Castaways of the Flying Dutchman (Castaways of the Flying Dutchman Series #1)

Castaways of the Flying Dutchman (Castaways of the Flying Dutchman Series #1)

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Overview

Fans of the New York Times bestselling Redwall series will be delighted with Brian Jacques' latest. The legend of the Flying Dutchman, the ghost-ship doomed to sail the seas forever, has been passed down throughout the centuries. But what of the boy, Neb, and his dog, Den, who were trapped aboard that ship? What was to become of them?

Sent off on an eternal journey of their own, the boy and his dog roam the earth through out the centuries in search of those in need. Braving wind and waves and countless perils, they stumble across a 19th-century village whose very existence is at stake. Saving it will take the will and wile of all the people—and a very special boy and dog.

"The swashbuckling language brims with color and melodrama; the villains are dastardly and stupid; and buried treasure, mysterious clues, and luscious culinary descriptions (generally involving sweets) keep the pages turning." (Booklist)

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780142501184
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Publication date: 03/31/2003
Series: Castaways of the Flying Dutchman Series Series , #1
Edition description: Reissue
Pages: 336
Sales rank: 313,014
Product dimensions: 5.07(w) x 7.76(h) x 0.88(d)
Lexile: 770L (what's this?)
Age Range: 9 - 12 Years

About the Author

Brian Jacques was both a master storyteller and a jack-of-all-trades. He lived the life of a sailor, actor, stand-up comedian, radio host, bobby, even a bus driver. He was the recipient of an honorary doctorate in literature from the University of Liverpool and a New York Times bestselling author of more than twenty-five books for younger readers, including the wildly popular Redwall series. Dr. Jacques was a lifelong resident of Liverpool, England.

Date of Birth:

June 15, 1939

Date of Death:

February 5, 2011

Place of Birth:

Liverpool, England

Place of Death:

Liverpool, England

Education:

St. John¿s School, Liverpool, England

Read an Excerpt

Copenhagen 1620

They sat facing one another across a table in the upper room of a drinking den known as the Barbary Shark. Two men. One a Dutch sea captain, the other a Chinese gem dealer. Muffled sounds of foghorns from the nighttime harbor, mingling with the raucous seaport din outside, passed unheeded. A flagon of fine gin and a pitcher of water, close to hand, also stood ignored. In the dim, smoke-filtered atmosphere, both men's eyes were riveted upon a small, blue velvet packet, which the gem dealer had placed upon the table. Slowly he unwrapped the cloth, allowing a large emerald to catch facets of the golden lantern light. It shimmered like the eye of some fabled dragon. Noting the reflected glint in the Dutchman's avaricious stare, the Chinaman placed his long-nailed hand over the jewel and spoke softly. "My agent waits in Valparaiso for the arrival of a certain man-somebody who can bring home to me a package. It contains the brothers and sisters of this green stone, many of them! Some larger, others smaller, but any one of them worth a fortune. Riches to fire a man beyond his wildest dreams. He who brings the green stones to me must be a strong man, commanding and powerful, able to keep my treasure from the hands of others. My friend, I have eyes and ears everywhere on the waterfront. I chose you because I know you to be such a man!"

The captain's eyes, bleak and grey as winter seas, held the merchant's gaze. "You have not told me what my reward for this task will be."

The gem dealer averted his eyes from the captain's fearsome stare. He lifted his hand, exposing the emerald's green fire. "This beautiful one, and two more like it upon delivery."

The Dutchman's hand closed over the stone as he uttered a single word. "Done!"

The boy ran, mouth wide open, gasping to draw in the fog-laden air. His broken shoes slapped wetly over the harbor cobblestones. Behind him the heavy, well-shod feet of his pursuers pounded, drawing closer all the time. He staggered, forcing himself to keep going, stumbling through pools of yellow tavern lights, on into the milky muffling darkness. Never would he go back, never again would the family of his stepfather treat him like an animal, a drudge, a slave! Cold sweat streamed down into his eyes as he forced his leaden legs onward. Life? No sane being could call that life: a mute, dumb from birth, with no real father to care for him. His mother, frail creature, did not live long after her marriage to Bjornsen, the herring merchant. After her death the boy was forced to live in a cellar. Bjornsen and his three hulking sons treated their captive no better than a dog. The boy ran with the resounding clatter of Bjornsen's sons close behind him. His one aim was to escape them and their miserable existence. Never would he go back. Never!

A scarfaced Burmese seaman crept swiftly downstairs, where he joined four others at a darkened corner of the Barbary Shark tavern. He nodded to his cohorts, whispering, "Kapitan come now!"

They were all sailors of varied nationalities, as villainous a bunch of wharf rats as ever to put foot on shipboard. Drawing further back into the shadows, they watched the staircase, which led from the upper room. The long blue scar on the face of the Burmese twitched as he winked at the others.

"I 'ear all, Kapitan goes for the green stones!"

A heavily bearded Englishman smiled thinly. "So, we ain't just takin' a cargo of ironware out to Valparaiso. Who does Vanderdecken think he's foolin', eh? He's only goin' out there to pick up a king's ransom of precious stones!"

A hawkfaced Arab drew a dagger from his belt. "Then we collect our wages, yes?"

The Englander, who was the ringleader, seized the Arab's wrist. "Aye, we'll live like lords for the rest of our lives, mate. But you stow that blade, an' wait 'til I gives the word."

They took another drink before leaving the Barbary Shark.

The boy stood facing his pursuers-he was trapped, with no place to run, his back to the sea. Bjornsen's three big sons closed in on the edge of the wharf, where their victim stood gasping for air and trembling in the fogbound night. Reaching out, the tallest of the trio grabbed the lad's shirtfront.

With a muted animal-like grunt, the boy sank his teeth into his captor's hand. Bjornsen's son roared in pain, releasing his quarry and instinctively lashing out with his good hand. He cuffed the boy a heavy blow to his jaw. Stunned, the youngster reeled backward, missed his footing, and fell from the top of the wharf pylons, splashing into the sea. He went straight down and under the surface.

Kneeling on the edge, the three brothers stared into the dim, greasy depths. A slim stream of bubbles broke the surface. Then nothing. Fear registered on the brutish face of the one who had done the deed, but he recovered his composure quickly, warning the other two.

"We could not find him, nobody will know. He had no relatives in the world. What's another dumb fool more or less. Come on!"

Checking about to see that they had not been noticed in the dark and fog, the trio scurried off home.

Standing at the gangplank, the Dutch captain watched the last of his crew emerge from the misty swaths which wreathed the harbor. He gestured them aboard.

"Drinking again, jah? Well, there be little enough to get drunk on 'tween here and the Pacific side of the Americas. Come, get aboard now, make ready to sail!"

The blue scar contracted as the Burmese smiled. "Aye, aye, Kapitan, we make sail!"

With floodtide swirling about her hull and the stern fenders scraping against the wharf timbers, the vessel came about facing seaward. Staring ahead into the fog, the captain brought the wheel about half a point and called, "Let go aft!"

A Finnish sailor standing astern flicked the rope expertly, jerking the noosed end off the bollard which held it. The rope splashed into the water. Shivering in the cold night air, he left it to trail along, not wanting to get his hands wet and frozen by hauling the backstay rope aboard. He ran quickly into the galley and held his hands out over the warm stove.

The boy was half in and half out of consciousness, numbed to his bones in the cold sea. He felt the rough manila rope brush against his cheek and seized it. Painfully, hand over hand, he hauled himself upward. When his feet touched ship's timber, the boy pulled his body clear of the icy sea and found a ledge. He huddled on it, looking up at the name painted on the vessel's stern in faded, gold-embellished red. Fleiger Hollander.

He had never learned to read, so the letters meant nothing to him. Fleiger Hollander in Dutch, or had the lad been able to understand English, Flying Dutchman.

--Reprinted Castaways of the Flying Dutchman by Brian Jacques by Permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Copyright © 2000 Brian Jacques. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

 

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Copenhagen 1620

They sat facing one another across a table in the upper room of a drinking den known as the Barbary Shark. Two men. One a Dutch sea captain, the other a Chinese gem dealer. Muffled sounds of foghorns from the nighttime harbor, mingling with the raucous seaport din outside, passed unheeded. A flagon of fine gin and a pitcher of water, close to hand, also stood ignored. In the dim, smoke-filtered atmosphere, both men's eyes were riveted upon a small, blue velvet packet, which the gem dealer had placed upon the table. Slowly he unwrapped the cloth, allowing a large emerald to catch facets of the golden lantern light. It shimmered like the eye of some fabled dragon. Noting the reflected glint in the Dutchman's avaricious stare, the Chinaman placed his long-nailed hand over the jewel and spoke softly. "My agent waits in Valparaiso for the arrival of a certain man-somebody who can bring home to me a package. It contains the brothers and sisters of this green stone, many of them! Some larger, others smaller, but any one of them worth a fortune. Riches to fire a man beyond his wildest dreams. He who brings the green stones to me must be a strong man, commanding and powerful, able to keep my treasure from the hands of others. My friend, I have eyes and ears everywhere on the waterfront. I chose you because I know you to be such a man!"

The captain's eyes, bleak and grey as winter seas, held the merchant's gaze. "You have not told me what my reward for this task will be."

The gem dealer averted his eyes from the captain's fearsome stare. He lifted his hand, exposing the emerald's green fire. "This beautiful one, and two more like it upon delivery."

The Dutchman's hand closed over the stone as he uttered a single word. "Done!"

The boy ran, mouth wide open, gasping to draw in the fog-laden air. His broken shoes slapped wetly over the harbor cobblestones. Behind him the heavy, well-shod feet of his pursuers pounded, drawing closer all the time. He staggered, forcing himself to keep going, stumbling through pools of yellow tavern lights, on into the milky muffling darkness. Never would he go back, never again would the family of his stepfather treat him like an animal, a drudge, a slave! Cold sweat streamed down into his eyes as he forced his leaden legs onward. Life? No sane being could call that life: a mute, dumb from birth, with no real father to care for him. His mother, frail creature, did not live long after her marriage to Bjornsen, the herring merchant. After her death the boy was forced to live in a cellar. Bjornsen and his three hulking sons treated their captive no better than a dog. The boy ran with the resounding clatter of Bjornsen's sons close behind him. His one aim was to escape them and their miserable existence. Never would he go back. Never!

A scarfaced Burmese seaman crept swiftly downstairs, where he joined four others at a darkened corner of the Barbary Shark tavern. He nodded to his cohorts, whispering, "Kapitan come now!"

They were all sailors of varied nationalities, as villainous a bunch of wharf rats as ever to put foot on shipboard. Drawing further back into the shadows, they watched the staircase, which led from the upper room. The long blue scar on the face of the Burmese twitched as he winked at the others.

"I 'ear all, Kapitan goes for the green stones!"

A heavily bearded Englishman smiled thinly. "So, we ain't just takin' a cargo of ironware out to Valparaiso. Who does Vanderdecken think he's foolin', eh? He's only goin' out there to pick up a king's ransom of precious stones!"

A hawkfaced Arab drew a dagger from his belt. "Then we collect our wages, yes?"

The Englander, who was the ringleader, seized the Arab's wrist. "Aye, we'll live like lords for the rest of our lives, mate. But you stow that blade, an' wait 'til I gives the word."

They took another drink before leaving the Barbary Shark.

The boy stood facing his pursuers-he was trapped, with no place to run, his back to the sea. Bjornsen's three big sons closed in on the edge of the wharf, where their victim stood gasping for air and trembling in the fogbound night. Reaching out, the tallest of the trio grabbed the lad's shirtfront.

With a muted animal-like grunt, the boy sank his teeth into his captor's hand. Bjornsen's son roared in pain, releasing his quarry and instinctively lashing out with his good hand. He cuffed the boy a heavy blow to his jaw. Stunned, the youngster reeled backward, missed his footing, and fell from the top of the wharf pylons, splashing into the sea. He went straight down and under the surface.

Kneeling on the edge, the three brothers stared into the dim, greasy depths. A slim stream of bubbles broke the surface. Then nothing. Fear registered on the brutish face of the one who had done the deed, but he recovered his composure quickly, warning the other two.

"We could not find him, nobody will know. He had no relatives in the world. What's another dumb fool more or less. Come on!"

Checking about to see that they had not been noticed in the dark and fog, the trio scurried off home.

Standing at the gangplank, the Dutch captain watched the last of his crew emerge from the misty swaths which wreathed the harbor. He gestured them aboard.

"Drinking again, jah? Well, there be little enough to get drunk on 'tween here and the Pacific side of the Americas. Come, get aboard now, make ready to sail!"

The blue scar contracted as the Burmese smiled. "Aye, aye, Kapitan, we make sail!"

With floodtide swirling about her hull and the stern fenders scraping against the wharf timbers, the vessel came about facing seaward. Staring ahead into the fog, the captain brought the wheel about half a point and called, "Let go aft!"

A Finnish sailor standing astern flicked the rope expertly, jerking the noosed end off the bollard which held it. The rope splashed into the water. Shivering in the cold night air, he left it to trail along, not wanting to get his hands wet and frozen by hauling the backstay rope aboard. He ran quickly into the galley and held his hands out over the warm stove.

The boy was half in and half out of consciousness, numbed to his bones in the cold sea. He felt the rough manila rope brush against his cheek and seized it. Painfully, hand over hand, he hauled himself upward. When his feet touched ship's timber, the boy pulled his body clear of the icy sea and found a ledge. He huddled on it, looking up at the name painted on the vessel's stern in faded, gold-embellished red. Fleiger Hollander.

He had never learned to read, so the letters meant nothing to him. Fleiger Hollander in Dutch, or had the lad been able to understand English, Flying Dutchman.

--Reprinted Castaways of the Flying Dutchman by Brian Jacques by Permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Copyright © 2000 Brian Jacques. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

 

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The Flying Dutchman! The legend of the wind-tattered ghost ship and its mad sea Captain, cursed to sail the seas forever, has been passed down throughout the centuries. But what of the young boy and his dog who were trapped aboard that ship? What became of them?

In this, one of Brian Jacques's most original adventures, the castaway boy and dog set off on an eternal journey of their own, braving icy wind and waves to arrive at strange shores, and explore new places and times. The unlikely Chapelvale village is their first destination, a Victorian town under siege. If Ben and his dog, Ned, can help the townspeople figure out the clues and riddles hidden beneath floorboards and deep inside wells--perhaps they can save Chapelvale and its people as well.

Brian Jacques as you have never seen him before!

 

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Copenhagen 1620

They sat facing one another across a table in the upper room of a drinking den known as the Barbary Shark. Two men. One a Dutch sea captain, the other a Chinese gem dealer. Muffled sounds of foghorns from the nighttime harbor, mingling with the raucous seaport din outside, passed unheeded. A flagon of fine gin and a pitcher of water, close to hand, also stood ignored. In the dim, smoke-filtered atmosphere, both men's eyes were riveted upon a small, blue velvet packet, which the gem dealer had placed upon the table. Slowly he unwrapped the cloth, allowing a large emerald to catch facets of the golden lantern light. It shimmered like the eye of some fabled dragon. Noting the reflected glint in the Dutchman's avaricious stare, the Chinaman placed his long-nailed hand over the jewel and spoke softly. "My agent waits in Valparaiso for the arrival of a certain man-somebody who can bring home to me a package. It contains the brothers and sisters of this green stone, many of them! Some larger, others smaller, but any one of them worth a fortune. Riches to fire a man beyond his wildest dreams. He who brings the green stones to me must be a strong man, commanding and powerful, able to keep my treasure from the hands of others. My friend, I have eyes and ears everywhere on the waterfront. I chose you because I know you to be such a man!"

The captain's eyes, bleak and grey as winter seas, held the merchant's gaze. "You have not told me what my reward for this task will be."

The gem dealer averted his eyes from the captain's fearsome stare. He lifted his hand, exposing the emerald's green fire. "This beautiful one, and two more like it upon delivery."

The Dutchman's hand closed over the stone as he uttered a single word. "Done!"

The boy ran, mouth wide open, gasping to draw in the fog-laden air. His broken shoes slapped wetly over the harbor cobblestones. Behind him the heavy, well-shod feet of his pursuers pounded, drawing closer all the time. He staggered, forcing himself to keep going, stumbling through pools of yellow tavern lights, on into the milky muffling darkness. Never would he go back, never again would the family of his stepfather treat him like an animal, a drudge, a slave! Cold sweat streamed down into his eyes as he forced his leaden legs onward. Life? No sane being could call that life: a mute, dumb from birth, with no real father to care for him. His mother, frail creature, did not live long after her marriage to Bjornsen, the herring merchant. After her death the boy was forced to live in a cellar. Bjornsen and his three hulking sons treated their captive no better than a dog. The boy ran with the resounding clatter of Bjornsen's sons close behind him. His one aim was to escape them and their miserable existence. Never would he go back. Never!

A scarfaced Burmese seaman crept swiftly downstairs, where he joined four others at a darkened corner of the Barbary Shark tavern. He nodded to his cohorts, whispering, "Kapitan come now!"

They were all sailors of varied nationalities, as villainous a bunch of wharf rats as ever to put foot on shipboard. Drawing further back into the shadows, they watched the staircase, which led from the upper room. The long blue scar on the face of the Burmese twitched as he winked at the others.

"I 'ear all, Kapitan goes for the green stones!"

A heavily bearded Englishman smiled thinly. "So, we ain't just takin' a cargo of ironware out to Valparaiso. Who does Vanderdecken think he's foolin', eh? He's only goin' out there to pick up a king's ransom of precious stones!"

A hawkfaced Arab drew a dagger from his belt. "Then we collect our wages, yes?"

The Englander, who was the ringleader, seized the Arab's wrist. "Aye, we'll live like lords for the rest of our lives, mate. But you stow that blade, an' wait 'til I gives the word."

They took another drink before leaving the Barbary Shark.

The boy stood facing his pursuers-he was trapped, with no place to run, his back to the sea. Bjornsen's three big sons closed in on the edge of the wharf, where their victim stood gasping for air and trembling in the fogbound night. Reaching out, the tallest of the trio grabbed the lad's shirtfront.

With a muted animal-like grunt, the boy sank his teeth into his captor's hand. Bjornsen's son roared in pain, releasing his quarry and instinctively lashing out with his good hand. He cuffed the boy a heavy blow to his jaw. Stunned, the youngster reeled backward, missed his footing, and fell from the top of the wharf pylons, splashing into the sea. He went straight down and under the surface.

Kneeling on the edge, the three brothers stared into the dim, greasy depths. A slim stream of bubbles broke the surface. Then nothing. Fear registered on the brutish face of the one who had done the deed, but he recovered his composure quickly, warning the other two.

"We could not find him, nobody will know. He had no relatives in the world. What's another dumb fool more or less. Come on!"

Checking about to see that they had not been noticed in the dark and fog, the trio scurried off home.

Standing at the gangplank, the Dutch captain watched the last of his crew emerge from the misty swaths which wreathed the harbor. He gestured them aboard.

"Drinking again, jah? Well, there be little enough to get drunk on 'tween here and the Pacific side of the Americas. Come, get aboard now, make ready to sail!"

The blue scar contracted as the Burmese smiled. "Aye, aye, Kapitan, we make sail!"

With floodtide swirling about her hull and the stern fenders scraping against the wharf timbers, the vessel came about facing seaward. Staring ahead into the fog, the captain brought the wheel about half a point and called, "Let go aft!"

A Finnish sailor standing astern flicked the rope expertly, jerking the noosed end off the bollard which held it. The rope splashed into the water. Shivering in the cold night air, he left it to trail along, not wanting to get his hands wet and frozen by hauling the backstay rope aboard. He ran quickly into the galley and held his hands out over the warm stove.

The boy was half in and half out of consciousness, numbed to his bones in the cold sea. He felt the rough manila rope brush against his cheek and seized it. Painfully, hand over hand, he hauled himself upward. When his feet touched ship's timber, the boy pulled his body clear of the icy sea and found a ledge. He huddled on it, looking up at the name painted on the vessel's stern in faded, gold-embellished red. Fleiger Hollander.

He had never learned to read, so the letters meant nothing to him. Fleiger Hollander in Dutch, or had the lad been able to understand English, Flying Dutchman.

--Reprinted Castaways of the Flying Dutchman by Brian Jacques by Permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Copyright © 2000 Brian Jacques. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

 

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The Flying Dutchman! The legend of the wind-tattered ghost ship and its mad sea Captain, cursed to sail the seas forever, has been passed down throughout the centuries. But what of the young boy and his dog who were trapped aboard that ship? What became of them?

In this, one of Brian Jacques's most original adventures, the castaway boy and dog set off on an eternal journey of their own, braving icy wind and waves to arrive at strange shores, and explore new places and times. The unlikely Chapelvale village is their first destination, a Victorian town under siege. If Ben and his dog, Ned, can help the townspeople figure out the clues and riddles hidden beneath floorboards and deep inside wells--perhaps they can save Chapelvale and its people as well.

Brian Jacques as you have never seen him before!

 

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Copenhagen 1620

They sat facing one another across a table in the upper room of a drinking den known as the Barbary Shark. Two men. One a Dutch sea captain, the other a Chinese gem dealer. Muffled sounds of foghorns from the nighttime harbor, mingling with the raucous seaport din outside, passed unheeded. A flagon of fine gin and a pitcher of water, close to hand, also stood ignored. In the dim, smoke-filtered atmosphere, both men's eyes were riveted upon a small, blue velvet packet, which the gem dealer had placed upon the table. Slowly he unwrapped the cloth, allowing a large emerald to catch facets of the golden lantern light. It shimmered like the eye of some fabled dragon. Noting the reflected glint in the Dutchman's avaricious stare, the Chinaman placed his long-nailed hand over the jewel and spoke softly. "My agent waits in Valparaiso for the arrival of a certain man-somebody who can bring home to me a package. It contains the brothers and sisters of this green stone, many of them! Some larger, others smaller, but any one of them worth a fortune. Riches to fire a man beyond his wildest dreams. He who brings the green stones to me must be a strong man, commanding and powerful, able to keep my treasure from the hands of others. My friend, I have eyes and ears everywhere on the waterfront. I chose you because I know you to be such a man!"

The captain's eyes, bleak and grey as winter seas, held the merchant's gaze. "You have not told me what my reward for this task will be."

The gem dealer averted his eyes from the captain's fearsome stare. He lifted his hand, exposing the emerald's green fire. "This beautiful one, and two more like it upon delivery."

The Dutchman's hand closed over the stone as he uttered a single word. "Done!"

The boy ran, mouth wide open, gasping to draw in the fog-laden air. His broken shoes slapped wetly over the harbor cobblestones. Behind him the heavy, well-shod feet of his pursuers pounded, drawing closer all the time. He staggered, forcing himself to keep going, stumbling through pools of yellow tavern lights, on into the milky muffling darkness. Never would he go back, never again would the family of his stepfather treat him like an animal, a drudge, a slave! Cold sweat streamed down into his eyes as he forced his leaden legs onward. Life? No sane being could call that life: a mute, dumb from birth, with no real father to care for him. His mother, frail creature, did not live long after her marriage to Bjornsen, the herring merchant. After her death the boy was forced to live in a cellar. Bjornsen and his three hulking sons treated their captive no better than a dog. The boy ran with the resounding clatter of Bjornsen's sons close behind him. His one aim was to escape them and their miserable existence. Never would he go back. Never!

A scarfaced Burmese seaman crept swiftly downstairs, where he joined four others at a darkened corner of the Barbary Shark tavern. He nodded to his cohorts, whispering, "Kapitan come now!"

They were all sailors of varied nationalities, as villainous a bunch of wharf rats as ever to put foot on shipboard. Drawing further back into the shadows, they watched the staircase, which led from the upper room. The long blue scar on the face of the Burmese twitched as he winked at the others.

"I 'ear all, Kapitan goes for the green stones!"

A heavily bearded Englishman smiled thinly. "So, we ain't just takin' a cargo of ironware out to Valparaiso. Who does Vanderdecken think he's foolin', eh? He's only goin' out there to pick up a king's ransom of precious stones!"

A hawkfaced Arab drew a dagger from his belt. "Then we collect our wages, yes?"

The Englander, who was the ringleader, seized the Arab's wrist. "Aye, we'll live like lords for the rest of our lives, mate. But you stow that blade, an' wait 'til I gives the word."

They took another drink before leaving the Barbary Shark.

The boy stood facing his pursuers-he was trapped, with no place to run, his back to the sea. Bjornsen's three big sons closed in on the edge of the wharf, where their victim stood gasping for air and trembling in the fogbound night. Reaching out, the tallest of the trio grabbed the lad's shirtfront.

With a muted animal-like grunt, the boy sank his teeth into his captor's hand. Bjornsen's son roared in pain, releasing his quarry and instinctively lashing out with his good hand. He cuffed the boy a heavy blow to his jaw. Stunned, the youngster reeled backward, missed his footing, and fell from the top of the wharf pylons, splashing into the sea. He went straight down and under the surface.

Kneeling on the edge, the three brothers stared into the dim, greasy depths. A slim stream of bubbles broke the surface. Then nothing. Fear registered on the brutish face of the one who had done the deed, but he recovered his composure quickly, warning the other two.

"We could not find him, nobody will know. He had no relatives in the world. What's another dumb fool more or less. Come on!"

Checking about to see that they had not been noticed in the dark and fog, the trio scurried off home.

Standing at the gangplank, the Dutch captain watched the last of his crew emerge from the misty swaths which wreathed the harbor. He gestured them aboard.

"Drinking again, jah? Well, there be little enough to get drunk on 'tween here and the Pacific side of the Americas. Come, get aboard now, make ready to sail!"

The blue scar contracted as the Burmese smiled. "Aye, aye, Kapitan, we make sail!"

With floodtide swirling about her hull and the stern fenders scraping against the wharf timbers, the vessel came about facing seaward. Staring ahead into the fog, the captain brought the wheel about half a point and called, "Let go aft!"

A Finnish sailor standing astern flicked the rope expertly, jerking the noosed end off the bollard which held it. The rope splashed into the water. Shivering in the cold night air, he left it to trail along, not wanting to get his hands wet and frozen by hauling the backstay rope aboard. He ran quickly into the galley and held his hands out over the warm stove.

The boy was half in and half out of consciousness, numbed to his bones in the cold sea. He felt the rough manila rope brush against his cheek and seized it. Painfully, hand over hand, he hauled himself upward. When his feet touched ship's timber, the boy pulled his body clear of the icy sea and found a ledge. He huddled on it, looking up at the name painted on the vessel's stern in faded, gold-embellished red. Fleiger Hollander.

He had never learned to read, so the letters meant nothing to him. Fleiger Hollander in Dutch, or had the lad been able to understand English, Flying Dutchman.

--Reprinted Castaways of the Flying Dutchman by Brian Jacques by Permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Copyright © 2000 Brian Jacques. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

 

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Excerpted from "Castaways of the Flying Dutchman"
by .
Copyright © 2003 Brian Jacques.
Excerpted by permission of Penguin Young Readers Group.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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"Swashbuckling." —Booklist

"Bold and brilliant...powerful and unforgettable." —Lloyd Alexander, Newbery Medal Winner

"Fans will not be disappointed." —Publishers Weekly

Customer Reviews

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Castaways of the Flying Dutchman (Castaways of the Flying Dutchman Series #1) 4.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 80 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
It is written really well. I recommend this book to readers who love sad and adventurous stories
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I really love this book Ive read it like three times
SusanHR More than 1 year ago
Really, what kid has not ever imagined what it would be like to talk to their dog? Lots of action, a good vs. evil battle, great read. Recommend for age 10+.
Jacie LeBlanc More than 1 year ago
I love this book!!!!! Best book brian ever wrote. Its really exciting and amazing.
Skatergirl More than 1 year ago
This awesome book is partly about the cursed ship the flying dutchman that is cursed to sail the sea with no escape not even death. but its mostly about a boy named neb short for nebuchaneezer and his dog den short for denmark even though about halfway through the book they change their names to ben and ned. they are given boundless youth and a lot of other stuff and are told by the angel that cursed the flying dutchman that they have to go around the world helping people, and doing only good. In it they help an old man and help save a town, u have to read it to get more details! ok this review may sound a little boring but READ the book!!! you will definitly not be dissapointed!!! This is one of the best books i've read in a long time!!!! take my advice and READ THIS BOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book is very good. The idea of a boy and dog that escaped from the Flying Dutchman and now travel the world doing good is interesting. I think that the book is going to be the first of another excellent series by Brian Jacques. Ben is an intriguing character and Ned is hilarious. The author is very good at making intriguing plotlines where you never see the next thing coming. This book is just as good as the Redwall series. This is one of the best books I have read in a long time. The twists and turns as they struggle to figure out the riddles are in true Brian Jacques style. The only thing that I didn¿t like about this book is that Ben and Ned always have to leave those that they care for after they help them. My other favorite character is Amy because she is very bright and caring.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This book is amazing, normally I'd rate Redwall 5 stars too, this by far is one of the greatest books, and it tells my desires, I really wish I could be immortal, but being immortal is always for a price. That was probably what brian jacques was thinking when he wrote the book. READ THE BOOK PEOPLE!
Guest More than 1 year ago
Hello my name is Lukas and I absolutely loved reading this great book. I have already read it twice. Castaways of a Flying Dutchman is definetly a great read. If you are a reader (boy or girl, young or old) looking for a book that is different and adventerous read this! It is a novel from the author Brian Jacques who normally writes books that are far different from it. It includes a pretty large range of settings from the icy waters of Cape Horn to the warmth of New England. Castaways of a Flying Dutchman is one of those books that keeps you wondering 'what will happen next' and then at the end of your book you are sad that it is over. I can not say anything more about it without giving it away so go to your nearest Barnes and Noble, buy it, and sit down and enjoy!
Guest More than 1 year ago
Brian Jaques has done it again with his book CASTWAYS OF THE FLYING DUITCH MAN. His Imagination in using the ancient mariner legend of the Flying Dutchman is well thought out. This book shows Jaques ability as a writer. You feel like you are on the high sea's or in the Old english village. Hopefully this will be the first in another of Brian Jaques succesful series of books
Guest More than 1 year ago
I thought that this was a very well written, interesting book but it pales in comparison to the other works of Brian Jacques. The Redwall Series was so good that i think anything else he tries to do would never live up to it. I thought that the adventures of Jem and Ned were very interesting and i actually read it in two days. Even though this isn't a Redwall book Brian Jacques' writing style is still there and that is enough to keep readers hooked. I would recomend this book to anyone who has read the Redwall Series, but if you havn't i suggest that you read that first and experience Brian Jacques at his best.
Guest More than 1 year ago
While well written and a pleasure to read, I do not think that this is his best book. I am a huge Redwall fan and while I appreciate him trying to explore new frontiers in his writing, in my opinion he should probably stick to Redwall. Don't get me wrong I spent nearly every waking moment trying to finish this book, in the end I decided it was not his best. As brilliantly talented as he is, the creative world of Redwall is where he belongs. I would still recommend this book to fans of Brian Jacques' style of writing
timothyl33 on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
From the author of the famed Redwall series, Brian Jacques brings us a new story that's not of medieval animals, but just as exciting.
librisissimo on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Substance: A young boy and a dog escape from the cursed 17th-century ship "The Flying Dutchman" because of their innocence of evil, but are doomed to wander the earth in eternal youth. After detailing the horrors of life on the ship and their dramatic escape, the second half of the book gives the story of their involvement in the riddles of a 19th century village.Style: Dramatic and engaging, but the situations are definitely tailored for the junior reader.
richiespicks on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Richie's Picks: CASTAWAYS OF THE FLYING DUTCHMAN by Brian Jacques, Philomel, March 2001 An orphan in 1620 escapes enslavement at the hands of his stepbrothers when he falls into the harbor and ends up on the legendary soon-to-be ghost ship, the Flying Dutchman. Along with the faithful black Labrador he adopts, the boy is saved from the fate of the scoundrels on the ship when he is washed overboard. Washed up on Tierra del Fuego, the boy and the dog begin a series of adventures around the world to the benefit of those good souls with whom they come in contact. Filled with the excitement of Jacques' strorytelling style, but moving me to the extent that the Redwall books never did, I believe this to be the finest thing he's written
HHS-Students on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Reviewed by Renee (Class of 2011)This book is so captivating! A boy and his faithful dog bound together for eternity doing good. This story is a roller coaster of emotion and suspense. Once you pick it up you can't put it down. Read the other two books in this series. Ask the media center librarian for these books.
CoWe0502 on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
this was one of the best books I have ever read in my life, its about this boy and his black lab who run away on and accidently gone on the legandary gost ship, the flying duchman. this is an book has action, adventure, lauther, and mystery
LordRoe on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This book is aimed at young readers, similar to Jacques other books, namely Redwall. That being said, this was one of my favorite books of my young life. It has fairly good morals, a good story, and gripping characters without getting too in-depth or philisophical that a young reader can't enjoy it. Older readers may still get some enjoyment out of it, but likely not as much as younger readers, as the story is fairly light-handed compared to most adult novels. Its length is a bit disappointing, however, as only one very specific time in his post-dutchman years is encapsulated - more would have been welcome.
katekf on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
In this intriguing book, Brian Jacques wonders what really happened to create the legend of the Flying Dutchman. The story follows a boy who is caught up in Holland by the ship and finds himself following an unexpected course. I don't want to spoil the story only to say that this is as good a read as any of Jacques' Redwall books with adventure, riddles and friendship. It reminded me of Victorian stories of the supernatural such as MacDonald's or Poe's, which was a treat. This is a book that would appeal to middle school readers and above with its exciting story and sympathetic cast.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This was the first book I truly loved and thought about often. I'm a huge fan of adventure stories, so if you are as well, then this book and the ones that follow it are for you! 
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