The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists!

sinister plot to rewrite history: it's simply

that certain things are better suited to the page than to the inside of a spinning metal drum. For example, it may be that the villain in said motion picture is Queen Victoria, rather than the diabol­ical Bishop of Oxford. This is possibly because she is a funnier shape to look at, like a dumpy little toilet roll holder. And perhaps the motion picture contains an entire plot to do with me owning a dodo, which is obviously a ridiculous and unlikely flight of fancy. Though I would very much like to own a dodo instead of our idiot parrot Gary, who is, frankly, a nuisance.

But rest assured that in both zoetrope display and book, my beard is still luxuriant, Black Bellamy is still a fiend with eyes of the darkest pitch, and there's still a good bit where a chimpanzee gets dressed up in a waistcoat. And, most importantly, at no point does anybody mistakenly think it's somehow inherently funny to 'talk like a pirate'.

Until our next adventure, Hugs,

The Pirate Captain, 1838

One

INTO ACTION UNDER THE PIRATE FLAG!

T

he best bit about being a pirate,' said the pirate with gout, 'is the looting.' 'That's rubbish!' said the albino pirate. 'It's the doubloons. Doubloons are easily the best bit about pirating.'

The rest of the pirates, sunning themselves on the deck of the pirate boat, soon joined in. It had been several weeks since the Pirates' Adven­ture with Cowboys, and they had a lot of time on their hands.

'It's the pirate grog!'

'Marooning! That's what I like best!'

'Cutlasses!'

'The Spanish Main!'

'The ship's biscuits!'

One of the pirates pulled a special face to show exactly what he thought of this last comment, and soon all the pirates were fight­ing. With a sound like a bat hitting a watermelon, pirate fist connected with pirate jaw and a gold

tooth bounced across the deck. The pirate with gout found himself run through in a grisly manner, and one of the cabin boys accidentally got a shiny pirate hook in the side of the head. It would probably have gone on for hours in this fashion, but both of the heavy wooden doors that led to the downstairs of the boat crashed open, and out onto the deck strode the Pirate Captain himself.

The Pirate Captain cut an impressive figure. If you were to compare him to a type of tree - and working out what sort of tree they would be if they were trees instead of pirates was easily one of the crew's favourite pastimes - he would undoubtedly be an oak, or maybe a horse chestnut. He was all teeth and curls, but with a pleasant open face; his coat was of a better cut than everybody else's, and his beard was fantastic and glossy, and the ends of it were twisted with expensive-looking ribbons. Living at sea tended to leave you with ratty, matted hair, but the Pirate Captain somehow kept his beard silky and in good condition, and though nobody knew his secret, they all respected him for it. They also respected him because it was said he

was wedded to the sea. A lot of pirates claimed that they were wedded to the sea, but usually this was an excuse because they couldn't get a girlfriend or they were a gay pirate, but in the Pirate Captain's case none of his crew doubted he was actually wedded to the sea for a minute. Any of his men would have gladly taken a bullet for him, or even the pointy end of a cutlass. The Pirate Captain didn't need to do much more than clear his throat and roll his eyes a bit to stop the fighting dead in its tracks.

'What's going on, you scurvy knaves!' he bellowed. Pirates were often rude to each other, but without really meaning it, so none of the brawling pirates took being called a 'scurvy knave' too much to heart.

'We were just discussing what the best bit about being a pirate is,' answered the pirate dressed in green, after a bit of an awkward pause.

'The best bit about being a pirate?'

'Yes sir. We couldn't quite decide. I mean, it's all good

'The best bit about being a pirate is the shanties.'

And, with the argument settled, the Pirate Captain strode back into the galley, indicating for the pirate with a scarf to follow. The rest of the crew were left on their own.

'He's right. It's the shanties,' said the albino pirate thoughtfully. One of the other pirates nodded.

'They are really good. Shall we sing a pirate shanty?'

The Pirate Captain was secretly relieved when he heard the strains of a rowdy shanty coming through the roof of the galley. Just recently he had been worrying about discipline on board the pirate boat, and there was an old pirate motto: if the men are singing a shanty then they can't be up to mischief.[1]

'Come into my office for a moment,' he told the pirate with a scarf, who was his trusty second in

command. The Pirate Captain's office was full of mementoes from the previous pirate adventures. There was a ten-gallon hat from the Pirates' Adventure with the Cowboys, and some old bits of tentacle from the Pirates' Adventure with Squid, as well as several Post-It notes reminding the Pirate Captain to say things like 'Splice the mainsail!' or 'Hard about, lads!'. On the walls there hung several fantastic paintings of the Pirate Captain himself - one of them showed him look­ing anguished and cradling a dead swan: this painting was tided WHY? Another was of the Pirate Captain reclining naked except for a small piece of gauze. And a third pictured the Pirate Captain sharing a strange futuristic-looking drink with a lady who seemed to be made from metal. There were also quite a lot of nautical maps and charts about the place, and even an astrolabe. The Pirate Captain wasn't 100 per cent sure what the astrolabe did, or whether it was actually an astro­labe rather than a sextant, but he enjoyed fiddling with it when he got bored nonetheless. Right at the moment boredom was an issue that weighed heavily on the Pirate Captain's mind.

'Care for some grog?' he asked politely. The scarf-wearing pirate wasn't very thirsty, but he said yes anyway, because if you start turning down grog when you're a pirate it doesn't help your reputation much.

'Ship's biscuits? I've got ship's custard creams, and ship's bourbons,' said the Pirate Captain. He held out a tin that had a boat painted on it and the pirate with a scarf took a bourbon, because he knew custard creams were the Pirate Captain's favourites.

'What do you think all that brawling was about, number two?' asked the Pirate Captain, absent-mindedly seeing how fast he could spin the astrolabe using just one finger.

'Like the men said... it was just a friendly discussion that got a bit out of hand,' replied the scarf-wearing pirate, not entirely sure where the Pirate Captain was going with this, but amazed as always that he could carry on a conversation whilst doing complex calculations with an astro­labe. That sort of thing was why the Pirate Captain was the Pirate Captain, the pirate with a scarf reflected.

'I'll tell you what it was about,' said the Pirate Captain. 'It was about bored pirates! I've made a mistake. We've been moored here in... in the...' The Pirate Captain rubbed his nose, which he liked to think of as a stentorian nose, even though stentorian is actually a tone of voice, and squinted at one of the charts.

'The West Indies, sir,' said the scarf-wearing pirate, helpfully.

'Mmmm. Well, we've been here too long. I thought that after our exciting adventure with those cowboys, we could all do with a break, but I guess us pirates are only really happy when we're pirating.'

'I think you're right, sir,' the scarf-wearing pirate said. 'It's nice enough here, but I keep on finding sand in my grog, from all that lying about on the beach. And those native women, wander­ing about with no tops on ... it's a bit much.'