The frogs had the longest legs, which Angus thought would be most useful at a deeper water level, so they were on the bottom row. The sharks, with their short but strong side-to-side tail motion, were placed in the middle. The captain thought ducks should sit on top of the water. The yellow ducks and their splashing paddles were glued along the top.
They quickly ran out of glue, so the captain gathered more sap from the trees they had tapped the day before and began to cook it down. Angus had explained what had happened to the crow to impress upon Captain Hank not to leave the cedar sap unsupervised over the campfire. After meeting the talking seagull, the captain was more convinced than ever that Angus was a world-class animal trainer. Angus and Ivy didn’t even try to explain what had really happened.
While the captain was occupied with the glue, Angus began trying to solve the problem of keeping the wind-up toys wound. Ivy sat beside him on the beach as he fiddled with various found objects and talked to himself. She was learning that Angus did a lot of his thinking out loud.
“The rope would be easy to hold on to in the boat, but it’s too thick to wrap around the knobs,” Angus mumbled. “No, it won’t work. Stupid, stupid. String? Still too big … need something smaller. Rubber bands! Aha, yes! And string after …”
Ivy knew he’d figured out a solution when his eyes began to gleam and he shouted, “I’ve got it!”
“I’m all ears,” she prompted.
“Well, we need to be able to rewind the toys, but we can’t climb into the water every time to do it. And even if we could, we’d be winding constantly. We need all the toys to be wound simultaneously. I need to create a pull cord for each side of the boat,” said Angus.
“Okay,” said Ivy.
“But the problem is the size of the knobs,” said Angus. “They are tiny. They’re made small so that children can grip them easily. Even Captain Hank, as good as he is with his hands, can barely grasp the things; they’re so small. So what do we have that’s thin enough to wrap around the knobs, and then how do we connect that into a pull cord?”
“I don’t know. But I’m waiting to hear,” said Ivy.
“Rubber bands! Little ones. Absolutely tiny ones. Like the ones orthodontists use on braces,” said Angus.
“Where are you going to find those?” asked Ivy. “We’re on an island remember? There was a lot of garbage on the beach, but I didn’t see any dental junk.”
“We aren’t going to find rubber bands,” said Angus. “We’re going to make them!”
Angus borrowed Captain Hank’s knife and whittled a small driftwood stick into the approximate diameter of the wind-up toy knobs. Carefully, he dunked the stick into the bubbling glue and used the knife tip to shape the molten goo into several thin rings. He slowly rotated the stick horizontally causing the hot glue to adhere to itself without dripping off. After the glue had dried and cooled, he gently prodded it off the stick. He held the tiny “rubber” band gently between his fingers and tugged. It stretched slightly without breaking. When he let go, it returned to its original size. It took many tries, a lot of frustrated screams, and several angry stomps along the beach, but eventually Angus had perfected his technique and his supply of tiny elastic bands slowly grew.
The seagull nodded her head approvingly. “Inventor in training, indeed. Well done, Angus!”
Angus tested his idea on the captain’s duck. He stretched the tiny band around the knob. It took some time but it was possible. Next, he looped a thin piece of string through the rubber band and attempted to tie a small yet sturdy knot. His fingers fumbled, and he lost the end of the string. Then he had the end of the string but couldn’t quite tighten it adequately. Again and again he tried. After what felt like an eternity, he had finally tied the string to the rubber band to the toy.
“It works, but it will take us days, weeks maybe, to tie all these to a pull cord,” Angus groaned.
“Probably longer,” corrected the captain. “I don’t think I’ll be able to help you.” He held out his hands to show Angus how large his fingers were.
Angus’ shoulders slumped. He didn’t want to wait weeks to get off this island. The Fearsome Flea and his Insectivore Incinerator would be long gone by then.
Ivy piped up. “Maybe I can help!”
“How are you possibly going to help? You’ve got two webbed feet, two wings, and a thick bill. Thanks for the offer, but I think we’ll do better with fingers,” said Angus.
“There’s no need to be rude, Angus Clark!” scolded the seagull. “You can sit here and feel sorry for yourself for the next three weeks for all I care!” The insulted and angry Ivy flew off toward the pile of washed-up debris.
“That’s some bit of animal training, there, Angus,” said the captain.
Angus shoved himself to his feet and stalked off after Ivy. He found her rooting around in the refuse.
“Help me find a crate or something else we can use as a cage,” she said without looking at him. “And I know I’m in the garbage so don’t even think about comparing me to a rat again!”
Angus began sorting through the netting. “What are we doing this for?” he asked.
“You need to put me in a cage,” said Ivy.
“What?” Angus stopped and stared at her. “Whatever for?”
“I like this body. It’s fast and strong and I feel invincible. I don’t want to lose it,” said Ivy.
“Why would you lose it?” asked Angus.
“The seagull will fly away when I move bodies. I can’t help you build the boat in this one,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Maybe you should wrap me up in netting.”
Angus shook his head. “Too dangerous. What if the not-you seagull tries to escape and injures its wing in the rope?”
“Good point,” agreed Ivy.
“What if we drop you in Captain Hank’s sack? It’s dark, soft, and no holes to get stuck in,” suggested Angus.
“I guess that would work,” said Ivy.
“I’ll go get it,” offered Angus running off.
“Meet me at the forest,” Ivy called after him.
When they reunited a few minutes later, Ivy explained the plan to Angus. He would put her in the sack, carry her into the forest, and sit quietly a few feet from her until she called him. He would, under no circumstances, leave her alone. The seagull would be defenseless while trapped in the sack. He did as she instructed and sat down to wait, his back resting against a tree.
Angus sat in the dim forest and listened to the soft wind play with the boughs above his head. The moss beneath his legs and bottom was soft and cozy. He began to feel drowsy. He’d not been very successful at sleeping outdoors on the beach the night before. He didn’t know when exactly he dozed off, but he woke with a start to high-pitched, angry squeaking and a sharp pain in his finger. He looked at his hand and was surprised to see a little mouse standing on its hind legs squealing at him.
“I ask you to do one measly thing and you can’t even stay awake long enough!” The little animal’s whiskers twitched, and its front paws rested indignantly at its waist. It was all Angus could do not to laugh. The mouse saw him smile though and grew angrier still. “If you’re going to make fun of me you can just sit here on this island and rot! I don’t need to help you, you know!”
“Hey there, calm down Ivy!” insisted Angus. “I was just startled to see you as a field mouse, that’s all.”
“I’m not a field mouse! Do you see a field here? And you call yourself a scientist! I’m a shrew mouse! Get it right. Geesh! I should leave right now! Leave you to do this all yourself!” she squeaked at him.
“I’m sorry you’re feeling so upset. I apologize, okay? May I pick you up or did you want to bite my finger again?” asked Angus.
“I feel so angry! Everything is irritating me right now! Your big head bothers me! My skin itches! My front tooth hurts! Stop breathing on me! I just want to …. arggg … bite something!” announced Ivy. “Let me ride on your s
houlder and don’t just leave that bag laying over there. You’ve got to protect that seagull. I’m going to want to get back in there … this shrew mouse body is awful … I want to take it off!”
“Right now?” asked Angus scrambling to his feet and hustling over to the sack twitching on the forest floor.
“Of course not! That won’t help anything, you numbskull! The seagull can’t help you fix the boat! You need somebody small, and fast, and wily. That’s a shrew mouse.”
Chapter Sixteen: Seaworthy
The three friends worked late into the night. The two humans took turns holding a torch to light their efforts. Ivy was able to work quickly in the dark. “I have terrible vision even in the daylight. I prefer to use my other senses,” the shrew mouse explained.
Captain Hank glued the remaining wind-up toys to the second animal trough. Angus painstakingly wrapped a tiny elastic band around each knob. Ivy scurried from one toy to the next, lacing the thin strings through each knob and tying knots with her dexterous paws and cutting the string with her sharp teeth. Finally, Captain Hank gathered all the string ends and tied them to a rope, and then sealed the knot with the remaining glue.
When they were satisfied that the boat was completed, Angus carried the sleeping seagull and the tiny shrew mouse back to the forest. Ivy moved back into the gull’s body, and the terrified shrew ran into the underbrush. Angus opened the sack to release Ivy and walked back to the beach. He and the captain fell straight to sleep. Angus must have been exhausted, because he slept soundly until Captain Hank shook him awake the next morning.
Angus pulled the woolen blanket over his head and rolled on to his side. “Leave me alone. Tired. More sleep.”
The woolen blanket flew off him. “Get your lazy self up!” chided the captain. “The tide’s in this morning. We need to get the boat in the water. Right now!”
Angus groaned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He blinked, squinting against the glare burning through the light morning fog. Captain Hank reached his large hand down and hauled Angus to his feet. He tossed Angus’ pants to him, and Angus hurriedly put them on. There was no sign of Ivy yet this morning.
He stumbled along behind the energetic captain. They each grabbed a side of the boat and pushed. It jutted along toward the lapping water and they climbed in. The hard plastic was a bit uncomfortable, and Angus imagined how stiff and sore his body would feel after sitting in the boat for several hours. He opened his mouth to complain, but then he saw the tall captain in the other animal trough. He had squeezed his lanky body into the rigid plastic enclosure. His long legs were crammed tightly into the opening. His angular chin rested on his bony knees. He saw Angus looking at him and smiled jovially.
“I’ve sailed in worse,” he grinned.
“Wait! We forgot an anchor!” said Angus.
“No need,” responded the captain. “We’re just going to test her seaworthiness. If she floats, we’ll take her around to East Beach and tether her by the cliff. If she sinks, we’ll know soon enough and haul her back up here.”
A large wailing call broke through the fog, and Ivy splashed down beside them. “The boat seems to be floating.”
And indeed it was.
“Let’s try out the motor,” suggested Angus.
“Yes. On three,” agreed Captain Hank.
“One, two, three,” counted Ivy.
Angus gave his rope a gentle tug. Nothing happened. The captain’s side wasn’t working either. Maybe he hadn’t pulled hard enough?
“Count again,” said the captain.
“One, two, three,” said Ivy.
Angus used more force the second time. After a millisecond delay the motor sprang to life. With a quiet splashing sound reminiscent of a wood duck landing on a pond, the strange vessel began to move forward. It cut slowly, ploddingly, through the waves that were still moving toward shore.
“We’ll move faster if we wait until the tide starts flowing out again,” observed Angus.
“Yes, but if there’s a problem it will be more difficult to get back to shore,” explained the captain. “Once we’re sure she works, we can wait for the outgoing tide.”
“Aye, aye, Captain!” said Angus saluting like a sailor. The captain grinned appreciatively at him.
After a few short minutes the splashing stopped. Angus looked to Captain Hank and awaited orders. “Again!” announced the captain. Angus tugged the rope, and the boat began moving again. After a few more minutes the boat stopped. “That’s not going to work,” said the captain. “We can’t just stop dead in the water. We have to pull at different times so some part of the motor is always running. You pull, I’ll count to ten, and then I’ll pull. That will send us forward.”
“What if we want to turn?” asked Angus.
“Have you ever rowed a canoe?” asked Captain Hank.
“My parents took me a few times,” said Angus.
“What did you do if you wanted to turn?”
Angus considered for a moment. “If I wanted to go left, I’d paddle on the right side. To turn right, I’d paddle on the left.”
“Exactly.” The captain beamed at him. “When we’re facing the front, or the bow of a boat, the left of the boat is the port side. The right is called starboard. I’m sitting on the starboard side, so if we want to turn to port, I’ll pull my rope. You’re sitting on the port side, so you’ll pull if we want to turn to starboard. Make sense?”
Angus nodded. “Can we try it?”
“Sure,” agreed the captain. “Let’s go forward first, and then we’ll practice turning.”
Angus pulled his cord, the captain pulled his, and they practiced different combinations of forward motion and turning. Ivy interrupted their exercises announcing, “I’m flying back to shore before all the food’s gone.”
Seagulls flocked to the beach where the receding tide had exposed a banquet of shellfish. Neither Angus nor the captain had noticed that the tide had changed. “Looks like we’re on our way,” said the captain.
The three friends met up again an hour later at East Beach. Captain Hank unfolded his stiff legs from the boat and climbed out in to the rocky shallows. He stretched his aching back and tight leg muscles. Angus tossed him a rope and the captain tethered the boat to some overhanging tree limbs. Angus climbed out and the two waded to shore.
A seagull was chasing the surf up and down the beach poking hopefully at broken shells and marine detritus as they washed up.
“Ivy? Is that you?” called Angus.
The seagull dropped the empty shell it was holding and squawked at him. “Yes! What took you so long?”
“We were fighting currents the entire way,” explained the captain. “The island and shallow rocks create them. I expect the boat will move faster when we’re farther from land.”
“Well? What’s the plan?” asked Ivy.
“We get in the boat and chase the Fearsome Flea,” said Angus.
“Yes, obviously.” The seagull rolled her eyes. “But then what? What do we do once we find it?”
Angus and the captain stared blankly at each other.
“You have got a plan, haven’t you?” pressed Ivy.
They looked at her.
“I mean, you have given it a little bit of thought? You don’t think we’ll just arrive, ring the doorbell, and the pirates will cheer for your safe return and invite you to stay for dinner and a movie, do you?” she asked sarcastically.
“There are no movies onboard the Fearsome Flea,” said Captain Hank, happy to finally be able to offer some information.
Ivy snorted.
“No projector,” he added.
She glared at him.
“No videos either.” His voice trailed off, and he looked humbly at his feet.
“I guess I was so focused on building a boat and getting off the island, I didn’t think about what would happen next,” said Angus.
The three friends stood blinking at each other.
“Well, I’m hungry.” The captain
broke the silence. “I’m going to start a fire and get something cooking.”
“That’s a start,” said Ivy. “Then what?”
“If you’re so smart why don’t you offer a suggestion?” whined the captain. “Begging your pardon, Angus. But your pet can be truly exasperating.”
“No need to apologize,” Angus grinned. He wasn’t an expert on seagull facial expressions but it sure looked like Ivy was scowling at being called his pet. “I agree, sometimes she is a bit annoying.” Ivy squawked at him, ruffled her feathers, and flew off.
“You do know she’s right though?” asked the captain once they were alone.
“Of course she is. We need a plan.” Angus thought for a moment. “If you were still pirating, how would you board an enemy ship?”
“Well, I’d raise the Jolly Roger. Send warning shots over her bow. Maybe come up alongside her and sprinkle her with case shot,” said the captain. “It’s all based on bluster, a show of strength. You strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. Either they surrender or you board and fight. You and me and your seagull in a tiny plastic boat coated in children’s toys?”
“Not exactly awe-inspiring,” concluded Angus.
The captain shook his head sadly.
“You’ll need to sneak on to the ship,” said Ivy, who had flown up silently behind them. “Your boat has two things going for it. It’s quiet, and it’s small. If you arrive under cover of darkness, you can sneak aboard, find Angus’ contraption-thingy, and sneak back off before the pirates even know you’re there.”
“That would work,” said Angus. “But what about the captain? How’s he going to get the Fearsome Flea back?”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “I can’t think of everything! We can help him get back on his ship, but he’s going to have to figure out how to get his crew to follow him again.”
“And that’s the hardest part,” sighed the captain.
It was decided that Ivy would perform a reconnaissance mission to discover where the Fearsome Flea was. The captain and Angus sat down for a warm meal and then retired to the hut for an afternoon nap. They would set out in their small plastic boat at dusk so the pirates would not observe their slow approach.
The Pirate's Booty (Inventor-in-Training) Page 11
