NOAH WILD AND THE FLOATING ZOO Read online

  This is for Douglas Mant

  Contents

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  ~ 1 ~

  This is the story of a boy called Noah Wild and his sister, Hatty Wild. They were very good friends, as well as being brother and sister, and they lived with their aunt, whom they called Aunt Smiley. Nobody can remember why they called her that, but the name seemed to suit her, as Aunt Smiley was a smiley sort of person, who was happy to allow Noah and Hatty to do more or less as they pleased, as long as they behaved themselves, were polite, washed their hands before meals, and kept their bedrooms tidy or tidy-ish, which is not quite the same as tidy.

  Their parents were both famous mountaineers, who spent much of their time climbing high mountains in distant countries. That was their job, and they needed to do it to earn money for the family to live on. Sometimes people have to do that – they would much prefer to be at home, but they have to go to work somewhere else. The Wilds took people up mountains and then brought them down again. They did not get paid very much for this, but they still sent any spare money they had back home to provide for Noah and Hatty. And they wrote to them regularly too, sending them long letters with pictures of the mountains they had climbed.

  Aunt Smiley was kind to the children. She was good at most things, especially knitting, and she knitted all their winter jumpers out of red and yellow wool. In the summer, she made them clothes out of canvas, cut from old tents. These clothes were much cooler, as well as being much brighter and more comfortable than anything you could buy in shops. And it saved money too, which could then be spent on food and outings to the cinema, with large buckets of popcorn. They were all very happy.

  “I really like Aunt Smiley,” Noah often said to his sister. “She must be the kindest aunt in the whole world.”

  “Very probably she is,” said Hatty, who agreed with most things her brother said, just as he agreed with most things she said.

  As well as their aunt, Noah and Hatty had an uncle, Loafy Wild. He was a ship’s captain by trade, but he was called Loafy because he was also a very good baker. He made loaves of bread in all sorts of sizes and shapes, and everyone said that there was no more delicious bread than his in the whole country.

  Rather like Aunt Smiley, Uncle Loafy smiled a lot. He also had a deep laugh that sounded a bit like a drain gurgling. And another thing about him was that he had only one leg – or only one leg that was his own, the other being an artificial leg made of cork.

  “If I ever fall in the sea,” Uncle Loafy joked, “I will float very easily because of my cork leg.”

  Hatty and Noah had been told how Uncle Loafy lost his leg. It was all to do with something that happened at sea, Aunt Smiley explained. “He fell overboard some years ago,” she said. “A shark got him, I’m afraid. Well, it got a bit of him!”

  Noah winced. “That’s very bad luck,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Aunt Smiley. “But they fitted him with his cork leg and he gets about just fine. And you know what? Loafy never complained – not once. In fact, he said, ‘I think I’m really lucky that the shark didn’t bite off both my legs.’ Now, that’s what I call being positive.”

  Uncle Loafy was a ship’s captain and a baker, but that was not all. “Did you know that your Uncle Loafy owns a zoo?” Aunt Smiley said one day.

  “A zoo!” exclaimed Hatty.

  “Yes,” Aunt Smiley went on. “You see, one day Loafy met a man who gave him a zoo. It seems that the man had to go off to Australia to live with his son and daughter, and needed to find somebody to take a zoo off his hands. He gave it to your Uncle Loafy.”

  Noah whistled. “Wow! A zoo. And what happened then?”

  “Well, because Loafy was off at sea a great deal,” Aunt Smiley continued, “he had to get a friend to run the zoo for him. He had a friend called Roger Porridge, and Roger became the head zookeeper.”

  Noah looked at Hatty. “Imagine having a zoo,” he said.

  Hatty shook her head. “I’d love to meet some of his animals,” she said. “Wouldn’t you?”

  Noah thought for a moment. Then he replied, “Yes, I think I would.”

  He did not know, of course, what was going to happen only three days later. I imagine that you’ve already guessed, but let’s see.

  Exactly three days later, Aunt Smiley announced that there had been a telephone call from Uncle Loafy.

  “Uncle Loafy is coming for tea this afternoon,” she said. “His ship has just returned from a trip to Jamaica to collect a cargo of bananas. He will be here later today.”

  Uncle Loafy arrived at exactly four o’clock in a very old red car with three wheels – one at the front and two at the back. As he climbed out of the driver’s seat, the first thing he said to Noah and Hatty was, “How many wheels does my car have, my dears?”

  “Three,” said Noah, and added, “Most cars have four, Uncle Loafy.”

  “That’s right,” said Uncle Loafy. “I used to have four, but I lost one, I’m afraid. It’s a long story and I’ll tell you more about it when we have more time. Now what I want is some tea and cake.” He smiled at Hatty. “I take it you like cake, Hatty.”

  Hatty nodded. “I like it very much, Uncle Loafy.”

  “Well, in that case,” said Uncle Loafy, “if you look in the back of the car there, you’ll find several large boxes. Do me a favour, please, and bring them inside.”

  Hatty did as she was told. But as she opened the door of the car and peered inside, she gave loud shriek of surprise.

  “There’s a monkey in there,” she shouted.

  Uncle Loafy laughed. “Oh, yes!” he said. “Of course, there’s a monkey. That’s Monkey Robertson. I forgot all about him, but I think he’ll want to come in for tea. He always likes to see what’s going on.”

  No sooner had he said this than a monkey scampered out of the car and jumped up on Uncle Loafy’s shoulder.

  “He loves to ride on my shoulder,” said Uncle Loafy. And then he said to Hatty, “Don’t forget the boxes of cake.”

  Hatty reached into the car. The boxes were rather heavy, and had the most delicious smell coming out of them. It was a smell made up of icing sugar and strawberries, of several sorts of chocolate, and of marzipan. It was a very promising smell.

  Aunt Smiley gave her brother a hug at the front door and they all went into the kitchen, where places had been laid for tea. The cakes were soon taken out of the boxes and placed in full view on the table. Hatty had never seen so many cakes in her life, and none as delicious-looking as this. Uncle Loafy smiled as he suggested she and Noah put a couple of cakes on everybody’s plate.

  “And don’t forget Monkey Robertson,” he said. “He’s particularly partial to a spot of cake.”

  They sat down at the table. Monkey Robertson sat on Uncle Loafy’s shoulder, but every so often he hopped on to the table and helped himself to a piece of cake, scattering crumbs all around as he did so. He did not have very good table manners, thought Noah, but then he was a monkey, and you can’t expect too much of a monkey.

  “While we’re eating,” Uncle Loafy said, “I shall give you some very important news. Are you listening attentively?”

  Noah and Hatty nodded. They thought their uncle was amazing, and they could barely wait to hear what he had to say.

  “Now then,” Uncle Loafy began. “You may have heard that some years ago I was given a zoo.”

  “Aunt Smiley told us that,” said Noah.

  “Did she, then?” Uncle Loafy continued. “Well, she was correct. I was given this zoo, you see, but I couldn’t really look after it myself. So I aske
d my friend …”

  “Roger Porridge?” prompted Noah.

  “Precisely,” said Uncle Loafy. “Roger and I go back a long way. We were friends as boys, and we’ve remained friends since then. Roger has always been rather good with animals, and so I asked him to look after my zoo for me.” He paused, and helped himself to another cake.

  “He is an extremely good zookeeper, is Roger,” Uncle Loafy continued. “But now he says he wants to retire. He has bought a little plot of land and he wants to grow carrots and asparagus. Which is a perfectly reasonable thing to want to do.”

  “I can quite understand,” said Aunt Smiley. “Looking after a zoo must be hard work.”

  “It is,” said Uncle Loafy. “But where does that leave me? More precisely, where does it leave my zoo?”

  “Could you not find somebody else?” asked Noah.

  Uncle Loafy sighed. “I’ve tried. But unfortunately there doesn’t seem to be anybody who can do the job.” He sighed again. “And I’m afraid I’m not much use with animals, to tell the truth. I like them, of course, but I don’t really know much about looking after them.”

  Noah and Hatty were silent. It seemed an awful pity to have a zoo but not to have anybody to look after it.

  “And so,” Uncle Loafy continued, “I made up my mind. I’ve sold most of the animals to another zoo. They are being looked after very well in their new home, but they didn’t want to take all of them. And so I have four animals left.”

  “Only four?” asked Hatty. “Which ones are they?”

  Uncle Loafy reached out for a fourth piece of cake. “Delicious cake, this,” he said. “Which animals are left, you ask? I’ll tell you. I have a South American llama, a kangaroo, an Indian tiger and, of course, our friend Monkey Robertson. He comes from Africa, I believe. You’ll know where the kangaroo comes from, I expect. And the Indian tiger comes from …”

  “India,” said Noah.

  “You’re a smart boy,” said Uncle Loafy. “Have another cake.”

  Uncle Loafy told them a bit more about the animals. “They each have a name,” he said. “The llama is called Henrietta and the kangaroo is called Mrs Roo.”

  Noah said that he thought those were very good names for a llama and a kangaroo.

  “Thank you,” said Uncle Loafy. “And the tiger is called Ram. I’m afraid he’s terribly fierce, but I suppose that’s what you must expect of a tiger.”

  Hatty asked him what he was going to do with them.

  Uncle Loafy did not hesitate. “I’m going to return them, of course,” he said. “They’re going home.”

  “To South America and Australia?” asked Noah.

  “And to India?” Hatty enquired.

  “Yes,” said Uncle Loafy.

  Noah was watching Monkey Robertson, who was licking cake icing off his tiny monkey fingers. “And what about him?” he asked, nodding towards Monkey Robertson.

  “I’ll take him home too,” he said. “Back to Africa.”

  Noah knew that monkeys cannot understand what people say, but it seemed to him that Monkey Robertson was following this conversation and had shaken his head when it was suggested he go back to Africa. He did not have time to mention this, though, as Uncle Loafy had something else to say.

  “You know that I have a boat?” he announced.

  “Yes,” said Noah. “I’ve seen a picture of it.”

  “That’s the one,” said Uncle Loafy. “Well, I have a boat, and I have charts – those are maps of the sea – that tell me how to get to these places, but …” He looked at Aunt Smiley. “I don’t have a crew, and I need at least two people to help me sail the boat and take the animals home.”

  There was silence. Noah and Hatty had both seen where this was going. They both hardly dared hope. They would do it – oh yes, they would do it as quick as a flash. But would Aunt Smiley let them go off on a dangerous voyage to the four corners of the earth in her brother’s old boat? Aunts can be funny about that sort of thing.

  Uncle Loafy now spoke directly to Aunt Smiley. “You don’t happen to know two people who would like to help?” he asked.

  The silence returned. Then Aunt Smiley said, “Well, there’s Noah and Hatty, of course. They both like animals.”

  Uncle Loafy slapped his cork leg with pleasure. “The very people I was thinking of,” he said.

  “And then,” Aunt Smiley continued, “I have a bit of time on my hands too. So, why don’t we all go? You, me, Noah and Hatty. All four of us.”

  “Four is a very good number,” said Uncle Loafy, helping himself to a final cake.

  ~ 2 ~

  There was a great deal to do before they could set off. Uncle Loafy busied himself with the boat, helped by Hatty, who was very good at woodwork.

  “I seem to have picked up a few holes,” he said. “Holes in a boat can be a bit of a problem. You know that, I imagine, Hatty.”

  Hatty nodded. She had already had a good look round the boat and realised that it needed a lot of fixing.

  “My poor old boat had a proper name, once,” Uncle Loafy explained. “But I forgot it a long time ago. So these days she’s just known as The Ark. That’s a good name, don’t you think?”

  Hatty agreed. The Ark was a comfortable name, and Uncle Loafy’s boat was a comfortable boat, for all that it had holes in it.

  “We can fix the holes,” Uncle Loafy said, pointing to a stack of round wooden pegs laid out on the deck. “You stick those pegs in the holes and then you chop off the extra bits. And then you’re good as new.”

  Monkey Robertson was watching as Uncle Loafy showed Hatty how to fix the holes. Helping himself to some of the pegs, he tried to fit them into holes but was not very good at it.

  “You can watch,” Uncle Loafy scolded him, taking back the pegs Monkey Robertson had taken. “This is not a job for monkeys.”

  Hatty had soon mastered the task, helping Uncle Loafy hammer the wooden plugs into position. Then, each armed with a saw, they would trim the wood so as to create a perfect filling. They made good progress, and soon they had knocked the last peg into position and neatly trimmed it off. Behind them, though, Monkey Robertson had been pulling some of the pegs out of their holes and putting them into other holes. He seemed very proud of his handiwork when Hatty discovered what he had been doing, and was very upset that she disapproved.

  “We’re going to have to do it all over again,” she said, shaking a finger at him. “I know you mean well, but this really is no help at all, Monkey Robertson.”

  It took some time to undo the mischief that Monkey Robertson had done, and it was only then that they could attend to the engine, which had been making a very strange wheezing sound.

  “When an engine has a cough,” said Uncle Loafy, “it means that it needs fixing.”

  While they were doing this, Noah and Aunt Smiley were drawing up lists of food they would need for the voyage.

  “It depends on how long we’re going to be away,” said Aunt Smiley. “Did Uncle Loafy tell you?”

  Noah shook his head. “He just said it would be a long time.”

  “Months and months, then,” Aunt Smiley concluded. “Which means we shall need a lot of food, Noah.”

  They began to buy the supplies. There were one hundred packets of flour for baking bread – and the occasional cake. There was a whole ton of potatoes. There were three hundred and forty-eight tins of spinach. And that was just to start. There were many other supplies that had to be ordered, unpacked and then stowed away in the hold of The Ark.

  Monkey Robertson was watching. He was very interested in food and thought it would be a good idea if he sampled some of the supplies that Noah and Aunt Smiley had brought on board. Looking about him to be sure that nobody was watching, Monkey Robertson opened various jars and stuck his fingers inside to taste the contents. He took out preserved plums and tasted them before putting them back in their jar; he scattered raisins on the floor and then picked them up, one by one, and popped them into his mouth; he stuffed ol
ives into packets of sugar, and sprinkled sugar over tomatoes. He made an awful mess before he was eventually discovered.

  Aunt Smiley scolded Monkey Robertson loudly and shooed him out of the storeroom. “That monkey!” she muttered. “That monkey is nothing but trouble!”

  Noah saw what she meant, but he had to smile. He liked Monkey Robertson, and thought that, even if he did cause a lot of trouble, he would be fun to have around. And Monkey Robertson, he felt, liked him, as he kept leaping on to his shoulders, placing a paw on his head, and looking very proud of his friend. And the monkey also kept fetching him bananas, offering them as a present, even when Noah was not at all hungry.

  Now it was time to arrange accommodation for the animals.

  “We can’t put them all together,” said Uncle Loafy. “You can’t put an Indian tiger in with a llama because …”

  “Because the tiger would eat the llama?” asked Noah.

  Uncle Loafy nodded. “Ram would eat anything,” he said, “including us, if we weren’t careful.”

  Noah was worried. He did not like the thought of being eaten by an Indian tiger – or by anything, for that matter.

  “Not that he’ll have the chance,” Uncle Loafy continued quickly. “And, actually, he’s not a bad tiger, that one. He’d only eat you if he was very, very hungry.”

  “I see,” said Noah. But he was still a bit concerned.

  “And anyway,” Uncle Loafy went on, “the other animals don’t like sharing cages. Nobody likes having Monkey Robertson jumping around at all hours of the day, playing tricks. How can Henrietta get some sleep if a monkey is pulling her tail? Llamas don’t like that sort of thing. And how does Mrs Roo get her fair share of grass if Henrietta has nibbled it all up?”

  There was only one thing for it, and that was to build new quarters for each of the animals, and Uncle Loafy and Hatty set to this task after they had finished with the engine. Soon there were four bright new cages on the deck, each with a sleeping area and a thick bedding of straw. Each had a door through which the animal could pass freely – except for the tiger’s cage, which was kept locked. “We don’t want a tiger wandering about The Ark, do we?” asked Uncle Loafy.