Dear mouse friends,
Welcome to the world of
THE RODENT’S GAZETTE
EDITORIAL STAFF
Geronimo Stilton
A learned and brainy
mouse; editor of
The Rodent’s Gazette
Thea Stilton
Geronimo’s sister and
special correspondent at
The Rodent’s Gazette
Trap Stilton
An awful joker;
Geronimo’s cousin and
owner of the store
Cheap Junk for Less
Benjamin Stilton
A sweet and loving
nine-year-old mouse;
Geronimo’s favorite
nephew
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eISBN 978-0-545-39182-5
Copyright © 2000 by Edizioni Piemme S.p.A., Corso Como 15, 20154
Milan, Italy.
International Rights © Atlantyca S.p.A.
English translation © 2004 by Atlantyca S.p.A.
GERONIMO STILTON names, characters, and related indicia are
copyright, trademark, and exclusive license of Atlantyca S.p.A. All rights
reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Based on an original idea by Elisabetta Dami.
www.geronimostilton.com
Published by Scholastic Inc., 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered
trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Stilton is the name of a famous English cheese. It is a registered trademark
of the Stilton Cheese Makers’ Association. For more information, go to
www.stiltoncheese.com.
Text by Geronimo Stilton
Original title Il galeone dei gatti pirati
Cover by Matt Wolf, revised by Larry Keys
Illustrations by Matt Wolf, revised by Moustache de’Fer, Andy mc Black,
Topika Topraska
Graphics by Merenguita Gingermouse, Angela Simone, and Benedetta
G’lante
Special thanks to Kathryn Cristaldi
Interior design by Madalina Stefan Blanton
First printing, June 2004
What a rat’s nest this morning in front of
my office! When I came up from the subway,
I saw mice of all shapes and sizes
packing the street. All their snouts were
in the air. They were staring at the
windows of my office! The crowd
began to chant:
“STIL-TON! STIL-TON!
WE WANT STIL-TON!
GERO-NIMO STIL-TON!”
Uh-oh. I had a feeling
these mice weren’t looking
for my autograph.
Luckily, no one
recognized me.
We Want Stil-ton!
r
o
d
e
n
t
’
s
g
a
z
e
t
t
e
t
h
e
18S
19R
Because, you see, I am Geronimo Stilton!
Quiet as a mouse, I wriggled through the
crowd and sneaked up the back stairs. I
dashed into my office, huffing and puffing
for air. I really needed to get back
to my gym, Rats La Lanne. My
secretary, Mousella, ran to meet
me. “Mr. Stilton!
Horrible news!” she
squEAKed, waving the
phone book we had just
printed. “New Mouse City’s
YELLOW PAGES are a
disaster! There isn’t
one correct phone
number! Not one!”
Pale as a slice of mozzarella
cheese, I leafed through the
book. “Addresses . . . telephone numbers . . .
2
YELLOW
PAGES
they’re all wrong? I am ruuuuuined!” I
SHRIEKED, pulling at my whiskers.
I heard the crowd yelling and leaned out
my window. They had lit a huge bonfire
right in the middle of the street. They
were
burning
my directories!!!
A fierce-looking mouse pointed at
me with his paw. “That’s him!
That’s Geronimo Stilton! The one
who published the Yellow
Pages! He’s the one who’s
turned New Mouse City on its
tail!”
The crowd began chanting
again. “STIL-TON! STIL-TON!
WE WANT STIL-TON!”
Suddenly, all the telephones in my office
started ringing. I answered the phone on
my desk.
3
“I need to speak with that
cheddarface, Mr. Stilton!”
an angry voice snarled on
the other end.
“Um, Mr. Stilton isn’t
here,” I squeaked in a high-
pitched voice. Hopefully, the
caller wouldn’t know it was
me. “I don’t know where he is,”
I continued. “He might be in the hospital
with an ingrown toenail. Or maybe he’s
helping out down at the Creaky Mouse
Nursing Home. He does a lot of charity
work, you know.”
I decided to unplug the
telephones, but the fax
machines were all spitting
out nasty letters.
Threatening e-mails popped up on my
4
computer screen: “We know where you live!
You can’t hide! No hole is safe!”
Mousella wrung her paws. Tears rolled
down her snout. “Mr. Stilton, this is a
total disaster! Even our own telephone
number is wrong!” she squeaked. “We are
now the Furry Tails Toilet Paper
Company!”
“Don’t worry, Mousella. I have everything
under control,” I cried, closing my eyes.
Maybe I was just having a bad dream. I
waited a few seconds, then opened my eyes.
The rodents outside were throwing moldy
cheese balls at my window.
No, this wasn’t a bad dream. It was a
living nightmare!
5
13S
14R
Just then, Blunders, my editor in chief,
knocked
at the door.
“Mr. Stilton, your cousin Trap is
here,” he announced, tripping over his tail.
“I am not in for anyone!” I shouted.
Blunders jumped, spilling his mug
of
cheddar tea. “Um, well, he says it’s urgent!”
“I — am —
not — in!”
I repeated.
Next thing I
knew, my cousin,
a plumpish
mouse with
BEADY EYES,
What a Furbrain!
knock
knock
was standing before me. He put both paws
on my desk and smiled.
Have you ever met my cousin? He owns
a shop in downtown New Mouse City—
Cheap Junk for Less. He’s a terrible
prankster
. And his favorite hobby is
teasing me! Another thing you should
know about Trap, he’s like a refrigerator
magnet for trouble. Sometimes you can’t
tear those two apart!
“What do you want?
Can’t you see I am busy?”
I yelled. “And please, take
your paws off my desk!”
“
Hello, there,
Cousinkins! What’s up?”
he squeaked, picking his
teeth with my letter
opener.
7
I took off my glasses so that I could cry
freely. “Can’t you see I am in big trouble here?”
could have been a lifeguard down at WaterRat
Park or a waiter at The Cheese Garden. . . .”
Trap smirked. “Are you kidding? A
furbrain like you couldn’t do those jobs!”
“I am not a furbrain!” I squEAKed,
fuming.
Just then, the phone
rang. In a flash, Trap
had his paw on the
receiver.
“If it’s for me, please tell them I am not
in,” I begged.
He
picked up
the phone and straightened
his tie. “Hello, this is The Stilton Publishing
Company. No,
Mr. Stilton is not in.
Yes, yes, I agree that he is a hopeless
cheddarface, a total nincompoop!” my
cousin nodded. “Well, of course I will tell
him. He is a complete furbrain! Thank
you for calling!” he added before hanging up.
I twisted my whiskers in rage. Steam
poured out from my ears. I
felt like a cheddar cheese
marshmallow left in a
microwave too long.
“I asked you to say I was not in,” I
shrieked. “I didn’t say make friends with
any wacky mouse who calls!”
“That wasn’t any wacky mouse!” my
9
cousin insisted. “I was talking to
Saucy
LePaws,
the famous chef. He says
you switched the number of his restaurant
with the one for the city dump! I’d better
not tell you where he said he wanted to
send you.”
All of a sudden, my cousin’s eyes lit
up. “Hey, that reminds me. Do you know
why I’m here?”
I put my head in my paws. “Yes, I do,” I
mumbled. “You are here to drive me nuts!
And it’s working. I’m packing my bags for
the Mad Mouse Center. I’ll leave tonight.”
“Not so fast,” Trap said, giggling. “I am
here to get you out of this mess! Just listen
to my brilliant idea. . . .”
I groaned. Not another one of my cousin’s
brilliant ideas! The last time I’d gotten
involved in one of his crazy schemes, I’d
10
11
Saucy
Le
Paws
ended up stuck in a spooky castle in
Transratania!
13S
14R
Trap’s latest brilliant idea came from a
TELEVISION
show.
“I saw this great show last night. It was
one of those real-life mysteries,” he began.
“It took place in the southern seas,
near the Claw Islands. Someone had
The MosT WanTed
Mouse
spotted an island all covered in silver! And
unlike most islands, this one seems to be
moving! We should go looking for it!”
“Not on your life!” I shrieked. “You know
I HATE traveling.”
Trap gave me a SLY smile. “Just think
about it. A little disappearing act might be
good for you,” he advised. “Did you know
the Viking Rats football team is lined up
outside? They haven’t looked this angry
WE WANT
STILTON
since they lost the Super Mouse Bowl. Plus,
the mayor has put you on the Most Wanted
list. I passed ten policemice on my way here.
One was sharpening his teeth with a cheese
shredder!
“Besides, think about the mysterious
island,” he murmured. “My whiskers are
standing on end just thinking about all
that silver! Thea and Benjamin have already
agreed to come.”
Just then, the door
flew
O
pen. It was
my sister, Thea.
“Do you know
that the YELLOW
PAGES are all
wrong?” she
squeaked. “I just
called the
GRAND CHEDDAR HOTEL to book
a weekend with my new sweetie
pie. I got Ratcatraz Prison instead.
They offered me two rooms with a
I couldn’t help but giggle. My
sister goes through sweetie pies
the way a starving rat goes through a
plate of nachos!
“It’s not funny, furbrain!” my sister
scolded me.
Suddenly, a messenger mouse rushed in
with the
six
cups of warm milk and the
soothing yoga tape I had just ordered.
“Um, Mr. Stilton ,” he interrupted.
“Did you know you’ve switched the number
for PIZZA MOUSE with the one for BENT
WHISKERS MEMORIAL ? Last night, I ordered
a pizza and got an ambulance instead. The
15
hospital wants to sue you for
damages!”
Just then, my young nephew
Benjamin raced through the door.
“Uncle, Uncle, I have to tell you something
very important!” he cried. “I checked your
phone book, and it’s full of mistakes! My
school is getting lots of calls asking for a
tattoo parlor. Uncle, do you think I should
get a tattoo? By the way, the principal said
he wants to speak with you.”
I closed my eyes and
counted the holes in
a slice of Swiss. Then
I stood up. “All
right! You win!” I
told Trap. “Let’s go!
Now!”
We leave at daWn
Next morning at dawn, I met everyone on
the beach. Trap was bent over a pump
trying to blow up a huge balloon. It was
purple with yellow dots.
“What on earth is this? Where did you
find it?” I shrieked.
“It’s a hot-air balloon. I got it real
cheap
at the flea market,” my
cousin replied cheerfully.
I rolled my eyes. “I
don’t see why we have
to travel in a hot-air
balloon. And why
did you pick such
a horrible color? It
looks like a giant prune
with freckles!” To be
honest, I was a little
worried. It didn’t seem
like the safest way to
travel. But Thea was
already busy fixing a
hole in the basket.
Benjamin posed in front
of the balloon. “Uncle, would you take my
picture?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear.
Half an hour later, we took off in the
balloon
.
I sat at the bottom of the
basket and began writing in my diary.
6:25 a.m., we have just left the beach at
18
18S
19R
New Mouse City. We are headed west for
the Claw Islands.
Day after day, I wrote down
everything that happened in my
journal. I figured writing would
take my mind off traveling. Did I
mention how much I hate to travel?
Finally, at noon on the eleventh day, we
caught sight of the Claw Islands. Trap
jumped up and down as if he had just won
the Mouse Lotto.
“The silver island should be somewhere
around here! Keep your eyes peeled!” he
shouted. “You, too, Gerry Berry. Although
with your eyes you’d probably have trouble
seeing Santa Mouse on his sleigh!”
“I have excellent eyesight with my glasses
on!” I CRIED, glaring at my cousin.
Minutes later, I was the first to spot the
19
MY
DIARY
I was the first to spot the island.
hate
island. So much for my bad eyes! I cleaned
my glasses to get a clearer view. A dot of
silver swayed back and forth with the
waves. It was the island, all right!
“Look over there!” I shouted with
excitement.
But then something totally strange
happened. Zing! A cannonball flew
by just above my ears!
Zinnnng! Zinnng!
Two more cannonballs brushed