Batten Down the Hatches Chapter Seven

Instructions

(CW: Strong Emotions, Mentions of War: Ship’s Log. Spring 44. Early Morning. Breadstick. Hey. It’s me again. Breadstick. No one wrote in the Ship’s Log yesterday since Splinter refused to, saying it was too much writing. I didn’t yell at her because there’s already too much going on, and anyways nothing worth nothing happened yesterday. The searches for Cap’n came back empty-pawed. None of us are panicking anymore—we’re just guessing she went back to the mainland to get supplies or something. Nothing happened yesterday. Well, except for one thing. A boat from the Catpital arrived in the early hours of dawn. Splinter immediately made a flimsy excuse about needing another walk on the beach. Once again, Tatters went with her. On the boat was a messenger. The kingdoms of cats and dogs are going to war again. They asked if any of us were willing to enlist in the navy. All of us said no. They understood (after all, they need as much of us here as possible for the inevitable evacuation) but said they would ask again today to see if anyone changed their minds. The Catpital boat is currently docked at the pier, filled with fancy nobles and whatnot. Splinter is refusing to leave Mackerel’s house in case her parents are on the point. (It has NOTHING to do with my parents! I merely don’t want to be seen, fur-for-brains! - Splinter) She just snatched the pen out of my paw and wrote that in anger. I won’t scratch it off, out of respect for her. Poor Splinter’s been through a lot—NO, Splinter, do NOT take it out of my paw again. This is the truth and you can’t add another note! Clear? Or I’ll tell everyone what you wrote in the Ship’s Log the day before yesterday! Splinter just grumbled and slouched in the couch even more, once again chewing biscuits like a dog chewing bones. I’m gonna explain what Crayfish and Tatters did today morning for the sake of Splinter’s sanity. Both of them said there was “routine checking” to be done on all the rooms in the schooner. One of the nicest dock workers, Zostera (but we call her Zee sometimes) made some very official-looking documents and gave them to Crayfish and Tatters on two clipboards. Tatters narrated the whole of what happened (which wasn’t very much) to me afterwards. “Okay, Crayfish,” he whispered. “You take belowdecks, I’ll take above. Objective?” “Check for Splinter’s parents,” nodded Crayfish, her eyes now orange. We all know how Splinter’s parents look—the mom an almost perfect copy of their kid and the dad an orange-and-white tabby, both wearing the King’s Court red. “If we find ‘em, we tell Splinter. If we don’t find them . . .” “We still tell Splinter. Now go!” And so Tatters searched above and Crayfish took below. They didn’t find Splinter’s parents—or any King’s Court cats for that matter. The only odd things that happened was that one of the soldiers kept growling at random moments, but the others simply said he had WAY too much catnip. Catnip is a strange herb. Makes a cat act really weird if you have too much of it. I rolled my eyes when Tatters told me about that soldier since soldiers are supposed to be utterly sober all the time. That’s what happened on the boat. The door is opening. OH! It’s Galleon. He’s got tears on his face again, but he’s furiously wiping them—Oh! Oh, no! Oh, no, no, no, NO! Galleon has come to give us some news. Here is what he has just said. “Guys! It’s horrible! It’s—OH! Tatters is joining the navy!” Tatters, our goofy, happy first mate, is going to WAR.