King Dong

Ray let out an even higher-pitched squeal of laughter. The Captain’s glass shattered in his hand.

‘Ooh you’re soooo naughty. I’m so looking forward to dressing you. I’ll just go and lay on some chiffon …’

‘Sure,’ drawled Ann. ‘Knock yourself out.’

‘… and then I’ll come and find you. Don’t go away now.’

Ann watched him go with pursed lips. ‘Who’s the squirt?’

‘Ray? He’ll be dressing you for the movie,’ Deadman told her. ‘He’s a wizard with a needle and thread. Back in Hollywood they call him Fey Ray.’

‘I can imagine. But who says I’m goin’ on this cruise to nowhere?’

Deadman smiled the smile of the shark he was. ‘Doesn’t the sight of Dong make you kinda curious?’

The memory of the crudely drawn picture flickered to the forefront of Ann’s mind. ‘Maybe,’ she admitted. ‘But let me get this straight – you’re askin’ me to spend weeks on a beat-up old ship, the only female on board, with dozens of sailors, gawpin’ and lustin’ after me and watching my every move? What sort of goil do you think I am?’

‘An actress.’

‘OK, OK.’ She held up her hands. ‘Ya persuaded me. But what’s this cargo the old seagull keeps yabberin’ on about? Contraband, he said.’

‘I’m not saying anything.’ Deadman glared at the Skipper. ‘And neither is he. ’Cause if he doesn’t keep quiet, then the authorities might find out what really happens at those fish finger parties he throws.’

A guilty, fear-stricken look flickered across Rumbuggery’s white-bearded face. ‘You can’t prove nothin’.’

Ann stood up. “Well if I’m joinin’ this crazy ship I need showin’ to my suite.’

The Skipper stared. ‘Suite? Oh, sure, suite.’

‘Yeah. I gotta powder my nose.’

‘Huh?’ The Skipper stared at Deadman, who closed off one nostril with his index finger in order to mime snorting up some powdered substance …

Ann stamped her foot. ‘I mean I want to take a crap, only I was too ladylike to say so, OK?’ She turned her back on Deadman.

‘Classy broad,’ muttered Deadman under his breath. Raising his voice, he added, ‘Skipper, maybe you could get someone to show Miss Darling to her suite.’

Rumbuggery staggered to the door and hailed a passing crewman. A young, well-muscled, long-limbed, lithe figure dressed in a tight-fitting sailor suit stepped into the doorway.

Rumbuggery introduced the seaman. ‘Roger the cabin boy.’

Ann eyed the creature standing before her. ‘Is that his name or an invitation?’ She turned to Deadman. ‘Things are looking up. Maybe this cockamamie cruise won’t be so bad after all.’ She gave Roger a full-on dazzling smile. ‘Hello there. Come on up to my place – wherever that is. Lead on.’ She gave Roger a pat on the backside. ‘I’m Ann, but you can call me Darling.’ She winked outrageously at Deadman. ‘Don’t wait up, mother, I’m going outside and I could be some time. If you hear me scream, stay the hell out.’

Deadman and the Captain watched Ann and Roger leave. Rumbuggery’s lips were pursed. ‘I still shtand by what I shaid – this is a foolhardy mission, based on the word of a mind-ravaged lost soul. Itsh dangerous and no place for a woman. A woman’sh place is in the home, peeling potatoesh, whitewashing the coal cellar and taking spidersh out of the bath.’

Deadman raised an eyebrow. ‘I think Miss Darling’s place is in a cat’s home.’

‘I don’t think much of women on shipsh.’ Rumbuggery took a long pull from his bottle. ‘Truth be told, I don’t think much of women at all. The love of my life ish thish.’ He tapped his bottle. ‘And my ship – better than a woman any day.”

‘How come?’

‘Shipsh never need yet another pair of shoesh. Shipsh never ask if their bow is too wide or if their rigging is sagging. You can rent a ship to others by the day and you can tie up a ship without it ever complainin’!’

Deadman shook his head. A leading lady with the morals of a degenerate baboon, a rum-sodden old sea-dog in command and a dresser more camp than a scout jamboree. He sighed. It was going to be a long voyage …

CHAPTER THREE A Motley Crew (#ulink_6310dda7-cb68-5a45-8d63-bb34dfdba180)

The ship rang with orders.

‘Cast off fore – cast off aft.’

‘Aye aye, Skipper.’

‘Let go the stays, Mister Decktennis.’

‘Ooh, thank you, sir – they were killing me.’

‘’Ware that bucket, Sloppy.’

‘If you insist, Skipper, but I don’t think it’ll suit me.’

‘Avast behind, Mister Hawsehole!’

‘Well, there’s no need to be personal.’

‘Weigh the anchor, Mister Obote.’

‘Five and a half tons, sir.’

‘That’s enough sarcasm from you, Mister Obote. Mister Dogsdinner, clear the harbour and steer sou’ sou’ east.’

‘Sho’ sho’ thing, Skipper.’

Coughing like a tuberculosis ward, the rickety vessel limped its way towards open water in a haze of black smoke. A spasm of foreboding crossed Captain Rumbuggery’s grizzled face. ‘And may God have mercy on us all.’

Deadman breezed onto the bridge. ‘So we’re under way at last, Skipper.’

The Captain gave him an unfriendly look. ‘Yes, though I can’t say I’m happy to be setting sail on this fool’s errand. This is an ill-fated ship with an ill-fated crew. I’m mortally certain there’s a curse upon us all.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘An albatross just crapped on my head.’ The Captain removed his filthy cap and stared mournfully at the newly deposited guano. ‘I’m going below. If anyone wants me, I’ll be in an alcoholic stupor.’

Deadman watched the departing captain out of sight and shook his head. The Skipper had the jitters: well, Deadman couldn’t exactly blame him. The voyage they had embarked on would be enough to try any man’s courage.

Still, there’d be no room on this ship for milksops and weaklings. Deadman squared his shoulders. It was time he checked on the crew.

The light faded as the movie man made his way into the bowels of the ship, along dimly-lit corridors whose walls glistened with moisture. The air throbbed with the arthritic beat of the engines; from behind the walls came the furtive scrabbling of rats and the less wholesome sound of off-duty crew members removing each others’ gold fillings. Deadman reached the crew’s mess. He stepped over the mess, wondering why a bunch of grown men couldn’t manage to make it to the can in time. Squaring his shoulders, he flung open the door.