Adventure According to Humphrey

by Betty G. Birney

  “Don’t worry, Humphrey. You’re not getting a bath,” Richie assured me. “I just want to show you something. It’s a secret.”

  Once the tub was full, he showed me a strange-looking boat. “This is my remote-controlled submarine. Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

  The submarine was a very sleek boat, nothing like the sailboats we’d been studying. It was completely gray and had no sails at all—just a tower-like thing coming up out of the middle.

  “Here’s the periscope.” Richie pointed to a long, narrow tube coming out of the tower. “When you’re underwater, you can use it to see what’s on top of the water.”

  Amazing.

  “In real submarines, people can live underwater for weeks. Even months. They can sneak up on enemies because no one even knows they’re there,” Richie said.

  After he put the submarine in the tub, he used a remote control—like the one for Mr. Fitch’s television—to make it move through the water.

  “I can control when it goes up and when it goes down,” he explained. “See?”

  Using the controls in his hands, he made the submarine dive down until it was completely underwater. It glided silently across the bottom of the tub.

  “Now, watch this,” he said.

  I watched carefully as he pushed some buttons, and suddenly, the submarine glided up to the surface of the water.

  “That’s GREAT-GREAT-GREAT,” I squeaked happily.

  My classmates are so clever!

  But my little hamster heart sank almost to my stomach when Richie said, “I’m going to take this submarine to Potter’s Pond for the boat race.”

  “That’s against the rules,” I squeaked.

  “Kirk thinks he’s so smart,” Richie muttered. The submarine dived to the bottom of the tub. “I’ll hide it in my backpack. While the race is on, I’ll sneak to the sidelines, slip the submarine in the water, then bring it up right next to his stupid tall ship. Just to show him I can handle a boat, too.”

  “Something could go wrong! What if the submarine hits the boat?” I tried to warn him, but it was no use.

  “I’ll probably get in trouble,” Richie admitted. “But I don’t want the stupid prize, anyway.”

  My mind was racing. If I could get my paws on that controller, maybe I could stop him. But Richie put the submarine and the device in a cabinet way up high. I could see there was no way a small hamster could reach it.

  I’ve helped a lot of my friends on a lot of my weekend visits, but there was no way I could change Richie’s mind.

  “It’ll be our little secret,” he told me.

  It wasn’t a secret I wanted to keep. At least I wouldn’t be there to see it.

  “Good news, class,” Mrs. Brisbane announced on Monday. “The weather tomorrow should be picture-perfect, so the trip to Potter’s Pond is on.”

  My friends gave a cheer. Even though the picnic was off for me, I managed a celebratory squeak.

  I felt terrible for Mrs. Brisbane. She’d planned everything so well, but things weren’t going to go according to her plan unless I came up with a bright idea to stop Richie.

  Everyone was excited about the picnic the next day, but they were perfectly quiet when Mrs. Brisbane read the final chapter to the Uncle Jolly Roger book. Vic and Vi helped their uncle scare off the pirates (with the help of a very loud whistle—can you believe it?). And then, to the children’s surprise, they set sail with the treasure to return it to the real owners. It turns out that Uncle Jolly Roger was a good pirate!

  Richie was a good guy, too. And good guys don’t do bad things, do they? Well, maybe sometimes they do.

  I needed a Plan. But in order to have a Plan, I needed research. Mrs. Brisbane talked about research from time to time, and I figured out it meant learning more about a subject. When students had to do research, they usually went to the library. So I decided to undertake a little research project of my own.

  First, I had to wait for Aldo to finish cleaning the room. He was very cheery that night, whistling the hornpipe song and dancing around with the broom.

  “Well, me buckos, tomorrow I set sail,” he said. “I hope your friends don’t get attacked by pirates.”

  The thought of pirates attacking anyone, especially my friends, made my whiskers twitch, but Aldo let out a jolly laugh.

  I waited a long time after Aldo left to make sure he’d left Longfellow School for the night. Then I told Og about my mission, slipped out of my cage, slid under the door and headed toward the library. The hallways didn’t seem so eerie anymore. I guess I was getting used to my nighttime journeys.

  Once I squeezed under the door of the library, I stopped to catch my breath and look around. The fish tank was glowing, thank goodness, because I needed the light. I headed straight for the remote control. If I could figure out how it worked, maybe I could figure out how to make Richie’s remote not work. I scrambled up the stair-like shelves and scampered across the desk to the remote control.

  Research can be HARD-HARD-HARD, as I found out that night, but I learned a lot. First of all, remotes don’t have cords that you can plug and unplug, like televisions and irons and other objects humans use.

  Second of all, those buttons do some very strange things besides turning a television on and off. I found the On/Off button and up on the screen, I saw a group of children walking down a sidewalk. When I pushed the next button, the children started walking backward, which was pretty funny. I hate to admit, I spent quite a bit of time making those kids walk forward and then backward.

  Then it was time to get on with my research. One button turned the sound on and off, and others made the picture do all kinds of strange things, like change color and get squiggly lines. None of the buttons made the remote stop except the On/Off button.

  There had to be something else that made the remote work. I checked more carefully and found a little compartment in the back. When I jiggled it open, two batteries rolled out. The batteries were the secret! Sure enough, when the batteries weren’t in the remote, no matter how many times I pushed the On/Off button, nothing happened.

  If I could take out the batteries, I could put Richie’s remote out of action. So the next morning, all I had to do was (a) get into his backpack, (b) find his remote and (c) take out the batteries . . . (d) without anyone noticing!

  That was a tall order for a small hamster, but I vowed to give it my best shot. I could only cross my paws and hope that my friends would leave for Potter’s Pond after morning recess and not first thing in the morning.

  But before that, I needed to get Mr. Fitch’s batteries back in their little compartment. Let me tell you, taking batteries out is a lot easier than putting them in. It took me four—no, five—tries before the screen lit up and those children walked down the sidewalk again.

  Whew! I couldn’t resist hitting the button that took the movie back to the beginning, and I saw its title: Safety First. It explained how children should cross a street safely, and oh, it was a very frightening sight! The children learned how to look both ways before crossing a street, how to wait for a kindly crossing guard to stop traffic with a sign and how to press a button on a pole and wait until a picture of a person walking lit up. Those kids were very good at being safe.

  But I couldn’t help thinking about how unsafe a little hamster would be out on the sidewalk. All those big feet clomping along and huge cars whizzing by! The kindly crossing guard probably wouldn’t be able to see me, and there was NO-NO-NO way a creature of my size could reach up that pole and press the button for the Walk light.

  Not only were hamsters in danger around water, we were unsafe out on the sidewalk. I hit the On/Off button and dashed for the door. But as anxious as I was to get back to Room 26, I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of something under Mr. Fitch’s desk.

  Being a naturally curious creature, I looked more closely. I was amazed at what I saw. It was a genuine pirate hat: big and black with a broad brim, right there in the library!

  Had a pi
rate been here and left it behind? Was Mr. Fitch secretly a pirate?

  “Shiver me timbers!” I squeaked, and I dashed out of the library and back to the safety of Room 26 as fast as my small legs could carry me.

  Be careful, all ye treasure seekers. You might find more than ye bargained for!

  From JOLLY ROGER’S GUIDE TO LIFE,

  by I.C. Waters

  10

  Anchors Aweigh

  BOING-BOING-BOING!”

  That was Og’s reaction when I told him about my experience in the library. Even though I didn’t think he understood what a remote control is, he got the general idea, and when I told him about the pirate clothes, he splashed so madly, I was in danger of getting soaked right there on our table.

  After Og settled down a little, I knew I should get some sleep so I’d be alert and ready if I had a chance to get into Richie’s backpack the next morning.

  Still, I couldn’t resist taking one more look at the beautiful boats my classmates worked so hard on. They looked seaworthy enough, thanks to Mr. Brisbane’s advice. And they were beautiful, with Mrs. Morgenstern’s help. Gail’s nautical flags were bright and colorful. So were the sails on the Chinese junk. But in the end, my favorite was the tall ship, because it looked as if it really could sail FAR-FAR-FAR away.

  Standing in front of this wonderful boat was about as close as I was going to come to the adventure I’d been wishing for. I longed to be a little bit closer. It couldn’t hurt if I just crawled into the boat and pretended to sail for a minute or two, could it?

  I stood at the bow of the boat and tried to imagine what it would be like to be captain of such a fine vessel.

  “Ready about!” I squeaked. “Trim the sails! Swab the decks!”

  I admit, I didn’t know what all those things meant, but I’d heard them in books and movies.

  “Lower the boom! Batten down the hatches!” It felt good to say those things.

  “Heave-ho!” I shouted. I heard Og splashing in the background, but I was hardly aware that I was in Room 26.

  I don’t know how long I spent pretending to be sailing. I only know that after a while, I suddenly felt sleepy. Sleepier than I’ve ever been, in fact. It must have been the fresh sea air I was imagining.

  I turned and noticed a nice piece of sailcloth in the bottom of the boat. I decided that a short doze was in order, so I burrowed under the cloth and closed my eyes. I guess I was dreaming because I could see the boat gliding across a silver sea, and then the dream turned SCARY-SCARY-SCARY because I saw a pirate ship approaching. And there were real live pirates on board, wearing shiny red jackets with gold buttons and big pirate hats.

  “Turn back!” I yelled. “Trim the sails! Flibber the gibbet!”

  I wasn’t making much sense, but the words sounded pretty good. Suddenly, in my dream, a huge wave came up and shook the boat. I was being violently tossed around by the waves (and feeling slightly sick, too). And I heard the ship’s bell chiming an odd sound: “BOING-BOING-SCREEE!”

  That’s when I woke up. I pulled back the sailcloth just enough for me to see that I was moving out of Room 26. Og had been trying to warn me, but I guess the cloth muffled the sound.

  I heard voices.

  “Can’t I at least carry it?” Richie begged.

  “Better if I do it,” Kirk replied. “Trust me.”

  It took me a few sleepy moments to realize that I was still in the tall ship, which the boys were carrying to the bus for the trip to Potter’s Pond! I was about to squeak up in protest when I thought that at last, I had an opportunity for real adventure. I was going to Potter’s Pond! And maybe, just maybe, I’d still have the chance to disable Richie’s remote.

  “Nice, breezy day for sailing,” I heard Mr. Brisbane say.

  I burrowed back under the cloth as my friends chattered away. Soon I felt the vibration of the bus.

  “Everybody, find a seat.” That, I knew, was the familiar voice of Miss Victoria, the bus driver.

  SCREEEEEECH!

  It’s a good thing I was already lying down in the bottom of the boat or I would have surely been knocked over by the horrible sound of Mrs. Wright’s whistle. If that was her idea of fun, I was already sorry I’d stowed away.

  “I am missing one permission slip,” she announced. “This bus cannot leave the school without it. Is Richie Rinaldi on the bus?”

  “What?” Repeat-It-Please-Richie’s muffled voice replied.

  “Richie, I must have your permission slip or you will have to leave the bus,” Mrs. Wright told him.

  It was mostly quiet—except for the shuffling of some paper. He must have been rummaging around in his backpack. Backpack! That’s probably where he had the remote control, too.

  “I’ve got it!” Richie said.

  A few minutes later, the bus rumbled away from the school, on its way to Potter’s Pond . . . with me on board!

  My friends were kind of noisy—they always are on the bus. Then I heard Mrs. Brisbane say, “Mrs. Wright, I think it would be fun if you led us in some songs.”

  Mrs. Wright sounded surprised. “Me? Well, I could, I suppose. If you’d like me to.”

  “I’d like you to,” Mrs. Brisbane replied.

  I braced myself for the whistle. SCREEEECH!

  “All right, class. Everybody sing!” Mrs. Wright commanded my friends.

  Everybody sang—probably to avoid hearing the whistle again—as Mrs. Wright led them in a song that was VERY-VERY-VERY noisy!

  If you’re happy and you know it

  Clap your hands.

  And everyone clapped!

  If you’re happy and you know it

  Clap your hands.

  More loud clapping.

  If you’re happy and you know it

  And you really want to show it,

  If you’re happy and you know it

  Clap your hands.

  Thunderous clapping!

  I clapped my paws, too. Then I remembered Richie’s backpack again. Was there any way for me to slip out of the boat and into the backpack without anyone noticing?

  Mrs. Wright blew her whistle again. SCREEEECH!

  “Keep it going, students!” she barked. And they did.

  If you’re happy and you know it

  Stamp your feet.

  The students stamped in a way that would have gotten them in trouble if they were in class and not on the bus.

  I decided this was not the time to escape from the boat.

  If you’re happy and you know it

  Stamp your feet.

  Even louder stamping. I am surprised the floor of the bus didn’t collapse with all that stamping, but my friends—and Mrs. Wright—were having so much fun, they kept on going. They added a verse where everyone shouted, “We are!” and then another where everyone did all three things: clapping, stamping and shouting, “We are!”

  As much fun as everyone was having, I was feeling quite miserable. I wanted to get to that remote control and stop Richie from getting in trouble. And I wanted to warn my friends that they might meet up with some unfriendly pirates.

  But I also knew that if Mrs. Wright discovered a small, unsanitary hamster on the bus, it would ruin everything. So I listened to the happy commotion and stayed put.

  Suddenly, the rumbling of the bus stopped.

  “Let’s thank Mrs. Wright for making this trip so much fun,” I heard Mrs. Brisbane say.

  My friends all cheered loudly, which must have made Mrs. Wright feel good.

  “All out for Potter’s Pond,” Mrs. Brisbane announced.

  There was so much noise, so much bumping and thumping, so much confusion that all I could do was lie low, hang on tightly and hope for the best.

  It took a while to get everyone lined up. I heard the voices of some of the parents, like Heidi’s mom, Miranda’s dad, Gail’s mom, Art’s mom and Sayeh’s dad. This was some big party!

  At last Mrs. Brisbane made the big announcement. “Boys and girls, on the count of three, set your
boats on the water,” she said.

  “One . . . two . . . three!”

  SCREEEECH. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised that Mrs. Wright blew her whistle to start the race.

  There was a big bump, a bigger thump and then—oh, my—I felt myself floating for the first time in my life. It felt like I was riding on a cloud.

  My classmates screamed, “GO-GO-GO!” Once I was used to the feeling of drifting on water, I pushed the cloth back a little and peeked over the side of the boat.

  What a sight! Ahead of me, rippling blue water. In the distance, a leafy green shoreline. On either side of me, my friends’ boats, now afloat. Above me, sails gently rippling. I ventured up to the bow of the ship and felt the soft breeze against my fur. It was glorious!

  On the shore, my classmates were lined up on both sides of the pond, cheering their boats on.

  The ship was sailing so smoothly, I relaxed a little.

  I glanced behind me just in time to see the delicate swan boat that Sayeh and Miranda had worked so hard on rapidly sink out of view. There were moans and groans from the shore, and I groaned a little, too.

  The pirate ship was the next boat to go under. There were more groans, but others cheered for the remaining boats.

  I was getting nervous. Was my boat going to sink, too? My tummy did a FLIP-FLOP-FLIP. But my tall ship seemed to glide effortlessly through the water. I guess Kirk really did know what he was doing.

  The Chinese junk and the flag-filled sailboat were still on the water but lagging far behind me. Even farther back was the tip of the Viking ship, which was sinking rapidly.

  “Go!” my friends chanted. “Go!”