[Cyclefrance]

Night fell, as night does on a daily basis when the sun goes down – even off the coast of California. A moonless night as well, this one, hard even to see the outline shadow of a man that moved stealthily across a deck, which suited our four intrepid heroes as they moved stealthily across the deck of the Bacardi Breezer.

It was very quiet, save for the creaking of the boards (as the ship tilted oh so slightly from port to starboard, and back again, encouraged by the light current), the sound of the occasional mid-snore snort, a slapping of lips and, of course and more often, the inevitable sound of wind vibrating its escape through a sailor’s buttocks.

The lone watch, Lumberjim, was slumped against the wheel – another fellow enjoying the after-effects of a generous helping of rum – and not alone was he, as the rest of the crew seemed also to have been well–treated in this respect.

Each of the Flossie crew carried a sack, and heavy it was too, containing, as it did, a good two dozen of Brianna’s Monster Hamburger Burger Portuguese Man-o-War Style Churrosco Meatballs (the large variety), each as big as a cannon ball, which might give some clue as to their intended purpose.

Silently, our four brave men went about their task, quietly slipping two MHBPMoWSCM(tlv)s into the mouth of each cannon, until all 48 guns had been properly attended to (and my mathematics double-checked).

Mission accomplished without so much as a mutter from any of Kit’s crew. They were all enjoying a smiley, smug-faced, sleep-inducing, alcoholic contentment. All that is except one….

UT and his crew slipped quietly into the powder room, Cheyenne’s mirror still in hand, and, with a quick turn of the door handle, returned back aboard the Flossie Jetsam.

Dawn broke, and so did wind throughout the ranks (an appropriate word) of Cap’n Kit and his crew.

Kit looked across to where the Flossie Jetsam still lay anchored – so she hadn’t tried to sail away during the night as he had expected she might. But in all honesty (well, pirate honesty, anyway) UT had had enough time to help. Time to send him another warning shot across the bows.

‘Prepare to fire a warning shot across the Flossie’s bows!’ Kit barked out the order.

There was a commotion below decks, and a lot of banging and screaming it was too. Flint was making himself heard.

‘What on earth is he making all that fuss for now? – go and bring him up here on deck and let’s see what he has to say. I hope it’s something of value, if only for the sake of his continued relatively good health…!’

Flint was very agitated: ‘Don’t fire the cannons. They were here last night, Capt UT and some of his crew. They put something in each of the cannons, I heard them moving around…’

‘What rubbish is this. How could they come on board? We would have heard them when they drew up alongside in their boat at least…’

‘No, no. It wasn’t like that they came out of the powder room over there, and went back in it. I don’t know how they got aboard, but they did and I could just seem them through the holes in the hatch-cover grating go back in there. They must be in there now..’

‘Well, if this is true - and I don’t believe for one moment that it is – then there is one easy way to find out!’ Kit drew his cutlass and pointed it towards Flint, at the same time directing him with his free hand towards the powder room door. ‘Off you go, You can see if they're inside or not. And make sure to close the door behind you…!’

Flint, somewhat wishing he had worn his brown trosuers, entered the door which Spexxvet was kindly easing open just enough to allow Flint to enter, but not enough to let UT and his crew out… As soon as Flint was inside he slammed the door shut. There was a brief moment of silence, and then all the crew burst into a spontaneous combustion of laughter.

Five minutes passed. All sounded quiet within the powder room. Kit motioned to Spexxvet to open the door, and opened it was. The room was empty. No UT, No Flossie crew, and most of all… NO FLINT!

‘I have no idea what’s going on here,’ said Kit, ‘but I don’t like it at all. Prepare to fire the cannon!’ Seemed he had forgotten all that Flint had warned about the cannons. But what had become of Flint? Was he now aboard the Flossie Jetsam? Appears not!

‘I have no idea what’s going on, but I don’t like it at all’ Flint murmured very quietly to himself. It was dark inside the powder room once the door had closed, and Flint remained still… then nervously and in a small voice: ‘Is anbody there….?’ No reply. I’m getting out of here! Thought Flint, and he opened the door….

…only to find himself stepping out from a small wooden building into bright sunlight on a golden sandy beach on which were frolicking several rather attractive and scantily clad young ladies of Caribbean origin…! Flint’s eyes almost left their sockets! It seemed that he had somehow crossed paths with another portal that had an exit at one end on this rather nice Caribbean island. So that’s the information that Reggie must have imparted to UT just before they went into the powder room to board the Breezer - portal routes could cross in certain circumstances. And why should this have affected Flint? Well, it seems he had his grandfather’s pocket watch with him, and that acted quite differently on the portal from Cheyenne’s mirror…

The girls suddenly noticed Flint and came rushing towards him, giggling all the time. Then they grabbed his hands and led him to the ocean’s edge where they began to strip him and bathe him in the clear blue water.

Well, lucky old Flint! He wasn’t going to be in a hurry to go back into that old wooden building that was for certain!

And the girls even had a gramophone player (how handy!) and this was even now playing, an old Harry Belafonte number…’This is my island in the sun…..’