Worse Things Happen at Sea!

by Alan Snow

  “Surprise!” Archibald Snatcher smirked.

  “Surprise!”

  Cheese Attacked!

  Woman Charged.

  A Mrs. Fingle (52) of Innox Rd, Ratbridge, was found asleep this morning on the banks of the River Rat among the savaged remains of a CHEESE! Pieces of RIND bearing the evidence of human tooth marks lay strewn about the ground where she lay. Once awoken, the guilty woman denied the crime. Police have locked Mrs. Fingle (38) up, and she is to appear before magistrates later today.

  We thought the barbaric and medieval practice of consumption of cheese would have been stopped by the outlawing of cheese hunting, but yet again the law is flouted. This paper will campaign for the heaviest of sentences for those who take it upon themselves to prey on these defenseless creatures. Cheese hunting and eating has to be stamped out!*

  *Detailed engravings of the terrible crime scene and gory reconstructions of her savage acts of bestial cheese eating on pages 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10, 11, and 14, and you can read more in a special Cheese Crime edition tomorrow morning.

  Doctor Saves Town with Wonder Cure!

  Hundreds of Ratbridge’s townsfolk have been cured of their ills by recently arrived Dr I. Snook and his wonder drug “BLACK JOLLOP.” The cure-all dispensed by this modern-day saint from his newly opened spa and clinic, is, he says, only paying back a debt he says the people of the town are owed.

  What has Ratbridge done to deserve such a wondrous thing? The doctor would not say as he dispensed free treatment to all those in need. And there were many of them! In fact, so many that the supply of Black Jollop is now exhausted! What is to be done? How are those afflicted by ills to be cured? Must the doctor’s work come to an untimely end?

  No, for coming to his aid are the crew of the Ratbridge Nautical Laundry, who offered to set sail to fetch supplies of the key ingredient from a source in the southern seas. Amid scenes of jubilation, the Laundry cast off from its position in the canal last evening and set sail on its voyage. May the winds speed their passage and fortune guide their path!

  Mangled Marrows or Crushed Chrysanthemums? See inside for full story of mass destruction of town’s greenhouses.

  One gull tried dive-bombing the strange tube.

  chapter 16

  CATCHING UP

  As the sun was setting over Bristol the previous evening, a few seagulls watched a periscope wander between the moored ships. One gull tried dive-bombing the strange tube, but after banging his beak on the metal, gave up and went to look for a meal elsewhere. Below the periscope Arthur and Fish were taking turns looking for the Laundry.

  After a few minutes they spied the ship. Then the periscope made its way to a quiet corner of the dock and disappeared behind the hulk of an old fishing boat.

  Soon two figures made their way quietly along the quayside, and up the unattended gangplank of the Laundry. Once on deck, Arthur looked for somewhere to hide. By the steps to the forecastle was the large barrel full of apples. Arthur approached it and lifted the lid.

  “Quick, Fish. Help me throw the apples over the side.”

  It took the two stowaways a few minutes to make enough room to hide, but once they had, Arthur helped Fish climb into the barrel, then followed him in, and closed the lid over them. They settled themselves down among the last of the apples.

  They settled themselves down among the last of the apples.

  “I suppose this is what it would be like in a giant squirrel’s nest,” Arthur whispered to Fish.

  The dim light of the moon and sound of lapping water from the dock made their way through the bunghole in the side of the barrel, and soon they were both asleep. Not even the return of the now rowdy crew awoke them, and it was only the rolling of the boat as it reached open waters that broke their slumbers.

  Arthur knelt up and looked out of the hole.

  Arthur knelt up and looked out of the hole. Outside he could see his friends in the bright light of day. He watched Tom the rat walking past the barrel carrying a small coil of rope. Arthur was about to call out, but stopped when he remembered that they were hiding, and that until he was sure that the ship would not turn back, he’d better not reveal himself. So he made do with watching until he heard some deep rumbling and a belch behind him. He turned to see Fish breakfasting on one of the remaining apples.

  “Good idea!” declared Arthur, and he grabbed an apple for himself.

  For the next hour or two Fish and Arthur took turns to look out of the hole. Everything seemed very ordered, and the rats and pirates seemed to be in their element. Arthur caught a glimpse of Willbury from time to time, and then he noticed the doctor coming up to the deck from below.

  Arthur watched as the doctor made his way up to the stern and spoke with Tom and Marjorie. Then Tom called out some orders, and the whole crew appeared on deck. This blocked out Arthur’s view. All he could see were the backs of his friends standing around the barrel.

  After some more orders that Arthur couldn’t make out, everybody seemed to turn toward the barrel and started counting out loud. What was happening? he wondered. Were they playing a game? The counting reached one hundred and stopped. The crew turned their backs to the barrel again, and there was silence apart from a familiar voice. A small gap opened in the crowd in front of the barrel, and to Arthur’s horror, he saw . . .

  ARCHIBALD SNATCHER!

  ARCHIBALD SNATCHER!

  Faces turned from surprise to horror.

  chapter 17

  SNATCHER RETURNS!

  The looks on the crew’s faces turned from surprise to horror, and as they did, Willbury grabbed Marjorie’s arm.

  “It’s that awful man.”

  Snatcher smiled.

  “Good day, my old friends. It is sooooo nice to see you all again. And how joyous it is to give you all a surprise!”

  “What are you doing here?” shouted Kipper.

  “Silence, you squabs!” hissed Snatcher. He signaled to his men and they cocked their weapons.

  “Steady now. We don’t want any accidents, do we? Wouldn’t want to hurt me crew.”

  “What do you mean crew? We ain’t your crew!” shouted Kipper.

  “That, I’m afraid, is where you’re wrong. I’m the captain now, and you will address me as such!”

  There was silence.

  “Let me explain. The contract you signed with the doctor here gave him total control over this voyage.” He pulled the contract from his pocket and waved it in the air. “And he decided to appoint me captain.”

  He pulled the contract from his pocket and waved it in the air.

  The doctor, who was standing by Snatcher’s side, smiled and nodded.

  “My first order as captain is to have you lot demoted to ‘sailors third class’!”

  There were gasps from the crew.

  “And my second order is that all my friends here is officers.” Snatcher pointed at his evil cronies.

  “Now remember, disobeying the captain or any of his officers is severely punishable.” Snatcher and his “officers” giggled.

  “He can’t do this, can he?” Tom exclaimed to Willbury. “He’s a convicted criminal, and criminals can’t be captains. The law says so.”

  Snatcher moved closer.

  “Which law is that? English law? You might not have noticed, but we’re more than ten miles from the coast, and that means we are out of English waters and therefore English law don’t apply. What does apply is international law. And under that law I’m your captain.”

  “Is that true?” asked Kipper.

  “Yes, I am afraid so,” replied Willbury.

  “Yes indeedy do!” Snatcher smiled. “My word is law on this ship, and if I have trouble with you lot, you’ll be feeling the full extent of . . . the law. . . . As sailors I am sure you know disobedience can be seen as mutiny, and the punishment for mutiny is . . . ?”

  The crew looked very pale.

  “What’s the punishment for mutiny?” muttered Marjorie.

  Kipper ran
his finger across his throat and made a gagging noise.

  “Right! Want to get off on the right footing, don’t we?” Snatcher jibed. “So the crew’s quarters are to be cleared for the officers, and ‘sailors third class’ will be in the bilges. Once that’s sorted, I want a four-course lunch, hammocks rigged up here in the sun for me and me officers, all the beer and rum to be stowed in my cabin, the entire ship scrubbed from top to toe . . . and I want a proper captain’s hat—one with feathers and a big anchor on it.”

  Kipper ran his finger across his throat.

  “He’s power mad!” whispered Kipper.

  Snatcher went on. “I’d like lunch to be ready by one o’clock, and you lot,” he said, smirking, “will get your grub when I’ve decided you deserve it.”

  The crew didn’t move.

  “Get to it! I ’eard about that cat-o’-nine-tails. Sounds like something a captain might use.”

  The crew were suddenly filled with life and set about Snatcher’s list. First the crew cleared their things from the crew deck and carefully lowered them through a hatch into the bilges, while the officers made themselves at home. Then hammocks were strung up. Snatcher’s hammock was hung on the stern deck so he could keep an eye on things and give orders from it.

  Tom found a captain’s hat, decorated it with a few gull feathers and some tin foil, and then presented it to the new captain.

  “Ain’t you got some fluffier feathers?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Well, I suppose this will have to do,” said Snatcher as he lay back in his hammock. “Now splice the mainbrace or something!”

  “Ain’t you got some fluffier feathers?”

  Kipper (who was at the wheel) was not quite sure what to do, but Marjorie helped him out.

  “I think the captain means that you set course at full speed south, southwest.”

  “Yeah. That’s right,” agreed Snatcher. “And you can bring me a compass. I don’t want us going somewhere I’m not expecting.”

  A small pocket compass.

  Marjorie provided Snatcher with a small pocket compass, then looked at the charts while Kipper set course and called for more sail.

  On the main deck, sailor third class Nibble was having problems. The scrubbing played hell with his knees. As he looked about to make sure nobody was watching so he could rest, he suddenly heard his name.

  “Pssst . . . Mr. Nibble . . . Pssst . . . Willbury . . .”

  Willbury looked around but couldn’t see where the voice was coming from.

  “I’m over here . . . in the barrel!”

  Cautiously Willbury looked over at the barrel and saw an eye staring back at him through the hole. Checking that nobody was watching him, he moved closer to the barrel and started to pretend to scrub the deck around it.

  He moved closer to the barrel and started to pretend to scrub the deck.

  “Who is it?”

  “Me! Arthur!”

  Willbury stopped what he was doing for a moment.

  “Arthur? What are you doing in there?”

  “I wanted to come along. So me and Fish followed you and hid in here.”

  Nervously Willbury looked about before speaking.

  “You’ve got Fish in there as well?”

  “Yes. Right cozy it is too.”

  “Well, you had better just stay in there for the moment. Did you see what has just happened?”

  “Yes. Snatcher! What can we do about it?”

  “I am not sure there is anything we can do. But you stay hidden.”

  “Okay. Is there any chance you could get us some food? Both of us are rather sick of apples.”

  “I will see what I can do.”

  Willbury moved away from the barrel and started scrubbing his way toward Tom, who was working not far away. Arthur watched as Willbury whispered to Tom.

  A smile broke across Tom’s face as he looked toward the barrel. Then Willbury and Tom moved around, passing on the news to their friends. In turn each of their friends took a look toward the barrel and smiled.

  Over the next hour several ‘sailors third class’ appeared near the barrel and pushed sausages and other suitable food through the hole. At one point Bert appeared with a bucket and a funnel. When no one was looking, Bert put the funnel through the hole, and Fish and Arthur took turns to drink the water he poured through. They had been very thirsty and the water was extremely welcome, but not long after, the need to relieve themselves became overpowering. The next time Willbury came by, Arthur explained the situation.

  Fish and Arthur took turns to drink.

  “I think while lunch is being served, we might be able to cause enough of a distraction to get you out for a minute.”

  “Please, please do!” implored Arthur.

  Lunch was delivered to Snatcher and his men, in the form of a buffet. After some words with Willbury, Tom had arranged for it to be laid out on the forecastle. Snatcher and most of his men took full advantage of it, leaving just a few officers with blunderbusses watching the main deck.

  Then Arthur’s friends made great play of bringing up some trays of snacks for the guards, and while they were distracted, Marjorie and Bert slipped the top off the barrel and helped their friends climb out. Arthur and Fish quickly relieved themselves over the side of the ship and were helped back into the barrel.

  As the lid was put back in place, Marjorie smiled at Arthur.

  “Glad to have you both onboard. I think we might be needing your help.”

  “I think we might be needing your help.”

  Local Cheeses in Peril!

  Late last night a frightful new attack was made on the cheeses that live just outside the town. Night watchman Mr. Ebenezer Paint (63) heard hysterical bleating at about two a.m. as he performed his duties.

  “I was just brewing up a cuppa on the town wall when I heard a right pitiful noise. So I had a quick look and was shocked. There was a crowd of maniacs chasing some poor cheeses across the fields.”

  Mr. Paint (97) told of the horrific scenes of carnage as the mob caught up with the cheeses. “It was horrid. I never want to see anything like that ever again! They descended on ’em like beasts. Terrible it were!”

  “When it was over, the mob came back toward the town, and after seeing what they did to them cheeses, I hid meself.”

  Later Mr. Paint (14) summoned the police and led them to the crime scene.

  “It were not a sight for those with a weak disposition,” reported a police spokesperson.

  After the police cordoned off the crime scene, a search was made for the offenders, but none were apprehended.

  This paper is outraged that such a thing could happen twice within a week. We have to stop it! To this end, we are now going to offer a reward of twenty-five groats for information leading to a conviction of these criminals (terms and conditions apply).

  Marjorie took out all the maps.

  chapter 18

  SAIL AND STEAM

  After lunch the doctor gave Marjorie a small piece of paper with a map reading on it.

  “This is where we’re heading.”

  Marjorie took out all the maps that were kept in a locker by the wheel, and after spending quite a lot of time studying them, she spoke.

  “Are you sure this is right? This reading gives the position of a small island in the Pacific!”

  “Is that a problem for you?” Snatcher snapped.

  “It’s halfway round the world!”

  “And your point is?”

  Marjorie looked up at Kipper and shook her head. “It’s a long, long way. Have you ever sailed that far?”

  Kipper shook his head.

  “Well, you better get to it, then,” Snatcher said, smiling.

  “It could take months. I doubt we have enough provisions for a journey like that.”

  “Well, you better work out how we can get there fast, then. One thing you can bet on is it ain’t going to be me and me officers who go short.”

  Marjorie
gave Kipper a worried look.

  “Do you mind if I call a meeting? I’ll have to organize things if we’re to speed up this journey.”

  “All right, but I will be keeping a very close eye on yer. Don’t want no funny business.”

  Marjorie called the crew on deck.

  “Our captain is asking us to sail to the Southern Pacific.”

  This was met by silence.

  “If we’re to make it before the food runs out, we’re going to have to use steam. I want half the crew to work the sails and the other half stoking the boiler.”

  “Hang on a minute,” snapped Snatcher from his hammock. “Leave us a cook. I want me grub.”

  “Hang on a minute.”

  “Very well. So apart from the cook, I want you divided in two. We’ll work shifts and get going as fast as we can.”

  Two teams formed, and soon the boiler was back in action. Once the steam was up, the ship started surging forward, and Marjorie took several readings over the course of the next few hours. Using these calculations, she tried to work out if they would make it before running out of food and fuel.

  “I reckon it’s going to be a very tight thing,” she muttered to Kipper. “If we have any holdups, we’re done for, and the last part of the journey will have to be under sail, as we’ll have run out of fuel by then.”

  “Can’t we stop somewhere and get some more?” asked Kipper.

  “I can’t see Snatcher wanting us to stop off. Might give us a chance to escape.”

  “If we are going to the South Pacific, does that mean we have to go around the Cape?”

  “Yes . . . yes, it does.”

  Kipper looked worried.

  “Not sure the ship will stand up to that.”