Another Whole Nother Story

by Dr. Cuthbert Soup

“The dog’s right, I’m afraid. Looks like we’ve got company.” Ethan took a look for himself. No question, the sloop was gaining rapidly.

  “Who is it?” asked Chip.

  “It looks to be me old friend the Mailman,” said Jibby. “Must’ve stolen himself a ship.”

  This news seemed to invigorate young Teddy. “I hope we get a letter,” he said.

  “Sí,” said No-Face Roy. “Or a huge package. Filled with bubble gum.”

  “This is not the kind of Mailman with little blue shorts and a big bag full of letters,” said Jibby. “This Mailman would just as soon gouge your eyes out as look at you.”

  “Then I hope we don’t get a package,” said Teddy.

  “Can we outrun them?” asked Mr. Cheeseman.

  “In this glorified piece of driftwood?” said Jibby. “Not likely.”

  “Then what’s our plan?”

  “Don’t really have one right now,” said Jibby.

  “You mean we just wait until they pull alongside us and this Mailman character blasts us out of the water?”

  “Oh, he won’t blast us out of the water,” said Jibby a little too casually, considering the situation.

  “Why not?” asked Penny.

  “Because this is his ship.”

  “His ship?” said Chip. “I thought you said your thieving days were behind you.”

  “Didn’t say I stole his ship. Just borrowed it for a while.”

  Dizzy rushed up, out of breath. “Sir,” he began. “I regret I have some dire news to report.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of the problem,” said Jibby. He walked toward the wheel where Three-Eyed Jake stood, happily whistling a sea shanty, completely unaware of the troubles that lay ahead and astern.

  “Yes, sir,” said Dizzy, struggling to keep up. “But are you aware of the other?”

  “What other?” asked Jibby. A distant rumbling answered the question for him. By now the storm was close enough that Jibby could smell it. He took in a chest full of air. “Amazing, isn’t it? That something so deadly could smell so darned good.”

  “Like bacon,” offered Teddy.

  “Bearing off,” said Jake. He began to turn the ship away from the storm but Jibby stopped him.

  “No,” he said. “Steady up. Continue on.”

  Jake looked at Jibby as if he must be mad. “But Captain,” he said. “What about the curse? Surely you haven’t forgotten the last time we sailed into such a storm.”

  “Of course I haven’t forgotten. But we’ve got no choice as I see it. In fact, the storm might be our only chance of survival. If we can get to it before they overtake us, we might be able to lose them.”

  “We might lose them by sinking to the bottom of the ocean,” said Jake.

  “We might indeed,” said Jibby. “Break out the foresail! Full and by!”

  Penny ran up and handed Jibby the spyglass. “They’re gaining on us.” Jibby didn’t need the spyglass to confirm this little bit of information as fact. There it was, the nimble sloop, with sails full of wind, dead astern and approaching quickly.

  “Battle stations!” shouted Jibby, preparing the crew for the inevitable. “We’ll fight to the last man. Arm yourselves with anything you can find and prepare to be boarded.”

  Jibby spat out a list of orders with rapid-fire delivery, giving each crew member a specific task. When he got to Big and the Cheeseman children, the order was the same for all of them: go belowdecks and wait there until the danger passed.

  “Belowdecks?” said Chip.

  “That’s an order,” snapped Jibby. “All children will go below until I say otherwise. Anyone who disobeys my order will be dealt with harshly. You have my word on that. And I never go back on my word.” Jibby turned to walk away, but Chip grabbed hold of his buttoned sleeve.

  “You said you would welcome a man of my caliber aboard your ship anytime,” said Chip, his voice deeper than it had ever been. “You said man, not child. Now, you’re not going to go back on your word, are you?”

  Jibby opened his mouth but words did not follow. He looked to Mr. Cheeseman, who offered only a shrug. He puffed up his cheeks and let the air out with a slow shake of his head. “I am the captain of this vessel and all orders come from me. But as far as this matter is concerned, I will allow you to answer directly to your company commander.” He said this with a nod toward Mr. Cheeseman.

  Chip smiled. “Well, Dad?”

  “Okay,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “You can stay.”

  “If Chip stays, I stay,” said Penny, hands on her hips.

  “And I as well,” said Big, striking an identical pose.

  “Me too!” shouted Teddy.

  “I can’t see a thing,” said No-Face Roy.

  Mr. Cheeseman secretly wished he hadn’t raised such brave children. In this situation, a band of cowards would have been much easier to deal with. He answered by not answering, then turned to Jibby and asked, “What are our chances? If they catch us.”

  “You mean when they catch us. This is sailing, not rocket science. The facts are plain and simple. They’ve got the faster ship and the Mailman knows his business.”

  “Hold on,” said Penny. “You said this isn’t rocket science. But we’ve got cannons, right?”

  “Yes,” said Jibby.

  “Can they be moved?”

  “With great effort they can.” A wicked snap sent lightning sprinting across the sky ahead. “So tell me, young lady, what exactly do you have in mind?”

  Fightin’ Words

  The simplest advice I can give you on the subject of fighting is don’t. However, sometimes we may find ourselves in a situation that requires us to practice the art of self-defense. Long before I became a remarkably successful purveyor of unsolicited advice, I was bullied on a regular basis all through junior high because I was the smallest kid in my class.

  You’ve heard of the ninety-pound weakling? Well, he used to beat me up on Thursdays. This is what happens when you are a fifty-three-pound weakling. And believe me, it’s not easy to put on weight when you are constantly on the run from bullies.

  Adults rarely have good advice on this subject. My mother offered up this timeless bit of wisdom on the matter: “He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day.”

  I believe this was Mother’s way of saying, “Always fight to the death.”

  My father suggested that I simply tell the bully to pick on someone his own size, which resulted in the bully going to my house and beating up my dad.

  If suggesting to the bully that he pick on someone his own size doesn’t work for you, it may be necessary to get professional help. I’m talking about enrolling in a martial arts class. Personally, I have been practicing martial arts for years. I recently earned a pink belt in karate and am proficient in the tiger position, the cobra position, and the fetal position, which is the best way to protect your internal organs and is a method of self-defense I will always recommend over fighting to the death.

  Chapter 16

  The Mailman’s face jingled in the breeze, the sound growing stronger each moment as the sloop inched closer to the dangerous storm and dangerously close to the Sea Urchin, pulling up fast just off her port side. He could barely contain his excitement. It had taken two weeks to catch her and now she was finally within his grasp. It wasn’t so much the thought of getting his ship back but the opportunity for revenge that was causing him so much happiness.

  While he compiled a mental list of all the horrible ways he could inflict pain upon Jibby and his crew, Scurvy approached in a state of alarm. “Pardon me, sir. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re heading right into a pretty nasty mess.”

  “Worry not, Scurvy old boy. We’ll catch ’er before we get there. Did you ’ear that, Lodbrok? You can’t outrun us! Ha ha!”

  Then the Mailman saw something he couldn’t remember having ever seen before. It was a trunnion—a wheeled wooden base for a cannon—being hoisted through the hold door of the Sea Urchin and pulled onto the main
deck by Sammy and Aristotle. A moment passed before the barrel of a cannon followed and was remounted on the trunnion. From there, Ethan, Chip, Penny, and Big rolled the cannon to the far aft of the ship while Teddy and No-Face Roy hitched a ride.

  “What the devil are they doing?” said Shifty.

  Another trunnion appeared on deck, followed by yet another cannon barrel. When the two parts were reassembled, Juanita and Dizzy rolled it back, parking it next to the first.

  “Fools!” shouted the Mailman as yet another trunnion was hoisted from the gundeck below. “They’re making ’er top ’eavy. She’ll founder for sure. If they sink me ship I’ll kill ’em, I will.”

  “Weren’t you going to kill them anyway?” asked Shifty.

  “Then I’ll double kill ’em!”

  Soon, a full dozen cannons were in place, side by side, spanning the full width of the Sea Urchin’s aft deck.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing!” shouted Jibby.

  “Sir Isaac Newton’s third law of motion,” said Penny. “To every action there is always an equal and opposite reaction. So I’m pretty sure this will work.”

  “It should,” said Mr. Cheeseman, his chest swelling with pride. “But for us to get the kick we need, the cannons need to become part of the ship itself.”

  Under Mr. Cheeseman’s instructions, Dizzy and Aristotle used a large mallet to knock the wooden wheels off the trunnions while Chip followed with a hammer, pounding nails right through the trunnions and into the ship’s deck until they were firmly attached.

  “Let’s move it here,” shouted Jibby. “Time’s a wastin’.” By now the bow of the sloop was even with the Sea Urchin’s stern and a mere thirty feet off her port side. In another five minutes the Mailman and his bloodthirsty crew would be boarding the Sea Urchin, and, just like the Mailman himself, it would not be pretty.

  As each cannon was firmly adhered to the deck, Big and Teddy loaded them with powder. Chip and Penny followed with ammunition, dropping the heavy lead cannon shot into the awaiting gun barrels.

  “Prepare to die!” shouted the Mailman with a malicious laugh as the sloop came alongside the Sea Urchin. Scurvy stood on deck with a sharp butcher knife clenched between his teeth. His hands clutched a thick rope that hung from the mainmast. The Mailman nodded and Scurvy left his feet, the rope carrying him through the air like a human tetherball. Were it not considered unmanly (or un-pirately) to do so, he might very well have shouted “Wheeeee!” as he flew toward the Sea Urchin.

  “Fire!” hollered Jibby. With that one word, the power of a dozen cannons was unleashed all at once, causing a deafening blast that sent the Sea Urchin lurching forward, exactly as Penny and Sir Isaac Newton had promised it would. When Scurvy reached his apex—the point at which he would normally have dropped down onto the deck of the Sea Urchin—he encountered a slight problem. The ship was no longer there. The propulsion of the cannons had taken it twenty feet ahead of where it had been just seconds before. This forced Scurvy to revert to plan B, which was to continue holding on to the rope until it swung back to the sloop, where he would plow, full force, into the hard wooden mast.

  Captain Jibby ordered the cannons reloaded, this time with double powder, as the sloop regained the ground it had lost, again pulling up alongside the Sea Urchin. So close was the sloop that Chip felt he could reach out and touch it. He loaded the last cannon, then covered his ears and waited.

  “Fire!” The roar of the guns coincided with a fierce blast of thunder as once more the cannons helped propel the creaky old ship through the stormy waters. The sun disappeared behind the purple clouds and a cold rain began to coat the deck. Teddy and Big primed the cannons again, while Chip and Penny reloaded.

  “Permission to speak freely, sir,” shouted Shifty over the increasingly gusty winds.

  “What is it?” snarled the Mailman.

  “Well, sir. Do you think it wise to follow them into the storm?”

  “May not be wise, but if you’ve got another idea on ’ow to get me ship back, I’d love to ’ear it.”

  “Well, I was just thinking. I mean, we have this ship now.” Shifty chose his words carefully. “And no offense to the Sea Urchin, but this ship is a somewhat nicer vessel.”

  “This isn’t about the ship. This is about winning. And I always win.”

  A third blast from the cannons and, just like that, the Sea Urchin was in the thick of the storm. “Batten down the hatches,” shouted Jibby. “Reduce the sails. Reef the main and trim the fore!” Jibby’s crew sprang into action while Chip, Penny, and the rest of the newcomers put what they had learned over the past two weeks to the test.

  Young Teddy Roosevelt took his position at the helm next to Jake and held tightly to the wheel as huge waves swept across the deck, one nearly washing Penny over the side. If Teddy hadn’t reached out and grabbed her as she slid by, she would surely have been sent to a watery grave. “You saved my life,” she said, wiping the cold water from her eyes and struggling to regain her breath. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you …?” Teddy hinted. By the smug look on his face, Penny knew what he was after.

  “Thank you, Captain Fabulous,” she said with a roll of her eyes, even though she thought Teddy had rightfully earned his title.

  “You’re welcome,” said Captain Fabulous.

  In good conditions, having twelve iron cannons lined up at the stern of a ship’s top deck could prove dangerous. In this weather, it was suicide. The top-heavy Sea Urchin heeled port, then starboard.

  “Lighten the load!” shouted Jibby. Chip, Ethan, Sammy, and Aristotle began detaching the cannons from the trunnions and hurling them overboard. Other than Jibby’s Swiss Army–knifed hand, Big’s knife and bow, and a few forks from the galley, they were now completely weaponless. Their only hope was to lose the Mailman in the storm. But as good a sailor as Jibby was, the Mailman was better. And despite pleas from his terrified crew, he sailed forward into the squall. Electricity shot across the sky while rain crashed down upon the dueling ships. Jibby continued to shout out orders but little could be heard over the crashing, mashing, and gnashing of the waves and the thunder from above, which rang out every few seconds accompanied by jagged bolts of lightning.

  So far the storm had done nothing to throw the Mailman off their port side. He pulled alongside the Sea Urchin, perilously close for two ships so utterly out of control. He took hold of the rope that hung from the mainmast and stepped back, pulling it taut. He would succeed where Scurvy had failed. He would board the ship, and when the others followed, Captain Jibby and his crew would be sorry they had double-crossed one of the meanest pirates on the seven seas.

  “Here they come,” said Jibby. “Dig in and never say die!”

  Big drew an arrow from her quiver and loaded her bow. She drew the bow back but the rain-washed deck was too slippery and far too unsteady to line up a shot.

  Chip stumbled to the helm where Three-Eyed Jake was working doggedly to maintain course for the center of the storm. “Excuse me,” he said, nudging Jake and Teddy aside and taking the wheel. Jake was confused but there was no time for explanation as the Mailman lifted his feet and took to the air, swinging toward the Sea Urchin, his eyes ablaze with anger, his mind full of malicious intent, his face full of metal.

  Chip knew he had one shot and one shot only. This would be the most important at-bat of his baseball career. He cranked the wheel hard to the right and the boom swung around like a giant baseball bat. The Mailman saw it coming but it was too late. He barely had time to wince before the solid oak beam met him in midair, sending him flying back the way he came, over the deck of the sloop, as his men watched helplessly from below.

  Just before he started his descent to the churning waters, the Mailman learned a very valuable lesson, which is this: never go willingly into an electrical storm if you have a face covered in metal rings. A shard of lightning sent a powerful current skittering from earring to nose ring to elbow ring and back again until his entire body bot
h looked and smelled like barbecued chicken. He plopped into the ocean with the sizzle of a burger hitting a red-hot grill.

  “Nice job, Chip!” shouted Penny.

  Chip smiled, then turned and shouted to Big. “That,” he said, “is a home run.”

  “Now I understand,” said Big, returning the smile.

  Jake took the wheel from Chip, but not before giving him two hearty thumbs up.

  Jibby gave him one thumb and a can opener up. “Good work, everybody,” he said.

  As the Mailman’s crew focused their attention on fishing their half-baked captain from the sea, Jibby and his crew seized the opportunity to escape, sailing deeper into the seething maelstrom. In minutes, the Mailman’s sloop disappeared among the watery mountains and valleys of the violent Atlantic. “We lost him!” said Sammy.

  “Three cheers!” said Dizzy.

  “Hip, hip, hooray!” shouted the group. But the celebration would be cut short, for they were only one hip into the second cheer when a bolt of lightning crackled overhead. It was so close it made their hair stand on end, and it reminded them that while they had successfully rid themselves of one danger, they still had to contend with a savage storm.

  A sudden wave, some thirty feet high, slammed into the Sea Urchin’s hull, nearly capsizing the old girl. Jibby lost his balance and hit the deck hard. When he did, the leather pouch on his belt, the one that carried the White Gold Chalice, broke away. “Nooo!” he shouted as he watched the pouch skate along the deck toward the ship’s railing. Big saw it too. She released her grip on the mainmast and sprinted after it. Just as another colossal wave attacked the ship she took to the air, landing on her belly and sliding across the deck, reaching out for the precious pouch. Chip watched in horror as Big and the satchel tumbled over the railing, out of sight.

  “Man overboard!” shouted Jibby.

  “Big!” cried Chip, struggling to make his way to the other end of the violently pitching ship. Halfway there, a third giant wave knocked him off his feet, forcing him to crawl the rest of the way. He grabbed the railing and pulled himself up. He looked over the edge, desperately scanning the turbulent water for any sign of Big, but he could see nothing.