a word in your shell like Pt. 3 of 4
Part three: in which there are chickens and bubbles.
Nina was grateful for the voice she heard bellowing orders, she couldn't make out the words but the men seemed to recognise the sound if nothing else for they jumped as one and scuttled back to their duties.
"I should think so too!" Nina was still hot-faced.
She decided to stand up and, in doing so, noticed there was a rather flustered looking chicken drilling near her feet in an untidy circle.
"You peck my feet and they'll be trouble!" Nina said crossly. "These shoes were expensive!"
Well, someone had to say it!
But Nina was rapidly perturbed by the sight of two more chickens popping up from the broken crates around her.
A little nervously she retreated backwards towards a clear section of deck, noticing the wind for the first time - and the sound it was making, just the same as that from the shell.
This drove home several things in quick succession;
One - she had no idea where the shell was and doubted that clicking her pumps together would wish her back home.
"And I'm not really Dorothy material..." she thought, and made a quick mental note;
"Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of OZ... Hmmm, perhaps I should read something different!"
Two - she may have lost the shell but her glasses were still perched on her nose. "That's lucky!"
Three; "I am on a SHIP!!!!!"
Just for a second she allowed herself to feel both panic and excitement at what was clearly an unfortunate but pretty cool seeming event; adventure.
With that in mind she eased herself a little further away from the bewildered beaky chickens and decided to have a proper look at the boat.
Given the wind and the light from the sky, which was a curious vivid white, Nina had to screw up her eyes a little - like Granddad, she thought -In order to look around for the sails. There weren't any. Instead there were two large chimneys that were sending thick funnels of smoke into the sky.
The chimneys were black or perhaps a very dark brown, with a circle of brass, rather like the band on a cigar, the sort her dad allowed himself to smoke on celebratory occasions like Christmas.
Also, they did look sort of OLD too, not like modern ships, or at least the ferry boat she remembered from a holiday once and the military vessels she'd glimpsed on the telly, they had engines too and no chimneys. Hmm, the wind must have blown me back in time as well, Nina thought.
Well, there was nothing she could do about it, not at the moment anyway.
Nor did she want to - not just now. She stood watching the white light shimmer and gleam off the ocean and - oh! The rolling size of it! It was no wonder sailors sang songs, something in the leap of the wild waves made her heart do the same, she could feel it in her chest, even if her face was still set in its normal calm expression, her eyes would have given away the depth of her excitement, watching the vast tumbling water - it took her breath away. The cold did that too - it WAS cold, very cold and her teeeth were starting to chatter.
But she could hear voices again, carried on the breeze, and Nina thought it might be a wise idea to hide, at least for now… after the crates - and the chickens roaming free. She darted across to a square door that looked like it might lead down into the body of the vessel.
She stopped for just a second with her hand on the big cold wheel that served as a door handle - a thought had just occurred to her; if this was the past, and she’d got here from Grandpa’s shell… then logically, logically he should be around somewhere - this should be his ship. Granddad didn’t talk much about his old sailing days but… "But what if he doesn’t recognise me, not in the past, there’s no reason why he should… not here.”
There was a lot to think about. And better to do it indoors and out of the wind Nina decided sensibly, and spinning the wheel she slipped inside.
The inside of the ship was a mix of metal and wood and Nina was grateful yet again for her soft soles as she descended the brittle stairs, almost a ladder in fact.
She would have made a clanging racket if she'd been wearing her monkey boots or school shoes. It felt good to be quiet.
When she stepped off the ladder she found herself in a low ceilinged corridor with round lights and a cupboard and more doors. She was surprised to discover that the noise of the engines carried through the metal plating of the walls and was really loud. "That would explain Granddad's laugh", Nina noted "only way to be heard I expect".
She could hear more sounds as she moved ahead up the passage way, a sort of slashing metallic sound like a washing machine maybe.
It made her curious so, when she found the source to be coming from behind a particular door, she spun another wheel and stepped through.
Instantly her glasses steamed up. Nina HATED it when that happened! She had to take them off and wipe them the bottom of her t-shirt, before putting them back on again.
That didn't really help, not at first anyway, because in fact steam was all around her. She was in the thick of it. It was warm though - and she enjoyed the feel of it as her goose-pimpled arms relaxed back to their normal state.
"Normal..." she sighed to herself, "nothing is 'normal' right now."
The noise she had heard before was now directly in front of her and quite loud, she could distinguish separate pieces of crockery and metal being bashed about. "Someone is obviously doing the washing up!"
Whoever it was - they were very rough about it. "Hmm... sailors... they were sort of rough - apparently, at least in all the stories."
Nina considered pretending but was not at all certain she would convince anyone. "I'm not really pirate material either..." she pouted into the mist.
The sound in her ears was beginning to change in timbre (fancy word timbre, like timbre-ine... maybe not) and Nina could tell that the washing up was coming to an end. "Now or never I suppose!" And so saying she stepped boldly forward through the clearing steam.
!!!!!!
And there was Granddad.
"What!?"
"How?!"
"You?!"
"Here!?"
"What?"
"That's quite enough of that," snapped Nina, "we both sound very, very stupid."
"Right..." Granddad folded his arms.
He was stood behind a large sink that had obviously been full of dishes and the like since there was a great pile of them now on a draining board next to him, dripping away quite happily.
His eyes glittered and he was trying to look fierce, in order to hide his surprise at Nina's sudden appearance. Yes, but that wasn't really working because his beard was almost completely covered in soap-bubbles making him look even more like Father Christmas than usual, really, a LOT of bubbles.
"You were playing!" Nina clapped her hands, "You were! You were playing with the washing up!"
Granddad looked suitably ashamed, but in his defence he said, "Well, it helps make the washing up less boring."
Nina was regarding him clearly now as she stood with her hands on her hips.
"I thought you might be here," she said, "but I thought you would be the captain, not the cook!"
"I'm not a cook!" Grandpa was wiping the suds from his beard now with his apron.
Nina raided an eyebrow and pointed to it.
Granddad blushed. "I'm not a cook, I'm not! I'm a chef! I'm THE chef in fact and hereabouts - and tell me child, what about you eh? Stowaway!"
Nina scowled. “I’m not - I fell in your shell… I think. The one you must have used to get here too!”
Grandpa looked a bit bewildered by this, but Nina was on a roll now. “Although why you would come all this way to be a cook I-“
Granddad raised a hand, “I could blow bubbles all over you from here young lady,” he said. “I’ve told you I aint no cook, I’m the Chef!”
“Yes, chef…. Right…”
“My pan-cakes are a work of bleedin’ART! I tells yer! A - R - T!”
Nina pressed a finger to her mouth. “Language,” she said sternly.
Granddad looked abashed. “Oh - yes, sorry gal, but you got me all riled and - ART I tells yer!”
Nina looked sceptical still.
“Well in that case,” said Granddad, “And seein’ as how the captain himself is on his way down to the galley to eat… I’ll just have to show yer! Consider yerself Chef’s assistant - as of right now!”
Nina gulped.
END OF PART THREE.