by Gareth Jones
Hearing the heavy footfall of soldiers boarding the ship, Pendle grabbed the nearest cutlass and ran up the steps to the deck two at a time. “For the Leaky Battery!” she cried, waving the cutlass in the air, catching one soldier unaware and sending him overboard. Her victory was short-lived though. When three more soldiers surrounded her, she had no choice but to surrender.
“I say, is it safe to come aboard now?” asked Admiral Fussington from the other ship. “Quite safe,” replied Sergeant Thudchump. “There’s no one here except for the cabin boy.” Admiral Fussington walked across a plank laid between the two ships and primly stepped on to the deck of the Leaky Battery. He peered down at Pendle, who hastily tucked in her hair and hid her eyes under her cap. “Ah yes, the young lad who prefers the company of faulty machinery to that of his fellow human beings,” said Admiral Fussington. “These machines have more heart than you,” replied Pendle.
“Sergeant Thudchump. Lock up this young tyke.” “Yes, sir.” A burly soldier dragged Pendle down into the hold and thrust her into the cell with Mainspring. Admiral Fussington followed them down the steps. Sergeant Thudchump locked the door and hung the key on a hook on the far wall. “I say,” said the admiral, “what’s wrong with that one?” He pointed at Mainspring, who was completely still, his key having stopped moving altogether. “Conked out,” said Pendle. “That’s why they left him behind.” “Well, don’t worry, the rest of your friends will be the same soon enough. Then we’ll take you all back to England where you’ll be punished for piracy and treason.
Yes, I’m afraid you’ve thrown your lot in with the wrong crew, my lad.” “I’d rather live freely for a day than spend a hundred years as a slave,” replied Pendle. “We will resist.” Admiral Fussington looked at her, amused. “You’re a rum young fellow, aren’t you? What a shame you didn’t put all that energy to better use.” “I blame the parents,” said Sergeant Thudchump. “Yes.” Admiral Fussington nodded. “No doubt they were quite the wrong sort of people altogether. Am I right?” “Something like that,” replied Pendle. Admiral Fussington laughed. “Yes, it’s always the way. I have a daughter around your age but, unlike you, she has been
brought up with discipline and respect for her elders. She is seen but not heard.” “It sounds like you would rather your daughter was an obedient machine than a free-thinking human being,” said Pendle. “Shall I strike him?” offered Sergeant Thudchump. “Don’t waste your energy.” Admiral Fussington replied. “Keep an eye on the boy, though. I want to make an example of him when we return home.”
CHAPTER 14
In which the Steampunk Pirates find themselves facing the very real possibility that the fabled ghost train is coming to collect them.
Some sounds are very easy to identify. Everyone knows that cows go moo, cats go meow and dogs go woof. Other sounds are more unique. For example, a group of steam-powered buccaneers panicking as the room slowly fills up with thick gold paint, sounds something like this:
The pirates had repeatedly tried to bash down both the door at the top of the stairs and the one which they had entered through, but neither would budge. The gold paint had now reached waist height and it was showing no signs of stopping. “It’s no good,” said Quartermaster Lexi. “We’re all going to be drowned!” “Maybe Twitter will find a way out,” said Captain Clockheart. The parrot landed on his shoulder and squawked, “No, I won’t! We’re all going to die!”
Captain Clockheart silenced him with a clout around the back of the head, sending the bird flying against the wall then splashing into the pool of gold paint. “There’s no more to be done,” proclaimed Gadge, “except to raise our cutlasses and our voices and sing of the day we’ll meet again in the big melting pot in the sky.” He began to bang his chest, then threw his head back and sang a mournful melody.
They say there’s a ghost train, Enormous and black, That doesn’t need coal, Nor run on a track. They say there’s a ghost train, And I’ve heard it’s true, One day that train will stop, Just for you.
“That’s quite enough of that miserable nonsense,” barked Captain Clockheart, whacking Gadge on the head. “Besides, if there really is a ghost train then I won’t fret till I hear the clatter of its wheels.” Right on cue, a strange noise came from the other side of the door. It sounded just like the clickerty-click of an approaching train. “Hark. Here it comes,” said Gadge, “the ghost train to take us to our final destination.” Clickerty-tick. Captain Clockheart pushed his way to the front and listened at the door. “That’s no train,” he said. “Then what is it?” asked Gadge. The door suddenly opened and a tide
of gold paint spilled out, creating a golden stream down the side of the hill that sparkled in the sunlight. “Clickerty-click, how are you?” asked First Mate Mainspring, holding the door open. “Mainspring! Well, thank you for introducing me to a genuinely new experience,” said Captain Clockheart. “Tickerty-tick, what’s that, Captain?” “Being pleased to see you. Just in the nick of time, too! How did you get here?”
Sorry for this final interruption, but the author of this work wonders if you might want to know how First Mate Mainspring got off the Leaky Battery.
Locked in the cage below deck, Pendle knew she only had to turn the large key on Mainspring’s back in order to escape. But Sergeant Thudchump wasn’t taking his eyes off her for a second. Pendle didn’t even consider the option of revealing her true identity. Death sentence or not, she would
have chosen being a cabin boy over an admiral’s daughter any day of the week. The sound of footsteps above caused the sergeant’s eyes to twitch. Then, when he heard the clash of conflict from the deck, he leaped up like a startled meerkat. “All hands on deck,” cried a voice up above. “We’re under attack.” “Don’t move,” ordered the burly sergeant, before scrambling up the ladder. Pendle didn’t waste any time. She grabbed Mainspring’s key and wound him up. “Click, shiver me sails. Tick, hoist the timbers. Tock, what’s going on?” Mainspring rubbed his eyes sockets. “We’ve been boarded by the admiral’s men and now the ship’s under attack,” replied Pendle.
Mainspring raised his hand to his ear then said, “Click, that’s the sound of spears. Tick, not swords. Tock, and those battle cries ain’t in no European language.” “It must be islanders,” said Pendle, “but how do we get out of this cage? The only key is on the wall over there.” “Leave it to me,” replied Mainspring. He yanked off one of his hands, revealing a mass of whirring cogs inside of his wrist. Mainspring dropped his hand to the ground and it scuttled across the floor like a clockwork spider, and through the bars of the cell. It attempted to jump up and grab the keys but they were out of reach. “It’s not working,” said Pendle. “Click, luckily, I’m a dead-eye shot.” With his other hand, Mainspring pulled
out his right eyeball and lobbed it at the keys, knocking them to the ground. The hand caught the keys on its thumb and the eyeball between two fingers then made its way back across the room. When it reached the cell, Mainspring picked up the eye and the hand and screwed them back into place, while Pendle used the keys to open the door. They crept upstairs and poked their heads up above deck. A gloriously colourful battle was underway, with hundreds of spear-throwing islanders attacking the admiral’s men. The advantage the English soldiers had with their superior weaponry was evened up by the sheer number of
attackers swarming on to the ship with ear-piercing battle cries. A man with a huge headdress was forcing Admiral Fussington at spear point towards the stern of the ship. “Please, Chief. I mean you no harm,” whined Admiral Fussington. “Where is the Teardrop?” said the chief. “On Snake Island,” squealed Admiral Fussington. “Please don’t hurt me.” “I not hurt you,” said the man. “I not speak for sharks, though.” And with a small jab of his spear, the chief sent the admiral over the edge of the ship into the water.
Now you know what happened, we should get back to the finale of this story. Where were we? Oh yes. Chapter Fifteen.
CHAPTER 15
The seco
nd-to-last chapter, in which one of Chas Goldman’s inventions goes up … and down.
As the Steampunk Pirates stepped out from the tower they saw that a great battle was raging between the duke’s men and the islanders. “Click, Captain Clockheart,” said Mainspring, “Tick, may I introduce the chief. Tock, it seems the jewel you acquired
belongs to his people.” “Red-faced man stole our Teardrop,” said the chief. “He will pay.” “Aye, he will,” said Captain Clockheart, “we’ll make sure of that.” “You know where Teardrop is?” asked the chief. “It’s at the top of this turret. Don’t worry. My crew will flush out that old duke.” The pirates made a circle around the turret. “Iron Duke, we have you completely surrounded,” Captain Clockheart shouted up. “You may as well make this easy on yourself and come out with the Teardrop.” The duke’s head appeared at an upstairs window. “Sorry, Captain Clockheart, but we won’t be doing that. You see, ignorant
islanders and half-witted machines are no match for good English planning…” “And some pretty smart American thinking,” added Goldman, appearing at another window. “You’ve got nowhere to run,” shouted Gadge. “Don’t make us come up there and get you.” “I don’t think there’s much chance of that,” the duke called back. “Fire her up, Goldman.” Suddenly, the four propellers on top of the turret began spinning round. They picked up speed, creating a strong wind. Slowly, from inside the turret, a large wooden crate emerged. It was suspended under the spinning propellers and had a window at the front revealing the duke
and Chas Goldman inside. “I call this my twirlicopter,” shouted Goldman. “I thought it was for drying pants,” yelled Gadge. “Oh, you can use it for that, too,” called Goldman. “But right now we’ll be using it to up and leave.” The fighting stopped as everyone watched the strange contraption flying overhead. No one had ever seen anything like it. “Stop them!” cried Captain Clockheart. “Aye aye, Captain. Time to go fishing,” said Gadge. He clicked a grappling hook attachment into place and fired, but the twirlicopter was out of reach. “Flying men take our Teardrop,” said the chief.
“There’s nothing we can do to stop them. Even Twitter won’t be able to catch up with them now.” Quartermaster Lexi’s word-wheel kicked in. “They’ve escaped, gone – vamoosed.” Then, suddenly, a loud explosion echoed off the hillside. A cannon had been fired and the twirlicopter was losing height. One of its propellers had been blown clean off. “Look,” said Gadge. “The smoke is coming from the Leaky Battery. But who fired it?” “Click, the only one on board is Pendle,” said Mainspring. “Our cabin boy!” said Captain Clockheart. “A lad who is worth his weight in gold, to be sure.” The islanders whooped as the twirlicopter came crashing down into the shallow water
just off the beach. “Let’s finish this business once and for all,” said Captain Clockheart. “Steampunk Pirates, my rusty buccaneers, follow me.” He held his cutlass up in the air, his clock hand spinning around, and led his crew charging down the hill, knocking and blocking any of the soldiers foolish enough to get in their way.
CHAPTER 16
The final chapter, in which we get some proper plank walking and Pendle tries to find some kind of moral in all this.
The sky was blue and a fair wind was moving the Leaky Battery at a steady pace. Behind it was a trail of soldiers shouting for help and trying to swim to the nearest island. “There really is no better way to relax than a good old-fashioned bit of plank walking,” said Captain Clockheart.
“You can say that again, sir,” agreed Gadge. “Click, who’s next for the plunge?” asked First Mate Mainspring. “We’ve saved the best for last,” said Captain Clockheart. Admiral Fussington and the Iron Duke stood by the mast, blindfolded and with their hands and feet tightly tied. “Which one first?” asked Gadge. “We should let them choose,” said Lexi. “Now there’s an idea,” said Captain Clockheart, grinning. “That is completely unacceptable,” protested the duke. “How dare you put two English gentlemen in such a position?” “Make him go next,” pleaded Admiral Fussington. “It was all his idea. I was just following orders.”
“Fussington, you coward,” barked the duke. “Besides, my superior rank means it should be you next.” “Age before beauty,” squawked Twitter. “I have an idea,” said Pendle. “Why don’t we push them over at the same time but remove one’s blindfold and the other’s leg bindings? That way they’ll have to work together, just as you and Mainspring did.” “Now, Pendle lad, I’ll not have you reading morals into this adventure. When pirates set sail, they leave their morals in the port. Still, I do like the idea of the two splashing about shouting at each other.Gadge, do the honours.” “Aye aye, Captain,” said Gadge, slicing through the duke’s blindfold and the rope binding the admiral’s legs.
“We’ve had enough talking, now let’s see some walking,” cried Captain Clockheart. A loud cheer went up as the duke and the admiral splashed down into the water. “What about Goldman?” said Mainspring. “Shouldn’t he be sent overboard, too?” “For the moment,” said Captain Clockheart, “I rather like having him as our new golden figurehead.” As the Leaky Battery picked up speed, crashing over the waves, water sprayed up, drenching Chas Goldman, who had been daubed with his own gold paint and strapped to the bow. From his colourful language, it seemed Goldman was less than happy with his new role, but his protests went unheard as the pirates beat a clanking rhythm and sang a celebratory song.
We are the Steampunk Pirates, We’re fearless, brave and bold, We asked a man named Goldman To turn us into gold, We trusted him completely, But the truth he had not told, So we painted his face, And strapped him in place, And over the seas we rolled (We rolled!) And over the seas we rolled.
Find out more about the author at: www.garethwrites.co.uk
To Captain Jacob & First Mate Ella Leggett – GPJ To Mr Alden, my geography teacher, for his encouragement and fashion sense – FAD STRIPES PUBLISHING An imprint of Little Tiger Press 1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road, London SW6 6AW Text copyright © Gareth P. Jones, 2015 Illustrations copyright © Artful Doodlers, 2015 First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2015 This eBooks edition has been created using CircularFLO from Circular Software. eISBN: 978-1-84715-626-6 The rights of Gareth P. Jones and Artful Doodlers to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988. All rights reserved. Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. www.littletiger.co.uk
