The Measure of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 6) (8 page)

P.O.V. Constable Joshua O’Hagan

I ken see bye thaeyre gloomy pusses that no one raeturns with good tidings.

“Aye, me fair lassie, Persephone, what news does ye bring me?”

“Oh, Officer O’Hagan, I say, Kit and I searched most assiduously for a ship to bear us to this mysterious island of San Monique, but none gave any indication of having heard of this locality.”

“Persephone is quite correct in this. I foresee some difficulty in gaining passage to this unknown hideaway.”

“Thank ye, Eppington. What aboot you, Ickety?”

“Nary a drop of information could I squeeze from these seaside barnacles. Not only does nobody know where this island is, but they immediately clam up and become more unfriendly than cocklebur underwear at the merest mention of that ill-omened locale.”

“Aye, tis’ the same with me. Even all this distance froom L.A., I can’t shake the aura o’ ‘copper’ from me paersonage. That’s a big strike out for aulle pairties involved, eh? That is, oonless ye’ ’ave soomethin’ to add, lassie.”

“Eh, wot? Who? Me? Oye’m sure Oye could not possibly ’ave succeeded where all you fine an’ upstanding peoples ’ave exercised your impwessive skills, intewect, an’ wesourcefulness. Nope, nuttin’ for me to even bodduh wiff twyin’, weally, ’cept, … ol’ blind Tom came ‘round te’ tells me how’s there’s been some fancied up dude inna silver threaded vest escorting some snot nosed hoighty toighty piss-mop around asking ’bout ‘The Oisland o’ San Monique’. The snoot bags were wantin’ to books passage te’ the cursed place, see, but everyone ’round ’ere knows not to mention this horrid location. Then, it wasn’t long aftuh dat when deh pwecocious wittle scamp, Wukey Pwiscus, comes ’round to tells me ’ow dere’s been a tough little Irishman stomping aboot, tryin’s his ‘Oh, Oye’m naughtte a copper, wea-wy, you ken troost me’ woutine, but the fella woz so stupefyingly stench ridden with the odour of policocity, that even the most gullible of tiny children would run in terruh from the brutish authority. Oye also had several weports o’ a sweet young Alabama boy politely making inquiries. Then Oye had several contacts from dis area’s supernatural and occult quarters come to tells me that there is bad juju in the air. Oye should lay low while these nosy busybodies, these magnets of doom and ’ellish twoubles were dealt wiff by VooDoo assassination squads to be dispatched at sundown. Uvvuh than that, Oye fails to see how Oye could be of any helps.”

“Gee willikers, it sounds like you did pretty good there, Miss Mimi Ma’am, uncoverin’ all kinds of useful information!”

“Aye! Well doone lass!”

“My word, I must admit so, especially that troublesome news, but useful report on some sort of VooDoo assassination squad, eh, hem?”

“Oye was just kiddin’ about dat part, you stuffed skurht, but then again, you nevvuh know.”

“Aye, Mimi me lass, what course do you advise us to take?”

“Oye knows uvvah powerful VooDoo mystic shaman. She moight be persuaded to help us, but Oye cahn’t guarantee it.”

“What’s her name, Miss Mimi Ma’am?”

“Oye don’t thinks Oye’m quite weady to weveal dat information yet, Icksi. To get any further help from moiee, Oye demands to be cut in on the spoils an’ wecieve an equal split o’ the loot, roight?”

“Oh, bad show, that my dear Mirabella. It seems there is no actual ‘loot’ per se in this little caper we are embroiled within. The naked truth of the matter, my charming red-headed beauty, is that this mission we are embarked on is one in which we intend to free our friends from death and the World from a walking death Damnation.”

“Oye see. Oh, well, Meestuh Eppin’ton, Oye’ll tags along anyways to see aftuh me wittle Icksi pooh. Cootchie, cootchie coo!”

“Tee,hee,hee,hee,hee,hee,hee!”

“Miss Froust!”

“Ho, ho, Oye likes to push your buttoneers, ewe silver spooned dowered duchess!”

“Ladies, please, let’s try and show how ladylike you booth aere, and naughtte tears each oothaer’s eyes out. Naughtte oontil after wae’ve fraed me Keefer and the Right Reverend Dolomite.”

“Ho, ho, don’ be worryin’s aboot me, O’Hagan, it’s ‘Hothead Tootsie’ ovuh ’ere dat’s deh twoubles.”

“Oh! I say! I like that! That’s just rich! I could just laugh! Ha! Ha! Me! The source of trouble! My word! The very thought! I think not! If there is a source of trouble anywhere in the vicinity then I should think then that it resides in you, Miss Froust! Yes! I say! It’s as clear as the nose on your painted face!”

“Easy there Persephone. Kit, laddie, doon’t be shy in gently restraining our excited aristocrat should things escalate to a more physical confroontation.”

“Why of course, Constable.”

“Icksi, if ye’ woould dae the same for our gentle Mirabella?”

“Yessir.”

“Ah, aye, that’s grand. Now then, kind and sweet, Mimi me loove, will ye’ share the name of this WitchDoctor?”

“We be needin’s tae seeks the advice of the hoighly venawated VooDoo pwiestess, Madame Paramarfeigh.”

~***~

“From me place onnae this squared off bow of ye’re match box skeef, I cans’t be seeing any further than these tall marshy reeds we slowly move through. Strange, I don’t remember any geography like this about Galveston.”

“Dang, Officer O’Hagan, this here fog’s so thick, I can’t even see the front of this little ol’ boat from my place in the back where I propel us along, not unlike some romantic City of Venice Gondolier.”

“I do beg your pardon, Mirabella, but I do not understand the requirement of seeking this swampy location after dark?”

“This locale may not be ’ere in the day, Kitty Kit.”

“And ye say the directions are to paerfaerm soome sort o’ heathern ceremonies, preparing a boonch o’ occultist traenkets, and then we are to be affixing these charms to the froont of our flat bottomed mudde skiff. We then have Ickety pole our frail, wooden craft onnae constant heading due Noorth, though we are effectively blind as bats, yes?”

“’at’s roight copper boy.”

“My word, I say, just when shall we expect to make our arrival, Miss Froust?”

“Roight where it always is, Your Majesty.”

“Where is this place Miss Mimi Ma’am?”

“Midnioght, Icksi.”

“An inordinate amount of owls and other predator birdies infest the Spanish Moss laden trees we move between. I see something up ahead. A dirty little blob of light. One weak gleam of lantern light seeps into and is absorbed in the slowly drifting mists. Aye, here we are, me loovelies, for as we push through this last stahnd o’ grasses we come upon a tiny shack, built on stilts. This swamp cabin is clearly inhabited with a madly occultic VooDoo practitioner tenant as the many charms, painted symbols, and disturbing dangling deadbits of whatnots bear stark witness.”

“We’ll tie our little boat to the stilts and climb onto the porch.  Now let’s just walk up to the front door and see if we got the right place. Hello?” -knock, knock- “Anybody home?”

“Kahme een.”

“Howdy, Ma’am. An unimaginably elderly woman such as yourself might wanna try and drink some hot, chamomile tea with lemon and honey to help alleviate that painfully harsh rasping attempt at speech. That dry, wheezin’, gaspin’ reply to my knock on the frame was actually kinda creepy.”

“Cspeaeakhe.”

“Yes, quite so, thank you so much, dear and venerated woman. I assume that we are speaking with a powerful VooDoo priestess, eh hem? Yes, I see by your nod of affirmation that we are indeed with all likelihood in the presence of the fabled ‘Lady Paramarfeigh’, yes? Oh, good. It seems, my good woman, that a dangerously powerful colleague of yours has some mad scheme in play. We suspect that it could have planetwide catastrophic consequences, you see. Something along the lines of a ‘Zombie Cataclysmolypse’. That sort of thing, don’t you know. The fellow intends to bring about this dreadful state of affairs from his secret base of operations on the hidden Island of San Monique. Our query for you, my dear, entails divining whether there might be a preferred route to find this elusive Caribbean hotspot, eh hem?”

Aye, the frail little hunchback bag of bones under the taut leather hide pulls herself to her feet. Her hand gestures and head-nodding body language suggests that our little group huddle together in one tight mass in the middle of her shack. The little swamp witch shuffles about our circle, occasionally tossing an occult powder dusting in our direction.

The VooDoo priestess chants in a low and horrible voice.

“Eyes of worm,”

“Tail of frog.”

“Guide these,”

“Dingbats”

“From my bog.”

A sudden goost o’ wind shakes the weee little shack.

“Zombie World”

“Of deadly fright.”

“Sacrificing,”

“Reverend Dolomite.”

A crack o’ lightning and overwhelming thunder nearly blows the loose planked shack out of the shallow water. A massive storm has swiftly developed from nowhere, out o’ doors.

Our little hostess moves now with greater vigor, aye. Her step is more lively and a mad gleam has entered her eyes. The insanity drenched cackle shae follows with does little to makes me feel any better.

“Eeh!hehehehehehehehe!”

“You risk your lives,”

“You gamble your souls.”

“Fortune is fickle,”

“How Lady Luck rolls.”

“Your request is approved,”

“You shall travel far.”

“Careful what you wish for,”

“A date with Sku Le’Bizarre.”

“Fate has brought you together,”

“No time to take a leak.”

“Passage has been granted,”

“On a ship for
San Monique!
”

P.O.V. Multiple

“Eeh!hehehehehehehehe!”

“AyeiiiiIIIII say! Yes! Rather! My word! Hear, hear! I should say that this sudden lightning storm and hurricane force gale are our cue to depart, eh? Yes, well, thank you ever so much for your assistance, Lady Paramarfeigh. Though the weather has suddenly turned from still and dank, to torrential terror, somehow your unsettling cackle implies that we are safer to brave the storm than to remain in your quaint abode, eh, hem? Yes, I say!”

“Eeh!hehehehehehehehe!”

“Here you are, Persephone my dear, please allow me to assist you as you step into our amusing little raft.”

“’ey! Icksi! Gits ovuh ’ere an’ lends me a hand, would you dearie? Oh, yes, that’s it me pet; you are so attentive, me boy.”

“Yes Ma’am, Miss Mimi Ma’am.”

“Mr. Temperance! I think, sir, that you should be better served in your efforts if you would propel our craft away from this VooDoo amusement park, and back from whence we came, instead of indulging your unseemly flirtations, thank you very much!”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, but to tell you the truth, this here storm has gotta lot more control over this little boat than I do. In fact, maybe I should just quit wasting my efforts at attempting to propel and steer this skiff, because I am having absolutely no influence upon her steering, at all. Instead, maybe I should join in with y’all as you desperately bail water from our craft that is in real danger of submerging.”

“Aye, ye daft twit! Bail this barge lads and lassies, for I doon’t know what direction I woould swim in should we lose the boat.”

“The waters are getting rough! This is just a frail, little ol’ boat, y’all. It ain’t gonna hold up to this batterin’ abuse.”

“Oh! ’elp! Oye’m fallins overboard Oye am! Somebody save me!”

“I gotcha, Miss Mimi Ma’am!”

“Oh, yes, Icksi, you do! The manly way you hold me rain drenched body wiff me thin dress plastered to me heaving breast, pressed hard against your own body ’elps to reassure me an’ makes me feel safe, roight?”

“Oh! Really! My word! What a revolting display! Er, that is, I should say, Oh Kit, save me!”

“Of course, Persephone darling, here I am. I have you, my dear.”

“Oh! Thank you, Kit! My hero!”

“A pleasure my dear, I assure you. Now then, if everyone could just see to bailing a little faster please, yes, that’s it, hear, hear.”

“Woah, did you guys feel that?”

“Feel what, Ickety?”

“
W
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O
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O
O
A
H!”

“Mr. Temperance, we just went over a wave! Do you realize that you have allowed our craft to be swept out to sea!? This is completely unacceptable! My word, I am very disappointed in you, sir.”

“Zoinks! I mean, Dang! I mean, I’m sorry, Miss Plumtartt and you all. It looks like we are in the thrall of forces beyond our little ol’ limited comprehension and control. Hang on, these coastal breakers are now turning to mountainous waves. I ain’t sure which is more sickening, the sudden rise to the crest, the quicker fall to the trough, or the uncanny spinning of the raft. I have totally lost any sense of direction other than we are being blown out into the Gulf of Mexico. Keep on bailing, y’all, but it looks like our chances of survival are running mighty slim.”

“‘ey, Icksi me wittle muffin, is it bad when the boards are splittin’ apart, allowing water to gush in unopposed, loike?”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Mimi Ma’am. That ain’t really too good to hear.”

“I see, so you have managed to allow us to be washed to sea in a disintegrating raft, Mr. Temperance. I can assume from this that we are all on the threshold of drowning while lost at sea then, eh, hem? I must say, this is not one of your finer moments, sir.”

“No, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt.”

“Aye, we’re in a dire position. I doon’t see how it coould be any waerse.”

“Well, there may be one way it could be worse, Officer O’Hagan.”

“Sufferin’ Shamrocks! And what coould be waerse than the hopeless predicament that we find ourselves in be?”

“Well, sir, I reckon if a big, black, scary ship were bearing down on us, sure to crush us asunder, its ancient, barnacle encrusted hull rising high above our wave’s trough, then that might be a way that our situation could be worse. Like that big black, scary ship right there, for instance.”

“Eek! A ghost ship! Leapin’ Leprechauns, tis’ a frightful vision of death’s promise that is briefly illuminated by the stark glare o’ the lightning’s tooungue. The remnants of the spectral ship’s black sails are bhaughtte ragged shrouds, yet she stills flies through the crashing waves. The frightful monster of a hulk sur-r-rely bears down on our party to drive us to a watery grave.”

“Quite right, Constable O’Hagan, though if I am not mistaken, old bean, perhaps we shall narrowly escape a hasty, crusty keel hauling to just slide alongside her hull, eh what?”

“Whew! That was close! Hey y’all, there’s lotsa ropes and netting from this neglected derelict’s rotted rigging that’s justa trailing along the sides of her. Everybody snatch a’hold of a rope and we may climb to safety yet!”

“’ey, Icksi, sticks close to your Mimi an’ ’elps me up, roight?”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Mimi Ma’am.”

“Well! I say! I think then that I require assistance also. Kit, if you would be so kind?”

“Why of course, Persephone my sweet!”

“Aye, and I shall scramble up and onto the deck, unencumbered with relationship baggage.”

“Phew! We made it, you all! This ship sure ’nough looks like it is deserted. Everything is so old and rotten lookin’, I betcha this ol’ girl has been wanderin’ around the Gulf of Mexico for hunnerds of years.”

“Aye, Ickety, I hope this rotten hulk stays afloat through this raging staerm, Bucko.”

“Hey, y’all, I think I see the name of this big ol’ ship inscribed above the passage leading below.”

“
Eep!
Er, that is, eep. Of all the confounded luck. Dash it all, not the ‘Dutchie’!”

“My word, Kit, you don’t mean to say that we are aboard, ‘The Dutchman’?”

“Yes, Persephone, ‘The Flying High Dutchman’, to be exact. Hers is a classic tale of mutiny, murder, and traitorous deeds. She was a Swedish ship with an Amsterdam registry. The legend holds that on one particularly bountiful visit to the New World her substantial holds were packed to the gills with the finest treasures from her American plunder. Highly touted herbs from the jungles of the Yucatan Peninsula, Montezumauii wauii, and Prized Patagonian Pineapple buds were among the aromatic delights. Yet the sweet allure of the highest of treasures is probably what triggered the tragic events that soon transpired. The crew were seized by the siren’s call of pure, unrefined Acapulcan Gold. Realizing that they were within reach of more mind numbing euphoria than a thousand crews could consume in a thousand lifetimes, the greedy slackers mutinied. After much heavy indulgence the crew lost their way while in search of both sweet and salty snacks. Their befuddled minds became disoriented in direction, and the ship was lost at sea. The accursed, treacherous action of mutiny sealed their fate, poor devils. It is reputed that after many years of aimless wanderings they are now among the ocean’s uncounted dead. Oh, yes, of course, there is just one other thing, the phantom ghost ship is reputedly still wandering the Gulf of Mexico, in search of other lost souls at sea that they may eat the living flesh off their victims’ bones.”

“My word, what a charming story, Kit. However, I say, I think we could have done without that last addendum. Yes, I say, hear, hear.”

“Ugh! The watuh logged planking of this deck is so soft an’ squishy wiff rot, Oye’m abouts to steps roight through it!”

“Yes Ma’am, Miss Mimi Ma’am, and this here wind is driving the rain so hard it feels as if I’m being eaten away by sand-blast. Even so, I ain’t real cheerful about goin’ below decks on this dang ol’ spooky schooner.”

“Dummy up ye unlucky charms, for beyoond the howl of the roaor-r-r-rin’ gale, I thinks I be hearing a ghastly moaning, as well.”

“Spot on, Constable. Now that you mention it, there is a definite ambient note of unintelligible discourse just at the edge of audibility. In fact I would go further in characterizing this low wail as that of many voices. The disparaging music brings to mind the approach of a vast, melancholy chorus of sad, chanting monks.
Eep!
Eh, hem, eep, yes, and here we have our hosts, bubbling up out of hatches and doorways not unlike a boiling batch of cabbage overflowing the roiling confines of its stove heated pot.”

U
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“Buh-Leck! Oye’ve seen me share o’ seasoned seamen, bot dis’ is the most scurvy infested, maggot eaten lot o’ sailuhs Oye could ever hopes to not meet. Yelk! The less skin these crawlin’ blokes ’ave, the more it makes make me own skin crawl!”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Mimi Ma’am, there’s more bone showing than flesh on these worm-eaten gangrenous walking skeleton ghouls. It’s hard to tell where the rotten rags of clothing stop, and the strips of decaying flesh begin.”

“Eep, er, yes, eep, drat it all, this is a disappointment, for I was
so
looking forward to a long and prosperous life of not being eaten alive by a cannibal corpse. Yes, quite.”

“Ayeeeii! Me Irish loock ’as roon oout. Oh, I’m about to be ette by this flesh eating sailoor corpsey! Get a hair cut why don’t ye? Your long hair trails about your head likes slimy seaweed. Me copper sensibilities make me joost a tad suspicious o’ your bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes staring out from ye’re vacant, yet starving, expressions.”

“My word, I say, no, this shall not do. Eh, hem! Now hear this! Hear, hear! All of this ship’s crew is hereby commanded to
STAND DOWN!!!
There, that’s better. You men should know that we are here upon this charming craft, not at our own behest, but that of occult powers originating from lofty magnitude. This ship has been given a mission and this crew is expected to fulfill it. Now then, who among this stalwart company is our vessel’s captain, eh hem?”

“Ah, here we are, Persephone darling, I think that we shall find our commodore under the overly large black hat making its way forward through the threadbare throngs.”

“Yes, of course, Kit. Oh! I say, Captain? If I may have a word or two please?”

“...Oyyyye...”

“How very delightful to have the privilege of riding aboard your lovely...”

“...Oyyy’mmm...hhhaungrrhie...”

“Eh, hem. Yes, I see. Nevertheless, I am afraid that myself and my companions are not on the menu. Rather, you sir, are burdened with making good our passage to the Island of San Monique.”

“...Hunhhh!...”

“Eh, hem, yes, I see by the expression in your, and your crew’s fleshless faces that you are familiar with this locale. Let’s not dally my good former man, rather, let’s make haste, sir. Yes, I should say so, and do, most emphatically, yes.”

“...No...”

“I beg your pardon?”

“...No...one...goes...to San Monique...”

“My word, I am sure the San Moniquan Board of Tourism would be
most
dismayed to hear you say that. We do in fact, go, and what’s more, you, shall take us.”

“...
R
R
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RR
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...”

“You shall
not
take that tone of growl with
me
, Captain! I am Persephone Plumtartt! Perhaps in your day you were familiar with an ‘Admiral’ Plumtartt? Admiral Norbert  ‘The Caribbean Tiger’ Plumtartt, I think was his colloquial moniker. I have Naval Command rooted in my ancestry. This ship is under sailing orders from a rank higher than yours or mine, Captain. I say, sir, with all due consideration, you are commanded to convey myself and my companions to the hidden, secret, Caribbean VooDoo Island of San Monique!”

“...Oyyye...Oyyye...”

“Good show! Well played, Persephone, my dear. Look at how the skeletal wretches shimmy up the masts and scale what is left of the ‘Dutchman’s’ rigging.”

“If you all will listen closely through the howling wind, y’all can hear the sad and mournful song of these sea-bourne, and cursed spirits. They sing a ghastly, ghostly ballad, of the Gratefully Deceased.”