Hamish X Goes to Providence Rhode Island Read online

  Maggie was a girl of roughly eleven years of age. Her hair was dark and, at the moment, a greasy mess. She had the same luminous blue eyes as her brother, but while his face was round, hers was long and sharp. She wore a striped orange-and-blue bathing suit that looked a little the worse for wear and a matching sarong wrapped around her waist. Thomas, the bloodthirsty brother, wore jeans with holes in both knees and a T-shirt that announced My Grandma went to Aruba and all I got was this crappy T-shirt in blue neon letters. He held a length of metal pipe in his hand. As Hamish X looked at him, Thomas slapped the pipe into his hand in a menacing fashion.

  Gathered around them was a crowd of grimy, bedraggled children, eyes wide and white in their filthy faces. They warily eyed their captive and waited for instructions from the girl Maggie.

  “So, spill the beans,” Maggie demanded. “Who are you? What are you doing here? Are you spy or what?”

  “A spy? What’s there to spy on?”

  Thomas thrust his face into Hamish X’s. “Us. The Captain coulda sent you down here to see what we’re up to. To rat us out!”23

  “I’m not a spy,” Hamish X said, his skin crawling under the edge of the knife. “I don’t know anything about the Captain. Listen, I just stowed away on this boat to steal a ride.”

  “A ride? On a child-slaver? Are you kidding me?” Maggie shook her head.

  “A child-slaver?” Hamish X asked. “This is a child-slaver?”

  Upon hearing this news, Hamish X felt a flicker of anger ignite in his belly.

  Maggie nodded. “They cruise around and snatch children, then sell ’em. At least that’s what we’ve overheard from the crew.”

  Hamish X clenched his fists and felt a surge of power flow into his boots. “Sell them to whom?”

  Maggie looked into Hamish X’s golden eyes, and what she saw there made the knife waver in her hand. “The Grey Agents,” she said softly. “The ODA.”

  “That’s enough talking.” Thomas spat and shook his head in disgust. “I’d kill ’im. It’s simpler.”

  Hamish X glared at the boy. “But not very nice,” he observed coldly. Something in the glare of his golden eyes made Thomas take a step back.

  “Still.” Thomas shrugged.

  A little girl, one of the many children in the dark cargo hold, stepped closer. Her face was smeared with dirt. She wore a ragged dress and carried a teddy bear under her arm. The bear was missing one eye and its left arm. She leaned closer and peered at Hamish X. “Hey,” she said softly. “You …” Her eyes went wide. “You’re Hamish X.”

  In the darkness of the ship’s hold, Hamish X felt a hush descend. Thomas’s eyes were suddenly wide, all suspicion gone, replaced by awe. “Hamish X,” he breathed. “The Hamish X?”

  “I suppose so.” Hamish X shrugged. Suddenly, children were crowding in, grasping at him as if to assure themselves he was real. Grimy hands reached out and brushed his clothing, touching the black surface of his boots as if they were some kind of hallowed objects. Hamish X looked into their faces and saw that, where only moments ago there had been despair, now there was a glimmer of hope.

  Maggie lowered the knife but maintained a belligerent attitude, her lip curled. “Hamish X, eh? What are you doing here on this dirty, filthy tub?”

  Hamish X stood up and stretched. “An accident. A total fluke. I just needed to hitch a ride and this is the first ship I tried. How lucky for you that this is a child-slaver ship in the employ of the Grey Agents.”

  “Lucky? Are you off your nut, buddy?” Thomas laughed humourlessly. “The Christmas Is Cancelled is the last ship you wanna get stuck on and the ODA are the last people you want to tangle with.”

  Hamish X thought about that for a second. “All right, that came out wrong. Being trapped on a child-slaver ship isn’t the luckiest thing in the world that could happen to you. The Grey Agents are terrible people to be mixed up with. What I meant to say was having me stow away on the child-slaver ship you happen to be trapped aboard is lucky in the extreme, especially since the Grey Agents are my sworn enemies! … Wait a minute … Christmas Is Cancelled?” asked Hamish X. “That’s the name of the ship?”24

  “Cute, isn’t it. It’s the Captain’s idea of a joke,” Maggie explained. “The Christmas Is Cancelled runs up and down the European coastline snatching kids. We were on a summer holiday in Turkey with our parents.” She jabbed a dirty thumb at Thomas. “My brother and me. We were just wandering along the beach looking for shells when we got kidnapped.”

  “Our parents told us not to go out of sight,” Thomas said bitterly. “But we didn’t listen.”25

  “They were waiting for us behind a big rock outcrop,” Maggie explained. Her eyes glistened in the feeble light of the cargo hold. “They grabbed us, gagged us, and stuck smelly sacks on our heads. They had a boat waiting and then brought us out to the ship.” She shook her head suddenly, a quick snap that sent her greasy curls bouncing. “That was a few weeks ago. They’ve been picking up kids all around the Mediterranean. There’s more than a hundred of us now.”

  “Where are they taking you?” Hamish X asked. His heart went out to these poor kids. He had a quest to complete, but he knew he’d have to postpone his own journey until he could deal with this situation. Then he would be back on his way.

  “We’ve been trying to figure that out. The Captain and his crew have been careful not to talk too much. From what we’ve managed to overhear, we’re going to a place called Morocco.”

  Hamish X pondered for a moment. “Morocco. There’s a slave market there in a city called Marrakesh. I’ve been there before.26 I suppose that’s where they’ll meet their bosses and hand you over. Any idea when we’re to arrive?”

  “We arrive at dawn. I overheard Captain Ironbuttocks talking to the guards,” Maggie said.

  “Captain Ironbuttocks?” Hamish X scoffed. “What kind of ridiculous name is that?”

  “He isn’t ridiculous,” Maggie shot back. “He’s mean and he’s dangerous.”

  “Ironbuttocks.” Hamish X shook his head and laughed. “What is with these sea captains and their inane nicknames? Why can’t they just be Captain Jones or Captain Wilson? Honestly!”27

  “He isn’t someone you should laugh at,” Maggie warned. “He’s a pretty nasty customer.”

  Hamish X stood quite still. Those closest to him took a shuffling step backwards when they saw the look on his face. A wolfish, sneering smile exposed his left incisor, giving his features a predatory cast. His fingers curled into tight fists, opening and closing slowly. A ghostly, bluish flicker skated over the surface of his boots like an echo of his growing hatred for his mortal enemies. The faces of the children in the dark, dank cargo hold reflected the faint flare of power.

  “So am I,” Hamish X growled softly. He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

  “I bet you are.” Maggie nodded.

  I should be getting on my way, Hamish X thought. I have to find the Professor. He shifted his shoulders, feeling the weight of the book in his backpack settle between his shoulder blades. The Great Plumbers and Their Exploits book was the reason he was on this journey. I have to find the Professor, but this is a chance to strike directly at the ODA, who did this to me. For the first time since I got some of my memories back, I’m able to do some good. I can’t pass up this chance. Aloud, he said, “What’s the plan?”

  Maggie and Thomas exchanged a look. Maggie held up her knife. “I have a knife.”

  Thomas shrugged. “And I found a piece of pipe.”

  Hamish X frowned. “I was expecting more, but I suppose that’s a start.”

  “We haven’t got a lot of options,” Maggie said defensively. “I managed to steal this from the kitchen while I was working there. Some of the other kids have done the same. Some have clubs, but mostly we’re counting on numbers.”

  “There are only twenty or so crew members,” Thomas added, then frowned. “Plus the captain.”

  “Ha!” Hamish X couldn’t help but la
ugh. “Ironbuttocks! I still think that’s a ridiculous name. I mean, Ironbuttocks. Really!”

  “Sure,” Thomas grumbled. “It sounds ridiculous! But he’s no pushover. You’ll see.”

  “Don’t worry! Leave old Rustypants to me!” Hamish X puffed out his chest. “I’ve handled worse.”

  “Anyway,” Maggie interjected, “we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First we have to get out of the hold. The hatch is battened down every night.” She pointed up into the gloom overhead. Hamish X looked up and could vaguely make out the outline of the hatch he’d climbed into hours before. It had been open then, but now a heavy wooden cover had been pulled over the opening, reinforced with steel bars.

  Hamish X nodded grimly, taking in the fortified hatch with thoughtful eyes. Then he turned to the children huddled in the darkness of the cargo hold. He tried to look into each and every dirty, desperate face as he spoke.

  “I don’t know any of you, but you know me. I have faced some of the most dangerous people in the world and I’ve managed to come out in one piece. We have strength in numbers. We can escape this place if we are brave and strong and work together. Are you ready to do that?”

  “Yeah!” The children shouted as one, filling the gloomy cargo hold with their defiance.

  “Good! Thomas?”

  “What?” the boy asked.

  “You will take a third of our force and head for the engine room. If we control the engines, we control the ship.”

  Thomas nodded, his blue eyes blazing, as he immediately began counting off his squad.

  “Mimi,” Hamish X began, turning to Maggie. Seeing her confusion, he caught himself. “I meant Maggie, sorry. Mimi’s a friend of mine from … Never mind. Maggie, the rest of you will rush the bridge and subdue any crew member we run into on the way.”

  “That’s a great plan, but aren’t you forgetting something?” Maggie asked.

  “What would that be?”

  “We are locked in the cargo hold,” she said. “Duh!” “It’s nice to see you aren’t in awe of me any more.”

  Hamish X laughed.

  “Well, what about the hatch?”

  Hamish X smiled his fierce smile. “Leave it to me.” He turned and addressed the gathered children. “Are we all ready?”

  Thomas nodded. Maggie nodded.

  “Who wants to be free?” Hamish X shouted.

  “Yaaaaaaaaaay!” was the thunderous reply.

  Chapter 6

  “There’s that cheering again,” Monkey-Knees observed.

  Up on the deck of the Christmas Is Cancelled, the night watch was underway. Long, dark, and lonely, the night watch was the most onerous of all duties, and none of the crew was very eager to do it. Slavers are nasty, mean, and cruel, but what few people know is that the majority of nasty, mean, cruel people are the way they are because they are afraid of the dark.28

  The night watch fell to Rodney and Monkey-Knees,29 two sailors who were particularly fearful of the dark and so had hung a lantern from a pole. The lantern swung gently back and forth in sympathy with the motion of the sea. The men sat in the bright yellow glow of the lamp. Monkey-Knees had pulled up his trouser legs and was manipulating his knee muscles for the entertainment of Rodney, whiling away the final hour before dawn.

  “They’re probably playing tag or something,” Rodney said dismissively. “Kids are always playing stupid games.”

  “We’re supposed to be guarding them, though,” Monkey-Knees pointed out in a worried tone.

  “Forget them! They can’t get out! That hatch is solid oak reinforced with steel. They couldn’t get out if they tried. Now,” Rodney said, giggling, “do another one.”

  “Okay!” Monkey-Knees twitched his left kneecap.

  “Oh, that’s a cheeky one,” Rodney chortled, pointing a stubby, filthy finger at Monkey-Knees’s left knee. “Does he want a banana?”

  “Ook! Ook! Eeek!” Monkey-Knees tensed his left kneecap as though said monkey was responding to the question. Monkey-Knees had become a fair ventriloquist as well as a knee puppeteer. “Ook!”

  Rodney guffawed and slapped his own knee.30

  “Quiet out there!” a voice roared above the two sailors. Monkey-Knees leapt to his feet and banged his forehead on the lantern, sending it swinging in wild arcs and splashing light around the oily wooden deck. Rodney simply fell backwards off the oil drum he had been sitting on.

  “You two stupids don’t give me a minute of peace!” Down the steps from the nearby superstructure31 the slaver Captain approached. Clang! Clang! Clang! Each step he took was accompanied by the clash of his metal buttocks that gave him his name, or, rather, his nickname. (The Captain’s real name was Georgiou Stroumboulopoulous. Even he had trouble spelling it, so he went by the simpler nickname.) The metal buttocks crashed together when he walked, making it almost impossible for him to sneak up on anyone. As a result, Captain Ironbuttocks was never invited to any surprise birthday parties, which contributed to his evil temperament: he loved birthday cake but rarely had the chance to eat any. The metal buttocks were also a safety hazard. When they crashed together, they tended to throw off showers of sparks that threatened to ignite flammable liquids, a real danger aboard ship. To avoid unfortunate conflagrations, Ironbuttocks’s pants were lined with flame-retardant fabric (which was itchy in the extreme), further contributing to the Captain’s ill temper. The ill temper in question was now focused on the two sailors keeping watch over the cargo hatch.32

  The Captain stalked down the metal steps from the superstructure. He was short, but he was solid. He wore a soiled undershirt that was stretched tight over a round paunchy belly, but his bare arms bulged with ropy sinew. On his head he wore a Greek fisherman’s cap, stiff with grease. Down the length of his arms, tattoos writhed in concert with the movement of the muscles beneath the skin.

  The tattoos were many and varied. There was a black panther clawing its way out of the Captain’s right shoulder. Two snakes coiled down his arms. There was a Greek flag on his right forearm and an anchor on his left. On his right wrist he had a tattoo of an expensive watch. (Being a sailor, it didn’t make sense to have a real watch because the salt water would ruin it. As a result, it was always ten past two in the Captain’s world.) Last, and strangest of all, was the tattoo on his left shoulder: a little cat with big, sad eyes. Anyone who mentioned the cat was summarily executed.

  “I try to get the sleeping and you are laughing! You two dumb-stupids keep me with eyes open!” The Captain stalked up to Rodney, who towered over him. “You!” he barked, poking Rodney in the stomach. “Bend over!” Rodney did as he was told. The Captain slapped him very hard across the face. “Stop laughing so much!”

  “Ow,” said Rodney.

  The Captain slapped him again. “Don’t say ‘ow’ to me.” Rodney bit his lip and said nothing, tears standing in his eyes. The Captain’s hands were very rough and they smelled bad, too. “I don’t want no trouble. I want you to keep eyes open! I deliver these children to Marrakesh and then you play the knee puppet games! Until then, you pay attention and don’t make noises.” Rodney and Monkey-Knees nodded sheepishly and looked at the deck in front of them. Satisfied, the Captain nodded. With a hollow clanging, he set off up the steps and returned to his cabin.

  When Monkey-Knees was sure the Captain was gone, he twitched his left knee and said, “Ook.”

  Rodney punched him in the arm, stifling a laugh. “You’re so bad.” He giggled as Monkey-Knees twitched his kneecap again. “Eek! Eek!”

  Rodney collapsed into helpless, strangled giggles. They both started laughing softly, leaning on each other and trying desperately to bite the inside of their cheeks to avoid laughing out loud. They were so preoccupied with their own hilarious hijinks that they almost failed to notice the weird blue glow licking around the hatch-cover beneath their feet.

  “Ha-ha-hey,” Rodney said, wiping his eyes. “Do you see that?”

  “Wha-wah-what?” Monkey-Knees gasped.

  “That!” Rodney
’s giggles were gone now. The entire hatch, a square of wood and metal held in place by four heavy latches, was leaking a strange luminescence.

  Monkey-Knees was suddenly serious. “That’s weird. Is it a fire?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s getting brighter.”

  Rodney was correct. The light was growing in intensity now, as though a train were approaching the hatch from below, its headlamp shining.

  “Do we have a train in the cargo hold?” Monkey-Knees asked. Kind of a silly question, but what do you expect from a man who enjoys knee puppetry? Rodney was about to point out the unlikelihood of having a train in a boat, but he had only just opened his mouth when Hamish X smashed out of the hatch from below, his boots blazing.

  Rodney and Monkey-Knees were flung aside in the impact, cartwheeling through the air and crashing heavily into the sea. Shards of the ruined hatch rocketed upwards as shrapnel from the explosion rattled off the metal bulkheads of the superstructure. The broad windows of the bridge shattered as the concussion wave struck them, raining bits of glass over the night watch inside.

  Hamish X rose like a comet out of the cargo hold, a smear of blue power trailing after him into the black night. He arced through the air, suddenly and belatedly realizing that his trajectory would send him plunging into the sea. Thinking quickly, he grabbed hold of the communications mast on the top of the ship. The mast bent under his weight and then snapped back. Hamish X held on tightly, clinging to the metal pole like a fly. The mast thrummed like a plucked string but held. From his perch, he watched as Maggie and Thomas led a swarm of children up through the ruined hatch, boiling out onto the deck. There, the children searched about for weapons, picking up whatever they could find: sticks, weights, anchor chains, ropes, and gaffs.33

  “Let’s get to the engine room,” Thomas shouted, waving a wooden club. The swarm split in two, with a third of the shouting children setting off in the direction of the gangway to the lower decks. Maggie led the rest towards the bridge.