Read Online Hamish X Goes to Providence Rhode Island by Sean Cullen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sean Cullen
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and no one to lose. Now he missed Mimi and Parveen. They could have helped him, but heâd left them behind. He had found these new friends in need of his help, and now he was going to fail them.
Inside the bridge, the Captain had gone quite mad. He thumbed the switch on the Tannoy 41 system. The laughter of Captain Ironbuttocks rang out on the loudspeakersystem. âTee hee! Tee hee! Weâre all going to die! If I canât have my ship, no one can.â He gripped the wheel of the ship with insane intensity, his eyes glaring and foam spraying from the corners of his mouth.
Hamish X snarled, âNo. I wonât let this happen.â Suddenly, he had an idea. He ran down the steps to the main deck. As he passed Maggie, he pointed at the hatch-way to the bridge. âDonât let him out!â He didnât wait to see if she obeyed but set off towards the bow, running as fast as his amazing boots could carry him.
Reaching the absolute front tip of the ship, he skidded to a halt, his boot soles sending up a shower of sparks. The rocks were looming ever closer. He had no time to lose. A spare anchor chain lay coiled on the deck. He grabbed the end, wrapped his fists around it, and dove out in front of the speeding ship, disappearing into the furiously boiling bow wave.
He plunged into a maelstrom of churning water, immediately losing track of which way was up and which way was down. He held on tenaciously to the anchor chain as if it were the only thing in his world. Wrapping the end of the chain around his forearm, he tried to orient himself. The barnacle-encrusted hull of the freighter rushed by overhead, the current threatening to bash him against the razor-sharp coating of shells. 42 Spinning in the fierce current, he got his boots up just in time to push the deadly surface away before his skin was scoured off.
Holding his breath, though he was desperate for air, he began to bounce along the bottom of the ship as it rushed by, like a rock climber rappelling down a mountain face horizontally instead of vertically. His boots surged with power. He felt the bubble of joy expanding in his chest that always came when he used the power of the boots. If he hadnât been underwater, he would have laughed aloud. 43
The hull began to curve upwards towards the bow where the propellers thrashed the water to foam, driving the ship forward. Hamish X felt the powerful suction created by the massive propsâ blades. Timing was critical. The keel loomed out of the darkness, a sharp fin of steel carving the water in two directly in front of him. Hamish X pushed off with his right foot, kicking with all his might. Swinging in a wide arc, he felt the pull of the propellers as he sailed past them and loosened his grip on the chain until he barely hung on. In seconds, the chain straightened out and, with a jerk, was pulled painfully out of his fingers, taking some skin as the propeller blades caught it.
The chain wound around the propeller like thread on a spool. The torque of the crankshaft was so powerful that the anchor chain was yanked from its housing on the fore-deck and reeled in at high speed. In a matter of seconds the thick steel links were completely entangled in the propeller blades, freezing the crankshaft and stripping all the gears inside the engine room. The engine spouted black smoke as the tortured inner workings tore themselvesapart. The sailors holding out in the engine room gagged on the poisonous fumes. They were forced to open the hatch to escape the toxic smoke. They ran into the waiting arms of Thomas and his cohorts, coughing and wheezing as they sucked in the sweeter air.
Hamish X kicked to the surface, finally heeding the cry of his aching lungs. He broke through the choppy seas, instantly swallowing a mouthful of brine as a wave swamped him. Choking and spitting, he scanned the waves to see the rear end of the ship sporting the name Christmas Is Cancelled in peeling black paint. Oily
Inside the bridge, the Captain had gone quite mad. He thumbed the switch on the Tannoy 41 system. The laughter of Captain Ironbuttocks rang out on the loudspeakersystem. âTee hee! Tee hee! Weâre all going to die! If I canât have my ship, no one can.â He gripped the wheel of the ship with insane intensity, his eyes glaring and foam spraying from the corners of his mouth.
Hamish X snarled, âNo. I wonât let this happen.â Suddenly, he had an idea. He ran down the steps to the main deck. As he passed Maggie, he pointed at the hatch-way to the bridge. âDonât let him out!â He didnât wait to see if she obeyed but set off towards the bow, running as fast as his amazing boots could carry him.
Reaching the absolute front tip of the ship, he skidded to a halt, his boot soles sending up a shower of sparks. The rocks were looming ever closer. He had no time to lose. A spare anchor chain lay coiled on the deck. He grabbed the end, wrapped his fists around it, and dove out in front of the speeding ship, disappearing into the furiously boiling bow wave.
He plunged into a maelstrom of churning water, immediately losing track of which way was up and which way was down. He held on tenaciously to the anchor chain as if it were the only thing in his world. Wrapping the end of the chain around his forearm, he tried to orient himself. The barnacle-encrusted hull of the freighter rushed by overhead, the current threatening to bash him against the razor-sharp coating of shells. 42 Spinning in the fierce current, he got his boots up just in time to push the deadly surface away before his skin was scoured off.
Holding his breath, though he was desperate for air, he began to bounce along the bottom of the ship as it rushed by, like a rock climber rappelling down a mountain face horizontally instead of vertically. His boots surged with power. He felt the bubble of joy expanding in his chest that always came when he used the power of the boots. If he hadnât been underwater, he would have laughed aloud. 43
The hull began to curve upwards towards the bow where the propellers thrashed the water to foam, driving the ship forward. Hamish X felt the powerful suction created by the massive propsâ blades. Timing was critical. The keel loomed out of the darkness, a sharp fin of steel carving the water in two directly in front of him. Hamish X pushed off with his right foot, kicking with all his might. Swinging in a wide arc, he felt the pull of the propellers as he sailed past them and loosened his grip on the chain until he barely hung on. In seconds, the chain straightened out and, with a jerk, was pulled painfully out of his fingers, taking some skin as the propeller blades caught it.
The chain wound around the propeller like thread on a spool. The torque of the crankshaft was so powerful that the anchor chain was yanked from its housing on the fore-deck and reeled in at high speed. In a matter of seconds the thick steel links were completely entangled in the propeller blades, freezing the crankshaft and stripping all the gears inside the engine room. The engine spouted black smoke as the tortured inner workings tore themselvesapart. The sailors holding out in the engine room gagged on the poisonous fumes. They were forced to open the hatch to escape the toxic smoke. They ran into the waiting arms of Thomas and his cohorts, coughing and wheezing as they sucked in the sweeter air.
Hamish X kicked to the surface, finally heeding the cry of his aching lungs. He broke through the choppy seas, instantly swallowing a mouthful of brine as a wave swamped him. Choking and spitting, he scanned the waves to see the rear end of the ship sporting the name Christmas Is Cancelled in peeling black paint. Oily
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