(A story for my friend Rebecca.)
“YAAARRGH!” shouted Captain Hairy Bumchin, wobbling precariously on the rolling deck of his ship. “SHIVER ME TIMBERS, YO HO HO AND A BOTTLE OF RUM!” He added.
For good measure he then bellowed “HORNSWAGGLERS!” before tripping over a coiled piece of rope and landing, face first, at the feet of a determined looking young Pirate.
Red Becca eyed him warily, before fixing him with her best steely gaze. “I don’t speak Pirate fluently yet.” she said. “But I think you’re saying that there’s a hole in the side of the boat.”
“ARRRRRR!!” roared Bumchin, approvingly. “That there be, young fella me lad!”
“Girl.” Said Red Becca, wrinkling her nose slightly in annoyance. “I’m a girl, not a boy. And that was very poor use of the English language, by the way.” Bumchin looked slightly uncomfortable.
After sailing the seas for many years, being a salty old sea-dog and generally making a nuisance of himself in pursuit of some shiny treasure, he wasn’t used to being spoken to like that by a nine year old landlubber. “You bilge sucking lassie!” he growled “I’ll cleave you to the...”
He didn’t get to finish his carefully crafted insult, as Red Becca interrupted him by pointing at a missing plank, raising one eyebrow and saying, curtly: “Be quiet! If we don’t get this hole fixed, we’ll sink, and then you won’t be so Jolly, Roger!”
“How did thee know my real name be Roger?” asked Bumchin.
Red Becca smiled slowly, whilst adjusting her eye patch. “Never mind. I’m really spectacularly clever like that. I once made a pizza with chocolate on, you know. Now, pass me that plank quickly, or we’ll be feeding the fishes. With ourselves.”
As Bumchin swung the plank round, he nearly clonked Red Becca with the other end. “Avast behind!” shrieked Red Becca, jumping out of the way.
“Arrr.” Said Bumchin, sadly. “Tis not my fault my behind be vast. Tis all the Captain’s Biscuits I’ve scoffed.”
Red Becca tried to push the plank into the hole. It almost fitted, but the rough edges just stopped it from sliding into place. She thought about it carefully for a moment or two, and looked at the Parrot on her shoulder, who just shrugged unhelpfully, before muttering “Pieces of Seven!” and falling asleep. “
Stupid bird.” Said Red Becca, shaking her head. She looked at Bumchin whilst thinking furiously. And then she spied the rough, prickly, stubbly chin, lurking at bottom of his face (as they often do), like a slightly disappointing hedgehog. An idea burst into her head. “Lean forward, Bumchin!” She instructed, lifting the plank up to his face. “I just need to sand a bit off the edge of this, using your sandpapery chin...”
Five minutes later, and the plank was in place. The ship was saved! Bumchin gingerly pulled a splinter out of his chin, before surveying the repaired ship. “Arrrr, lassie! Blow me down! We’ll nary be visiting Davy Jones locker today! A grand job thee have done, young Buccaneer. How can I reward thee?”
“Well....” said Red. “I reckon we should hoist the Mizzen, splice the mainbrace, and heave-ho on the poop deck”.
Bumchin roared with laughter, until tears ran down his wooden leg. “You said poop!” he managed to get out, before collapsing again with the giggles. Red Becca glared at the guffawing Captain, wondering if a cat o’nine tails would sort him out. Possibly ten, or even eleven, would be better.
At that very moment, a hoard of rather posh looking pirates boarded the ship, waving their cutlasses whilst trying not to get dirt on their tunics. The leader of the very neat band of pirates marched up to Bumchin, and announced (in a fairly posh voice): “Captain Bumchin! I and my crew are all called William, and we have come to claim back the Dubloons you stole from us, when we were attending the ‘Jolly Nice Chaps Called William’ convention. What do you have to say for yourself, you rogue?!”
Red Becca smiled, before looking at Bumchin, who was cowering behind a barrel, and said: “See? That’s what happens if you don’t pay your Bills...”
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