Fog Ship Fear Trip!
1
‘What’s that?’ my twin sister Rose says, looking towards the front of the boat and suddenly sounding worried.
‘What?’ I turn and look around.
We are on board a pirate ship, the Jelly Roger. It’s not a real pirate ship, it isn’t big enough and it has pretend masts, a skull & crossbones flag fluttering in the breeze and two creepy skeletons sitting on deckchairs. The captain, who is called Kevin, is wearing old pirate clothes and called us all ‘me hearties!’ when we got on board. Kevin has a thick grey beard, a huge gold earring and, on his arm, a sick tattoo of a shark in a party hat. He tells us that the two skeletons are old crew members called Knucklehead and Napoleon Bone-apart.
Yeah, OK.
Like we’re kids so we believe anything.
Our boat’s engine is phut-phut-phutting as we cross the harbour. Above us there are seagulls chasing each other across a bright blue sky and, in the hot splash sunshine and the tongue-wrapped ice creams and crispy chewy chips, the afternoon yawns happily.
Another beautiful day in Whitby. Wednesday the 16th of August 2024.
But where Rose is looking, toward the sea beyond the two lighthouses and the harbour jaws, everything is pretty weird.
The world just vanishes in a blanket of thick fog!
One of the adults, an old lady with purple hair, big sunglasses and a silly pirate hat, is shouting at Captain Kevin.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ he shouts back good- naturedly. ‘Just a sea fret.’
‘A what?’ the woman asks
‘That. The fog on the sea,’ says Captain Kevin. ‘It’s called a fret. There’s often a fret in Whitby. We will be out on the other side of it and back in the sunshine in no time at all.’
Behind the captain, at the back of the boat, the two skeletons grin stupidly.
Up on the pier three boys are fishing. One of them waves at us. Rose and I wave back
‘What if we aren’t?’ the lady asks Captain Kevin. ‘What if the fret doesn’t clear?’
Before the captain can answer her we are passing through the harbour jaws. The boat is tossed back and forth as it hits the waves and then everything disappears as we enter the fret … the piers, the café where Mum and Dad are sitting, the lighthouses, the harbour, everything. Even the sea disappears except the choppy spray that slaps the side of the boat and splashes up in our faces.
It is suddenly quite cold and a lot darker than before. Captain Kevin flicks a switch and lights come on in the boat. The six grown-up passengers and two little kids leave their seats at the front of the boat and join the captain in the covered section.
As if it’s any warmer under the tin roof!
Adults can be so dumb.
The engine is still running and the boat is rocking about but I am not sure we are going anywhere. The passengers are quiet. We are all looking around at nothing and hoping that the captain is right and that we will simply pop out of the fret or the fog or whatever it is called and be back in hot summer sunshine.
A happy sea shanty is playing on the loudspeakers.
Heave-ho – We’ll meet our fate
With lots of rum and pieces of eight
They’ll never tell how much we drank
With heads held high we’ll walk the plank
… but no one complains.
Captain Kevin holds the ship’s wheel, whistles along to the music and stares straight ahead.
And that’s when the first bad thing happens.
2
Something big hits the boat from below, so hard that one of the grown-ups shrieks.
We all look around nervously.
‘I’m scared,’ says Rose.
‘So am I,’ I admit, grabbing her hand and holding it tightly.
‘What a couple of babies,’ says a voice behind us. He looks about the same age as us, ten or eleven years old. He has messy red hair and freckles and is wearing a t-shirt that reads:
ADMIT IT
I am a genius
Tucked into the belt of his trousers, the self- declared genius has a silly plastic pirate’s sword and pistol
‘Probably just a killer whale. You two must still be at primary school,’ he sneers.
‘No, we’ve left,’ I tell him. ‘We’re starting high school in September.’
The boy looks at us, as if he is deciding something.
‘Oh, same as me,’ he says finally. ‘Hi, I’m Harry Bluebeard.
‘Oh good,’ Rose says. ‘I’m Queen Elizabeth the First and this is my twin sister, the world-famous nurse Mary Seacole.’
‘Ha ha, very funny,’ says Harry. ‘So what are your real names?’
‘You first,’ I say.
A pause.
‘Harry Lawson.’
‘Hi Harry. I’m Mia and this is my twin sister Rose.’
‘Is it your first trip alone on a boat out at …’ Harry starts, but before he can finish his sentence the boat is hit again.
The second smack judders the boat and throws Harry on his back. He rolls about rubbing the back of his head screaming ‘Aaaaaaargh!’ though it is obvious that he isn’t really hurt.
‘Maybe you should try sitting down,’ Rose suggests
‘Maybe you should try shutting up,’ Harry grins.
‘She’s only trying to help,’ I tell him.
‘If I need help, I’ll talk to the captain and not to a couple of useless landlubbers,’ Harry says.
‘What was that?’ shouts someone on the other side of the boat.
‘It had this huge fin!’ says someone else. ‘I think it was a shark.’
‘What? A great white?’ says a man in a rude t-shirt that reads ‘If I want your *** opinion I’ll ask for it’. He has red hair like Harry’s.
‘We’re all about to be someone’s lunch,’ the man snarls in a dramatic growly voice like a pirate. ‘Oi, Harry, come over here and sit down.’
‘That really isn’t clever,’ says the woman in the funny pirate hat. ‘There are children on board.’
‘You won’t need to worry then,’ laughs the red- haired man. ‘They always eat the little ones first. Harry, do I have to tell you twice?’
Harry climbs to his feet, looking cross. He glances at us, sticks his tongue out and walks back across the boat to join his dad under the tin roof.
The third big smack doesn’t come from below, it comes from the side. And this time we do see what hits us.
We have been hit by a tall wooden wall made of planks that are curved and stuck one on top of the other, like the sides of our garden shed at home.
Only much much bigger.
Our boat has hit the wall so hard that the engine has conked out. And the music has stopped too.
So not all bad.
We sit in silence, bobbing about on the water, lost in the fret.
‘It was your stupid idea to come on this boat ride,’ I say to Rose, to cheer her up.
‘Yeah, right. Not.’
‘Please can we go and see the dolphins, Mum, while you and Dad have a cup of coffee? That’s what you said.’
‘So?’
A splash right beside us makes us both jump. ‘WHAT WAS THAT?’ I say, shuffling along the bench to get further away from the water.
‘Whatever it was it was dark and huge and full of luminous teeth,’ Rose says.
I grab her arm nervously. ‘NOOOOOO!’
Rose grins. ‘Gotcha!’
‘I’m serious,’ I snap. ‘What was it? Did you see anything? What is the captain doing?’
The captain has found a long metal pole and is using it to push us gently away from the wooden wall.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry,’ says the large woman in a pretty yellow dress who doesn’t sound at all sorry. ‘Excuse me. I’m sorry. Are you listening?’
The captain isn’t listening.
‘I know how to get his attention,’ says the angry- looking old man in a flat cap. ‘Hey, Captain Ahab. If we don’t get out of this fog in two minutes you are going to give us back our money.’
He turns back to yellow dress woman. ‘That’ll sort him.’
Flat cap man looks like our school caretaker. In our old school when we were still little kids, of course, we haven’t met the new one yet.
The captain lowers the pole, turns toward us and puts his finger to his lips.
‘Shhhh!’ he says, pointing upwards. ‘They’ll hear us.’
‘Who will hear us?’ demands the old man.
The captain rolls his eyes. ‘Just stay quiet,’ he hisses. ‘Please.’
And that is when the second bad thing happens.
A sword drops out of the sky and the point slams into the deck like an arrow.
Shhhhhhwack!
3
…. The blade and the handle wobble back and forth.
Doi ….. oi …. oi … oi .. oi .. ong
Right where people were sitting a few moments ago.
And not any old sword, one with a long sharp curved blade that gleams. No one speaks. Rose is grinding her teeth together. She does that when she is really scared or angry.
The captain has the long pole in his hands and is straining every muscle to push our boat away from the wooden wall.
‘Isn’t the captain going to pick that up that … that thing?’ says the woman in the yellow dress, pointing at the sword. ‘I’m really quite cross now. I’m sorry, but that is frankly dangerous.’
The problem isn’t really the sword. I mean it is a problem, obviously, but the real problem is where did it come from? Swords don’t just fall out of the sky.
‘Let’s get under the roof with everyone else,’ Rose whispers.
She drags me to my feet and we join the others under cover. My legs are like jelly. As we find safety, Harry darts out and grabs the sword and tries to pull it out of the deck. It is stuck in hard, and Harry goes red in the face pulling the sword to and fro. All at once it pops out and he falls backwards onto the deck. Eyes as big as yoyos, he picks himself up and turns the sword over in his hands.
‘Oh, wow! This is soooooo cool! It’s like a pirate’s cutlass. It’s even got that wicked curve for slashing people’s throats,’ Harry says, waving the sword above his head.
From the face he is pulling, the sword is pretty heavy.
‘Get back here now,’ Harry’s dad shouts.
We all put our fingers to our lips and hiss Shhhhhhhh.
Harry takes the plastic sword he has tucked into his belt and drops it on the deck. He replaces it with the real sword which is so long that it scrapes along the floor as he walks towards us.
The parents with the two little kids look really nervous. In fact, everyone looks nervous, except the large woman in the yellow dress, Harry’s dad, and the old man in the flat cap. They just look cross.
‘Do you think someone on the pier threw the sword?’ Rose asks.
‘That would be a very stupid thing to do,’ says the woman in the yellow dress. ‘I am beginning to wonder if they have police in Yorkshire like we do in Surrey. I’m sorry, but I have a good mind to …’
She stops mid-sentence as something else lands on the deck with a loud bang. We all jump back then lean forwards to get a look.
It’s a stick with a funny wooden cup on the end.
It rolls and wobbles back and forth a few times then stops.
One of the little kids starts to cry.
The captain is still pushing us away from the wooden wall with his long pole. We are now two metres away. Gentle waves are rippling along the boat and somewhere in the fog, high high above us, seagulls are shouting.
And that is when the third bad thing happens.
It starts with an ugly groan and, moments later, a massive splash.
4
There is someone in the water, mumbling and grumbling and thrashing about. I can’t understand a word they are saying but they don’t sound happy. Above our heads we hear laughter and then something else.
‘It’s a ship, isn’t it?’ Rose says. ‘That’s not a wall, it’s the side of an old ship!’
‘That thing in the sea will drown,’ someone shouts. ‘Is there a lifebelt we can toss into the water?’ Captain Kevin drops his long pole and runs to the middle of the boat where he tries to start the engine.
The engine sputters phut phut phut phut and dies. The captain tries again.
Phut phut phut phut phut …
‘Start, damn you!’ the captain mutters, slamming his hands on the wheel.
He cranks the engine again.
Phut phut phut …
It just won’t start.
‘Look!’ says someone, pointing at the side of our boat.
A huge hand has grabbed the gunwale (that’s the top bit of the side of the boat. We learned that at school.)
‘Right. That’s enough,’ says the old man with the flat cap. ‘Turn this pile of junk around,’ he orders the captain. ‘I’m getting off and you are giving me my money back.’
‘Can’t you see the boat won’t start?’ says Harry.
‘When I want your opinion, lad, I’ll ask for it.’
A second hand grabs the gunwale.
‘Mum!’ shouts a little voice.
Phut phut phut phut …
The next thing that happens isn’t very loud so nobody notices at first.
Except the captain, who covers his eyes with his free hand and sighs sadly.
Ropes are dropping down from the top of the wooden wall, or the ship or whatever it is.
I am starting to have a really bad feeling about all this. What are the ropes for? Who is in the water? Who dropped a sword and the stick with the cup? We should be out looking for dolphins by now, the boat trip is only meant to last forty minutes. Is this all some trick, like a ghost train or something? Do the others all know about it? Is it just me and Rose and the little kids who are really worried? Mum and Dad are going to ground us when we get back, I just know it.
A face appears over the side of the boat. A huge angry face with wild wet hair, a long scar on one cheek, dark eyes and a straggly beard.
The face smiles to reveal a mouth with only five teeth in it, all of them dirty and brown.
Yellow dress woman shrieks. ‘You can’t let that on board! For goodness’ sake. Look at him! We’ll all catch fleas or … something dreadful and … look, I’m sorry but this is completely unacceptable.’
‘It’s too late,’ says the captain.
‘What do you mean, it’s too late?’ asks Harry’s dad. ‘What’s too late?’
I know that I have said that just three bad things have happened so far and you are thinking Mia can’t count. She shouldn’t be on holiday, she should be at summer school learning her numbers.
In my defence, I am trying to keep calm and trying to stop you panicking. Yes, you with your eyes glued to this page! If I actually added up all the bad things that have happened in the past few minutes I would already have gone crazy with fear and so would you. And how would that help anyone
So …
… the fourth bad thing happens.
(Don’t even think of interrupting me!)
It’s a kind of double bad thing because suddenly three sets of heavy boots are sliding down the ropes that are hanging on the wooden wall. And the boots are being followed by three bodies.
Oh, all right, it’s not a wall, it is a huge wooden ship. There, I’ve said it. Rose is right.
And … the wet man with the straggly beard, the scar and the missing teeth is hauling himself up onto the Jelly Roger!
Several of the grown-ups are shouting or screaming at the captain to do something.
‘I’m scared,’ says Rose, gripping my arm.
‘Oh, my God, they are real pirates!’ shrieks the old lady, throwing her pretend pirate hat away, in case someone thinks she is part of the gang.
The first man falls over the gunwale and rolls across the deck towards the stick with the cup, grunting and groaning as he goes. Half of one of his legs is missing. When he reaches the stick, he puts what is left of his left leg into the cup. And suddenly we all understand.
It’s his wooden leg!
We are all so busy watching the man put his leg on that we don’t notice the others reach the end of their ropes, drop into the water, swim across to our boat and climb onboard.
Until it is too late.
‘Now then,’ says one of the wet men, in a deep voice, as he climbs to his feet.
He is huge. His dirty leather coat is ripped in several places. His trousers look like they might have been white … a very very long time ago.
Beside him is a short man with a drooping moustache. A red jacket stretches tightly over his big belly. The golden buttons could pop at any moment.
Beside the man with the belly is a woman with black hair, bright blue eyes, a long green dress, and big boots.
The three of them stand there dripping onto the deck.
We are all too frightened to speak.
‘I see you’ve all met Rupert,’ the big man says, pointing at the man with one leg. He turns to his two accomplices. ‘Pick him up.’
The other two pirates, if they are pirates, cross the deck and help Rupert to his foot. Rupert seems confused and perhaps more than a little bit drunk.
‘I am George, captain of the Moon Sail. We were just having a bit of fun,’ the big man explains, ‘and it got out of hand.’
‘You could have killed someone,’ says yellow dress woman. ‘Swords are dangerous weapons. I’m sorry, but I think you should apologise and …’
Captain George gives her a fierce look that shuts her up, then he turns towards the captain of our boat.
‘Afternoon, Kevin,’ says George. ‘You’ve a motley crew again. I am surprised you dare venture out upon the waves. There’s more brains and courage in Rupert’s left leg than in this bunch of waifs, misfits and riffraff. Have the press gangs taken all the able-bodied men in Whitby?’
‘Are you pirates?’ Harry asks, unable to keep silent a moment longer.
‘You would talk to me directly, impudent pup?’ George shouts. ‘Captain Kevin, slap this little runt in irons! And you,’ he points at Harry, ‘give Rupert back his sword.’
Harry scowls and looks at his dad.
‘NOW,’ George demands
‘Don’t you talk to my son like that.’ Harry’s dad says, standing up to face Captain George.
Eyes gleaming like a hungry tiger’s, George grabs the handle of the knife tucked into his belt. The blade makes a whistling noise as it is pulled from its scabbard. George takes two steps towards Harry’s dad.
