The Measure of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 6) (10 page)

“There is no way there, mon, which is very good I think, ho, ho, ho!”

“Ho, ho, ho!”

“If there is no way from the central northern plain to this side of the island, then how does Sku Le’Bizarre travel from his plantation house on the plain, to the seaside port on the other side of the mountains? Is this not where the rum is manufactured? How is it transported, Monsieur Jean-Trevour?”

“Through a cave, Monsieur Kit Oldbean, the
‘Craven Cavern’
, That cave runs the entire width of the mountain range underneath Mount Miseriaiaia. This cave is said to be many miles in length. Part of the cave is naturally formed, and part is said to be enhanced by Sku Le’Bizarre’s zombie slaves for easier movement of product, but as no-one living ever goes inside, we are unsure of its details.”

“Any chance of our being able to dash through, while there are no cannibal corpses about, eh, hem?”

“Hee, hee, I do not think so, Monsieur! There are always lots of the restless cadavers around, don’t you know, mon.”

“I say, would a seaside assault be in order? An amphiboid landfall, so to speak. Since the mountains are impassable, then perhaps we may get to this isolated location by coming ashore in the wide Cape formed between this island’s goat horn-like projections.”

“I do not think so, Mademoiselle, for the jagged rocks of that cove are a ship and boat graveyard. Any craft would be dashed to pieces long before getting close to land. Hee, hee, hee!”

“Hee, hee, hee!”

“Plus all the sharks, Mademoiselle! Sharks, sharks, sharks!”

“Sharks, sharks, sharks!”

“Eh hem, yes, I see. Tell me is there
really
no way to approach this fearsome valley by land other than the Mount Miseriaiaia Craven Cavern, eh, hem? Is there no way we could cross over the mountains somewhere?”

“We-e-e-ell, there is an old wives’ tale of a way that leads to a fabled mountain pass, but nobody believes it. Besides, the access to this access is inaccessible, even if the pass itself existed, which of course it does not.”

“What is this inaccessible access to a fabled pass that no one believes in?”

“This is said to lie in a cursed place! High on the mountainside of Mount Agonia, this once grand city is now long forgotten and abandoned. The city was built by the Portuguese expedition of 1547. San Monique had a strange effect upon that city’s colonists. A plague of decadence seduced the settlement with its slithery grasp. The people of this towering town fell to evil, wicked, and slothful ways. They perished for their debauchery and misdeeds! No one has gone near it in centuries!  Since the time of its demise, sometime in the mid sixteen fifties, I am thinking, ghosts of its naughty inhabitants wander the streets, in search of living humans that they may dine on their life-full flesh. It is rumoured that a path leading into the Northern plain rests at the top of the city, but a ‘passkeeper’ there bars the causeway to any but the truly righteous. The name of this city of death is,
‘Necropopodopolis’
.”

“Oye don’t thinks Oye loikes the sound o’ this Necropopodopolis, let’s ’ave a go at the zombie cave, eh?”

“Consulting our goat head sand map, we see São Vinaigrette, here, low to the south on the Western side of the island. Traveling northward, we come to La Seggheweighe. From the happy town of Le Seggheweighe, one continues northward along the coast to find São Cochon. You are in luck, and just in time! The whole town of São Vinaigrette was planning on going up to La Seggheweighe for the big celebration! You are here on the most festive day of the year! Carnivalle!”

“Carnivalle!”

“Everyone aboard our little burro pulled wagons! Oui?”

“Oui!”

“Away we go! Oui?”

“Oui!”

“Come along, Mesdemoiselles and Messieurs, join our caravan to
La Seggheweighe!”

“La Seggheweighe!”

“Come join in our Carnivalle!”

“Carnivalle!”

“I say, could you share with us the inspiration for your Carnivalle?”

“Oui, Mademoiselle, we celebrate being happy!”

“Happy!”

“We celebrate the warm sun!”

“Sun!”

“We celebrate life, colour, and song!”

“Song!”

“We celebrate not being counted among Sku Le’Bizzarre’s zombie hordes!”

“Hooray!”

“Here we are my friends; our little caravan is arriving in Le Seggheweighe!”

“As you can see, this town is bigger than our little village of
São Vinaigrette
. So many more happy people to celebrate in our Carnivalle de Happiness! Look at all the happy people! Everyone is wearing their festive Carnivalle clothes! Oui! But no, this is not right. Our guests are not dressed for Carnivalle! Here in Le Seggheweighe, we have many wonderful clothing stores for you shop at. Let us send you all on your way to be properly fitted out in Carnivalle attire, Oui!”

“Ha, ha! Look at this! It is the feisty Irish policeman! My Heavens, Officer, you are now attired in splendid manner with your satiny emerald clothes! So festive, oui! The golden threads of your vest catch the sun’s rays my friend.”

“Aye, they be a tad bit flashy for me naermal tastes in clothing, baughtte under the circumstances, I feel they suit me especially well. The emerald green derby with golden band was an ir-r-resistible temptation faer me.”

“Ha, ha! Here is Monsieur Kit Oldbean, oui?”

“The name is actually Kit Eppington, Jean-Trevour, but please go right ahead, old sport, Kit Oldbean may grow on me.”

“Oh, oui, of course Monsieur Eppington! How dashing you are to our eyes! You have surrendered your black slacks and coat, but still you take up no happy colours? Instead you now wear the suit of white, but I see you have retained your silver thread vest, mon ami, no?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, dear fellow.”

“Good show, I see the return of the beautiful Persephone Plumtartt. You look smashing, my dear. This white, San Moniquan dress is not nearly so heavily built with layers and layers of fabric as your Los Angelos selection, my British butterfly. It does manage to charmingly accent your feminine charms even without the accompaniment of a bustle. The built in bodice is a delight to behold, my dear.”

“Thank you, Kit. I say, I do approve of this white suit  on you sir. The light fabric lends you an aspect of ready action, and, and, I say, Kit, your face has suddenly gone slack and is all agog. What is it that you are looking at? Let me see... Oh! That tramp! What
is
that Froust woman shamelessly parading about in public in? Is that negligee supposed to be considered a proper dress? My word, I should say, not. Really.”

“Hey, look at this clingy wittle bit of noffingness these good people have fixed me up with! Oye nevuh thought black was really me colour, but this wittle number changed me moind about that! Wot does ye thinks o’ me new dress, Kit?”

“Uhb.”

“
Oooo
h
, thank you, Kit. Wots does ewe thinks o’ me dress, Officer O’Hagan?”

“Uhb.”

“
Oooo
h
, thank you, Officer.”

“Miss Froust! Perhaps you would care for a shawl to protect your
shoulders?”

“There, there, both of you ladies are absolutely stunning and outrageously beautiful. I say, Persephone, your face has suddenly gone slack and is all agog. What is it that you are looking at? Let me see... Oh! The little tramp! Temperance old fellow, in what have these Carnivalle stricken natives costumed you, poor chap?”

“Lookey at me, y’all! Ain’t I something? This here is the most colourful shirt there ever woulda shoulda could be!”

“Aye, Ickety, tis truly a painfully bright sight to me lights.”

“Nonsense, old chap, I think you look superb in your vertically striped shirt. And if you are comfortable with the selection of bright red, yellow, blue, orange, purple and green stripes my lad, well then let’s just say that I admire your courage, sir.”

“Thanks, Mr. Eppington.”

“Glossy white footwear strikes me as an impractical choice by you who normally insist on a rugged construction in your shoe and boot, Mr. Temperance.”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, but the feller in the store was real insistent that the shoes had to go with the pants.”

“Oh, me wittle Icksi! Oye foind those pants are Heaven sent for you to wear me love! How did they ever achieve such a blinding level o’ whoiteness? Such a snug fit, too, me wittle giggle puss! Oye loikes ’em!”

“Yes, Ma’am, if you say so Miss Mimi Ma’am, but they sure are hard to walk in and I can’t bend too well, not to mention how they ride up to abrase my privates and squeeze my fanny.”

“Aye, so what’s going on with those grotesquely overgrown poofy sleeves, Ickety? Theire r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ruffley, frilly billows are a wee bit on the effeminate side there, m’laddie.”

“Yessir, that’s what I said, Officer O’Hagan, but again the feller insisted. I think maybe the dirigible sized sleeves of this outlandishly coloured shirt are a part of the festive costuming involved with Carnivalle.”

“Just so, Mr. Temperance. Now if you would be good enough to explain the hat.”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt. I thought a deep, blood red, velvet was the way to go with this thin, wide-brimmed, flat hat.”

“It is very sporting sir, I must say, however, the help in explanation I was inquiring toward lay with identifying the accouterments?”

“Accouter...?... Oh! You mean the dingle-berries! I don’t know why there’s little puff balls of material hanging on little inch and a half strings all the way around the brim. I  suppose, Ma’am, that they’re there for decoration.”

“Well come along lads and lassies, let’s mingle a bit, shall we?”

“Bonjour, our island guests! Please try this roast pork!”

“Ho, ho! You will just love these gourmet creations!”

“Oui, oui! Please enjoy these delicacies, my friends!”

“Hee, hee! This fantastic work of art created out of tangy and yummy fruits is not just for show! No! Please come and eat! The flavors are as vibrant as the many colours, oui!”

“Ha, ha! Have some of these many examples of the sea’s delicious bounty! We have as many wonderful ways of preparing our various seafoods as there are fish in the sea!”

“My word, these are a truly widely and varied selection of scrumptious foods to dine upon. I say, yes, rather!”

“Aye, dae me ears deceive me baughtte dae I hear music? Aye! Hear the happy melodies of the many guitar players, shaped metal barrel bangers, conga drummers and kind-hearted coronet artists.”

“Yessir, they sure do make for a happy festive atmosphere. Lookey what’s coming around, now, y’all. Why it looks like we’re being brought some great big ol’ fancy drinks served in big  pineapples with the tops lopped off and the space within bein’ used for a festive mug to hold our fruity concoction.”

“Aye, Ickety. Careful lad, I be believing these drinks to have an adult beverage mixed in.”

“Oui, oui! These are mixed with this island’s primary product of manufacture, Sku Le’Bizarre’s San Moniquan Spiced Rumme!”

“’ey! If dis is from Sku Le’Bizarre, will it tuhn us to moindless zombies?”

“Oh, sure, … if you drink enough of it. Ha, ha! No, it is safe to drink, my friends! Enjoy, for this is the Carnivalle of happy and fun times in the tropical sun, oui!”

“Oui!”

“I say! Jolly good! Absolutely delicious, don’t you think so, Persephone?”

“My word, I say, undeniably so, Kit.”

“Aye, well, Happy Carnivalle, me party commandos.”

“Yessir, Happy Carnivalle, y’all!”

“’appy Cahnivalle! Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

“Ha, ha! Let us now sing the song of Carnivalle!”

“Carnivalle!”

“Oh, oh, oh, come and play!”

“Oh, oh, oh, happy day!”

“Oh, oh, oh, golden ray!”

“Oh, happy happy Carnivalle Day!”

bump. bump. bump.

“In the Sun!”

“Carnivalle!”

“Having fun!”

“Carnivalle!”

“Toast my buns!”

“Carnivalle!”

“Better run!”

“Carnivalle!”

“Oh, oh, what am I drinking?”

“Oh, oh, got me winking and blinking.”

“Troubled not, I am thinking.”

“Trapped on the isle, San Moniquan!”

bump. bump. bump.

“In the Sun!”

“Carnivalle!”

“Having fun!”

“Carnivalle!”

“Toast my buns!”

“Carnivalle!”

“Better run!”

“Carnivalle!”

“It’s at dark that things start to reek.”

“Locked door shelter, we’re gonna seek,”

“For at sundown, evil will leak.”