Mr Gum and the Secret Hideout (5 page)

‘Why must love be so painful?’ he protested. ‘Why, Elizabeth, why? Why, Elizabeth, why? Why, Elizabeth, w–’

‘Um, ’scuse me, you complete weirdo,’ said Mr Gum, after about half an hour of this. ‘But that ain’t no beautiful lady, it’s jus’ Billy.’

‘So it is,’ said Captain Brazil, standing up and brushing himself off. ‘Sorry about that. Now, gentlemen. What can I do for you on this fine night? Surely ye haven’t run out of meat already?’

‘Well, we have,’ snarled Mr Gum. ‘So give us some more – or I’ll wallop you up!’

‘Yeah,’ grinned Billy. ‘An’ the rottener the better!’

‘So be it,’ said Captain Brazil grandly. ‘Men – unleash the cargo!’

‘Aye aye, sir,’ said Brendan Jawsnapper. There was a mighty snap as he bit through a rope, and then

BUMP!

JOSTLE!

BASH!

A great heap of barrels came rolling down the gangway like an avalanche made of wood. One hundred barrels! Two hundred barrels! Three hundred barrels! Yes, if you like barrels, this is definitely the scene for you!

Mr Gum opened the first barrel by telling Billy to open the first barrel. Then the two villains hunched eagerly over it, their eyes agleam in the moonlight.

‘Meat,’ drawled Mr Gum, reaching in and scooping up a sloppy green and red mess as if it were a heap of fine emeralds and rubies.

‘Rotted to perfection!’ said Billy, taking a long admiring sniff.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Captain Brazil. ‘We have many fine meats aboard my vessel. But each time you come, you take only the poorest and dirtiest meats. Why, gentlemen, why?’

‘Cos they burn the best,’ said Billy proudly. ‘An’ they make the most poisonous-est gases what mucks up the weather. See, me an’ Mr Gum here is hidin’ out in a secret hideout –’

‘Shut up, you muncher!’ hissed Mr Gum, boxing Billy’s ears with a cardboard box. ‘You never know who might be listenin’!’

‘Well, I always knows who might be listenin’!’ announced Polly as she and Friday sprang up from under their pebble. ‘THE DEPARTMENT OF CLOUDS AN’ YOGURTS, that’s who! Freeze, you naughties – you’re all under arrests!’

‘W
ho be these two whippersnaps?’ roared Captain Brazil as Friday and Polly emerged from the darkness.

‘I’ll tell you who they be,’ snarled Mr Gum so furiously that the Official Mr Gum Fury-O-Meter strapped to his chin went all the way up to 1000 and then exploded in a spray of glass and mercury. ‘They be MEDDLERS! Always gettin’ in the way of me business!’

‘Well, you hasn’t gots no business doin’ that sorts of business,’ said Polly. ‘It’s a nasty business, an’ it’s our business to stop it. You’re all under arrests for so many reasons I can’t even be bothered to count them all, you flibs!’

‘Exactly,’ said Friday, taking out his notebook. ‘Now, tell us your names so we can send you to the prisons where you truly belong.’

‘Me name’s Little Carlos,’ pleaded Mr Gum, dropping to his knees and clutching pitifully at Friday’s ankle. ‘I am only a poor shepherd boy from Portugal and I ain’t got no idea what’s goin’ on. Please don’t arrest me – for then who will look after me faithful sheep, Splinters?’

‘That’s me,’ said Billy William the Third, dropping to all fours and nibbling at Friday’s other ankle. ‘Baaa! I’m Splinters the sheep. Baaaa!

Baaaaa! Hello.’

‘Oh, dear,’ said Friday in confusion. ‘I think we’ve arrested the wrong people, Mr Polly.’

‘Frides, they’re not no innocent shepherds an’ sheep, they’re lyin’!’ said Polly. But in all the confusion, no one noticed that big beefy whaler of a sailor, Brendan Jawsnapper. He had one more barrel left, the biggest of the lot. And now he was creeping along the deck of the
Sirloin
. His tattooed muscles rippled as he hoisted that barrel over his head … And then …

SPLARSHINGTON!

A slew of pig intestines, horse livers and albatross hearts rained down on the heroes.

‘URGH!’ said Polly.

‘URGH!’ said Friday.

Everyone waited, in case Surprising Ben was about to pop up and say ‘URGH!’ as well. But he didn’t. You see, that was actually the most surprising thing about Surprising Ben – just when you expected him to surprise you he surprised you by not surprising you at all.

‘Yaar-har-har!’ laughed Captain Brazil, who had recently been listening to a CD called
Teach Yourself to Laugh Like a Pirate in Ten Easy Lessons.
‘Get ’em, mateys! We’ll take ’em prisoner an’ steam off to China an’ sell ’em to the circus, yaar-har-har!’

‘Oh, no!’ said Friday, as the crew of the
Sirloin
came smashing down the gangway to get them. ‘Whatever’s going to become of us?’

‘He jus’ said,’ replied Polly, as she was hoisted off her feet. ‘He’s gonna take us prisoner an’ steam off to China an’ sell us to the circus.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Friday, who was dangling over Starbuck’s shoulder. ‘I couldn’t hear. I had some sheep’s lungs in my ear.’

‘HA HA! So much for THE DEPARTMENT OF CLOUDS AN’ YOGURTS!’ laughed Mr Gum, as he watched the heroes being bundled aboard. ‘Looks like we’re free to do our evils after all!’

‘Yeah!’ said Billy William the Third.

And the last thing Polly saw as the boat pulled away was Mr Gum and Billy tap-dancing on the barrels of meat, singing ‘The Ten Rules of Evil’ and slapping their thighs with bits of bone and gristle.

Captain Brazil stood on deck, looking down with contempt on the prisoners as they struggled in the sailors’ brawny arms. Then he realised he wasn’t tall enough to look down with contempt on the prisoners as they struggled in the sailors’ brawny arms, so he stood on a little stool and looked down with contempt on the prisoners as they struggled in the sailors’ brawny arms.

‘Throw ’em in the brig!’ he exclaimed.

‘NO!’ protested Friday. ‘Not the brig! Anything but the brig! Please, I beg you – not the brig! If you’ve an ounce of mercy in you, please – do not throw us in the brig! Also, what is a “brig”, by the way?’

‘It be the ship’s prison, where the rats’ll pick at yer toenails to get at the tasty cheese, an’ the weevils’ll make their homes in yer nostrils,’ said Captain Brazil.

And even as he spoke, Brendan Jawsnapper threw open a heavy iron door and tossed the heroes inside as easily as if they were a couple of bags of flour.

KLANK!
went the door.

CLICK!
went the lock.

‘OH, THE CAMPTOWN LADIES SING THIS SONG, DOO DAH! DOO DAH!’
went the ringtone on Captain Brazil’s mobile phone.

And they were prisoners!

A
nd now began an ordeal so awful that Friday and Polly would remember it for the rest of their lives, apart from Friday, who instantly forgot it as soon as it was over. For hour upon hour the two friends sat in the cold damp gloom of the brig, with only a thin crack of light coming from under the door by which to see.

From time to time a small metal hatch would open and a sailor would throw in some food. It was always but a single crumb of bread, except for one time when the hatch opened and in came eight roast chickens, gravy, garden peas, buttered parsnips, a choice of side salad or spicy Cajun potato wedges and a ‘Smiley Meal’ plastic toy.

‘Oops,’ said the sailor from the other side of the hatch. ‘I accidentally threw the prisoners our supper instead.’

But apart from this stroke of good fortune, it was a miserable time. The two friends hardly talked, but sat in silence, Polly wondering what was to become of her beloved hometown of Lamonic Bibber, and Friday thinking of new flavours for yogurts. Slowly, slowly the night passed as the
Sirloin
chugged its way upriver, heading for the open sea and then China. The engine thrummed and the big wheel on the side of the boat turned and splashed, turned and splashed, turned and splashed again.

Captain Brazil’s cabin must have been directly above the brig, for sometimes Polly could hear him stamping around and moaning, ‘Oh, Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Come back to me, Elizabeth!’ And then it seemed she could hear him weeping, and soon after – ‘More rum! Starbuck! Bring me more rum!’ Then all would be silent for a while until the stamping began once more, and the moaning. ‘Oh, Elizabeth! Elizabeth! How I love thee, sweet Elizabeth!’

And so the long night passed, in wails and moans and splashes and groans and sighs. Did Polly fall asleep? She did not know, for in that near-darkness, what was real and what was not became blurred and mixed together, like when you’re on a ’plane with your mum and dad and you pour all the pepper and salt and little pots of milk and things into your orange juice in that plastic cup they give you and you even put in that little face-wipe that smells of lemons, and then you stir it around and it looks like puke and then you dare your sister to drink it and then your mum says, ‘Stop that, act your age!’ and then the stewardess comes round to collect everyone’s stuff and your mum hands her your disgusting cup and says, ‘Sorry about my children, they’re very immature.’

Yes, in that near-darkness, what was real and what was not became blurred and mixed together. So did Polly fall asleep? She thought she did. For surely it must have been a dream, the way she felt. As if every part of her body was as light as a cloud, as light as a fluffy little cloud … And then suddenly, standing before her, she seemed to see a boy whose honest face she knew well.

‘Hello, child,’ said the boy, though he was no older than she. ‘I like your suit and tie. But tell me – what are they feeding you in this place?’

‘Mostly jus’ some crumbs,’ exclaimed Polly glumly.

‘I see,’ said the lad. ‘And do they not feed you Ship’s Biscuit?’

‘No,’ said Polly. ‘We never gets no Ship’s Biscuit.’

‘Well,’ laughed the boy kindly. ‘Perhaps you don’t need any. Perhaps you already have all the biscuit you need.’