Another Whole Nother Story Read online

  “Quick!” shouted Jibby. “Open the door.”

  While there were definite rules about using people or things to help contestants maintain balance, there was no rule stating that they had to remain in the room or in the city of Boston or even in the Northern Hemisphere, for that matter. The doctor opened the door and Dizzy hopped out into the street. The crowd followed while Jibby and Shifty stayed back to keep an eye on the Mailman, whose confidence seemed to have returned as quickly as Dizzy’s had left him.

  And if Jibby had any hope at all that his man Dizzy could somehow snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, it faded quickly when he heard a loud splash followed by cheers of triumph and moans of disappointment. The Mailman’s multiringed lips curled into a smile most smug. He lowered his foot to the floor and was immediately greeted by a sharp pat on the back from Shifty. Moments later, Sammy and Aristotle dragged Dizzy, soaking wet from his recent plunge into Boston Harbor, back into the ordinary. The crowd came in on their soggy heels, losers begrudgingly paying winners.

  “What the devil happened?” Jibby demanded.

  “What do you think happened?” said Aristotle. “It’s the curse.”

  The Mailman swaggered over. “Well, you can’t win ’em all,” he said. “I can, but you can’t.” The Mailman punctuated his remark with a quick two-second laugh. “Now, about me new ship.”

  “Yes,” said Jibby. “About your new ship. You see, here’s the situation.”

  The Mailman’s countenance grew dark. His crewmen moved their hands to the grips of their cutlasses.

  “The situation is …” Jibby appeared to be leaning toward the door when he said, “It’s all yours. Without a doubt, the best man won today. Congratulations.”

  “Why, thank you,” said the Mailman, a little thrown by Jibby’s sunny disposition while standing in the shadow of defeat. His men relaxed and removed their hands from their weapons. “Now, I trust you’ll need some time to remove your personal effects from the ship before I officially take ’er into me possession. Of course, me men and I will want to accompany you, just to make sure you don’t run off with me Bella Juanita.” He winked at Juanita when he said this, and Jibby fought off the urge to punch him in the nose.

  Meanwhile, Jibby’s crew looked to their captain, wondering how he would get them out of this mess. He had certainly gotten them out of jams before, but this one seemed particularly dicey. Jibby slapped his hand on the table. “No,” he said. “We won’t be needing our personal effects. They’re all yours.”

  “I’m confused,” said the Mailman.

  “We don’t need possessions to be happy,” said Jibby. “All we need is each other. Right, men?” With a hearty laugh, Jibby threw his arms around Sammy and Aristotle. His crewmen tried their best to hide their confusion and forced out laughs of their own.

  “Riiiight,” said Three-Eyed Jake. “All we need is each other.”

  “You bet,” said Jibby. “We’ve given up pirating and have decided to become shepherds, living the simple life.”

  The Mailman snorted out a quick one-second laugh. “Sorry, mate, but I have trouble imagining you as a shepherd. Just the sight of you all is guaranteed to frighten the sheep away.”

  “We’ll see,” said Jibby. “Now, let’s go have a look at your new ship, shall we?”

  Jibby led the way down along the water and the Mailman and his crew followed. Dizzy leaned against Sammy and Three-Eyed Jake for support. When they arrived at the pier, the two boys were still fishing and still had caught nothing other than a soggy white wig.

  “There she is,” said Jibby, looking out with pride at the ship to the right of the Sea Urchin. Beneath the light of a tiny slice of moon, it very well could have been the Bella Juanita. “Your new ship.”

  “She’s a beauty, all right,” said the Mailman, rubbing his palms together with excitement. “Just like her namesake. Okay, men, let’s have a look at our new ’ome upon the sea.” The Mailman and his crew climbed into their tender and prepared to row out to what they assumed to be the Bella Juanita.

  Jibby’s crew still had no idea what their captain was up to. Once the Mailman got to the ship, he would find out rather quickly from whoever was onboard that it was not the Bella Juanita. When the Mailman and his crew had rowed a fair distance out into the harbor and were out of earshot, Three-Eyed Jake turned to Jibby. “What do we do now, run?”

  “Run?” said Jibby. “Can’t run all the way to Denmark.” He walked down to where the young boys sat, one of them wearing the waterlogged wig. “Excuse me, lads. Don’t seem to be having much luck there.”

  The boys looked up at Jibby, not sure whether he was being empathetic or rubbing it in. “What’s it to ya, mister?” said the boy in the wig.

  “Well, it’s gotta be one of two things,” he said. “Either you’re lousy fishermen or your equipment’s no good. By the looks of you fine fellas, I’m willing to bet it’s the latter and not the former.”

  The boys had no idea what Jibby had just said. He dug into his satchel and pulled out some coins. “Tell you what. I’ll buy those poles off you. For a good enough price that you can go out and get yourselves some proper equipment.” The boys quickly agreed and handed over the poles in exchange for a small sampling of gold coins, then ran off, leaving their empty wooden bucket behind.

  “Okay, then,” Jibby said to his crew. “Let’s move out.”

  They followed Jibby to the gray rowboat. He stepped in, then offered his hand to the others. “Where are we going?” asked Sammy.

  “Where are we going?” Jibby repeated. “Why, to Denmark, of course.”

  “In a rowboat?”

  “No,” he said. “Not in a rowboat. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Dizzy. “We’re going to steal the Sea Urchin? I thought you said our stealing days were over.”

  “We’re not stealing it,” said Jibby. “We’re borrowing it. Nothing wrong with borrowing things as long as you give them back when you’re done.”

  “But we can’t sail her with the numbers we’ve got,” said Aristotle.

  “We can and we will,” said Jibby.

  When the Mailman’s tender glided up next to his new ship, he reached for and grabbed a rope ladder hanging over the side. “Follow me to our new ’ome, boys,” he said before beginning his ascent. Halfway up the ladder, he was greeted by the barrels of six long rifles staring down at him, along with one angry face belonging to the ship’s captain.

  “Who are you?” the captain demanded. “And what manner of business have you aboard my ship?”

  “Your ship? But I won the Bella Juanita fair and square.”

  “Bella Juanita? This, sir, is the Saratoga. Now I suggest you be on your way lest you find even more metal in your face.”

  The Mailman’s eyes turned red at the thought of being had. “Why that no good son of a walrus,” he said, dropping back into the tender. “He has designs on me ship. Scull the rudder! Top speed to the Sea Urchin!” The tender was equipped with four sets of oars and could move through the water much faster than Jibby’s dilapidated old rowboat. The Mailman stood at the bow of the tender and drew his sword.

  “Ramming speed!” he cried.

  “Here they come,” said Captain Jibby. “Right on time.” Even from such a distance, he could see the fury on the Mailman’s well-decorated face.

  Three-Eyed Jake made a quick visual assessment of the distance between the rowboat and the Sea Urchin as well as the distance between the rowboat and the Mailman’s fast-approaching tender. Taking into account the speed of each boat, he came to a conclusion. “We’ll never make it.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Aristotle.

  “I’m going to do what I always do when things get a little too stressful,” said Jibby. “I’m going to go fishing.” He picked up one of the fishing rods he had just acquired and stood in the center of the rowboat, trying to steady himself.

  The rowboat lurched closer to the Sea Urchin with ev
ery thrust of the oars while the tender sped along its collision course. Soon, the Mailman and his crew trailed the rowboat by a mere thirty feet, also known as shouting distance.

  “You oughtn’t ’ave done that, mate,” shouted the Mailman, the blade of his cutlass shimmering in the moonlight. “Now you’ll ’ave to pay with your life.”

  Jibby brought the rod back and snapped his wrist in the direction of the Mailman. The hook floated silently through the air, eventually finding its way to one of the many rings on the Mailman’s lower lip. Before the Mailman could say what was on his mind (which was “Oh no!”), Jibby pulled on the rod and sent him tumbling into the bay. The extra fifteen pounds of metal on the Mailman’s face made it very difficult to keep his head above water.

  Jibby tossed the rod overboard. “Ah, the one that got away,” he said with a shake of his head.

  While the Mailman’s crew stopped to rescue their captain, the rowboat pulled up alongside the Sea Urchin. Jibby picked up the second fishing rod and cast the line high into the air. It disappeared into the darkness and over the side of the ship. He gave it a quick tug, and a rope ladder tumbled down from the ship’s deck all the way to the waterline.

  “Ladies first,” he said. Juanita took the ladder and climbed up. While the others followed, Jibby held the ladder, watching as Shifty grabbed the fishing line floating on the water and pulled hand over hand until the Mailman’s head appeared, his lower lip stretched to its limit. The men hauled him aboard like a common mackerel, but by the time they were able to remove the fishhook from his lower lip, Jibby had nearly finished his climb up the ladder—which was no easy task with only one hand and a can opener to work with.

  “You won’t get away with this, Lodbrok!” the Mailman shouted, along with a few other words that I will not repeat. He seethed with anger, which caused his face to jingle and his hula girl tattoo to put her left foot in and shake it all about. “I’ll have my revenge if it’s the last thing I do!”

  Jibby scoffed at the threat and stood on deck, pausing for a moment to soak in the feeling of being aboard a sailing ship for the first time in eight years. Boy, did it feel good to be back. “Weigh anchor and heave in the mainsail!” he shouted. “Hard about on the helm. Let’s get this ship turned around.”

  Jibby’s crew went to work, expertly working the rigging as if they hadn’t missed a day in the last eight years.

  The Mailman and his crew could do nothing but watch as Jibby “borrowed” their ship.

  While they sat in stunned silence, a small red rowboat glided quietly into Boston Harbor. “We made it,” cried Penny. “We’re in Boston.”

  “Hey, look at that,” said Mr. Cheeseman. With an oar he reached out and lifted a blue baseball cap from the bay.

  “My hat,” said Chip.

  “I think you mean my hat,” said Big.

  “Right,” said Chip, shaking the water from the cap. “Your hat.”

  Rowing farther into the bay, they could see quaint shops and beautiful houses and a very short man sitting atop a very large white horse, cackling loudly. The man, that is. The horse was far too proud to cackle.

  “He followed us,” said Mr. Cheeseman.

  “What do we do now?” asked Chip. “We can’t go ashore.”

  Mr. Cheeseman looked over his shoulder and thought of rowing back up the river and escaping into the woods. But he quickly set that idea aside when he saw a blue rowboat with two strange men coming toward them.

  “Dad, look out!” cried Chip.

  Mr. Cheeseman whirled around just in time to see a large, barnacle-covered ship heading directly for them at full sail. “I see it,” said Mr. Cheeseman, taking evasive action.

  The ship was making a 180-degree turn and its stern swung past the rowboat, missing it by mere feet and tossing it about in its wake. From the ship’s deck, Jibby barked out commands loud enough for all to hear, including those being bounced around in tiny rowboats far below.

  “Ready to tack! Now steady up and set course for Jutland!”

  “It’s Jibby,” said Penny.

  “Are you sure?” asked Ethan.

  “I recognize his voice. And Jutland is exactly where he said they were headed. We’ve got to get on that ship.” Penny stood and shouted to Jibby through cupped hands but to no avail.

  Mr. Cheeseman rowed toward the ship but his two oars were no match for the mighty sails of the Sea Urchin. “I know,” said Chip. He quickly found the end of the rowboat’s tether rope. “Big, I need an arrow.”

  Big nodded. Chip slid one of the handmade arrows from Big’s quiver and began tying it to the tether. Big managed to sit up. She lifted her bow over her head with her good arm and handed it to Penny. “You can do it,” she said.

  “I hope so,” said Penny.

  Chip handed Penny the arrow. “Don’t miss.”

  Penny didn’t answer. She placed the arrow against the bowstring, steadied herself as best she could, and drew it back. She inhaled and held her breath for a moment, then released the arrow and sent it, strong and true, into the side of the Sea Urchin with a decisive thump.

  “Nice shot!” yelled Chip, offering a rare compliment to his younger sister.

  “Hang on,” said Mr. Cheeseman as the Sea Urchin quickly took the slack out of the rope and yanked the little rowboat along. They were safe. Well, as safe as you can be while sitting in a rickety old rowboat that is being dragged along by a rickety old pirate ship toward the open ocean. If they were not able to signal Jibby to drop down a ladder and take them aboard, they would eventually be capsized by the growing waves or dragged beneath the ship and drowned.

  But Jibby was occupied with the business of trying to sail a ship with a crew half the size of what is normally needed, which is especially difficult when that crew includes one man who is incredibly dizzy, another with a bad back, and yet another who can’t seem to remember things from one moment to the next. So no matter how loudly Mr. Cheeseman and his children yelled, their voices were lost among all the shouting on deck.

  “Okay, quiet everyone,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “I have an idea.” He reached into his pocket and removed the cell phone. He flipped it open, held it as high in the air as he could, pressed the ring tone button, and waited. After several bars of “The Girl from Ipanema,” there was still nothing but shouting on board. Ethan pushed the button again and, just a few seconds in, all the yelling from above stopped. Jibby leaned out over the starboard side, searching for the source of his favorite song. Mr. Cheeseman and his children yelled and waved their arms wildly. In the dark, Jibby could see only the glow of the cell phone, moving back and forth, but that was enough. “Drop ladder!” he wailed. “Crew members coming aboard!”

  Within seconds a ladder came tumbling over the side. Mr. Cheeseman took hold of the tether and began pulling the rowboat closer and closer to the Sea Urchin, all the while hoping that the one tiny arrow would not come loose and set them adrift straight into the hands of a persistent witch hunter. When the rowboat pulled parallel to the Sea Urchin, Chip took hold of the ladder and guided Teddy to it. “Hang on tight, now. We’ll be right behind you. And whatever you do, don’t look down.”

  With shaky hands and quivering lower lip, Teddy and Rat-Face Roy started up the ladder. Penny placed Digs on her shoulder and followed. Ethan helped Big to stand. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll carry you.”

  “No,” said Big. “I’m okay.” Big, her right arm hanging useless at her side, started up the rope ladder, alternately using her one good arm and her teeth to propel herself upward. Chip was the next to go. Mr. Cheeseman slung Pinky over his shoulder, but as he reached for the ladder the arrow snapped in half, instantly separating the rowboat from the ship. The gap widened quickly. Mr. Cheeseman dove from the rowboat and managed to catch the very bottom rung of the ladder with one outstretched hand. Pinky clung to him tightly, digging her nails into his back and shoulders, as the ship dragged them along dangerously close to its hull, which was coated with razor-sharp barnacles.
r />   “Dad! Hang on!” yelled Penny from the deck.

  Mr. Cheeseman managed to get both hands on the ladder and pull himself and Pinky from the water. His palms were blistered, his arms were spent from three hours at the oars, and the climb was slow and painful. Finally, two rungs from the top, Sammy and Jibby reached over the edge and dragged Pinky and Mr. Cheeseman aboard.

  “Don’t you people ever get tired of being rescued?” said Jibby with a twinkle in his eye. “What in the name of Ragnold’s bunions brings you here?”

  “Hunters,” said Penny.

  “Hunters? Which hunters?”

  “Exactly,” said Penny.

  “Is this your ship?” asked Chip. “Is this the Bella Juanita?”

  “This bundle of kindling?” said Jibby. “Not even close. No, this is a different ship.”

  “Where’d you get it?” asked Penny.

  “Borrowed it,” said Jibby. “Now, let’s get you folks belowdeck and into some dry clothes.”

  The others followed as Aristotle scooped Big up and carried her down to the captain’s quarters, only to find the door locked. “Stand back,” said Sammy. “I’ll break it down.”

  “Easy there, Sammy boy,” said Jibby. He retracted the hole punch from his Swiss Army hand. “There’s not a lock I can’t pick with this thing.” Jibby knelt in front of the door and worked the lock only for a matter of seconds before it responded with a decisive click. He smiled with satisfaction, turned the knob, and pushed the door in.

  Aristotle lowered Big onto the captain’s bed. Chip took her hand and held it tightly. Her face was awash in pain and cold sweat.

  “There’s no easy way to do this,” said Jibby. He offered Big a piece of rawhide on which to bite down, but she refused with a quick shake of her head. “Okay, then. Take a deep breath.” Under Chip’s watchful and protective eyes, Jibby pressed on Big’s shoulder with one hand and rotated her arm upward with the other, stopping only when there was an audible pop. Big exhaled. A single tear ran down her cheek but she did not cry out.

  “Now,” said Jibby, “fetch me some cloth for a sling. This arm is to stay put for at least a week.”