The cats raced outside. The noise was coming from out of sight. "That's Syrie," Erik exclaimed, running after Munkustrap. The cats skidded around pile of junk, eventually reaching the terrified kit. "He's out there, he's after me," she wailed. "Who's out there?" Erik asked, standing over her. "The tall ginger cat," she whimpered. "Macavity," Mungojerrie snarled. The toms formed up around Demeter and Syrie, back to back so they could not be snuck up on. Munkustrap whistled the high pitched alarm. The first cat to reach them was Skimbleshanks. "What's going on," He asked, covering Munkustrap's exposed flank. "Syrie says she saw a ginger cat out there," the protector muttered. Skimble sniffed the air. "I can't smell Macavity," he frowned. Mungojerrie sniffed the air. The smell of salt water, rum and African spices was carried on the wind. "It's not him," Mungojerrie muttered. Skimble suddenly smiled broadly. "Morgan. Morgan is that you?" he called out. "ello brother," came the reply in a thick Estuary Accent as the speaker emerged into the moonlight.
Cat Morgan had been a pirate in his younger days, though now he lived in "Faber and Faber," Publishing house, in Bloomsbury, where he worked as a doorman of sorts. Where Skimble was fatherly, responsible, polite and smart his brother was more of a rebel. A scar on his face told of a run in with the royal navy in the Mediterranean, while his left ear had a slice taken out of it by another water cat off the Barbary Coast. His ginger coat however was well cleaned and cared for and overall the appearance was one of roguish smartness. All in all he was not an unpleasant looking tom, and as he put it "some of the gals is dead keen on old Morgan." His mate was a slightly younger queen named Honoria that he had met in Africa. Though they once had been, Morgan and Honoria were no longer really considered part of the Jellicle Tribe. Despite this he sometimes attended the balls and his weather beaten face and old tricorn hat were a welcome sight when they chose to show themselves.
Munkustrap and Skimble move forward to greet the long absent tom, who dropped the sack he was carrying and shook their paws vigorously. "Sorry I couldn't make it ter the ball," he exclaimed, clapping his brother on the shoulders. "Yer know 'ow it is. They 'ad some posh party on that night 'nd needed me on the door." "Of course," Skimble laughed, hugging his brother tightly. "And 'oose this?" Morgan asked, approaching Erik. The black cat growled menacingly. Morgan stopped in his tracks. "Not friendly I take it?" he asked Skimble. "Morgan's a friend Erik," the ginger tabby exclaimed. Erik's fur relaxed. "Delighted to meet you," he said, though still shielding Syrie with his body.
The Calico kitten stuck her head out from around her big brother. "You smell funny," she declared. Morgan shrugged. A life on piracy on the high seas had left him with a fondness for rum and certain exotic spices. Combined with the scent of salt water that was ingrained into him, he had a peculiar smell. He smiled at the kitten. "Yes I do, don't I?" he replied, crouching down to look her in the face. "And oo' are you?" he asked. "I'm Syrie," the little kit declared happily.
Mungojerrie padded back into the centre of the yard with the others. The kittens came bounding out of their dens, eager to greet "Uncle Morgan." The water cat was almost as popular among the younger cats as Rum Tum Tugger, because of his roguish lifestyle and fantastical stories. The pirate swept Etcetera off her feet, spinning the fluff ball around. "Great ter see you lot again mateys," he proclaimed as the trio of kittens familiar with him pushed him over, enveloping the cat in kitteny warmth. Munkustrap stooped down, retrieving the ginger tom from the pile of cats.
"Thanks mate," Morgan laughed as he brushed himself down. Jennyanydots emerged from her den excitedly, throwing her arms around her brother in law. "You're back," she simpered. "Skimble and I have been so worried." She frowned up at the larger cat. "Never do that to us again," she scowled. Morgan grinned crookedly back at her. "Come on darlin'. Yer can't stay mad at old Morgan," Skimble's younger brother grinned. She batted him on the nose.
"I've brought yer some gifts," Morgan declared, opening the bag he was carrying. The first things out were some toys for the kittens, stuffed mice and the like. Then came the food. As well as a couple of bottles of scotch, which he handed to his delighted brother, and a bottle of brandy which went to the equally pleased Old Deuteronomy, he had potted grouse, a couple of braces of partridges and a huge tub of Devonshire cream, along with a cold salmon. "Where did you get this stuff?" Jellyorum asked. "I know a tom what works in the market," Morgan explained. "He's a dap 'and at procuring certain items for me." Skimble examined the whisky. "This is expensive stuff," he mused. "What are you up to?" Morgan shifted. "We want back in," he finally exclaimed. "What?" Bombalurina asked in surprise. "Me and 'onoria miss being part of the tribe. 'aving somewhere to come when yer want to g't away from yor 'umans. The feelin' of 'aving uver toms backing you up. 'aving a proper family. I ffought that maybe if I brought some goods to smooth stuff over, yer might be more inclined to let us back in." Old Deuteronomy laughed. "Of course you're welcome Morgan," he boomed, his laughter echoing around the junkyard. "We've missed having you around. Your old den is still unoccupied if you want it back, or there are some other if you fancy." Morgan looked around at them, taking his hat off and wiping his forehead. "Yor serious, are yer?" the ex-pirate asked. "Just like that?" Skimble but his arm around his brother's shoulders as the kittens cuddled up to their uncle. "Welcome home brother," the railway cat said.
Just as a note, this character is not original. Cat Morgan is the titular character of "Cat Morgan Introduces Himself," a poem from "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats," the anthology which CATS is based on. That the poem and character don't appear in the show has always seemed strange to me, so I have corrected the problem here. Sorry about the accent, but that's how the poem is written. Please tell me if there's anything I could do to make it better. I was going for a sort of Estuary/ Cockney feel, as that is the voice he has in the poem. The name Honoria is taken from "By Jeeves," another Andrew Lloyd Webber show.