The Unlikely Adventures of Mabel Jones

by Will Mabbitt

  Captain Ishmael turned to Mabel.

  “I am indebted to you, snuglet. For you have reunited me with my greatest treasure—my brother. If there’s anything we can ever do for you, Mabel Jones . . .”

  Mabel smiled.

  “Actually, there is . . .”

  And she held her hand out for Captain Ishmael’s piece of X.

  Captain Split clomped across the deck. “Hand over the X, Toucan, or I’ll split you from beak to tail feathers.”

  Ishmael looked at him.

  “I will give Mabel Jones my piece of X if you first swear a pirate oath on your father’s rotten memory that you will leave my ship peacefully.”

  Split spat on the deck.

  “On my father’s festering grave, I swear.”

  Ishmael pressed the piece of X into Mabel’s hand and whispered:

  “Here it is, Mabel Jones. I give this to you in gratitude for saving my brother.”

  And with that the pirates returned to their ship. Captain Split was disappointed at the lack of killing but glad at least to have recovered another piece of the X.

  As the Feroshus Maggot sailed into the distance, Mabel heard angry voices drifting from the PEAPOD across the sea.

  “I said you could have just a bit!”

  “A slice is a bit!”

  “I meant a bit of a slice!”

  Mabel Jones sighed as the PEAPOD disappeared from view. All about her were the friendly faces of the pirates, eager to hear the story of her miraculous escape from the belly of the whale.

  One, however, was missing. The silent doorknob-handed villain who had pushed her overboard in the first place.

  Now that she was safely back on the ship, Mabel realized that she wasn’t angry with Omynus Hussh. If anything, she felt a bit sorry for him. She had, after all, been responsible for him losing his precious hand.

  If only I could talk to him and apologize, maybe we could be friends.

  But Omynus Hussh was no longer aboard the Feroshus Maggot. He was on a secret mission in pursuit of the fourth piece of X . . .

  CHAPTER 11

  The Bestest Thief Ever

  What a view!

  The hot sun beats down upon the Calm Blue Sea, making it sparkle and shine like a sapphire. A giant castle rises from the gently lapping waters. A castle carved from solid rock, its impregnable walls hiding a civilized world of whitewashed walls and courtyards filled to bursting with vines and olive trees.

  See that tall tower?

  Peek through that small arched window.

  NOT THAT ONE!

  I’m sorry, madam. You can return to your bath.

  How embarrassing!

  I meant that window.

  Aha! You’ve found me!

  Quick! Here are some underpants: put them over your head and look through the leg holes.

  I know, disgusting isn’t it? Those underpants have hardly been worn. Who puts underpants in the wash after only one wearing?!

  No one would ever know that we are here, hidden safely in a pile of dirty laundry, just in time to see—

  Shhh!

  The door to the count’s private chamber is silently opening!

  A shadow enters: the stooping and silent form of Omynus Hussh, the bagger from the Feroshus Maggot. We know him well: a treacherous creature—attempted murderer of young Mabel Jones.

  See how he creeps around the edge of the room. See how he slides beneath the bed, leaving the dust in place. The only clue to his presence? A tiny scrap of silence where once there was a creaking floorboard.

  He’s done his homework too, for he seems to know exactly where he is going. A quick glance around the room reveals no threat and he begins to climb the bookcase.

  FOOTSTEPS!

  In the corridor outside!

  Quick and quiet, he curls into a ball and disappears among the shadows. Can you see him? Just there! Between The Bible and THE BIG BOOK OF TORTURE EQUIPMENT.

  Always alert. Always watching for danger. His saucery eyes shining with excitement.

  The footsteps pass along the corridor, and Omynus Hussh uncurls. His eyes scan the shelf and are drawn to a big red book with a golden clasp.

  He looks around and smiles proudly.

  “I’s the bestest thiever, filcher, pincher, nicker, or stealer that ever’s there been on any of the seven seas ever, ever, ever!”

  Carefully taking the book down, he opens the cover.

  It is no ordinary book, for its insides are hollowed. It is the secret hiding-place of the object that Captain Idryss Ebenezer Split so wildly desires: the second-to-last fragment of the X stolen from his father so many years ago.

  Except . . .

  THE BOOK IS EMPTY!

  “Where is its?”

  A tear of disappointment runs down Omynus Hussh’s furry cheek. He peers around to check that no one is looking, pulls out a handkerchief, wipes his eyes and blows his nose.

  AND THE DOOR OPENS!

  A figure appears. A hooman!

  A hooman like Mabel.

  But this hooman is not a snuglet. This hooman is a Fully Grown-Upman, flanked on either side by heavily armed monkeys, their tails flicking in excitement, their sharp pikes pointed at Omynus Hussh.

  And what a hooman! So handsome. A complete dreamboat. His eyes shine and twinkle like the morning sunlight on a dewy pool. His artfully plucked eyebrows are angled in a way that is both quizzical and confident, like two caterpillars raising their heads to kiss just above the top of his nose. His jaw looks as if it has been carved from a rock that was already quite handsome even before it was dug from the quarry.

  The hooman’s top lip curls back from his perfect white teeth in disgust.

  “Caught in the act! So you’re th

  e foul thief that has been drifting silently through my castle like a fart from a sickly princess! You were good, loris, but not good enough!”

  He pulls a tiny golden comb from the inside pocket of his white jacket and runs it through his perfect hair. Replacing the comb, he lifts a pendant from beneath his shirt.

  A PIECE OF THE X!

  “You were looking for this?”

  Omynus Hussh nods glumly. He has never been caught before. It doesn’t feel nice.

  “Guards, chain him and throw him in the dungeon. We all know what fate awaits those who try to steal precious antiques from the Castle of Count Anselmo Klack.”

  A vain man. We could have guessed.

  Because if there’s one piece of advice you take from Mabel’s adventure . . .

  If you skip every other page . . .

  If there’s just a single lesson to be learned, it is this:

  Never trust a man who washes his underpants after just one use.

  So we can very easily guess what fate awaits those who try to steal precious antiques from the Castle of Count Anselmo Klack.

  A FATE WORSE THAN A FATE WORSE THAN

  DEATH!!

  CHAPTER 12

  A Friend in Need

  Omynus Hussh scratched another mark in the wall of his tiny cell.

  He stared longingly at the tiny window, far out of reach for even the most tricksome of climbing creatures. Through that window he had watched day turn to night five times now. Each morning, a small hatch opened in the door to his cell and a single piece of dry bread was pushed through.

  He picked a maggot from today’s bread and popped it into his mouth. Cuddling his dried hand, he began to sob.

  He sobbed for Captain Split and his crewmates.

  Likes a family to me, they was . . .

  He sobbed for the memory of Mabel Jones who, let’s remember, was, to his mind, drowned.

  It was just a little push. A tiny little push.

  And he sobbed for a time long ago. A time he could scarcely remember
. A nest among the lush green leaves of a faraway forest. His tiny body curled around his siblings, eight of them, all waiting for their mother’s return.

  Then bad memories: a wolf’s paw, reaching into the nest. The mewing of his siblings as he was carried away into the night . . .

  Suddenly his memories were broken by the sound of a key in the door. He sat up, rubbing the tears from his eyes as a hooded monkey entered and the door was closed.

  Omynus Hussh squinted through the gloom. There was something funny about the monkey.

  Something familiar.

  The monkey looked back at the door to check it was closed, then removed its hood.

  GASP!

  The monkey was actually skilled monkey look-alike Mabel Jones!

  Omynus Hussh threw himself to the ground with a scream.

  “A ghost has come to finish me off. Back from the dead to claim her rightful revenge!”

  He looked up pleadingly from the prison floor.

  “Finish me off, Mabeljones, for I was borned evil, like the captain says, and I deserves what I gets. Just knows this: I’s sorry for pushing you off the ship that day. Sorry to the very marrow of my bones that ache with regret.”

  He pulled open his shirt to reveal his chest.

  “Stabs me through the heart, Mabel. Stabs me through my miserable, broken heart.”

  Mabel smiled kindly.

  “It’s OK, Omynus. And I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I bit you and I’m sorry you lost your hand. It must be very difficult. It was such a handsome hand.”

  Omynus Hussh sniffed. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  Mabel sat cross-legged on the floor.

  “Anyway, I’m not a ghost, and I’m here to help you. Not kill you.”

  “Help me?”

  She took a package from her bag and spoke quickly.

  “There is not much time. Take this and . . .”

  Mabel leaned forward and whispered some ultra-secret instructions into Omynus Hussh’s ear. Then, before he could reply, she stood up. And, as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone.

  Then her head poked back around the door.

  “Friends?”

  “Friends.”

  Omynus Hussh blinked.

  She’s alive.

  He blinked again.

  She came to help me.

  He looked at the floor in shame.

  After all the nasty I’ve done.

  Then a funny feeling deep inside his chest spread up his throat, like a backward swallow, making his mouth smile in a way that felt nice, rather than all sneery and plotting like usual.

  She wants to be my friend!

  He hugged Mabel’s mysterious bundle tight to his chest as though it was the most precious thing ever.

  No one has ever liked me before.

  CHAPTER 13

  A Fate Worse Than a Fate Worse Than Death

  In the courtyard of the Castle of Count Anselmo Klack, a crowd of monkeys had gathered. They grouped beneath parasols, lounging in the sun, all chattering excitedly.

  All waiting.

  Among them sat Mabel Jones, still undetected in her monkey disguise.

  In the middle of the courtyard, a raised platform had been constructed. On the platform sat a wooden block and next to the block stood a brutish-looking gibbon with an executioner’s hood and a VERY large ax.

  Mabel nodded politely to the heavily bandaged driver of a horse-drawn covered wagon. She stepped to one side as it rumbled slowly through the crowd. The words POX-RIDDEN TONY’S EKSECUTION POPCORN were crudely written on the side.

  The driver took a puff on his pipe, exhaled a toxic green smog and nodded back.

  Everyone looked up at the balcony of the count’s private chamber.

  Watching.

  Waiting for the count to appear.

  Finally he arrived, the medals on his white uniform glinting in the morning sun. He smiled and his eyes twinkled at the gathered crowd, who sighed in unison.

  So much charisma!

  The count checked his watch. It was time. He artfully wafted a silk handkerchief in the air and the crowd started to cheer.

  Mabel heard the sounds of struggling.

  “Please, please takes my head off—just leaves me with my lovely hand!”

  Omynus Hussh!

  “Not my lovely, lonely little handy!”

  He was held tightly by the guards as they pulled him toward the platform.

  “It’s the only one I gots!”

  The guards tied his wrist to the block. Even then the struggling loris tried to shield his precious hand with his neck.

  “Anything but my hand!”

  The doorknob at the end of his other arm swung uselessly at the monkey soldiers.

  The ax was raised.

  THE CROWD gasped.

  The ax came down.

  Omynus screamed.

  The crowd winced.

  There was the sound of metal slicing through bone and a severed hand spun across the courtyard over the crowd, and landed at Mabel’s feet.

  She picked it up and put it in her pocket.

  Then, just when everyone was applauding the successful cutting-off of the thieving loris’s last remaining hand . . .

  There was a very loud BANG!

  The Feroshus Maggot, anchored just off shore, had fired its cannon!

  At this signal the driver of POX-RIDDEN TONY’S EKSECUTION POPCORN wagon whipped off his bandages to reveal the battle-ready face of a savage pirate goat.

  Pelf!

  From the back of the wagon jumped the other pirates, cutlasses ready and pistols loaded.

  At this point a savage battle ensued between the monkey guards and the pirates. I’m afraid this is no stuff for a little ’un. Too much blood and gore can stunt your growth, so let’s skip to the end of the fight.

  What’s that?

  You want to hear the details?

  You think you have the nerve to witness it? In all its grisly and gruesome glory?

  Well, all right then. Just for a little bit . . .

  See Mr. Clunes, the orangutan! Surrounded by monkey soldiers, each one armed to the teeth. No cutlass for Mr. Clunes, just fists like hams. A swinging blow connects with the jaw of one of the monkey guards and sends him flying. Then another! And another!

  He’s swatting them away like flies!

  See Milton Melton-Mowbray! Who would have thought such a well-spoken and kindly swine could handle a sword with such deadly grace and style. Those fencing lessons at St. Hamlet’s School for Rare-Breed Pigs have not gone to waste. Another monkey is pinned to the wall with a thrust of his épée.

  “Have at thee, sir!” cries the nicely mannered porker.

  To Pelf now. No fancy training for him. Just the school of hard knocks and a degree without honors from the university of life. Pipe still in his mouth, he delivers his blows with cutlass, hoof, and horn. Not the finer stuff like Milton Melton-Mowbray, nor raw brute strength like Mr. Clunes. Just good old-fashioned brawling, honed to perfection by a lifetime of piracy. There’s nothing wrong with a HEAD-BUTT! Especially when you have horns!

  Finally, what creature is this?

  It’s a snarling ball of fur and teeth.

  It’s a furious whirlwind of claws and drool.

  It’s the most ferocious of all the pirates—Captain Idryss Ebenezer Split! On all fours, he leaps from monkey to monkey, his claws scratching and tearing. In the tight and crowded mêlée, he is invincible, and all his foes will feel his rage.

  From high above, the count watches the fight with interest as the pirates free their stricken comrade, the no-handed loris. Then he sighs and signals to a monkey positioned safely on the castle walls, well above the scrum.

  A warning shot is fired. A bullet ricochets around th
e inside of the castle courtyard, eventually knocking the pipe from Pelf’s mouth.

  The pirates look up. All around, high above on the castle walls, the muzzles of a hundred monkey rifles are pointed at them. They slowly stop fighting as the inevitable dawns. They are trapped.

  Trapped like rats!

  Trapped like rats in a trap designed to be especially dangerous for rats.

  The count combs his hair as he watches from the balcony. Smiling smugly, he turns to the monkey guard positioned next to him.

  “It pays to be ready for all eventualities, you see.”

  Then he notices the monkey is pointing a pistol at his belly.

  “Yes, I think one should always expect the unexpected,” replies Mabel Jones, pulling off her monkey disguise in triumph.

  Aye, that’s right. It’s the cunning, ruthless Mabel Jones!

  “Call off the guards or I’ll put a ball of lead through yer gizzards!” she commands in pure pirate.

  CHAPTER 14

  Princess Mabel Jones

  The monkeys waited for the order to shoot.

  No order came.

  Slowly, the pirates began to edge toward the castle gateway. The monkey guards, still waiting for the official order, had to let them pass.

  Up in his private chambers, the count twinkled his eyes thoughtfully. He ran his fingers over his chiseled jaw. Finally he scratched his perfectly formed head.

  “You’re a little girl.”

  “Yes, I’m Mabel Jones.”

  “Not a monkey?”

  “Definitely not,” replied Mabel a little crossly.

  “So there are other people here!” said the count to himself.

  He looked at Mabel more closely and smiled warmly.

  “How did you get here?”

  “Get where? This room?”

  “No. This world! This place! This lawless zoo overrun with foul beasts and beastly fowl.”

  Mabel Jones smiled proudly. “I was kidnapped by pirates.”