"But I've not got fingers!"
"Yes, we know that. It's not really your fingers he's interested in."
"What then?"
"It's your..."
"Your general bulk," put in Geoffrey, helpfully, as we sculled carefully around baby Orca.
Yes, we finally made it out into the middle of the choppy waters of the Bay, and mightily close to the snapping jaws of my former nemesis. So far, so good.
"My general bulk? are you saying I'm fat?"
"NO! not at all - row back a bit, Geoffrey, for pity's sake - but let's face it. You ARE a killer whale. And that's a lot of meat for someone who's inclined that way."
"Meat? what do you mean, meat?"
I glanced at Geoffrey. The wind was picking up and I didn't like the look of a massive navy blue rain cloud heading relentlessly towards us...I wanted to get back to the Outcrop for a hot mug of madeira and some sort of meat-based sandwich.
"There's no nice way of putting this, B.O.. It's Tuppence. He wants to put you through a meat grinder and process your meat into fish fingers."
"Yes," added Geoffrey eagerly, "He wants to make his fortune and he doesn't care who gets hurt in the "process"."
Baby Orca frowned anxiously. "First off, I'm NOT a fish. I'm a warm-blooded mammal. If anything, I'd be a burger, not a fish finger. Second off - how's he going to do it? harpoon me?"
And he tittered in a nervous kind of way.
Geoffrey groaned quietly.
"Well, er...yes.." I gulped.
"Bb-b-ut that's.."
"Barbaric. Revolting. Cruel. Yes, we know. And THAT'S why - even though you've threatened to wreak revenge upon my mortal soul for blowing a hole in your mother's belly (see previous posts about my sojourn in the belly of the beast) we've come to WARN YOU..."
I clapped my feet over my ears as a deafening foghorn blasted across the Bay, and a familiar voice barked commands through a loudhailer from the deck of a rusting old ship.
"Move away from the fish. Move away from the fish."
It was Tuppence, of course. Somehow, he'd equipped himself with a horrible old vessel complete with harpoon. He was standing on the bridge, wearing a yellow sou'wester, a life preserver and a brace of pistols - the same pistols he stole ages ago from the T-G's vitrine (old posts again, I'm afraid).
"Just look at him, Geoffrey," I muttered. "I can't believe we're actually related."
"I think I'd better make tracks if you don't mind," said baby Orca. "I should be safe enough in deeper waters. That minging old vessel looks like it might sink at any moment. Thanks guys - laters!"
And with that, he dived.
Unfortunately, the suction caused by the dive created an enormous whirlpool-type effect, and it took all our skill to keep the coracle afloat. And as readers will know, coracles are naturally exceedingly buoyant anyway. Tuppence, however, was not so fortunate.
"I'll get you, uncle Tuppy!" he gurgled as the rusty old vessel sank beneath the heaving swell. "Mark my words!"
"Oh dear. Better get back to the Outcrop and batten down the hatches. Again."
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