by Andy Stanton
But just at that moment there came a voice and it was calling, calling, calling from the heavens above, it was calling, calling, calling from the heavens above, yeah, it was calling from the heavens above.
‘Look at me, Polly, look at me!’ called the voice, and Polly was flabbergasted to see a splendid red hot-air balloon sailing through the sky, with words FLAVOURS OF DISCOVERY painted on the side in letters of green and gold. And standing in the basket, fiddling with a yellow rope which had got tangled up in his chins, was none other than Jonathan Ripples, the fattest man in town.
‘Huzzoo!’ yelled he, ‘huzzoo, huzzay! I’m bored of the snacks we’ve got here in Lamonic Bibber – I’m off around the world to try out new ones! Who knows what wonderful delicacies I’ll discover?’ he laughed, his eyes shining and his stomach rumbling like a whopper. ‘But, Polly,’ he exclaimed as he noticed how unhappy she looked. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’
‘It’s Padlock,’ replied Polly. ‘I done lost him by accident.’
‘Well, maybe I can help,’ said Jonathan Ripples, scanning the streets spread out below him like a big moving map. ‘Yes, there’s your bear. He’s heading towards the docks. But be careful, Polly – he’s not alone!’
‘What do you mean?’ said Polly, but already her heart had guessed at the awful truth.
‘It’s Mr Gum and Billy William!’ yelled Jonathan Ripples as the balloon rose higher on the warm evening air. ‘They’re the ones who’ve got Padlock!’
‘So they’re behinds it, I might have known,’ trembled Polly. ‘Thank you, Mr Ripples, sir!’ she called after the disappearing balloon.
And with the smell of calamity whistling through her ribcage, Polly raced along the shabby winding lane that led down to the Lamonic Bibber docks.
Chapter 5
Down by the Docks
The docks! Where life was cheap and death was on special offer all year round. Where danger lurked around every corner, and each step you took might be your last.
Where a man could lose an entire month’s pay in five minutes gambling for cheese with the rats in the gutters, and the sailors sang drunken, and the clocks were all broken, and the barrels of rum hulked menacingly in the fog, and you never knew what anyone was thinking, but one thing was for certain – you knew they wished you harm.
Cautiously Polly picked her way through the narrow lanes lit dimly by Victorian gas lamps that glowed a dismal orange through the swirling mists. The air was thick with salt and exotic spices, and the night was filled with a hundred terrible sounds – unearthly shrieks, breaking glass, and the cries of the naughty ladies echoing through the alleyways:
‘A penny for a kiss o’ me ruby-red lips! An’ tuppence for a feel o’ me elbows!’
Beggars wailed and wept in the gutters, hair thieves stood huddled outside the tattoo parlours and terrifying gangs of gossipers roamed the streets, talking about people behind their backs.
‘Outta me way, matey,’ growled a fierce-looking sailor, shoving Polly rudely aside as he disappeared in through a crooked doorway. ‘I wanna see this bear everyone’s goin’ on about.’
‘Bear?’ whispered Polly. Following in after the sailor, she found herself standing in a dingy little tavern.
It was a vile sort of a place, heaving with rough laughter and reeking of sweat and sawdust. Crusty fishing nets hung from the low ceiling, and the tables were packed with red-nosed ruffians boasting about how many men they’d killed and eating anchors for a dare. In one corner a sinister midget sat writing his diary with an old-fashioned feather quill:
September 15th
Woke up. Did some sinister stuff. Killed a man for calling me ‘Shorty’. Killed another man just because I felt like it. Did some more sinister stuff. Watched The Simpsons.
Trying not to breathe too deeply in case she got drunk, Polly passed through a series of shady backrooms where all manner of illegal entertainments were afoot. Card games, spider-wrestling, rooster-inflating contests – it was all going on. But finally Polly came to the last room of all, a dark dank den tucked away at the very back of the tavern, far from the eyes of decent folk and packed with boisterous sailors, all waiting for the show to begin.
Suddenly a hush descended as a feeble green light was switched on. Polly’s eyes widened as Mr Gum stepped out on to a rickety wooden stage, grinning like a haunted shipwreck.
‘Good evenin’, gentlemen,’ said he, ‘an’ welcome to me brilliant show! An’ what a spectacular evenin’ of entertainment an’ cruelty to animals we got for you tonight! Gentlemen, I present to you the one . . . the only . . . the incredible . . . Mr Funny, the Dancin’ Bear! Bring ’im out, Billy! An’ poke ’im in the ribs a bit for a laugh!’
The sailors whooped and screamed as Billy William pushed Padlock roughly into the sickly green spotlight. Then, before Polly’s very knees, the poor animal was forced up on to his hind legs and made to shuffle sadly around in cruel iron chains while the sailors hooted and snorted, clapping their hands together and chanting their traditional sea shanty:
Dance for yer supper!
You big ugly tungler!
Dance for yer sailor pals!
An’ the wind she blows high an’ the wind she blows low
With a wiggle-me-higgle
Me-higgle-me-ho
With a wiggle-me-higgle
Me-higgle-me-hee!
You hilarious creature
Dance for yer tea!
‘So this is what happens to bears lost in the World of Men,’ whispered Polly to herself. ‘They gets treated like objects to be made fun of! It’s an outrage!’
Slowly, slowly, the minutes ticked by. Padlock danced, and Mr Gum sneered, and Billy William passed his greasy cap around, crying, ‘Come now, gents! Show yer appreciation for Mr Funty, the Dancin’ Bear! Thaaaat’s right!’ wheedled Billy as the night wore on and the cap grew heavy with golden coins. ‘Fill it up with yer riches!’
Polly rubbed her eyes tiredly. Would this hellish spectacle never end? But eventually the last sailor coughed up. The show was finally over. And with the cheers of the crowd still ringing in their ears, the villains bundled Padlock through a back door and out into the misty night.
‘Right,’ scowled Mr Gum in the dark alleyway behind the tavern. ‘Let’s see what we got here then. One bit o’ gold in a butcher’s cap,’ he counted. ‘Two bits o’gold in a butcher’s cap . . .’
While the rascals stood counting their loot in the dancing moonlight, Polly tiptoed over to Padlock, who was slumped exhaustedly against a stack of wooden crates piled higgledy-piggledy upon the slimy cobblestones.
‘Nine bits o’gold in a butcher’s cap . . . Ten bits o’ gold in a butcher’s cap . . .’
Mr Gum’s rasping chant mixed with the lapping of the waves like a bad luck dream.
‘Padlock,’ whispered Polly, ‘I let you down back in the town square but I won’t never do it ’gain, I swears it!’
‘Mmph?’ said Padlock weakly. His chest was heaving in and out terribly and Polly was horrified to see how frail he was.
‘Come on, boy,’ she whispered urgently, unbuckling the iron chains around the bear’s ankles. ‘I’m a-gettin’ you out of here.’
‘Twenty-three bits o’ gold in a butcher’s cap . . . Twenty-four bits o’ gold in a butcher’s cap . . .’
‘That’s the way,’ said Polly, as she took Padlock’s big brown paw in her little pink hand and together they began to tiptoe down the alley.
‘Thirty bits o’ gold in a butcher’s cap! Well, call me a fatty, me countin’ is done! Thirty bits o’ gold, Billy!’ said Mr Gum triumphantly. ‘Not a bad start but I wants MORE!’
‘Well, don’t you worry, Mr Gum me old Mr Gum,’ laughed Billy William, ‘there’s plenty other taverns to visit. An’ – hold on!’ he exclaimed, sniffing with his long thin nose on the wind. ‘That smells like a bear escapin’!’
‘WHAT?!’ roared Mr Gum, his bloodshot eyes a-glintin’ an’ a-gluntin’ in the moonlight. ‘I don’t believe
it!’ he roared as he spotted Polly. ‘It’s that little meddlin’ girl an’ all! GET ’EM!’
‘UUURRF!’ With all her strength, Polly pushed desperately at a great pile of barrels, sending them rumbling towards the villains and knocking them flat on their annoying backs. The cap flew from Mr Gum’s hand and all the money they’d made went rolling down the alleyway and straight through the open doors of an orphanage.
‘Hooray!’ cried the orphans, ‘now we’ve got enough money to buy an oven and we can finally eat proper bread instead of this horrible raw dough! Thank you, Mr Gum, you’ve made our lives much better with your generosity!’
‘Shabba me whiskers!’ scowled Mr Gum, who hated doing good deeds, even by accident. In a flash the villains were back on their feet and back in the race – but Polly and Padlock had already reached the waterfront.
‘Anchors aweigh!’ shouted a voice up ahead. Through the fog, Polly could just make out a tall sailing ship with masts and rigging, just like in exciting adventure stories like ‘Treasure Island’ or slightly less exciting ones like ‘Island’.
‘Anchors aweigh!’ shouted the voice again as the ship prepared to leave the docks. Polly glanced back and saw Mr Gum and Billy steaming down the alleyway towards them like the smelliest bowling balls ever born. There was nothing for it but –
‘Jump, Padlock, JUMP!’ yelled Polly, leaping on to Padlock’s hairy back, and with the last of his strength Padlock done a good one, sailing through the air with his paws stretched out and his fur flying out in every direction.
He landed heavily on the ship’s deck, and by the time Mr Gum and Billy reached the dockside the ship was already pulling away through the murky sloshity waters.
‘They ain’t gettin’ away with this!’ screamed Mr Gum, jumping on to a rundown little fishing boat called The Dirty Oyster. Billy hopped in after him and started up the engine, sending billowing clouds of filthy black smoke into the night air, and off they set in hot pursuit.
But luckily the pursuit wasn’t that hot after all, because The Dirty Oyster was absolutely loaded with cans of smuggled beer. In less than ten minutes the villains were completely drunk, completely lost, completely going round in circles, completely shouting at each other and completely and utterly useless.
Polly and Padlock had escaped!
Chapter 6
Captain Brazil
‘Hoist the mainsail! Fifty degrees to starboard! ‘Man the rigging!’ A booming voice rang out, seeming to fill the whole world as Polly and Padlock lay shivering on the lurching deck.
‘Forty degrees North! Wind the windlass! Lick the ropes!’
The sails flapped and shuddered as the ship began to pick up speed. And from out of the mist stepped a small man in a navy blue uniform, his chest thrust out like a vainglorious acorn.
His grey hair was swept up on top of his head and his eyes were rolling about wildly in their sockets like someone was playing pinball inside his brain.
‘What’s the meaning of this?’ he demanded, strutting over to Polly and Padlock. ‘What are you doing aboard my ship? Explain yourselves at once! Actually don’t, I can’t be bothered to listen. My name’s Captain Brazil – welcome aboard the Nantucket Tickler!’
Now, Captain Brazil was a very famous sea captain indeed. In his time he had been awarded all sorts of medals, and he had once nearly met someone who knew the Queen. And he had fought in some incredible battles at sea, including The Incredible Battle At Sea (1962), The Incredible Battle At Sea II (1963), Revenge of the Incredible Battle At Sea (1966), The Incredible Battle At Sea Strikes Back (1970) and The Incredible Battle At Sea Gets Married (1978).
Yes, Captain Brazil was an impressive sight all right, with all those medals on his chest and hardly any soup stains in his hair. But here’s the thing. If you look at the dates of those battles, you will see that they were all ages ago, when Captain Brazil had been a young man, fit as a unicorn and twice as real. And now that he was old and grey, some whispered that Captain Brazil had gone mad from too many years at sea and what’s more, they were right. He was an absolute CRAZER.
‘Right,’ Captain Brazil told Polly when the ship was safely out of the docks and in open water, heading into the watery future like only ships know how. ‘There’s no girls allowed on board the Nantucket Tickler, that’s a rule. But we do need a cabin boy, so I’m afraid you’ll have to do what they always do in exciting sea adventures. You’ll have to disguise yourself as a boy to fool me. But watch out. I’m not easily fooled. If I catch any girls onboard, you’re in for it!’
‘But you already knows I’m a girl,’ said Polly in confusion.
‘Get disguising, that’s an order!’ commanded Captain Brazil, his eyes rolling more wildly than ever. ‘And that bear’s got to go too – although we are looking for a ship’s cat,’ he hinted.
So Polly and Padlock climbed below decks, and five minutes later they emerged completely transformed. Polly was dressed in shorts and a shirt, with a stick-on moustache made from an old piece of hammock. And she had stuck some triangular ears on Padlock and painted ‘MIAOW’ on his side in tar.
‘Good evenin’,’ began Polly.
‘You sound like a girl,’ said Captain Brazil suspiciously. ‘Make your voice go deeper.’
‘Good evenin’, Cap’n,’ began Polly again, in as deep and gruff a voice as she could manage. ‘My name’s Harry Edwards. I been a boy all me life an’ I always wee standin’ up cos I’m not a girl or nothin’. An’ this here’s Purrface Mulligan,’ she said, pointing to Padlock. ‘The bestest pussycat in all London Town. He can catch mice like you wouldn’t believe an’ he’s def’nitely not a bear.’
‘Well,’ said Captain Brazil happily. ‘What a stroke of luck! There we were, looking for a cabin boy and a ship’s cat – and now we’ve found one of each. Welcome aboard! Now run off, you scallywags, and go and ask Cook for some dinner.’
But as soon as the two of them were out of sight, Captain Brazil rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
‘Hmm,’ he frowned, ‘there’s something not quite right about this “Harry Edwards” fellow. He talks like a boy and he walks like a boy – but I’ve got my suspicions. And as for that “cat” of his, well, I’m just not sure he’s a cat at all. I shall have to keep a very close eye on those two. No one fools Captain Brazil!’
What an absolute CRAZER!
Chapter 7
Life at Sea
Man the rigging! Scrub the decks! Hoist the mainsail! Do something with a rope! Fry the bacon! Eat the bacon! Say, “mmm, that was nice bacon”! Play the accordion! Stop playing the accordion! Sit around doing nothing for a bit! Do the crossword! Trip over a bucket and go “ouch!” Climb the mast pretending to look out for whales, but really just have a crafty snooze! Do something else with a rope!’
Each morning Captain Brazil would issue his commands, and each morning the ship’s men would scuttle around doing everything he said. For although he was as mad as a dandelion, Captain Brazil’s men loved him like a brother, especially one of the crew called Longlegs Henderson, who actually was his brother.
And all things considered, life aboard the Nantucket Tickler was really quite pleasant. Polly was every bit as good as a real cabin boy and she soon made herself very useful, polishing the captain’s nose, mending old sails with needle and thread, and fetching supplies from below deck for Cook. The only problem came when she was told to give the ship’s rail a new lick of paint.
‘What’s this?’ thundered Captain Brazil, examining Polly’s handiwork. She had painted the rail a lovely shade of bright pink and decorated it with little red hearts, glitter and stickers of ponies.
‘You’re not really a girl in disguise are you, Harry Edwards?’ said the captain suspiciously.
‘Oh, no,’ replied Polly in her gruffest voice, kicking herself for having made such a stupid mistake. ‘Course not, Cap’n.’
‘Well, you’d better not be,’ muttered the little man, leaning in so close that Polly could see her own face re
flected in his well polished nose. ‘No one makes a fool of Captain Brazil!’
Still, the rest of the crew suspected nothing and they were generally quite kind to Polly. The First Mate, a jolly, white-bearded fellow by the name of Nimpy Windowmash, had taken a particular liking to the new cabin boy and he spent hours teaching Polly all the tricks o’ the sea – how to tell what direction you were going in by just having a bit of a guess, what ‘hoist the mainsail’ actually means (nothing at all) and how to find out how cold the water is by pushing someone into the water and asking them how cold it is.
And as for Padlock, or ‘Purrface Mulligan’ as the sailors knew him, he wasn’t really a very good ship’s cat and he never once did manage to catch a mouse – but he didn’t seem to be quite so sad these days. Perhaps the sea air was doing him some good.
And so the Nantucket Tickler sailed on, through fair skies of blue and through squally storms, through seas as calm as a new-born handkerchief and seas as angry as a heavy metal band stuck in a lift. Round the Cape of Good Hope they sailed, into the Indian Ocean and on past Curly Michael, the naughty sea serpent who lives off the coast of Madagascar, terrorising passing ships with his boring stories about kelp. And as the days stretched into weeks, Polly began to feel that things were going to work out fine.
‘You know,’ she told Padlock one warm tropical evening, as the dolphins blew on their trumpets and the sun sank slowly in the West, ‘everythin’ turned out pretty good. I dunno where this ship’s headin’ but I reckons we’re soon gonna gets you back to the Kingdom of the Beasters, where you can roam wild an’ free an’ hairy once more. An’ best of all, we done completely escaped from Mr Gum,’ she continued. ‘Mark my words, Padders, he won’t be botherin’ us no more.’