by Paul Stewart
‘And what if we were?’ stormed Serena. ‘What’s that got to do with you?’
‘Serena, please,’ said Jon – Jolyon, laying a spotlessly clean hand on her arm. ‘I’m only trying to help. You don’t know Arthur like I do. There’s only ever been one true love in his life, and he’ll never leave her …’
Serena pulled her arm away, but she was clearly hanging on Jon – Jolyon’s every word. ‘Who?’ she breathed.
Jon – Jolyon laughed. ‘Why, the S.S. Euphonia, of course!’
Serena smiled, getting up to leave. ‘Oh, I think I can handle the Euphonia.’
‘That’s what all the girls say,’ said Jon – Jolyon airily, examining his fingernails.
‘All the girls?’ said Serena, sitting down again.
‘Oh, did I forget to mention the girls?’ said Jon – Jolyon smoothly. ‘Yes, Arthur has one in every port. Of course, if you ask him, he’ll deny it. But one thing he can’t deny is that he’ll never leave the Euphonia – whereas I, on the other hand, have great plans. Why, I was telling your mother only the other day
But Serena was no longer listening. She had jumped to her feet and dashed to the safety railing, her jaw set and her eyes wet with tears …
And then an extraordinary thing happened. The man from Cabin 21 got up out of his deckchair, rummaged in the pocket of his white suit and pulled out a handkerchief (which was also white, with an embroidered blue H in the corner) and handed it to Serena. Then he walked slowly away.
Jon – Jolyon leaped up, waving his own handkerchief (which was red with white polka dots), but Serena rushed past him and fled back to her cabin, holding the white handkerchief to her eyes. Corby turned on her heel, gave Jon – Jolyon a furious look, and strode off along the deck.
She was just going down the stairs when her left foot landed on something soft, squishy and extremely sticky.
Yukv she exclaimed, lifting her foot and examining it.
Long, gloopy strands of glistening white stuff were strung out between the deck and the bottom of her deck shoe. She looked more closely, poking tentatively at the goo and putting her fingers to her nose. They smelled of sweetness and vanilla.
‘A marshmallow,’ she muttered, her top lip curling. ‘How disgusting.’
It wasn’t that Corby didn’t like marshmallows. Sometimes, when they all went camping, she and her brothers would stay up half the night, telling each other ghostly stories and toasting marshmallows. They had tasted delicious. A marshmallow on the bottom of your shoe, however, was something else – particularly on a day so hot that it had turned it to a sticky mess.
Corby opened Hoffendinck’s Guide and very carefully tore off the corner of the ‘Notes’ page. The picture of a laughing goat on the page opposite caught her eye. She paused a moment as she read the words above it …
HOFFENDINCK’s GUIDE
TOWNS OF THE
DALCRETIAN COAST
DORALAKIA
The small, isolated town of Doralakia is widely regarded as the hidden jewel of the Dalcretian coast. Situated on the very tip of the Dalcretian peninsula, the lights from its extraordinary tower houses are a familiar sight to passing ships.
The tower houses of Doralakia are to be found nowhere else, and are well worth a visit, as is the pretty little harbour with its friendly tavern and small grocery store.
The Doralakians are among the most hospitable and friendly of all the Dalcretians. Their ‘Longest Afternoon’ festival is the most elaborately celebrated in all Dalcretia, and is especially famed for the appearance of the town’s remarkable laughing goat.
What an interesting place, thought Corby, closing the guide.
Using the scrap of paper, she scraped the marsh – mallow off the sole of her shoe as best she could, and continued – the tackiness catching on the floor with every step. At the stairs, she looked down and frowned. A second marshmallow was lying there. A pink one.
Picking it up, Corby continued down the stairs, only to find a third marshmallow – another pink one – lying on the half – landing between the two flights. She paused thoughtfully.
One dropped marshmallow could have been an accident, two dropped marshmallows looked like carelessness – but three, well, that was a trail, and Corby found herself searching around for others. Sure enough, halfway down the next flight of stairs were two more – one white and one pink – stuck together and nestling in the corner. She picked them up, too.
On the next deck down Corby saw a white marshmallow lying in the middle of the scuffed decking, and a second one a little further along, and a third a little further after that. She looked down, and took a sharp intake of breath.
The trail of marshmallows seemed to be leading to a door just down from Cabin 21. Corby followed the trail, gathering the marshmallows as she did so, until she came to the door. Then, with her heart beating louder than ever, she seized the door handle and turned it. The door swung open and Corby stepped inside, to find herself …
… in a broom cupboard!
For a moment she stood there, surrounded by mops and brooms and buckets, with a handful of marsh – mallows in one hand and Hoffendinck’s Guide in the other, feeling pretty stupid.
And then she heard it. The saddest song, rising and falling, like a sad wolf singing to the moon, or a lonely songbird calling to its mate – and it seemed to be coming from somewhere very close by.
Corby reached out and pushed the wall at the back of the broom cupboard. Except it wasn’t a wall. It was another door – heavy, made of metal, and ever so slightly ajar. Holding her breath, Corby leaned forwards and peeked into the room beyond.
At first she could barely make anything out. But slowly, her eyes became accustomed to the gloom.
She saw a huge, shadowy storeroom, stacked high with hessian sacks, tea chests and labelled boxes, and enormous varnished sea chests, some of which she recognized as belonging to her own family. As for the saddest song, it seemed to be coming from a row of large wooden crates in the far corner of the cargo hold.
As quietly as she could, Corby stepped through the broom cupboard door and into the dark hold. She tiptoed through the maze of cargo, scarcely daring to breathe, until she came to the wooden crates. Something rustled at her feet and the singing abruptly stopped.
Looking down, Corby noticed a large paper packet with a hole in the bottom. She nudged it with her shoe. It was empty. Then she heard the sound of breathing and snuffling and, looking up, she saw something between the slats of one of the large wooden crates.
It was a big, sad, doleful eye, and it was looking straight at her.
10. The Halfway-There Ceremony
he heard my song and she came. A little girl came. Not the little girl from the palace gardens, but another little girl There were tears in her eyes.
She gave me white petals, lots of sweet white petals, and whispered to me. I couldn’t understand, but her voice was soft and soothing. And I didn’t feel sad … for a little while.
‘A little less speed and a little more caution,’ said Captain Belvedere gloomily, climbing to his feet.
‘I’m sorry, Captain,’ said Corby, who had been sneaking out of the broom cupboard and run straight into him.
Corby scrabbled about on her hands and knees,
picking up Hoffendinck’s Guide and several bits of paper that had fallen out of it. There was Mr Times – Roman’s card, a leaflet showing the correct way to use the foot – spa in her cabin, her ticket stub, a crumpled photograph of the Tamberlaine – Marx Crossing taken just before it collapsed and …
‘I believe you dropped this, little girl,’ said Captain Belvedere gloomily, handing her a half – torn label that had stuck to his shoe.
‘Yes, thank you,’ said Corby, taking it – secretly grateful that the captain hadn’t thought to read it.
She opened her Hoffendinck’s Guide and hastily stuck the label on a blank page …
HOFFENDINCK’s GUIDE
THE HALFWAY – THERE
CEREMONY
The origins of the ‘Halfway – There’ Ceremony are as mysterious as the ceremony itself. Instituted aboard the S.S. Euphonia on her maiden voyage, it has been faithfully carried out on each subsequent ocean crossing, a tradition that has spread to other ships. Legend has it that failure to observe the ceremony will result in the vessel never reaching its destination, and being condemned to sail the ocean for ever, perpetually ‘halfway there’.
The ceremony itself involves the crew and passengers donning fancy dress and having a big party. Traditional games such as ‘Blind Mermaid’s Buff and ‘Musical Icebergs’ are played late into the night to appease the sea god Neptune and his wife ‘Flotsam Florrie’, who are played by the captain and the first officer.
SOME SUGGESTED FANCY DRESS COSTUMES:
The Dancing Pig of Fedrun
A Captain’s Uniform
A First Officer’s Uniform
A Mermaid
(Anything really except a clown costume, as this is considered
very bad luck.)
Then she snapped Hoffendinck’s Guide shut and smiled innocently at the captain.
Corby had torn the label off the large wooden crate. She was sure that, if she showed it to her father and told him all about the creature locked inside and the sad song it sang, he would know just what to do.
She dashed off in the direction of her parents’ cabin at the other end of the ship.
‘Don’t forget the Halfway – There Ceremony, little girl,’ Captain Belvedere’s gloomy voice called out after her. ‘Everybody has to be there. No exceptions – even for me. More’s the pity …’
But Corby didn’t hear him because she was too intent on looking out for the Brotherhood of Clowns. Luckily, she managed to reach the corridor leading to the cabins without seeing any sign of them, and was just breathing a huge sigh of relief when the door to the laundry room clanged open.
She skidded to a halt as Mr Times – Roman, followed by Mr Franklin – Gothic, Mr Bembo, Mr Palatino and Mr Garamond (who was holding a large packet of marshmallows in his hand), stepped into the corridor. They were all wearing their freshly laundered suits,
which seemed to have shrunk several sizes in the wash.
Mr Times – Roman turned stiffly to face Corby. Round his neck he wore a large brace. He took a step towards her, his green bowler hat wobbling on his head, his fingers twitching and his tiny jacket bunching up round his shoulders.
‘So,’ he snarled, ‘we meet again—’
Just then, there came a loud peal of laughter. With a grunt of pain, Mr Times – Roman spun round.
Oh, I’m so sorry!’ squealed Mrs Flood. ‘It’s just that you gentlemen have no idea how funny you look!’
She tried in vain to stifle her laughter as she bustled past the scowling Brotherhood of Clowns and took Corby’s hand.
‘There you are, darling! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!’ she giggled. ‘If you don’t hurry up, you’ll be late for the Halfway – There Ceremony – and we can’t have that, can we, gentlemen?’
The brotherhood raised their green bowler hats, but Mr Times – Roman’s smile was as thin as paper as Mrs Flood ushered Corby into her cabin and closed the door. From inside the cabin there came the sound of helpless laughter.
Mr Times – Roman grimaced. ‘Nobody laughs at the Brotherhood of Clowns,’ he snarled, ‘and gets away with it!’
The gramophone on the foredeck was wound up and the sound of Dame Ottoline Ffarde singing ‘Daisy’s Lament’ filled the warm night air for the umpteenth time. Beside it, an extraordinary – looking individual in a long green wig and skirt, and carrying a trident, reached out a hand and raised the needle. The strange array of dancers in front of him froze as the music stopped.
A plump man dressed up in a large cardboard seashell wobbled unsteadily on one foot.
‘You moved!’ said Lieutenant Jon – Jolyon Letchworth – Crisp, pointing his trident.
Mr Garamond, who was meant to be a spitting whelk, looked up and started to shuffle off.
‘No, not you!’ said Letchworth – Crisp. You!’
Arthur, who was standing as still as a rock and looking extremely handsome in a crisp white first officer’s uniform, shrugged.
‘If you say so, Flotsam Florrie!’ he laughed. He went to sit on a deckchair beside a table on which a large plate lay, piled high with sardine sandwiches. Next to it stood an equally large jug of coconut milk with NEPTUNE’s TIPPLE written in red letters on the side, and a huge tureen of cold rice pudding with a flag on the top, which read FLORRIE’s BLANCMANGE.
It’s “Sir” to you,’ said Jon – Jolyon, with all the dignity he could muster and, adjusting his tangled green wig, he placed the gramophone needle back on the record.
‘Oh, sweet Alfred, my heart is breaking …’ sang the voice of Dame Ottoline Ffarde on the crackly record.
… And my feet are aching! thought Corby as she attempted to dance – which wasn’t easy, especially as she was dressed as a bumblebee (her mother’s idea) and being stared at by five disgruntled clowns, who were dressed up as Lemuel Gibbons and four spitting whelks.
The music stopped again.
‘You, you, you and you!’ said Jon – Jolyon, pointing to Mr Garamond, Corby, Mrs Hattenswiller (who seemed to be dressed as a teapot) and the man from Cabin 21 who had come as, Corby guessed, the Dancing Pig of Fedrun, although she couldn’t be certain.
That just left Serena, who was dressed in a dazzling white gown with silver thunderbolts in her hair, and a sash across her shoulder emblazoned with the words SPIRIT OF THE EUPHONIA.
‘You win,’ Neptune told her gloomily from his deckchair throne, which was festooned with gold cardboard seashells. ‘I suppose Neptune and Flotsam Florrie have been appeased, but we’d better have one more game of Blind Mermaid’s Buff,’ he said, ‘just to be on the safe side
Corby groaned. This was the worst party she’d ever been to. For a start, nobody was allowed to touch the food. ‘It’s purely symbolic,’ Jon – Jolyon had pointed out snootily, which was just as well, because it was also horrid. What was more, there were only two party games, both of which were excruciatingly dull, and which they’d had to play over and over again, ‘to appease Neptune!’ as Jon – Jolyon had reminded them all.
Beside her, the Flood boys were just as bored. They’d dressed up as their sporting heroes. Cedric was ‘Buffy’ Mandrake, the deck – croquet ace. Hubert was L. P. Smythe of the Old Mustardians. Ernest was ‘Flim – Flam’ Andrews, the table – lacrosse champion. And Toby was Teddy Luscombe, who’d taken a record twenty – three wickets only last season.
Serena seemed to be avoiding Arthur, and her father – dressed in Dalcretian national dress, with an oversized fedrun – was too distracted to talk to, since he was listening out for the ‘mysterious clunk’ and doing calculations on the back of his hand. Only Mrs Flood seemed to be having a good time. She was swaying about in a giant Lissari turban and flowing skirt, teasing the Brotherhood of Clowns,
who looked more peculiar than ever in their outlandish costumes.
‘Blind Mermaid’s Buff,’ announced Jon – Jolyon, placing a paper bag over Mr Palatino’s head and spinning him around.
Everyone else had to stand on one leg. Mr Palatino sneaked a look out of a rip in the bag and tiptoed towards Corby, muttering under his breath. Corby was just about to scream, when Mr Palatino slipped on a sardine sandwich that had fallen from the table. He crashed to the floor and the sandwich shot up into the air.
‘Fire in the hold!’ shouted Hubert, leaping up and catching the sandwich in one hand.
‘Well played, sir!’ shouted Cedric.
‘Shall we?’ laughed Ernest, and the others all nodded.
‘Food fight!’ Toby yelled.
The Flood boys grabbed handfuls of sardine sandwiches and dollops of cold rice pudding, and Arthur picked up the jug of coconut milk.
‘I say!’ protested Jon – Jolyon. ‘That food is—’
Arthur upended the jug over Flotsam Florrie’s head. ‘Purely symbolic!’ he laughed.
A hail of sardines and soggy bread flew through the air as the Hattenswiller teapot and teacup ran for cover, and bumped into the Dancing Pig of Fedrun. Mrs Flood shrieked with laughter as the Brotherhood of Clowns fled a rain of cold rice pudding.
‘Nobody laughs at the … ppubl! … plubb! … pplubP spluttered Mr Times – Roman as a dollop hit him squarely in the face.
Mr Flood didn’t seem to notice the sardine stuck to the side of his fedrun hat as he furiously worked out the sprocket ratio of the Wibbler mesh – wheel. Serena strode off to her cabin, followed by a dripping Jon – Jolyon.
‘Boys will be boys!’ laughed Mrs Flood. They’re just letting off a bit of steam. After all, it is meant to be a party.’
‘Whiffl – whiffl,’ said Mrs Hattenswiller.
‘Mmum – mumm,’ said Mr Hattenswiller.
The Dancing Pig of Fedrun adjusted his dark glasses and walked off in the direction of Cabin 21.
‘Neptune is satisfied,’ declared Captain Belvedere gloomily, pulling off his cardboard crown. ‘I declare the Halfway – There Ceremony over!’ He wiped his brow. ‘And thank goodness is all I can say …’
The Flood boys and Arthur gave a cheer.
‘Time for bed,’ said Mrs Flood cheerfully. ‘You too, my little bumblebee,’ she said to Corby. ‘It’s been a long day.’
‘But I wanted to show Father—’ Corby began, opening Hoffendinck’s Guide.
‘By jingo! I’ve got it!’ cried her father, examining the equation on the back of his hand and rushing over to Arthur. ‘Arthur, me lad!’ he said. ‘Get changed. We’ve got a long night ahead of us!’
Corby looked on as the pair of them strode away. Her mother took her by the hand. ‘Whatever it is, dear,’ she said, ‘I’m sure it’ll keep till morning.’
