by Tony Main
Misty’s crew danced about the deck, cheering wildly, and the children tumbled up the companionway to join in. Then the churning waters subsided as the Orca broke away and the whales swam free. Ancell looked up to see the Shearwaters circling high above Misty’s masts, their white necks flashing in the first rays of the sun, and listened to their harsh calls of triumph fade into the distance as they resumed their migration north. He glanced back at “The Executioner”. Now only the tip of her bow pointed hopelessly at the heavens – and Laughing Jack, the knife clenched between his teeth, was swimming to Misty’s side.
‘Throw him a line, Mr Skeet,’ ordered Capt. Albern tersely.
‘No!’ shouted Ancell, hobbling to the quarterdeck in a panic.
The sea otter turned his piercing blue eyes on him. ‘We don’t leave a man to drown, whoever he is.’
‘I’m sorry, but it’s just that…’
‘That we saved Larren, which cost Truegard his life and now we are saving Laughing Jack? We are duty bound.’
‘I’ll have him in irons the moment he’s on board,’ promised Chad.
Laughing Jack had only splashed a few strokes when the head of the first Orca surfaced beside him and with a surging lunge tossed him, arms flailing, high in the air. A second Orca threw him high again. This time the limbs hung lifeless and the limp head rolled. Like a rag doll he was cast high again, but the doll was missing an arm and a leg.
‘They enjoy a game,’ explained Chad.
Ancell watched, unable to move. Then his legs gave way and he crumpled to the deck.
‘No curling up,’ chivvied Chad, pulling him to his feet.
Ancell grabbed the bosun. ‘Did you see his eyes? He must have known all was lost, but he wasn’t swimming to us to be saved, but to kill!’
Chad shrugged. ‘Killing was on his mind and he got killed, that’s all there is to it! Stop shaking and be thankful the Orca saved us from being blown out of the water – and while you’re about it, be thankful you somehow succeeded not to fall off the bowsprit. I’ve never seen you move so fast!’
Ancell managed a smile. ‘Not as fast as you with an anaconda behind you!’
‘I had a feeling you might say that!’ said Chad, with a laugh.
‘She’s going,’ announced Tam calmly.
The crew turned to see the bow of the “The Executioner” silently slide beneath the waves. For a moment the water bubbled, and then there was nothing. They said nothing. The sinking of any ship was a terrible thing.
Chantal broke the silence. ‘We never thanked the whales. Will we see them again?’ she asked Skeet.
‘And the dolphins. We could go for a celebratory ride,’ added Merrie.
Skeet turned from staring at the water and squared his shoulders. ‘I don’t know about the whales and the dolphins,’ he replied, ‘but here come the Orca, and it looks like they’re on parade.’
Flanked by his lieutenants, Coran cruised up to Misty’s stern.
‘Mission complete!’ announced the commander.
‘You’ve saved nineteen lives this morning and rid the ocean of murderers,’ called the captain. ‘We can sail in peace now.’
‘I told you we didn’t like that ship,’ Coran replied.
‘So we noticed!’ yelled Chad gleefully.
‘Step forward the carpenter!’ ordered Coran.
Capt. Albern beckoned Chips, who reluctantly plodded to the stern rail, where he nervously removed his bowler and shuffled to attention.
‘Captain! Give him a medal!’ ordered the Orca. ‘That ram went in a treat!’
‘We’ll think of something,’ said the sea otter with a smile, as Chips visibly brightened.
‘We’ll never hear the last of this,’ groaned Waff.
‘Farewell to you captain, and remember the power of the Orca,’ called the commander.
‘That I will. We on board Misty, thank and salute you,’ replied Capt. Albern, and dipped Misty’s ensign. He and Skeet came smartly to attention, and the crew and the children followed suit as the Orca filed past in three columns, their black backs and white flanks gleaming in the morning sunshine. Then they picked up speed, and within minutes Misty was alone.
Chapter 20
Struggling to believe the last twelve hours had not been a dream, nobody said a word.
Jobey suddenly grabbed Pickle. ‘Pinch me!’ he urged. ‘Am I or am I not still alive?’
Pickle laughed. ‘Yes, we are still alive, and yes, we are still afloat. So what are you going to complain about now!’
The savoury aroma floating from the galley reminded everybody that they were not only alive but also very hungry. Capt. Albern inspected Misty while they ate, and the rest of the day was spent repairing the worst of the damage she had suffered. Chips and Waff dragged spare pieces of timber from her hold to splice into a makeshift boom, Chad and Skeet began the repairs to the shattered topside, and the children were conscripted to patch the rents in the topsail.
Ruth surveyed the canvas covering half the deck and sighed. ‘It’s wonderful that we’ll never see Laughing Jack again,’ she said. ‘But I do wish he hadn’t left us with all this work to do. It’ll take weeks.’
‘More like months,’ said Chantal, rubbing her sore fingers.
‘I’m already getting blisters and we’ve only just started,’ muttered Ryan.
‘I’m still hungry. I wish it was time for dinner,’ moaned Sassy.
‘Where’s Merrie? He should be doing his bit,’ grumbled Max.
They all looked up to see the harvest mouse supposedly holding a length of timber steady while Chips sawed.
‘How did he manage that?’ Sassy complained.
‘He hid below when he saw Waff sorting out the sewing needles,’ said Truename with a grin.
‘Typical!’ snorted Sassy.
At last The Cook leaned out of the galley to announce dinner. Chips, who had not stopped working for a moment, ate hungrily, and unusually removed his bowler to wipe his perspiring brow. Chad watched the carpenter’s eyes close and his head nod. Stealthily picking up the hat he disappeared into the bosun’s locker to return holding the bowler aloft with a large gold star painted on the crown.
‘Your medal, as commanded by the Orca!’ he announced, shaking Chips awake.
Chips jumped to his feet, outraged. ‘You’ve ruined my best hat!’ he yelled.
‘Your only hat,’ Waff reminded him.
‘I think it looks very smart!’ said Ruth, suppressing a giggle.
‘Every time we see it we’ll be reminded of the battering ram you made,’ said Chantal.
‘And you’ll know where the front is,’ added Max helpfully.
‘I think it’s very ungracious of you not to say thank you,’ said Chad with a smirk.
Chips eyed him suspiciously. ‘I suppose it’s better than nothing. But the moment we step ashore you can buy me another one,’ he grumbled.
Day and night, Misty continued to struggle in deceptive zephyrs of wind that promised to help her home, but then died.
‘First Laughing Jack tries to kill us. Now the skipper’s decided to work us to death,’ grumbled Jobey one breakfast time, and nobody disagreed. It was hard work keeping the ship moving, on top of which, Capt. Albern was finding one task after another for them to attend to.
The sea otter emerged from below and joined Skeet on the quarterdeck. ‘No wind today,’ he announced, stating the obvious.
Skeet smiled. The skipper always acknowledged him with an observation about the weather.
‘At least we’ve done most of the repairs while we’re not pitching about,’ he replied.
‘And I want them to stick at it,’ said the captain.
Skeet glanced at the weary crew. ‘They’re getting very tired, Skipper. Jobey’s complaining of a strained back.’
‘Glad t
o hear it! At least he’s back to his normal self. I don’t want anyone dwelling on the narrowness of our escape, and the remedy for that is a long day’s solid labour and a good night’s rest. How are the children faring?’
‘Tired, and complaining of sore fingers – they’ve worked hard on the topsail.’
‘Keep them at it Mr Skeet! The more exhausted they are the deeper they’ll sleep. We don’t want any nightmares about Laughing Jack and killer whales on this ship.’
Skeet wondered if he was now responsible for the children’s dreams. ‘Aye, aye! Skipper,’ he responded somewhat vaguely.
Capt. Albern’s strategy of keeping everyone hard at work was immediately thwarted when the dolphins surfaced alongside and the children ran to greet them. Merrie sprinted to the bow, searching for Noya, and waved with delight when she headed towards him.
‘Coming for a ride?’ she called.
Merrie was about to jump when Skeet grabbed his tail. He jumped anyway, but Skeet held firm and he was left unceremoniously dangling upside down before being hauled back on deck however much he kicked and squirmed.
‘Let me go! She’s waiting for me,’ he begged, but Misty’s mate was unyielding. To add to his fury, Chad lashed him to the rail.
‘They won’t let me,’ he shouted, almost in tears.
Noya looked disappointed. ‘What a shame! We could have had such fun,’ she called.
‘Don’t go! They can’t keep me tied up forever.’
‘I have to, we only called to say goodbye.’
‘Don’t go with them! Stay with us – with me.’
Noya shook her head. ‘Not a chance! My mother knows what I’m thinking the moment I think it. I’m glad you’re not hurt. We saw the guns firing.’
‘Please don’t go!’
‘Maybe we’ll meet again. I’ll look out for your ship. Goodbye Merrie,’ called Noya.
‘I’ll find you!’ shouted Merrie, straining at his bonds, but all he could see of his love was a swirl of water and the streak of her slender body. He blinked away bitter tears, thinking life was very cruel, and swearing never to speak to Skeet or Chad again.
Capt. Albern bade Adriel farewell. ‘If it’s not too late, will you thank the whales for us?’ he called.
‘I already have. They’re proud to have played a part. Everyone is rejoicing as far as the news has spread.’
‘And thank you for all your help. Will we see you again?’
‘We’re heading south now.’
‘Then, farewell!’
‘And we wish you a safe passage home,’ called Adriel.
The children and crew lined the rail to shout their good wishes as the dolphins turned south, swimming fast and leaping low over the waves. One lagged behind. She suddenly leaped high above the water, flashing in the sunlight as she twisted to look back at Merrie, before plunging in a column of spray. Then she, too, swam fast to catch up.
‘Plenty more dolphins in the sea,’ announced Chad cheerfully as he untied the harvest mouse. Merrie stalked off without a word. He thought it was the stupidest thing he had ever heard Chad say.
Everyone was occupied with their evening meal when The Cook poked his head from the galley holding an unclaimed plate and noticed Merrie standing alone at the bow.
‘Your dinner’s getting cold!’ he called.
‘Not hungry!’ shouted the harvest mouse, resolutely staring at the horizon.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ asked Ryan.
‘He wanted to swim with Noya,’ mumbled Max through a mouthful.
‘You need to get your strength up for tomorrow. You can’t avoid doing some sewing any longer,’ shouted Sassy.
Merrie marched through the midst of them without a word, and after reserving a special glare for Skeet and Chad, climbed to the sanctuary of the crowsnest. He scanned the empty ocean, and once thought he saw Noya swimming towards him, but it was no more than a wavelet glinting in the setting sun. He decided he would not be a sailor, but would make his home in a secluded cove. One day, Noya would come and every day they would play in the clear waters. He felt the ratlines shaking and turned his back on Truename.
‘It’s a lovely evening,’ said Truename, gazing up at the peaceful sky.
‘No it’s not! It’s a lousy evening,’ snapped the harvest mouse. Truename said nothing.
‘It’s so unfair!’ Merrie burst out. ‘If I’d been allowed to swim with Noya, maybe she would have stayed. Nobody cares how I feel.’
‘At least you have happy memories of swimming with her.’
‘What’s the good of a memory!’
‘You’d know if you didn’t have any,’ replied Truename bitterly.
Startled at the sharpness in Truename’s voice, Merrie faced him.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I bet you have lots of happy memories of home before your nest was destroyed. Whatever happens to you, those good times will always be with you. You can live them over and over again, and no one can take them from you. It would be sad to spend a lifetime without happy memories.’
‘I had a wonderful time with my brothers and sisters when we were little, that I’ll never forget.’
‘I’ve nothing nice to remember before Ancell rescued me.’
‘That’s bad,’ admitted Merrie, and pondered as the last of the sun slipped into the sea. ‘Tell you what!’ he said, inspired, ‘I’ll get up early tomorrow and start on the sewing. Then I’ll ask if we can have a break to fish. We’ll see who can catch the most. That’ll be a happy memory for you!’
Truename grinned. ‘Especially if I catch a big one and all you get is a minnow! By the way, The Cook is keeping your dinner warm if you want to eat.’
‘I’m famished!’ said Merrie, and scampered down the ratlines.
The Cook regarded Truename sombrely while the harvest mouse ate. ‘And I suppose you’re going to say collecting Merrie from the crowsnest has made you hungry again,’ he said.
‘Just a little bit,’ chanced Truename.
The Cook sighed. ‘Don’t get indigestion,’ he said, and cutting a thick slice from a freshly baked loaf smothered it in strawberry jam.
Chapter 21
‘They’re not far distant now,’ announced Capt. Albern, sniffing the air appreciatively early one afternoon.
‘The westerlies?’ asked Thom, easing the helm a little to keep Misty moving in the variable puffs of wind that came her way.
‘We’ll pick them up within twenty-four hours,’ promised the captain.
Dawn revealed distant clumps of cloud tramping across the horizon, and Misty’s crew relaxed with a mixture of relief and cheerful anticipation.
‘There’s our wind,’ Pickle told Jobey, slapping him on the back.
‘And about time too!’ grumbled Jobey, but smiled nonetheless.
At midday, free of the calms at last, Misty heeled to a freshening breeze and plunged northward. Preparing for the blows of the North Atlantic, the crew set the few heavy weather sails still serviceable. The result was a patchwork of canvas, which Waff viewed uneasily, suspecting there would be more stitching to do before they reached home.
One night, the children were awoken by the sound of running feet on deck and listened to the shouts of the crew reducing sail as Misty was overtaken by a southwesterly gale. They climbed on deck in the morning to see ragged clouds racing above her masts and spray hiss across the ship as she buried her bow into grey breaking seas. An hour later the topsail ripped without warning, and they watched anxiously as the crew clung to the lurching yard to secure the thrashing canvas.
The gale left Misty in its wake the following morning. Cotton wool clouds chased across a blue sky and the sea sparkled in the sunshine. Capt. Albern studied a chart, and in a celebratory mood loped to the galley humming a cheerful tune.
‘No more than four days before
we make landfall,’ he informed The Cook. ‘I assume we have plenty of food.’
The Cook peered into a steaming pot to mask a smile. He knew exactly what Misty’s master was angling for and wondered how long it would take him to come to the point.
‘Run out of some things,’ he grunted.
‘But we have the essentials?’
‘Depends on what you count as essential,’ parried The Cook, enjoying every moment.
Capt. Albern took a sudden interest in the galley ceiling. ‘For example, sweet things that will give the crew energy and keep them alert – there’s a lot of shipping in The Channel and we need to keep a sharp look out.’
‘Jam?’ suggested The Cook innocently. ‘We’ve got jam.’
The captain studied a row of ladles swinging on the wall. ‘I was thinking of things like, say, the treacle you loaded in South America. Lot of goodness in it you know.’
‘Without doubt,’ mumbled The Cook, breathing hard and trying to stifle his laughter.
‘A lot of nourishment,’ added the captain.
‘Indeed.’
‘Very nourishing.’
The Cook relented. ‘Then it’s just as well we have a jar left.’
‘Excellent!’ beamed the captain. ‘Better use it up right away. We don’t want the odd jar knocking about.’
‘Skipper, are you saying you would like treacle tart for dinner?’
‘Seeing as you mention it, I think that would be a very nice idea,’ agreed the sea otter, and wondering what The Cook found so unaccountably amusing, strolled back to his cabin.
The news of Misty’s imminent landfall soon spread throughout the ship, and the crew immediately placed bets on when they would first sight the coast. Skeet, who was barred from entering because he had access to the charts and the barometer, agreed to be stakeholder and to referee any dispute. Pickle was the most optimistic and Waff, gambling on the wind dropping, the least. Jobey had been the most pessimistic but had subsequently withdrawn his wager on the grounds that even if he was the winner, some calamity could sink them before he had the opportunity to collect his winnings.
