Short Story: Auburn Oceans

Short Story: Auburn Oceans

Captain Captin stood at the spout of his ship and savoured the smell of the savoury gravy air. They were making good time through the Bisto Baltics and would soon make it to the sweet corn colonies. And once there, a tidy profit was to be made in the trade of gold for green. He looked down with a feeling of pride, watching his steam-powered prowler power through the thick brown sludge below. A fine ship she was, the Icarus 13, and a fine day it was as well.

“Captain Captin! That damn crock has stolen me moustache again!”

“Did not, did not! And my name is Lincoln!”

The Captain sighed. If only he had a fine crew as well. He rounded on the two crew members behind him and shouted;

“Swab the deck with yer arses and sit down! I’ll have no feckless fools running amok on my boat!”

The two of them sat down, or in Lincoln’s case lay down, immediately. They knew the punishment for disobeying orders. Captain Captin strode over, his bleached white breeches dazzling in the sun, and surveyed the two.

“Well, out with it! What happened?”

“Well Captin…,” began Octoflague, whose moustache had apparently been stolen.

“That’s Captain Captin!” said Captain Captin.

“Sorry Captain Captin, Sir. Well, as you can plainly see, this crafty caiman has done stolen me nose piece, which as you know I needs as part of me ‘umble trade of concealment and disguise.”

“I see,” said the Captain “And what do you make of these charges levied against you, Lincoln?”

“I never done such a thing in my life Captin…,” cried Lincoln.

“Captain Captin!”

“I was just reading over some charts when all of a sudden I’m accused of theft!” The ships alligator navigator looked on the verge of tears.

“He’s talking twaddle Sir,” said Octoflague “Just look at ‘im and see.”

“Hmm,” said the Captain. “He has a point Lincoln. You do appear to be wearing a false moustache. If you’ll forgive me for saying so, but it’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

Lincoln tried to look innocent, and twiddle his tache nervously.

“Oh this old thing?” he said. “I grew it last week, as part of my new look.”

“He’s lyin’ sir! The cold blooded critter’s a liar!”

Captain Captin frowned;

“Yes, I was under the impression that as an alligator, a member of the Alligatoridae family and a reptile, you were unable to grow stylish facial hair. Well, am I wrong?”

This time, Lincoln did burst into tears, and his moustache quivered as he sobbed and sniffed.

“I just…wanted…to be…like you Captin.” he said, between great shudders.

“Captain Captin.” said Captin gently, and stroked his own stylish facial hair with casual pride.

“Don’t listin to ‘im, Sir!” said Octoflague. “Them tears be as fake as his hair, and twice as deadly.”

“That’s…crocodile….tears” sniffed Lincoln. “Alligator…tears…cure…impotence”

“Really?” said Captin. He pulled out a handkerchief and gently dabbed away at Lincoln’s eyes, crooning, “There, there.”

Lincoln smiled weakly, took the cloth and blew his nose so hard the moustache blew off into it. He handed it back to the Captain, who scowled and handed it to Octoflague.

“Besides,” said Lincoln, wiping away the last of his fertile tears. “He’s already got a moustache.”

“That’s a good point. Why do you need a fake moustache when you already have a real one?” asked the Captain suspiciously.

“Well Sir, I’m glad you asked. See it’s all part of me double disguise idea. See, I wears a really good disguise, and on top of that, I wears me a bad one. So when I get discovered and they make me reveal myself, I’ll still be in disguise! It’s sheer genius, ain’t it, Sir?”

Captain Captin sighed once again.

“Are we still on course, Lincoln?”

“Yessir!”

“And are all your disguises ready, Octoflague?”

“Yessir”

“Then bugger off and leave me alone!” cried the captain, taking off his tin cap and waving it at them.

The two of them fled below deck and Captain Captin smiled. He still had it. Just then, his first mate and most trusted friend in the world approached him. At least there was one person on board he could rely on.

“Ahoy, Judas Mutiny, you old scallywag!” he shouted in his first mates face.

“Ahoy, Sir” muttered Judas, scowling.

“A fine day eh? It makes me feel so alive!”

“Not for long”

“Eh?”

“I said I’m glad you’re not forlorn.”

“Ah, Judas, you know what your problem is?”

“Yes!” came the emphatic reply.

“You don’t speak up for yourself!” Captain Captin turned and leaned over the prow.

Judas looked at him. It would be so easy just to creep up behind him, like so. Then quietly take out his dagger, like this, and…

“Wait a tick! We’ve not heard from Moley yet. I bet that lazy bum is asleep!” Captain Captin whirled around and bawled up into the crow’s nest and Judas’s ear. “Moley! Is it all clear on the horizon?”

“As clear as day, Sir,” came the eventual sleepy reply.

“Good man!” Captain Captin looked down and saw the dagger. “Nice blade!” he said and took his own sword out with a flourish. “Mine’s bigger, but we’re a bit young to be comparing sizes.”

“Sir,” said Judas, putting his weapon away. “I’m not sure having a one-eyed hydrophobic mole as our look-out is entirely wise.”

“It’s that kind of linear thinking that keeps you first mate, first mate,” said Captain Captin. “By the way, have you ever seen Moley’s mole collection? There’s one on his back that’s shaped just like a mole!”

“Fascinating, Sir” said Judas. “Now, would you care for a drink?” He pulled out a water skin that just so happened to be full of deadly crocodile tears.

“Good man!” said Captain Captin. He pulled it to his mouth and was about to take a deep draught, when a voice from deck called out frantically;

“Mashburg dead ahead!”

The Captain whirled around once again and stared into the great white behemoth in front of him. It reared high and ugly, a malformed cloud with flayed skin draped across its figure. Captain Captin thrust the water skin back to his first mate.

“That damned mole must have mistaken it for a mirage. Sorry old friend, but the time for camaraderie is over. All hands on deck! All hands on deck!”

Hans appeared at once in front of the Captain and looked at him expectantly. He was silent but his psy-parrot on his shoulder squawked in a thick German accent, “Ja?”

“Damnit Hans! I said all hands on deck.”

Hans dutifully bent down and put his hands on the ground. Captain Captin responded with a swift kick to the rear and Hans’ panicked parrot took flight, squawking loudly;

“Ve are all going to die! Abandon das boot!”

Soon the whole crew was milling about in a panic, except for Judas who was trying to slink away in the small escape chip, and the captain who stood stock still and bellowed random orders.

“Save the cargo! Baton down the plank! Moley get down from there! Raise sail and drop anchor!”

Crucially the one order he failed to give was a change in course, and the Icarus 13 ploughed onwards straight at the marshburg. Seeing that doom was inevitable and drawing ever nearer, Captain Captin ran below deck, pushing Moley out the way and in the process, over the side. Fortunately for Moley he fell into the recently launched chip and even had a soft landing - on top of Judas.

The Captain emerged from below with fire in his eyes and a massive harpoon in his hands. He strode forward swift and sure, accidently catching Lincoln with the butt of his spear, who stumbled overboard and fell on to Judas. To the very spout of his gravy boat the Captain strode, and stared the great white monolith in its lifeless skin eyes.

“To the last I grapple with thee!” he cried “From hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last bit of spittle at thee!”

He threw the spear with all his might and it flew swift and true towards its target, where it landed with a small flump.

Unfortunately, it seemed to have no effect, and the mashburg remained, impassive as ever. The captain cursed; then seeing that the ship was about to make contact, he leaped over the side, landing in the chip and narrowly missing Judas. Judas breathed a sigh of relief, until both Octoflague and Hans followed the Captain‘s example and both landed on him.

“Cast off, me Hearties!” cried the Captain. “Before the engine goes and takes us with it!”

The crew grabbed the oars and began rowing as fast as they could away from the Icarus 13. The ship was slowly enveloped in the mashy mass until the steam funnel was blocked up. The whole thing began to shake violently.

“Faster! Faster!” cried the captain desperately. They paddled with all their might, but these Auburn Oceans are treacherous at the best of times, and the chip was in a particularly congealed part of its brown abyss.

Finally, the Icarus’s engines could take no more. There was a noise, not unlike a fart. The captain told everyone to get down, and the fart erupted into a full blown explosion. Mash was fired at high velocity in every direction, and the chip was violently thrown forwards into less viscous waters.

When everything had settled, Captain Captin raised his head cautiously. His ship was nowhere to be seen, and there was a huge hole in the mashburg.

“Damn and dash it all!” he declared. “Why does every vessel I command always end up at the bottom of the ocean plate?” He turned to survey his crew. “Everyone ok?” he asked.

A terrible wail went up in answer.

“My eye!” cried Moley.

“Mein hand!” squawked Hans (or at least his parrot did).

“My moustache!” complained Octoflague

“My goodness” said the Captain. “What a bunch of cry babies. Not one of you is as badly injured as my gallant first mate here” He patted Judas on the back, who winced painfully. “Why, with all those cuts and bruises, he looks like an entire crew fell on him! Yet there he was, thinking ahead and readying the escape chip for the rest of us.”

Captain Captin reached down and seized the water skin he had given back to Judas earlier. “I propose a toast” he said, holding the container aloft. “To Judas!”

And with that he took a deep drink of the deadly draught.

A sinister smile appeared on Judas’s face, and gradually evolved into malevolent laughter.

“Sorry my dear…Captin,” he said.

“Captain Captin,” Captain Captin reminded him.

“But this time, it’s mutiny!”

The Captain shrugged and smiled.

“Well if you prefer the toast to be in your surname…to Mutiny!”

He took another drink, blinked sluggishly and fell to the ground.

“No!” said Lincoln

“Mein Fuhrer!” squawked Hans’s parrot

“What’s going on?” cried the now totally blind Moley

“Why?” said Octoflague, facing Judas angrily. “Why’d you do it?”

“Why?” said Judas incredulously. “I’ll tell you why! Have you ever once made a safe voyage without some disaster striking? Have you ever even made it to shore with your cargo intact? Have you ever been paid?”

The crew was silent. The last question had struck a nerve.

“Face it,” spat Judas, his voice full of contempt. “That man was a worthless Captain and we’re better off without him.”

“But…but if Captin’s not Captain, then who will be?” Lincoln quavered.

“Well,” said Judas magnanimously. “I’m glad you brought that up. But before we make any decisions, let me give you all a gift. For you Moley, here is another eye patch, for your wounded eye.” He took off the captain’s eye patch and gave it to Moley.

“It matches my other one…maybe,” said Moley, putting it on.

“For you Hans, a hook hand” he wrenched the article from the captain’s arm socket and handed it to Hans.

“Das ist Gut!” squawked Hans’s parrot appreciatively.

“Octoflague, take this moustache, made from real captain hair.” Judas ripped out a large chunk of the Captain’s thick black hair and presented it to him.

“Cor, it feels so soft against me skin,” said Octoflague, stroking it gently.

“And dear Lincoln, how do you fancy being my first mate?”

“First mate?” Lincoln asked.

“A Captain needs a first mate,” said Judas smoothly.

“You want to be Captain?”

“Only if the crew wants me to.”

“Aye!” said Moley

“Ja!” squawked Hans’s parrot.

“Yep,” chipped in Octoflague.

Lincoln stared at his former Captain, whose face had gone ghastly pale, as if all the blood had drained from it. He looked so small and sad, lying there without his hair or hook or patch. Lincoln started to cry gently. He turned to Judas and through thick fat tears said;

“We might never have made much money nor had much luck, but the captain took us all in when no one else would. He split everything he ever had with all of us, even if it was just an old boot he had fished up. He cared about us. And you’ve killed him! You’ll have to kill me to.”

“Fair enough,” said Judas amiably, stealing the Captain’s sword and pointing it at Lincoln’s snout. He raised the blade above his head. “I always wanted a stuffed alligator.”

A small whistling sound caused him to pause and he looked up and squinted. Some long thin object was hurtling towards….

“Urgh!” he said, and died.

The crew stared in amazement. It was the Captain’s harpoon. The amazement deepened when the Captain opened his eyes and chuckled weakly.

“That first mate of mine spiked me with alligator tears again! All the blood ran to me plank and made me pass out. Don’t look too hard boys, I’m running at full mast. Now where is that old mucker of mine?”

He sat up and caught sight of Judas.

“Oh,” said Captain Captin.