The Polar Bear Explorers' Club Read online

  ‘Sounds like a fine woman,’ Felix said.

  Professor Smith scowled. ‘A deluded woman, more like. Aside from all his quirks, Benjamin is far too shy to be an explorer.’

  ‘Being shy is a personality trait,’ Felix replied with a touch of reproach. ‘Not a fault.’

  ‘Did you ever hear of a shy man being an explorer, Pearl?’ Professor Smith boomed. ‘Of course you didn’t. The very idea! Shy men twiddle their thumbs indoors.’

  ‘Thumb twiddling!’ Felix exclaimed. ‘That’s number 135 for the list!’

  ‘List?’ Professor Smith snapped. ‘What list?’

  ‘I’m drawing up a numbered list of ways I would rather choose to spend my time than moustache grooming and beard oiling—’ Felix began to explain.

  But Professor Smith shook his head impatiently and said, ‘Felix, please keep to the matter at hand! As I was saying, an explorer must be bold, brave, courageous, redoubtable—’

  ‘Brave and courageous mean the same thing,’ Felix had said with a sigh. ‘And most of the redoubtable people I’ve met have also been insufferable. Quite insufferable, I’m afraid. No, I’m sorry, Benedict, but you’re talking absolute balderdash, you know. A fearless man is far more likely to meet his death on an expedition than a thoughtful, careful one. Beanie is perfectly fine just as he is.’

  Back on the ship, Stella came up on deck to find Beanie stood at the side of the railings, overlooking the icy ocean and holding a butterfly net. He was the same height as Stella, with dark hair that tended to stick out in all directions, as Beanie simply couldn’t stand to have his hair combed. He didn’t like having it cut, either, and was wont to make the most gigantic fuss whenever his uncle dragged him to the barber’s, even when there were jellybean bribes involved. His hair was always clean, though. Beanie rated personal hygiene very highly.

  As Benedict Boscombe Smith had said, there was, indeed, elven blood in Beanie’s family, and you could see this in his slender build, the way that the tips of his ears were slightly pointed, and the fact that his black hair had the odd fleck of blue in it if you looked really closely.

  There were three or four sea butterflies in Beanie’s net, and it seemed as if they had been there for some time, because they all lay forlornly on their sides, their wings trembling slightly. As Stella watched, Beanie raised his free hand, and a glittery golden glow seemed to flow out of his fingertips, surrounding the butterflies. The next moment, they were fluttering about, their salt-tipped green wings sparkling in the sunshine. Beanie opened the net and released them, watching as they flew out across the water, dancing amongst the flecks of foam and sea spray.

  Stella had first become aware of Beanie’s healing ability when they’d attempted to climb the bagel tree in the garden (as the poppy seed ones only grew right at the very top), only for Stella to fall and scrape her elbow. The sight of blood instantly made her feel a little queasy, but Beanie dropped out of the tree beside her, took her arm gently in his hand – the first time he’d ever touched her – and made that warm golden light shine from his fingers. Stella had gasped, delighted by her friend’s magical power and, the next moment, there was no cut on her arm at all.

  ‘Hi, Beanie,’ Stella said, joining him at the rails. She gestured at the butterfly net still clutched in his hand. ‘Will your uncle be terribly cross when he finds them gone?’

  ‘I expect so. But he got the killing jar out this morning,’ her friend replied. ‘I had to do something.’

  Stella was glad that Beanie had saved the butterflies, and she would have liked to give him a hug, only she knew that he would hate it, so instead she gave him a gentle pat on the back and suggested that they build a family of snow penguins up on deck. The sea was as flat as a millpond today, but it had snowed during the night and there was plenty to spare for sculpting penguins.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ Beanie said as they walked across the frozen deck. ‘It’s bound to make the expedition easier.’

  Stella noticed that he’d taken a little wooden carving of a narwhal from his pocket and was fiddling with it anxiously. ‘Oh, you brought Aubrey,’ she said. She wasn’t surprised. Beanie’s father had carved him the narwhal after seeing the strange animals – half seal, half unicorn – on his final expedition to the Black Ice Bridge. The bridge itself was a monstrously huge structure that stretched out over the sea and disappeared into freezing fog. No one knew how it came to be there, or where it led to, although many explorers had attempted to cross it.

  Eight years ago, Beanie’s father had set off on an expedition over the bridge and had not come back. They had never found out what had happened to him, and Stella understood that the not knowing haunted Beanie more than anything. His father had just … gone. And so had the rest of his team. Perhaps they’d frozen on the ice, or run out of food and starved, or been gobbled up by an enormous snow monster, or reached the end of the bridge and found something terrible on the other side.

  The rescue party that went after them discovered the remains of their camp, the tents frozen and abandoned. There was no sign of any of the explorers, although they had found Beanie’s father’s bag, which included the carved narwhal and also his journal. Several of the entries mentioned the fact that he was carving the animal as a gift for his son, Benjamin. It had quickly become Beanie’s most precious possession, and he fiddled with it whenever he was feeling anxious – which was most of the time.

  It probably didn’t help that he knew far too much about the various ways explorers could perish or injure themselves. He’d become a bit obsessed with the topic since his father disappeared. He also, unfortunately, seemed to have an endless ability to recall gruesome facts, figures and numbers. On their first day of school, Beanie had walked right up to Stella and said, ‘You can die from eating too many eels, you know.’

  ‘Oh,’ Stella had said. ‘Can you?’

  Beanie had nodded. ‘Yes. Dr Winston Wallaby Scott from the Ocean Squid Explorers’ Club died thirty-one years ago after feasting on eels at Salty Ridge Harbour. I thought I’d better tell everyone. Mum says being nice to people is how you make friends.’

  Unfortunately, their classmates found Beanie a bit odd. Stella thought he was nice and odd. In fact, Felix said that all the most interesting people had a little oddness about them, one way or another.

  Stella and Beanie found a clear patch of deck, where there weren’t too many sailors stomping about. The snow on the ground was white and crisp and sparkling, so they set to work and soon had a fine-looking family of snow penguins. Stella had just completed a particularly happy looking penguin mum to go with Beanie’s penguin baby when a familiar, cold voice said, ‘What exactly are those things supposed to be?’

  Stella turned and saw Ethan Edward Rook leaning against the rails, watching them. He wore his black Ocean Squid robe and had the same superior expression on his thin face as before. His pale hair was brushed straight back, his collar was pressed and starched, and even here on the ship he looked immaculate. Stella felt the same prickle of dislike she’d felt before, but, remembering her promise to Felix, she said, ‘They’re snow penguins. Do you want to join us?’

  Ethan’s lip curled. ‘Aren’t you a bit old for building snow penguins? They look more like snow lumps, besides.’ He flicked a gloved hand towards Beanie and said, ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘This is my friend, Beanie.’

  ‘You can’t be serious?’ Ethan replied, already curling his lip in disdain. ‘What’s your real name?’

  ‘Benjamin Sampson Smith,’ Beanie said, but the words came out so quietly they were practically snatched away on the wind, and Stella felt obliged to repeat them. Stella could tell Beanie was feeling anxious because he took Aubrey back out from his pocket and started to fiddle with the wooden narwhal.

  ‘I’m Ethan Edward Rook,’ Ethan said, looking pleased with himself. ‘I’m a magician, you know.’

  ‘I like jellybeans,’ Beanie said, desperate to make a contribution to the conversation but not q
uite sure how he ought to go about it.

  Ethan gave him a puzzled look. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

  ‘My cousin, Moira, doesn’t,’ Beanie said. ‘But Stella says that’s just because she’s a snot.’

  Stella had only met Moira once, at Beanie’s last birthday party. He’d optimistically invited the entire class from their school and, as usual, everyone had made excuses, or come up with a sudden change of plans, or else simply didn’t bother to reply to the invitation at all. So when Beanie turned twelve, there were exactly two guests at his party: Stella and Moira. Moira turned her nose up at the jellybean birthday cake, saying it was babyish and Beanie was weird and that she didn’t even want to be there. So Stella called her a snot, and said she and Beanie would eat the cake all by themselves. Which they did, although they both felt a little bit ill afterwards.

  ‘I’ve got some jellybeans somewhere,’ Beanie said, fumbling in the pockets of his grubby cloak. ‘My mum gave them to me before I went.’ He drew out a handful and held them out to Ethan. ‘Would you like some?’

  The magician recoiled. ‘Heavens, no! I don’t know where they’ve been.’

  Beanie looked puzzled. ‘They’ve been in my pocket.’

  Stella was strongly tempted to tell Ethan to go away, but felt she ought to make one last attempt to be nice, whether he wanted her kindness or not. She took a jellybean from the pile in Beanie’s cupped hand and said, ‘We should arrive at the Icelands in another week or so. Are you looking forward to the expedition?’

  Ethan shrugged. ‘What’s there to discover? The Icelands are just ice. They can’t possibly compare with the secrets of the sea. Still, I suppose it will be dangerous enough, what with all the yetis stomping about. There’s a good chance that many of us won’t make it back at all. Even if you manage to escape being eaten by a yeti, many explorers before us have got lost in the snow and starved.’

  Beanie flinched and dropped the remaining jellybeans, which scattered into the snow at his feet. Stella knew he was thinking of his father, lost somewhere out on the Black Ice Bridge. ‘You shouldn’t talk about starving at the start of an expedition,’ he said, nervously. ‘Dad always said it was bad luck.’

  ‘I don’t give two hoots what your father thinks,’ Ethan replied. ‘Magicians don’t care about silly superstitions like that. Don’t you know who you’re talking to?’

  Beanie frowned, even more confused. ‘Ethan Edward Rook,’ he said. ‘The magician. You told us that four and a half minutes ago. Don’t you remember? Perhaps you’ve got a memory problem. That can happen sometimes, although usually not until you’re very old and have to take your teeth out to put them in a little glass by the side of your bed at night.’ He looked at Ethan and said, ‘Do you have to take your teeth out and put them in a glass by the side of your bed at night? Because I might be able to help with that. I’m training to be a medic, you see.’

  ‘Good lord,’ Ethan said, staring. He turned to Stella. ‘Is he an absolute freak, or just a plain idiot?’

  Freak, idiot, weirdo, nutcase … Beanie had been called all of these things and worse at school, and it never failed to make Stella absolutely hot-blood-furious. Beanie was easily the cleverest child in their class – probably in the entire school – as well as one of the kindest people Stella knew. He was just different, and people never failed to say cruel things to him because of it.

  She bent down and picked up the nearest snow penguin. It held together well enough as she straightened up and walked towards Ethan. The expression on her face made the magician feel suddenly alarmed, and he tried to take a step away, but was already pressed up against the side of the boat, the railings digging firmly into his back.

  ‘What are you going to do with that?’ he demanded.

  Stella responded by dumping the snow penguin on his head.

  It broke apart in a most satisfying way, and Ethan yelled as great clumps of ice slid down the back of his collar and soaked his hair. Stella saw, with immense satisfaction, that he didn’t look anywhere near as immaculate with white snow streaking his black robe and icy water running down his face.

  ‘I don’t care what Felix says,’ Stella said, poking him hard in his thin chest. ‘You’re no good, and I don’t like you. If you’re mean to Beanie again I’ll crush you.’

  ‘You’ ll crush me?’ Ethan was almost spluttering with outrage. ‘I’m the magician here. Why, I ought to turn you into a little blind mole-rat right now and toss you straight into the sea!’

  He started to raise his hand and – for a horrible moment – Stella wondered whether he actually would turn her into a mole-rat. She had a terrible vision of herself as a tiny, blind, pink thing, thrashing about in the waves as she watched the ship sail further and further away. Or perhaps he’d mess it up again and turn her into a tiny dancing polar bean, which would almost be worse, really.

  ‘I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never—’ Ethan began.

  ‘Say, this sounds interesting. Can anyone join the lesson?’ a voice asked.

  Stella turned and saw Shay just behind her. It was the first time she’d seen him wearing his blue Polar Bear explorer robes rather than the old shirt and trousers he wore to take care of the wolves. He had four of the expedition wolves with him – three grey ones and a brown one – and they were circling his feet, pressing up close to his legs.

  ‘This has nothing to do with you!’ Ethan said, pointing at him. ‘So get lost, whoever you are.’ One of the wolves instantly bared its teeth at him, and the magician hurriedly lowered his hand.

  ‘Well, well,’ Shay said, looking him up and down. ‘Aren’t you an uppity little prawn?’

  ‘I’m taller than you are!’ Ethan spluttered in outrage. ‘And no one calls me a prawn! I’m not uppity either. I’m going straight to the captain to report a member of the Polar Bear Explorers’ Club for assault!’

  Stella’s heart sank. Felix definitely wouldn’t like that. He wouldn’t like that at all.

  ‘My name, if you care, is Shay Silverton Kipling, and I ought to call for the captain myself.’ Shay reached down to scratch one of the wolves behind the ears. ‘It’s against maritime law to make magical threats against someone at sea, as you must already know.’

  ‘Oh, you lot aren’t worth my time!’ Ethan said before stamping off along the deck, leaving a wet trail of melting snow behind him.

  ‘I didn’t need your help,’ Stella said to Shay, although she wasn’t sure that was entirely true. She really hadn’t wanted to be turned into a mole-rat, after all. ‘But thanks.’

  Shay inclined his head slightly. ‘Any time, Sparky.’

  Stella turned to Beanie to introduce him, but the boy’s attention was firmly fixed on his narwhal and he barely glanced at Shay before mumbling, ‘Hello, I’m Beanie, I like jellybeans and narwhals, and now I’m going back to my cabin to study my medicine books and read about teeth.’ And, with that, he turned and hurried away across the deck.

  ‘Oh dear … he doesn’t mean to be rude,’ Stella said. She really didn’t want Shay to dislike Beanie too. ‘He just finds conversation difficult and needs to be alone sometimes, that’s all.’

  ‘Seems fair,’ Shay said agreeably. ‘Wolves can be like that too. Sometimes they want to be part of the pack, other times they just want to be left in peace. Nothing wrong with that at all.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  On the final day of the voyage, Captain Fitzroy held a farewell dinner for the two explorer clubs in his private quarters. Even the junior members had been invited. The dinner was a tradition for explorers who would have to rely on rations and foraging once they landed on the ice, and was always a lavish spread, laid out on a long table. Felix told her it was the last proper meal she would have for a while, so she should absolutely be as greedy as possible.

  The dinner was a strained affair from the very beginning. The problem was that the Polar Bear Explorers’ Club and the Ocean Squid Explorers’ Club each nurtured a grudge against the other because of the snow shark
expedition, which had taken place many years ago. Both clubs had been competing against each other then too, and there had been accusations of cheating and foul play on both sides. At least one explorer was eaten by a snow shark, and others were seriously wounded on the ice. There had never been any formal apologies offered and the two clubs had been wary of each other ever since, each blaming the other for their losses and casualties, whilst both claiming the credit for discovering the existence of the snow shark.

  The two clubs sat on opposite sides of the table, watching each other warily. The dinner started out politely enough, but it wasn’t long before a quarrel broke out between the Polar Bear zoologist and the Ocean Squid hunter, both of whom wanted to be the first to kill a yeti and take it back as a trophy. It had never been done before, and both were keen to achieve a first for their clubs.

  ‘Isn’t it a little risky to go chasing after a yeti with a spear?’ Felix asked, suddenly joining the conversation. ‘Seems like a guaranteed way to get yourself gobbled up.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect a fairyologist to know about such things,’ the hunter said with a curl of his lip. ‘But I intend to kill it with a rifle, not a spear.’

  ‘You’d never transport it back to the mainland,’ Captain Fitzroy broke in. ‘The average yeti is sixty feet tall. There’s no ship built that can transport a beast of that size.’

  ‘I would cut off its head,’ the zoologist declared. ‘And take that back. There ought to be a yeti specimen at the Polar Bear Explorers’ Club. It’s shameful that there isn’t one there already, quite frankly.’

  ‘I must admit I was surprised not to see any snow goblins or ice fairies,’ spoke a voice from the other end of the table. It was Ethan’s father, the magician Zachary Vincent Rook. ‘We’ve got an entire cabinet of sea fairies on display at the Ocean Squid club. Their wings are pinned like butterflies. We keep the live ones in jars.’ He turned to Felix. ‘Really, I should have thought they’d be easy enough to catch. One doesn’t even require a spear, merely a butterfly net. It’s practically child’s play.’