“Oh, I don’t know . . .”
“Wait, hear me out. I was thinking what was lacking in many schools was a sense of adventure in the classroom, a sense that learning can be an exciting thing. I, for one, dreaded going to my school. We had a very strict teacher who left shortly after I went to sea as a cabin boy. Her name was . . . Mrs. Swinsky, I believe. Quite a nasty woman. I pity the poor students who had to face her next. But I digress. Being a sailor and liking nothing so well as I do the sea, I thought that what you could do is maybe take the Ironic Gentleman and convert it into a floating school. A school on a ship. So that if you were studying Zimbabwe, say, instead of reading about it in a book, you could visit it. Of course,” he added, “it’s just an idea.”
Alex looked at Mr. Underwood. It wasn’t just an idea, it was a marvelous idea. With the treasure they could fix up the ship so it was suited for students, turn the brig into sleeping quarters, let’s say. And they would never want for supplies, having an endless source of finances. She only wondered if Mr. Underwood saw it that way, too.
“Captain Magnanimous, you are just about the most . . .” he searched for the word, “. . . the most generous person I’ve ever met. Giving us this treasure and this ship.”
“To the victor go the spoils,” said Magnanimous modestly.
Mr. Underwood looked at Alex, who was fidgeting nervously in her seat.
“Let’s do it,” he said. “Let’s do it!”
And so it was that in a few short hours, both HMS Valiant and the Ironic Gentleman set sail for Port Cullis, the latter helmed by a beaming De Wit, using his one good hand. Several other crew members had joined them for the trip as well, including Shakespeare and O’Connell, who approached Alex with big smiles.
“We wanted to give you something,” said O’Connell.
“Yes, please, take him off our hands,” replied Shakespeare.
And he held out a bandaged, but rather feisty, Giggles.
“Giggles!” cried Alex, grabbing him and holding him tight. “You’re all right!”
“Of course he’s all right!” replied Shakespeare with a grimace. “It’s the rest of us you should be worried about,” and he held up his hands, which, too, were bandaged. Giggles raised his usual eyebrow at him, and then snuggled into Alex’s shoulder happily.
“That’s not all, though,” said O’Connell, with a laugh at Shakespeare, and he presented Alex and Mr. Underwood with their knapsack and bicycle, respectively.
“You really did bring my bike,” said Mr. Underwood in astonishment.
“Yes, I did,” replied Alex proudly, giving the seat a pat. She opened her bag to find its contents just as she had left them, even the toothbrush and toothpaste and floss Heather had given her. Reaching down to the bottom, she produced her camera. “I can’t wait to develop these,” she said, “I doubt anyone has pictures quite like them anywhere.”
Mr. Underwood laughed. “I’m sure they will be truly unique,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But now, Alex, I feel a little left out. Everyone else seems to know of your great adventure but me. We have a fair bit of time before we reach Port Cullis. Do you think you could possibly indulge me with one of your amazing stories?”
Alex nodded enthusiastically, and they found a comfortable seat in the bow of the ship. “Well,” she said, Giggles purring on her lap, “it begins like this.” And with a private grin, as if she knew the punch line to a great joke, she launched into her story. There was no need for hyperbole or exaggeration; it was more than exciting in and of itself.
So that, I am sad to say, is the end, my friend, but let’s not finish just yet. Let us take a last moment to enjoy the view of the two ships sailing away over calm seas, the blue and gold of the frigate, HMS Valiant, with the orange of the water wings, and the red and black of the brig infamously known as, or I suppose now it will simply be famously known as, the Ironic Gentleman. Let’s watch as they sail farther and farther away toward the horizon. There they go, my friend, right into the sunset. And even though it happens to be overcast at the moment, let’s pretend it isn’t, because it’s just that much nicer.
THE “THE END”
In which there is no more to tell.
THE ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In which the author can only hope to come close to expressing her gratitude to those who helped her along the way.
Thank you to my brilliant agent, Julia Churchill, at the Darley Anderson Literary Agency, and her friendly and immensely skillful team. Huge gratitude to my editors on both sides of the pond: the elegant Elv Moody as well as the rest of the bookmakers from Scholastic UK, and the dashing Rob Weisbach with the other learned literati at Weinstein Books. All of you have shown constant faith in me and in my book. You've changed my life.
Thanks to my family and friends: My grandparents, who read the original manuscript and avidly followed every development. My aunts, uncles, and cousins, who adopted Alex as their own even before I had a publishing contract. My friends, those who inspired these pages, or who read these pages, or helped me improve these pages. If everyone had such loving and supportive people in their life, the world would be a ridiculously happy place.
To my “focus group,” Heather and Wendy (and Harry) Tamminen: You were there just when I needed some serious help.
To the city of Bath, UK: You've inspired writers over the centuries; thank you for taking the time to inspire me as well.
And to my parents, Cynthia and Flemming Kress: You've done so much, both for me and for Alex, that words of gratitude are insufficient. None of this would have been possible without you. Heck, I would not have been possible without you. Thank you for everything. Love you lots.
A.K.
Alex and the Ironic Gentleman Page 25