Another Whole Nother Story

by Dr. Cuthbert Soup

  He heard a grunt and looked to his left. There she was, dangling above the water, clinging tenuously to the spindles of the railing. Clamped between her teeth was the leather pouch. “Hold on,” Chip commanded. He shinnied along the railing, then leaned over as far as he could, reaching for Big. He grabbed one wrist and then the other and had just begun to pull when another vicious wave washed across the deck. Chip felt himself going over the railing, helpless to stop his inevitable plunge. It seemed that he and Big would drown together. Then, just like that, his forward motion stopped and his jeans tightened around his waist.

  “Pull her in, lad!” yelled Captain Jibby, the bottle opener of his Swiss Army hand hooked on Chip’s back pocket, his hand gripping the line to the foresail. With all his strength Chip pulled Big up and over the railing and they tumbled to the deck in a heap.

  “What were you thinking?” Chip yelled, the stress of the situation coming out in the form of anger. “You could have been killed. We both could have been killed.”

  Big removed the satchel from her mouth. “And you could have been cursed forever,” she shot back. She turned and handed the pouch to Jibby. “I believe you dropped this.”

  Jibby smiled and took the pouch. “I did indeed.”

  “We’re takin’ on water!” shouted Dizzy from below.

  “Man the bilge pump!” yelled Jibby. He turned to Chip and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I need a volunteer. Someone who can get the job done. And I’ve chosen you.”

  Big watched as Chip trudged off toward the companionway without a word.

  It was not long before Chip began to regret his demand to be treated as an adult. The bilge pump was located, as the name might imply, in the ship’s bilge, the very bottom of the hull. Here fresh air was in short supply and, as Dizzy and Chip worked fervently to rid the ship of unwanted water, Chip’s stomach began to churn like the sea outside and his face turned a similar color of green. It seemed like forever, though it was probably just over an hour before Dizzy finally noticed.

  “You all right there, lad?” he asked. Chip tried to nod yes but instead answered by leaning over and losing his lunch. Actually, he didn’t lose it, technically. He knew exactly where it was: right at his feet.

  Now, when someone throws up, there is something peculiar in human nature that causes people to think they can make that person feel better by telling them about times they threw up.

  “Don’t worry, son,” said Dizzy. “First time I worked the pump I got sick myself. I’d just eaten a whole plate of greasy fried oysters and a half-dozen boiled eggs and I wasn’t feeling too good to begin with. So, anyway …”

  Dizzy’s vividly detailed account did not make Chip feel better at all. In fact, it seemed to have quite the opposite effect and soon everything went black.

  When Chip regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was how strangely quiet it was. There was no thunder and there were no waves splashing over the side of the ship. Nor was there any yelling or running about. All he could hear was the sound of the water lapping gently at the hull and the soft susurrus of the sails. All he could see was a pretty girl in a blue baseball cap leaning over him.

  “You’re alive,” said Big with a smile that carried with it much information. It suggested to Chip that the storm was over and that all was well once again.

  “I’m sorry, Big,” he said. “I’m sorry I got angry with you. I was just scared, that’s all.”

  “I know,” said Big.

  “We sure showed the Mailman and his crew a thing or two, didn’t we?”

  “We sure did.”

  Chip pushed himself up to his elbows and surveyed the deck to find it littered with the tired bodies of his family members and Jibby’s crew, sprawled out in various degrees of exhaustion.

  Two of those bodies, Sammy and Mr. Cheeseman, came to life and dragged themselves over to check on Chip’s condition. “Are you okay, Chip?” his father asked.

  “Just a little queasy. What happened?”

  “You got sick working the bilge pump.”

  “Nothing to be ashamed of,” said Sammy. “The first time I worked it I got sick myself. Now picture this. I’d just eaten an entire rack of lamb …”

  Chapter 17

  In the hands of Jibby’s expert crew, the sails were in constant harmony with the ever-changing winds of the high seas. The Sea Urchin cut through the water at top speed, which, I should point out, was not nearly fast enough for those on board.

  As each day passed, the ship’s inhabitants grew increasingly restless, weary, and hungry for dry land, a change of clothes, and a good meal. After three and a half weeks at sea even a gourmet cook like Juanita had a hard time putting together something edible from the ship’s dwindling supplies. As Penny sat in the galley poking at the porridge with her spoon, she was sure she knew why sailors kissed the ground when they finally went ashore. The ground was probably much tastier than anything they had eaten in a very long time.

  “I can’t wait to eat real food again,” she said.

  “When we get to Denmark, can we get pizza?” asked Teddy, nudging his porridge around the edge of his bowl. He plucked the bubble gum from his forehead and popped it back into his mouth, having all but given up on the meal.

  “I wouldn’t count on finding any in Denmark,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “The Danish are not exactly known for their pizza.”

  “What are they known for?”

  “Danishes,” said Chip, causing Big and Penny to snicker.

  “Really?” said Teddy.

  “I hope so,” said Mr. Cheeseman, who was known to have a terrible sweet tooth. “I love Danishes.”

  “Hmm,” said No-Face Roy. “I wish we were going to Turkey.”

  There is much debate over which are the two sweetest words in the English language. While some will say french fries, others would opt for free cash, frosted doughnuts, or no homework. But to those who had spent nearly a month aboard the Sea Urchin, the two words they most longed to hear were, “Land ho!”

  Dizzy shouted it out again from the crow’s nest and all hands rushed to the bow. There it was: the coast of Denmark, a mere sliver of land on the distant horizon but the most beautiful sliver of land any of them had ever seen.

  A spontaneous celebration erupted with much hugging, cheering, and dancing as Jibby broke out his fiddle for the first time since he played at Steve the sock puppet’s funeral. But this was not a funeral dirge. This was a reel, a lively Scottish folk song, perfectly suited to kicking off a bona fide wingding, which, as Jibby would be happy to tell you, is just like a shindig but without all the hullabaloo.

  Chip was surprised to find that Big was a very good dancer and equally surprised to discover that he was not. But Big was patient and a very good teacher as well, and soon Chip found himself nearly able to keep up with her.

  When the wingding finally came to an end, the ship was only a mile from shore. They could see the outline of a gray stone castle resting high atop a rocky cliff.

  “Wow,” said Teddy. “Is that where we’re going?”

  “That’s where we’re going,” said Three-Eyed Jake.

  “Grrrr,” said Pinky.

  Jibby ordered the sails at full and, as the shore grew nearer, the ship moved faster.

  “Pardon me, Captain,” said Penny with an urgent tug on Jibby’s buttoned sleeve, “but shouldn’t we be slowing down a bit?”

  “Nope,” said Jibby. “We’ve got no tender to shore, so the only way to get there is by swimming or running her aground and I have no intention of doing any swimming today. So the farther up the beach I can take her, the better.” Jibby gave the order to hold tight and prepare for a bumpy landing. Penny wrapped her arms around the mainmast and waited for impact.

  The keel met with the sandy ocean floor, grinding its way up the beach. The sudden jolt caused Teddy to lose his grip on the wheel and he was sent hurtling along the deck until Penny reached out and grabbed him by the ankle as he tumbled by.

 
“Thanks,” said Teddy, rubbing a brand-new bump on the crown of his head.

  “Thanks …?” Penny arched her eyebrows and waited.

  “Thanks, Queen of the Universe,” said Teddy with a smile.

  “Happy to help,” said Penny Nickelton, Queen of the Universe.

  As the ship continued to slice its way through the sand, it began to heel sharply to the left. Just when it seemed the ship would roll right over onto its side it ground to a stop, resting at a near forty-five-degree angle.

  The crew members were lowered by rope—women and children first—to the shallow water where they could easily wade ashore. Penny was neither the first nor the only one to kiss the ground as everyone, it seemed, considered this to be a good idea.

  “Yes, that’s definitely them,” said Professor Boxley from his position on the bluff about a half mile to the south, where every day for the past three weeks he and Gateman Nametag had scrutinized every ship that passed by. The Danish province of Jutland offered a long coastline and featured many small villages. The fact that Professor Boxley had been off by only a mile or so was impressive. He lowered the spyglass and Gateman grabbed it eagerly. Though waiting in Denmark may have been one of his most favorite things to do, he was happy the wait was almost over.

  “They’re kissing the ground,” he said. “Disgusting.”

  “I guess they’re glad they’re here,” said the professor.

  “Not nearly as glad as I am.” Gateman chuckled and the professor shot him a quizzical look. “I mean … I’m very happy for them. As you might imagine.”

  “Yes,” said the professor. “Now let’s hurry along before we lose them.”

  The route from beach to castle was a series of steep switchback trails that would take Captain Jibby and his crew to the top of the bluff. The climb was difficult enough without the sensation of the ground constantly moving back and forth, a feeling brought on by weeks at sea.

  “Don’t worry, lad,” said Sammy, scooping Teddy off his wobbly legs and placing him on his shoulders. “You’ll get your land legs back in a day or two.”

  Pinky growled louder and more steadily with every unsteady step they took toward the imposing gray castle, home to the Duke of Jutland. A small village spread out around the massive structure and people scurried about on its stone streets. There was certainly no shortage of strange looks from the villagers, but this time, with Jibby and his crew at their side, Mr. Cheeseman and his family did not find the quizzical stares intimidating.

  “I don’t know,” said Ethan. “Something about that castle is causing Pinky concern.”

  “Well, it is a pretty creepy-looking castle,” said Chip.

  “Es bastante escalofriante,” said Juanita.

  “Sí,” said No-Face Roy, who could only imagine what Juanita had just said.

  The dark stone walls of the fortress reached forty feet into the air, and its four circular towers rose another fifteen feet beyond that. Armed sentries patrolled the catwalk above. Creepy or not, they continued walking into the expansive shadow of the castle. When they neared the gatehouse, two stern-looking guards with lances at the ready stepped forward and shouted something in a language that was, if not Danish, certainly very Danishy sounding.

  Jibby had grown up in Scotland but his grandfather was Danish and he seemed to understand at least a little bit of what the guards were saying. He uttered a few Danishy-sounding phrases of his own, then removed the White Gold Chalice from its pouch. The guards immediately looked less stern and one of them cupped his hand around his mouth and shouted to the catwalk above. In a matter of minutes there was more shouting from above and the two guards stepped to the sides as the drawbridge lowered.

  When the drawbridge touched down upon the ground, a thin man with a rather large nose and a bushy blond mustache was waiting in the archway. “Velkomstord,” he said with a deep bow. “Welcome. My name is Yannick.”

  “Is that the duke?” whispered Teddy with a tug on his father’s hand.

  “I don’t think so,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “I think it’s just one of his helpers.”

  “You mean like the Santa Claus at the mall?”

  “Uh … sort of,” said Mr. Cheeseman.

  “I understand you have something for the duke,” said the duke’s helper.

  “Do indeed,” said Jibby, displaying the famous chalice.

  “I will be more than happy to take it to him,” said Yannick, reaching for the cup.

  Jibby pulled it away quickly. “Sorry,” he said. “This item is to be hand delivered.”

  “Very well. If you insist.” Yannick offered a tight-lipped smile, which faded when his eyes set upon Pinky and Digs. “I’m afraid that animals are most definitely not allowed in the castle. They will have to wait outside.”

  “No,” Penny blurted out. “I’m not leaving Pinky out here all by herself.” She knelt next to the hairless dog and gave her a tight squeeze.

  “It’s okay, Jibby,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “We’ll wait here for you.”

  “Are you kiddin’ me?” said Jibby. “Remember what happened the last time I left you people alone?” Jibby shook his head in mock disgust, then turned to Yannick and threw back his shoulders, towering over the much smaller man. “Nope,” he said. “The animals come with us or we don’t come at all.”

  Yannick tightened his lips once more, then spat out a sigh. “Very well, then. Follow me.” Despite Pinky’s growling, they did just that.

  With an officious stride, Yannick led them down a long, dim corridor and into the great hall, a cavernous room with large stained-glass windows, its cold stone walls festooned with brightly colored tapestries. The group continued on through the echoey room toward a set of large double doors at the far end. Two heavily armed guards opened the doors and the menagerie of misfits entered another hallway.

  “Now, when you meet the duke,” said Yannick, “there are a few things to remember. First, you must never look the duke directly in the eye. Never touch the duke. Never speak to the duke until he first speaks to you. Never turn your back to the duke. When the duke makes a joke or delivers a witty rejoinder, always laugh heartily—but not too heartily. Never make mention of other dukes while in the presence of the duke.”

  “This duke sure has a lot of rules,” whispered Penny as Yannick prattled on with his long list of nevers and alwayses.

  “Yeah,” Chip agreed. “Who does he think he is, a rock star?”

  “Or a sock star?” said No-Face Roy.

  “I just hope he’s happy to see us,” said Ethan. “Because if he’s not, he sure has a lot of weapons at his disposal.”

  “After all we’ve been through,” said Penny, “he’d better be happy.”

  They took a sharp left down another long hallway and nearly ran over their guide when he stopped abruptly in front of another large wooden door flanked by two more heavily armed guards. He shushed the group and directed his gaze at Big, motioning for her to remove her hat, which she did without protest. He knocked and waited until he heard, “Kommer!”

  He pushed the heavy door inward and led the visitors into a room of spectacular opulence. Enormous floor-to-ceiling mirrors and priceless works of art adorned the walls, which featured but one small window overlooking the surf below. It had obviously been designed for security and not for the view. Marble stairs led to a raised platform, which featured an oversized canopy bed, draped in the finest linens. Next to it stood a gong, eight feet in diameter and cast in bronze, suspended from a fabulously ornate frame. Adjacent to the gong was a chair, beautifully carved in mahogany and heavily decorated with jewels of various colors, shapes, and sizes. Sitting in that chair was a plump man with thick lips and a small collection of chins.

  “I give you Duke Ulrik of Jutland,” said Yannick.

  The duke raised an eyebrow and said something in Danish.

  “Greetings, your lordship,” said Jibby, trying very hard to avoid direct eye contact. This was not easy to do because the duke, as it turns out, had
one eyebrow that was much wider and bushier than the other, giving his face a certain lopsided quality. “My Danish is a tad rusty, I’m afraid. I don’t suppose you speak any English.”

  The duke chuckled at the absurdity of such a remark. “Ja,” he said. “I shpekken prefekt Engelsk.”

  Jake leaned in and whispered to Jibby, “What did he say?”

  “I think he said ‘I speak perfect English.’ ”

  “Ja,” said the duke with a jowly grin, his out-of-control eyebrow arcing upward. “Merry goot Engelsk.” With a grunt he forced himself out of the chair, his chins wobbling on the way. “Jai oondershtand dar haven der vide guld jallus?”

  “The … what?” said Jibby. “Oh, the White Gold Chalice. Yes.” Jibby held up the highly coveted goblet. At the very sight of it the duke’s eyes sparkled like the chalice itself.

  “Ahhh, ur esh beautyshmuckle. Jai dink dette kulls for ein vingdingle. Ha ha!” He grabbed a mallet hanging on the wall next to the gong and took a swing, putting his full weight behind it. The gong barely moved but its vibrations filled the room, shaking the mirrors and the paintings on the wall.

  In a matter of seconds, the door to the room opened and two servants appeared. “Ja, Hertugen?”

  The duke spoke to them in Danish. The only word the non-Danish speakers in the room could make out was vingdingle. Duke Ulrik, it appeared, was planning to throw a wingding in honor of the occasion. This seemed like a good idea to everyone but Pinky, whose constant growling indicated that she was somewhat less than fond of the chubby, jowly Duke of Jutland with his one rogue eyebrow.

  Chip knelt next to Pinky and gently grabbed her snout. “Shh.” Though he didn’t want to discourage the use of her psychic abilities, he feared the growling might insult the duke and result in an even more dangerous situation than the one Pinky foresaw. Pinky stopped growling but did not look happy about having to do so.

  The servants hurried off to prepare for the vingdingle and the duke waddled down the stairs toward Jibby, who took a knee out of respect for royalty. Tension filled the air as the duke’s plump fingers reached for the chalice. Once he officially took possession, as the cup’s rightful owner, the curse would finally be broken. The duke lifted the cup from Jibby’s outstretched hands and a collective sigh of relief rippled through the room. The relief soon turned to jubilation. The curse was over.