The Great Galloon and the Pirate Queen by Tom Banks Page A

and into the little basket.
    â€˜What kind of tea?’ asked Cloudier.
    â€˜Just tea, dear,’ said Ms Huntley. ‘That’s the only kind of tea there is. Anything else is just leaves boiled in water.’
    â€˜Hmmph,’ said Cloudier, although she was secretly relieved.
    The Captain was next. He leapt over the rail, and made the little balloon shimmy and shake.
    â€˜By criminy, but it’s hot, is it not?’ he said, conversationally. Cloudier noticed that he had taken off his greatcoat, and was wearing linen britches. But the hat remained – albeit his second-best hat, his first having been stolen by his brother.
    â€˜It is. And those drums …’ said Cloudier’s mother.
    They all listened for a moment.
    â€˜Thump-a-Dang-BonkBonk. Thump-a-Dang-CLANK Bonk. Thump-a-Dang-BonkBonk.
Pause
Ker-Dang-Bonk Bonk-DerDUNK’ went the drums, as they had been doing ever since the Galloon had crossed the bay.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ said the Captain. ‘They’re insistent, for sure – but they don’t sound like a threat, if you ask me. And besides, what can threaten us up here in the mighty Galloon?’
    Cloudier was surprised to hear the Captain sounding relatively upbeat, but then perhaps he was confident that his bride’s rescue was imminent.
    â€˜Let’s go and see what my dastardly brother is up to now,’ he said, and his face seemed to darken again.
    â€˜I think he must be heading for El Bravado,’ said Ms Huntley, poring over a map as Cloudier began to pump hot air into the balloon above them.
    â€˜Yes,’ said the Captain. ‘The Lost City of Silver. Legend tells of untold treasure just sitting there for the taking – though I suppose you’d need to approach by air to stand a chance of getting there. It’s damn strange, as he’s never shown the least inclination to wealth in the past. He’s no pirate. Its power he craves, it seems, and poor Isabella of course.’
    Cloudier looked at her mother, who rolled her eyes in an almost imperceptible way at the Captain’s tendency to secrecy.
    â€˜Hold tight, we’re off!’ said Cloudier, as the little balloon pulled away from the deck of the Galloon.
    â€˜It’s good to have you onboard, Harissa,’ said the Captain with a smile. Cloudier just had a moment to think this a little strange, before they were away and over the rushing river, watching it plunge hundreds of feet over the cliff edge. The clouds of spray thrown up by the falls were surprisingly refreshing.
    â€˜Take her down!’ cried the Captain over the roar of the falls. ‘How close can we get to the waterfall?’
    â€˜Within safe and sensible boundaries!’ said Ms Huntley. ‘And do not roll your eyes at me, my girl!’
    â€˜Oh, Mother!’ said Cloudier. Calling her mother ‘Mother’ was something she was trying out. She was concerned it made her sound more like an old-fashioned school mistress than a world-weary but cultured young woman, but it was early days yet.
    â€˜Please don’t call me Mother,’ said Ms Huntley. ‘You sound like an old-fashioned school mistress.’
    So that was that.
    They descended away from the Galloon, where Abel was officially now at the helm, though Clamdigger was doing the actual steering. Its size never ceased to astound Cloudier – but she had to concentrate on flying her own little craft. The Captain’s great legs took up a lot of the space in the basket, and her mother was perched on the little bookshelf where Cloudier kept her tiny library. This, along with all the safety equipment Ms Huntley tended to bring along since the small incident when Cloudier flew alone for hundreds of miles across a frozen landscape before landing in a volcano, left very little room for Cloudier to manoeuvre. But she managed to handle the burner, and the little string that controlled their altitude, with one hand.