Another Whole Nother Story

by Dr. Cuthbert Soup

  Once Big’s arm was taken care of, Mr. Cheeseman focused his attention on young Teddy, who had not spoken for hours and now sat on a chair near the bed, rocking back and forth and grinding his teeth.

  Mr. Cheeseman knelt in front of his son. “Are you okay, Teddy?”

  Teddy gave an unconvincing nod.

  “Looks like he’s got the fever,” said Sammy. “If he does, we’re all doomed.”

  Mr. Cheeseman put his hand to Teddy’s forehead. It was not hot but rather quite cool and damp. “Chip,” he said, “the Empathizer.” Chip tossed the device to his father and Mr. Cheeseman suctioned it to his temple, then asked Teddy where it hurt.

  “Doesn’t hurt,” mumbled Teddy. “Just feels … bad. Very bad.”

  Mr. Cheeseman chose Teddy’s forehead as a good starting place. He attached the suction cup, then flipped on the Empathizer. In a moment, his hands began to tremble ever so slightly. “Strange.”

  “What is it?” asked Penny.

  “I remember feeling like this a few years ago when I quit drinking coffee. But this is much worse. I could be wrong but it seems like Teddy might going through some type of withdrawal.”

  “Withdrawal?” said Chip. “But Teddy doesn’t drink coffee.”

  “I know,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. I think the best thing is to get him off to bed. It’s been a long day. For all of us.”

  As the Sea Urchin left the protected waters of Boston Harbor and glided into the open ocean, Mr. Cheeseman looked concerned, Teddy looked pale and drawn, and Rat-Face Roy looked nervous—very, very nervous.

  Chapter 13

  When Professor Boxley walked downstairs to the main room of the Ackerman Inn, he found Gateman in a heated discussion with the owner, Mr. Ackerman, who was busy sweeping up the mess from the previous night’s debauchery—mud, broken glass, a few scattered teeth.

  “You’ve got no indoor plumbing, the food was questionable at best, and the bed was horribly lumpy. I’ve slept on prison beds that were more comfortable. The mattress felt like it was filled with corn husks.”

  “It is filled with corn husks,” said Mr. Ackerman. “What did you expect it to be filled with, sir? Goose down?”

  “That would be a good start. And how about some proper towels? Oh yes, and would it kill you to offer room service and a complimentary continental breakfast?”

  “A continental what?”

  “You know. Muffins, coffee, diced fruits.”

  “Diced fruits?” Mr. Ackerman ceased his sweeping and turned to face Gateman. “Pardon me for saying so, sir, but you are being quite ridiculous.”

  On his way to the door, the professor did not break stride as he grabbed Gateman and dragged him along. “Please excuse my friend,” he said. “He’s not himself today. And thank you for your fine hospitality.”

  “I’m being ridiculous?” said Gateman, refusing to let the matter rest. “This whole town is ridiculous, with its lumpy beds and its ridiculously clean air.”

  “Come on now,” said the professor. “Let’s go.”

  “I hope your fleabag hotel is shut down by the Boston health authorities! And I hope the Red Sox lose!”

  “What was that all about?” asked the professor, once he had successfully hauled Gateman out of the inn and into the ridiculously clean air and the bright sunshine glistening on the bay.

  “Perhaps you find such shoddy accommodations acceptable, but I do not.”

  “That’s it,” the professor said. “I refuse to listen to your incessant complaining. Any more bellyaching out of you and you’re fired.”

  “Fired? You can’t fire me.”

  “I can and I will. Then you’ll have to find your own way home.”

  If only I knew how to work the LVR-ZX, Gateman thought. Then it would be the professor worrying about finding a ride home. “Fine then.” Gateman pouted. “I will try and resist the temptation to complain. I just hope the ship has properly appointed cabins and a nice buffet.”

  “Ship? What ship?”

  “Last night you said we were going to Denmark.”

  “Yes,” said the professor, leading Gateman across the street to an awaiting horse-drawn coach. “But why go by ship when you can go by time machine? It will take Ethan Cheeseman nearly a month to get there by sea. We’ll set the LVR-ZX for three weeks from now, destination Jutland, Denmark. Then all we have to do is watch and wait.”

  “I hate waiting,” said Gateman. “Uh … I mean, except in Denmark, that is. In fact, there’s no place I’d rather wait than in Denmark. Yessiree. Sometimes I go to Denmark just to wait around. I’ll stand there on the corner all day just waiting for …”

  “Okay. I get it,” said the professor.

  The two men climbed into the coach and started out for the woods near Shattuckton, where the LVR-ZX sat waiting. On the way, they passed a small Frenchman on a large white horse. Bon Mot knew that his once-shining reputation as the world’s greatest witch hunter was sure to fade when he returned to Shattuckton empty-handed. His shoulders slumped forward, his eyes cast downward, he made the long, lonely ride toward the reassuring comforts of his beautiful home, where he would find a fire blazing in the fireplace and his dining room table missing.

  Her sails puffed and rounded like a baritone’s chest, the Sea Urchin moved east by northeast through the spiky waters of the Atlantic. Any illusion Mr. Cheeseman and his children may have had that they were guests aboard Jibby’s borrowed ship was quickly dispelled with a sharp call: “All hands on deck! No layabouts allowed!”

  Chip opened his eyes and tried to shake the sleep from his head. His first few moments of consciousness were spent attempting to figure out just exactly where he was, trying to piece together the strange sequence of events that, in the last twenty-four hours, had led him from a small town in the twenty-first century to an even smaller town in the late 1600s … and finally to a hammock hanging between two cannons on the darkened gun deck of a damp, creaky pirate ship bound for the Danish province of Jutland.

  When Jibby once more sounded the call for all hands, Chip swung his legs over the edge of the hammock and dropped to the floor. In the hammock below him, Mr. Cheeseman sat up with a groan. Daylight leaked in through the shuttered gun port doors. “Come on, gang,” he said. “Sounds like we’re needed above.”

  Penny and Big crawled out of their hammocks, Big struggling to do so with her right arm immobilized by Jibby’s homemade sling. Chip extended a hand and helped her to her feet.

  “Thanks,” said Big quietly. She took much pride in her self-reliance and did not like the idea of having to depend on others for the most simple of tasks.

  Penny’s first thought was to find a brush and untangle her long auburn hair, as she did each and every morning. She was both surprised and amused when she remembered it had been hacked off and was last seen firmly stuck to Appalling’s pompous and ignorant head.

  Her new lack of hair reminded her of something else as well. “I saw Mom,” said Penny. “She spoke to me.”

  “I dreamed about her as well,” said Mr. Cheeseman.

  “No,” said Penny. “It wasn’t a dream. It was more like a … like a vision.”

  “Vision?” said Chip, trying not to roll his eyes. Penny was always seeing ghosts or visions. Chip often thought she made these things up in order to get attention.

  “Yes,” said Penny, aware of Chip’s skepticism. “She was floating out over the water like an angel. And she spoke to me.”

  “Okay,” said Chip. “What did she say?”

  “It was weird. She said, ‘Round and round, it never ends, north is south, then north again.’ ”

  “What the heck does that mean?” said Chip. “Sounds like she’s saying we’re going the wrong way.”

  “It does sound like that, doesn’t it?” said Penny. This is the point at which Mr. Cheeseman would have expected Teddy or his pink-eyed sock puppet to pipe in with a wisecrack. But there was absolute silence from Teddy’s bunk.
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  “Teddy?” said Mr. Cheeseman. “Are you awake? Let’s go now. Rise and shine.” Mr. Cheeseman waited but there was no movement from Teddy’s hammock. “Teddy?” He waited again but still there was no response. Mr. Cheeseman rushed to Teddy’s hammock and threw back the covers. Teddy was gone. Mr. Cheeseman called out for him once more, thinking he might be hiding somewhere among the cannons. When he received no answer he practically flew up the stairs to the ship’s deck, where he saw Sammy, Dizzy, Aristotle, and Juanita working the rigging and adjusting the sails as Jibby shouted out commands from the front of the ship. There he also found his youngest child at the wheel, helping Three-Eyed Jake steer.

  “Hey Dad, look,” Teddy said when he saw his father approaching. “Captain Fabulous is driving the ship.”

  Mr. Cheeseman was relieved not only to find Teddy but to find him in such a fine state of repair. His color had returned and no longer was he rocking, mumbling incoherently, or grinding his teeth. He was smiling and happily whistling a sea shanty that Three-Eyed Jake had taught him while Mr. Cheeseman had been sleeping below.

  “I found Teddy,” said Mr. Cheeseman as the others climbed on deck, shielding their eyes against the low-lying sun. “You had me worried there for a moment.”

  “Why? I’m fine,” Teddy insisted.

  “He’s fine,” Three-Eyed Jake agreed, scruffing up his helper’s hair as people seemed to enjoy doing to those with spiky hair like Teddy’s. “It’s the rest of you I’d be worried about. Sleeping till the morn’s half gone. You’d best report to the captain.” Three-Eyed Jake thrust his one good eye in the direction of the ship’s bow, where Jibby stood taking in as much sea air as his lungs could hold.

  “Right,” said Mr. Cheeseman, acutely aware that he was no longer in charge. He reported to Captain Jibby and the others joined Teddy and Jake near the helm. “Good morning, Jake,” said Penny.

  “ ’Tis indeed,” said Jake. “Finer conditions for sailin’ I’ve rarely seen.”

  “You’re looking a lot better today, Teddy,” said Chip.

  “I feel a lot better,” said Teddy, his jaw moving rhythmically up and down.

  Penny exchanged a look with Chip. “Teddy?” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “Where’d you get the gum?”

  Teddy’s face froze and turned suddenly red. His forehead became instantly shiny with perspiration. “Hmm?” He turned away as if studying the billowy clouds resting on the horizon.

  “You’re chewing gum. Where’d you get the gum?”

  Teddy’s eyes danced about, contemplating an answer. “Uh … found it?”

  “Found it?” said Chip. “Is that true, Rat-Face Roy?”

  “Sí,” said Rat-Face Roy, keeping his back to his inquisitors.

  “You really should look at people when you’re talking to them, Roy,” said Penny.

  “Sí,” said Rat-Face Roy once again. Penny bit her cheeks. It was all she and Chip could do to keep from laughing. Even Big smiled as they hadn’t seen her do since Penny shot the arrow into the outhouse roof.

  Suddenly, Penny turned and pointed wildly off to the starboard side. “Hey, look. A mermaid!” When Teddy turned to get his first ever glimpse of a half woman, half fish, Penny stepped forward and took hold of her brother’s left arm, holding it up for all to see. Chip and Big feigned shock, gasping at the sight of a sock puppet with no face. “Teddy,” said Penny with mock astonishment. Teddy hung his head in shame. “You ate Rat-Face Roy’s face?”

  Tears streamed down Teddy’s cheeks. “I couldn’t help it,” he blubbered. “I need my gum. I just can’t think without it.” Teddy’s crying intensified until it interfered with his breathing and soon he was speaking in staccato bursts. “Besides, I … didn’t eat his … face. I’m just … chewing on it for a while until we … get back home and I can get some more … gum.”

  Chip and Penny suddenly felt ashamed of themselves. It had been their intention to have a little fun at their brother’s expense, not to make him cry. Chip placed his hand on the back of Teddy’s neck and gave him an affectionate squeeze. “It’s okay,” said Chip. “You did what you had to do. In the meantime, Rat-Face Roy will just have to go by a different name.”

  “May I suggest No-Face Roy?” said Big.

  “Sounds good to me,” said Chip. “What do you think, Roy?”

  “Who said that?” said No-Face Roy.

  Just then, a long shadow fell over them all. The source of the sudden shade was Captain Jibby, eclipsing the sun with his six-foot-six frame. Standing next to him was Mr. Cheeseman.

  “Fall in!” barked the captain.

  Chip and the others weren’t sure what to do. They looked at one another and shuffled their feet. “Fall in means stand at attention,” whispered Three-Eyed Jake. “Single file.”

  Chip, Penny, Teddy, Pinky, and No-Face Roy lined up next to Mr. Cheeseman and stood at something that would be called attention in only the least disciplined of navies. “All of you,” said Jibby, with a stern eye toward Big.

  “I don’t take orders,” said Big. “From anyone.” Digs took up position at her feet and gave a look that seemed to make the same declaration.

  “When you’re aboard my ship, you do,” said Jibby. “I know we’re all friends here and I’d like to keep it that way. But out on the open sea, allegiance to your captain is essential for survival, and I require nothing less than complete obedience. We have just enough hands to get this ship safely to Denmark. And if you landlubbers are to learn the ways of the sea, you’ll have to pipe down and listen. And, I’m afraid, you’ll have to take orders.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t take orders,” said Big once more.

  “Then you’ll have a long swim back to Boston,” said Jibby. His eyes locked with Big’s in a battle of wills. “Won’t be easy with one arm, I imagine.”

  Chip cleared his throat. “Permission to speak with Big,” he said. “Uh … privately.”

  “Permission granted,” said Jibby with a sideways nod.

  Chip pulled Big aside, taking her by her uninjured arm. “What are you doing?” he said gently.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You do know what I mean. Listen, it’s like Jibby said. He needs every one of us to cooperate if we’re to get to Denmark safely. We all need to pull together here for the good of the team.” Chip realized he was quoting his old Police Pals baseball coach, but it seemed to fit the situation, so he saw no reason to stop. “We’ve all got to give a hundred and ten percent.”

  “That’s mathematically impossible,” said Big, whose birth had preceded the advent of sports clichés by several hundred years.

  “I know,” said Chip. “But making it across the Atlantic might be impossible too if we all don’t pitch in. Just try not to think of it as taking orders. Think of them more as suggestions.” Big’s expression was unreadable and Chip wondered if he was getting through to her. “Do it for me.”

  Big smiled. “Is that an order or a suggestion?”

  “It’s a request,” said Chip. The faint smile that accompanied Big’s sigh let Chip know that his little pep talk had been effective. He and Big joined the others at attention and Jibby gave Chip a wink in appreciation of his diplomatic skills.

  “All right then,” he began as he paced back and forth, his arms tucked behind him. “It takes years to learn all there is to know about sailing a ship like this. But you scalawags are going to learn it all in just a few hours, so pay attention because our very lives may depend upon it. Out here on the open seas, you never know when you’re gonna run into bad weather.” Jibby narrowed his eyes and gazed out at the distant skyline. “Or, worse yet, bad people.”

  Chapter 14

  Unlike Ethan Cheeseman’s LVR, the newer version was equipped with a homing device, so the professor and his assistant knew exactly where to find it.

  One full day since it had first arced across the sky and set down in the forest of New England, the LVR-ZX lay in the same spot in which Ga
teman and the professor had left it, and in the same condition other than the fact that it had attracted a few leaves and branches blown by the wind and several thousand very busy red ants. Professor Boxley’s precise scientific calculations had enabled him to make certain the LVR-ZX would land on flat, solid ground in a remote location while avoiding things like the ocean, steep hillsides, or the interior of a volcano. No amount of calculating, however, could ensure that it would not land on a rather large anthill.

  “It’s covered with ants,” said Gateman, bitterly watching the industrious bugs crawling about with no obvious purpose in mind other than to carry him to a new level of irritation.

  “I can see that,” said Professor Boxley. “Well, don’t just stand there, get rid of them.”

  “Me? Why should I have to get rid of them?”

  “Because you’re my assistant. If you can’t be counted upon to perform simple tasks, like bringing me my coffee or getting rid of swarms of ants, then what good are you?”

  Seething, Gateman reached beneath his jacket and removed his gun.

  “Now, now,” said Professor Boxley. “There’s no need to threaten me with that.”

  “You? It’s not for you. It’s for them.” Gateman waggled the gun in the direction of the ants.

  “You’re going to shoot the ants? How many bullets do you have in that gun?”

  Gateman thought about this for a moment. He looked at the gun, then at the thousands of scrambling insects and did some quick math in his head. “Yes, I see. Well maybe if I just shoot one of them. You know, as an example to the others.”

  “You couldn’t hit a bear, remember? What makes you think you could shoot an ant?”

  “I can get much closer to an ant,” said Gateman, moving the gun in close to one of the ants climbing up the side of the LVR-ZX.

  “Are you crazy?” shrieked Acorn Boxley. “Get that gun away from my machine. You’ll put a hole in it and we’ll be stuck here forever.”

  Too busy arguing about whether a gun was a suitable device for getting rid of bothersome ants, the two men failed to notice that a few hundred of the tiny creatures were now crawling up their stocking-covered legs. Of course, as stealthy as ants may be, eventually someone is going to notice a small army of insects climbing up his leg. The sensation of being bitten on the legs, right through his white stockings, was sent to Professor Boxley’s brain, which sent the following message to his mouth: “Ahhhhhhhh!”