Anton and Cecil, Book 2 Read Free

accordion under the stars with the ship running fast beneath them, listening to the shanties in a crowded, smoky room was not the same. Still, it was better than nothing, so he slipped behind the customary loose wallboard and settled himself on his barrel behind the door. A glow warmed his chest as the patrons’ chatter subsided and a tall, young sailor stood up to lead the singing. Anton knew for once, or thought he did, what the chatter was about. The wrecked ship hauled in that morning was the talk of the town. Humans and cats and probably even the mice had found it a sad and unnerving sight. Anton hadn’t seen it yet, but Billy had told him about it when he stopped to chat with him earlier.
    â€œWhen you see something like that, you know you and your brother were the lucky ones,” Billy said, and this struck Anton as true. To have been stranded on one ship and then rescued by another that happened across them on the great, wide ocean was lucky indeed.
    But there were many kinds of luck. Theirs had felt sometimes like a special sort, the kind that might not be wise to push. Anton tried to enjoy the singing, but his mind kept returning to the message from Hieronymus and the shipwreck, arriving so close together. It felt like a sign, but a sign of what, he couldn’t guess.
    The singing gave way to an argument between two bearded sailors. Anton slipped out of the saloon and headed home to the lighthouse. After a nap, he decided to have a look at the wrecked ship. As the early morning light brightened the sky, Anton rounded the quay and spotted Billy, Cecil, and that silly kitten Clive, who idolized Cecil, lounging in the shelter of the harbormaster’s doorway, where they could survey the wharf without being seen.
    â€œHas the lad been out here all night?” Anton asked Cecil as he approached.
    â€œHe’s better out here in the fresh air than where you’ve been keeping yourself,” replied Cecil. “I can smell the saloon on your coat.”
    â€œIt wasn’t so great in there,” Anton agreed. “I thought I’d have a look at this wreck everyone’s so agog about.”
    Billy pulled himself up with his customary huff. “It’s a cautionary sight,” he warned. “There was not even a mouse survived on her.”
    â€œDon’t scare him,” Cecil said to Billy. “He’s got enough caution already.”
    As they ambled down the wharf to the storm-battered wreck, Anton considered Cecil’s remark. It irked him, as he was well capable of taking risks if there was a good reason. Hieronymus was a good enough reason, though he was sure Cecil would disagree.
    The three cats stood gazing at the broken spars, the smashed bowsprit, and the tattered bits of sail hanging from the yardarm. “Not even a mouse,” Anton repeated. Then, as the sun pushed up over the horizon and cast a golden sheen across the deck of the ruined ship, the brothers both glimpsed a slight movement and burst into laughter. A solitary little mouse came running shakily down the line from the ship. With a wild leap, he skittered past them toward the shelter of the warehouses. As he passed, Cecil put out a paw and took in a breath, but Anton chided him. “Let him go. He’s the sole survivor.”
    Cecil chuckled. “Probably the last of his clan.”
    The brothers leaned toward each other and bumped shoulders. That was how Hieronymus described himself—the last of his clan—and Anton hoped Cecil was remembering, as he himself was, how after losing his entire family the mouse had saved Anton’s life by slowly, tirelessly chewing through a water barrel on a derelict ship.
    â€œShall we go find him?” Cecil asked.
    â€œI wish we had more to go on.”
    â€œWe’ll be the first cats in history taking travel tips from rodents.”
    â€œBut you’re willing?” Anton asked.
    Cecil shrugged. “I’m curious about these