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He rushed to the poop to tell the Captain the good news.
"Captain!" he cried.
Unfortunately for the scientist (whose name was Alfred Weinstein - leading to an enormous amount of confusion, none of which he understood), the poop was a tad crowded. Roger (VC and Bar) was there, of course, in command. However, Nemo, Crabtree and the Bosun's uncle were also there. Nemo and Crabtree, of course, were in possession of the appropriate commissions and both held the rank of Captain. The Bosun's uncle, another member of the Bastard family, had been given the name Captain at birth.
So, when poor old Weinstein said "Captain!" he was confronted with four people saying "Yes?"
Well actually what he got, reading from left to right was:-
"Yerss?" (A very nonchalant Roger (VC and Bar)).
"Quack?" (Nemo)
"Yoass? Muy Ay hoolp?" (Crabtree), and
"Who are you?" Uncle Captain, the Bastard.
Ignoring the distractions, he addressed Roger (VC and Bar):
"I've come up with a way of creating SLAKers!" he said.
"Oh good," quoth the nonchalant Roger (VC and Bar). "Just what we needed, more slackers. Go and tell Staines he'll only need to stand half-watches, Bosun. The scientist has found a means of making more people like him. Wonderful! We'll be able to get half the work done at twice the cost! This could be a revolution in maritime productivity!"
"No, you don't understand!" said Weinstein. "It's ....
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a wonderful scientific break through!...The captains thoughts started to cloud over and he could see his dreams slipping away like vomit being flushed through the scuppers. He turned and yelled "Belay that last order, flog'em instead"..He turned to the now cringing scientist and roar ......
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... but he was interrupted by Frontbottom.
"Now look here! I say!" Frontbottom was affronted.
"I'm affronted! Lieutenant Commander, it won't do! I mean really! It was bad enough that apalling oick Silver giving vent to his quite dreadful manners - and, in consequence, meeting his fate at the joint and several hands of Leading Artificer Groans and young Sponcracker's quite splendid androids (you should be congratulated Halfrit!) but, I mean to say..."
"Ahem!" coughed Roger (VC and Bar) - who was getting bored.
"I'm getting bored," he said. "Are you, at any time soon" - (he glanced meaningfully at his watch) - "going to come to the point?"
"Yes! You told Bosun Bastard here (unfortunate name - poor chap) you told him to flog someone. Won't do! Simply won't do. I mean to say, flogging was never a successful disciplinary tactic even during the Napoleonic Wars but now....!"
"Y'know," said Roger (VC and Bar). "You really are a prize pommy pillock at times, Frontbottom! When I told the Bosun here to flog 'em, I was instructing him to ....
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...revive that fine naval tradition of rum, sodomy and the lash. As soon as Bosun Bastard has finished lashing Staines and the rest of the lower deck, I'll have him splice the main brace, take up the SLAK with some MFKL, and set sail for the sinful city of Sodom, where the crew may....
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re-live their youth.Arr, the South Pacific Isles, sun, sand, women...
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and a decent dose of the "Old Tropical Crutch Rot",(damd!, they don't make crutches like they used to), he mused to himself.
Just then the ships cook rushed onto the deck shouting something about "Run for yer perfetic lives, dinner's got loose in the galley an' it's bloody angry". The Captain's looked at each other and a blindman could read what they thought, "Not again!".
Able seaman Iris Farsight, the ships lookout, who was shortsighted, yelled from the Crowsnest "Faarrkk!!, an I wuz starvin' to!..what are we gonna' do now"....
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...Mmmmm? ..... (yawn) ...... (stretch) ....... (fart!) .... "Wha...?"
"What day is it? ..... Thursday? ... Strewth! Must have fallen asleep."
The Very Little Gravitas Indeed had sailed on, regardless of the fact that for several days, her crew had again been totally inactive, slumbering in their usual comatose manner, all over her various decks and companionways. (Again! :rolleyes: )
Roger (VC and Bar) roused himself, glanced about him and determined that no-one else was yet awake, picked up his loudhailer and bawled:-
"D'YE HEAR THERE! THIS IS THE CAPTAIN! HANDS OFF COCKS - ON SOCKS! WAKEY, WAKEY - HANDS OFF SNAKEY! GERRUP YOU LAZY LUBBERS!"
The crew shook themselves and ...
-
let out a collective groan.
Groans of course was completely non-plussed by this.
"What'd they groan?" he asked of no-one in particular.
Just then, Major Frontbottom gave a startled cry because who should have appeared from the fo'csle but none other than.....
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........the axe weilding bloody mongrel....
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He stompted down the stairway, grumbling and growling and axe'a'swishing, a very, very disturbing sight!..He yelled " Gerrup' or I'll be cuttin' ya' down!"....The crew stood and ducked for cover, and the ships duck layed an egg, but no ordinary egg it was a ......
savage(Eric):)
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...very different egg. An egg of unusual proportions and size. An egg which had about it a feeling unlike other eggs. And so it should.
For this was no ordinary egg! This was a hellish egg! An egg, indeed, from a place far removed from the mundane and pleasant surroundings of the good ship Very Little Gravitas Indeed! This egg was spawned in nether regions, cast about with appalling and fiendish miasmas and reeking with a sulphurous aura and glinting with a deathly pale light.
The crew recoiled in horror from the awful sight, struck dumb with a nameless terror. Even the axe-wielding bloody mongrel was cowed and hung his head.
"Whoops!" said the Mother Farcquar as she tripped on the top step of the companionway and accidentally kicked the egg clean over the taffrail.
She had been busily engaged below decks laundering her underwear - a Herculean task - and had entirely missed all the drama.
She looked about her at the crew, who were all agog at the way she had casually eliminated the egg.
They said: "We're all ...."
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absolutely gobsmacked" !
For you see dear reader, it appeared that a major change in their dreary lives was afoot with the discovery of the egg. Yet, once again, the gargantuan form of one Mother Farquar had stolen it from them.
Now they would never know the meaning of the egg and what it portended for their futures.
They were alll standing around rather glum faced when suddenly a voice was heard on the poop.
"Carruthers of the Yard here" said the voice. "I believe that I can discern the meaning of the Mystery of the Dissapearing Egg"
"Is that right sunshine?" Inquired Roger (VC &c) "prey tell us how"
Carruthers of the Yard fixed him with a gimlet eye and said ....
-
"Are you Lt Commander Roger (VC and Bar) formerly known as Roger the Cabin Boy?"
"Well, yes." said Roger. "Although people are normally too polite to mention my former lowly rank."
"And can I assume, Lieutenant Commander, that the crew roll of this vessel also contains (ahem!) Master Bates and Seaman Staines?"
"Yerss...." said Roger (VC and Bar) with not a little hesitancy - for he was becoming not a little uncomfortable under the interrogation of this rather formidable member of the constabulary.
"There have been allegations made, Lt Commander, that the three of you served under Captain Pugwash!"
"Is that so?" said Roger (VC and Bar), suddenly becoming very guarded.
"But that's not true!" said Carruthers. "It's not true at all! Is it?"
"Just a moment!" said Frontbottom. "What on earth does this have to do with the disappearance of that frightening egg?"
"Well," said Carruthers. "You see ....."
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"That ruddy duck had a similar experience on Pugwash's ship and all manner of strange going's on happend!". Curruthers face darkend, Oh! no it didn't it was the shadow of the jib sweeping across the deck, hmm! must have changed direction, anyway, "That duck an' its unholy egg brought about a series of events like you've never seen, wine turning to vinigar, drinkin water gettin' salty and the ships store of butter gettin' all rancid like". "But the strangest of all was when......"
-
Carruthers stopped waffling and was struck dumb. A change came over his Metropolitan Police features. His chin dropped and his mouth, beneath its regulation Metropolitan Police moustache, gaped - slack-jawed. His boggled and gobsmacked gaze was fixed on a point halfway along the maindeck.
The crew, as one, turned and looked.
They were confronted with a perplexing sight.
A person stood midway along the maindeck. He wore tight-fitting green kecks and dancing pumps. He seemed at first glance to be that upimself Irish hoofer, Moichael O'Flatulence - only recently drowned, they thought. But, if indeed this was he, he was a Moichael much changed. All the arrogance was still there but now, instead of that familiar self-satisfied, slightly fatuous cockiness, he had about him an air of dark and evil menace. Something about him there was that recalled recent events.
The egg! That was it! The horrible, evil egg! This manifestation of Moichael bore the same fell aura of menace as the egg that the Mother Farcquar had accidentally succeeded in booting into the 'oggin!
But how could this be?
Well ....
