Adventure According to Humphrey (5 page)

“Great idea!” I agreed.

When I squeaked, Gail giggled. That was a wonderful sound.

“Let’s do it,” she said.

 

 

I was feeling pretty proud of myself. Gail and her mom both seemed happy. And that made me feel HAPPY-HAPPY-HAPPY, too.

Late that evening, after Heidi had left, I rolled through the kitchen in my hamster ball while Gail and her dad made popcorn, which smelled unsqueakably delicious.

The telephone rang in the next room, and I heard Gail’s mom answer it. “Mrs. Brisbane!” she said. “So nice to hear from you!”

I rolled toward the living room to hear what Mrs. Morgenstern was saying.

“Sensational,” she said. “Fabulous! I love it!”

Then she listened some more and said, “Yes. Yes. Of course!” She didn’t say anything else except, “Okay, good-bye.”

Once she was off the phone, I rolled back to the kitchen alongside Gail’s mom.

“What did Mrs. Brisbane want?” asked Gail.

“It’s a surprise,” said Mrs. Morgenstern. “A very nice surprise.”

No matter how much Gail and I protested, she wouldn’t say any more.

As you can imagine, I was anxious to get back to Room 26 on Monday morning to see just what the nice surprise would be!

 

“Og, I thought I was going to be orange and purple when I came back today, but I’m glad that I’m still golden. It’s a very good color for a hamster,” I told Og when I arrived back on Monday morning.

“BOING!” he answered. “BOING-BOING!”

“Of course, green is the best color for a frog,” I quickly added. I didn’t want to hurt my friend’s feelings.

He hopped up and down in his tank, twanging away. “BOING-BOING-BOING!”

“Hold it down over there,” Mrs. Brisbane told us. “We’ve got to start building our boats for the contest.” She turned to the class. “I hope you all spent some time thinking about what kind of boats you’d like to make.”

My friends all started talking at once, which is not something Mrs. Brisbane likes to hear.

“Silence!” she said in a firm voice. “Now, I need to know which students are pairing up so I can make a list. Then I’m going to give you some time to get together and plan your boat.”

There was a lot of hubbub, but it wasn’t long before the students were sitting in pairs, jabbering away and looking at pictures.

When I was sure no one was looking, I slid my notebook out from my hiding place behind my mirror. I took it into my sleeping hut and stared at my boat drawing. Yep, the SS
Golden Hamster
was the boat for me! Of course, it was only a dream because I didn’t have a partner, much less the materials to build a boat. Not only that, my friends kept going to the library to learn more about boats, but I wasn’t invited back. (I wonder if Mrs. Wright had something to do with that.)

Once, my friends were in the library a LONG-LONG-LONG time, and when they came back, they were all talking about some fellow named Long John Silver. I could picture someone named John who was very tall, but I’d never seen a silver human—or hamster, for that matter. Oh, and Lower-Your-Voice-A.J. kept shouting out, “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!” in a screechy voice. And everyone else would giggle as if he’d said the funniest thing.

I wonder if I’ll ever understand humans.

M
y classmates weren’t the only humans acting strangely. One night, instead of saying his usual, “Never fear ’cause Aldo’s here,” our custodian threw open the door and shouted, “Ahoy there, me hearties!”

I peeked out of my sleeping hut, half expecting to see a real pirate with a patch over his eye and a sack full of doubloons (though I wasn’t quite sure what those were). Instead, I saw my old pal, Aldo, staring into my cage.

“Are ye in there, matey?” he asked.

“YES-YES-YES, and you certainly fooled me,” I squeaked.

When he threw back his head and laughed, his mustache shook so hard, I thought it might fall off. Luckily, Aldo’s mustache is
firmly
attached. “Ye be all right, Jack,” he replied, even though he knows perfectly well my name is Humphrey. “I be here to swab the decks. And don’t ye be worrying. I’m not a real pirate,” he said. “
Not yet,
anyway,” he added with a wink.

That comment got my whiskers wiggling, I can tell you! Did he mean he might become a pirate someday?

He didn’t explain what he meant, just whistled a merry tune I’d never heard before. After he cleaned the floor and emptied the wastebaskets, he stood in front of my cage and said, “Check this out.”

He danced a very happy, bouncy kind of dance as he whistled his tune. When he was finished, he bowed and said, “That’s a hornpipe dance. It’s named after a musical instrument sailors play. What do you think, Humphrey?”

I was happy he remembered my name again and even happier to be able to squeak the truth. “It was GREAT-GREAT-GREAT!”

“Thanks, matey. Gotta set sail now.” With that, he pushed his cleaning cart out of Room 26.

It was very quiet once he was gone. So quiet that I couldn’t help remembering the thing he’d said about not being a pirate
yet
. Since Aldo was one of the nicest people I’d ever met, it was hard to think of him as a person who would steal people’s treasure, which is what real pirates do. Still, with his fine mustache and excellent hornpipe dancing, I could almost believe he was a pirate.

I couldn’t sleep a wink that night, not just because I’m nocturnal, but also because of all the strange goings-on.

“Og, if I could go to the library, maybe I’d understand what everyone is talking about,” I told my neighbor.

Og floated in the water side of his tank as if he didn’t have a care in the world. I flung open the door to my cage and came a little closer.

“Wouldn’t
you
like to know what’s going on?” I squeaked loudly, just in case he hadn’t heard me before.

He didn’t answer at all. He just floated around. Maybe he was sleeping, but who can tell with a frog?

“I was thinking, maybe I should go down there and check things out,” I said, raising my voice even more.

Still nothing from Og.

Since I was already out of my cage, I decided to have a little adventure. Aldo would have gone home by now, so the coast would be clear. I slid down the leg of the table and scurried across the floor. The door was closed, sure, but I was able to squeeze under the bottom. After all, I’d done this before!

The hallways of Longfellow School are always a little eerie at night. There are low lights on, and the street-lights shine through some of the windows. But it’s odd to be in a school with no children, no teachers and no principal.

It doesn’t feel quite right.

I hurried to the library, squeezed under that door—oops, a little tight—and there was that marvelous room filled with books. At first, it was SCARY-SCARY-SCARY because the fish tank had its lights blazing, so it glowed in a way that was pretty, but kind of ghostly. The colorful fish swam around in the bright blue water, and luckily, they didn’t look scary at all.

It was cool in the library (maybe Mrs. Wright was right about the temperature being off). I walked up the big aisle between the shelves and the tables and stared up at the tank.

The sunken ship was still there, and I have to admit, it fascinated me. Whose ship was it? A tiny pirate? A hamsterish fish? Or some creature of the deep I’d never heard of? I crept a little closer to get a better look. There was a series of shelves next to the desk. I found that if I reached up and pulled hard with all my might, I could raise myself from shelf to shelf until I reached the top of the desk.

The light blazing from the fish tank blinded me for a second, and as I stumbled across the desktop, I stepped on something hard and lumpy.

Like magic, a big screen in the front of the room lit up. I scrambled over the bumpy object and—whoa—pictures came up on the screen and music blared. I looked down and realized that I had been standing on a remote control with all kinds of buttons, one of which had turned on a television. But I forgot all about the remote when exciting music began to play. I looked up at the TV screen, and what I saw up there amazed me.

The words on the screen spelled out
Treasure Island.
(I am so glad I learned to read!) There was the sea and a ship and a boy named Jim Hawkins. Before I knew it, I was watching an amazing adventure starring a pirate known as Long John Silver.

Oh, and there was a parrot that squawked, “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!” even louder than A.J. had. The bird had a sharp, pointy beak that I would NEVER-NEVER-NEVER want to come into contact with. And there were great big waves rolling up and down, up and down. As I settled down to watch, I accidentally hit another button and the movie started all over again. The words, the music, the parrot. And those waves rolling up and down, up and down until my tummy felt funny.

This time, I didn’t wiggle a whisker. I sat quietly and watched the whole movie from beginning to end.

It was one of the best nights I could remember, at least at Longfellow School.

When it was over, I carefully tapped the remote control until the picture went off. Then I dashed back to Room 26, grabbed the cord for the blinds that hangs down next to my table and swung myself back up like I was swinging my way up to the crow’s nest of a ship.

A crow’s nest is a lookout on the top sail of a ship. I learned that watching
Treasure Island
.

Soon, I was back in my cage, safe and secure.

“Ahoy, Og! Would you like to hear about
Treasure Island
?” I asked my friend.

“BOING-BOING!” he answered.

I took that to be a very big “yes.”

 

It took me most of the night to tell Og the whole story of the movie I’d seen. If I do say so myself, I did a great job, especially when I screeched, “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”

Whenever I did that, Og responded with an enthusiastic, “BOING-BOING!”

The next morning, once class was under way again, I was dozing away, dreaming about a desert island.

This wasn’t just any desert island, because in addition to the swaying palms and the ocean breezes, Ms. Mac was there with me. Oh, and we had such fun, eating dates and nuts and playing in the sand (which I must admit, I like better than water).

In my dream, I heard roaring waves, screeching seagulls, the singing of an ocean breeze. Then there was the sound of Mrs. Brisbane. Maybe I wasn’t dreaming anymore. I poked my head out of my sleeping hut.

“Class, I have a big surprise for you,” Mrs. Brisbane announced. “I’ve brought in some helpers to advise you about your boats.”

“Whoo-hoo!” A.J. hooted loudly. Garth joined him.

Mrs. Brisbane went to the door, and when she opened it, in came her husband, Bert, and—surprise—Gail’s mom!

“Remember, there’s a prize for Most Beautiful Boat and a prize for Most Seaworthy,” said our teacher. “Mr. Brisbane can advise you on building your boats, and Mrs. Morgenstern is an artist who can help you make them look good.”

That news created quite a stir in class. Personally, if I were sailing, I’d want a solid, seaworthy boat. But I also liked the idea of a good-looking craft. Having these two helpers was just the kind of idea a very clever hamster might have come up with!

All of my classmates were buzzing with excitement, except for Gail, who stared down at her desk. I was puzzled. Wasn’t she glad her mom was there? I decided to think about it for a while, but I guess I dozed off.

The next time I woke up, Mr. Brisbane was talking. “A boat that floats is a success,” he said. “A boat that sinks is not.”

I nodded in agreement and then drifted back to sleep. I was awakened again by the sound of Mrs. Morgenstern’s voice. “A thing of beauty is a joy forever,” she said. “Your job is to make your boat a joyful reflection of who you are!”

Suddenly, I was wide awake. The SS
Golden Hamster
was definitely a joyful reflection of who I was. But would a boat like that actually float?

My friends were already busy drawing and discussing their boats. If only I had a partner to help me build my boat! I stuck my head outside the hut.

“Og, would you like to build a boat with me?” I asked.

“BOING!” he answered, followed by loud splashing.

I guess the idea of a boat is pretty silly to a creature that can swim like Og.

So I watched my fellow classmates make their plans. Mr. Brisbane provided each group with a light wooden hull (the body of the boat), which he had hollowed out because Mrs. Brisbane said it was too dangerous for her students to be carving with knives. He wheeled his chair from table to table, encouraging my friends about their ideas. Mr. Brisbane moves around in a wheelchair after an accident last year, but it hasn’t slowed him down one bit.