by Nigel Smith
He had played polo with kings, hunted rhino in the Serengeti, and discovered a cure for warts.
And as far as Nat was concerned, he was also a big fat show-off.
How come you can do so much and Dad can do, well, not very much at all? she thought. But Dad wasn’t feeling down about that, oh no. Just the opposite. Which was THE VERY WORST THING.
You see, Nat knew that Dad liked to fit in with whoever he was talking to. He was terrible with men in white vans. Instead of saying something normal like: “Good morning, Dave, lovely weather, sorry your wife’s not been too well,” Dad would say: “Orlright geez, today is sweet as, innit? Soz about the old ball and chain, what can you do, eh? Fierce,” and other such gibberish.
A man in a van had once leaned out of his window and said to her: “Excuse me, young lady, but I think your father’s having a seizure.”
So of course tonight Dad had turned into Rocky. He was now ACTION HERO DAD. He didn’t tell fibs, he just didn’t tell the whole story.
Rocky would talk about hunting for food; Dad would say, oh yes, he’d done the same thing. The difference was, Rocky was talking about tracking down wild boar in Bolivia and Dad would mean tracking down wild boar sausages in the supermarket.
When Rocky and Dad both remembered watching the sun rise over ancient Inca ruins, Rocky had been there; Dad had watched it on a documentary.
Rocky went down the ‘River of Certain Death’ in the Himalayas in the shadow of Everest. Dad went down the ‘Flume of Fun’ at the local water park in the shadow of the burger van.
Hot-air ballooning? Rocky was swept a hundred miles across the skeleton coast of Namibia, when he became tangled in the mooring ropes. Dad was dragged across a car park when he bought too many party balloons for Nat’s birthday.
Nat spent the whole night terrified that Dad would be unmasked as A MASSIVE FRAUD. But she had an even bigger worry. With all Rocky’s praise, she knew Dad was starting to believe he was actually a good sailor. This is just going to end horribly, she predicted …
… accurately.
Emily was staring affectionately at her husband. “Isn’t he wonderful?” she gushed. “We only met a year ago. We kissed under the Eiffel Tower in Paris. I fell madly in love.”
“Uuuuuurgh,” said Darius, revolted. He put his fingers down his throat to improve the retch.
“Let me tell you about the first date I had with Nat’s mum,” said Dad. Nat kicked him under the table. “Shut up shut up shut up,” she said.
Darius jumped off his chair. “Tell me,” he said gleefully, watching Nat squirm. “We all want to know. Kissy kissy kissy.”
“Shut UP, chimpy,” said Nat, making a grab for him and knocking her plate flying. He ran off laughing and she chased him around the restaurant, weaving past waiters with trays of food held dangerously high above their heads.
“I think they will be friends forever,” said soppy Emily, watching Nat chuck bread rolls at Darius’s head. A waiter came over to Dad. “You must stop zis naughtiness.”
“Oh, it’s only a bit of harmless fun,” said Rocky.
And then a waiter carrying a tray of hot fish soup tripped over Darius and they decided it was probably time to leave. Fast.
As he said goodnight, Rocky slapped Dad affectionately on the back, almost sending him into the canal. “Tomorrow I’m taking you around the town. Show you things tourists never see,” he boomed.
Nat waited for Dad to turn Rocky down and tell him they had a long journey ahead and would need to get going in the morning, but he just smiled and said, “Sounds great!”
Nat’s heart sank. Dad seemed to have forgotten they still had MILES to go to deliver the barge, and that they were still nowhere near even STARTING to fix up the Poshes’ house. Nat couldn’t let him get distracted. She could almost hear Mimsy laughing already.
She had to get them out of Rocky’s clutches. But how?
he next morning Dad had forgotten all about the house. He seemed super-content to just mooch about town with Rocky, who knew EVERYBODY, and was greeted like a long-lost friend wherever he went.
“Isn’t it fantastic here?” said Dad to Nat, sitting on a bench in the market square, chugging hot chocolate.
There were stalls of ripe-smelling cheese, cured meats, sweet-smelling herbs tied with ribbon, glossy fruit and veg, and angry stallholders chasing Darius.
“Normally Darius would get chucked in the canal for taking all the sticky labels off that lady’s jam jars,” said Dad. They watched as the jam-jar lady saw Darius was with Rocky and ruffled the boy’s untidy hair instead.
Later, after a long leisurely lunch and plenty more stories, Rocky gave them his guided tour around the town. He seemed to know about everything; from the clock tower to the bus stops.
Nat started to miss the ‘Dad tour’ of a town. Dad never knew anything about anywhere, so he’d just make it up. His tour would go something like:
“The wonky clock tower was a gift from King Ludwig the Unsteady in 1789. He thought it was straight. The town bus stops were built by the Romans. The first mayor was Dave the Flatulent and that’s enough history, I think this café sells pork pies, let’s try it. Oh, and don’t tell Mum we went to the arcade again today— let’s say we went to a toothbrush museum.”
By now it was getting late. The town was busy and more boats were arriving all the time. “It’s the last night of the festival,” said Rocky. “You will not believe what happens on the canal tonight.”
Do we get to put you in a sack with bricks and chuck you in? thought Nat. I’d definitely buy tickets to see that.
“Bring your boat round to the south marina by nine o’clock,” said Rocky. “Look over the wall and you’ll get a grandstand seat for something amazing. The lock is closed but I’ve spoken to my good friend Pascal the lock keeper …”
Of course you have, thought Nat. Show-off.
“… and he’ll let you through. Remember, south marina, nine o’clock sharp.”
“I can manage that,” said Dad.
No, you can’t, thought Nat.
“Of course you can,” said Rocky, “a great sailor like yourself. Oh, you do have to be careful though because you reach three bridges and …”
“… I think I know what I’m doing,” said Dad loftily.
“Sorry, Captain,” Rocky said. “Of course you do; see you at nine.”
“Dad, you don’t know what you’re doing,” said Nat furiously, when Rocky and Emily had gone. “You don’t even know what you’re doing when you’re at home doing things that you should know how to be doing.”
“Have a bit more faith in me,” said Dad. “Rocky thinks I’m a brilliant sailor.”
“But, Dad, he’s MASSIVELY WRONG,” said Nat. She had tried to get hold of Mum with Emily’s mobile but it had gone to the answer machine. She knew Mum could talk some sense into Dad, but she hadn’t really wanted to leave a message that said:
“Mum, help, Dad thinks he’s a cross between Admiral Nelson and Captain Jack Sparrow and we’re all doomed so please DO SOMETHING.”
So she’d just said:
“Hi, Mum, we’re having a lovely time, missing you a lot. Wish you were here. I mean, I REALLY wish you were here.”
“Come on,” said Dad, “let’s get in that barge and show this town exactly what we can do.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, thought Nat.
he big event that night was the Historic River Joust. It wasn’t historic. It was dreamed up a few years ago by the new deputy mayor who wanted even more visitors to come to his town.
The supermarket car park was promptly turned into a spiffy new marina, and now every year, in honour of some made-up medieval battle, there was RIVER JOUSTING.
This was written on posters and leaflets everywhere. Written in French.
Along with a warning that boats should NOT go into the north marina that night …
None of which could be read by the passengers on board La Poubelle.
The ugly
old barge gave a great roar as its smoky old engine came to life once more.
Dad shouted, “Cast off, landlubbers!”
Nat (unwillingly) and Darius (eagerly) untied the ropes and the barge was soon weaving its way down the canal. It was fast becoming dark but there was just enough light to see the look of fear on other boaters’ faces as the big rusty barge went by.
Nat noticed Darius had a tea towel round his head. “I’m a pirate,” he said, waving a stick which he’d sharpened to a point with his little knife.
“You look like a rubbish shepherd in a school nativity play,” said Nat, dodging out of the way of his jabbing stick.
They soon approached the big lock. The lock gates looked bigger and even more intimidating in the gloom. Dad slowed and waved to a man in a little hut. The man came out and waggled a warning finger at Dad.
“He wants us to go back,” said Nat. “Do as he says, Dad.”
But Dad wasn’t just Dad. Tonight he was Captain Dad.
“Friend of Rocky,” shouted Dad.
The lock keeper’s face broke into a smile. “OK,” he said, and began working the lock gates. They creaked open with a horrid grinding noise that sent the cowardly Dog scurrying back down into the cabins.
“This is a really bad idea, Dad,” shouted Nat. “That’s the noise you get when the doors to Dracula’s castle open. It’s never a good noise. Nothing fun happens when you start with that noise. You’ve seen the films.”
“Landlubber,” said Dad, pointing the boat into the lock. Around them were high walls, dark green with wet weeds. It was like they had sailed underwater. The lock-keeper’s assistant ran down some slippery steps and grabbed their boat ropes, looping them around bollards.
“Think they’re supposed to do that?” asked Dad.
“Why are you asking ME?” shouted Nat, properly scared. The huge gates in front of them began to open and thousands of gallons of water began frothing angrily towards them, spraying them all in the face. The noise of the churning water was tremendous.
“You’ve broken the lock and we’re all going to die and then we’ll be in massive trouble,” wailed Nat.
The boat rocked from side to side as the water flooded in, raising them upwards. Dad smiled grimly at the lock keeper above him. He wasn’t going to show fear, oh no. This was all in a day’s work for Captain Dad.
“If we all get drowned, I’m telling Mum,” shouted Nat. NOW Captain Dad looked nervous.
Eventually the boat was raised fully to its new height, the second set of lock gates in front of them opened and they were free to sail through into the new section of the canal. It was empty. It was quiet. It was spooky. Nat could see Captain Dad’s brave face wasn’t quite so brave any more. She didn’t know if it was the threat of drowning or threat of Mum.
They sailed on regardless, until they approached a wide circular basin of dark water where they were faced with a choice of three bridges to go under: one leading straight ahead and one either side. Under the bridges and beyond there was only darkness. There was no obvious way to go.
“Maybe we should just park,” said Nat.
“But Rocky’s expecting us,” said Dad. “We can’t let him down.”
“We don’t know which way to go,” said Nat. “Why didn’t you just listen when Rocky was trying to tell you?”
“The town’s over there,” said Dad, pointing in the direction of lights, glinting off to the left. “We’ll just go there.”
“Where’s the map?” said Nat.
“Map?” scoffed Dad. “Columbus didn’t have a map and he found America.”
“Yes, but he was looking for India,” said Nat. “He was the most lost sailor in the whole history of sailing.”
She could see Dad was wavering when Darius suddenly shouted: “Aaaarrr! Scurvy knaves.”
He pointed with his jabbing stick and there, on the right-hand bridge, was the unmistakable figure of Suspicious Mick!
“In that case, we’d better go left!” said Dad, turning the wheel decisively.
And without knowing it, the barge and her doomed crew headed straight for the forbidden NORTH marina…
Meanwhile … The north marina was the newly created site of the un-historical River Joust. It was lit by flaming torches, flickering off the faces of the tipsy spectators. The joust was wildly popular with both locals and tourists with their lovely tourist euros – a simple contest powered by fake history and real wine.
The way it worked was simple: two beautiful, delicate, slender wooden barges faced each other across the water. On the front of each barge was a raised platform. A contestant held a large wobbly pole like a lance. Then the two boats, propelled by teams of rowers, charged at one another.
The aim was to knock each other off the barge and a great boozy cheer would go up whenever anyone was tipped into the canal. This silliness went on until the wine ran out.
This year’s competition was reaching a climax. Only two contestants had not been dunked. One was the great Rocky. As he stood on the platform, gripping his pole, he faced his opponent, a huge fat pastry chef no one had even managed to wobble, let alone tip into the water.
As he looked for a delicate area to shove his pole into, Rocky heard a coughing, grinding engine noise that sounded familiar. He decided he hadn’t got time to worry about that now, he had a lardy chef to dunk. He gripped his pole and hoped his new friend the Captain was watching … Sadly his new friend the Captain wasn’t watching; he was in a dark tunnel, in trouble. It was HIS boat that was making the noise, and the noise was worse than usual. The engine was smoking madly. Thick black stuff was pouring out of the chimney with such speed and force that it had filled the whole tunnel, making them all cough and gasp for breath.
“Do something, Dad,” spluttered Nat, dashing into the wheelhouse, “or we’ll all be turned into kippers!”
“I’ve tried to cut the engine but the knob’s rusted stuck!” shouted Dad over the roar. The engine was now getting faster, not slower. The boat began to pick up speed.
“Turn it the other way,” yelled Nat.
“I did that,” said Dad. “That’s when it got stuck.”
“You are an idiot!” shouted Nat.
“I know what I’m doing!” shouted back Dad.
Darius came running into the wheelhouse too. “The engine cannae take it, Captain!” he said. “Ha, I’ve been dying to say that for ages.”
Dad laughed.
“Except it’s true,” said Darius. “Which makes it way better.”
“I’ll fix it,” said Dad. “Take the wheel, you two. Just keep going straight. You can’t go wrong.”
“Yes, we can,” said Nat. “We can go ever so very much wrong. We’re going wrong already. We went wrong when we left home and we’ve been going wronger every single day.” She would have said more but she burst into another coughing fit.
“Rocky repaired his engine in a force ten off the coast of Cape Horn in a lee tide with a falling, er, something or other!” Dad reminded them.
“You do not know what any of that means!” yelled Nat. It really was noisy in the tunnel and they were going far too quickly. Behind them, white water splashed furiously.
“He fixed it with a bit of fishing wire and some chewing gum. I’m sure I can remember how.” Dad held out his hand. “Darius, spit out your gum.”
Dad dashed below with the sticky gum and some wire and went into the room where the old engine lurked. It was big and hot and oily and vibrated like an electric jelly. He looked at all the moving parts.
“Rocky went into great detail about this engine, and it made perfect sense at the time,” shouted Dad, before adding, “only now it makes no sense at all.”
He concentrated. Without thinking, he popped the gum in his mouth.
“Is that your dad shouting?” asked Darius, who was steering with his eyes closed to see if he had any spider senses.
“What’s he saying?” asked Nat, panicky.
“It sounds like ‘aaagh uuuu
gh yuk’,” said Darius.
“Will you open your eyes and look where you’re going?” she shouted, grabbing the steering wheel.
“Gerroff!” he said, elbowing her sharply. “I’m in charge now.”
They struggled and the wheel turned this way and that. Dad came staggering in. “You’re making me seasick,” he said. “Gimme the wheel.”
“No!” said Nat.
“No!” said Darius.
“Yes!” said Dad, grabbing the wheel and pulling hard. It came off in his hand. “That’s not so good,” he remarked. Then the boat shot out of the smoky tunnel like a shell from an old cannon.
Straight into the wrong marina – and headed right for the jousting barges.
ooooh,” said the audience, who thought this was a new and interesting part of the joust. Some even applauded.
The former deputy mayor who, hot on the heels of his success with the River Regatta, had invented the River Joust and was promptly promoted to mayor, dropped his jaw and his wine glass at the same time.
What was going on? Where had the horrible barge come from?
This was terrible. Worse, he’d persuaded the local TV news to cover the event. They had been looking a bit bored but now they perked up. “Get a close-up of that big ugly boat,” said the reporter, “it’s the most exciting thing to happen all day.”
The cameraman stopped focusing on pretty girls in the crowd and swung his camera round to the action.
Rocky and the fat pastry chef were already moving towards each other for the final joust. But they were no longer looking straight ahead. Both men were staring in terror at the noisy, rusty, smoky, out of control-y barge chugging speedily towards them!
The rowers couldn’t see Dad, but they did wonder what the horrible burning smell and grinding engine noises were. The brightest of them jumped overboard.
“Ah,” said Dad, “we might be in the wrong place. And possibly at the wrong time.”
“What have you done, Dad?” wailed Nat, horribly aware they were in a VERY wrong place at a VERY wrong time.
Nat took in all the faces staring down at her from the sides of the marina. People were cheering, or yelling, it was hard to tell. Flashguns were going off and she saw the horrible outline of a TV CAMERA.