The Fantastic Adventures of Lefty Feep, page 27
I don’t dare disobey. They stand there — Captain Kidd with his long hair and fat face and little glittering black eyes; Stede Bonnet with a face like an old mummy and long rat teeth gleaming; big Blackbeard with his red eyes glaring through a hairy jungle — and I am very unhappy about the whole thing. Since they find the treasure, the three of them are in high spirits. Being ghosts, this is understandable.
“I laugh every time I think of it,” Captain Kidd says, as we get under way again. “Our friend below will be half-crazy when we don’t show up with the treasure as the promise stands,”
“A capital jest,” Stede Bonnet agrees. “Gadzooks, what need has he of treasure? Acres of it down there.”
“We’re off to land,” Blackbeard smirks. “Land and rum. We’ll bathe in the stuff. And when we run through this swag, we’ll hunt more treasure.” He strides up to where Old Man Rivers is steering. “More speed,” he urges. “These newfangled steam engines on boats — can’t compare them with our sailing ships.”
“Take my Quedah Merchant,” Kidd says. “There’s a saucy vessel for you. I’ve not set foot on a ship for two hundred years and more. Ah —”
“Oh!” I correct him.
And “Oh!” it is. Because, looking over the port bow, I see something in the water ahead. It is long, and grey, and pointed. It rises form the water in a very rapid manner. One look and I recognize it. Two looks and I see the swastika on the side. “Look!” I yell. “A German submarine!” It is nothing else but. One of the Atlantic Coast U-boats, up for air.
“Submarine? What’s a submarine?” asks Captain Kidd.
“This is no time to get technical,” I gasp. “They’re going to sink us.”
“Sink my treasure? Damn their eyes, let them try it!” snarls Captain Kidd.
“But they have machine guns and torpedoes and —”
“What are they?” asks Stede Bonnet.
“You’ll find out,” I tremble.
“Bring ’em on,” Blackbeard grates.
Old Man Rivers stops steering. “I’m going down to shut off the engines,” he tells me. “They have us spotted all right. We can’t run for it. Best stand by and surrender when they come alongside.”
“Surrender? Never!” yells Blackbeard.
But when the submarine coasts closer the three ghost pirates get a look at the deadly metal prow and hull, at the gun turrets on the deck. They begin to appreciate what modern pirates can do. “Let’s go below,” suggests Captain Kidd, abruptly. “I don’t like this thing.”
They scuttle over into the houseboat cabin. Old Man Rivers comes back and joins me. “Now what do we do?” I ask.
He shakes his head and stares at the grey sides of the approaching U-boat. The water is draining off the decks, and it is so close we can see the drops splattering down. “What can we do?” whispers Old Man Rivers. “A houseboat can’t fight a German submarine. They’ll probably come aboard, search us, find the treasure, then sink us.”
“But we’ll drown!” I yell.
“Don’t you tell me you are ready to drown yourself yesterday?” snaps Old Man Rivers.
“Yes, but I change my mind.”
“Well, change it back again. Judging from the looks of this swab, well both taste salt water soon enough, and I don’t mean taffy.”
The “swab” he refers to is the guy who now steps out on the submarine deck. He is a big German bulldog, wearing an officer’s uniform. He is close enough to yell over.
“Surrender in the name of the Third Reich!” he yells, “or we will your boat gesink.”
“We are gesunk,” I whisper.
“Nothing else to do,” grumbles Old Man Rivers. “We surrender,” he calls to the submarine commander.
“Stand by and we will aboard gecommen,” barks the sausage in the uniform. Sure enough, we stand by while the submarine cruises alongside us. Pretty soon a whole crew of Nazis climb out on deck — probably to get a little fresh air. They look at the Floating Kidney and laugh and point and sneer. We stand there and take it. What else can we do?
Then they throw an iron ladder across from the side of the submarine deck to our deck and march over. The whole crowd of krauts comes across. “Heil Hitler!” snaps the commander, raising his arm like he wishes to leave the room.
“Hell Hitler,” Captain Rivers answers politely.
“We will now your boat gesearch,” he announces.
“Gesearch and be gedamned,” says Captain Rivers.
So a gang of Nazi sailors stamps off to the cabin where the steering wheel stands. “Oh, oh,” I mumble. “That’s where we put the treasure — remember?”
But it is too late to distract them. In a minute they are running out, jabbering German. The commander goes with them and pretty soon he comes out with a big smile. The rest of the Nazis come out with a big load — the treasure. They dump it on deck. “You carry a valuable cargo, hein, for a boat so small?” remarks the commander. “And what is in the other cabin?”
“Nothing at all,” says Captain Rivers. “No need to look there.”
“Aha!” yaps the commander. “More valuables you maybe gehaben.”
“You are mis-gestaken,” I yell.
“We will a look take,” he decides, with a leer. I do not leer. I know what is in the cabin. The three cowardly pirate ghosts. But the gang turns around, with the commander leading the way and goosesteps over to the cabin. The commander opens the door, grins, goes in. The rest of them pile after him.
“They will scare the ectoplasm right out of our pirate pals,” I mumble. “Suppose they are hiding under their bunks right now.”
All at once I get my ears split by a shriek. "Ach du Lieber!” yells a voice.
“Himmel!” comes another. "Doppelgangers!”
There is a rush and a roar, and the whole crew bursts out on deck again, running for dear life. And right behind them, waving their cutlasses and ready to cuttle with them, come Captain Kidd, Stede Bonnet, and Blackboard the Pirate. “Steal our treasure, will you, you black-gizzard spawn of a sparrow!” howls Blackboard. “Take that!” And he swoops his blade down on the commander, attacking him with a surprise thrust to the rear.
The commander does a quick flank movement around the deck.
“Thief!” screams Captain Kidd, lunging at a sailor. The Nazi pulls out a gun and fires. The bullet goes right through the smoky figure of Kidd. The Nazi goes through a convulsion fit. He runs.
Stede Bonnet is trying to strangle another sailor with his wig. “I’ll teach you to board a pirate ship,” he hollers.
“Ghosts and doppelgangers!’’ the sailors scream, racing around the deck. The pirates hop after them. Blackbeard is something terrific to see in action. He would make a good wrestler — he butts with his head, he uses his hips like a Conga dancer, and his beard stands up on end when he jumps at a sailor. His big cutlass swings like a pendulum. Pretty soon he has the whole crew in a corner.
I turn around and look at Stede Bonnet and Captain Kidd. They are leaning over the side of the rail doing something. Then they wheel and rejoin Blackbeard.
“Over the side with them!” Kidd yells. “Feed the fishes with the scum!” They drive the submarine crew around to where the iron ladder connects the two ships. The crew jumps up on the rail, ready to escape to the submarine. But when they get to the top of the rail, the ladder is gone. It seems Stede Bonnet and Captain Kidd drop it into the water. It is too late for the crew to do anything about it. The three fighting ghosts are hacking at them from behind, and they jump overboard.
“You too!” yelps Biackbeard, lifting the submarine commander by the naval base. He throws him down.
“Now!” sings out Stede Bonnet from the steering wheel. He is swinging the houseboat over — over towards where the Nazis are swimming in the water.
I close my eyes and ears for a minute. Then it is all over. The water is empty. And so is the submarine, drifting off on our port bow.
“That finishes those bloody pirates,” says Stede Bonnet. “And good riddance. Hessian dogs!”
“Stacking our treasure on deck to move it over the side,” sniffs Captain Kidd. “And into an outlandish tin boat, too! Those fools aren’t sailors.”
“Beats me,” Old Man Rivers remarks. “Just outside the harbor, too. Pretty bold.”
“Just outside the harbor?” echoes Captain Kidd. “You mean we’ll land soon?”
“Another few hours.” Old Man Rivers points off to the shoreline.
“Fine. We’ll take the treasure off and —” Captain Kidd stops. He is staring at us with a very curious expression. All at once he beckons to Blackboard and Stede Bonnet. They go into a huddle.
I nudge Old Man Rivers. “They are in a huddle,” I point out. “And something tells me we won’t like the signals they call.”
“That doesn’t worry me half as much as this,” answers Captain Rivers. He points up at the sky. Sure enough, from out of nowhere black clouds are swirling. A storm is coming up, but fast. A wind whips over the deck. The waves turn dark green, almost black. They rise high.
“Better get back to steering,” decides Old Man Rivers.
“Never mind.” Captain Kidd looks up and speaks.
“Why not?”
“We steer from here.”
“But why not let me steer?”
“Dead men don’t steer.”
“But I’m alive.”
“Not for long,” mutters Captain Kidd.
“What do you mean?” asks Old Man Rivers.
“I have another idea. To begin with, we are double-crossing our pal below by taking the treasure on land. So why not make the job complete by double-crossing you and making off with the boat, too?”
“Typical of Captain Kidd’s brilliant if undisciplined mind,” Stede Bonnet comments, with a wolfish sneer.
“Look,” mutters Blackbeard. “Here’s a plank.”
“Plank?” I mention. “Who needs a plank?”
“You do,” Blackbeard tells me. “You’re going to walk it.”
“Walk the plank? But I’ll drown!”
“That’s the general idea,” Captain Kidd chuckles. “Now, you two — line up!” he yells, suddenly making with his sword again.
Stede Bonnet and Blackbeard lay the plank over the rail and weight down the other end with the anchor and rope. “There’s a fine gateway to the bottom of the sea,’’ says Captain Kidd. “Have a nice trip.”
The boat is rolling and pitching now in the swells. The wind howls and Captain Kidd has to howl above it. “Out you go,” he shrieks, poking at me and Old Man Rivers with his sword.
“Steer, you fool!” screams Rivers, as the boat rocks.
“Never mind — you walk the plank first!” Captain Kidd’s face is as black as the storm. The three pirates stand behind us, silvery figures in the darkness. Their swords wave. I stand out on the plank and shiver. The water yarws below.
“Hurry up and jump!” calls Blackbeard. “And say hello to our friend down below. Tell him we couldn’t bring him back any treasure.” He laughs like a wolf above the howling waves. It is a moment I do not forget. The black sky is above me and the black sea is below me. The three gleaming pirate ghosts are behind me, shoving me along the plank.
“Jump!” snarls Captain Kidd, slashing at me with his buccaneering manicure-set.
Then it happens.
The thunder roars, the boat lurches, and the three pirates turn around — but too late. The treasure that the Nazis drag out on deck is sliding over. The five chests crash into the rail — and through the rail. “Bleach my bones!” screams Blackbeard. He dives for the chests. They sail gracefully through the splintered railing and go kerplunk into the water.
“He’s taking our treasure!” yells Captain Kidd. “He’s double-crossing me, William Kidd! It’s an outrage.”
All three of the pirates lean over the side of the boat and stare at the swelling water while the chests sink. Old Man Rivers and I see our chance and jump off the plank. With the boat lurching and pitching and tossing, we can hardly keep our feet. The storm is really on, now.
While the three pirates hang on the rail, I get busy. I loosen the plank we are supposed to walk. I wait for the boat to swing it around. Then I yell at Kidd, Bonnet, and Blackbeard. They are much too occupied to pay attention to me. Which is just what I want.
While they hang on to the rail, I hang on to my loose plank. I aim it carefully at the three silvery figures of the pirate ghosts. And when the boat gives the proper lurch, I let it go. It swings across the deck and smacks. Hard.
Blackbeard, Bonnet, and Captain Kidd sail up over the rail and drop into the water. There is a single squawk, another bolt of lightning and crash of thunder, and the swashbuckling spirits are gone below the waves, following the treasure. Old Man Rivers takes the steering wheel ready to wrestle with the elements. But the funny part of it is, right after the pirates leave us, the storm dies down. We make port in about an hour.
“I never see a storm like that one,” Old Man Rivers says, shaking his head.
“There is a lot you never see before on this voyage,” I remind him. “Three ghost pirates, a buried treasure, a battle with a submarine, and a near yank at walking the plank.”
“But that storm,” mutters Old Man Rivers. “It bothers me.”
“It bothers the pirates more,” I reply. “You know, I think I figure it out.”
“How?” inquires Rivers.
“Well, remember Captain Kidd tells us he and his pals come back as ghosts by special permission from their pal below? They are going to find this treasure and then take it back and divide it up?”
“Right.”
“Only they double-cross their pal below.”
“Also right.”
“So he double-crosses them. He makes the storm come up and gets the treasure to drop in the water. Also he probably helps me knock those three thugs back into the sea.”
“But who is he?”
“Who else could he be but Davy Jones himself?” I decide. “The pal of pirates, you know. A guy with lots of treasure at the bottom of the sea, but one who wants more. And seeing as how our three freebooters get buried at sea, he can raise them up again. Also he can pull them down. Which he does.”
“So he raises a storm, eh?” says Old Man Rivers.
“Absolutely. He must know the pirates’ secret — because without the storm I couldn’t knock them overboard. Anyhow it’s all over. The treasure is now where it belongs — in Davy Jones’ locker.”
Lefty Feep shrugged and stood up. “Is it not a misfortune?” he asked.
“You mean your not drowning yourself after all?”
“No — I mean losing the treasure.”
“Right. But Lefty, one thing I don’t understand.”
“Yes?”
“Well, you say you knocked all three of these pirate ghosts overboard with one blow. I agree it could be done with a plank, but I don’t see why those tough guys didn’t resist you. Why didn’t they put up a fight?”
Feep winked. “That’s where Davy Jones must help me,” he explained. “Because he knows the pirates’ secret. They are ghosts and have not sailed the seas in hundreds of years. So he merely sends the storm and they cannot fight me then.”
“Why couldn’t Captain Kidd and his buccaneers fight you in that storm?” I persisted.
“Because they are not used to storms anymore,” Feep told me. “Those pirates are utterly helpless when I attack them.”
“Why?” I yelled.
Lefty Feep looked me square in the eye without a blush.
“Seasickness,” he whispered.
Lefty Feep and the Racing Robot
April 1943
Jack’s Shack was almost empty the other night, and so was I. I ordered a stack of wheat cakes and began to wade into them with a knife, fork, and lots of gusto. Somewhere between the fourth and fifth wheat cake I suddenly noticed a human thumb. The thumb wriggled up and down, pressing the fifth wheat cake back on the plate.
A voice assailed my ears. “Send back the platter — don’t eat this batter.” I raised my head quickly and stared. Lefty Feep was standing at the side of my table. The tall, angular indoor sportsman was grinning broadly.
“Lefty Feep!” I exclaimed. “You’re a sight for sore eyes!”
And he was. Feep was wearing a creation designed to make anybody’s eyes sore. A checkered overcoat, striped pants, and polka-dot spats37 hung on his frame, reading from top to bottom. He was carrying a huge cigar, and as I looked, he puffed fifty cents worth of smoke into my face.
“Do not make with the cakes,” Feep insisted, pushing my plate aside. He signalled for a waiter.
“Me and my friend here wish a few pounds of caviar,” he ordered.
The waiter’s mouth hung open.
“Also tell the chef to go out and catch a couple hummingbirds by the tongue. Female hummingbirds — they are more delicate, if you follow me.”
The waiter followed, with a sarcastic grin. “Caviar and hummingbirds’ tongues you say? I suppose you want some champagne, too, with a little Chinese lettuce on the side — you mooching bum!”
Lefty Feep disregarded the criticism. “Champagne is a good idea,” he nodded. “But forget us with the lettuce. I got plenty of lettuce right here.”
Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a big wad of bills. The waiter retreated as Feep sat down next to me. “Quite a roll you’ve got there,” I remarked.
“Sure,” said Feep. “It looks good even without butter.”
Curiosity got the better of me. “Where in the world did you make all this money?” I demanded.
Feep shrugged. “It’s in the bag with a nag.”
“How?”
“My hay starts to pay.”
“What do you mean, in English?’"
“I win a horserace,” he explained.
“But I thought you usually lost on the races,” I remarked.
“Usually I do,” admitted Lefty Feep. “In fact up to recently I figure the only way I can clean up on a horse is to become a street-sweeper.”
