“SOMEBODY HELP!” screamed Elsie. Her voice echoed across the ice.
In the distance, she could see a handful of the Chelsea Pensioners in their distinctive scarlet coats and tricorne hats coming to the rescue!
Titch was leading from the front.
Under their arms the old soldiers were holding a thick rope, which snaked its way across the ice back to the ship.
Above their heads, the Zeppelin was circling for another attack.
“DIE, MONSTER, DIE!” yelled Buckshot.
RAT TAT TAT TAT TAT!
The machine gun blasted. Another hail of bullets sent shards of ice flying into the air.
KABOOM!
Slowly, the Zeppelin began coming round again to make another attack.
“THROW ME THE ROPE!” called out Elsie. The mammoth was sinking fast. Now only the tips of her tusks were bobbing out of the icy water. Elsie hooked the end of the rope round one of the tusks and tied it tight.
“HEAVE!” she ordered.
The old soldiers all gripped the rope and heaved as hard as they could, just managing to pull the mammoth’s head out of the water.
The animal spluttered, and let out a deafening “HOO!”
Aboard HMS Victory it was all hands on deck, as the remaining pensioners took the end of the rope.
On the admiral’s count…
“On three. One, two, three. Heave!”
…they all heaved, lifting the mammoth up and out of the freezing water. Woolly landed with a terrific thump on the ice.
DOOF!
“HOO!” she sighed.
“YES!” shouted Elsie. Looking behind Woolly, she saw two arcs of policemen and military policemen closing in on them. “LIFT THE SAILS!” she called out.
“Excuse me, young lady!” called back the admiral. “I am in charge of this ship!”
“All right, then! You say it!”
“LIFT THE SAILS!”
As the magnificent sails of HMS Victory were hoisted for the first time in years…
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOOSH!
…the gang on the ice pushed the mammoth back on to her feet.
“GO! GO! GO!” called out Elsie. She led the way across the ice to the ship, holding on to her friend so the mammoth would not slip.
In the sky, the Zeppelin was hovering round into position for yet another attack.
Behind the machine gun, Lady Buckshot had the mammoth in her sights once again.
“URGH!” screamed Titch as he clutched his stomach and sank to his knees.
“NOOOO!” screamed Dotty from the stern of HMS Victory. “TITCH!”
“Titch! No! Have you been hit?” asked Elsie.
“No. I’ve just got a stitch,” he replied. Then in his most heroic tone he announced, “I’m not going to make it. You go on without me. Leave me here on the ice to die.”
“Die? Titch! You’ve only got a stitch!”
“It’s a bad one. A really bad one. But promise me one thing, young Elsie?”
“What, Titch?”
“Tell Dotty that… . Urgh!” He clutched himself again.
Elsie shook her head. She might be the child here, but so often she felt more grown up than the grown-ups.
“You tell her, Titch!” said the girl, hooking her arm under his.
“What’s happened to my darling?” called out Dotty from the ship.
“Titch has a stitch!” replied Elsie. Then the girl turned her attention back to the private. “Now stop being silly, Titch. Stitch or no stitch, we’re all getting on that ship.”
“I’ll do my best, young miss.”
The wind billowed the sails, and the ship’s hull began creaking in the ice.
CRUNCH!
A huge ramp was lowered from HMS Victory, landing on the ice with a BOSH!
“WOOLLY FIRST!” shouted Elsie as she gathered the handful of pensioners to get behind the animal and push her up the ramp by her bottom.
As the boat rocked in the breaking ice, the ramp wobbled from side to side.
“HOOO!” hooted the mammoth.
“Nearly there, my friend!” called out Elsie, as she used all her might to make the final push over into the ship.
THUMP!
The wooden deck buckled a little under the mammoth’s weight.
“HOOO!”
“HURRAH!” cried all on board, overjoyed that their large, hairy friend had made it.
Above HMS Victory, the Zeppelin was flying low.
“NOW I’VE GOT YOU, Ice Monster!” came a cry from the gondola.
RAT! TAT! TAT! TAT! TAT! TAT!
All the old soldiers hit the deck as HMS Victory was riddled with bullets.
POW! POW! POW!
“I’VE BEEN HIT!” yelled the admiral.
Dotty rushed over to him.
“Where?”
“MY LEG!”
“Which one?”
“The wooden one.”
Indeed, there was a bullet lodged in there.
“Is it bleeding?” asked Dotty.
“Yes. Very badly.”
“I can’t see any blood!”
“No, it’s just sawdust.”
“Are you feeling any pain?”
“None at all. But I’m not going to let that blasted woman get away with this!”
With its sails in full bloom, HMS Victory began forcing its way through the ice.
A cold and wet Elsie looked over the stern of the ship to see who was still following. In the distance, she could see something shaped like a sail speeding along the ice, overtaking the policemen. As it came closer, she realised the sail was multicoloured. It was, in fact, the balloon they had made of handkerchiefs (and one pair of bloomers).
“What…?” she muttered to herself.
It was only when the balloon got closer that she spotted the professor underneath it! He had attached the sail to his wheelchair, and was using the power of the wind to drag himself along.
“YOU CAN’T PUT A GREAT MAN DOWN!” he called out. With one hand, he was steering the sail. In the other, he was holding the dart gun.
“I HAVE COME TO TAKE MY MONSTER BACK! THIS IS REVENGE!”
“Oh no!” said Dotty. “This never ends!” she called out to the admiral. “Faster! Faster!”
“It’s the ice!” the man called back. “It’s so thick we can’t go any faster!”
“LOOK!” She pointed to the professor.
“Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone,” replied the admiral, setting a course straight for the newly built Tower Bridge.
Looking across to the riverbanks, Elsie noticed that London had woken up, and crowds were beginning to line the banks of the Thames. Much to her surprise, Londoners began clapping and cheering. They were clearly delighted to see this magnificent beast, the mammoth, brought back to life. And aboard Nelson’s old warship no less.
“HURRAH!”
But there was a big problem. HMS Victory’s masts were too tall to fit under the bridge.
“We’re not going to make it, Admiral!” called out Titch from the bow of the ship.
“We need to get that bridge open!” the admiral called back.
Elsie spotted a group of a dozen children loitering on the bridge. The unmistakable figures of the .
“ELSIE!” they shouted on seeing her.
“OPEN THE BRIDGE!” she shouted back. “UP! UP!”
Immediately, the gang began scaling the bridge to find the control room.
The Zeppelin was now just behind the ship, and gaining on them. Fast.
CLUNK! WHIRR!
Also gaining was the professor, who fired a poisoned dart.
PING!
It lodged into Buckshot’s pith helmet.
“LOOK WHERE YOU’RE SHOOTING, YOU RUDDY FOOL, OR I’LL BLAST YOU TO SMITHEREENS!” she cried.
“THEN GET THAT PREPOSTEROUS CONTRAPTION OUT OF MY WAY!”
The professor fired again. This time the dart struck the Zeppelin’s huge envelope of gas.
&nbs
p; PPPFFFFFT!
There was a loud farting noise as air began escaping.
In a fury, Buckshot trained her machine gun on the professor.
RAT! TAT! TAT! TAT! TAT! TAT!!
“MISSED!” called out the professor.
“CHECK YOUR WHEELCHAIR, YOU OLD FOOL!”
He looked down. Indeed, she had blasted it out of existence. The professor was now skidding across the ice on his bottom.
In all the commotion, what neither had noticed was that Tower Bridge was beginning to rise.
The front mast of HMS Victory just clipped one of the sides of the bridge as it opened.
SCRAPE!
“HURRAH!” shouted the soldiers on the ship as HMS Victory passed under the magnificent bridge.
“HOOO!” hooted Woolly, joining in.
The admiral looked round to see not only Lady Buckshot looming right behind him in the Zeppelin, but also the professor skimming along the ice at the stern.
“Order those scallywags to lower the bridge. Quick smart!” ordered the admiral.
“DOWN! DOWN!” shouted the girl to her friends.
Right on cue, the bridge began to lower.
The machine gun blasted, once again ripping through the hull of the Victory.
RAT! TAT! TAT! TAT! TAT! TAT!
At the bottom of the Zeppelin, Lady Buckshot hollered her instructions to the pilot. “UP! UP!”
“Darn!” said the admiral. “She’s not going to fall for it!”
A tethering cable was dangling down from the airship. Using her trunk, Woolly grabbed hold of the end.
“HOOO!”
“WOOLLY?” exclaimed Elsie in delight. This was one smart mammoth.
As the engines of the Zeppelin roared, the mammoth used all her strength to pull the flying machine down.
“HELP HER!” called out Elsie, and the old soldiers rushed to hold on to Woolly to stop her being pulled into the air.
“NOOO!” screamed Lady Buckshot, as the Zeppelin crashed straight into the bridge.
SMASH!
The envelope full of gas exploded in the air.
KABOOM!
“ARGH!” she cried as her gondola plunged right on to the professor, sending them both down into the icy waters of the Thames.
GURGLE! GURGLE! GURGLE!
PLOP! PLOP! PLOP!
GLUG! GLUG! GLUG!
“HURRAH!” shouted everyone on board the Victory.
“HOOO!” hooted Woolly.
The all waved goodbye to Elsie.
“GOOD LUCK!” they shouted.
“THANK YOU!” she called back. “WE’LL NEED IT!”
The admiral addressed his crew. “Now, men, set sail for the North Pole!”
“Which way is the North Pole, sir?” piped up Titch.
“Straight ahead, men!” commanded the admiral, pointing downriver. “Then when we reach the sea make a left!”
Just as the mammoth’s arrival into the city had been a cause of great excitement, its departure was proving even more so. Word had spread fast, and soon it seemed like every Londoner was running along the banks of the Thames, eager to be part of this awfully big adventure. The proud old admiral saluted them, which made the crowds cheer loudly.
“HURRAH!”
“HOOOO!” called out Woolly as she appeared to wave with her trunk.
This made the crowds go wild.
“HURRAH!”
It was a happy scene, and put joy into the hearts of all on board the Victory.
Titch sidled up to Dotty.
“I was very nearly a goner,” he said.
“What happened, my love? I thought you’d been shot!” she replied.
“It was much, much worse than that. A stitch.”
“A stitch?”
“Yes. A really bad stitch can be deadly.”
“I didn’t know that,” replied the lady. “Maybe I need to kiss it better. Where does it hurt?”
The old soldier pointed to his lips. “Here.”
They kissed. It was the shortest, sweetest kiss in the history of kisses. But the long-awaited meeting of their lips felt like fireworks to them, and they both looked light-headed as soon as they parted.
“I think I need a sit-down,” said Dotty.
“I think I need a lie-down,” said Titch.
“This is no time for kissing, sailors!” commanded the admiral. “We have a ship to sail!”
As he gave his orders, the men went to work. Soon HMS Victory picked up speed, and began slicing through the ice with ease. As the ship sailed through east London, getting nearer to the sea, the ice became thinner. HMS Victory began sailing faster and faster, until it passed out of the Thames Estuary and into the open sea.
“HURRAH!” cried the pensioners.
“HOOO!” cried Woolly.
“Port side!” ordered the admiral. This was the nautical term for the left side.
Waves were now hitting the ship, causing it to sway from side to side. The mammoth had installed herself at the prow like an unofficial figurehead. Her trunk dangled down and covered the actual figurehead, which was a royal shield and a crown with a cherub on each side.
Elsie sidled up next to her friend. “Looking north again?” she said. The girl gazed out across the endless sea. The North Pole was thousands of miles away. “We’ll get you home, Woolly. I promise.”
With that, she stroked one of the mammoth’s big furry ears. Woolly gently pushed her body against the girl as a way of saying thank you.
“HOO!” she cooed.
Days passed at sea. HMS Victory sailed round the furthest tip of Scotland, and found herself alone in the deepest, darkest North Sea.
Weeks passed. As the ship travelled north, the sea grew rougher and rougher. Waves as tall as trees crashed over the Victory.
SPLISH!
SPLASH!
SPLOSH!
Everyone had to work together to stop the ship from sinking. Even Woolly. The mammoth hosed up the pools of water on the deck with her trunk, and sprayed them back overboard.
Another night descended on the Victory as at last they passed into calmer waters. The pensioners worked in shifts, and slept in the bunks below deck. Woolly was too large to fit, so when it was time to sleep Elsie stayed with her. Just like at the hospital, the pair of best friends snuggled up together.
“Goodnight, Woolly,” Elsie would say.
“HOO!” Woolly would reply, which if translated from mammoth language means “Goodnight, Elsie”. The girl would tuck herself in under the soft fur of Woolly’s belly. The mammoth would then shuffle her legs together to protect her friend from the cold. Woolly made the softest, comfiest bed, and at night, as they lay together, Elsie felt that she was home. Looking up, she could see the diamond dust of stars in the sky.
Everything seemed so perfect.
It couldn’t last.
And it didn’t.
“SHIPS AHOY!” came the cry one morning from the crow’s nest of the Victory.
All the old soldiers scrambled to the stern of the ship. There they jostled, eager to glimpse what their comrade at the top of the mast had seen. The sound of footsteps had woken up Elsie and Woolly too, and they joined the line of pensioners. The admiral took out his telescope.
A fleet of metal steamships stretched out across the horizon.
“How many, Admiral?” asked Titch.
“A dozen, I would say.”
“Can we outrun them?” asked Elsie.
“We can darn well try!”
“Hurrah!” shouted the men.
“HOO!” joined in Woolly.
The admiral called out his orders, to make this old ship go as fast as she possibly could.
HMS Victory felt as if it were taking flight as it soared across the sea.
Yet even at full speed it was no match for the modern steamships.
“They’re gaining on us!” yelled Elsie.
“We’re going at full speed!” replied the admiral. “Prepare the cannons!”
“With respect, Admiral, sir,” piped up Titch, “we can’t fire on our fellow countrymen!”
“No, you’ve got a point there,” mused the admiral. “We’ll be hanged as traitors.”
“There must be something we can do!” exclaimed Elsie. “How many barrels of gunpowder have we got?”
Dotty counted them. “One, two, four, three, four, nine, three, seven, um, erm, six. A lot!” Counting was not her strong suit.
“A lot. Thank you, Dotty. I can count a dozen. A dozen barrels. What if we rolled them out to sea?”
“That’s the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard, child! What a waste of jolly good gunpowder!” replied the admiral.
“I haven’t finished yet!”
“OOH!” cooed the pensioners.
“I will have no ‘oohing’ on my ship!” thundered the admiral. “Do you understand me? Once you let sailors all ‘ooh’ at one another, heaven knows where it will lead!”
The old men nodded, still smirking at their own naughtiness.
“HOO!” called out Woolly.
“And less of your cheek, please,” said the admiral to the mammoth.
“What I was going to say,” continued Elsie, “is that we should roll out the barrels one by one. Then we wait until the ships close in. Then whoever is the best shot takes one of those muskets and shoots them.”
“Shooting your own gunpowder?” thundered the admiral. “I have never heard such poppycock!”
“With respect, sir,” began Titch timidly, “I think the girl is on to something. It will create a smokescreen!”
“A smokescreen?” spluttered the admiral.
“Yes! Then we will have a chance of losing the ships.”
“Right, men, and erm, ladies, change tack,” boomed the old sailor.
“When I give the order ‘now’, I want you to roll a barrel into the sea. Titch?”
“Yes, Admiral?”
“Do you know your way around a musket?”
“Well, I, er, um, the thing is…” He hesitated. The man was nervous. Only having the one medal (which was for service, the one all soldiers received), he had never thought of himself as a hero.
The Ice Monster Page 12
