The Pirates! in an Adventure with the Romantics (15 page)

‘What an abominable place,’ whispered Shelley with a shudder, as they wandered from room to room. Everything was damp and dusty, and full of creeping shadows. In some places, where the owner had obviously felt there weren’t enough creeping shadows, a few more had been painted directly onto the walls. And where there weren’t shadows there were awful portraits.
²⁹

‘Look!’ said Mary, raising her lantern. ‘These must be all the Count Ruthvens going back through history. Goodness! It doesn’t seem like they got much in the way of vitamins.’

The counts were a sickly-looking bunch. One of them had a club foot. One of them had a club foot and a cruel mouth. And one of them had a club foot and a cruel mouth and a face that looked exactly like a cabbage. A few of the pirates pointed and laughed, and said ‘cabbage face’ until Babbage hushed them with a frown.

‘I would rather you didn’t jest about the unfortunate fellow,’ he said. ‘As a man with the surname “Babbage”, and possessing a peculiarly lumpy face myself, it may not surprise you to learn that I have received a fair number of cabbage-based taunts in my time. Please desist.’

‘Sorry, Charles, that was insensitive of us,’ said Jennifer. ‘But you must admit, he really
really
does look like a cabbage.’

‘Right then,’ said Byron, clapping his hands whilst the pirate with a scarf lit a fire in the castle’s study. ‘What’s the plan? Where do we think this Count might have put “On Feelings”?’

‘Well, he’s bound to have hidden it somewhere ingenious. You wouldn’t want to leave something like that just lying about,’ said the Pirate Captain, sinking into an armchair by the fireplace and pulling a cigar from his pocket. ‘So we need to look for clues. That’s the first rule of detectiving: legwork. To that end, I suggest we split up. Mary, why don’t you go and check the library? Percy, have a look in the dining room. Babbage can do the crypt. And Byron can investigate the pantry. Assorted pirate crew, you can look upstairs and check the bedrooms.’

‘And what are
you
going to be doing?’ asked Shelley.

‘Ah well, I’ve got the hardest job of all,’ said the Captain, sitting back and blowing a smoke ring. ‘You see, the second rule of detectiving is to
get inside the mind of your suspect
. So whilst you lot are having fun searching everywhere for clues, I’m going to risk life and limb by sitting here in front of the fire, eating a sandwich and imagining what this Count Ruthven fellow might have been like. There’s a chance I’ll become obsessed and start taking on his characteristics, but that’s a risk the criminal profiler has to take.’

Shelley looked a bit unconvinced.

‘Also, I can’t partake in clue-hunting, because the dust might interfere with my sensitive palate. And where would we be without my famous ability to tell chicken from fish, hmm? Well, come on then, don’t just stand there like corpses. Go and find some exciting clues.’

Everybody looked a bit more pale and jumpy when they got back from their clue-hunting, apart from the albino pirate, who just looked a bit more jumpy. Some of the crew had even started to suck on their security blankets, which they knew the Captain didn’t approve of, because it failed to strike a genuinely piratical note.

‘So, any luck?’ asked the Pirate Captain, finishing off some of the port he’d found inside the study’s rather gaudy credenza.

‘It’s horrendous!’ said the pirate with gout, miserably. ‘There are unexplainable noises and unnerving smells and the curtains taste of fungus.’

‘Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ve had a horrific time too,’ said the Captain. ‘Look – I spilled some of this port on my best coat. That’s not going to wash off in a hurry. So, let’s see these clues.’

‘I found a clue shaped like most of a dead rat,’ said the pirate with bedroom eyes.

‘I found a clue shaped like a horrible great pile of cobwebs,’ said Babbage.

‘I found a clue shaped like an old skull,’ said Byron.

‘I didn’t find a clue,’ said Mary. ‘But I did find this.’

She hoisted a big glass display case onto the desk. It contained a taxidermy diorama of some stoats playing cards.

‘Oh, that’s nice,’ said Byron. ‘I always like a spot of taxidermy.’
³⁰

‘No,’ said Mary, pointing at it. ‘Look closer.’

When they peered close they could see that actually it was a more gruesome diorama than it first appeared. One of the stoats, who was wearing a little pair of spectacles and carrying a cog, had a knife sticking out of his belly. Another of the stoats, who wore a beard and a tricorn hat, had a miniature noose around his neck. A stoat with a winsome expression was about to drink some poison. The stoat with lipstick was being drowned in a teacup. And the stoat with flouncy hair had a bomb in his lap.

‘I think it’s another warning,’ said the pirate who enjoyed continually stating the obvious. The Captain picked up the stoat that looked a bit like Mary and gave it an affectionate pat. ‘Look at that, they’ve got your lipstick bang on,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that ingenious?’

All the pirates agreed that it was ingenious and more adorable than sinister, so not really worth worrying about. Mary put the diorama back on the floor with a slightly exasperated sigh.

‘Anyhow,’ said the Pirate Captain, ‘that’s all any of you managed to find, is it? I mean, I don’t want to brag, but see here.’ He held up an antique journal. It had the words ‘Private! Keep Out!’ written across the front. ‘I didn’t even leave this armchair and I managed to find this stuck down the side of the cushion.’

‘What is it?’ asked Shelley.

‘This Ruthven fellow’s old diary. I always enjoy reading other people’s diaries.’ The Captain opened it and read a page out loud:

13th February 1676: That blue-eyed peasant girl is here milking the goats again. She has a very pretty smile. Think I will get a haircut.

22nd February: Said hello to the peasant girl. She screamed and asked what was wrong with my hair. Mumbled something about wolves. I hate that barber.

23rd February: Spent the afternoon practising my lute near the stables. The peasant girl asked me to stop. She said my playing was very good, but informed me that the goats are allergic to music. She is very knowledgeable for a peasant girl. Not sure she noticed my hat.

2nd March: Asked the peasant girl if she would like to accompany me for a stroll in the woods on her day off, but she said something vague about having to wait in for the plumber. I pointed out that plumbing has yet to reach the Carpathian Mountains. At that point the peasant girl said she thought somebody was calling her from the village. The village is half a mile from here, so I suppose she must have particularly keen hearing.

5th March: Went for my stroll alone. Halfway through I bumped into the peasant girl arm in arm with the stable boy. Asked what had happened to her plumbing appointment, but she just pretended to be a tree.

10th June: Have ceased to think about the peasant girl. I suppose she’s attractive in a conventional sort of way, if you go for obvious stuff like a nice figure and tumbling gold tresses, but I have decided that I have more refined tastes.

‘There’s lots of lovesick nonsense like that,’ said the Captain, flipping the page, ‘but then it gets interesting:

20th September: Whilst researching the family history, I have made a fantastic discovery! Though I dare not say what, even to you, dear diary. Have booked passage to England. Surprisingly cheap-rate ferry service.

27th September: Not 100 per cent sure about this ferry. Europe to England via Barbados seems like a strange sort of route. Lots more plundering than you would expect.

9th October: The Captain blames ‘sea air’ for missing valuables and my disordered belongings. Slightly worried that ‘sea air’ intends to get to Oxford before me. But tomorrow I disembark, and will make utmost haste towards my prize.

The Captain closed the diary. ‘Then, after that the entries stop and it just becomes a list of girls’ names with marks out of ten. Pages and pages of them.’

‘Well, that probably explains how your old mentor wound up with the catalogue number. But I’m not sure how any of it helps
us
,’ said Shelley, folding his arms in a surly way.

‘Ah, but that’s not all I found,’ said the Captain, looking pleased. He held up a piece of antique parchment. ‘Because see here – this was tucked into the back of it.’

Shelley took the parchment and studied it for a moment. It was a piece of sheet music with the lyrics to a song. Byron grabbed it from him excitedly.

‘Could this be it? Perhaps Plato’s treatise is actually a
love song
so powerful it can overcome any lady that should hear it?’

They all gathered round to look at the song.

‘Hmmm. Can’t
feel
myself swooning,’ said Mary.

‘Nope,’ said Jennifer. ‘Doesn’t do anything much for me, either.’

‘Must at least be a clue of some sort though?’ said the Captain, a little crestfallen. ‘Some kind of clever code maybe?’

‘How about it, Babs?’ said Byron. ‘Anything there?’

He passed the piece of music to Babbage, who gave it a cursory once-over, shrugged, and passed it back. ‘Not a sausage, so far as I can make out.’

‘Damn and blast!’ said Byron, scrunching it up and tossing it over his shoulder.

‘Well then,’ said Babbage, getting to his feet. ‘It looks like this entire expedition has been an unfortunate wild goose chase.’ He yawned. ‘Gentlemen, and ladies, it has been a long day, and the night draws in. I suggest we have little option but to retire to bed for the evening. I for one welcome the chance to spend a night free from clattering hooves or the incessant chatter of weevils.’

A bit reluctantly everybody agreed that Babbage was probably right, so they gathered their things together and went upstairs to choose where to sleep. The Pirate Captain crossed his fingers and hoped that none of the rooms had bunk-beds in them, because he didn’t want to have to spend the rest of the night mediating disputes between the crew as to who got to go on top.

A little while later the pirate with a scarf finished his nightly moisturising routine, and headed back towards his bedroom. As he was passing the door to the Captain’s room it opened a crack.

‘Can I have a word, number two?’

‘Of course, Captain,’ said the pirate with a scarf. ‘Did you want me to brush your teeth for you?’

‘Yes, thanks, in a minute. But first, I’ve got another little job for you.’

He beckoned the pirate with a scarf inside. Then the Captain proudly slapped a bundle of paper into his hands. It was tied together with a bit of twine. ‘Ta-da,’ he said.

‘What’s this?’ asked the pirate with a scarf, hoping that the answer wouldn’t be too stupid.

‘Nothing less than a cupid’s arrow aimed directly at young Mary’s heart!’

The Captain took a moment to get the pirate with a scarf up to speed. He explained all about Mary’s secret love of monsters, and about her novel, and about her clever use of subtext.

‘So,’ he continued. ‘I’ve decided to do some subtext too. To that end I’ve written an entirely new version of Mary’s story, but this time there’s none of that conflicted feelings nonsense. In my version the heroine and the monster get it together. Actually they get it together in chapter two, so the rest is pretty racy stuff, as you can imagine.’

The pirate with a scarf flicked through the manuscript. He read a page at random.

Phoebe stepped out of the shower, sensuously towelling off her glistening elbows. Then the wall exploded and the half-man, half-seaweed monster walked in excitingly. ‘Hello, doll-face,’ said the half-man, half-seaweed monster noisily. ‘I have just eaten Sir Henderson.’

‘You swine!’ said Phoebe breathlessly, first swooning, and then caressing his beak affectionately. ‘Oh! But why pretend any more? Let us be frank at last – it is you I have always loved, from the first moment I saw you powerfully wrestle the quarter-bee/three-quarters-mollusc creature that night in the Limehouse opium den. We should probably elope to someplace hot and get married now. By the way, it is all right if you want to see other women, I’m completely fine with that.’