“Lost?!” said Miss Wu, when Admiral Spicerack stopped the skyacht and informed everyone of the the logistical error.
“How lost, exactly?”
“Exactly completely lost, I’m afraid,” said the admiral. “We should have been able to see the Sunday Afternoon volcano by now, but it’s nowhere to be seen.”
“And how did we get so lost?” asked Tusks.
“I think that big, gallumping pelican knocked us out of whack,” said the admiral. “Great big thing - you felt the yacht rock when it landed and took off!”
“Mmm... Yes, Pelecanus crispus - a very big, heavy bird. So what are we going to do?!” said Tusks anxiously.
“Another game of crackit?” said Chops. Either the dinosaur didn’t understand the gravity of the situation, or it had discovered the art of gamesmanship.
“Err, maybe later, Chops,” said Ron.
Everyone went to the sides of the yacht and looked out, desperately squinting to try to catch sight of the volcano in the bright sunlight, but there was no sign of it. It was very warm now, and everyone was suddenly feeling very thirsty.
“How much water have we got?” asked Miss Wu.
“Half a bottle,” said the admiral. “And one packet of crisps; cheese and onion, I think. I’m afraid.. “
“It’s hot down there!” said Wildmouth, coming up on deck after having a lie down in the cabin. He seemed to have forgotten about his embarrassing performance on the Aerobot stage. “Hot up here too!” he said. “Are we nearly there yet?”
“We’re lost!” said Miss Wu.
“Lost?!” said Wildmouth. “Stop pulling my tail! Ha-ha! Lost! Ha-ha-ha!”
Wildmouth ran up to the bows and flung out his arms dramatically: “Oh, woe are we!” he hammed. “How shall we find our way home?”
“Wildmouth!” shouted Tusks. “Stop it! We really are lost!”
“Oh, pathos!” the lion continued to his imaginary audience, lifting his paw to his forehead and making sobbing noises. And then he turned around to face his real audience; all presenting disapproving looks, except Chops, who was giggling.
”What? ... We really are lost?!” said Wildmouth.
“Completely lost - hic!” said the admiral, sucking from a decanter of port through a straw.
“And the yacht’s on fire as well?” asked Wildmouth.
“Don’t be silly!” said Tusks, mopping sweat from his brow with a large handkerchief.
“What’s that, then?” said Wildmouth. “Behind you..”
They all looked around.
“Great Scott of the Tock-tick!” exclaimed the admiral. “We’re ablaze!”
© David Severn 2013