Overboard! Page 15

  “Yet the commotion will assuredly rouse the captain if not the crew.” growled the man in the black robes. If Jenkins suspects he is compromised, then he may destroy the map.” Daisy shifted her attention from Neep to the guards.

  “Damn it!” she said. “How about you, Mister Neep? Can you gain access to the captain’s chambers?” Neep shook his head.

  “Once he retired the door is locked from the inside and nobody ever ventures near. He would know something was wrong.” The man in the red shirt glanced casually up at Neep.

  “Ha! You are an obliging chap for sure, Mister Neep.” he said.

  “Just telling the truth.” said Neep simply.

  “Ain’t that a thing?” said the man. “Ain’t that a thing for sure?” Neep wasn’t sure how to respond to this, but the grin on the man’s face seemed to suggest that he was not mocking him as such. More a look of surprise than anything.

  “Have you seen maybe a map of special importance?” asked Daisy and Neep smiled.

  “Oh yes.” he said. “The lost island of El Bongo. The one with the lost treasure of Capability Jones’s? That map?” Neep noticed Daisy raise an eyebrow. She approached him once again, seeming to be trying to unnerve him.

  “You have seen it?” she almost gasped.

  “Oh yes.” Neep felt a stir of excitement at their apparent surprise. “At the meeting of The Golden Octopus. Captain Jenkins held it up for me to see. He seemed to be quite excited by it.” Neep was surprised to find the dark robed man standing right next to his ear, leaning in to him.

  “What about The Golden Octopus, my fine lad? Were they excited by it at all?” Neep racked his brains and was surprised by what he found there.

  “Actually, no.” sighed Neep. “In fact they seemed to find it quite amusing.” Neep was disappointed at the memory of the head of The Golden Octopus trying very hard to suppress a series of giggles. The sense of relief in the air was almost palpable as the dark figure and Daisy both drew back.

  “They don't believe it’s real.” Snorted Daisy, much to Neep’s surprise. The dark man beside him laughed deeply again, once again reminding Neep of rocks being ground together.

  “How wonderful.” he laughed loudly. Daisy approached him again.

  “What were you doing at the meeting of The Golden Octopus, Mister Neep?” she asked, breathing heavily into his ear. It was several seconds before he could even begin to form a reply.

  “Well. I am a Pirate consultant.” he said proudly, standing up straight.

  “Are you now?” said the man in the red shirt. “How sweet.” He paused to look across the deck at the guards again, almost as if itching to approach them. “What exactly does a pirate consultant do then?”

  “Well…” began Neep before the dark robed man nudged him in the ribs.

  “Later.” he muttered darkly. “So you are here to assist Captain Jenkins then?” he enquired. Neep thought this was definitely stretching the truth somewhat, but after all it was more or less what the head of The Golden Octopus had said. Almost.

  “Indeed.” said Neep, smiling brightly. Daisy raised an eyebrow and glanced at the ark robed man again.

  “I think we have a new plan.” She smiled, looking Neep up and down. Neep couldn’t quite figure out why, but he felt that perhaps things had just taken a slight change for the worse for him. “Do you perhaps have a piece of parchment about your person Mister Neep?” Neep shook his head.

  “I could go and get some.” he said helpfully. “A quill too if you wish.” He noticed the look of anger cross her face. “Some ink?” he finished, leaving the question hanging in the air.

  “Do you think I am stupid, Mister Neep?” she spat, and Neep was genuinely shocked. He was only trying to be helpful after all.

  Daisy examined the hurt on his face carefully as if summing him up, registering the air of disappointment he now seemed to almost radiate. She was not quite sure exactly what it was, but he seemed to have an almost palpable radiance of truth about him. She smiled. “You have precisely one minute.” Leaving the shouts of disbelief behind him Neep raced back to his bunk and opening up the sea chest that had been allocated to him snatched the parchment, quill and ink and returned to the deck. The three figures there looked at him almost incredulously as he handed the writing implements over.

  “You do it.” she said to Neep and nodding in agreement laid the parchment on the deck and dipped the quill in ink he poised waiting for her to dictate the note.

  “Captain Jenkins.” she began. “I am afraid we have your Mister Neep. Meet us in the at the city of Nine Wells in two week’s time. Look for the Inn known as the Drowned Duck. I pray you give our words your best attention. You may have the map, but we have the key.” Neep put the pen away as the dark robed man nodded at her. Neep blew on the parchment and satisfied that the ink was dry handed her the rolled up note. She passed it to the man in the red shirt and he pierced it onto a dagger that he produced from somewhere about his person. Leaning forward he threw the dagger through the air where it struck the main mast, burying itself in the wood at head height. Neep was surprised that the guards didn’t even seem to notice. One of them however seemed to be heading their way, whistling loudly to himself as he crossed the deck, seeming almost to be out for a stroll in the warm night. He was whistling a shanty under his breath as he approached. In the darkness of the prow of the ship, three figures instantly tensed, and Neep felt rather than saw the long slim sword appear at Daisy’s side. Tension seemed to flood the night as the man grew nearer.

  “Damn lantern’s blown out.” he muttered to himself, coming to a sudden halt as he saw the familiar six foot one figure of Neep standing in the darkness. “That you Mister Neep?” he laughed almost to himself. “What you doing standing there in the dark? Damned lantern seems to have blown itself out. Here let me fix it.” He moved forward and saw in the dark the other three figures poised in the darkness. Saw the unsheathed sword, and then his eyes locked on Daisy’s bosoms.

  “Alarm! Alarm!” he yelled at the top of his voice as the sword plunged into him and he fell to the deck. Suddenly the ship was alive with guards. Neep ducked as a pistol was discharged from the quarterdeck, a piece of the ships rail beside him smashing into pieces not far from where he stood.

  “Wait! Wait!” he yelled. “It’s me, Neep!” The man in the red shirt stood on the rail and helped them dark robed man descend over the side, holding his hand out to Daisy.

  “You are coming with us, Mister Neep.” she snarled, her small but surprisingly strong frame dragging him to what was left of the ships rail. “I am afraid we shall require you to be a hostage for the time being.”

  “Oh I don’t think that would work.” said Neep, looking down dizzily at the drop to the rowing boat below in which he could just make out the dark robed man holding up a lantern and looking up. “I don’t think that Captain Jenkins would miss me much. If at all. In fact, I think that he doesn’t even like me.” Neep paused, considering his options. “In fact I think he would be glad to be rid of me.” He thought about it some more. “Besides the ships biscuits may miss me.” he finished, having made up his mind. He looked back to Daisy and everything seemed to stop. he heard another pistol discharge itself, saw the man in the red shirt poised to help them down the rope, and then his chest seemed to explode, blood flying into the air. The man staggered and dropped out of sight.

  Daisy grabbed him and hauling him onto the rail put her hand about his waist pushed sharply. Neep had a sudden sense of falling, of flying through the air. His mind emptied as he replayed the sight of the man in the red shirt’s chest exploding as he was hit. He hadn’t even known the man’s name he thought, and then the sea took him and everything went black and very, very wet.

  Chapter 10

  ~ A Discarded Note ~

  “I am afraid we have your Mister Neep. Meet us in the at the city of Nine Wells in two week’s time. Look for the Inn known as the Slaughtered Duck. I pray you give our words your best attention. You may
have the map, but we have the key.” Finished Mister Lex.

  He passed the note to Captain Jenkins who peered at it briefly then passed it back. Lex let the dagger that has fixed the note to the main mast fall to the floor. A small crowd of the crew had gathered by now, listening carefully to what was happening. All they had known so far was that there had been some sort of commotion in the night and that now Mister Neep had disappeared and as a consequence the ship’s biscuits were decidedly restless. Even Mitch was grumbling at having to do his own stirring of the pot again.

  “Grog won’t make itself!” he had complained loudly to anyone that had the care to listen in the galley that morning, though even those who didn’t care to listen got it as well.

  Jenkins muttered to himself and returned to his cabin where later on he convened a meeting of his senior members of the crew.

  “Let us render these novaturient demands worthless and continue on our current course!” shouted Jenkins, waving the treasure map above his head.

  “Requiring change or alteration” interjected Mister Lex from the back of the room. Jenkins carried on as if he had not heard Mister Lex at all.

  “The lost island of El Bongo and the treasure of capability Jones awaits us, gentlemen!” he finished sitting down.

  “It’s not as if Mister Neep actually did anything at all really.” said one of the other pirates gathered at the table.

  “Stirred a pot.” laughed another man.

  “Indeed. Muttered Jenkins darkly. If The Golden Octopus had not forced him upon us he wouldn’t even have been on this ship in the first place! Let our current goal not be occaecaterated by one whose whole purpose is confined to the galley!” finished Jenkins with a shout.

  “Blinded or obscured.” said Mister Lex.

  “Well that is decided then.” said Jenkins, looking for approval from around the table, which was eagerly returned. “Now on to other matters. This map seems to show the route through the reefs that surround the stone fingers of the seven Tines.”

  “The Reef of Lost Hope.” muttered one of the pirates darkly, and several of the men about the table looked concerned all at once.

  “Though not a route through the reef.” said the man opposite Jenkins, which earned him a long dark stare from the captain.

  “Quite.” he said. “Thelethmust words ain’t going to secure us a treasure though lads!” Said the captain.

  “Braying or useless noises.” said Mister Lex. Several of the men at the table looked at him and nodded. Most of their conversations with the captain seemed to be done in retrospect they reflected.

  “I suggest we make to the reef with full sails and pick our way through it. It cannot be that difficult for so worthy a crew?” he said, clapping the nearest men seated on either side of him heartily on their backs, before raising his tankard.

  “To El Bongo and the lost treasure of Capability Jones! Our patration of the search for the treasure will be the stuff of legends!” he said and took a huge swig from the vessel. All of the men at the table turned to Mister Lex cups raised in mid-air. Lex blushed slightly.

  “Completion or conclusion of.” he said and as one the pirates drank deeply.

  Lex of course did not consider himself a pirate at all. His primary contract of employment was to translate whatever orders the captain gave, but once he had been taken into Jenkins's confidence and he realised that the mad pirate actually did possess a map of the legendary lost treasure of Capability Jones then everything changed.

  As a scholar the topic of the mad genius who was eventually be given the title of Capability Jones had been a particular interest of his. Who could not be drawn into his achievements? At the age of thirteen Jones had already under his belt a refinement to the chemical ingredients of gunpowder that made it more than thirty percent more efficient, completely re-designed the mechanism of the flintlock pistol and also invented a small device that when attached to an eye patch enabled the viewer to see through lady’s clothes.

  The latter had been particularly popular, though when Lex finally managed to purchase one he found the results at best open to conjecture. Still, as a marketable item it no doubt made Jones a small fortune. That the very nature of the device was ingeniously coupled with the fact that it simply didn’t work almost entirely ensured the fact that the queue for refunds was completely non-existent.

  Capability Jones continued to use the fortune that he had no doubt accrued to reinvest in the research that he continued to follow all of his life. There were the designs for a six-barrel automatic loading flintlock (ignored almost entirely because it was simply too heavy to pick up).

  Then there was the self-cleaning flag device (Also rejected: monkeys were just too thin on the ground presently), the rowing boat that seemed to row itself using an array of cogs, levers and straps (Presumably this one worked. Presumably because once the prototype was set running it disappeared over the horizon and was never seen again. Jones had simply forgotten to include the addition of brakes).

  This was indicative of the man. He simply had too many ideas, almost all of which he failed to see through to its completion. Upon his disappearance some forty years ago the study of his notebooks and drawings revealed a mind that was forever voyaging. In truth, most of the diagrams were so obscure it was thought for a while that they were in code. It soon became apparent however that this was simply not the case. Jones had such a short attention span that once he began a diagram for one device that by the time he finished drawing then it could actually be a diagram of something completely different. One such diagram proudly displayed the design for a bird washing footstool. There were many others.

  Lex of course, like every scholar who had come across the strange life of Capability Jones was fascinated by his eventual disappearance and the legend that began to build of a great treasure, secured on the lost island that Jones referred to simply as the island of “El Bongo”. There were even rumours of a map, but over the years the treasure was assumed lost. Many searched for it, but to no avail. That the map that Jenkins possessed was genuine Lex had no doubt. He had studied the man’s work over many years. The map was real enough. Just that it had lots of apparently random symbols on it that could not be translated. Numerous cryptologists had tried with no success. Lex reasoned that it was just another one of Jones’s great mysteries but he now felt nearer to solving his last great puzzle and finding exactly what this great treasure was than he ever had before.

  Later on Lex and the captain stood on the quarterdeck as the ship moved rapidly south. Lex was always surprised to find that when he was alone with the captain he rarely used any obscure words at all. It may have had something with the fact that if the words needed translating then Lex already knew them anyway, and so Jenkins didn’t seem to bother. Night was falling but a strong wind made their progress swift. Lex calculated that if the wind held they may be able to shave a couple of days off the two-week journey.

  “Do you think we took the right course of action today Mister Lex?” asked the captain as he looked out to sea.

  “Well Mister Neep is hardly an essential part of the crew now, is he?” he replied.

  “Two things bother me though.” said Jenkins. Lex was surprised. It was rare for the captain to ask his advice at all. It was equally rare for him to show doubt.

  “What are they?” asked Lex.

  “Well first of all the markings on the treasure map. There’s a large square of symbols on the map we have never been able to get anyone to translate.”

  “Probably some obscure scribblings of an overly overactive mind.” said Lex in dismissal. “And the other?” Jenkins pulled the note Daisy had left from within his jacket. Opening it he traced his finger through the text until he found the part he was looking for.

  “You may have the map, but we have the key.” What the hell does she mean by that?”

  “I think she intends to roblet us.” said Lex absent mindedly.

  “To obscure or lead astray.” said Captain Jenkins quiet
ly.

  “Quite.” said Lex. “Quite.”

  Chapter 11

  ~ L'uomo Sulla Luna ~

  Neep stood on the quarterdeck of The Magpie as it sailed west. There was a stiff breeze and a slight chill in the air, and he pulled his coat tightly about him. Like most of the other clothes that had been given to him by the crew, they were a little on the small size but at least when used in tandem with each other they more or less covered him up. His original outfit had been completely ruined by the time he had been shot at and thrown in the sea of course, but he reasoned brightly that it wasn’t such a good thing to dwell upon the negative things in life. At least he had clothes, and that was always a good place to start.

  In fact, life in general was now beginning to definitely look up. He was now actually a hostage, which put a spring in his step every day. Also he wasn’t made to stir any pots which made a nice change. As well, Daisy had given him the free run of the ship, though he suspected that she had also assigned a couple of pirates to keep an eye on him, for he rarely found himself alone. Yet the crew of the Magpie took to him with open arms, and soon he was feeling very much a part of the crew. It was not what he expected at all. When Daisy and Bones had dragged him out of the sea and made a hasty departure from The Torta Di Frutta, pistol shots from Jenkins ship tearing holes in the rowing boat all around them, he had upon arriving on the deck of The Magpie fully expected to be locked in the flag cupboard again.

  “Shall I just go in?” He had asked Daisy as he stood dripping on the deck. Daisy just looked puzzled.

  “You want to go in the flag cupboard?” She had said, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s okay - I don’t mind.” Neep had explained, pulling a fish out of his shirt. “It’s not as if I haven’t done it before.” he had opened the flag cupboard door and crouched down to go inside.

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Daisy had said in exasperation. “But if you do it’s up to you.”