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Chapter 7 – I’m so sorry Zep

Mike suddenly remembered a pirate shanty he had been taught many years ago.
“There’s a pirate who knows,” he began, “all that glitters is gold, and he’s boarding a stairway to treasure.”
The pirates immediately dropped what they were doing and gathered around the plank, listening intently.

“And when he gets rum he knows lest the pirate’s be ghosts,
With a sword he can get what he came for.
Yo ho yo ho ho ho,
And he's boarding a stairway to treasure.”

“Yarr!” Captain Semenenko-beard roared in approval.

“There's the scurvy I get when I sail to the west
And my parrot is calling for crackers
In my thoughts I have seen chests of gold through the seas
And boisterous cap’ns don’t stand slackers

And it makes me plunder
And it makes me plunder…”

Cigarette lighters were held high as Mike upped the tempo.

“If there's a mussel in your fish roll
Be on yerr guard now
It’s but a trigger for the mutiny

Yes there are two maps you can follow
don’t pick the wrong one
There's no time to change the ship you're on

Your sails are bulging and it won't go because the wind blows
Ol’ Davey’s calling you to join him
Dear matey can't you hear the cargo and did you know
The stowaway hides in the spare waffle tins.”

Mike burst into an accordion solo before being pulled from the plank. He crowd surfed his way along the deck, the rest of the song long forgotten.
“I’d like to offer yee a record contract,” said Captain Semenenko-beard, “Just sign here.”
Mike signed on the line.
“Harr harr!” brayed Adam, “Yee signed yerrself away! You’re one of the crew now!”
Mike read the small print.
“Feck.”
“Now swab the deck!”
“Do I can still get groupies?

The other side of the horizon, the Scarlet Scoundrel strained, it’s sails creaking.
“We must go faster!” ordered Captain Bird, at the wheel, “We’ll never catch up with Semenenko-beard at this rate!”
“The sails can’t take the pressure!” wailed Lieutenant Oakley, “You’re sailing her apart!”
“Sail her apart then!” barked Danny, returning to wrestling with the wheel like a man possessed.
“Just give it up, sir,” pleaded Gary, “They have too much of a lead, we’re too badly damaged.”
“Never!”
“Just let it go…”
“I will not… not … NOT!” screamed Danny, the vein on his forehead pulsing.
Danny strode to the rail overlooking the ship.
“Get out the oars, men.” He commanded, “I want 5 hours of work before evening!”
Danny stormed off into his cabin.
“I don’t like this, Gary,” said Pickup in a hushed voice, “He’s become obsessed with catching that ship, he could put us all in danger.”
“You forget yourself, midshipman,” replied Oakley, sternly, “That’s mutinous talk, and I wont abide by it.”

Meanwhile, aboard the Scurvy Dawg, Doc James Goodfield was preparing for surgery.
“Hold him down!” he said to Alan and Emma, as ‘Rusty-cutlass’ Dutton continued violently spasming, “What happened?”
“We found him like this in the kitchens, it looks he’s been eating Mally’s cooking.”
“Good God,” James mopped his brow as he continued examining the X-rays, “We’re looking at massive organ failure and internal bleeding on a scale that I have never… There!”
James pointed at the print-out. A small chilli-pepper was visible.
“It’s lodged in his stomach,” said James, “We have to move fast!”
From the brig, Tim watched with detached interest as James put on his bright yellow surgical gloves.
“Bring me my surgical gown!” called out James.
Alan did as he was asked, but felt the need to query the purpose.
“Isn’t the patient supposed to wear this?” he asked.
“I find it comfortable,” said James slipping on the gown, leaving his rear exposed, “Ah… much better.”
James put on his miners helmet.
“Ok, I’m going in!” he said, plunging his hands into Rusty’s cavity.
Though still unconscious, Rusty managed a strangled scream of pain.
“Shit! It’s moved into his bloodstream!” swore James, withdrawing his hand(s), “It’s heading for his brain!”
Rusty suddenly fell still. Alan checked for a pulse, before soberly shaking his head.
“Clear!” shouted James, slamming the nipple clamps onto the patient’s chest. There was still no response to stimulus.
“We’re losing him!” cried Emma.

To be continued