“Ruffians!” exclaimed this important-looking rat, and marched over to Peter. Peter looked down at him, taking in the blue uniform with gold buttons and braid, and the shiny black arched hat.

      “I guess you’re the navy,” said Peter slowly. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

      “Well done, sir,” exclaimed the rat. “Captain Erasmus Rattus at your service, of His Majesty’s Royal Ratship Tumblewheel. Currently on an anti-piracy cruise.”

      “They took my DVDs,” said Peter. “Four horrible pirates! One had an eyepatch.”

      “The scurvy knaves!” exclaimed Captain Rattus angrily. “If coming up Topside ain’t bad enough, it’s pirating videos as well. What’s your name, lad?”

      “Peter,” said Peter.

      “A goodly name,” said the captain. “Like the Blue Peter flag we fly when we’re leaving port. That’s a name for adventure, that is. I expect you’ll be wanting to come with us to recover your cargo?”

      “Cargo?” asked Peter. “What cargo?”

      “The DVDs!” cried Captain Rattus. “Why, if we don’t catch those pirates soon, they’ll be turning those DVDs into Frisbees and earrings and coasters and trading them for gold and ivory. They’re probably almost back to their ship by now. Are you coming with us?”

      He pointed at the open drain and the sailor rats started to jump down, one after the other. Soon there was only the captain and Peter left. Peter looked at the hole and thought of the lost DVDs.

      “I’m too big to get down there,” he said finally. He didn’t know if he wanted to go or not. He did like the sound of an adventure, but he wasn’t sure about all these rats.

      “Too big?” muttered Captain Rattus. “We’ll soon fix that. Where’s the doctor!”

      “Here, sir!” piped up a rat Peter hadn’t even noticed. An unobtrusive rat in a scruffy brown coat, who was lurking way back near another drain. He hurried over, pulled out a monocle, stuck it in his eye and peered up at Peter.

      “Doctor Abednego Norvegicus at your service,” he said. “I take it that this is a matter of shrinkage, captain?”

      “Shrinking!” corrected the captain. “Peter here wants to sign on for the duration.”

      “Oh, I’m not sure if that’s exactly—” said Peter anxiously. “The duration” sounded like a very long time. “Well, as long as it takes to recover his cargo or when he gets sick of it then,” said the captain. “So if you could please shrink him down immediately, doctor, that would be most agreeable.”

      “Hmmm,” said the doctor, looking up at Peter and making estimating motions with his arms. “How old are you, Peter?”

      “Nine,” said Peter. “In July.”

      “Very well,” said the doctor. “Since I haven’t a potion or the necessary lotion in the quantities you would require, it will have to be a spell.”

      Chapter Four

      “A spell?” asked the captain. His nose twitched and he muttered, “Mumbo jumbo hocus pocus—”

      “Not that spell, Captain!” exclaimed the doctor, raising one pink paw in protest.

      “I didn’t know that was a spell,” said the captain. “I’ll just nip down this hole while you get on with it.”

      He’d no sooner finished speaking than he was gone, his magnificently long tail trailing behind him for a full half-second.

      “Is this shrinking spell dangerous?” asked Peter, who was having second thoughts about the whole adventure. “Maybe I should just tell Mum I lost the DVDs…”

      “It’s not dangerous at all,” said the doctor soothingly, as he rummaged in his waistcoat for a piece of chalk. Having found it, he quickly inscribed some magic marks on Peter’s white trainers. Since the chalk was white too, Peter couldn’t see the marks, but the doctor seemed satisfied.

      “Now, I shall utter the spell,” said the doctor. He reached up over his head as if he were pegging out washing. “You may want to close your eyes, Peter. Being shrunk sometimes makes people vomit if they look.”

      Peter nodded, but he didn’t shut his eyes. He was never sick, not even on the Planet Freefall ride at the Easter Show, which everyone called the Chucker-Upper.

      The doctor started making strange motions with his paws, then began to dance anticlockwise around Peter, stopping every few steps to stamp his feet.

      “Widdershins, widdershins, baker’s man (stomp stomp)

      Make this boy as small as you can (stomp stomp)

      But like the dough that makes the bread (stomp stomp)

      He’ll rise again when the words are said!” (stomp stomp)

      The doctor finished with a surprising triple spin that sent his tail whipping round in a circle. Then he lowered his arms as if he were trying to drag Peter down without actually touching him.

      At first, the boy felt nothing; then the whole world went blurry and everything started to twist and roll around him. He felt himself shrinking, the cars growing taller and taller around him. The doctor loomed up past his waist, past his shoulders, and then the rat was standing right next to him and they were exactly the same size.

      “You didn’t throw up,” said Doctor Norvegicus. He sounded surprised and disappointed.

      “Mmppphhh,” said Peter, who was doing his best not to be sick after all.

      “Ah, all rat-sized, shipshape and Bristol fashion!” declared the captain, poking his nose out of the drain. “Let’s get below!”

      Chapter Five

      Still holding his mouth closed, Peter followed the doctor to the drain. He’d expected it to be just a small concrete tunnel full of water, but there was actually a very deep hole and a rope ladder that descended into darkness. The captain was standing on one of the upper rungs, consulting a pocket chronometer and a thick book with very thin pages.

      “Look sharp!” he ordered. “This hole will close in a few minutes.”

      Without waiting, the captain started down. Peter and the doctor followed quickly. It wasn’t until they were about fifty rungs down that Peter felt better and dared to open his mouth.

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