Yes, the title is ironic.
A Few weeks ago I spotted a girl on Ok Cupid whose profile made me laugh. In particular, it was the section ‘I spend a lot of time thinking about’, which she had answered thusly:
“Traveling far far away in a great airship. I’m the captain, of course. My hat is made from the newspapers reporting the Titanic tragedy. My sidekick is Salty, the airbourne seahorse automaton.”
It made me laugh, so I wrote her a story about their adventures by way of an introduction, which you can read below:
The Island of Dr. Monroe
“Captain, you should probably wake up.”
“Go away Salty.”
“It’s just that, well, breakfast is ready, and the ship’s on fire.” The Captain sat bolt upright. She pushed her long dark hair from her blue eyes, and reached for her Captain’s hat. Although it was made from newspapers reporting the Titanic tragedy, it was still an extremely fancy hat, with gold trim and a Skull and Crossbones insignia on the front. She tried to focus on Salty, her seahorse automaton. His tiny cogs flew round as he hovered anxiously by the side of her bed.
“Breakfast you say?”
“Fan-fucking-tastic. You’re a great sidekick Salty.”
“Thank you Captain.” The Captain began to tuck into her breakfast with gusto.
“Oh, what was the second thing?”
“Er, the ship is on fire Captain.” The Captain put her knife and fork down.
“Yes Captain. We’re being attacked.”
“Whaaaatt? Who would dare? I’m the most feared Captain in the high skies! I defeated the entire South American Armada blind drunk with one arm tied behind my back. My crew strike fear into the hearts of any who set eyes on them!”
“Ah, well that’s the problem, you see, it’s a…”
“MUTINY!” Yelled a voice, as the cabin door crashed open. Standing there was Piston Leg Pete. He slowly bobbed up and down as his replacement piston leg churned away. Shadowy figures stood behind him in the corridor, and the smell of smoke filled the air.
Pete leveled his gun at the Captain and looked at her with his one good eye. “That’s right Captain, this is a mutiny. And I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to ask you to walk the plank.” The Captain picked up her napkin, and gently brushed the toast crumbs from the side of her perfect lips. She looked Pete in the eye.
“A mutiny you say? But whatever for?”
“Well, the lads and I, we’re starving. We haven’t eaten for weeks! The biscuits in the hold are so rotten, even the weevils have weevils. Scrumpy Joe has even started drinking his own urine.”
“Why? We have plenty of water?” Piston Leg Pete faltered slightly, as confusion crossed his face.
“Actually that’s true. Why HAVE you been drinking your own urine Scrumpy Joe?” A grizzled sour face with a bulbous nose popped his head round the door.
“Aarrr, I’se just likes the taste is all!” Piston Leg Pete shook his head and then continued.
“The fact remains, we’re not happy. So we’re throwing you off the boat, you and your aquatic horsey friend.”
“But it’s the middle of the sky – I’ll fall 20,000 feet!”
“That’s the general idea, ma’am.” The Captain glanced at her gun. It was in its holster by the door. She’d be dead before she even got within ten paces of it.
“Well can you at least let me get dressed first?” The Captain motioned her eyes down at her chest, which was covered by a loosely laced blouse, exposing a small amount of cleavage. Piston Leg Pete’s eyes followed her gaze.
“Er, yes, I suppose that would be… OK. But we’re going to stay and watch, we don’t want you to pull one of your trademarked incredibly daring escapes.” The Captain slung her shapely legs out from under the covers and walked across the room, mussing her hair as she walked. She grabbed her breeches, and pulled them on. She grabbed her boots and slipped her legs inside, lacing them up tightly. She batted her eyelids.
“Could you pass my long coat, it’s just behind you?” Piston Leg Pete turned to get the coat.
“Ar, sure thing.” As he turned, Scrupy Joe yelled.
“Look out Pete! She be going for the toast!” Piston Leg Pete turned just in time to get a slice of toast flung into his one good eye.
“Ar, there be Marmite on this! It burns” he yelped. The Captain grabbed the coat from Pete and spun round as she slipped her arms into its sleeves.
“Salty! Stop tidying up the breakfast things! We’re in trouble here!” The crew began to pile into the room, and so did the flames. The Captain kicked Gunpowder Gavin in the cannonballs, and leapt over Paintpot Jones. She was in reach of her gun, if she could just…
“Not so fast Captain!” It was Scrumpy Joe. Flames licked the wall behind him. He had the drop on her. “Back away from your gun, or I’llse shoot ye dead as disco.” The Captain put her hands up. Suddenly Salty let out a headquaking neigh. Scrumpy Joe clapped his hands to his ears, and The Captain grabbed her gun and shot Scrumpy Joe, blowing him clean through the flaming wall and straight into a 20,000ft free fall. Wind whipped through the airship, as the Captain ran over to the hole in the wall, plucking her compass from the dresser as ran.
“Salty, it’s time to go!” Salty ran over and she grabbed him tight. “Ready?”
“Captain, I’m always ready.” The Captain smiled and then leapt through the hole.
As they fell, Salty activated his Levi-bubble, and their decent speed changed from ‘Accidental sky dive’ to “ gently landing hot air balloon’.
“Well that was exciting, wasn’t it Salty?”
“Terribly Captain.” Above them the air ship exploded into a million pieces.
“Did they… leave the powder room door open and then start a deliberate fire? I don’t know how many times I told them to keep that door shut. Look, there’s an island below, head for that.” The bubble floated down until it reached the sandy beach below, where it promptly popped.
“Ew, I’m covered in bubble mixture! Right, where are we Salty?” Salty’s gears churned and puffed.
“Well Captain, I’ve extracted the GPS coordinates”
“And I’ve cross-referenced them with all know nautical maps.”
“And I can confirm, that we have landed on an uncharted island.”
“But not uninhabited!” Said a voice from behind. The Captain and Salty spun around to see Marilyn Monroe, pointing a pistol at them. “The boss wants to see you, boo boop be do!” The starlet motioned them to start walking, and they began trudging across the sand.
“Blimey,” said the Captain. “It’s 11am, and I’ve already had two guns pointed at me, been in a fight, killed a man, and executed an incredibly daring escape.”
“I suppose you’re right,” replied Salty. “It’s has been a relatively quiet morning.”
Result: No response - she was probably too busy buckling her swashes.