The Pirates! in an Adventure with the Romantics (20 page)

‘Still doesn’t explain bopping poor Jennifer on the head.’

‘The song! I mean, a child could have worked it out. The musical notes! Look at them.’ Babbage took the scrunched-up sheet of music from his pocket.

‘See? “C”, “A”, “B”, “B”, “A”, “G”, “E”, “F”, “A”, “C”, “E”. Cabbage Face!’

‘The portrait of the man with a face like a cabbage!’ exclaimed the pirate who liked to spell things out for those who were slow on the uptake.

‘Exactly! Plato’s missing treatise was obviously hidden behind the painting. I came down that first night to retrieve it after everybody had gone to bed. But no sooner had I got my hands on the accursed thing than I was interrupted! Somebody was coming! I was quite terrified, so I hid behind the door, and then, in a panic, I bopped them on the head. Obviously I felt terrible when I saw it was Jennifer. I would like to take the opportunity to apologise.’

‘That’s okay,’ said Jennifer. ‘No harm done.’

‘Well, I was in a fluster. I couldn’t think what to do. So I dragged her to the crypt and locked her in, intending to concoct some excuse and explain myself to the lady later. But when I returned to the library, the treatise – which I had rather foolishly left on the table in plain sight – had vanished! As, to my dismay, had Jennifer, when I went back to the crypt later that night.’

‘So you mean . . . somebody
else
made off with “On Feelings”?’

‘Yes, and I have a suspicion as to who. Because when I was returning to my room, I caught a glimpse of another person up that night, creeping along the hallway . . .’ Babbage took his turn to do his own bit of pointing. ‘It was Shelley! Shelley took the book!’

‘A-ha!’ said the Captain. ‘Just as I expected all along – the dracula is Percy!’

He threw some more holy tea at Shelley, who also failed to go on fire.

‘You’ve all got it quite wrong,’ said Shelley, glowering at his ruined shirt. ‘Yes, it’s true, I was up that night. But it wasn’t because of this confounded “On Feelings”. It was because of Mary. I am not so blind that I can’t see when a fellow is hitting on my fiancée. I had my misgivings from the start, which is why I slipped from the boat and followed you to the library in Oxford. Where, I’m afraid to say, whilst attempting to eavesdrop I rather clumsily managed to knock an entire bookcase over. Then, later in the tavern, I overheard the Captain and Jennifer talking about Mary’s manuscript.’ Shelley cast a reproachful eye towards Mary. ‘I didn’t even know you were writing a book! Anyway, I was worried about this subtext Jennifer claimed to have spied, so I waited until everybody had retired for the night and then crept into Mary’s room whilst she slept. I grabbed the manuscript from beside her and took it to my own room to see for myself.’

‘But . . . you can’t have done!’ said Mary.

‘I did. And what I found horrified me to my core. For a start, the subtext was all too apparent. You had chosen the Captain over me! But worse, so much worse, was just how bad a writer you are,’ Shelley shuddered. ‘I mean, really, really awful.’

‘No, but I mean, you
can’t
have taken my manuscript. I still have it. Look . . .’ Mary darted out of the room for a moment and then came back a minute later with her manuscript in her hand. She dropped it on the table. ‘See?’

Shelley looked baffled. He pulled another manuscript from his trousers. ‘Then what on earth is this?’

‘So let me get this straight,’ said the Captain, who was starting to get a bit of a headache. ‘Byron isn’t a dracula. Babbage isn’t a dracula. Percy isn’t a dracula. Who does that leave? Mary? It’s okay if you are, I’m sure we can find a way to make it work.’ He threw some more of the tea at her. ‘Sorry, that was a reflex.’

‘NOBODY IS A DRACULA!’ said Percy with a shriek. He sat down and took a few deep breaths to get his composure back. ‘I staged the seance to frame the Pirate Captain as a woman-murdering vampire because I thought that would put Mary off him. But I got in a muddle, because Byron was still wearing the Captain’s coat from the imbecilic monster conference, so I inadvertently planted the evidence in the wrong pockets.’

‘Well if it wasn’t you, who
did
take “On Feelings” after Babbage found it?’ asked Byron. For a moment nobody spoke. Then Mary sighed.

‘It was me,’ she said, wiping some tea off her face.

‘Why would you do such a thing?’ asked Shelley, his turn to be perplexed.

‘Because it sounds terrible! Romance shouldn’t be based on secrets and trickery! Good grief, you might as well go back to hitting us over the head with clubs. Relationships should be about delicate moments and the thrill of uncertainty. It’s only any fun if there’s a good chance the other person is going to hate you. That’s why I painted the warning on the side of the boat in Oxford, but of course nobody took a blind bit of notice.’

‘Was the taxidermy you too?’
³⁸

‘Yes. Well, not the whole thing, obviously. I just customised a pre-existing diorama that I found in one of the bedrooms.’

‘It was very good,’ said the Captain. ‘I like the way you used pipe cleaners for the nooses.’

‘Thank you. Where was I? Oh yes. So I crept downstairs to search for “On Feelings” while everyone slept. And there it was! Just sitting on the desk where Babbage must have left it. I didn’t care how the book got there, I just grabbed it and ran straight back to my room, intending to destroy it. Only before I had a chance, I saw a shadow outside my door! Well, I did the smart thing and pretended to be asleep. But whoever it was crept straight in and snatched “On Feelings” from the bed! And then, I think, replaced it with something else. What was especially odd was that a second later someone came in AGAIN, and took back whatever it was they’d put there in the first place.’

‘Well, I’m lost,’ said Byron.

‘Me too,’ said Babbage.

‘Yes, and me,’ said Percy.

‘I think I can explain,’ said the pirate with a scarf, looking a bit sheepish. ‘You see, the Captain here asked me to swap Mary’s novel for his own, somewhat more forthright version.’

‘What on earth for?’ asked Mary.

‘Subtext. Long story. It seemed to make sense at the time,’ said the Captain.

‘Anyhow,’ the pirate with a scarf continued. ‘Obviously what happened is that I must have picked up “On Feelings” thinking that it was Mary’s manuscript. Easy mistake to make. One lot of papery stuff held together with string looks a lot like the next lot of papery stuff held together with string. Then I left the Captain’s version in its place.’

‘So the manuscript I stole wasn’t Mary’s, it was the Captain’s!’ exclaimed Shelley, relieved. ‘Which of course explains why it was so terrible!’

The Captain scowled. ‘Yes, whatever.’ He turned to the pirate with a scarf. ‘So, here’s the million doubloon question, number two: what did you do with what you
thought
was Mary’s manuscript?’

The pirate with a scarf shrugged. ‘I hid it in the polar bear’s mouth.’

There was a pause.

The Pirate Captain looked at Mary.

Shelley looked at Mary.

The Pirate Captain and Shelley looked at each other.

And then they both leapt from their seats and raced out the door.

‘$*@£!£$ hellfire,’ said Mary.

Eighteen

Kissed by Rat Lips

Much has been written about Percy Bysshe Shelley. He is described as ‘consecrating the profound wisdom of poetry’ and ‘spontaneously and faithfully embodying the spirit of both intellectual and political revolution’. But nowhere is it said that he could run faster than a pirate captain trying to get to a stuffed polar bear’s head. As it happens, he
could
run slightly faster, but the Pirate Captain had a head start so they arrived at the top of the stairs at the same time.

Both of them plunged their arms elbow deep into the creature’s mouth, like a pair of reverse James Herriots. After rooting around for a few moments it was Shelley who finally pulled a sheaf of yellowing paper from the ursine maw.

‘Ha-ha!’ He let out a triumphant cry, but the Captain grabbed the other end of the bundle and gave it a sharp yank.

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ said the Captain. ‘But I think it’s probably better if I take this, for safe keeping. Stop it falling into the wrong hands.’

Percy grunted, tugged back and tried to pull the Captain’s beard off for good measure. ‘I must apologise too, but I think it’s better
I
keep hold of it, lest some unscrupulous hirsute character should try to use the contents for untoward purposes.’

The Captain trod on Shelley’s toe, which had the desired effect of making the poet yelp and let go of the manuscript. But before the Captain could pick it up, Shelley spun about, yanked at the polar bear head with as much strength as he could muster – about 30psi – and prised it from the wall. There was a popping noise as he plonked the bear’s head down on top of the Captain’s head as hard as he could.

‘Ooofff!’ said the Pirate Captain, momentarily blinded. He tripped, reached out to break his fall, and tumbled straight on top of his pale adversary. They wrestled about on the carpet. If they had been naked and if the Captain didn’t have a polar bear head stuck on his face it would have been just like the bit in
Women in Love
. Peering out from the bear’s mouth, the Pirate Captain managed to head-butt Shelley with his snout and grab the sheaf of papers back again. He clambered to his feet and started to run across the landing, but Shelley made a last desperate lunge for his ankles. The Pirate Captain lost his footing once more, and as he reached out to brace his fall, ‘On Feelings’ went looping off into the air. Shelley gasped and grabbed for it, but only succeeded in knocking the Captain sideways, sending both of them tumbling down the staircase. They landed in a sprawling heap at the bottom, just as the others emerged into the hall. ‘On Feelings’ fluttered down a few inches away. The two men dived on top of it.

‘Give it here, you nautical buffoon!’ said Shelley.

‘Go suck a barnacle,’ said the Captain.

Babbage scowled, and turned to Mary. ‘You know, young lady, you could probably save us all a lot of bother if you just
chose
one of them.’

The Captain and Percy paused their tug of war and looked up. Mary bit her lip.

‘But how?’ she said, sounding plaintive. ‘It’s an impossible choice!’ She slumped into a chair and rubbed her temple. ‘I don’t know what to do. There’s Percy, dear Percy, who really is incredibly smart and refined and has lovely slender hands . . .’

Percy waved the hand that wasn’t holding ‘On Feelings’. Everybody agreed that they were pretty nice, sort of delicate without being actual girl’s hands. Mary smiled at him. ‘He even seems to like me having opinions, which is pretty rare in an age when “being a woman with an opinion” is the best way to get banged up in an asylum. But then there’s the Pirate Captain. He’s more like a force of nature. Like . . . like being hit in the face by the Atlantic Ocean.’

‘See?’ said the Pirate Captain, shooting his crew a look. ‘Notice that she didn’t mention whelks? She had every opportunity.’

‘He’s invigorating and he likes monsters and his hands are rough and manly and sometimes
that’s
what a girl wants.’