Soon the airship was just a speck in the distance. The yacht cruised along leisurely at a steady ten knots. It was a high-performance skyacht, but no-one was in a great hurry to get back.
Ron and Skates tried to teach Chops how to play crackit:
“So, can I do that?” asked Chops, confusedly.
“Only if there’s a coot,” explained Ron.
“Or if it’s already feathered,” added Skates.
“You can put it back or take snails’ point,” said Ron.
“Unless there’s a draft from A to B,” clarified Skates.
“Can we play bingo again?” said Chops, exasperatedly.
Admiral Spicerack stood at the wheel, fiddling with his sextant, trying to check the yacht’s course. He was hoping the accordian-playing albatross would come back again and play some more hornpipes. Once a stormy petrel flew past and decorated the admiral’s hat.
“Oceanites oceanicus!” said Tusks, when he and Miss Wu had stopped laughing. Tusks was a keen ornithologist.
“Humph!” said the admiral.
A flock of grandfatherclock birds flew past.
“Wow!” said Tusks. He had only ever seen them in books and on teacards before.
“Avus horologium avis!” he muttered in amazement.
Then a very large Dalmatian pelican (Pelecanus crispus) landed heavily on the side of the yacht and asked if they had any clupeidae.
“What’s that?” asked the admiral.
“You know, clupidae!” repeated the pelican, jumping onto the deck.
“That’s sardines and pilchards,” interpreted Tusks, “and other smaller members of the herring family.”
“Oh, I see. Well, no, we don’t have any, I’m afraid,” said the admiral, politely, hoping that the pelican wouldn’t take offence and decorate his hat.
“Try the sea,” said Miss Wu, trying to help.
“Righto!” said the pelican, and it took off, causing the yacht to rock from side to side.
“So if the breeze is anti-clockwise, and I have two snails...” said Chops, “..then I can do this? Is that right?”
Ron and Skates looked at Chops’ position incredulously: “You’ve won!” they said.
“Beginner’s luck!” said Chops.
Admiral Spicerack spent a couple of minutes trying to clean up his hat and then picked up his telescope again. He was a bit puzzled. He was expecting to see the Sunday Afternoon volcano; the landmark from which he could get a bearing to take them back to the hotel. But it wasn’t visible.
Oh, guano... he thought. We’re lost!
© David Severn 2013
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