hammocks. He could see the bunk Haddock had pointed out. He could even see the faint gleam of the keys in Mr. Jaggerman’s hand.
“Provided,” Haddock added helpfully, “they all stay asleep.”
Yes
, Tintin thought.
That would help
.
He waved back at Haddock to hush him but teetered at the pitch of the floor. Haddock saw the motion and misunderstood it. “Don’t!” he whispered, too loudly. “I wouldn’t get too close to Mr. Hobbs. He’s very handy with a razor.” Haddock kept up with the hoarsely whispered advice as Tintin crept on, dodging the sleeping sailors who moved about constantly. They got in his way, rolled out of their bunks, got up and stumbled to other bunks—all without waking. Tintin had never seen a group of people sleep so deeply.
He got to Mr. Jaggerman’s bunk and looked up. He would have to climb to reach it; the bunks were stacked four high, and the highest of them was well beyond Tintin’s reach even if he stood on tiptoes. He glanced around and didn’t see anything he could use to snag the keys out of Mr. Jaggerman’s hand. There was a motion near Tintin’s feet. He looked and saw Snowy, who wagged his tail apologetically. Tintin glared at him but then thought about it and realized that Snowy might be better able to get to Mr. Jaggerman’s bunk than Tintin himself.
He climbed part of the way up the rack of bunks, keeping his toes on the edge of the bottom one and reaching up to hold on to the frame of the third. Snowy got the idea immediately. He skipped right up to the top bunk just as Tintin stretched out and Mr. Jaggerman shifted in his sleep. Tintin’s fingertips brushed against the keys. One more stretch and he would have them!
Then the entire ship rolled again, more violently than before, and the whole rack of bunks broke away from the wall, with Tintin clinging to it and Snowy standing on Mr. Jaggerman’s bunk suddenly digging into the covers. He came up with a sandwich in his jaws. “Not the sandwich!” Tintin whispered. “The keys!”
He shoved Snowy across the bunk toward Mr. Jaggerman’s flailing arm. The sailor hadn’t awakened, but even asleep he was responding to the motion of the bunk and the ship.
Then the rack of bunks collided with the next. Both toppled, taking a third and fourth with them. An avalanche of sleeping sailors buried Tintin, followed by whatever had been in their bunks with them: empty bottles, lost shoes, various guns and knives, a number of fish, and a single large shark that had apparently had its own bunk. All of this collapsed onto the floor of the sleeping quarters as Haddock watched.
Snowy ended up on top of the pile. He had lost the sandwich and was sniffing at the shark. Tintin’s fist, holding the keys, burst through the pile, and he slowly worked himself free. He shot Haddock a glance. Apparently there had been no need for all the sneaking around; these men would not have awakened if lightning had struck inside the room.
Haddock clapped, slowly and quietly, as Tintin made his way across the landscape of sprawled sailors. Outside, he took the keys from Tintin and said, “You’re a brave lad. My heart was in my mouth, I don’t mind telling you.”
They hurried through the ship back to the locked door. “Well, something was in my mouth, anyway,” Haddock went on. “My stomach’s been a bit unsettled lately . . .” He went through the keys and selected one.
“Hurry up, Captain,” Tintin said. He was still tense from his misadventures in the bunk room. “We’ve no time to lose.”
Then, as Haddock opened the door, Tintin saw what was inside. It wasn’t a way out. It wasn’t a way anywhere. It was a storeroom, and Haddock went rooting through the shelves, stuffing his pockets with all the bottles he could carry. “Bingo!” he said. “Just the necessities, of course.”
Tintin stood aghast. All of this, for bottles of whiskey? What about the mutiny? What about Sakharine? What about the secret of the
Unicorn
?
“Provided,” Haddock added helpfully, “they all stay asleep.”
Yes
, Tintin thought.
That would help
.
He waved back at Haddock to hush him but teetered at the pitch of the floor. Haddock saw the motion and misunderstood it. “Don’t!” he whispered, too loudly. “I wouldn’t get too close to Mr. Hobbs. He’s very handy with a razor.” Haddock kept up with the hoarsely whispered advice as Tintin crept on, dodging the sleeping sailors who moved about constantly. They got in his way, rolled out of their bunks, got up and stumbled to other bunks—all without waking. Tintin had never seen a group of people sleep so deeply.
He got to Mr. Jaggerman’s bunk and looked up. He would have to climb to reach it; the bunks were stacked four high, and the highest of them was well beyond Tintin’s reach even if he stood on tiptoes. He glanced around and didn’t see anything he could use to snag the keys out of Mr. Jaggerman’s hand. There was a motion near Tintin’s feet. He looked and saw Snowy, who wagged his tail apologetically. Tintin glared at him but then thought about it and realized that Snowy might be better able to get to Mr. Jaggerman’s bunk than Tintin himself.
He climbed part of the way up the rack of bunks, keeping his toes on the edge of the bottom one and reaching up to hold on to the frame of the third. Snowy got the idea immediately. He skipped right up to the top bunk just as Tintin stretched out and Mr. Jaggerman shifted in his sleep. Tintin’s fingertips brushed against the keys. One more stretch and he would have them!
Then the entire ship rolled again, more violently than before, and the whole rack of bunks broke away from the wall, with Tintin clinging to it and Snowy standing on Mr. Jaggerman’s bunk suddenly digging into the covers. He came up with a sandwich in his jaws. “Not the sandwich!” Tintin whispered. “The keys!”
He shoved Snowy across the bunk toward Mr. Jaggerman’s flailing arm. The sailor hadn’t awakened, but even asleep he was responding to the motion of the bunk and the ship.
Then the rack of bunks collided with the next. Both toppled, taking a third and fourth with them. An avalanche of sleeping sailors buried Tintin, followed by whatever had been in their bunks with them: empty bottles, lost shoes, various guns and knives, a number of fish, and a single large shark that had apparently had its own bunk. All of this collapsed onto the floor of the sleeping quarters as Haddock watched.
Snowy ended up on top of the pile. He had lost the sandwich and was sniffing at the shark. Tintin’s fist, holding the keys, burst through the pile, and he slowly worked himself free. He shot Haddock a glance. Apparently there had been no need for all the sneaking around; these men would not have awakened if lightning had struck inside the room.
Haddock clapped, slowly and quietly, as Tintin made his way across the landscape of sprawled sailors. Outside, he took the keys from Tintin and said, “You’re a brave lad. My heart was in my mouth, I don’t mind telling you.”
They hurried through the ship back to the locked door. “Well, something was in my mouth, anyway,” Haddock went on. “My stomach’s been a bit unsettled lately . . .” He went through the keys and selected one.
“Hurry up, Captain,” Tintin said. He was still tense from his misadventures in the bunk room. “We’ve no time to lose.”
Then, as Haddock opened the door, Tintin saw what was inside. It wasn’t a way out. It wasn’t a way anywhere. It was a storeroom, and Haddock went rooting through the shelves, stuffing his pockets with all the bottles he could carry. “Bingo!” he said. “Just the necessities, of course.”
Tintin stood aghast. All of this, for bottles of whiskey? What about the mutiny? What about Sakharine? What about the secret of the
Unicorn
?
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