The Pirates! in an Adventure with the Romantics (21 page)

‘Hmmm. I can see your dilemma,’ said Babbage, who was starting to enjoy this, because he thought maybe the situation could be modelled with game theory.

‘You know, I often encounter a similar problem. Perhaps I can help?’ said the Captain, holding up his free hand. ‘When I wake up in the morning, I face a tricky conundrum: do I have my egg poached or boiled? You know where you are with a poached egg. It’s all there in front of you, perhaps a little showy and patronising at times, but dependable. Sits nicely on the toast. It’s not going to run off with a cocktail waitress, is it?’

Everyone agreed that poached eggs were a valid breakfast choice.

‘But sometimes I like to walk on the wild side. I want my morning egg to give me a little rush of adrenalin. That’s when I go for boiled. The thing about boiled eggs, Mary, is that you never know what’s inside. Was it done properly? Will the yolk run or is it solid? Maybe there’s a little dead chick in it? Who can say? Only the boiled egg has that element of danger. It’s into you, but it would be the first to admit that it’s not very consistent or good at commitment. Sure, we both know that egg will be a rollercoaster ride of an egg, but think of the
adventures
.’

The Pirate Captain summoned up another dashing grin.

‘In case you missed that subtext, I’ll also chuck in a free pair of pirate trousers and you can have number two’s telescope.’

Even at the best of times Percy’s posture wasn’t exactly brilliant, but now he sagged like a limp daffodil. He let go of ‘On Feelings’ and buried his face in his hands.

‘Oh, what’s the point? I can’t compete with that.’ He sniffed, wiped his eyes, and managed a rueful smile. ‘To be honest, it’s almost a relief.’

‘A relief?’ said Mary, looking puzzled.

‘I’m not an
idiot
. I know full well that someone like me couldn’t hang on to a girl like you. I mean, I do my best. I spout all this flouncy nonsense to try to keep you impressed, but deep down, I knew it would never be enough.’

‘Hang on,’ said Mary. ‘What do you mean, “flouncy nonsense to keep me impressed”?’

‘The sensitive brow business. Constantly banging on about Orpheus. Good grief, do you have any idea how
irritating
it is to hear yourself using expressions like “youth’s starlight smile” all the time?’

‘Oh
Percy
. What made you think I was into that kind of thing?’

Percy shrugged. ‘I just thought it was what you girls liked. Though now I realise that it seems I should have been more like the Captain here. This is a man that’s true to himself. He must be, because I don’t think anybody would act like that by choice. Go with him, Mary. I hope you’ll be very happy with each other.’

And with that, Shelley began to blubber uncontrollably.

‘Well now,’ said the Captain. ‘That’s worked out well, hasn’t it? The best pirate won and all that.’ He gave Shelley a pat on the head and clambered to his feet. ‘So – now to see what old Plato had up his sleeve, hmmm?’

The Captain licked a briny finger and started to turn the first page of ‘On Feelings’, but Mary grabbed his wrist and looked deep into his eyes.

‘Captain, I implore you. This godforsaken book is too dangerous. Look at what it’s turned us all into! Monsters! Not the good kind of monsters with webbed feet and vestigial tails, but the awful metaphorical kind of monsters, which are much worse and much more dull. Please, Captain, there are some secrets we’re simply not meant to know.’

‘But we’ve had an entire adventure just trying to find it. Seems pretty ridiculous to stop at this point.’

‘If you have any real feelings for me, Captain,’ said Mary earnestly, ‘you’ll destroy this book once and for all.’

The Captain paused. He looked at Mary’s nice hair, then he looked at ‘On Feelings’ sitting on his lap, then he looked at Shelley, then he looked at Byron, then he looked at Jennifer, then he looked at the pirates, then he looked away because the albino pirate was chewing with his mouth open. And then he felt something that had only troubled him two times before, one of which he had mistaken for indigestion. He had a moral dilemma.

The Captain set his jaw, and strode back into the study. The others rushed after him. They found him paused by the fireplace. A long moment ticked by. And then he threw the sheaf of paper straight into the flames.

‘What on earth have you done?’ said Byron, covering his eyes in dismay.

‘Oh, Captain! Thank you!’ said Mary, running over and giving him a hug.

The Pirate Captain gazed at where the horizon would have been if there’d been a horizon in the study, and looked as noble as you can look when you have a polar bear’s head stuck over your own head. ‘Sometimes,’ he said, ‘a pirate must weigh the responsibility of his actions. He must put aside his own desires and see the bigger picture. He must reach deep inside, and become a better man. Oh, I was tempted. To learn those secrets! To be a god amongst men! To banish irritating will-they-won’t-they situations for ever! But I have performed this selfless act for you, Mary, and for the good of civilisation itself.’

He finished and everybody clapped. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room, apart from the eyes on paintings. Even Babbage dabbed a tear from his cheek.

Then the Pirate Captain did a bow. It would have gone down in history as one of the Captain’s better speeches right up until the bow, but at that point ‘On Feelings’ dropped out from under his coat and plopped onto the carpet, slightly undermining the whole effect.

‘Arrr,’ said the Captain, looking down at it awkwardly. ‘How did that get there?’

‘Pirate Captain!’ exclaimed Mary.

‘Now, hang on a tick.’ The Captain started to back away. ‘I realise this must
look
a lot like I did the old switcheroo move again, and that I must have just now swapped “On Feelings” for the copy of your novel that you’d left sitting on the table, which I then burnt in its place, but actually this can be explained. By yet more ghosts. Or some other, much less implausible excuse than that.’

Mary slapped him very hard on his muzzle. Babbage and Byron both eyed the bundle of paper on the floor and subtly started to edge towards it.

‘Oh for pity’s sake,’ said Jennifer. She marched across the room, picked up ‘On Feelings’ and threw it into the fireplace. ‘Good riddance!’

Everybody gasped again, but not very hard because they were getting quite tired now. The Pirate Captain hefted another great sigh, watched the pages crackle and curl into a black ash, and not for the first time wished he had actually been a sexy fireman.

Nineteen

The Abhorrent Albatross

The pirate boat bobbed about in the sparkling Neopolitan bay as everybody gathered on deck to say their goodbyes. They’d spent most of their journey back from Romania retelling their adventure to each other over various feasts. Byron’s account of events had gradually grown more and more fanciful, until by the time they reached the shores of Italy he was convinced he actually had turned out to be a vampire after all, and nobody really liked to correct him. Mary and Shelley had passed the time having long conversations about things that genuinely interested them. Babbage was travel sick. And the pirate crew had clanked happily about in some of the suits of armour that they’d stolen from the castle.

‘Is that the lot?’ the Captain asked, as he helped lug the last of the poets’ suitcases down the gangplank.

‘I believe so,’ said Shelley, awkwardly extending his hand. He squinted in the sunlight. ‘So. No hard feelings? When I started this adventure I must confess to not really trusting you piratical sorts, but it seems to me now that you’re all right.
³⁹
And
I
can
hardly
blame
you
for
fancying
Mary
.
Only
a
fool
wouldn’t
fancy her.’

The Captain grinned. ‘Yes, no hard feelings, Percy. I’m not the kind to bear a grudge. Mostly because I’ll have forgotten this whole adventure by next week.’ He tapped his head. ‘The long-term memory is pretty shot, you see. It’s from drinking too much seawater.’ He took Shelley’s hand and gave it a friendly shake. Then the Captain turned to where Byron, now sporting some glued-on fangs and a thick velvet cloak despite the balmy weather, was giving Jennifer a hearty embrace.

‘Byron, it’s been a real pleasure.’

‘Likewise!’ boomed Byron.

‘Anything exciting planned next?’

‘I thought Jennifer and I could go and have a series of spin-off adventures where we solve occult crimes in far-flung locales. But, alas, she has turned me down.’

‘Sorry, Byron,’ said Jennifer. ‘It’s tempting, and you really do have lovely cheekbones, but I can’t give up being a pirate. It’s just the sort of girl I am.’

‘So what
will
you do, Mister Byron?’ asked the pirate with a scarf.

Byron tapped his nose. ‘Well, my fall-back plan is to sleep with women in a variety of specific locations across Europe, so that if you plot them on a map it spells out BYRON . . .’

‘That’s quite—’

‘Wait, I haven’t finished: so it spells out BYRON HAS SLEPT WITH WOMEN IN ALL THESE PLACES. Then I might go off and find a war to fight in.’

‘And how about you, Babbage?’ asked the Captain.

Babbage was back to looking like the happier kind of owl. ‘This adventure has finally convinced me that the heart is too unknowable for mathematical quantification, Captain. However, with Byron’s help I have formulated a new purpose for my machine.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘You see, through the attachment of a simple mechanical arm, some chalk and a blackboard, I believe it will be possible for my difference engine to draw pictures of ladies in a state of near undress, in homes across the land. Indeed, I now foresee this as being the primary use for my invention for centuries to come.’

The Captain shook his hand as well. ‘Well, good luck with that. It sounds like a very admirable goal.’

Mary was the last to head down the gangplank. She and the Captain hovered for a moment, both trying to think what to say.

‘So you’ve definitely chosen Shelley then?’ said the Captain eventually, puffing out his cheeks. ‘Not too late to change your mind. Swap your pencil for a cutlass. I’d let you play with the astrolabe. It’s surprisingly fun.’

‘I’m sorry, Pirate Captain – my mind’s made up. Now Percy’s dropped the pretentious act, I can talk to him about monsters and he can talk to me about things besides poetry.’ Mary gently took his hand. ‘You’re lovely, but . . . well, you’re just not great boyfriend material. The fact is, you have absolutely no self-control whatsoever.’

‘Fair point,’ agreed the Captain. ‘Between you and me I’m no good at sharing either. Comes from growing up with a lot of brothers. Or being an only child. I can’t remember which. Anyhow, sorry about the business with the book, and burning your novel. In retrospect that seems quite rude.’

Mary smiled. ‘Don’t worry. As it happens Percy has encouraged me to start a brand-new one. It’s quite high concept.’

‘Ooh. What’s it about?’

‘There’s this sinister Doctor Frankenstein and he makes a monster out of people bits.’

‘Sounds good,’ the Captain said, nodding approvingly. ‘A “Frankenstein” is a
great
name for a monster.’

‘No, Captain, you’re not really listening again, the—’

‘The Frankenstein Who Walks Like a Man Because of His Man Legs! GRAAA! I’m a Frankenstein!’ The Captain mimed being a monster made out of people bits.

‘Frankenstein smash!’

‘Goodbye, Captain.’ Mary gave him a kiss on his hairy cheek. Then she turned and, without looking back, walked down onto the dockside.

Later that night, as the boat sailed through the calm Tyrrhenian Sea, the pirate with a scarf found the Captain sitting on the shoulder of the figurehead, gazing up at the sky.

‘Hello, Captain.’

‘Hello, number two.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Aarrr. Yes. Fine.’