Hamish X and the Cheese Pirates (29 page)

“How did you do it?” asked Viggo. “How? No one could eat that much cheese and feel no effects.”

Hamish X turned to look at Viggo. “Easy, really. I built up my resistance. Every day I was at the orphanage, I stole a little cheese and ate it.”

Viggo stabbed a pointy finger at Hamish X. “You were the thief!”

“Yes, although I prefer the term ‘pilferer.' Slowly, over the weeks, I increased the amount I ate each day. I can eat about six ounces now without any ill effects.” Hamish X hugged his book to his chest. “Now that I have my book, I'll be on my way.”

“No you won't.” Viggo turned and shouted at the pirates, “He's killed your Captain. You can't let him walk away!”

“It's the International Pirate Code,” one of the pirates shrugged. “We have to honour the agreement. Besides, nobody really liked the Captain anyway.” The rest of the pirates nodded and mumbled in agreement.

“Sorry Viggo,” Hamish X said. “Hate to disappoint you. I must be going. My friends are waiting for me.”

The crowd of pirates and monkeys parted respectfully as the little boy in the big boots walked through the hall and out the big doors into the early morning light.

Winkie waited outside. As Hamish X emerged from the doors, the snow monkeys made such a racket of monkey
noise that Hamish X was forced to cover his ears. Winkie lifted Hamish X off his feet, crushing him in a vicelike hug with his long ropy arms.

“All right! All right, Winkie! Let me down!”

Winkie obeyed, gently placing Hamish X back on his feet. The big monkey's eye glowed with happiness.

“I don't know if you understand me, but thank you for your help. I have to go now, back to my friends.”

Winkie hooted mournfully, slapping his hands gently on the ground. The other monkeys joined in, a soft ululating call.

“Don't be sad, Winkie. You're free now. Go and find a new place to live. I'm sure there's a place for you somewhere, just as there's a place for me.” Hamish X reached up and scratched Winkie behind the ear. The huge monkey grinned, showing his long canines, and thumped his right foot against the ground. He looked like a big, happy dog.

“Take me with you!” The whining voice cut through the joyful moment. Viggo stood at the door of the hall, wringing his bony hands. “You can't leave me here with these … moronic, cretinous criminals.”

“Hey. Not nice,” one of the pirates objected.

“Sorry,” Hamish X said. “I think you should stay with your new friends. We don't need you back in Windcity. We can manage fine without you.”

“It's my factory! My money! My cheese!”

“Built on the backs of poor orphan children. It's time they had a better life. Without you!” Hamish X tucked his massive book under his arm and gave a little bow. “Goodbye Viggo. Goodbye pirates! Goodbye monkeys!”

“No! No! You can't leave me here!” Viggo threw himself at Hamish X's feet, sobbing and begging, but
Hamish X shook his head. Pulling his boot out of Viggo's bony grasp, he turned and trotted off towards the waiting airship.

The monkeys hooted in farewell until Hamish X disappeared into the warehouse. Then, led by Winkie, they bounded off down the steps into the caverns below. They rushed down through the winding tunnels of the volcano and poured out onto the arctic plain. A long stream of monkeys set off in a westerly direction, searching for a new home.

MR. KIPLING
 had brought the happy news that Hamish X was alive and well. And now the tall man stood with Mimi, Parveen, and Mrs. Francis on the landing platform, all watching the doors of the hall with bated breath.

When Mimi saw Hamish X trot out into the morning light she leapt for joy, pumping her fist in the air. “It's him! He's comin'!” she shouted. The children collected in the cargo bay cheered. Mrs. Francis's eyes filled with tears.

“Remarkable boy,” Mr. Kipling muttered.

When Hamish X emerged from the warehouse, climbing up the ladder to the docking platform, the cheering grew thunderously loud. Mrs. Francis practically hauled him up the last few rungs.

“Oh, my dear boy!” She covered his face with kisses. “Oh, I was so worried about you! Are you all right?”

“I'll be fine if you don't suffocate me,” Hamish X laughed. He sauntered over to where Mimi and Parveen stood with Mr. Kipling and wrapped his arms around his two friends. “Good work, Mimi. I knew you could do it.”

“I'm just glad yer okay.” Mimi hugged him back. “I thought you were a goner when that ugly monkey pulled you over the cliff.”

Hamish X finally let his friends loose. Mr. Kipling cleared his throat. “Well done,” he said, offering his hand. “And Cheesebeard?”

“Dead,” Hamish X said, shaking Kipling's hand. “Cheese poisoning.”

“Poetic justice, some might say. Allow me to make a more formal introduction. I am Mr. Kipling, formerly first mate aboard the airship
Vulture
. Currently without a commission.”

“You're welcome to come to Windcity, sir,” said Hamish X. “We have plenty of room.”

Mr. Kipling smiled at Mrs. Francis. “I could think of no better place to be.” Mrs. Francis blushed. “Now, I think we should get underway. I'll head up to the bridge. If you would be so good as to cast off, Chief Engineer Parveen?”

Parveen nodded and pushed his glasses firmly up on his nose. Mr. Kipling went up into the ship and through the forward hatch. Parveen moved to climb up but Hamish X grabbed his arm. “Thanks, Parveen. You did so much with so little.”

Parveen's mouth twitched slightly, but he didn't smile. He shrugged and scampered up into the ship towards the engine room.

“I'll check on the children,” Mrs. Francis announced and headed up after Parveen, leaving Hamish X and Mimi alone on the platform.

“I guess we better untie the lines,” Mimi said.

“Yes, we should,” Hamish X agreed. “Mimi?”

She stopped and looked at him. “Uh huh?”

“You really kicked butt.”

She grinned. “I know!”

PARVEEN PRIMED THE ENGINES
, checking the fuel lines and the engine temperature. Satisfied, he headed to the bridge, meeting Hamish X and Mimi in the cargo hold. They had just finished winching the doors shut. The ship was now floating free, the deck swaying slightly with the gentle roll of the huge vessel. Mr. Kipling obviously had the wheel and was turning them southeast, pointing the airship's nose in the direction of Windcity.

“What a trip,” Hamish X said.

“It's good to be going home,” Mimi said.

They made their way forward, through the crew quarters and into the galley where Mrs. Francis was settling the children into their cabins for the journey. She smiled when she saw the trio.

“I thought I'd never see you again after I had to leave you in that vat.” She gathered them all in a hug that strained the limits of even her ample bosom. “Who would ever have thought you'd be saving me?”

“Uh … Mrs. Francis,” Parveen said hesitantly. “About your porridge vat. I'm afraid we lost it.” He recounted the many services the vat had performed in the air and on the ice. “We left it somewhere south of here. I'm sure we could find it if we try.”

Mrs. Francis shook her head and laughed. “No, my dear. As of today, I won't need that vat any more. I don't plan on making porridge ever again.” A cheer went up from Mimi and Hamish X and the children. Parveen frowned. “I kind of like porridge.”

“Then I'll make some especially for you.” Mrs. Francis kissed him on the crown of his head. “Now, go up and tell Mr. Kipling I'm making some breakfast. I'll bring him up a pot of tea directly.”

Hamish X, Parveen, and Mimi continued forward to the bridge. They found Mr. Kipling at the wheel, adjusting course with the help of the compass fastened to the steering column.

“Hello, children! We have a course set for Windcity. Barring any adverse weather conditions we should arrive in two days.”

“Fantastic.” Hamish X moved to the panoramic window at the front of the bridge and looked out on the expanse of white ice and blue sky stretching out into the distance. Mimi and Parveen joined him, standing at either side. They merely looked out, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Such a long journey, so many adventures, and now it was all coming to an end. Here in the sky they found it hard to believe that the earth with all its danger and fear and trouble was real at all.

Their reverie was broken by a gasp of pain. They whirled around to see Mr. Kipling clutching at the handle of a knife, its blade buried in his shoulder. He slumped to the ground. Mimi rushed to his side.

“Schtay vere you is!” Schmidt stood in the doorway, a heavy black cannon of a pistol in his hand. Blood from his head wound was matted in his hair. His eyes were filled with hatred. “Schmack me in de head, vill you? Not so schmart now vit Herr Schmidt holding a pistol in your face, hmmm?”

“You haven't got a chance,” Hamish X said. “Put down the pistol and we'll take you back to the island. We won't hurt you.”

“Ha! I'm not schtupid!” He waved the gun. “Hands up, kinder! You, little girlie! Stand up and get avay from him!” Reluctantly, Mimi stood and joined Hamish X and Parveen, hands in the air.

“Schmidt,” Mr. Kipling said reasonably, though it hurt him to speak, “let the children go. This is between you and me.”

“Not ze high and mighty Mr. Kiplink now, are you? Mr. Schmidt is in charge now! I'm turning ziss vessel around. We'll go back and pick up ze crew and I vill be Kapitan. Kapitan Schmidt.” He laughed and puffed out his chest. He grinned hideously and raised the pistol, aiming at Mr. Kipling's heart. “Ze first sing I'm going to do is get rid of you, Herr Kiplink.” His finger tightened on the trigger. Mimi and Hamish X tensed to fling themselves at him, but there was no chance they could reach him in time. It was at that instant that Mrs. Francis smashed the teapot down on his head.

“Ugh! Zat's tvice in von day,” Schmidt mumbled, folding into a boneless heap on the ground. The gun rattled to the floor and Hamish X kicked it away from the pirate. Mrs. Francis dropped the broken handle of the teapot and rushed to Mr. Kipling. She knelt down at his side, pressing a corner of her apron into the wound at his shoulder.

“Way to go, Mrs. Francis!” Mimi said, pumping her fist in triumph.

“Indeed,” Mrs. Francis scolded. “That's no way for a lady to behave, Mimi. Help me get Mr. Kipling into bed.”

BACK ON SNOW MONKEY ISLAND
, now happily devoid of snow monkeys, Viggo ranted and raved. He marched back and forth, tugging at his greasy hair and cursing Hamish X.

“I'll kill him! I'll kill him. I'll hunt him down and kill him. If it's the last thing I ever do, I'll have my revenge. He's a thief! He stole everything from me. I'll kill him, I swear!” The pirates watched this display with a mixture of confusion and dread.

“This guy's got a lot of unresolved anger issues,” said one pirate.

“I agree,” said the man beside him. “But he might make a good replacement for Cheesebeard. He's got that homicidal rage that comes in handy in the pirate industry.”

Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet

As Viggo ranted and the pirates discussed his attributes, a helicopter rose above the edge of the volcanic crater. In the cockpit sat Mr. Sweet and Mr. Candy wrapped in grey parkas trimmed with grey fur.

“The subject performed remarkably well, Mr. Sweet,” said Mr. Candy. “His level of ingenuity and mental improvisation indicates that his development is on schedule.”

“Indeed, Mr. Candy,” Mr. Sweet nodded. “He is progressing well. I suggest we tie up this loose end and move on to the next level of the program. Integration is imminent. He is almost ready for harvesting. It's been a long time coming, but our goal is in sight.”

“Given a few more weeks with the book, he should be completely ripe.” Mr. Candy's face registered the slightest displeasure. “The only thing that disturbs me is the subject's emotional development. He is exhibiting a surprising level of psychological attachment to these friends of his. It may lead to disturbances in his information matrix.”

“We will have to be particularly meticulous when we perform the memory wipe before integrating him.”

“Agreed. Now, let us remove these witnesses and return to Providence HQ. Detonate the geothermal charge.”

Mr. Candy reached down and pushed a red button on the control panel of the helicopter. Deep in the mountain, a thunderous explosion smashed through layers of brittle volcanic rock, releasing the molten lava that had festered like an abscess for centuries beneath the surface. The explosion thundered on and on, rumbling up through the mountain as the volcano, dormant for many years, erupted violently.

“We'll head back to Providence. The Board will be eager for our report.” The helicopter peeled away as ash, rock, lava, and smoke blasted miles into the air. “We must prepare Mother for the Integration.”