by Alan Snow
“It will have to.”
The ship forged ahead. Even though all the crew were now very worried by the voyage, they could not help but somewhat enjoy the feeling of the ship traveling at high speed. Snatcher loved the speed and soon went to the forecastle to watch the waves crash on the bows.
Kipper turned to Marjorie.
The ship forged ahead.
“The ship is going well.”
“Yes. We might even make it.”
“Do you think that’s a good thing?”
“Why?”
“Have you asked yourself why Snatcher would want to go somewhere to collect something to make medicine to give away?”
“No . . . I wonder what he is up to?”
“So do I.”
“You can bet we don’t know the full story.”
“Yes, but I just can’t work it out.”
For the rest of the day Snatcher wandered about giving pointless orders, and finally asked for supper. He seemed so happy with the way things were going that he offered the crew food.
“I think even the sailors third class might deserve a crumb. When me and me officers have finished and the washing-up is done, I think I might allow them a light supper. Let them break open the hardtack.”
“What’s hardtack?” asked one of the officers.
“It’s ship’s biscuits.”
“Sounds nice.”
Kipper, who was still at the wheel, didn’t look happy at the prospect.
“More like lumps of rock with worms in them. We only keep them for emergencies on long voyages. They are so hard, you have to soak them just to be able to scrape off a layer with your teeth.”
“But I understand they really are very nutritious,” said Snatcher, giggling.
“More like lumps of rock with worms in.”
As the sun went down, supper was served for Snatcher and his men, and after it an order was given to move all food apart from the hardtack to the captain’s cabin. The crew were unhappy, but with blunderbusses being waved around, the stores were soon stowed in Snatcher’s quarters.
Then a large wooden crate of biscuits was brought up on deck.
“Here’s your rations. I am giving you the lot. If you run out, then it’s your bad luck, so I suggest you keep some back.”
A little more edible . . .
The crew took some biscuits and used mugs of lukewarm water to soak them in to try to make them a little more edible. After just about getting them down, those who were on the overnight watch settled to their tasks while the rest of the crew were locked in the bilges and tried to get some sleep. This was difficult, as there was water slopping about, and the soap that was left over from when the bilges had been used for laundry now created mountains of frothy damp foam.
“At least it is clean,” muttered Willbury.
“At least it is clean.”
On the night watch Tom was in charge of the wheel. Between taking their position from the stars and steering, he kept a watchful eye on the barrel. Around midnight the officers had cocoa and wandered up to the forecastle, leaving Tom alone. Quickly he tied the wheel in position and crept down on deck to the barrel.
“Arthur!” he whispered. “It’s safe. The guards aren’t looking. If you need to get out and . . . you know what . . .”
The top of the barrel lifted, and out popped Arthur and Fish’s heads.
Out popped Arthur and Fish’s heads.
“It’s good to get some fresh air,” whispered Arthur.
Tom pointed up to the forecastle with one hand and put a finger to his lips with the other. Arthur and Fish climbed out of the barrel, and had a quick stretch in the shadows before Tom signaled to them to follow him to the store cabin under the forecastle. Once inside, he spoke.
“This is blooming awful. Snatcher has taken control of the food, and there doesn’t seem to be much we can do about it.”
“Do you know what Snatcher is up to?” asked Arthur.
“No. We’ve all been trying to work it out. Got to be something dodgy. Snatcher never does anything for anyone unless there is a lot in it for Snatcher.”
“I hope we find out before it is too late.”
Footsteps creaked on the boards of the deck above them, and Tom signaled them back to the barrel.
“I’ve got a little something for you to make life more comfortable.” Tom handed Arthur something small wrapped in a hanky, before closing the lid over his friends.
Tom handed Arthur something small wrapped in a hanky.
“Captain . . .”
chapter 19
PARTY PLAN
For the next few days the ship sped toward the South Atlantic. With the combination of steam and sail it was only going to be a few days before they reached the equator.
Bert had an idea. Without telling the others, he approached Snatcher.
“Captain . . .”
“Yes?”
“Did you know that it is traditional to have a party when you cross the equator?”
Snatcher looked very doubtful. “Why would I want to hold a party for scum?”
“It wouldn’t be for us, sir. No, it’s just to honor the captain and for a bit of fun.”
Snatcher was intrigued. “Is it indeed? Tell me more.”
“Well, it involves you and an assistant dressing up. You as Neptune, the king of the sea, and your assistant as a mermaid.”
“A mermaid!” Snatcher looked surprised. “And then what?”
“Well, everybody has to come on deck, and you have to punish any officer who has never been across the equator for any crimes they might have committed.”
Neptune with assistant mermaid.
“This is starting to sound fun. And how do I punish these miscreants?”
“Nothing too nasty. Usually a large tub of goo is made up from anything we can find around the ship. You have a big brush and splat it on them!”
A smile spread over Snatcher’s face. The idea appealed.
“This sounds like a tradition I might like to carry on,” said Snatcher, mulling it over. “But I do think it’s pretty cheeky of you to come here and ask me to splat my own men . . .”
Bert looked a little worried—until Snatcher gave him a wink. “But this is too good an opportunity to miss out on. So when do we get to the equator?”
“Late tomorrow at this rate.”
There were several officers sitting with Snatcher, and they were now looking daggers at Bert.
“If it is to be done properly, you’ll arrive on deck as Neptune about ten minutes before we cross the equator—with your mermaid assistant.”
They were now looking daggers at Bert.
“And let me guess . . . You lot get to watch me goo my officers?”
Bert tried not to look happy at this.
“Very well, I shall do it,” said Snatcher. “You’re in charge of getting the goo and costumes ready.”
“Yes, captain!” said Bert, saluting. “And who’ll be the mermaid? I’ll need to know so the costume fits.”
Snatcher thought for a minute. “I think my friend the doctor would do.”
The doctor, who’d been listening, started to protest.
“No, please not me.”
“It is either that or being punished for disobeying orders!”
“What’s the goo made of?”
“Given what we have to hand, I think bilge water, treacle, old oil, glue . . . that sort of stuff.”
The officers looked outraged and more than somewhat worried.
“All right. A merman I shall be.”
“Mermaid,” Snatcher corrected him.
“Very well. A mermaid.”
“By the way, what does this Neptune bloke wear?” asked Snatcher.
“A crown of shells and a cloak. Sort of fishy theme. It’ll be very elegant.”
“Well, just you make sure it’s not too fishy, or I’ll be doing some punishing of whoever’s responsible.”
“Would my costume be very fishy?”
asked the doctor.
“Mermaids is fish!” answered Snatcher. “So I think fishy is the very soul of your costume.”
Bert snapped a salute. “I shall get right to it, then, captain!”
“I shall get right to it, then, captain!”
Recovered Tennis Elbow Sufferer Found in Possession of Cheesy Morsels!
At daybreak today one of our reporters accompanied the local constabulary in the raid that apprehended a suspected member of the mob that has been carrying out the recent cheese outrages. At 6:47 a.m. police raided the dwellings of Mrs. J. Topperthwaite after a tip-off, and there discovered cheesy morsels hidden in a sofa.
The anonymous information was supplied by Ms. Maya Singer (a cleaning lady), who suspected her employer of “cheese eating” after finding scatterings of fermented lactose while cleaning Mrs. Topperthwaite’s drawing room.
“I couldn’t believe it! She seemed such a nice old dear, but once I found the crumbs of cheese, I knew it were my duty to report her. Do I get the reward now?”
Mrs. Topperthwaite is now in custody. After her foul feast of cheese we hope she gets dished up her “just desserts”!
It did actually look quite good.
chapter 20
A BARREL OF FUN?
In spare moments from their other duties the “sailors third class” set about work on the costumes and goo. Snatcher gave them permission to search the ship (apart from his cabin) for anything they needed, and the crew took full advantage. Although officers were sent to watch the search, they were careful not to cause any problems in case it made Snatcher unhappy. The officers were already worried about any crimes they might have committed that Snatcher might use against them.
The next day around teatime Bert delivered the costumes and told Snatcher that they would be crossing the equator at about 8:30 p.m.
“I see you have been hard at work,” Snatcher said as he admired his Neptune outfit, and then he put it on. It did actually look quite good. The crown of shells looked rather regal in a shabby sort of way.
Snatcher turned his attention to the mermaid costume. “My darling doctor, you’re going to look like the most beautiful . . . fish.”
Then, eyeing up the costume, Snatcher asked, “Do mermaids have legs?”
“Do mermaids have legs?”
“Not really,” said Bert. “Just a tail. But we gave the costume legs so that the doctor would be able to walk.”
“Stitch the legs together!” ordered Snatcher.
Bert set off with the costume under his arm and a smile on his face. He soon returned with the costume altered as Snatcher had asked. Snatcher took a good look and then spoke.
“Good! Doctor, would you like to go and change? I can’t wait to see how my mer-assistant is going to look.”
“Very good . . . ,” the doctor mumbled as he went off holding the costume.
“Now, how is the goo?”
“Would you like to come and inspect it, captain?”
“Yes, please. I don’t want any substandard goo.”
Bert led Snatcher to the main deck, where a large half-barrel stood, covered by a sheet. Bert whipped the sheet off, and Snatcher pulled back as the smell hit him.
“What’s in it?”
“Lots of things,” said Bert.
“Not too lethal, I hope.”
“I don’t think there is anything in there that would kill anyone,” said Bert.
Bert whipped the sheet off.
“Smells a bit?”
“Is a bit not enough?”
Snatcher smiled. “Is it possible to make it smellier?”
“Certainly!”
“Well, get to it, then!”
Bert thought for a moment, then grinned.
“Bert? What are you going to use?” asked Tom.
Bert had a twinkle in his eye. “Wait and see!”
With that, he set off across the deck to where the trotting badgers that Snatcher had brought along were being kept in a large crate.
“What do trotting badgers produce that is very, very smelly?” called Bert as he stood by the crate.
“You can’t be serious?” said Tom.
“Get me a metal spade.” Bert giggled as he pulled something from his pocket.
“What you got there?” asked Tom.
“Hardtack!”
He waved the biscuit in the air. Suddenly the trotting badgers’ noses pricked up, and they ran to the barred front of their shelter. Tom handed Bert a spade while the officer looked on in horror.
“Watch this.”
Bert threw the hardtack into the back of the crate, and the badgers descended upon it. Quick as a flash, Bert then slipped the spade under the bars and scooped up something from the floor, then withdrew the spade.
Bert slipped the spade under the bars.
Then Bert walked back to the tub of goo and tipped whatever was on the spade into the goo.
“DISGUSTING!” The crew moaned.
There was silence from the officers.
The goo tub.
Then Neptune appeared.
chapter 21
THE KING AND QUEEN OF THE OCEANS
At 8:20 Marjorie took a reading on the sextant and declared they were about to reach the equator. The ship’s bell was rung and the officers reluctantly assembled on deck, while the crew arranged themselves on the forecastle to get a good view. Then Neptune appeared.
Arthur, who had been keeping tabs on things from inside the barrel, was quite impressed with the way Snatcher looked.
“Here, have a look, Fish. This isn’t something you’ll see every day.” And he moved around the barrel so his friend could view what was happening.
The officers stared at their leader.
Then there was a lot of clonking and swearing, and a mermaid flopped out of the doorway from the stairs and fell flat on the deck. The poor doctor was wearing the tail, a pair of coconuts as a bikini top, and a long wig made from seaweed. He was not happy as he tried to stand up, and moved like a beached seal. Snatcher, on the other hand, seemed jollier than the crew had ever seen him before. He walked up to the goo tub and raised an old broom he’d been clutching.
A mermaid flopped out of the doorway from the stairs and fell flat on the deck.
“Bow before the King of the Sea,” he ordered. Everyone did as they were told.
“I am Neptune, King of the Seven Seas, and I have risen from my kingdom to dish out punishment to those who deserve it!”
The “sailors third class” smiled and the officers started shaking nervously. Snatcher then took out a list from under his cloak and began to read.
“I have decided that each punishment shall fit each crime.” Snatcher scanned the officers to find his first victim before turning his eyes back to the list.
“Gristle! You are guilty of the crime of darning my socks with wire. This is unforgivable and has played havoc with my bunions. Therefore, I call you to stand before me and remove your footwear!”
Gristle came forward. He looked a little puzzled, but took off his shoes and socks.
“Right, then. Do your worst!” Gristle said with something approaching defiance.
“Oh, I will, Gristle. I will!” And Snatcher dipped the broom into the barrel.
The broom broke a thin crust on top of the goo. As the smell hit Gristle, he almost fell over. Something chemically horrid had happened to the brew.
“Please . . . no!” said Gristle, backing off.
“If you run away, you’ll only make it worse for yourself. I shall be forced to give you a double ration!” warned Snatcher.
Gristle froze.
“I anoint you in the name of Neptune!” intoned Snatcher, and he took the goo-laden broom and slowly slopped it onto Gristle’s feet. The goo settled like thick treacle on a pudding.
“It terrible, but I can’t believe how satisfying it was to watch the appalling man get daubed,” Willbury muttered to Marjorie.
“You are now anointed,” Snatcher proclaimed wit
h a satisfied grin. “Next, please!”
Gristle unstuck himself from the deck, and glooped his way back to his place among the officers, but found that a large space cleared around him.
Snatcher handed the list to his mermaid.
The mermaid studied the list and looked a little puzzled. “It says here, ‘Ernest Grunge found guilty of F.O.B.’?”
Gristle unstuck himself from the deck.
“Yes!” replied Snatcher. “Fingers on bacon. I noticed his thieving hands disappearing with a rasher I was after at breakfast.”
Fingers on bacon.
A space now cleared around the unfortunate Ernest Grunge. “I didn’t know you wanted that bacon!”
“You is bleedin’ common. Didn’t your mother tell you to ask before grabbin’ the last rasher?”
Grunge shook his head.
“So you need an education, then. Roll back your sleeves!” ordered Snatcher.
Grunge crept forward, rolling back his shirtsleeves.
“Hold them out!”
Grunge did as he was told. Snatcher dipped the broom in the goo and slapped it on the outstretched hands.
“Yuck!” whispered Bert with rather more glee than might be considered polite.
“Grunge, you are now anointed. Who’s next?”
“Let’s see . . . ‘Lardwell Fruitfly. N.I.B.’ ”
“Ah yes! My dear Lardwell, I saw you sneaking a look at some of my papers.”
Poor Lardwell Fruitfly looked perplexed. “I’m sorry, Guv! I was only tidying things up.”
“Well, that is not how it looked to me,” snapped Snatcher.
“Errrr . . . what does N.I.B. stand for?”
“Nose in business! Can you guess what is going to happen next?”
Lardwell looked horrified and started to back away.
“Grab him!”
Two officers grabbed him and pushed him forward.
There was a swish, then a splat, and Lardwell’s prominent nose was hidden under a thick coating of goo. As the fumes hit him, he fainted.
