Sneaky Pint: The Flying Dutchman

Posted on February 27, 2020 / by The Drunken Poet

The Flying Dutchman
(Part 2 of The Adventures of Paddy and Manuel.)
This isn’t Netflix peeps, so I’m not going to catch you up, but I will tell you that José returned the following Wednesday. (See the last edition of the Sneaky Pint, “Tresoro”, like you haven’t already read it like a devoted slave to common sense, humour, quality journalism and the Sneaky Pint way.) Sure he’d had a few sangrias, but I could follow the thread reasonably well. If you’ve ever sat out the front of the Poet on a sweaty evening, the condensation dripping from your pint, the music spilling from the open door, the convivial atmosphere wrapping you up and taking you to some place cooler or at least funnier, you’ll know that secrets aren’t easily shared or kept on that sacred patch of Peel Street. I’m pretty sure all 15 or 16 of us who were there were transfixed to José’s tale. So charge your glasses my friends, for we start where we left off….
As Paddy dove into the water two things flashed through his mind. The first was his mother smiling down at him as she stirred some porridge and the second was the thought of the pirate crew with razor-sharp cutlasses in close pursuit. He hit the water and sank like a stone. Paddy’s eyes were shut, one arm clenched around his torso, holding the jar with the map, the other just flailing uselessly. Breath was eking out of his lungs. Manuel took as much air in as he could and duck dived down to Paddy. He grabbed his flailing arm and began swimming up, but it was no use as Paddy was struggling too much. Now this next bit may sound a little far fetched, but José swore on his Jameson 12yr old that every word was gospel. Just as Manuel began to give up hope of being able to save Paddy, up from the dark depths of the sea a giant turtle swam up and lifted the two boys on the back of it’s shell to the surface. This wasn’t the only piece of luck for our two heroes; as it happened to be the equinox which, as I’m sure you cretins are aware, has the fastest sunset of the year. When the boys had dived from the Captain’s cabin it had been daylight, but now as they resurfaced with their newfound friend, it was pitch black. The turtle, a giant leatherback, quickly put some distance between the boys and the pirate ship.
After a couple of hours of turtle travel, they saw what they thought was the outline of a ship in distance and it seemed that’s exactly where the turtle was taking them. As they got closer they could read the name, “ The Flying Dutchman “. A rope was hanging down the side and as the turtle was obviously leaving them, they grabbed hold and climbed up. The ship appeared to be deserted and after a thorough and petrified search, it was confirmed. The sails were hoisted and they were sailing northwest. It was a very confusing scene, but the boys were too exhausted to try and figure it out. They staggered below deck, found hammocks and fell fast asleep.
Paddy woke with a start. He’d heard the unmistakable sound of an anchor being dropped. It sent shivers down his spine. He looked over at Manuel who was staring back bug-eyed. Who, or what had dropped the anchor??? With the stealth of a pair of cats, they crept up the stairs to the deck and found….no one. It was broad daylight and off the starboard bow lay an island which appeared to be some kind of trading port; as there were at least 50 ships moored and a bustling town behind. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” murmured Paddy and it was indeed as though the hand of a higher power had saved them from the jaws of hell and delivered them here safe and sound.
A few minutes later, the boys had cast off in one of the Dutchman’s boats and were rowing for shore. A great many interested eyes watched them row in. One pair in particular belonged to an old sea dog with scars running down both cheeks. He folded down his spyglass. “The Flying Dutchman ay….well I’ll be scuppered.” And with those words, the ghost ship weighed anchor, raised it’s sails and sailed away at a fair clip. Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann let out a toneless whistle in amazement and trained his glass on the two boys rowing ashore. He watched them land and tie their boat to the dock. One of the boys was holding something under his shirt as though his life depended on it. And it just might, thought Mick. They talked to an old fisherman, who pointed them up towards The Buggered Pelican, the closest pub to the docks. “Well now, I might be having something to wet my whistle, and Mick limped towards the pub.
At this point José became incoherent due to the Jamesons I’d been plying him with, but I’m reasonably sure he’ll remember that he promised to come back to finish the story. Otherwise the Sneaky Pint will just have to find something equally as riveting and relevant for you pack of miscreants to read while you watch your pints go down.