneer caught in the very act of kidnapping an opera star.

Not much could be seen of the unfortunate, violently struggling Bertha Fowlstringler as she had been well and truly stuffed inside a large pirate’s sea-chest by now, and the Blue Buccaneer was sitting on the lid, trying to keep it down so he could clasp the lock together.

A study has shown that 97.6% of Super Villains, when unexpectedly confronted by Captain Cat (who is a past master at Unexpected Confrontations), experience a subconscious, reflex action to produce some sort of weapon and try and kill Captain Cat with it. The Blue Buccaneer was no exception to this study’s disheartening conclusion, and he produced a cocked flintlock pistol.

But before he could fire it, the Umbrella Kid’s own subconscious reflex action (to avoid being killed in the crossfire resulting from Super Villains trying to kill Captain Cat) clicked into gear. He hurled his umbrella swordstick and the blade whipped the Super Villain’s hat off and pinned it, quivering, to a wall calendar. It was a sheer fluke that the date struck was the 9th, which so happened to be Captain Cat’s favourite number.

Nice throw, said Captain Cat, leaping past Billy.

I was aimin’ for his gun, Billy muttered.

The Blue Buccaneer never saw Captain Cat move. All he knew was that in one second Captain Cat was in the doorway, 2.5 metres away, and the next second Captain Cat had plucked the pistol from his hand, divested him of the Chinese pirate’s dagger in his inside coat pocket, snapped handcuffs around his wrists and had given him a pamphlet extolling the amenities of Hammerstein Prison.

If the Blue Buccaneer intended