‘Song?’ asked Black Jack. ‘What song be this?’
And young Jack started to sing:
’Twas on the good ship Venus,
My lads, you should have seen us,
The figurehead
Was lying in bed
Sucking a dead man's—
‘I'm sure the captain does not want to hear that,’ said Darwin.
‘Don't interrupt me when I'm singing,’ said Jack. ‘I'm a prince, after all.’
The pirates took another step back, and as they ‘oooohed’ and ‘arrrrhed’ again, Darwin let out a groan.
Jack raised a puzzled expression.
Darwin whispered, ‘You should not have mentioned that.’
‘A prince!’ roared Captain Black Jack. ‘A prince, do we have on board?’
‘Quite right,’ said Jack, doing princely posings, ‘and you should show me some respect.’
‘Over the side with him!’ shouted a pirate.
‘Fetch the plank,’ cried another.
Black Jack snatched young Jack up by his regal collar. ‘We don't hold with princes,’ he told him. ‘We sends princes to Davy Jones.’
‘Or the aerial equivalent thereof,’ remarked a pirate with literary pretensions. Because there is always one. Because it is a tradition* amongst pirates to embrace a broad spectrum of types, so long as they all adhere to the accent.
‘Aaaar-harrr,’ added the pirate with literary pretensions.
‘The plank! The plank!’ shouted the pirates.
‘No, no,’ cried Jack, now a-feared.
But pirate hands and pirate hooks were upon him and he was lifted into the air and bounced around and about.
‘Please don't throw him off the ship,’ pleaded Darwin.
‘You're my monkey now,’ bawled Black Jack MacJackblack, ‘so shut up your noise if you knows what's good for you.’
Darwin watched in horror as pirates jostled Jack about and a plank was pushed out over the side of the ship.
‘Over you go, bonny prince!’ Pirates laughed and waggled weapons as Jack was nudged along the fearful plank.
Jack peeped down to the sky beneath, where the harpooned shark circled below.
‘No,’ wailed Jack, ‘please don't. I want my mum.’
‘Please don't,’ shouted Darwin.
The pirates just chortled and prodded.
‘And over he goes,’ yelled the captain.
And over—
But then was heard one rather magical word.
‘Treasure!’ shouted Darwin. At the top of his voice.
The pirates paused, because this word was magic.
‘Treasure,’ Darwin said once more, when he had all their attention.
‘What of this?’ demanded the captain. ‘What do you say of treasure?’
‘Great treasure,’ said Darwin. ‘Very great treasure. In the prince's castle. If you take us safely to it, all of it can be yours.’
‘What of this?’ The captain glared at Jack.
‘Well, I am a prince,’ said Jack. ‘But it's my treasure.’
‘Grrrrrr!’ went Black Jack MacJackblack.
‘He is a rather silly young prince,’ said Darwin. ‘But there is a very great deal of treasure, and if you take us safely to the castle, all of it will be yours.’
The pirates took to mumbling. Some of them mumbled, ‘Rhubarb-rhubarb,’ for they were extras who did not have speaking parts.
‘Quiet, ye swabs,’ called the captain. ‘I be a-thinking, I be.’
‘Many fine clothes, too,’ added Darwin. ‘You might wish to extend your wardrobe. Perhaps add an extra dash of colour here and—’
‘Shut it!’ cried the captain. ‘Or I'll hollow you out and—’
‘Not a word more,’ said Darwin.
The captain now did a bit of marching up and down the deck. He did it with a certain flair, for he had a wooden leg. ‘Where be this castle?’ he said of a sudden, turning on Darwin the monkey.
‘It is the castle of Skia the Sky Whale.’
‘Oooh-hoo,’ ‘Arr-harr’ and ‘Arrr,’ went the pirates generally.
‘But where be it?’ the captain enquired.
‘How would I know?’ said Darwin. ‘I am only a silly monkey. You are the mighty pirate chief, who holds the command and respect of his crew through his authority and knowledge of such matters.’
The pirate crew went ‘ooooh’ and ‘aaar’ and their collective gaze swung from Darwin to the master of the ship.
‘Aaar,’ said Captain MacJackblack.
‘A pirate chief,’ continued Darwin, returning all eyes to himself, ‘has boundless knowledge of where treasure might be found. It is instinctive, or so I have been informed.’
The gaze of all returned to the captain.
‘Aaar,’ said that fellow once more.
A grumbling mumbling came from the pirates. Someone said, ‘Rhubarb,’ quite loudly.
‘Right, me hearties,’ called the captain. ‘We be sailing for treasure. Weigh the anchor, trim the sails and tots of rum all round.’
The pirates cheered and waggled their weapons.
Jack asked politely, ‘Can I come down from this plank?’
* Or an old charter, or something. (R. R.)
31
he sails of the good ship Venus gathered wind.
Darwin sat on the captain's deck, drinking the captain's rum. Young Jack made his grumpy face and idled about with a scallop.
‘It is my treasure, Darwin,’ he said for the umpteenth time.
‘You might perhaps thank me for saving your life,’ said Darwin.
‘Thank you,’ said Jack. ‘And a pirate stole my sword. And another one touched me inappropriately.’
Darwin raised his eyebrows to that. ‘All will be well,’ said he.
‘All will be well!’ And Jack rolled his eyes. ‘I don't believe that captain knows where he's going.’
‘Nor do I,’ said Darwin, tasting further rum. ‘But at least we are safe up here for now and going somewhere or other.’
‘I should be the captain of this ship,’ said Jack. ‘Prince outranks captain. Everybody knows that.’
‘I would have thought,’ said Darwin, quietly, ‘that everyone would know that pirates have no love for princes. Everyone but you, apparently.’
Jack made a face much grumpier and with that folded his arms.
Darwin arose, to find himself unsteady. ‘It is very fine rum,’ he said. ‘And this is certainly an exciting adventure.’
And then it occurred to Darwin that he did have that appointment with Mr Bell at nine o'clock the following morning. And now he did not even know over which farflung part of the globe the ship was flying. Darwin stumbled to the rail and took a peep. Cloudy lands lay scattered below, and beneath them rolled the ocean.
‘Oh, well,’ said Darwin, returning to the captain's rum.
Jack said underneath his breath, ‘They are not having my treasure.’
The captain appeared on the captain's deck and bid them a hearty hello. He slapped young Jack upon the back and offered a wink to Darwin.
‘We're making good headway,’ the captain said, and he tugged from a frock-coat pocket a shiny brass compass and took to perusing its face.
‘Shall we soon arrive at the treasure-filled castle?’ asked Darwin.
The captain glanced askew at the ape. ‘Just mind your tongue,’ quoth he.
‘It must be nearly time for lunch,’ said young Jack, grinning up at the captain. ‘I would like roast leg of lamb and potatoes, but no greens.’
‘Pirates don't eat greens,’ the captain said. ‘And you mind your manners or you'll find yourself on the menu.’
‘You were to convey us in safety,’ said Darwin.
‘I recall no written contract to that effect,’ said the pirate chief.
‘I would like Treacle Sponge Bastard for pudding,’ said Jack.
The captain shook his head, then clipped Jack round the ear.
‘Ouch,’ said Jack.<
br />
And on the good ship sailed.
It was certainly magical up there in the clouds, with wonderful cloud islands and great cloudy dolphins and small cloudy fish and this thing and that and the other.
Darwin leaned upon the ship's rail and grinned rather foolishly. He had drunk a tad too much rum, for sure, and he did feel stupidly happy.
‘Look at it all,’ he called to young Jack. ‘Isn't it just so—’
‘Cool?’ said Jack, who was spitting again, this time onto seagulls. ‘Yes, it is very cool, and I would be having a good time myself if I was not being held to ransom by pirates and did not have a kiwi's egg inside my belly.’
Darwin gave himself a scratch. ‘I have fleas,’ he said.
‘And you seem proud of them,’ said Jack. ‘I wonder if I can live in the castle of Skia.’
‘How does a whale have a castle, I wonder?’ said Darwin.
‘Ah,’ said Jack. ‘Well, I know that, cos I've seen them. The big sky whales are very big and carry great big castles on their backs.’
‘Why?’ asked Darwin, and, ‘How?’
‘Who cares why or how?’ said Jack. ‘They just do.’
‘And what is so special, I wonder, about this Skia?’
‘I expect it's the Skia in the fairy tale,’ said Jack.
Darwin peered down the rum bottle's neck and found the rum bottle empty. ‘I have been to Fairyland,’ he said. ‘I did not take to it very much.’
‘So you know the story of Skia?’
‘No, I don't,’ said Darwin. ‘Tell me it now, if you please.’
‘I am too big a boy for fairy tales, but I'll tell you it all the same.’ Jack sat himself down with his back to a mast and so began the tale.
‘Once upon a time,’ said Jack, ‘there lived a whale called Skia. She swam about in the ocean deep with her mummy and her daddy and her big and handsome brother named Jack.’
Darwin sighed softly, but young Jack continued undaunted.
‘It was a time so very long ago, a time when Man was different from how he is today. Man then, they say, was smaller and hairy and very much like a monkey. The race of Man lived then upon a large and beautiful island, which as time has passed and memory faded has gone by many names. Eden, some say it was called.’
Darwin pricked up his ears to this. ‘Who told you that?’ he asked.
‘My daddy,’ said Jack. ‘For he was a whaler and knew many tales about whales.’
‘Go on.’
‘The hairy men lived happily in Eden. They swung about in the trees, dined upon bananas and used what words they had to engage in lengthy philosophical discussions about the nature of being.’
‘You are making this up,’ said Darwin.
‘I couldn't make that up,’ said Jack. ‘So, the hairy monkey-men were happy enough. They had all that they wanted and needed. They did not require fire and had no wish to invent the wheel. Not that they lacked the intellectual prowess to do so, rather they adhered to an altruistic empiricism, that knowledge derives from experience and to experience the infinite one must eschew worldly goods.’
Darwin stared slack-jawed at Jack. ‘Your daddy told you that?’
‘Do you want to hear the story or not?’
‘I do,’ said Darwin. ‘I do.’
‘Thus,’ continued Jack, ‘these monkey-men, these proto-humans, if you will, were of an order close to God, for their thoughts were pure and they caused no harm to the world in which they lived.’
Darwin nodded. ‘I am glad for that.’
‘But,’ said Jack, ‘though this tribe lived in peace and flourished, also did it grow in numbers, mightily. For monkeys are prolific and prodigious in their mating habits and after a span of many centuries, the Garden of Eden was overrun with monkeys. But they were goodly God-fearing monkeys and they all got by somehow. God looked down upon his favoured people, but God being God, he chose to not get involved. It was then that the chickens—’
‘The chickens?’ said Darwin. ‘What is all this about chickens?’
‘Many believe,’ said Jack, ‘that chickens were the first folk on Earth and that Man evolved from the chicken.’
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ said Darwin. ‘Man evolved from the noble ape and the noble ape from me.’
‘The noble ape from—What did you say?’
‘Nothing,’ said Darwin. ‘Please carry on with the story.’
‘The chickens lived on another island, and theirs was called Atlantis.’
Darwin sighed and said, ‘I don't care for chickens.’
‘The chickens were not like the monkeys,’ Jack said. ‘The chickens were driven by more material and less spiritual things and invented the wheel. And they invented binoculars and cricket, which originally was called chicket, and they built pyramids and were indeed a most industrious race.’
‘But ungodly,’ said Darwin. ‘Ungodly.’
‘Very ungodly,’ said Jack. ‘And very bothersome, too. They built great sailing ships and circumnavigated the globe. Chickens turn up everywhere in history, which is probably why ultimately they came to be such a popular dish.’
‘That does not follow at all,’ said Darwin. ‘Please get on with the story.’
‘Oh, look,’ said Jack, and he pointed. ‘That there is a sky kraken.’
Darwin looked on as the impressive creature, part-octopus, part-bat or bird, it appeared, moved by with languid swimming motions of its lengthy tentacles.
‘Do carry on with the story,’ said Darwin.
Jack carried on with the story.
‘The chickens of Mammon made war on the monkeys of God. And the leader of the monkeys, Hanuman as that silly kiwi mentioned, led a brave fight against those filthy fowl. But the chickens were big and the monkeys were small and the chickens had developed many forms of martial technology – prang cannons and poison muskets, ultrasonic catapults and laser-guided missiles. They even had their own website.’
‘I am going to get more rum,’ said Darwin. ‘You can finish the story without me.’
‘No, all right,’ said Jack. ‘I made up the last bit. But they did have weapons and armour and suchlike and they were more than a match for the monkeys. And they drove those monkeys off their paradise island.’
‘Where does the sky whale come into this tale?’ asked Darwin.
‘It comes in now,’ said Jack. ‘Skia was bobbing about in the sea off the island and she saw the whole thing, and when the chickens drove the monkeys into the sea, she rescued them. All the monkeys climbed onto her back and they all lived happily ever after.’
‘I think you must have left a bit out,’ said Darwin, ‘such as how this whale came up into the sky.’
‘Oh,’ said Jack. ‘Well, all right. This was the time when the Earth was young and still becoming itself. The chickens could have been the creatures to rule the world, but it was not to be. There are certain things which are known as Eternal Verities, you know.’
‘Like how a swan can break a man's arm,’ said Darwin.
‘Exactly. And how Martians cannot survive here due to Earthly bacteria.’
‘And how time-travel plot holes are best stepped neatly across,’ said Darwin.
Young Jack shrugged. ‘Something like that, I suppose. Well, one thing everyone knows, and I do mean everyone, is that Atlantis was an island that lay before the great flood in an area we now call the Atlantic Ocean.* And Atlantis sank. Everyone knows that. So the evil chickens didn't stay long on the monkey's island, because it was all covered in monkey poo and not really a nice place to live any more. So they returned to Atlantis and the whole horrid lot of them went down into the sea when that continent sank.’
‘Bravo,’ said Darwin. ‘And good riddance to those chickens.’
‘Bravo indeed,’ said Jack. ‘If a bit of a shame about those monkeys.’
‘But my monkeys – those monkeys, I mean – escaped on the back of Skia.’
‘Yes, but as I told you, according to the story all this happened when the
world was very very young and in all kinds of turmoil, and a big storm lashed and Skia got lost with all those monkeys clinging to her back.’
‘I do not think I am going to like the next part of the story.’
‘It does have a happy ending,’ said Jack. ‘Well, sort of.’
Darwin had tired of saying, ‘Go on,’ so instead he said, ‘Please continue.’
‘The monkeys clung on to Skia's back and Skia swam on and on, but she never ever reached land again and eventually she and all the monkeys died.’
‘That is not a happy ending,’ said Darwin. ‘In fact, that is no ending at all, because Skia supposedly is a sky whale who still swims about up here.’
‘Of course she is,’ said Jack. ‘She's up here, and all those monkeys, too.’
‘Well, they can't be up here if they're dead,’ said Darwin.
‘Well, I can't imagine how they'd get here otherwise.’
‘And now you are not making any sense at all,’ said Darwin. ‘What are you saying? That the only way you can get up here is by dying? Like going to Heaven? That this is Heaven – is that what you are saying?’
‘That is exactly what I'm saying,’ said Jack. ‘Now don't pretend you don't know.’
‘Don't know?’ said Darwin, now becoming most confused indeed.
‘Don't know you're dead,’ said Jack to Darwin. ‘How else did you think we got here?’
‘What?’ went Darwin. ‘What?’
‘Well, you didn't think this was real life, did you?’ asked Jack, and he laughed. ‘Islands in the sky made out of clouds? This is the small boy's Heaven, Darwin. Where small dead boys have adventures. Where poor dead boys become princes and meet pirates and go on magical quests. I jumped off the spire of the church,’ said Jack. ‘You saw my ghost in a cloudy boat, jumped into it and you fell, too. I'm sorry.’
* God bless Donovan, say I. (R. R.)
32
‘o no no!’ cried Darwin, all in a lather.
‘What is all this no-ing?’ asked the captain, clumping by.
‘Jack just told me an awful tale. He says that we are dead.’
‘Dead's not so bad,’ said the captain. ‘Once you get over the shock. I was an engineer, me. Worked on the Great Exhibition. Some swab dropped a hammer on me head. I had always dreamed of being a pirate, when I was a boy.’
The Chickens of Atlantis and Other Foul and Filthy Fiends Page 19