Alex and the Ironic Gentleman

by Adrienne Kress

  “Never,” replied Alex. “It’s wonderful.” She looked up at the sails, shielding her eyes with her hand. “I imagine it must feel a bit like flying when you’re up there,” she added, indicating the crow’s nest.

  De Wit followed her gaze. “Oh, yes, a bit. Except of course your feet are on something solid, and if you were flying they wouldn’t be. But the views are quite something else.” He looked back at Alex. “Would you like to see?”

  Alex looked at him, startled. “Really?” she asked.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes, yes, it is!”

  To climb up to a crow’s nest is more difficult than you would imagine, unless you imagine it would be like climbing up a ladder made of fire and sharp spikes, and then it would be less difficult than you imagine. For one thing, the ropes move, so you feel incredibly unstable. For another, the wind grows fiercer the higher you climb. But when it came to heights and climbing ( both up and down), Alex was fearless, and where you and I would force ourselves not to look down only to do just that and see the deck swimming dangerously far beneath us, Alex just climbed steadily upward, with an occasional glance below to see just how high up she had gone. She easily jumped into the crow’s nest, surprising the skinny Frenchman who was on lookout (“Sacre bleu!” he said). And she and De Wit stared out over the horizon.

  Being in the crow’s nest indeed felt nothing like flying, for, as De Wit had pointed out, they were standing securely. But it did feel like being on a futuristic moving sidewalk in the sky, which was just as much fun. The view was spectacular, and the sun was just setting, and the wind blew their hair wildly about, and it was all completely perfect.

  “You know what?” said De Wit. “We really should have a meeting to discuss our plan of attack.”

  “That’s a really good idea. The sooner the better,” replied Alex, taking a snapshot with her camera of the sun sinking low into the water.

  “I just think it’s terrible what’s happened to Mr. Under-wood. Is he really the great-great-great-grandson of the Infamous Wigpowder?” asked De Wit.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s incredible. You know, I seem to recall an old sea chantey about him . . .” De Wit paused for a moment. And then unexpectedly, but much to Alex’s delight, began to sing.

  The Ballad of the Infamous Wigpowder

  There once was a pirate so feared

  Sailors hid at his mere mention,

  With a name some admitted was weird,

  But certainly got your attention.

  Yes . . .

  Wigpowder was what they did call him,

  And for this he never felt shame,

  He didn’t mind simply because,

  Of course, that always had been his name.

  He was also referred to as “infamous,”

  And this made much sense, you see, ’cause

  It was easy to gather from all that he’d done

  That that’s what he most clearly was.

  He amassed quite a staggering treasure

  That was buried ’way far out to sea,

  That became (for its size beyond measure)

  More infamous even than he.

  There were jewels and gold coins a-plenty

  All tucked away safe for his son—

  His scion, his heir, who, when twenty

  Would inherit the wealth he had won.

  Yes . . .

  Wigpowder was what they did call him

  And for this he never felt shame,

  He didn’t mind simply because,

  Of course, that always had been his name.

  He was also referred to as “infamous,”

  And this made much sense, you see, ’cause

  It was easy to gather from all that he’d done

  That that’s what he most clearly was.

  Now these plans went somewhat awry,

  The treasure, left buried, unfound.

  And somewhere out there it must lie

  Buried still deep under ground.

  You can try all you want to to find it,

  And many a man has done so.

  But the map where directions are writ

  Has vanished a long time ago.

  Plus on cold, windy nights you can hear

  Him yelling his curse to the air;

  His warning to those who seek treasure’s clear:

  “If you’re not a Wigpowder, beware.”

  And . . .

  Wigpowder was what they did call him,

  And for this he never felt shame,

  He didn’t mind simply because,

  Of course, that always had been his name.

  He was also referred to as “infamous,”

  And this made much sense, you see, ’cause

  It was easy to gather from all that he’d done

  That that’s what he most clearly was.

  Yes, he was considered most infamous,

  ’Cause that’s what he obviously was.

  “I think that was how it went,” said De Wit uncertainly.

  “Wow,” said Alex, turning to him. “You are a very good singer.”

  De Wit blushed and looked around. “It’s getting dark. We’d better head back down.”

  The climb down was slightly slower because, well, climbs down are usually slower, unless of course you lose your grip, and then they are much faster. But more painful.

  When they eventually reached the bottom, De Wit said, “I think I’ll gather everyone together for that meeting, then. Shall we say half an hour unless you hear differently?”

  “Sounds perfect,” replied Alex, and she watched De Wit walk away cheerfully. Which made her all the more cheerful. She was having a really wonderful time. Maybe after all this was done she could be a sailor. She imagined that could be a really fun job, having adventures every day and yet never having to leave your own home. She’d have to talk to Mr. Underwood about it. Maybe he would be interested in becoming a sailor as well. She laughed to herself. Although Mr. Underwood was the descendant of a pirate, the image of him on a ship seemed to conflict with her usual image of him standing at the front of a classroom. But maybe it was time for a change for him, too.

  Moments later, with the ship rocking more fiercely than seemed necessary, Alex found herself sitting snug at the Captain’s table with De Wit, Francesca, Shakespeare, Tanaka, and, of course, Magnanimous.

  “Now then,” began Magnanimous, “whereas the action itself is very basic, that is, the rescue of Mr. Underwood, the task is just not that simple. Our main hindrance is of course . . .”

  “The murderous pirates?” asked Shakespeare.

  “I wasn’t going to put it exactly like that, but yes, yes, I suppose they would be, wouldn’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve got word from a man at Lawless that indeed the Ironic Gentleman has made berth there, as anticipated. We sail there, but anchor north along the coastline at the Cave of the Dislocated Thumb, so as not to draw attention, and then send out a small rescue team. I would like this to be led by Tanaka. You may choose your men. Once you have secured Mr. Underwood, you will return to the ship, where we will then plan the next course of action,” finished Magnanimous.

  “And this next plan, of course, would be the finding of treasure,” said Francesca.

  “Well, I don’t think that is our decision to make,” replied Magnanimous, looking at Alex over his glasses.

  Alex sat quietly thoughtful for a moment. She did very much want to go in search of the treasure, but she had always considered the adventure to be hers and Mr. Underwood’s, and not the crew of HMS Valiant’s. She was of course being illogical, she pointed out to herself. After all, she and Mr. Underwood could not very well go after the Wigpowder treasure in a small rowboat or anything. Still the idea of so many people being involved in what had begun as a very private affair, known only to three very special people, was frustrating.

  “I don’t think it is my decision either,” concluded Alex. “We’ll ju
st have to wait and see what Mr. Underwood thinks.”

  The others seemed satisfied with this answer and set about their business. De Wit and Francesca stayed behind with Magnanimous to plot their course, Tanaka cartwheeled toward the hatches to speak with O’Connell, and Alex decided she should probably get some rest.

  As she curled under the covers of her cot, listening to the waves lap against the side of the ship, she felt at home. She really did love living at sea. And she wondered, for the briefest of moments, what would happen when this whole adventure was behind her. Could she really go back to being a schoolgirl on dry land?

  “Never mind that now, Alex,” she said to herself. Giggles opened an eye and looked at her. Alex laughed. “Oh, just go back to being seasick.” And she gave the cat a friendly shove.

  THE THIRTY-THIRD CHAPTER

  In which we anchor at the Cave of the Dislocated Thumb and something unexpected happens.

  The next few days were quite thrilling. During the day, Alex learned to do nautical things like how to tie a series of exciting knots, and Giggles even ventured forth on the deck, only to be chased downstairs by the ship’s dog, a very friendly mongrel belonging to the gunner. In the evenings, O’Connell would play his violin, and they would dance and sing, showing off for one another. De Wit, who had already proven himself a surprisingly good singer, knew many musical theater songs by heart.

  Sometimes after the music, Alex would join O’Connell and Shakespeare at poker. She never really played. The stakes were too high for her. But O’Connell had decided that Alex was a lucky charm, and she enjoyed watching. Then she would go to bed in her comfy cot, with Giggles curled in the small of her back.

  Then, one very foggy day, the Frenchman in the crow’s nest let out the call “Land ho!” (actually, it was more like “Lond ’o,” but never mind). Alex rushed to the side of the deck. It was difficult to see through the fog, but suddenly a dark shadow appeared and then disappeared.

  “Easy now!” called the Captain, approaching O’Connell from behind. “Take her north by northeast, thirty degrees.” O’Connell nodded and spun the wheel. For anyone else it might have been a daunting task in such fog, but Magnanimous anchored the Valiant with ease, after which he gathered his officers and Alex together once again in his cabin.

  It was agreed that Tanaka and O’Connell would go scout out the exact location of the Ironic Gentleman and report back before they all set the plan into motion. There was a nervous hour while they waited for their return, each crew member trying to do their assigned tasks, distracted by their worry over what news Tanaka might bring. Alex watched Magnanimous himself look out of the cabin half a dozen times to ask after the scouts, only to pull his head back inside with a sigh.

  Feeling anxious and not knowing what to do with herself, Alex approached Francesca, who was occasionally peering out through a spyglass into the fog.

  “I can’t believe that this is it,” said Alex, nervously feeling her pocket to see if the toothbrush holder was resting securely.

  “Yes, I know,” replied Francesca, collapsing the spyglass and hanging it at her hip. “I do hope everything goes well. The Captain, he is not fond of complications. That is why he prepares everything so carefully.”

  “Yes. Although I have to say that, in my experience, things rarely go as you expect them to,” said Alex. Francesca nodded. Alex looked down near her hands and saw a large, cheerful orange button. Knowing it would please Francesca to be asked about it, she said, “What does this button do?”

  Francesca looked at the button excitedly and then frowned. “Hmm, I am not sure. I invent so many things that require a button. But this one is big and orange, and I think it is important.”

  With amusement, Alex watched Francesca think. Over the course of their trip Alex had encountered several of Francesca’s buttons. There was the one that was meant to work the machine that made tea, and it did, but it only made Ginger Zest, which was strange as the machine had been stocked with Earl Grey. Then there was the one that worked the swab machine, which was meant to swab the decks for the crew, but it would always be found chatting to the machine in charge of dusting.

  “Oh, I think I remember,” she said snapping her fingers. “The orange button, it’s . . .”

  “Zey’re back!” called the Frenchman.

  Alex and Francesca looked over the side. Tanaka and O’Connell indeed were back, and they were gesturing for a rope. Magnanimous raced over to help them on deck.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Captain, we have a problem,” said Tanaka, taking deep breaths.

  “Problem? Did they see you?” asked Magnanimous.

  “No,” replied Tanaka. “There was no one to see me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I think he means that the Ironic Gentleman wasn’t there,” interjected Alex. She was getting so used to disappointment that she could interpret the problem instantaneously.

  “Exactly,” said Tanaka, nodding at Alex. “The ship was nowhere to be seen. We went ashore, talked to a waitress of The Disreputable Landlord. She said the Ironic Gentleman had left early this morning. We missed her, Captain. We just missed her.”

  Captain Magnanimous hit the deck rail with his fist. “So close!” he said. “This changes everything.” He sat next to Tanaka. “Did the waitress have any idea where they were headed?”

  “She didn’t.”

  “Well,” said Magnanimous. He seemed shaken. “Well. We need to revise our plan completely, then.” He stood up and looked around. “Yes, well. Right now, I need to think. I need to be alone.” And he turned and went to his cabin, waving aside De Wit, who had placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Will he be okay?” asked Alex.

  “Don’t you worry now,” said O’Connell. “He’s a smart man. He’ll figure something out.”

  Alex nodded.

  “Well, we’d better get back to work,” said Francesca, and she and the men wandered off in their separate directions.

  Alex turned and stared out into the fog, which had lifted somewhat around the ship. It was a little unnerving seeing Magnanimous upset. She hadn’t realized how much faith she had put in him until she saw him so unsure. The Captain had seemed more than a mere man, but now was all too human. Alex wondered if there was any conceivable way of tracking down the Ironic Gentleman. Where could it possibly have been headed? She had no idea, and it seemed the Navy had no idea either. It was a very rare thing for someone to seek out the Ironic Gentleman intentionally. Steele was the one who typically did the seeking. So then, how to hunt the hunters? Perhaps . . . she leaned against the rail. Perhaps . . . and she thought back to something Coriander had once suggested.

  Alex raced across the deck and burst into the Captain’s cabin. Magnanimous was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands. He looked up, startled. “Alex? Can I help you?”

  “Captain, what if instead of trying to find them, we get them to find us!”

  “Sorry?” replied Magnanimous.

  Alex drew up a chair to the other side of his desk. “We let it slip to someone that we have the Wigpowder treasure map and we’re looking for the treasure, find ourselves a good spot—that would be your job, of course—and then wait for them to find us!” she said triumphantly.

  Captain Magnanimous looked at Alex for a moment. “That might work,” he said slowly.

  “I think it would.”

  Magnanimous smiled his fabulous smile. “Alex, you are amazing! Not only is this a good idea, it is a fantastic idea.”

  Alex blushed slightly. “Thank you.”

  Magnanimous hit the table with his hand, but this time it was a positive sign.

  “Okay, so we’ll send Tanaka back to The Disreputable Landlord and get him to slip the news. But first we’ve got to figure out where we should make anchor that would suit us best. Excellent! Alex, fetch the officers immediately,” instructed Magnanimous.

  Alex smiled broadly and quickly went to obey his orders. She found D
e Wit first, starboard side. He turned and smiled when he saw her.

  “The Captain is . . .” Alex stopped suddenly.

  “The Captain is . . . ?” asked De Wit. “Is this a game? Oh, let’s see. The Captain is . . . nice? The Captain is . . . brave? The Captain is . . .”

  “No, no,” said Alex holding up a hand. She was looking out into the fog. “I thought I saw something.”

  De Wit looked over her shoulder. “Where?”

  “There.” Alex pointed.

  “I don’t see any . . . Wait. Did you hear that?”

  “What?”

  De Wit stepped forward and squinted into the fog. Suddenly he spun back to Alex, “Get down, now!” he shouted and pushed her to the deck. A cannonball crashed through the deck rail and dropped into the hatch. A blur of motion, and De Wit was back on his feet. Alex jumped up to join him and nearly collapsed again from shock. Charging them from the cover of the fog, like a bull with a toreador’s cape impaled on its horns, was a large brig painted black, her deep red sails filling with wind.

  “That i-isn’t,” she stuttered.

  “That is,” replied De Wit. “All men on deck!!” he cried loudly and ran to the Captain’s cabin.

  Alex stood staring at the ship, rigid with distress. It was coming for them at an impossible speed, and it didn’t seem all that bothered that it was about to crash into the Valiant. Alex watched the bowsprit fly toward her like a lance, and she momentarily thought she was about to be skewered, when the ship suddenly turned to broadside, and it was when it did, that if Alex had any doubt as to who was attacking them, it was quickly resolved. There, in the same red as the sails, passing in front of her like the opening credits of some horrible film, was the word Gentleman followed closely by Ironic.

  THE THIRTY-FOURTH CHAPTER

  In which a fierce battle is fought.

  The attack was quick and merciless. Where it had come from and how it had found them was anyone’s guess, but no sooner had the Ironic Gentleman come alongside them than Captain Magnanimous swung into action, literally, grabbing a rope and propelling himself onto the deck. Alex watched him barking orders, sending O’Connell to the helm and the gunner below decks. There was only so much they could do, taken by surprise in this way. De Wit and Francesca braced themselves for boarding, and Alex, trying to stay out of the way, hid herself behind the stairs to the forecastle. Peering through the steps, she watched in horror as the action unfolded in front of her.