The Pirates! in an Adventure with the Romantics Read Online Free
Author: Gideon Defoe
pointed to where he’d circled the advert.
‘Advertisement?’ The man looked at him blankly. ‘What in the ocean’s thundering swell are you talking about?’
‘I was under the impression that you were seeking an exciting adventure ?’
There was a small cough from the other side of the room. Everybody turned to look at the young woman, who blushed.
‘Sorry, I should have mentioned that,’ she said, with an apologetic smile directed at her companions. ‘It just seemed like it might be a good idea. You’re not the only one who’s been going a bit loopy, B – the thought of having to go on one more alpine jaunt makes me want to eat my own elbows. So a few days ago I took it upon myself to put that advert in the paper. Though to be honest, I’d rather given up hope – so far the only responses have been from people trying to sell us second-hand cuckoo clocks.’
The pale man gave the girl a rather disapproving look, and the wavy-haired man scratched his chin thoughtfully. Then, his impending suicide seemingly forgotten, he roared with delight, and jumped down off the balustrade. ‘Why, that’s fantastic! Good thinking, Mary! Bright cookie, this girl.’ He threw the poison and pistol over his shoulder, because littering wasn’t considered antisocial in those days, then crossed the room towards the Pirate Captain and gave him a hearty handshake. ‘What did you say your name was again?’
‘I’m the Pirate Captain,’ said the Pirate Captain.
‘I like your neck, Pirate Captain! That’s a man’s neck! Like an oak!’
‘You’ve got a very impressive neck yourself.’
The man roared again, apparently for no real reason beyond the love of roaring, and smacked his pale friend on the back, making him wince. ‘Isn’t that brilliant, Percy?’ He paused and suddenly looked serious. ‘But I’m sorry! Where are our manners? We must introduce ourselves!’ He turned and beckoned to the young woman. ‘This ravishing beauty is Mary Godwin.’ The girl smiled and did a sort of half curtsey, half wave. ‘This cloud of tubercular vapours is Percy Shelley.’ The young man gave an awkward little bow. ‘And I’m George Byron. You may have heard of me, if you happen to subscribe to Young, Brooding and Doomed , the quarterly newsletter that details my exploits. We’re poets.’
None of the pirates subscribed to Young, Brooding and Doomed , because they tended to go for less erudite nautical publications like Ports Illustrated and Teen Scene , but they did their best to look impressed anyhow.
Byron flopped into a big armchair and lit a cigar. ‘So – adventure ! Not a word to be trifled with. What kind of adventures do you offer?’
‘What kind of adventures don’t we offer might be a simpler question,’ replied the Captain. ‘Though actually no, probably asking what kind we offer makes more sense. So far we’ve had an adventure with a Man-panzee, one with a great white whale, another one with some communists, and one with Napoleon Bonaparte himself. Wall-to-wall action, every one. Sometimes there’s even a vague sort of theme. Anyhow, I can provide references if you want.’ He got the pirate with a scarf to waggle a pile of references. ‘You’ll notice that they’re all written in different colour pens, so they’re definitely genuine. And now, if you’ll permit, my crew will perform a medley of pirate things to convince you to hire us.’
As they’d prepared earlier, the crew shuffled forward and started to do a mostly uncoordinated display of stuff that they thought people would associate with pirates. Jennifer did her impression of a sultry Spanish Princess and heaved her bosom whilst pretending to be overcome by the drama of the cutlass fight being staged by the pirate with gout and the pirate with a hook for a hand. The albino pirate said ‘avast’ in a way that suggested he didn’t actually know what it meant. The pirate in green gave a short presentation about the importance of
‘Advertisement?’ The man looked at him blankly. ‘What in the ocean’s thundering swell are you talking about?’
‘I was under the impression that you were seeking an exciting adventure ?’
There was a small cough from the other side of the room. Everybody turned to look at the young woman, who blushed.
‘Sorry, I should have mentioned that,’ she said, with an apologetic smile directed at her companions. ‘It just seemed like it might be a good idea. You’re not the only one who’s been going a bit loopy, B – the thought of having to go on one more alpine jaunt makes me want to eat my own elbows. So a few days ago I took it upon myself to put that advert in the paper. Though to be honest, I’d rather given up hope – so far the only responses have been from people trying to sell us second-hand cuckoo clocks.’
The pale man gave the girl a rather disapproving look, and the wavy-haired man scratched his chin thoughtfully. Then, his impending suicide seemingly forgotten, he roared with delight, and jumped down off the balustrade. ‘Why, that’s fantastic! Good thinking, Mary! Bright cookie, this girl.’ He threw the poison and pistol over his shoulder, because littering wasn’t considered antisocial in those days, then crossed the room towards the Pirate Captain and gave him a hearty handshake. ‘What did you say your name was again?’
‘I’m the Pirate Captain,’ said the Pirate Captain.
‘I like your neck, Pirate Captain! That’s a man’s neck! Like an oak!’
‘You’ve got a very impressive neck yourself.’
The man roared again, apparently for no real reason beyond the love of roaring, and smacked his pale friend on the back, making him wince. ‘Isn’t that brilliant, Percy?’ He paused and suddenly looked serious. ‘But I’m sorry! Where are our manners? We must introduce ourselves!’ He turned and beckoned to the young woman. ‘This ravishing beauty is Mary Godwin.’ The girl smiled and did a sort of half curtsey, half wave. ‘This cloud of tubercular vapours is Percy Shelley.’ The young man gave an awkward little bow. ‘And I’m George Byron. You may have heard of me, if you happen to subscribe to Young, Brooding and Doomed , the quarterly newsletter that details my exploits. We’re poets.’
None of the pirates subscribed to Young, Brooding and Doomed , because they tended to go for less erudite nautical publications like Ports Illustrated and Teen Scene , but they did their best to look impressed anyhow.
Byron flopped into a big armchair and lit a cigar. ‘So – adventure ! Not a word to be trifled with. What kind of adventures do you offer?’
‘What kind of adventures don’t we offer might be a simpler question,’ replied the Captain. ‘Though actually no, probably asking what kind we offer makes more sense. So far we’ve had an adventure with a Man-panzee, one with a great white whale, another one with some communists, and one with Napoleon Bonaparte himself. Wall-to-wall action, every one. Sometimes there’s even a vague sort of theme. Anyhow, I can provide references if you want.’ He got the pirate with a scarf to waggle a pile of references. ‘You’ll notice that they’re all written in different colour pens, so they’re definitely genuine. And now, if you’ll permit, my crew will perform a medley of pirate things to convince you to hire us.’
As they’d prepared earlier, the crew shuffled forward and started to do a mostly uncoordinated display of stuff that they thought people would associate with pirates. Jennifer did her impression of a sultry Spanish Princess and heaved her bosom whilst pretending to be overcome by the drama of the cutlass fight being staged by the pirate with gout and the pirate with a hook for a hand. The albino pirate said ‘avast’ in a way that suggested he didn’t actually know what it meant. The pirate in green gave a short presentation about the importance of
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