“I got me a scurvy sea dog!” Alfie whisked the started sailor upside down and dangled him. To and fro’ the sailor swung, like a stripy pendulum.
“Chain me down, would you?” said Alfie, snarling at the up-ended sailor. “You feckless fish followers will rue the day!” With a powerful swish, Alfie sent the sailor spinning like a top. The rest of the crew were mesmerised, watching their shipmate whizzing in circles. He twizzled round so fast his features were a blur. Now running out of spin, the dizzy sailor keeled over like a skittle. He landed with a dull thud, his eyes still spinning crazily.
The spell was broken. The rest of the sailors ran for their lives – crashing into one another in their haste to escape from Alfie’s fury. One unfortunate fellow ran right onto Alfie’s foot. Realising his mistake the sailor gulped in fright as he rose slowly into the air. With a quick flip, Alfie sent him soaring skywards over the wall of a nearby inn.
A mighty crash came from the other side of the wall, raising a volley of shouts and the barking of dogs. This was followed in turn by an assortment of thumps, bangs and howls.
“Hmm,” said Alfie. Dragging his chains, he stomped to the wall. Peering over the top what a sight met his eyes – for the sailor he’d flipped was sprawled down the length of a table. The table had split in two sending tankards of beer, plates and bowls of food flying all over the villagers. The villagers, having consumed a great deal of rum, beer and food on that sunny afternoon were not pleased to find themselves sprawled on their backs covered in food and sticky beer.
“Oy, you! Me ale, you spilled me ale!” A bearded peasant tried desperately to scoop the dregs of beer from the table back into his tankard.
Several dogs of various sizes were jumping about, barking hysterically, nipping at the ankles and bottoms of the poor unfortunates stuck under the table.
“You’ve smashed my Toby jug.” Another man, with a rather battered cap, clutched the handle of his broken jug. “What good is it now?” Standing up, he tripped over a dog, promptly falling head long through the hole in the table.
“Pustulous pimple,” said a sturdy woman in an apron. “Look what you’ve done to my Jonas.” As she tried to pull her husband out of the hole by grasping his ankles, his boots flew off sending her backwards, flattening a skinny chap who’d just crawled out.
“Tee hee,” said Alfie, leaning on the wall. “Oooh – har-de-har.” An over-excited scruffy dog leapt in the air snatching the wig from the aproned woman’s head. Her shrieks and howls were brain-jangling, making Alfie cringe.
Shut, up, Betsy!” A hefty woman swiped Betsy so hard round the ear the wailing ceased. “I can’t ‘ear meself think wiv you makin’ all that racket.”
“Me wig,” shouted Betsy. “Jonas, quick get out of there and catch that mutt.” The dog was having a fine old time shaking the wig and snarling.
“’Ere, Betsy,” laughed the hefty woman. “Why don’t you try this one out for size?” She plonked a small fluffy dog on Betsy’s head. “There! That’ll keep your bonce warm.”
“Why you cheeky…” Biff, thud, crack, wham!
Alfie watched the fighting for a while then grew bored. Shaking off the rest of the chains he looked around. The sailors had all disappeared, leaving him standing quite alone on a small patch of grass behind the quay. Several fishing boats and a few grand sailing ships were moored in the harbour.
“Lovely ships,” said Alfie, heading for the harbour wall. Each time the tide dipped and swayed the ships seemed to dance on the waves.
“Ooh,” said Alfie, for there at the edge of the quay bobbed a beautiful galleon. Firmly anchored, roped to a wooden post, the ship’s pure white sails billowed enticingly in the salty breeze chasing round the harbour. A sudden gust of wind filled the sails, flapping them with a satisfying whup, whup sound. Alfie sighed. It was just what he needed – it was the perfect pirate ship.
“Mine,” said Alfie, taking a step forward, and before he knew what was happening he was rushing down the quay. As he drew closer to the ship, he could smell fresh varnish, polish and resin. It filled his nose and gladdened his heart. So keen was Alfie to untie the rope from the mooring post, he accidently uprooted the whole thing.
“Fiddlesticks,” said Alfie, hurling the post into the bay. The lapping waves caused the ship to drift a little. Taking no chances, Alfie took a run and bounded over the gap onto the ship’s deck. The gentle rocking of the waves swayed him, bending him like a reed in a riverbed. Alfie closed his eyes. “Lovely ship,” he said. The sound of a flapping sail made him open his eyes again.
The ship looked brand spanking new. All the wood was polished and gleaming – even the ropes were clean and fresh. The brass fittings shone like gold and the sails were so white, dazzling in the sunshine, they hurt his eyes. It was truly a most magnificent ship.
“My ship,” said Alfie. He walked to the deck-rail, grasping it firmly beneath his palms he peered seaward towards the distant horizon. “Arrrrr!” he said, smiling at the welcoming waves. “The seas await me with gold and plunder.”
A sudden yearning hit him like a blow. The horizon beckoned and for a moment, Alfie even thought he could see a giant hand waving at him, but realised it was just some shifting clouds skimming across the sky.
The ship’s wheel of golden walnut wood was warm to his touch. Giving it a quick wrench, Alfie waited, but nothing happened.
“Come on, shippy, ship,” he said. “Why won’t you go?” He tried again and spun the wheel. Still the ship just rocked gently and stayed in the bay. Alfie looked about and frowned.
“Yark,” said a seagull, landing on the deck-rail.
“The anchor!” said Alfie. “Of course.” He bounded away over the deck. Leaning over the side of the ship he gave the chain such a mighty tug the anchor flew from its mooring, landing in a muddy mess on the shining deck.
“Blast it,” said Alfie, frowning at the mud. “Ah well, can’t be helped, bit of dirt never hurt anyone.” Back he went to the wheel, and this time when he tweaked it, the ship began to move. Caught by the current, the ship drifted across the bay. Frantically, Alfie shoved the wheel one way then pulled it back again. The sails drooped, the ropes sagged, the ship lurched.
“Hoy, you!”
A group of men had clustered on the quay. Several of them got into a boat and began to row towards him. Alfie frowned and pulled hard on a dangling rope, and flagging sail tightened. He bounced up and down, giving a tweak here and there on ropes and rigging, back to the walnut wheel he raced and spun it so hard to starboard, the wind whipped the sails and amazingly the ship turned right. It began gliding smoothly out towards the open sea.
“I’m sailing! I’m sailing!” cried Alfie. The tang of salt on the quickening breeze dashed his breath away. Alfie’s ship sped over the waves, out of the reach of the people gathering at the harbour walls, away from the row-boats, outpacing the few other little sailing ships that set off after him. The wind was brisk, it soon took hold of Alfie’s ship sending it far and fast out to sea.
“I shall call her The Merry Mary,” Alfie announced to a seagull gliding overhead. Before banking away, the seagull let out a ringing cry setting its wings into the pull of the strong sea breeze. Alfie hung onto the wheel, tweaking it as the ship sailed on.
“Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum,
With a har-de-har here I come.
Hide your gold and run like fools,
Or Alfie Rains will steal your jewels.”
He spun the wheel to and fro, enjoying himself so much he didn’t notice the ship weaving crazily across the surface of the ocean, zigzagging first to port side and then to starboard as he tried hard to learn to steer left and right.
“Wheee!” said Alfie. “Ooh.” A sudden spout of water shot high into the air. “Whale ahoy!”
A fountain of droplets splattered upon the deck. Abandoning the wheel, Alfie raced to the side of the ship for a closer look. The whale was enormous. It fixed him with a large serious eye
and made a deep moaning sound. Alfie gulped when he realised his ship was turning towards the huge sea beast.
“Whoops, sorry, Mr Whale,” called Alfie. Running back to the wheel he heaved it the other way, altering the course of the ship.
“Phew, that was close.” He patted the wheel and tried to steer in a straight line. After a few miles the wind dropped, the ship slowed its passage and Alfie found himself with greater control of the wheel. Gripping the wooden spokes firmly, he turned the ship towards the sun.
“Groo,” said Alfie. “I do feel strange.” Sweat dripped into his eyes making it very hard to see straight. Fumbling in his pocket, Alfie whipped out a red spotted handkerchief. Taking his hands from the wheel to wipe his eyes, the ship lurched. Alfie was overcome by a rush of dizziness, swamping him until the world turned black as night.
*
He woke on the grass by the table surrounded by bobbing party hats. Alfie was so disappointed at having to leave his ship he got to his feet rather too hurriedly and was promptly sick all over Trixie.
“Oh Alfie!” cried his mother, pushing the shrieking Trixie out of the way. “You did give me such a fright fainting like that. You must never eat cheese again!”
Chapter Four
The Merry Mary
Alfie Rains was in the supermarket with his mother.
“Coo-eee, Lorraine.” The voice was high, wavery and awfully familiar.
“Why, its Mrs Winifred Pickles! Hello, Mrs Pickles,” said Alfie’s mother.
“Oh, no.” Alfie muttered under his breath. Kicking a shelf he put his hands in his pockets and began edging away.
“Oh, no you don’t, Alfie Rains,” said his mother, grabbing him by his shoulder. “How nice to see you, Mrs Pickles – say hello, Alfie.”
“Hello, Alfie.” Alfie grinned.
Mrs Winifred Pickles bent down and chuckled him under the chin with a gnarled, claw-like hand. Alfie froze, his gaze fixed on the hairy mole bobbing about on her chin.
“Oooh, Alfie.” The sound whistled through Mrs Winifred Pickles’ loosely fitting false teeth. “Aren’t you a big boy now? What lovely rosy cheeks you have. Ooh, give me a fork and I could eat you up!” Alfie backed into a shelf, his hands squashing down the packs of soft rolls behind him as he tried to winch himself to safety. But he didn’t move fast enough. Mrs Winifred Pickles’ hands zoomed out, gripped his cheeks, pinching them hard.
“Ooh, choochie cheeks,” she said. “What does your mum feed you on?”
“Cheese!” said Alfie, wriggling out of her grasp.
“Now, Alfie,” said his mother. “That’s a fib if ever I heard one! You know you aren’t allowed to eat cheese because it makes you faint clean away.” His mother rolled her eyes at Mrs Winifred Pickles, letting out a long suffering sigh. “Cheese makes him faint, you know.”
Mrs Winifred Pickles nodded sagely, her eyes glittering at the prospect of a juicy tale. Alfie took his chance and sidled away down the bread aisle, giving a quick glance backwards he saw to his relief his mother had started talking, and her hands were on her hips – always a good sign she was in for a long gossiping session.
Rounding the corner into dairy products Alfie headed straight for the cheese section. He gulped – there was just so much of it! He simply didn’t know where to start. Picking up a bright yellow pack he found it to be sealed tightly and he was sure if he tried to rip it open with his teeth someone would be sure to notice.
Squeak, squeak, squeak. Alfie turned expecting to see a giant mouse behind him, only to find a very large man with a ginger pony-tail pushing a heavily laden trolley towards him like a tank on manoeuvres. Alfie breathed in and scrunched his eyes closed, expecting the trolley to crush his bones at any moment.
Thump! Alfie opened one eye. A pack of cheese soared over his head landing in the trolley. Whack! In went another package. Whump! And another. Realising he was nicely shielded by the laden trolley on one side and the mountain of a man on the other, Alfie grabbed a carton of soft cheese with a lid, stuffed it up his sweater and scurried behind a display.
“Easy peasy, cheesy,” whispered Alfie. Sitting on the floor, he ripped off the lid and scooped a lump of cheese out with his fingers. He gulped it down so fast it wasn’t long before he was sliding the empty tub under the display.
Squeak, squeak, squeak – the mountainous trolley was on the move again. Alfie peeked out from behind the display to watch it move slowly away down the aisle. Alfie patted his tummy, trying to make a little burp come out. He looked back at the cheese counter and wondered if he should go and get some more, as the soft cheese didn’t seem to be working at all. He didn’t feel the slightest bit hot, and not at all burpy. Perhaps it was the wrong type of cheese.
“Hic!” Alfie put his hand over his mouth. “Oh, no! Hic, hic, hic!” He tried to cover his mouth with both hands but a big cheesy, hicketty burp came out, closely followed by a pop that echoed through down the cheese aisle and Alfie Rains sank to the floor like a deflated balloon.
*
The sound of waves lapping against the shore roused him. Alfie’s eyes snapped open immediately and he stretched out his arms and legs. But, all was well, and he was gloriously un-tethered. High above him a few fluffy white clouds chased each other like sheep across a bright blue field.
“Ahh,” said Alfie. He sat up quickly, kicking out his legs ready to spring into action, he felt both feet connect with something softly yielding.
WEEP, WEEP, GERUNT! A wild boar had been about to saunter up to him for a sniff, when Alfie’s legs sent it flying into a nearby ditch.
“Sorry, piggy!” said Alfie, looking down on the dazed porker and giving it a wave. The boar grunted and tried to get up, but it was still a bit wobbly after its surprise flight and slipped back down the bank.
Alfie turned. Behind him stretched rolling fields of lavender while in front was a sandy beach, still wet from the retreating tide. Trails of shells and crabs lay exposed on the soggy sand and the frill of surf was now far down the beach.
Behind the rocks at the water’s edge was tethered The Merry Mary. Sending out a cry of delight that stunned a few plovers, Alfie leapt over the ditch and began racing through the grass. He recognised his ship at once: the bright white sails flapping in the sharp breeze, the snazzy red flag wiggling from the topmost mast. He climbed down the bank to the beach. On the flat expanse of sand the wind nearly took his breath away. But Alfie was large enough to combat any wind and strode out strongly towards the water’s edge. The Merry Mary grew closer with each step, and Alfie began to run, grinning as he went, his feet slapping in puddles of sea water left behind by the retreating tide. He slowed and began to hum a little tune, swaggering as he went.
“My ship is a fine ship,
Big fat hold, filled with gold.
Lots of ropes for boardin’ boats…”
“About time you woke up!”
Alfie stopped singing immediately, jumping with surprise. “Who speaks? Show yourself!” He cried. Alfie spun on his heel, executing a 360 degree circle but didn’t spy a soul on the beach. There was nothing but a strangely familiar-looking battered old rowing boat covered with peeling paint.
“Who’s there?” Feeling puzzled, Alfie turned around again.
“No need to shout. I’m over here – see?” From out of the battered boat rose a head. The head was followed by a skinny body clad all in black. It was a runt of a fellow with only one eye – well, he may have had another eye but if he did it was hiding under a tatty leather eye patch. On the man’s neck was a dark blue tattoo of a spider’s web. The dirty sailor smiled, showing a row of crooked brown teeth any camel would be proud to own.
“Who the ditherin’ dolphins are you?” Alfie frowned at the grubby wreck of a sailor as he stuck one leg out of the boat and rolled out onto the sand. Standing up, he removed a dagger from his belt and began flicking it down his trousers.
“Darn barnacles,” he said, prising off a few more.
> “Answer me, you cheeky squid-squeak,” said Alfie. “Who the devilry are you?”
The fellow had stuck the dagger between his teeth while he tied his belt tighter around his waist. He spat the dagger out, catching it deftly before ramming it into a holster slung at his waist.
“My name is Sam Spiggot,” he said, spraying a fine mist of brown spittle through the gaps in his teeth. “They call me Spider Sam.”
“Why’d they call you that?” asked Alfie. Spider Sam removed his hat, and pointed to the top of his head.
“Say ‘hello’ to Vanessa.” Spider Sam pointed to a hairy spider the size of kitten nestling in his hair.
“Hello, Vanessa,” said Alfie, before he had time to consider talking to a spider may appear a bit silly.
“Ullo,” said Vanessa.
Alfie took a step backwards. “It spoke to me!” he said in surprise.
Spider Sam laughed so hard, Vanessa fell out of his hair and onto the sand.
“Oy,” she said, indignantly. “Respect the spider.”
“Sorry, Vanessa.” Spider Sam scooped her up in his hat. “And of course she speaks – anyone would think you’d never heard of the Giant Bolivian Talking Spider before!”
“Well, I haven’t!” said Alfie. “Never, ever. Are you sure it’s real?” He poked Vanessa and the spider hissed and jumped, baring a couple of impressive-looking fangs.
“Don’t call her an ‘it’,” said Spider Sam, placing the spider on his shoulder. “Vanessa’s a ‘she’ not an ‘it’ – isn’t that right, Vanessa?”
“Too right,” snarled Vanessa, “And don’t you forget it, Mr Ugly!”
“And now,” said Spider Sam, fixing Alfie with his one good eye. “You know our names – so the time has come for you to tell us yours.”
Alfie stared at Spider Sam and frowned, wondering what on earth he could say? Alfie the pirate didn’t sound even one little bit as menacing as ‘Spider Sam’ did.
“Err,” said Alfie, thinking hard. “My name is Captain… um... Humungous Thunders!” He puffed out his chest, patted his jacket and flapped his frilly lace cuffs. “Captain Thunders to you.”