“Don’t you worry none now, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, I do this kind of thing every day.”
- - -
Ohhh! Interesting!
Ohhh! Pretty!
Ohhh! Dangerous!
It is another world down here.
I don’t want to end up some fishie’s dinner, but the sights are marvelous!
Schools of silvery fish dance about faster than I can keep up with.
Dangerous predatory types view me with suspicion.
Crawly, swimmy, and scuttly, there is no end of the amazing life that thrives beneath the waves.
How does one describe an octopus’s travels? Squirty?
It sure is getting colder and darker the deeper I go. What in the world can I be looking for down here? The floor of the Pacific makes the State of Texas look like a postage stamp.
I can see prairies of fans, corrals of corals, and endless meadows of mountains.
Look at all the shellfish! There are fields of mullosks, mussells, oysters, and, oh my goodness, clams.
Clams.
Giant Clams.
Biggus clamus humungous.
Hundreds of the white shelled creatures blanket the sea floor for as far as I can see. Ranging in size from the smallest, little fellows, to the truly titanic, I never dreamed they could grow to such dimensions. I am dwarfed by their enormity.
Somehow, I know.
Somehow I know I am in the right place.
Somehow I know that what I seek is here.
Did I just see a flicker of light?
I think I saw a sliver of dim light escape from an especially large clam.
Everything is so still and silent. My swimming isn’t disturbing anything. The forty foot clam just lies there, immobile. Covered in barnacles and seaweed, he does not appear to have moved in many years.
Deep within, I catch another flicker of light.
Good Heavens, I think it’s a pearl! It is a pearl! Way back there in the back. It’s enormous!
That pearl must be what I came down here after. I gotta get that pearl and hurry it to Miss Plumtartt.
Everything is very still and silent.
Certainly I can just snatch the object, and be on my way.
Hmm, just to be safe, I’ll stick this chunk of driftwood between the open shells.
I’ll take me one more look around.
No-one here but me.
I reckon I’ll just swim on in. I can’t resist that milky luminescence.
Let’s see if I can just pull it out.
Unh, unh!
Dang, this here pearl is really entrapped in all this cloying oyster, muscley tissue. I reckon I’ll have to cut the lustrous prize loose from the tenacious moorings.
Hey, did this place shudder when I started up with my knife?
~eeeeeeee~
~uhrrrrrr~
~Snap!~
~Kuh-Lunng!!!..guh...guh...guh...~
- - -
Get off of me, you romantic mussel!
This bivalve behemoth is almost amorous in its pursuit.
I gotta figure a way out of here where the giant clam’s shells have crashed together around me, but this dang ol’ clam’s tongue, muscle, or whatever it is, won’t leave me alone.
It wants to eat me. Come to think of it, maybe it already has.
I give him a couple of pokes with my emerald blade.
He backs off and gives me a moment to think.
This lid is clamped down tight.
I kick at the hard, swervy lips. I pry with the knife. Nothing affects the colossal, contemptuous, koquina. It would take, literally, tons of leverage to crack this determined crustacean’s grimace. That was a stout piece of wood I had used for a wedge, and this brute snapped it without a bit of trouble. A large pneumatic press would be handy, but it would have to be of the highest strength.
Could I kill this creature?
Probably, but would that avail me my freedom? So far, my attacks have only served to encourage the creature to clamp down with ever increasing pressure. If I kill the amazing mollusc, I could very well decide my own fate, trapping myself within.
Think, Ichabod.
Good grief! It would take the hydraulics of the Gods, to pry open this obstinate shellfish.
This lid will not open, unless the creature wants to open it.
How can I make the fishie want to open up?
. . .
( ! )
Fire!
How can I create fire in this environment?
. . .
( ! )
Taking a deep breath, I remove the G.I.L.L.s.
I continue to let the mechanisms work.
In a short time, a bubble of air develops at the top of the shell.
I have two things on my person that I have kept waterproofed. The first one is my tinder. I felt foolish bringing it with me underwater, but old habits die hard. Now I am glad I brought it. A man should always have an ability to create fire, but the meager sparks that I can create with the tinder will not be enough to shock the creature.
I need more.
I need a something to burn.
I require fuel.
Everything is wet. I cannot burn an article of clothing, unless I can hold it in the bubble of air until it dries out. That might take a week. I do not have the ability to hold my hands over my head that long. Nor have I provisions for that length of time.
My sammich! That’s the other thing I have waterproofed!
I firmly believe in having a sandwich about my person at all times. It saved Miss Plumtartt and me in the desert, recently, and now, it might save me again in a different fashion.
It’s a good thing I’m a peanut butter and jelly man.
I remove my lunch from its special place on my utility belt.
Holding the sammich up in the bubble of air, I unwrap its wholesome goodness, carefully maintaining its dry status. Splitting the two pieces of bread, I consume the jelly side.
Yup, this is some good peanut butter. Most folks know that many oils are flammable, but they only think of petroleums, such as kerosene, or whale oil. People forget that vegetables such as corn can be refined to flammability. Likewise, non-processed peanut butter can burn. The flammability of raw peanut oil can be a life saver in freezing conditions. Perhaps it will provide fuel for my means of escape.
Come on, tinder box, don’t fail me now!
The goober paste is catching! The peanut butter is burning! Smoke is filling the bubble!
I think I felt the chamber tremble.
“AHH-CHOOO!!!”
I am flung half a league by the calamitous clam’s sneeze.
- - -
I have our prize!
This giant pearl is certainly the Talisman that we seek.
I gotta get this thing to Miss Plumtartt!
“aaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaaahhhh”
Did I just hear something?
“aaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaaahhhh”
I coulda sworn that I just heard some singing, a kind of music, maybe.
“aaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaaahhhh”
It has a kind of ethereal quality to it.
It’s the pretty music of ladies’ voices, singing in an unusual fashion.
“aaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaaahhhh”
Gosh, it’s awfully strange, but, I think they are calling to me.
“aaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaaahhhh”
I want to go to them.
“aaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaaahhhh”
I think... I must... go... to... them...
“aaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaaahhhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaaahhhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaaahhhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaaahhhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaaahhhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahhhaaahh”
- - -
“Come to us, Ichabod,”
“Shouldn’t I wait until you girls are dressed?”
Thr
ee beautiful ladies gently float in the underwater currents. They smile and lazily swim in fluid, languid figure eight patterns. They beckon to me.
I hesitate for they are only half dressed!
In fact, they're not dressed at all!
They are only half ladies, from the waist up. From the waist down, they have great, big, fishie tails!
To my great embarrassment, they are most immodestly attired... They ain’t got a stitch between them!
Well, one of the girls has a conch shell, fashioned into a hair brooch, but that don’t really count.
Gee, these gals are, uh, really pretty.
“Ichabod...” Mermaid body language beckons to me. Their arms and hands weave in repetitive motions, as if they are pulling me to them with an invisible rope. The fluid motion of their bodies and tails work hypnotic patterns. In unison, their irresistible chorus sings to me.
“Come to us, Ichabod.”
“Be with us, Ichabod.”
“You are for us, Ichabod.”
“Ichabod...”
“Ichabod...”
I go to them.
They circle me, effortlessly swimming in a lovely spectacle of underwater flight.
I am enchanted.
“You have come to us.”
“I have come to you.”
“You have brought something.”
“I have brought something.”
“Something pretty.”
“Something pretty.”
“We want it.”
“You want it.”
“Give it to us.”
“Give it to you..”
“wait... ”
“not.. you.”
“Give it to us!”
“This here pearl is for Miss Plumtartt!”
“Give it to US!!!”
What’s happening? The pretty girls are getting all ugly and monstery as they get mad.
“Give us the Reflector!”
“No! I mean, No, Ma’am!”
“Give it to us!”
“Y’all ain’t a bunch of pretty mermaids at all, are you? I think your pretty hair was just a mirage, to disguise your layers of gills! You gals are the biggest bunch of fiendish she-beasts I ever did see!”
“Eee-Aye-rRoark! If you will not give us the Reflector, then we shall take it! ”
“Eek! I have my P.E.R.K knife, y’all. Don’t make me use her; she’s a proven lady-killer!”
“Hrr-Reerl!”
“Yikes! Where did those dagger-like Piranha teeth come from? Don’t bite me!”
~slash!~
“Sorry, Lady! Zoinks! Stay away, you man-eater!”
~gash!~
“I really hated to do that, Ma’am!”
~stab!~
“Gosh, y’all’s scales are hard to penetrate!”
Chapter 40 – Lonely Hours.
Persephone
“The boy’s gone, Persephone. It’s time to be moving on.”
“No, Captain, wait a little longer, please?”
“It’s been twelve hours since the lad went under the waves. It is time for us to be under way.”
“He simply must return to me, Captain.”
“We were all fond of him, Miss, but it looks like Icky’s not coming back. I am sorry.”
Oh, Mr. Temperance, where are you? These are the longest hours of my life. Time and again I am been swept with the worst foreboding; nevertheless, I cling to the buoy of Hope.
Despair tugs at my heart, but I staunchly refuse to allow its entrance.
“I ask for you to be patient, Captain. I have the highest confidence in Mr. Temperance. He has not failed me yet.”
“As you wish, Persephone.”
Our schooner’s Captain turns and walks away, shaking his head negatively to his crew. All the ship’s hands slump a bit and return to their idle waiting.
The sun sets into the vast Pacific, seemingly to confirm Mr. Temperance’s demise.
Please come back to me, Mr. Temperance. Come back to me, Ichabod.
Wait; what is this light feeling I have? He returns; I know it. He is successful; I can feel it.
I cannot repress a smile from spreading across my features.
“Ha, ha! This way, gentlemen, Mr. Temperance returns!”
The disbelieving sailors follow me to the ship’s rail. I note several crewmen exchanging dubious glances.
“Look, there!” calls one of the sailors.
An indistinct shape slowly rises from the depths of the deep, blue Pacific.
The crew of the ‘Scarlett Queen’ break into a disbelieving roar of cheers and applause at the improbable reappearance of Mr. Temperance. He breaches the ocean surface to a hearty welcome.
Mr. Temperance smiles broadly, waving to the crew, and then holds up an enormous pearl, larger than his own head.
Undoubtedly, this is the Talisman that we seek!
“Ichabod, I beg your pardon, Mr. Temperance! I am overjoyed at your return and success. Did you experience any difficulties, sir?”
“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary, Miss Plumtartt.”
- - -
“Mr. Temperance?”
“Miss Plumtartt,” replies my American escort, taking my proffered hand and assisting me aboard this great ship.
“I reckon we made it back to Hawaii just in time! We just barely made it aboard this gigantic ocean paddler before she set sail for Manila.”
“Our timing; impeccable. Our rendezvous with the Victoria; serendipitous.”
“Ain’t she beautiful a beautiful ship, Miss Plumtartt?”
“Indeed, she is, Mr. Temperance. The S.S. Victoria is the crowning achievement of Plumtartt Industries’ factory and shipyard.”
“Wow-wee, what a ship, Miss Plumtartt! Even though I was on her sister ship, the Triumph, just a few weeks ago, this gal is no less staggering in her size and grace.”
“I personally oversaw her construction. With one of father’s uncanny Sol Furnace’s to power her, this ship is a modern marvel.”
“I sure am glad to see you happy again, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mr. Temperance. I don’t know if it is my proximity to the ‘Orb’, or being on a Plumtartt ship, but I confess, I am positively jubilant.”
“Speaking of the ‘Orb’, don’t you think it would be a good idea to keep it close?”
“Indeed, it is a good idea, sir, and that is why I do.”
“Um, you ain’t got the ‘Orb’ right now, do you?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Hunh? Oh, I see! I thought your bustle was riding kinda high, but I wasn’t gonna say anything.”
“Yes, quite, I say, I note that you are never without your many accessories, sir. I hope you are not put out at my adoption of your cautionary measures, eh hem?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“We have been on lots of pretty boats, Miss Plumtartt, but ain’t none of ‘em got nothing on big Vicky here.”
“She is first and foremost a passenger liner, sir. No expense has been spared to bring this ship to the pinnacle of opulence and grandeur.”
“Ach! Please do not be moving! You were standing just right!”
Mr. Temperance and I find ourselves under the extreme scrutiny of a tall, strongly built fellow. Dark eyes flash in consternation as he gestures at us with small, shiny, pointed devices.
“Turn back to one another, I was only halfway through cutting out your silhouettes!”
“Silhouettes, how delightful! I say, you really have managed to capture us very well, sir. What is our talented artist’s name?”
“I am Wolfgang Metzger. The sun had you two in frame perfectly; I could not resist!”
“Gosh, what a nice guy, Ma’am.”
“Indeed, everyone we have met on board has been perfectly charming. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Temperance, eh hem?”
“Yes Ma'am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am. Gee whiz, I sure am glad to be here with you, Miss Plumtartt. Oops, uh, I mean, here with all these
wonderful people on this wonderful ship.”
“Hear, hear, Mr. Temperance. I am so happy to have boarded this fateful paddler...ohh...”
“Miss Plumtartt! You faltered and almost collapsed! Are you okay, Ma’am?”
“Yes, Mr. Temperance. I'm sorry, it's just, for a moment, I felt as if someone had walked over my grave...
...I am sure it is nothing.”
- - -
“I trust dinner to be to your satisfaction, Mr. Temperance.”
“Oh, yes, Ma'am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma'am! This here is about the finest spread I ever sat down at. How about your own eats?”
“Divine, Mr. Temperance.”
“Ain’t this nice, being invited to sit at the Captain’s table!”
“There are times when it is an advantage to bear the Plumtartt name.”
“Looky there at that pretty lady coming in, Miss Plumtartt. That must be Mademoiselle DeeDee Gauzot. One of the stewards told me she has a severe sunlight allergy, and can only come out at night.”
“The poor woman! Fortunately, she does not appear to suffer from the malady, otherwise.”
“No, Ma’am. Hey, she is accompanied by our friend Wolfgang. It looks like they will be dining at our table also!”
“A say, what a charming scene this is, with joyous travel mates sharing good food and...oh.”
“Miss Plumtartt, are you all right? All the colour has drained from your face and you look as if you could slip into a faint.”
“I, I, I, beg your pardon, Mr. Temperance, it’s just that I had a horrible sensation pass through me. It was very much in line with the vaporous feelings I have felt at the time of ecto-plasmic manifestation, yet it is quickly banished again.”
“I noticed something peculiar, Miss Plumtartt. This ship has scores of stewards spread throughout the ship, bearing lit torches. They seem to be in teams, and frantically alert. I wonder why that is?”
“Might I ask the table, is anyone else as concerned with this epidemic of horrible ghost attacks around the world, like Mademoiselle DeeDee, too?”
“I say, Mademoiselle, I am most emphatically concerned, hear, hear. Do you have any thoughts on the subject, eh hem?”
“Oh, no, Mademoiselle Plumtartt, I am just as shocked as anyone else to see these terrible things popping up, all over the world. Almost simultaneously, as well, no? It is a mystery, and Mademoiselle DeeDee cannot resist a good mystery, no? Oui!”
A Matter of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 1) Page 18
