Crown of the Cowibbean

  Crown of the Cowibbean

  Written and illustrated by Mike Litwin

  Albert Whitman & Company

  Chicago, Illinois

  for Dad

  CONTENTS

  1. The Leaky Tiki

  2. Treasure Trove

  3. All Aboard

  4. The Black Spot

  5. Waterdown

  6. The Tyrant

  7. Lullaby

  8. The Silver Cows

  9. The Tempest

  10. Spidercrab Rock

  11. Crown of the Cowibbean

  12. Some Treasure Hunt

  1

  THE LEAKY TIKI

  Everything seemed peaceful and perfect as usual on the tropical paradise island of Bermooda. But from the east, a bold ocean breeze rushed through the palm trees with a rumble that sounded almost like thunder. It was the type of wind that made a cow’s fur stand on end, as if the breeze itself knew that something exciting was about to happen.

  At the exact same time that breeze bellowed, nine-year-old calf Chuck Porter and his adopted brother Dakota were trotting toward the beach. Mama and Papa Porter said the two of them could camp out on the beach for the weekend as long as they were careful and stayed out of trouble.

  “Let’s look for a place to put up our tent,” Chuck said. He pulled a copy of The Daily Moos, the island’s newspaper, from his camping pack. “The moospaper said the Silver Cow always shows up at sunset.”

  That morning, Chuck had read an article in The Daily Moos about a mysterious silver cow that appeared in the waves…and then vanished without a trace. The moospaper said it was a mirage, but Chuck took it as a sure sign that the beach was haunted. Chuck loved adventure and he insisted they had to investigate right away.

  This was nothing new, of course. Chuck was always on some kind of mission. That’s how he met Dakota. Dakota was not a calf at all, but a hu’man boy in a cow costume. A few months ago, Chuck was exploring a forbidden shipwreck and found Dakota—a lost hu’man boy washed up on a sandbar with no home, no family, and no idea where he was. They became best friends, even though the island legend said hu’mans were extinct, savage monsters. Chuck disguised his new friend’s identity with “cowmouflage”—a cow costume made from coconut shells, a sea sponge, and an old blanket. The Porters adopted Dakota when they learned that he had no family, but they still had no idea that he was a hu’man. No hu’man had ever been on Bermooda before, so Chuck and Dakota decided to keep it a secret.

  The two of them had just found an excellent campsite when Dakota noticed something in the distance.

  “What’s that?” he said, pointing to a ship at the end of the harbor. “I haven’t seen that ship before.”

  Chuck looked up and gasped. “The Swashclucker!” He started off toward the village, still wearing his camping pack. “Come on! We can go listen to Marco Pollo!”

  “Who’s ‘Marky Po-yo’? What about building our tent?” Dakota asked. But Chuck was already charging up the beach and didn’t answer. Dakota rushed to catch up.

  They clomped all the way through the village to the edge of the harbor, with Chuck’s little white cow tail swishing excitedly the whole time. They finally stopped at a small, rickety-looking tavern with bamboo walls and a straw roof. Outside stood a wooden post with a grinning cow’s face carved into it. An orange bandana with white polka dots was tied around its head, and water trickled out from between its enormous teeth. Above the post was a sign that read “The Leaky Tiki.”

  “So who’s Marky Po-yo?” Dakota repeated as he caught his breath.

  “It’s not ‘Marky’. It’s Marco,” Chuck corrected him. “Marco Pollo is the most daring explorer to sail the sea!” he explained, waving his hooves. “The Swashclucker is his ship. Lots of folks have sailed around Bermooda, but no one has sailed as far away as Marco. He’s been to the horizon and beyond! He’s amazing!”

  Chuck opened the squeaky old door to the Leaky Tiki, and they entered a big, warmly lit room filled with tables and chairs. In the middle of the room, a circle of cows gathered around a pint-sized rooster who was perched on a table and chattering wildly.

  This is Marco? Dakota thought as they inched to the front of the crowd. Marco was quite small for someone with such a big reputation. He stood no more than two feet high. His deep maroon captain’s hat was almost as big as he was, with ruffled white trim and a huge yellow plume. He fluttered his feathery wings and squawked excitedly.

  Marco always roosted at the Tiki when he came in from a voyage, filling the tiny pub with colossal tales of adventure starring him and his first mate Ribeye. Even though his stories were very entertaining, almost no one took them seriously. After all, nearly everyone who lived on the island believed Bermooda was the only life in the sea. Everyone but Chuck, of course.

  Chuck couldn’t get enough of Marco’s stories. Whenever he saw the Swashclucker docked in the harbor, he would scurry to the Tiki and listen to Marco cackle on for hours about sea monsters, treasures, and far-off lands. It was the kind of life Chuck could only dream of living. Marco was his hero.

  “So there we were,” Marco clucked, “both of us wrapped up tight in the giant squid’s tentacles. Of course, Ribeye here was helpless to fight.” He motioned behind him to an enormous bull with an eye patch. Ribeye stood with his arms crossed, quietly frowning and shaking his big square head.

  The chicken continued, “I alone, Marco, with my cunning, my prowess, my—”

  “Bull-oney!” mooed a large cow from the back of the crowd. The whole circle of cows laughed. “Pollo, every time you tell that story, that squid gets bigger and bigger.”

  The laughter grew louder as Marco turned red beneath his orange feathers. But the cows’ laughter did not stop Marco. He continued to talk…and talk…and talk. Every once in a while, Ribeye would just shake his head and grunt while rolling his one good eye.

  Chuck and Dakota listened for nearly two hours before remembering they were supposed to be camping. They quietly slipped out of the Tiki as Marco was telling the crowd about the time he cut off the head of a giant sea snake.

  “See? I told you Marco was amazing,” Chuck said.

  “Are you kidding?” Dakota answered, raising an eyebrow. “It all sounds like a bunch of fairy tales to me.” Dakota was not as quick to believe Marco’s epic stories as Chuck was. He thought it was ridiculous enough that they were spending their weekend looking for a silver ghost cow in the ocean, let alone stories about sea snakes and giant squids.

  “They’re not fairy tales!” Chuck snapped back. “Marco is a great explorer and a hero! It’s the truth!”

  “No, this is the truth,” Dakota held up their copy of The Daily Moos. “This is stuff that really happened.”

  Chuck sighed. As a hu’man, Dakota knew just as well as him that there really was a whole other world out there. Shouldn’t he believe Marco more than anyone? Chuck thought to himself. He glanced at the Swashclucker.

  Chuck’s tail began to twitch. “I’ve got an idea!” he said. “I can prove Marco’s stories are true.”

  “How?” Dakota asked nervously. Whenever Chuck had a great idea, it usually ended up getting both of them in trouble.

  Chuck pointed to the Swashclucker. “Let’s go on a treasure hunt.”

  “A treasure hunt?” Dakota echoed. “We’re already on a ghost hunt! What about our camping trip?” Dakota was not as daring as Chuck, and he preferred camping on the beach much more than poking around a ship they didn’t own.

  “We still have plenty of time before sunset,” Chuck assured him as he strolled toward the harbor. “Come on, it’ll be an adventure.”

  I hate adventure, Dakota thought.

  2

  TREASURE TROVE

&n
bsp; The Swashclucker was docked at the very end of the wharf. Marco loved attention, so he always docked where everyone could see his boat. Sneaking on board was going to need a careful plan. Luckily, Chuck was always full of plans.

  “Put this on,” he said as he handed Dakota an orange bandana with white polka dots. “It’s your disguise.”

  “A disguise on top of my cow disguise? This is silly.” Dakota took the bandana from Chuck. “This looks familiar. Isn’t this the bandana from the post outside the Leaky Tiki? Did you steal this?” he gasped.

  “It is from the Leaky Tiki, but I just borrowed it. We’ll bring it back,” Chuck said. “Tie it around your head. All sailors wear bandanas on their heads. Unless you’re the captain. Then you wear a hat.”

  “Is this your plan?” Dakota asked nervously. “What if we get caught?” Marco’s first mate Ribeye looked awfully big and mean, and Dakota didn’t like the idea of making that one-eyed bull any grumpier.

  “We won’t get caught,” Chuck said as he folded their copy of The Daily Moos into a very fine-looking paper hat. “Marco will be busy talking for hours. Besides, we’re not going to take anything. We’re just looking. If anyone asks, just say you’re one of his sailors.”

  “Why do you get to wear a hat?” he asked Chuck.

  “We only have one bandana,” Chuck said, putting on the paper hat. “Plus, it’s my idea, so I get to wear the captain’s hat.”

  They looked out at the wharf. Many cows were milling about, tending to the small boats on either side of the dock.

  “There’s no way this is going to work!” Dakota said in a hushed whisper.

  “Sure it will! Just talk like a sailor,” Chuck whispered back. “Arrrr, matey!” he said in a loud pirate voice as he marched out on the pier. “It sure be a good day for sailin’, aye?”

  “Aye, aye, sir!” Dakota shouted back. “Ummm….Yo ho ho and a bottle of milk!” Dakota’s face turned red under his cow mask. He felt incredibly foolish. Cows all over the harbor watched curiously as the two phony sailors marched by, but no one questioned them. Chuck’s plan was working! They continued their loud parade all the way to the end of the wharf.

  The Swashclucker may have been the biggest ship in the harbor, but that was only because all the other boats were so small. Up close the ship was squat and dumpy. Its sides had been repaired so many times that the patchwork of planks nailed to its sides looked like big wooden bandages. At the top of the mast sat a rickety crow’s nest with a tiny orange flag waving from it. It really wasn’t very fancy. But as far as Chuck was concerned, it was amazing.

  “This is such a bad idea,” Dakota said as they climbed on board the ship’s main deck. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything here but trouble.”

  “Weren’t you listening to Marco’s stories?” Chuck asked. “Even if he’s only done half the stuff he says, this boat should still have treasures all over it! Let’s look for that sea snake’s head he was talking about! I bet it’s in his quarters.”

  They made their way to Marco’s cabin, which looked a lot like a chicken coop. Chuck swung open the door with excitement. He thought the room would be filled with ancient artifacts and mystical objects, glittering jewels and gold coins…maybe the sea snake’s head would even be mounted on the wall!

  But the cabin was not at all what Chuck expected.

  There were no treasures. There were no jewels or prizes or coins. The only golden thing in sight was a warm light that came through the windows, highlighting a globe, a spyglass, and measuring tools on a table in the middle of the room. In the corner was a roosting perch where Marco would stand as he slept. The wall on the right displayed a collection of swords. The wall on the left was covered with maps and charts. It looked like a great place to plan an adventure. But it was no treasure trove.

  “Okay,” said Dakota. “Where’s all the treasure?”

  “Of course someone as smart as Marco Pollo wouldn’t keep his treasures in the first spot everyone would look. What was I thinking? He hid them in a place that’s harder to get to. This boat should have some kind of cargo area, right?” Chuck thought aloud. “A storage place where Marco keeps all his stuff? Let’s look in there.”

  After poking around a bit, Chuck and Dakota found the cargo area in the very bottom of the ship. They climbed down a rope ladder into the room through a hatch in the ship’s deck. It was dark and damp, and they could see very little by the dim light that came in from the open hatch. There wasn’t much to see, anyway. It was mostly just stacked-up barrels of food and supplies.

  Chuck was disappointed and Dakota was not impressed. They both inched a little closer into the darkness, looking for something—anything—interesting.

  “I don’t get it,” Chuck said. “I know those stories have to be true. They just have to be!” He stomped the floor with his hoof. “Some treasure hunt!”

  Just then, they heard a long squeak and a loud thud, and the room went from dim to pitch black. Someone had closed the door to the cargo hold.

  Chuck scrambled up the rope ladder. “Hey! HEEEEYYYYY!!!” he mooed, banging his hoof on the bottom the hatch. But it was no use. The hatch door was thick and heavy, and no one could hear.

  Then the whole room suddenly shook, causing Chuck to fall off the rope ladder. He landed on Dakota with a thud. The floor seemed to move underneath them, rocking back and forth as they tried to stand up on their wobbly legs.

  “Are we…mooooving?” Chuck mooed in a panic.

  “I told you this was a bad idea!” Dakota shouted in the dark.

  3

  ALL ABOARD

  Chuck and Dakota searched for a way to get out of the cargo area as the boat rocked back and forth. Dakota tried his best not to be sick as his stomach flip-flopped from all the swaying.

  Peering up, Chuck noticed a small crack of light slicing through the dark above their heads. “Look!” he said. “Up there! Light!”

  They both climbed onto some barrels to get a closer look. “Come on, give me a boost,” Chuck said as he climbed up on Dakota’s shoulders. Sure enough, he found a sliver of daylight peeking past a loose board near the ceiling. Chuck pounded his hoof on the board until it broke with a CRACK!, creating a hole just big enough to poke his head through. Looking down, he saw waves splashing against the bottom of the boat. Looking up, he saw the side rail of the ship just within reach.

  “Hurry! Hurry!” Dakota whined from below. Chuck was rather beefy for such a small cow, and his hooves weighed heavily on Dakota’s shoulders. Suddenly, Dakota’s knees buckled and gave way. They both tumbled off of the barrels and onto the floor.

  “The ship’s rail is just above the ceiling,” Chuck grunted as he got back to his feet. “But I’m too big to fit through the hole. You’ll have to do it.”

  Dakota’s face fell. “Me? This was all your idea, captain!” Dakota was not fond of heights, and the idea of climbing around the outside of a ship on the open water did not thrill him.

  “You’re smaller and lighter than me,” Chuck insisted as he nudged Dakota back up the barrels. “Just grab the rail, climb up, open the hatch, and let me out. Come on, it’ll be easy!”

  Dakota groaned as he climbed up onto Chuck’s shoulders. Chuck always had a way of making his plans sound a lot easier than they actually were. Dakota wriggled himself through the hole Chuck had made in the hull. He looked down at the rushing water below, and his stomach churned even more than it had in the rocking cargo area. With a deep breath, he reached up and grabbed the top edge of the ship. But talking about climbing up to the deck was much easier than actually doing it. As he tried to pull himself up, his fingers slipped and he went tumbling down the side. He caught himself on one of the ship’s loose boards just before he hit the water. His feet dangled over the waves as he struggled to pull himself up.

  “What’s going on out there?” Chuck called from inside. “Come on, mooooove it!”

  Dakota swallowed a lump in his throat as he began the climb again. He scaled the s
ide of the ship, trying not to look down at the water as he grasped the different boards stuck to the hull. At that moment, he was very thankful that the Swashclucker had so many odd pieces of wood nailed to the side of it. Finally, Dakota reached the top. Grunting with effort, he hoisted himself over the ship’s rail and plopped onto the main deck. He crawled to the hatch and opened it. Chuck poked his head out of the hatch, quite happy to be free from the dark room.

  Squinting his eyes in the daylight, he immediately noticed two things. First, he noticed that they were completely surrounded by water, and Bermooda was nowhere in sight. Second, he noticed that Marco and the very large Ribeye were standing over them.

  “Buon Giorno, little stowaways,” Marco said, his wings on his hips. “May I help you?”

  “Oh. Ummm…lo’hai,” Chuck answered with a wave and a nervous chuckle.

  Neither Marco nor Ribeye seemed very happy to have found them aboard. They brought Chuck and Dakota up to the quarterdeck for Marco’s questioning while Ribeye steered the ship.

  “Little cows, why are you here?” he asked.

  Neither of them wanted to admit that they had been sneaking around his boat looking for treasure. “I guess…we just…wanted to hear more of your stories?” Chuck stammered.

  “If you wanted to hear more of Marco’s stories, you could have just waited until I came back to port like everyone else,” Marco said.

  “Can’t you just swing back by Bermooda and drop us off?” Dakota asked with a shrug.

  But Marco just looked past them at the horizon. “No, little one. I do not think that is possible.”

  Ribeye grunted and snorted at Marco. Chuck and Dakota had no idea what he was saying, but Marco seemed to understand just fine. They appeared to be arguing.

  “I don’t want them aboard any more than you do,” Marco said in a loud whisper. “But we have the wind on our side! We can’t just turn around and take them back to Bermooda!”