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Thursday, July 6, 2017

Gloriana and the Twins hunt for Pirate Treasure Chapter 2

Chapter 2
Jennifer and Christopher were not identical twins.
They couldn’t be: Jennifer was a girl and Christopher
was a boy. Twins like them are called fraternal twins.
But in many ways they looked remarkably alike, both with
fair hair bleached blonde by all the sunshine, both with
bright blue eyes, freckled faces and arms, both the same
height and build. Until they were about 6 years old and
Christopher had his hair cut short, their appearance and
behavior were almost identical and sometimes strangers
had a hard time telling them apart. But by the time they
were almost 10, Jennifer was becoming more conscious
of her appearance than Christopher was of his. They
wore similar clothes, khaki, grey or navy blue shorts, red,
blue, green or yellow aertex open-neck shirts, a pullover
or cardigan if it was cool, sandals rather than shoes most
of the year. Another difference usually distinguished
them now they were nearly 10. Jennifer kept herself and
her clothes clean and neat, her hair brushed and plaited
at the back into two little pigtails. Christopher’s knees
were always grubby from kneeling to play marbles in the
school playground and his hands were invariably dirty for
the same reason. His hair looked as if it had never been
brushed, there was always dirt under his fingernails and as
often as not there was a smudge or two of dirt on his face.
His shirt and shorts never stayed clean for more than an
hour or two after he got dressed in the morning and his
sandals were scuffed and often had the strap twisted.
Apart from looking so much alike and being fellow
spirits with the same urge to be adventurous, to climb
trees, clamber over rocks and up cliffs, go exploring on
their bikes and in rock pools at the end of the beach where
the hills came down to the coast, Jennifer and Christopher
had an uncommon and precious gift. They had their own
special ways to communicate with each other.
Like occasional other sets of twins, about one twin
pair out of 100, according to some experts, they made
up their own private language when they first began to
talk, and they continued to use this private language to
chatter to each other until they started school. Then it
was replaced, most of the time, by the Australian English
spoken by their Mum and Dad, their teachers, the other
school kids and everybody else around them. They didn’t
forget their private language, however, and continued to
speak it when they had something important to say to each
other that they didn’t want other people to know about
or understand.
They had something else, something that is rare but
not unknown among twins: in an emergency or under
special circumstances they could contact each other by
thinking about what was on their minds, transmit their
thoughts to each other without actually saying anything
out aloud. They didn’t understand how this worked, and
they didn’t have much, if any, any control over it. If one of
them had a tough problem in a class at school, usually it
was Christopher, he sometimes tried to “send” a thought
to Jennifer that he wanted help. This never worked.
But it worked with important and serious events like
emergencies, and once when their Mum and Dad had a
quarrel about something and were shouting angrily at each
other, something they’d never done before, at any rate
when the twins were there to see and hear it. One day not
long after their fourth birthday when they had just learnt
to swim, Jennifer got out of her depth and the current
was sweeping her farther out to sea. Christopher received
her alarm signal and alerted the lifesavers before anyone
else had noticed she was in trouble. Another time, when
they were about seven, Chris was set upon by a pair of
bullies, two big boys from a class a few years above theirs
at school, who thought Chris had made a rude face at
them. Jennifer picked up his unspoken distress signal. She
mobilized a troop of little girls from their class, they all
crowded around the two bullies, and began to poke them
with sticks until the bullies stopped thumping and kicking
Christopher and ran off.
Jennifer didn’t consciously try to pass on her
exciting thoughts and new knowledge about Gloriana to
Christopher but somehow he sensed her thoughts without
any effort from Jennifer, and she wasn’t surprised when he
knocked softly on her bedroom door and came in to join
her. He was wearing his Tarzan of the Apes pyjamas. Before
she could tell him that their parrot ‘s name wasn’t Cap’n
Flint, but Gloriana, he spoke, or rather whispered because
it was past their bedtime, and they were supposed to be
going to sleep. He didn’t want their Mum and Dad to know
they were still up and about. This is what he whispered:
“Hello, Gloriana. I’m sorry we’ve been using the wrong
name for you. We will call you by your real name from now
on. What’s all this about buried treasure?”
Gloriana looked at him long and hard, then looked back
at Jennifer in the same sort of penetrating, questioning way.
She seemed rather upset that Christopher already knew
her name, and knew about the treasure. Both children
realized that she was weighing them up, deciding how far
she could trust them.
“It’s all right, Gloriana,” said Jennifer, “You know Chris
and I are twins, and sometimes when one of us is thinking
about something important, the other one can somehow
‘hear’ those thoughts without us having to actually say
them out aloud. We don’t understand how it works and we
can’t always do it, but when it works it’s very useful. That’s
how Chris knows your name is Gloriana without me having
told him, and that’s how he knows about the treasure.”
“Ah, yes,” said Gloriana, sounding reassured. “I’ve
known a few other people who can get in touch with each
other like this. You are right. It is very useful and you are
lucky to be able to do this. It might be useful when we go
hunting buried treasure. I must say I prefer Gloriana to
Cap’n Flint, but for now, let’s just say you thought of the
name, not that I told you!”
There was a little silence for a moment, then Gloriana
went on. She spoke to them again, turning her head a little
so she looked straight at first one then the other of the
two children.
“This is important. Both of you must promise me,” said
Gloriana, “that you won’t talk to anybody about treasure,
or talk about me being able to have conversations, like we
are having now!”
“What about Mum and Dad?” Christopher asked.
Jennifer nodded her agreement that this was a good
question.
“Let’s wait a while,” said Gloriana. “I’ll tell them when
I think they are ready to be told or need to know. In the
meantime, only you two know my secret, and I want you
to promise on your honour not to tell anyone else.”
The twins agreed to this. They both made a solemn
promise to Gloriana, Scouts’ Honour for Christopher,
Girl Guides’ Honour for Jennifer. After another moment,
Gloriana went on:
“For many, many years I remembered everything,
every detail about everything, including the directions
to Flint’s treasure, until that rascal Lazarus Pew gave me
a really bad rum and vodka mixture one night last year. I
think he gave it to me hoping it would loosen my tongue so
I’d tell him all my secrets. But it acted like poison. It upset
my crop and my gizzard, and what’s worse, it wiped out
some important memories, made me forget the directions
to where the treasure is buried. My memory is starting to
come back. I’ve remembered that we have to line up a
headland on one side of the bay where the ship anchors,
and a big yellow rock at one end of a rocky outcrop on the
beach. We line up the headland on the other side of the
bay with something but I haven’t yet remembered what we
line it up with. Where the two lines cross is either where
the treasure is buried, or perhaps it’s just the first part of
more complicated directions to find the treasure.”
“Well, that’s a start,” said Jennifer.
“Not really,” Gloriana said. “The first, most important,
thing I have to remember is the longitude and latitude of
the island where the treasure is buried. Once we get to the
island, we use the other directions stored in my memory –
when I’ve fully recovered my memory – to find our way to
the treasure.”
Jennifer and Christopher had heard of longitude and
latitude but had only rather vague notions of what these
were. Gloriana explained that latitude is a measure of how
far a place is from the equator and the north or south pole.
Longitude measures how far east or west a place is from
an astronomical observatory at Greenwich on the River
Thames, a little way down river from the city of London in
England. If you know the latitude and longitude of a place
like a very small island you know exactly where it is on a
map, and you can find your way to it.
“How can we help you get all your memory back?”
Christopher asked.
Gloriana thought about this for a moment and said,
”To start with, a few good nights’ sleep would help all of
us. I’m much older than you two, and it’s past my bedtime.
I’m sure your Mum and Dad would be cross if they knew
you are still up and wide awake at this time of night. So
you both must go to bed and sleep now, and I’ll go to sleep
too. Perhaps tomorrow I will remember more, after a good
night’s sleep.”
They all had a good night’s sleep, then several weeks
more of good nights, but these didn’t help Gloriana
remember the longitude and latitude of the treasure island,
or restore any other lost memories.
One morning about two months later the family were
at the breakfast table and Gloriana was on her perch on
the veranda, chewing with pleasure a fresh crisp lettuce
leaf, having first rolled it up like the delivery boy rolled
the morning newspaper; she held the end in one claw, and
nibbled neatly at the other end with her powerful beak.
The rolled-up lettuce leaf shrank remarkably quickly to a
little green stub.
Over their breakfast Jennifer and Christopher were
playing one of their favorite breakfast table games, using
Vegemite to paint their initials on pieces of toast before
spreading it and eating their slices of toast. Sometimes,
and today was one of those times, they painted each
other’s initials instead of their own. Having picked up
a generous serving of Vegemite on her knife, Jennifer
painted a “C” and Christopher painted a “J” in cursive
capitals, the most difficult variation with the tasty black
paste. A few months earlier they had discovered that it was
easier to make artistic shapes with Vegemite if they let the
toast get cold before spreading a layer of butter on it. They
had become experts in spreading a smooth layer of butter
as a foundation on which a ribbon of Vegemite could be
steered wherever they wanted. If the toast was hot the
butter melted and soaked into the toast, and not only was
the Vegemite more difficult to shape they way they wanted,
it was also harder to see exactly where it was, especially
if the toast was a little bit burnt. After many unsuccessful
attempts to discourage this game, their parents had given
up and decided to tolerate it. Life was easier and happier
this way.
Partly so he wouldn’t have to watch the twins playing
the Vegemite game, Alec McLeod, was reading the morning
newspaper, even though Brenda said it was bad manners
and setting the twins a bad example. He exclaimed as
he read, “Goodness me, here’s a terrible story! That
pawnbroker who sold us the parrot has come to a bad end!”
He read a little of the story to his wife Brenda, and
the twins:
“Police made a gruesome discovery yesterday
when they forced open the door of the pawnshop on
Harbourside Road. They were responding to complaints
that the pawnshop had not been open as usual for several
days. Inside, they found the body of the proprietor, Mr.
Lazarus Pew. His body was tied to a chair and showed
signs of a severe beating. Police are investigating, but have
few clues.”
Jennifer and Christopher looked at each other with
alarm. Whispering softly, Jennifer asked Christopher
in their private language, “Do you think the way Mr.
Pew died might have had anything to do with Gloriana
knowing how to find the pirates’ treasure?”
Chris replied in the same private language, “I don’t
know. We’d best talk to Gloriana about it as soon as we
finish breakfast!”
After breakfast their Mum wanted the twins to run
an errand, to get flour, cocoa, sugar, vanilla and eggs, so
she could bake their favorite chocolate cake. They were
off school, which had been closed a week early, before
the spring school holidays, because of an outbreak of
meningitis, so they were just beginning three weeks of
holidays. After they had cleaned their teeth, made their
beds and tidied their rooms, they set off. Jennifer took
Gloriana on her shoulder so she could tell her the worrying
news about the pawnbroker’s grisly death.
When she heard their story, Gloriana said: “Of course
it might be nothing to do with me and the treasure, but
I’m worried: if it is me that someone wants to find, we
must be on the lookout. Lazarus Pew was a bad man. He
often disposed of stolen property and some of his ‘friends’
are scoundrels. I wouldn’t want you to come anywhere
near them!”
The twins always enjoyed running errands to the corner
store. The owners, Mr. and Mrs. Ruggles, knew them well,
let them have a free look at the comics, which they often
bought (for a penny – better spent on something to read
than on tooth-rotting toffee) and gave them a rainbow ball
for Jennifer and a licorice strap for Christopher to keep
their strength up during the 15 minute walk home. It was
the first time Mrs. Ruggles had met Gloriana so they had
to be introduced to each other, and Mrs. Ruggles had to
call Mr. Ruggles into the shop so he could be introduced
too, and could admire Gloriana. All this took time, so they
were in the corner store for more than 20 minutes before
completing their purchases and heading home.
Gloriana was feeling contented with her life for almost
the first time in over 200 years. She really liked the McLeod
family, especially Jennifer. Riding on Jennifer’s shoulder
felt almost as grand, and was at least as comfortable, as
riding in Good Queen Bess’s rather smelly old coach – and
Jennifer’s breath was sweeter than the old queen’s had
been. She was as upset as the twins when they got home
to find Brenda McLeod looking worried and frightened.
The twins and Gloriana all listened, concerned, as
Brenda spoke.
“Oh, children,” she said in a rather shaky voice, “I’m
so glad you are home safely! While you were at Mr. and
Mrs. Ruggles corner store I had a visit from three very
unpleasant men. They said the pawnbroker, Mr. Pew, had
no right to sell Cap’n Flint to us, and they demanded him
back. They threatened me! They said it would be the worse
for all of us if we didn’t give Cap’n Flint back to them!”
“Odds bodkins and shiver my timbers!” Cried Gloriana,
“It’s just as I feared! Those scoundrels are after me!”
Brenda McLeod looked in amazement at Gloriana, and
said, “Good gracious me! Are my ears playing tricks? Did
you hear what Cap’n Flint just said? How did Cap’n Flint
do that? He spoke like a human person would!” Before she
could ask more questions or Gloriana could say any more,
both twins spoke together:
“Mum, she’s a lady parrot. Her name is Gloriana,
not Cap’n Flint. She knows where the pirates’ treasure is
buried, but last year Mr. Pew gave her some rum mixed
with vodka, trying to relax her so she’ll tell him how to find
the treasure. Instead, the mixture damaged her memory.
It’s only just starting to come back. She has to remember
the latitude and longitude of the island where the treasure
is buried, and has to remember more about where to dig
for it.”
“What an extraordinary story! How do you know all
this?” Mum asked.
The twins looked at each other. Both were thinking,
“How much should we tell Mum?” Looking at them, Gloriana
could almost read their thoughts too. Before they could
say anything, Gloriana spoke:
“I told them,” she said. “I’m more than 300 years
old. I’ve learnt how to have real conversations, not just
memorize a few phrases like young parrots do. On the
first cold night after I came to live with you, Jennifer
wondered out loud if I was warm enough on the veranda,
and before I could stop myself, I said I was warm enough,
thank you very much, because feathers are very good
insulation. While I was about it, I told Jennifer I am a
lady parrot and my name isn’t Cap’n Flint. My name is
Gloriana, after Queen Elizabeth, Good Queen Bess, God
bless her, known to the poets as Gloriana. I was hatched
in Windsor Palace in January 1599, more than three years
before Queen Elizabeth died. I was presented to the
Queen at the court in January of the year of Our Lord 1600
and Queen Elizabeth herself named me Gloriana. What a
grand occasion that was! All the courtiers were there in
their finery, and everybody clapped and cheered each of us
as we were presented to Queen Elizabeth. I got the loudest
cheer of all! Good Queen Bess kept me in a golden cage in
her private chambers from that day onward until she died.
On special occasions she let me ride on her shoulder. Alas,
the special occasions were few and far between by then,
because Good Queen Bess was getting old and rather
crotchety – but she was always good to me.”
Gloriana paused to preen herself, carefully smoothing
the feathers on her wings and tail with her partly open
beak, then held herself erect, her head straight on her neck,
fluffed out her feathers and looking proudly forward. She
always wanted to look and behave at her best when talking
about royalty. She went on:
“I learnt the directions to find the treasure while I
was Flint’s prisoner. The pirates didn’t often talk about
their treasure and where they kept it, and they never
wrote anything down. Most of them can’t read and write.
But I was always there when they spoke of it. When Flint
told Long John Silver, I was sitting on Silver’s shoulder
quietly minding my own business, listening carefully, and
remembering it all. I went to the island once, on Silver’s
shoulder, the time Jim Hawkins was there too, and there
were gun fights between Squire Trelawney and his men,
and the pirates led by Long John Silver. All the details of
latitude and longitude were there in my head until Lazarus
Pew gave me that poisonous tot of rum spiked with vodka
that damaged my memory.”
Gloriana expressed all her disgust in her tone of
voice when she told the twins and their Mum about the
spiked rum that had damaged her memory. She made it
emphatically clear that although she loved her little tot of
rum, she disapproved of drinking alcohol to excess.
She went on talking, now with a rather urgent tone in
her voice.
“We should all leave here as soon as we can. Those
three bad men will be back, perhaps with others like them.
They all want the pirates’ treasure, and they think I’m
the only one who knows the directions to find it. When I
remember the rest of the details I probably will be the only
one who knows. They will probably try to harm you all as
a way to persuade me to tell them my secrets. We must all
get away to a place where they can’t find us!”
Brenda McLeod had the same adventurous spirit as
her twin children. To be truthful, they had inherited their
adventurous spirit from her. She believed what Gloriana
said, although many grown-ups might not. She made up
her mind quickly and told the twins what they had to do.
She said: “Jen, and Chris, pack your haversacks
with three changes of clothes, pajamas, socks, cardigan,
waterproof, towel, face cloth, toothbrush. I’ll telephone
your father, ask him to come home and pick us up. We can
all go to the shack. I’ve just got time to bake a chocolate
cake. It would be a shame not to use all the cake-making
supplies you got from Mrs. Ruggles!”
It took only a few minutes for her to mix the ingredients
for a chocolate
cake. As soon as it was in the oven she phoned her
husband and asked him to come home at once. By the
time the cake was cooked, she had packed rucksacks for
her husband and herself. She inspected and approved Jen’s
and Chris’s haversacks. She just had time to put a thick
layer of icing on the chocolate cake before Alec McLeod’s
car pulled into the lane beside the house. Alec was worried
and curious about the impression of urgency he had
detected in Brenda McLeod’s voice during her phone call.
Brenda didn’t tell Alec about the parrot’s unusual ability,
just that some unpleasant men were threatening her unless
she gave them the parrot. The whole family had become
very fond of the parrot and they were all determined not to
let Gloriana fall into the hands of men who were obviously
unpleasant, and probably violent and wicked.
Fortunately Alec McLeod was in his office at the
insurance company when she called and it was a quiet day
– because of the financial slump, the insurance business
had been very slow lately. He had decided to take overdue
holidays while the twins were off school, so it was just as
easy for him to start his holidays a day or two early.

31

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Radio talk

I have the radio on almost all the time as I sit in front of my keyboard and screen. It's tuned to CBC Radio One, and throughout the day a succession of mostly thoughtful, thought-provoking programs keep me in touch with the world and all that's going on in it. 

With trifling exceptions, CBC Radio One offers a series of programs from early morning until late in the evening, aimed at listeners with an IQ of 100 or more. Even the few exceptions, rather feeble attempts at humour that tends to be heavy-handed or just unfunny, sometimes stray by accident into stratospheric hilarity. Stuart McLean's Vinyl Cafe stories will be sadly missed. His untimely death has left all of Canada and much beyond, a poorer, sadder place. Most of the programs intended to stimulate the mind are successful, sometimes quite outstanding. None of them reach the heights of intellectual excellence of Lister Sinclair, but one or two come close and I get the feeling that they are improving rather than complacently resting on their laurels.   

When things fall apart

The North Koreans are getting stroppy again, test-firing an ICBM that they claim can reach Alaska and the west coast of USA, and can carry a nuclear bomb. Donald Trump is making predictable bellicose remarks. Few People doubt that he has a short fuse and an itchy trigger finger.

Somehow I find the situation much less ominous, much less threatening than the Cuban missile crisis. We were insulated from the Cuban missile crisis by distance -- it was going on a long way off on the other side of the world from where we were then, in Australia.  Even so, it was worrying, even frightening. The escalating tension between North Korea and the USA seems somehow unreal by comparison, but as events unfold in the next few days i might have to revise this view.

Trump is clearly unsuitable for his position as so-called leader of the so-called free world. He is shallow, ill-informed, volatile, often displays evidence of paranoid conduct (for instance his obsession with a mythical widespread voter fraud to explain the odd fact that some 3 million more votes were cast for Hillary Clinton than for him. The true explanation of course is gerrymandering at the electoral college lever in the bizarre US presidential  process. It's too much to hope that Trump's  obsession might lead to abolition of the electoral college, but it's nice to dream about the possibility... 

As for North Korea's bellicose behaviour, I can't help wondering whether the weird regime that runs North Korea is a puppet whose strings are being twitched by the Chinese. It's an interesting speculation.