Monster Pirate Cheese Boy

by Suzanna Stanbury

  “No, master,” squeaked the pirate. “My name is Nathan Brightness. I’m only cross-eyed because that darn monkey is a swinging on my breeches!” Grabbing at the swaying monkey, Nathan managed to dislodge Mr Spinks. With a well-aimed punch, he sent the monkey flying right into the well-seasoned coil of rope.

  “Well done, Nathan Brightness,” said the Captain. “That monkey deserved a pasting of seagull ploppings, if ever a creature did. What job do you hold?”

  “I’m cabin boy, Master.” Nathan removed the tiny hat perched on top of his pumpkin-sized head. He swiped it at the monkey which had come chattering back, pulling on the hem of his jacket. “Gerroff!” said Nathan, pushing Mr Spinks away with his foot.

  “Aren’t you a bit big for a cabin boy?” said Captain Thunders.

  “As far as I know, Master,” said Nathan, “thar’s no height restriction on cabin boys.”

  Captain Thunders rolled his eyes. “Well, Spider Sam,” he said. “If there’s no-one else I suppose they’ll do for now.”

  “Does that mean we’re in?” asked Pete.

  Spider Sam nodded. Cheers echoed around the ship, within moments flagons of rum had appeared and Nathan produced an accordion

  “It’s a pirate’s life we craves,

  As we sails across the waves.

  We’ll take a ship and empty ‘er hold,

  We’ll steal yer rum and pinch yer gold.

  Ooo arrrr, we’re pirates bad and bold!”

  Hooknose took the wheel and The Merry Mary headed out to sea. Captain Thunders watched his men singing and dancing, swigging their rum, smoking foul-smelling pipes stuffed with thick brown tobacco.

  “Groo!” Captain Thunders coughed, spluttered and choked and soon he began to feel quite sick and very dizzy.

  *

  Alfie opened his eyes under a blue and yellow sky and quickly realised he had woken up under the chequered table cloth. Crawling right to the end, he peeked out to discover lots of legs still surrounding the table.

  “Phew!” muttered Alfie. “Everyone’s still here.” He climbed out, licking his lips at the food. “Yum,” he said, grabbing a ham sandwich and stuffing it into his mouth.

  “There you are, Alfie!” His mother appeared by his side. “I was so worried. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Where on earth have you been?”

  “Pointy Island!” replied Alfie, cramming another sandwich into his mouth.

  Chapter Six

  The Jolly Roger

  The drone of Miss Pinches’ voice had sent Alfie to sleep. Slumped over the desk dreaming of Pirateland, his head resting on his hands, Alfie’s arm suddenly slipped and he bolted upright.

  “Whazzurt?”

  “ALFIE!” Miss Pinches stalked down the central gangway. “Were you asleep?”

  “No, Miss Pinches,” said Alfie, stifling a yawn. “Wide awake, see?” Picking up two pencils, he started drumming on the desk, wiggling in his seat. The other children began giggling.

  “For goodness sake, Alfie.” Miss Pinches, a vision of blonde-haired ferocity in a mauve skirt-suit waved her finger. “Listen to the lesson and don’t distract the others again – or I shall send you out of the classroom.”

  Grinning wickedly, Alfie remained still for a fraction of a second then began bouncing up and down on his chair. “Listening! Listening!”

  “ALFIE!” Miss Pinches pointed a lilac tipped finger at the door. “Go outside, sit on the bench and stay there until I call you back inside.”

  Alfie, arms held wide like the wings of an aeroplane, zoomed out of the classroom. “Ner – alm!” The fighter jet exited, the door banged closed and Alfie found himself alone in the corridor. Sunshine filtered in through the high window. A bluebottle buzzed through the sunbeam, settled onto the bench opposite the classroom, turning in circles.

  “Get off my seat.” Alfie flicked the fly away and sat down. It was quiet in the corridor, just a hum from Miss Pinches’ classroom and distant singing coming from the music room. Sticking his nose in the air, Alfie sniffed.

  “Mmm.” Still sniffing, he headed towards the source of the aroma. Alfie stood on tiptoe and peeked through the little glass panes in the dining hall door. All was activity in the school kitchen. Bustling ladies swathed in dark green overalls lugged enormous pots, stirring vats of steaming food. They clattered, bashed and banged, all the time the ladies were laughing and calling to one another.

  Alfie pushed the door open and slipped into the dining hall. Ducking down, he moved beneath the serving counter, edging steadily closer to the kitchen. The hatch was open. Still hunched over, Alfie shuffled through. Only one woman was in view, humming to herself while arranging a line of large metal trays on the counter top to cool. She bustled off around the corner.

  To Alfie’s delight, the trays contained dozens of quiches – very cheesy-smelling, bubbling rounds. Quick as lightening, covering his hands with his sleeves, he grabbed two of the quiches, running back through the hatch and out into the corridor.

  The caretaker’s cupboard was right in front of him. Darting his eyes up and down the corridor, and still finding it quiet with not a soul about, Alfie tried the handle with his elbow and the door swung open. He zipped into the cupboard, closing the door behind him with his foot.

  “Yowch.” Alfie dropped the quiches on top of an upturned bucket and blew on his fingers. “Hot, hot, hot!”

  The cupboard had just one window. A small one, set up high up in the wall. The glass was covered with mesh, allowing in just enough light for the caretaker to locate his brooms, cloths and buckets. Alfie tipped a bucket upside down and sat on it. Unable to resist it any longer, he ripped off a piece of quiche, stuffing it into his mouth.

  “Argh!” Alfie spat the quiche into his hand then fanned his steaming tongue. When the quiche had cooled a little, he put it back in his mouth. “Yum, mega cheesy!” he said, chewing quickly.

  Carrying on this bizarre, and disgusting practice, he managed to eat both quiches without scalding himself with molten eggs.

  “Cor, I’m full.” Alfie leaned back on his bucket. “Full of quichy weechy! Oh, dear.”

  “BURP!” He fell sideways from the bucket, landing in a messy jumble on the cupboard floor.

  *

  “Too much rum, Cap’n?” Spider Sam turned his good eye on Captain Thunders, who lay sprawled in the middle of the deck.

  “Can’t take his drink. HAH!” The red eyes of Vanessa could be seen peeping over the brim of Spider Sam’s hat.

  Captain Thunders rose up to his full height of six feet and seventeen inches. Glaring down at Vanessa, he burped a big quiche scented burp all over her.

  “Urgh!” she cried. “What have you been eating?”

  “CHEESE!”

  Vanessa tried to swat the smell away with all eight of her legs.

  “Where are we, Spider Sam?” asked Captain Thunders.

  As far as the eye could see there was water. Waves dipped and soared, foam licked the deckrail as The Merry Mary bobbed over an endless expanse of greeny-blue ocean.

  Spider Sam lowered his eyeglass. “Far out to sea, sir. No signs of any other vessels – yet.”

  “Cap’n! ‘S'cuse me, Cap’n.” Up scuttled Unlucky Pete. Shifting nervously from foot to foot, Pete’s restless hands wrung at his woolly hat. Over and over he twisted it in his grip.

  “What?” Captain Thunders frowned. “Stop hopping around like you’ve got a scorpion in your breeches. Whatever is mithering you – spit it out!”

  Unlucky Pete did just that and a wad of soggy tobacco landed on Captain Thunders’ boot.

  “Ugh!” The Captain tried to flick the brown gunge from his toe. “You rancid little squidlet, c’mere.” He lunged at Pete, who dodged neatly out of the way almost toppling the Captain. But, as he fell forwards Captain Thunders seized Pete’s neckerchief and yanked him off his feet. “There!” he said, wiping the toe of his boot on the back of Unlucky Pete’s breeches. “The perfect boot-scrap
er.”

  “Cap’n,” said Unlucky Pete. “I was trying to tell you – there’s a ship on the horizon, port side.”

  “Why didn’t you say so, you barnacle-brained, sea-weed?” Captain Thunders ran to the right hand rail. Squinting in the sunshine he could see nothing. “Where? I can’t see any ship – where’s a ship?”

  “Err, Cap’n.” Unlucky Pete pointed. “Port’s to the left.”

  “I knew that.” Captain Thunders crossed the deck and looked out. “Aha! It’s a big one too.”

  “Frigate,” said Unlucky Pete. “No, Cap’n, no! A frigate’s a ship.”

  “I knew that!” Captain Thunders looked up at the mast. “Come on, you lot, stop lazing about. Ship ahoy. Hoist the Jolly Roger and let’s get a pirating!”

  Hearing the Captain bawling, Nathan sprang into action at once and soon the red flag ran down the main mast, to be replaced with the Pirate’s Standard. The black flag with its white skull and crossbones waved in the wind on the top most point of the ship as The Merry Mary picked up speed.

  “Hic!” said the Captain. “That confounded qui-hic! Hic, hic. Get off me!”

  Mr Spinks had bounded onto the Captain’s shoulder. The little monkey tweaked the Captain’s beard, jangling his gold bell, then he began flicking the silver skull dangling from his ear.

  “I said get… hic! …off!” Captain Thunders swatted the monkey. Shrieking, Mr Spinks raced up the rigging, not stopping until he reached the crow’s nest where he sat gibbering and shaking his tiny fist.

  “Yeah – hic – I’m so scared – hic – Whaaaa!”

  “What?” Spider Sam shrugged. “Sorry Cap’n. I thought it would help shock your hiccups away. Don’t squash Vanessa – she’ll probably crawl out of your sleeve if you wriggle about a bit.”

  “Agh!” Captain Thunders bounced so hard on the deck it squeaked and shook. “She’s in my armpit, I can feel her feet tickling me!” Ripping off his jacket ,the Captain flung it on the deck. He tore his shirt over his head, flapping it like a sheet in the wind until Vanessa plopped out.

  “Watch it,” she said. “I feel all dizzy now after that shaking you gave me.”

  “That’s it!” howled Captain Thunders, raising his foot. “You’re spider paté!”

  “Hiccups have gone, I hear.” Vanessa scuttled away from the threat of a spider squashing.

  “Told you that would work,” called Spider Sam, tying a rope. “A good shock always cures the hiccups. And there’s nothing like a nice fat spider down the neck to give you a fright.”

  “Captain,” said Hooknose, spinning the wheel. “We’re almost upon the frigate. We should make haste to board her. Come, Mr Spinks.” Hooknose beckoned to his monkey. “Come down from there, we shall need you when we board.”

  “What’s that monkey going to do?” asked the Captain, shrugging back into his jacket. “And what on earth are you doing shaving at a time like this? We’ll be on them in moments?”

  “Quarry in line, muster yer bluster!” Spider Sam jangled his cutlasses, getting ready to prise them free from their scuffed leather scabbards.

  “Setting about. Come on, lads! Hooks at the ready as we prepare to board her!” Portuguese John leapt onto the deck-rail. With knees bent, he swung the first grappling hook. It clanged into the deck of the frigate and held fast.

  “Go on, Mr Spinks!” Hooknose pushed the monkey onto the rope. The tiny creature swarmed lithely up it, soon disappearing onto the frigate.

  “Good grief,” said Captain Thunders. “What’s wrong with that monkey? It’s frothing at the mouth.”

  Hooknose held up the shaving brush. Right at that moment terrible screams came from the other ship and the crew began hurling themselves over the sides. Portuguese John set his cutlass between his teeth, seized the rope Mr Spinks had used and swung out over the waves.

  Thunk! Nathan threw another hook and flew out after John.

  “Do you mind?” said Hooknose, nodding to the wheel.

  “Go on, Hooknose,” said Spider Sam, taking charge. “It’s your turn to have some fun and you’d better go and clean up Mr Spinks.”

  Captain Thunders had a grappling hook in his hands. He’d watched the other pirates throw their hooks and swing across. Pitching his hook high into the air, he held his breath and moments later heard a distant splash.

  “Tarnation!” said the Captain, watching the rope slither through his fingers over the side.

  “Missed,” said Vanessa, bouncing about on the wheel. “Butterfingers.”

  The Captain pulled another grappling hook from the locker and this time he heard it connect with the deck of the frigate.

  “Got it!” he said, pulling tight on the rope. Stepping up onto the side, he leapt and swung. But the Captain was so much taller and heavier than the other pirates he felt himself dropping. Quick as a flash, he reached out and grabbed the side of the frigate. The entire ship rocked as he clung on. Sheer brute force allowed the Captain to fling his body onto the deck.

  “The rest of the crew have locked themselves in, Captain,” said Hooknose pointing. “But the rabid monkey trick got rid of all of those on deck.” Mr Spinks was chattering excitedly on Hooknose’s shoulder.

  “Well, we’ll just have to hoick them out of there, won’t we?” The Captain marched to the closed hatch and stamped on it. “Come out, you bunch of yellow-bellied walrus breaths,” he called. “Or else I’m coming in.” Cupping his hand to his ear the Captain listened for a moment. “No?”

  Down came the Captain’s boot. It crashed through the hatch, splintering the wood in all directions. Down below could be heard the sound of running feet and soon a door flew open in the forecastle. The sailor who emerged took one look at the pirates advancing up the stairs towards him and, with a frightened squeal slammed the door closed again. His running footsteps pattered away. A tiny door flew open – right behind Captain Thunders. He seized the sailor who popped out, holding him aloft by the scruff of his neck. The terrified sailor’s teeth began chattering like castanets.

  “Gottcha!” growled the Captain. “You scrawny bit’o shark bait.” He stuck his face right into the sailor’s. Gnashing his tombstone teeth a few times, the Captain grinned. “Yum, yum,” he said. “I like scaredy-cats.”

  He gave the sailor another shake, making the fellow gibber with fright. “Tell me where your cargo is, scaredy-cat. Give me the gold, the treasure, the gleaming gems.”

  The sailor’s eyes grew wider still and then he shook his head. “N-n-no,” he whimpered. “N-n-no.”

  “NO! What do you mean – no?” Captain Thunders shook him again. “You won’t tell me where your treasure is? Then I’ll teach you how to fly.”

  “Not n-n-n-no!” said the sailor. “N-n-no gold. I’d t-t-tell you if we had s-s-s-s-some gold, s-s-s-sir – but w-we ain’t got n-n-n-no g-g-gold, s-s-sir.” The sailor’s eyes were now as wide as portholes.

  “Then tell me – what is your cargo, you quiverin’ barnacle?” The Captain snarled. “Shining silver?”

  N-n-n-nuns, sir.” The shaking sailor began choking on the cheesy air.

  Captain Thunders promptly dropped him. “Nuns?” he shrieked. “What d’ya mean, nuns?” But the sailor had already crawled away to hide.

  Hooknose seized the ring of the main deck hatch and raised it. There was a slight pause, whereupon twelve nuns popped up like blackbirds in a pie. The nuns began to climb out, their long black dresses tangling and tripping them. As they clambered onto the deck, the pirates were treated to a display of red frilly bloomers.

  “Go away, you horrid pirates!” The tallest of the nuns pulled her white wimple straight. “We are nuns of the Sacred Order of St Brenda and as such are not afeared of you!” Squaring her shoulders, she held up the most enormous wooden cross, jiggling it in the direction of Captain Thunders.

  “I’m a pirate – not a blimmin’ vampire!” he hissed.

  Mr Spinks bounced down from Hooknose’s shoulder. Speeding to
wards the nun at the edge of the group, he jumped up, grabbing at the shining golden cross suspended around her neck. Mr Spinks pulled, but the nun pulled harder sending the monkey flying over her shoulder. Immediately, Mr Spinks came scampering back. He swarmed up the nun’s habit, digging his claws into the soft cloth.

  “Get away, you nasty little creature!” shrieked the nun, shaking her leg until the monkey fell back onto the deck. Up went Mr Spinks again, climbing her habit as fast as he could. And then he screamed.

  “That’ll fix the little pest.” Another nun, held up a knitting needle. “He won’t try that again, Sister Margery.” The second nun returned her needle into its ball of wool, jabbing it in with force. Mr Spinks, a whimpering picture of misery, rubbed the back of his small velveteen breeches.

  “There must be treasure, all ships have treasure!” Captain Thunders stomped across the deck, kicking things out of the way. He lifted up boxes and barrels and flung them all over the place. But, as they burst open, each box seemed to be full of tea, biscuits and knitting wool.

  In his relentless quest for gold, Captain Thunders lifted a crate and discovered the shaking sailor he’d been interrogating.

  “Found you,” cried the Captain. Just as he was about to grab the sailor, a bright yellow parrot with a blue crest flew past his shoulder.

  “A parrot!” cried the Captain. “Catch me that parrot!” The pirates chased the parrot all over the frigate.

  Finally Portuguese John caught the parrot by throwing a sack over its head. He presented it to the Captain. “One parrot is sorry spoils for a ship such as this,” huffed John. Wrenching a grappling hook free, John jumped to the deck rail. “Waste of a flag is this ship,” he shouted. “Come on men – let us leave these penguins to their knitting.”

  John swung back across the waves. The rest of the crew of The Merry Mary followed suit, leaving only a bemused Captain Thunders holding a wriggling sack in his hands.

  “Go on,” said the knitting nun, jabbing her needle at him. “And you… there’s nothing here for you, you big bully!”

  “Ow!” Through the sack the parrot managed to peck the Captain’s knee. Seizing the last rope, the Captain swung back to the deck of his own ship and opened the sack.

  “Not such a bad haul, if I’ve got myself a… OW!”

  After pecking the Captain on the end of his nose, the parrot flew out of the sack and flapped about squawking.