Worse Things Happen at Sea!

by Alan Snow

chapter 8

  AN OFFER

  Grandfather and his newfound health took some getting used to, and soon everybody apart from Grandfather was worn out. There had been walks, a visit to the swimming pool, dancing, and quite a lot of arm wrestling (which the boxtrolls enjoyed). Arthur noticed one other change in his grandfather—he’d lost his sweet tooth. In the past if cake or sweets were ever around, Grandfather was never far behind. But now when cocoa and buns came out, Grandfather refused them.

  “What’s up with you?”

  “I think it’s my body telling me to eat well. I just don’t fancy anything sweet since I got better. It’s odd, but I do have a desire for something, but I just can’t put my finger on what it is. I’m sure it will come to me.”

  Later that night Grandfather awoke in a sweat. As he sat up in bed, he found himself sniffing the air. There was a faint trace of whatever it was he couldn’t remember earlier. He still couldn’t put a name to it, but he found himself licking his lips as he settled down to sleep again. By his bed a pair of very muddy slippers sat in a small puddle.

  * * *

  Over breakfast the following morning Arthur noticed Grandfather looked preoccupied, but he snapped out of it when Arthur caught his eye and smiled.

  “I am not sure why it is, but I feel a little tired this morning. I have a feeling that . . .” But before Grandfather could go on, there was a rapping at the front door. Arthur answered it and was rather surprised to see the doctor standing on the doorstep.

  “Can I help?” asked Arthur.

  “I’d like to speak to my patient and that lawyer chap.”

  The doctor standing on the doorstep.

  Arthur ushered the doctor into the shop, and Willbury and the others stood to greet their guest.

  “Welcome, doctor. Come to check up on your patient?” said Willbury with an outstretched hand.

  This seemed to perplex the doctor, but he nodded and shook Willbury’s hand.

  “Er . . . yes. How is he doing?”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  “Good. And I’ve come to ask for help.”

  “Help?” asked Grandfather.

  “Yes, help. Just like I gave you.”

  “Of course. Whatever we can do.”

  “The demand for Black Jollop is far higher than I ever imagined. Frankly, it is running out.”

  “Oh dear.” Grandfather looked very concerned. “You had better make some more.”

  “That is the problem. It’s not quite that easy. I need a certain ingredient and it’s almost all gone. It is not a thing one can just get hold of. That is where you’re to help. If I am to continue my good work, you have to help me with some importing.”

  Arthur thought this sounded a bit pushy.

  “What can we do? We’re not importers of anything,” replied Willbury.

  “I am coming to that. I understand you’re very good friends of the crew of that ship on the canal. I need them to make a trip.”

  “So what do you want us to do?”

  “They’re your friends, aren’t they? Get down there and tell them they are off on a voyage.”

  “But . . .”

  “Look here. I may well have saved this gentleman’s life,” said the doctor, pointing rather rudely at Grandfather. “Are you going to let me down when I need you?”

  “No . . . no,” said Grandfather. “It is just that it is not our ship, and they have troubles of their own.”

  “This is a major emergency, and if you let me down, you’ll not just be letting me down but also the people of Ratbridge.”

  “I understand, but asking them to go on a voyage . . .”

  “I’d think that it is the very least you could do for me, considering that you might have died.”

  There was a pause, and then Grandfather spoke.

  “Very well. I’ll ask them. But I’m not sure they can help us. Didn’t you hear what happened to them in court?”

  “Yes, I did indeed. Sounded like they might be at a loose end now anyway.”

  Willbury spoke up. “And to where would this voyage be?”

  “That is a secret. I have to closely guard the formula of Black Jollop. I’ll provide someone to go on the voyage who’ll know the destination.”

  “The Ratbridge Nautical Laundry has to find money to pay off their fine, so why would they ever agree to going on a journey?”

  “I have to closely guard the formula of Black Jollop.”

  “To help you, the people of Ratbridge—and to earn ten thousand groats.”

  “TEN THOUSAND GROATS!”

  “My backer is so keen to spread the benefits of Black Jollop that he’s willing to put up the money.”

  “What do you think?” Grandfather asked Willbury. This seemed the answer to everybody’s problems.

  “TEN THOUSAND GROATS!”

  “Seems more than generous.” Willbury turned to the doctor.

  “How would we know that you would come through with the money?”

  “Really! After all I have done for you. But what do you expect from a lawyer? Don’t worry. I have a contract.”

  The doctor pulled out a document from his inside pocket and passed it to Willbury.

  The doctor pulled out a document from his inside pocket and passed it to Willbury.

  “It basically says that the ship and its crew will fetch supplies and in return shall receive the sum of ten thousand groats on return to Ratbridge.”

  Willbury inspected the document.

  “That is what it says. Also, it hands captaincy and control of the ship over to you, though.”

  “Technically that may be true, but my lawyers are insisting on it. If we are paying that much money, we want control. The crew will be more than generously compensated for it. If they can do without the money . . .”

  “I think we had better go and ask them. It’s a lot of money.”

  “Good. I shall expect to hear from you shortly. By tenish tomorrow morning if possible.”

  With that, the doctor walked to the door. “Supplies are running very short, and there is already a queue outside the spa for when we open tomorrow. I must go and prepare myself to turn away the sick.”

  The door closed.

  It took even less time for them to agree.

  chapter 9

  FIREWORKS

  It didn’t take long to tell the crew about the contract, and it took even less time for them to agree. Ten thousand groats was exactly enough to get the crew of the Ratbridge Nautical Laundry to sign the contract. There were still a few problems—how to free the ship from where she was stuck, the fact they were facing the wrong direction in the canal with no space to turn round, and how to provision the ship. Marjorie thought she had answers to the first two problems.

  “I think there are three methods we could use to unstick her. One: Pull her out. Two: Dismantle the bridge by hand. Three: Something a bit more interesting.” She smiled.

  “What is the ‘something a bit more interesting’?”

  “It’s the most elegant and least tiring one.”

  “What?”

  “Wait for this evening. I could be ready by then . . . if I’m allowed to help myself to the stores.”

  “Of course! Would you like any help?” offered Tom.

  “No, I think I will be able to manage it on my own.”

  “And what about the fact the ship is facing the wrong way up the canal?” asked Tom.

  “Simple,” answered Kipper. “Use the engine. It will drive us backward, won’t it, Marjorie?”

  “Yes. All we have to do is put one more pulley in the drive train, and she will go backward all day. Might look a bit strange, going backward down the canal. But once we get to somewhere we can turn round, I can take the pulley back out and we can go forward again.”

  “Brilliant!” said Kipper.

  Marjorie winked and disappeared below decks with a smile on her face. Tom then got out the chest where they kept their money and counted it up. It totaled eight groa
ts and would barely cover a week’s shopping, let alone provisions for an entire voyage.

  Marjorie winked.

  “I’m not sure what we are going to do. Does anybody have any savings tucked away?”

  After a few minutes the crew returned with another twelve groats in loose change, but it was still nothing like enough.

  Willbury then came to their aid. “I’ll lend you the money on one condition. That I can come along!”

  “Certainly!” Tom smiled. “We would be more than happy to have you along.”

  “Well, I have one hundred and twenty-five groats invested at the post office—but it is my life savings, and I really will need it back.”

  The crew gave him a cheer.

  “Do you know how soon the doctor wants us to set off?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “When would it be possible to get your money?”

  “All I have to do is get my checkbook from home.”

  “Would you like some of us to come along as guards?” asked Kipper. “It is an awful lot of money.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Blunderbusses?” offered Bert.

  A Blunderbuss.

  “I think that would draw attention to us and might also be highly illegal.”

  “Shall I bring my stick?”

  “Very well. But you are not to bring it out unless someone else starts trouble.”

  Bert agreed, and Willbury set off with most of the crew in tow. As they walked, they drew up a list of everything they would need for a long voyage.

  As they walked, they drew up a list.

  “Ready!” Marjorie shouted. It was early evening, and after a busy day everybody was gathered on the towpath to watch. Marjorie ushered the spectators back behind a barrier she had erected some distance down the towpath, and then she walked back to the bridge.

  From where Arthur was standing he could see long sticks, each with a tube at the top, protruding from all over the bridge.

  “I wonder what she is up to?”

  “I am very sure we are going to find out, and very shortly,” Grandfather said with a smile.

  Marjorie ushered the spectators back behind a barrier.

  Willbury was looking uneasy.

  Then Marjorie came back toward the spectators, reeling out something as she did.

  “What’s going to happen?” Arthur asked.

  “Watch!”

  She pulled a box of matches from her pocket and leaned down to the ground, where the end of the string she had been reeling out lay. Then she struck a match and held it to the end of the string. After a few splutters the string caught light, and there was a fizzling and a sparking as the fire rapidly moved along the string toward the bridge.

  “A fuse! You’re not blowing up the bridge, are you?” shouted Willbury in horror.

  “Wait and see!” She chuckled.

  The sparking reached the first of the sticks, and things started to happen.

  “Watch!” cried Marjorie in delight.

  With a stream of flame one of the sticks shot high into the sky, and then its jet fizzled out.

  This was followed by another and another.

  This was followed by another and another. Some of the “rockets” seemed at first to struggle to get off the ground, but slowly they all managed to disappear into the night sky. The display went on for minutes, slowly enveloping the bridge in a thick cloud of smoke. As it died away, Willbury spoke.

  “Very nice, Marjorie! Fireworks! But what about the bridge?”

  “Wait until the smoke clears.”

  Arthur watched. The huge plume of smoke started to drift off in the wind.

  THE BRIDGE WAS GONE!

  The applause died away and Marjorie bowed.

  “Simple, really. The rockets were fixed to all the stones that made up the bridge, and POOF! Redistribution!”

  Willbury looked rather unhappy, but not as unhappy as all the gardeners with greenhouses in Ratbridge were the following morning.

  Arthur congratulated her. “You’re brilliant, Marjorie! There is nothing to stop us setting sail now.”

  Willbury and Grandfather both looked at him, then at each other.

  Not as unhappy as all the gardeners with greenhouses in Ratbridge were the following morning.

  “I’m sorry, Arthur, but you are too young to go on this trip. You’re going to have to stay here with me,” said Grandfather.

  Arthur suddenly felt as though his world had collapsed. All day he’d been imagining setting off with his friends on the adventure, and now in a moment it had been taken away from him.

  “But Grandfather . . .”

  “I’m sorry, I have discussed it with Willbury, and he is of the opinion that this really isn’t the sort of thing a lad of your age should be involved in.”

  “Grandfather . . .”

  “Arthur, that is an end to it.”

  Arthur looked about at his friends the pirates and rats. They looked disappointed as well, but were keeping quiet.

  “Maybe when you are older,” said Willbury.

  This was the final straw. Arthur turned and walked away down the towpath.

  Arthur turned and walked away down the towpath.

  Those cheeses that escaped made for the woods.

  chapter 10

  AN OUTRAGE!

  The sky was clouded, and the moon threw almost no light on the boggy marshes where the cheeses slept. The gentle but rather stupid creatures were slowly rebuilding their numbers after almost being wiped out in the days of cruel cheese hunting. Now, of course, that barbaric practice was banned. The sound of the water from the river mixed with the snoring of the cheeses, and masked the soggy footsteps of the approaching predators.

  Then there was a crazed yell, and the attack upon the innocent creatures started. From the darkness human shapes appeared and ran toward the panicking cheeses. The startled creatures took flight. But only the more mature cheeses knew the ground and were fast enough to evade the onslaught. As for the young and weak . . . there was little hope.

  Those cheeses that escaped made for the woods, but were followed by the evil humans who’d been too slow to feast on the early victims. Soon these hunters were wandering about in the darkness among the trees, bumping into things and whimpering with their unfulfilled cheese lust. The trembling, terrified cheeses quivered in their hiding places behind trees and down burrows. After several desperate hours of searching the baying mob gave up and turned back toward the town, needing to get back to their beds before the night was over.

  As the sun rose, a lonely woman now reduced to doing her own washing settled a basket by the riverbank and looked about to find a suitable rock to scrub her clothes on. Her eyes fell upon something yellow, bobbing in the shallows. She reached down and picked it up. Turning it slowly in her hand, she began to shiver.

  As she fell to the ground in a faint, her lips mouthed a word.

  “RIND . . .”

  Turning it slowly in her hand, she began to shiver.

  Titus looked a little shocked.

  chapter 11

  READY FOR THE OFF

  Fish was standing by his usual place at the fire cooking breakfast when Arthur made his way down to the front room of the old shop. The boxtrolls and Titus were gurgling to each other excitedly, which made Arthur feel worse. When Fish held out the sausages, Arthur shook his head and went to sit in Willbury’s chair. For a few moments the boxtrolls went quiet, but soon they started to gurgle on again. Titus offered Arthur a plate.

  “Leave me alone!”

  Titus looked a little shocked but backed off.

  Then Fish came over and tried to console Arthur.

  “Grumfff greee?”

  Arthur pushed his hand away.

  Fish pointed up the stairs and signaled Arthur to fetch Grandfather and Willbury for breakfast. Arthur lifted himself out of the chair and clumped up the stairs. He was about to enter Grandfather’s room when he heard talking and stopped.

&nbs
p; He heard talking and stopped.

  “I know Arthur really wants to go, but he really is too young.” It was Willbury.

  “Yes, but they take eight-year-olds into the navy!”

  “And look how they are treated! No! It’ll never do. As his guardian you’ve a responsibility to look after him, and allowing him to go off on that wreck of a ship to some undefined destination is just not okay. Imagine if something went wrong. How would you feel?”

  “I know, I know . . . but you could keep an eye on him.”

  Arthur was shocked. His grandfather would allow him to go. It was Willbury who was stopping it from happening.

  “Besides, who would look after you if you fell ill again?”

  “I am sure I’ll be fine—but if I took a turn for the worse, I could find someone. We broke Arthur’s heart last night when we told him he couldn’t go. The experience might even be good for him.”

  “Never! He’s just too young.”

  “Maybe if . . .”

  “No! And let that be an end to it.”

  Arthur heard Willbury making for the door and so rushed to make his way back down the stairs and sit down in the armchair again. This time when Fish passed him a plate of eggs and bacon, he reluctantly took it and started to eat.

  He reluctantly took it and started to eat.

  “Ah, Arthur! Just the person I wanted to see.” It was Willbury. “Kipper and Tom dropped by earlier to tell me that the ship is ready. I want you to go down and tell the doctor.”

  Arthur felt the food stick in his throat. He swallowed hard and didn’t answer.

  “Arthur. I want you to go down to the doctor to tell him the ship is ready!”

  “All right,” muttered Arthur.

  “Good,” said Willbury, and then turning to the boxtrolls, he added, “Apparently, they’ve made me up a real sailor’s hammock.”

  “You’re going to have to muck in a bit with the crew,” replied Grandfather.