"Help us collect the beans, quick!" Beanelda called out to Booccaneer, attempting a low voice as she and Luigi bent down to put the colourful Woo Beans into the barrel.
"What? Why?" the cleaner replied, uncomprehending at her posturing. "Our salvation is already on its way, who cares about stupid beans?"
"Because these are Dream Beans!"
Luigi was then up and about to find out what a ghost looked like when its own invisible heart went into its invisible pants: Booccaneer turned white. Whiter than usual. So white, in fact, that he lost his transparency. As if that wasn't enough, his eyes enlarged and his mischievous grin deformed into an oval maw.
"Coo Coo goop!" he thought fittingly of this revelation and picked up the mop. "Make way, but a little snappy, if you please!" He applied the bristles to the outermost bean, hesitated, then turned to Pira T. and asked, "And you? Are you just squatting and watching?"
"I'm inconsolable, but how am I supposed to help out with my old bones?" she shot back. "Besides, someone has to make sure my husband doesn't hurt himself!" Before Booccaneer slipped something nasty, Luigi intervened by pulling on the mop handle, "Just leave it at that. You really don't want to be on her bad side."
"Nonsense, I'll mop the floor with that hag!" His pugnacity born out of necessity, however, dwindled more and more the longer he looked at the rapidly shaking heads of his two compatriots, their faces exuding unmistakably "Don't do that". Thus, he finally gave up with a sigh, muttered "Useless extra" and turned to his task.
Despite their combined forces and the placed lamp, they were not spared the search in cracks and holes, as they had to make sure that no rainbows caught the attention of the rescue workers during the eventual walk-through. While the mop was initially useful in pushing the scattered beans into piles, the trio soon realised that the hard bristles were breaking them up, bringing even more potential finds to places that were sometimes difficult to access. In silent agreement that manual labour was better at that point, Booccaneer threw away his utensil and gathered up what he could with his stubby little arms. It didn't finish quicker, but after arduous drudgery and searching for crumbs, they put the lid on the barrel and squeezed it thoroughly; careful that it didn't open again at the most unfortunate moment.
"Well done, that should be it," said Beanelda as she fanned herself with her hat to cool down and catch her breath. "If anyone asks, we don't know anything, okay?" Luigi and, to his amazement, Booccaneer, nodded. Amazing how often Luigi agreed with his nemesis lately. No stupid comments, no dubious ideas, just pure agreement. Maybe he had misjudged him - even if they wanted to kill each other, there were always things on which they were pulling in the same direction.
But what now? Had they done everything in their power? Was there nothing more to do but wait? It seemed a little too easy to Luigi. After all, if something looked too easy, there had to be a catch.
"Well then, what do we do now?" poked Luigi for a problem they might have overlooked in the middle of their work. Beanelda hunched her shoulders, "Well nothing, what are we going to do? Our taxi will be here soon, after all." Exactly that put Luigi on alert and he opened and closed his hands uncontrollably. Something bad was coming, he knew from experience! And a lot could happen in the one hour until the ship arrived.
"But are we just going to sit around? Maybe we can do something to reinforce the masts."
"Now hold your breath and relax," Booccaneer said. "The chances of the Soup hen sinking by the time we get there are pretty close to zero unless the storm suddenly whips up a tsunami or something." He then pressed his arms together, grinned unusually friendly and spoke as he turned to everyone in the hold, "So if no one has a game with them, I'd suggest we just plonk ourselves down and chat a bit. About the weather, for example! That's what civilised people do, don't they?"
"Oh yes!" squeaked Beanelda cheerfully, causing Booccaneer's expression to turn ruefully to the opposite, "I have so much to tell you about my blog! All the great countries and ports I got to visit!" Luigi, however, glanced at the barrels and crates on the ship's sides with one hand on his chin. Followed a hunch that had settled like a barnacle on a ship's hull, and only left the host body once he had pursued it: was that barrel the only one with Dream Beans?
"Yes, young lady, that sounds very exciting," Booccaneer feigned interest with a forced smile. "So exciting that I'd rather go back to the cabin and talk to our rescuers. Because I think your tales are killing me with excitement. Again, I mean."
"Now, now, don't say that! You're going to miss out, I promise!" Already Booccaneer began to sift through the bow area, groaning, "Sure, I'll take your word for it, I ..." Until, wide-eyed, his breath caught, he pointed past her and blurted out, "Behind you! A three-headed Ukiki!"
"What, where!" she exclaimed in delight, spun around, reached into her non-existent bag, pulled out her equally non-existent camera and peered through the certainly non-existent lens. But then she paused. "Wait a minute, there's no mutant monkey! And my camera is still up in the cabin! Are you-" A glance over her shoulder, however, revealed that Booccaneer had disappeared. "...pulling my leg? Hello? Booccaneer?" Luigi, on the other hand, couldn't take his eyes off the barrels and was feverishly wondering where tools could be on board. For, in addition to the Dream Bean problem, there was another one that none of them seemed to have considered so far - wouldn't the containers have been heavy enough to penetrate the ship's sides like giant cannonballs? "Strange, why do people always mention something about a three-headed Ukiki and slink away whenever I want to tell them about my blog? I just don't get it." As if nothing could happen in one hour! An hour was all stormy waves needed! He had to do something! "But you, Luigi, old sea dog, understand me, don't you? You are aware of the cultural importance of old ships to our seafaring, right?" He then positioned himself behind the barrel and looked at Beanelda promptly. But she tossed her head with a groan and pouted: "Oh Luigi, please, not you too! But all right, I'll go to Pira T. and Goombekker! Even he's a better conversationalist asleep than the two of you together!" But Luigi didn't let up.
"That's perfectly fine. But before that, can you help me roll this barrel between the ribs on the floor, please?" She turned and looked at the musty spine that showed through the sparse planking of the hold from beginning to end.
"You mean the keel and the frames?"
"Exactly. Frames, keel, or whatever the skeleton of a ship is called."
"No problem, but for what?"
"I'd like to put it somewhere where strong swells won't suddenly turn it into a projectile, punching holes in our hulls and thus drowning us miserably." To his mounting frustration, however, she smiled at him.
"Luigi, we'll be fine, my goodness. First of all, the storm isn't here yet. And secondly, it should speak for the sturdiness of the Soup hen if it still sails despite hundreds of years under its belt, shouldn't it?"
"Granted, yes, but only to be on the safe side, you know? Just in case." She thought for a moment, then nodded and stood beside him. While they both carefully tipped the barrel to one side and rolled it gently, it didn't escape Luigi without a smirk how the roles were reversed here – was it Beanelda who had voiced her concerns about jet skis and the captain before they left, with Luigi as the voice of reason; now it was he who was annoying everyone with his worries. With the result that Beanelda was ultimately right. But that, it reassured him a little, was just coincidence, right? Tempting fate, nonsense. It only happened in films and on television! What were the odds that total chaos would break out in the next few seconds?
"Hold on!"
Both stopped instantly and looked up at the ceiling of the hold, as did Pira T.: Booccaneer was back. White and spooked, though, like when he helped with the beans. "Are you deaf?" he shouted when none of those present thought to move. "Hold on, I said!" Luigi, unsuspecting, was still preparing to ask why when a mighty blow struck the ship, the old wood of the hull groaned, and Luigi, Beanelda and Pira T. fell screaming to the side. The bad thing came sooner than estimated after all. "Guys, the barrel!" Luigi was the first to get to his feet on the now sloping floor; Faster than he could form a clear thought about what had just happened, he reacted to Booccaneer's cue and ran, the ghost coming from the other direction - too late: freed from the grasp of his hands, the barrel took on a life of its own, smashed into the side of the ship, lost its lid from the impact and scattered its Dream Beans like confetti at an escalated shore leave party. Luigi ruffled his hair in rage and Booccaneer bit his bandana over the undone efforts. However, Luigi's boots then slipped out of their grip, and he fell and slid onto his buttocks. Although he tried to thrust his soles into every possible crack in the planks, he crashed into the side of the ship where he stuck dazedly, his head facing the bow.
"Goombekker, no!" shrieked the old lady behind him, unusually shrill for her age; in response, Luigi tensed all his muscles to brace himself against being bombarded by an old, sleeping Goomba. And as unexpectedly expected, something soft hammered against his spine. Pinned down in this way, Luigi had to watch from the front row as barrels and crates began to move, rumbling and gaining speed on their way down.
"Luigi, wait!" shouted Booccaneer, but Luigi squinted his eyes shut - hoping, praying, trusting in his luck that so far there have always been happy endings. Two tinny thuds at the start, and then the creaking, tearing and splintering began. He pulled his eyelids even tighter, gritted his teeth, and endured the pain and the tears. He no longer paid attention to the screams of his comrades. The thunderous orchestra continued longer than expected as if the ship was finding more and more junk to throw against its side. And although the noise eventually ended and there was no splash, Luigi did not dare emerge from his protective blanket of darkness. Only when the ballast at his back gradually loosened and his feet found their footing did he open one eye slowly - at the sight of the chaotic pile of barrels and crates against the wall, he froze as if in a ship accident. He didn't want to see it. And yet his gaze lingered on the impact site. More green beans, spilling from open barrels. More green beans, broken open and gloatingly showing him their happy rainbow-coloured side. More prison sentences, more cellmates, more bad food. But no water. Would the junk plug the hole? Would a flood pour into the hold if it was cleared away? Like when the ship returned to its original inclination? Goosebumps came over him and he ran as soon as Goombekker broke away from him and someone else got busy with his bean trip. Again a clamour broke out, but nothing could tear him from his concentration now. With the physical effort of a Chargin' Chuck, Luigi threw himself against the pile, bracing himself until his head resembled a tomato, screaming for help as the ship began to tip to the other side.
"We've got other problems right now, Luigi!" Booccaneer replied to him in a rivalry of other voices, so Luigi turned his attention to the strange scene: Three people piling on a wildly biting Goomba trying to push it to the ground.
"You'll never take me alive, you beanmugs! I'll take you all to the grave with me!" Now Luigi understood. And sprinted off again. He didn't waste a single thought on how he could best help them. He simply functioned, ran on autopilot. An autopilot with limited programming, only allowing for a solution that had proven itself in dealing with Bowser's minions for decades. Thus, he leapt into the air, rolled his whole body forward once, came to a stop in a sitting position, and hurtled rump-first into Goombekker's face. His fellow passengers fled the impact zone at the last second.
Dust and splinters of wood flew about, and Luigi rose. His boots stood firmly on a Goomba, the formerly angry mushroom flat as a flounder, the large eyes complete with filling pupils staring into nothingness, and gasping from the wide-open mouth. And no one hundred points, nor coin for a defeated enemy.
"Oh, dear. Now I understand why Bowser's Goombas always panic when Mario shows up," Booccaneer commented reverently on Luigi's uncompromising conflict resolution strategy. "Great job, at least we got that issue settled. But now I need you upstairs, get a move on!" Afterwards, waking from her shock, Pira T. jostled Luigi off her husband, knelt next to Goombekker and pressed her face to his, sobbing. It was a scene that shut down Luigi's autopilot, allowing his mind to empathically process what had happened. The result of this hit him like a slap in the face, which is why he turned to Pira T. in dismay: "Oh God, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I just wasn't thinking, I ..." But Pira T. gave free rein to her tears. Luigi was about to start again when Beanelda pushed him away and whispered sternly, "I'll handle this. You go on deck with Booccaneer." The young lady then sat down with Pira T., while Booccaneer grabbed the helplessly stammering Luigi by the arm and dragged him along.
"But the beans, and the leak, and-"
"Forget the stupid beans. First, we have to make sure the next wave doesn't capsize us."
Just after they had climbed the steps into the tween deck and Luigi wished he had taken the lamp with him, the hull creaked again. Out of the dark, the same rumble as below rang out as the Soup hen was hit once more. The sudden jolt caused Luigi to fall over and slid against the side of the boat, but this time Booccaneer rushed over immediately and, with a "No time for shenanigans, hurry!", pulled him back up. Luigi didn't want to imagine what it looked like further ahead. But the rain from the sounds alone was pelting down on the stairs outside, literally turning into a small stream that gathered in the hull and flowed out through the open hatch into the hold. Climbing over the pensioners' deck chairs, the first puddles reached his trousers - too late, so that he completely submerged his boots and socks in the water. He grumbled, but asked afterwards as he became aware of a new danger in the process, "Shouldn't we get the water out?" A grim "Later" was all, but still answer enough.
At the stairs, amounts upon amounts of water washed over his face. Raindrops whipped his skin relentlessly, and the opening acted as the only drain for everything that accumulated above. Step by step he had to shimmy up the slippery planks with his hands, and although Booccaneer reached under his arms, it was slow going as the storm seemed to push him back inside. But if ghosts could not defeat him, neither could rain! His clothes wet enough to fill buckets if he wrung them out, and his cap pulled down lower on his face, he made it to the main deck.
Without the protection of the hull, he fully exposed himself to the elements: the wind welcomed him with a thunderous howl, against which masts braced themselves, like mighty trees firmly rooted to the ship. Jagged, brightly shining spears pierced the waves. Discharges loud as cannon fire, hits again and again in the pit of the stomach and against the eardrums. And in it, all alone, and its best days long gone, tossed about like a toy in the bathtub, an old carrack. Was this what the end of the world looked like?
But there was nothing final about fate, and in an act of defiant courage, he stood wide-legged before the wind could knock him over. In this way, shielding his face with his elbow, he trudged to the quarterdeck: the raindrops bombarded him almost sideways from an angle which even his cap was powerless against. So powerless that Luigi's reflexes, trained for years, kindled, sending his hands shooting upwards. There, where he missed some weight from one moment to the next.
"My hat!", he uttered, panic-stricken, and took off in pursuit - Booccaneer breathing fire and brimstone after him. Luigi ran, eyes fixated on the green cap dancing in the wind in front of him, towards the ship's side. His identity, a part of his soul, was fast. But Luigi would be faster with the jump from the edge. Just then he lowered his torso for a daredevil stunt when his shirt was grabbed from behind and his chase ended ungently on his bottom. A few feet from his face, his iconic headgear sailed unimpeded until the darkness swallowed it, never to return.
"I swear, sometimes I think I'm the only one here who isn't a total moron!" Luigi, however, looked wistfully behind. Even when Booccaneer pulled him along again, Luigi kept his attention on the world beyond the ship's side, waiting like a lover on the pier for his partner to return. But the sea gave nothing back just like that. And what it did give back might have been best left in the sea.
"Luigi, listen!", Booccaneer let his voice struggle loudly against the storm, the direct address awakening Luigi from his apathy. "Change of plans! We must head for the rescue ship, whatever the cost! By the time they reach us in this chaos, we'll be fish food!"
"But they'll arrest us for the beans!"
"If I were you, I'd rather worry about not dying one of the most horrible deaths ever. Believe me when I say you really don't want that." Luigi opened his mouth to ask how Booccaneer would know that, but he beat him to it: "And I speak from experience." These words went through Luigi like a short but nevertheless intense electric shock. Questions shot into his head, only delivering more shocks until he forced himself to think of the tiller.
"Yeah, you're right," Luigi readily admitted, but then addressed something that just occurred to him, "But why do you need me for that? Can't you set the course yourself, and I'll be downstairs trying to plug holes meanwhile?"
"Because the stupid stick won't move a millimetre, despite the power steering."
"Excuse me, what? Since when have there been rudders with power steering?"
"I don't know, but don't question it! The captain couldn't have steered the tub any other way."
"And yet you can't move the tiller?"
"What can I say, not having muscles is kind of unfortunate. But you do have some, so maybe you can do it despite having skinny little arms." Grinning gleefully, Luigi let his heart be warmed by the proof that with a body of flesh and blood, he was superior to ghosts, at least in that respect. And with this advantage, as well as the new goal in mind, Luigi intended to take the next steps in the usual way. This would prove to be a time-consuming feat of strength due to the wet planks, and because of the danger of slipping, not exactly harmless. Being below deck for so long, however, made him forget one small, yet important detail: He no longer had a roof over his head. And where there was plenty of space, there was also enough room to quickly overcome height differences. Smiling, he freed himself from Booccaneer's grip, who then turned questioningly, and went into a run. With one step he shifted his weight to a spot, one fist thrust skyward, and catapulted himself into the air. And with Booccaneer as his audience, Luigi demonstrated his famous skills as a jumper, who had just surmounted an entire flight of stairs in one leap and landed on the tween deck.
"Not bad, sir!" applauded Booccaneer appreciatively after a whistle, which gave Luigi new courage and impetus for another sprint. In the process, however, he hit a particularly slippery surface, skidded across the ground with his face contorted in surprise, collided with the tiller and fell onto his back. But as before, Booccaneer was on hand, and wordlessly, yet grumbling, pulled him back to an upright position.
"I'm ready, where are we going?" asked Luigi after he had thanked Booccaneer for his help. "You said something about a spotlight, but I can't see anything."
"Wait, I'll go up and have a look." As Booccaneer then floated up the mast, Luigi turned the key completely and woke the much younger engine from sleep. Younger, however, did not necessarily mean more reliable, and so he hoped that the engine would not finally say goodbye under the coming strain. Luigi then looked at the gauges: while they normally lit up permanently after a bit of waiting, this time they didn't stop flickering as if a short circuit was imminent. Was this their way of telling him the state of the ship? Caught somewhere between life and death, and to either side of the threshold all it took was one step? By then, the low fuel level no longer mattered to Luigi, as he wouldn't be able to burn it all in this one hour until the encounter anyway. What gave him a headache, however, was the maximum credible accident that could be expected, namely capsizing. How would he be able to free Beanelda and the seniors from the upturned hull before the ship sank? The mental scene of three people locked in a wooden prison, screaming in fear as they were dragged into the depths of the ocean, made him grip the oarlock with a hard expression - immediately his limbs froze except for his arms and hands, stiff as the floating wood as if his feet had merged with the ground, his body now part of the Soup hen. The counterpart to the figurehead: uselessly mounted behind the rudder, where he robbed a real helmsman of his place.
Luigi gulped heavily. Pure, concentrated responsibility flowed through the stick and entered his veins unchecked via his fingers. Three lives were resting on his shoulders. Three anchors of immeasurable weight. His legs shuddered, ready to collapse. But he could not let go. How could he? To back down now would mean giving up. What would have happened to his friends, Jeremiah, and Mario, at the hotel if, by whatever route, he had fled first and escaped by bus? Sure, he had an oar instead of a Poltergust, the storm instead of ghosts, a ship instead of a hotel, and a Boo for a companion instead of a Polterpup. But was it not otherwise the same game? He had won that one, albeit by the skin of his teeth, and that was what should have cheered him up. Unfortunately, his fears came up with a certain phrase there, which pounced on him mercilessly from a shadow: new game, new luck. At some point, as everyone knows, luck runs out. And this game looked like it needed enough for a six in the lottery. So far, he had never won the lottery, thus Luigi's head reserved the rest of his brain, which was not taken over by fear, for making a will. Only to stop a few seconds later, because he didn't know anyone who would want his pathetic junk. Except for Wario, for sale. He hated his life.
"Starboard, starboard!" came down to him from Booccaneer a moment later, almost on cue. These words washed a wave of clarity over Luigi and snatched him from the clutches of his paralysing fears so that he immediately sprang into action and gripped the rudder tightly. Before changing direction, however, he needed to know something important.
"Which way is starboard?"
"Right, landlubber!"
"Thank you!"
Luigi turned the control to full power, so that a low hum mingled with the deafening cacophony of the storm, and wanted to turn the ship around. But that's when the weather proved its sense of drama: by sheer convenient coincidence, another lightning strike revealed to both heroes that something was rolling towards the ship from the side. A hill? No, a mountain, black as the sky. Booccaneer commented eloquently on the sight with an "Oh Fungus!" while Luigi shrieked and wrapped himself around the tiller to exert not only his biceps but also his chest and legs. Mobilising his whole body for the task of pushing, he moved the stick to the right. It squeaked and bent slightly to the side, but despite modern technology, Luigi fought for every inch. Whatever the cause, whether the mechanism needed restoration or the sea was throwing wave after wave against the rudder, it seemed to be actively pushing against him. This was also the case when Luigi, already with white knuckles, a bright red head and a numb feeling in his muscles, managed to push the tiller to the very limit. Still, it did not give up, much like a ghost in the suction of the Poltergust. If Luigi let up for even a second, it would surely push him away and knock the Soup hen off course. Or if something, or someone, disturbed his concentration. For example, by Booccaneer's enraged screech, "Dude, are you stupid or something? Are you trying to kill us?" It came as it had to - Luigi looked up, let his focus drag, and the tiller pushed him away.
"What, I'm steering to the right!" Luigi defended himself just as angrily, now pressing against the stick with his back.
"That's not a steering wheel, you retard! Tillers work the opposite way!" As if the weather had been waiting for such a moment again, it sent a bolt of lightning crashing into the sea, lighting up the surroundings; showing them how much time they had left before impact - just enough for the brain to perceive the liquid wall. And to cut their fingers into the wood.
A force strong as an explosion shook the Soup hen, hurling floods over the side of the boat, tilting Luigi's world as he lost the ground beneath his feet and they reflexively searched for support against an almost vertical wall. The impact was too sudden for clear thought, even something as simple as screaming. When Luigi finally had the idea, only saltwater spurted from his mouth. But when he dared to look where the floor had been earlier, it took his breath away: a toothless maw of immeasurable size as far as the eye could see. A dark void that stretched endlessly into the depths. There, where many victims had found their final resting place, and wanted to take Luigi into their ranks. And above it, the elongated outlines of the masts and sails that jutted far overboard. The creaking and splintering pierced through his bones, making him shiver and grunt as if the ship shared the pain with him. Shouldn't the Soup hen be rocking to the opposite side by now? Did the masts prevent it from doing so? Wouldn't they perhaps even cause it to capsize? But one thing bothered him more than these three questions put together: Why didn't they break in two? He heard them tearing! And while he was at it, and he looked up: how could this thin old stick hold his weight?
A burning and stinging sensation in his arms and hands, however, alerted him to the fact that the mind alone could not overcome the limits of his body, of physics, forever - immediately the first finger came loose from the wet grip, and the next trembled before it slowly slipped off. Whimpering softly and pressing his lips together, Luigi stared towards the abyss for the second time. Only the ship's side stood between him and a demise Booccaneer had warned him about. Would it stop Luigi, or let him through like a cannonball?
Thinking of Booccaneer, he looked around. Where was his partner, anyway? Not a glow. Not even a dirty laugh that mocked his situation. Luigi called out his name while groaning. What came out of his mouth, however, he couldn't understand over the noise. Did Booccaneer hide and left him to his fate? Was it wrong from the start to trust a Boo?
Still amid his "No, yes, no, yes!" mental chatter, the third finger slipped from his grasp, and from then on there was no stopping. After a few seconds, the rest followed, and he found himself in a nightmare that had become real: on a slide into the depths. Faster and faster, with no end in sight, and neither would it be painless, nor would there be an awakening. There was an end, but it was still a long way.
Luigi slid so smoothly on the planks that it could have been an ice rink. Wetness and angle joined together to form a diabolical duo, sending the ship's side and the sea hurtling towards him. First a bump as if from a fall from a great height - and then his upper body folded up. He no longer felt any hold – the images before his eye changed rapidly from planks, black water, a white sky, lightning, and again from the beginning. Freedom in its purest form. This time he screamed.
Until the weightless chaos ended abruptly with a jolt and for a moment all the blood in his body rushed to his head. His hands dipped into the burning cold water and all he saw was blackness.
"Oh man, you eat too much pasta!"
Luigi couldn't believe his ears. He looked down in disbelief at where the voice was coming from - a glowing white body was holding him by his legs. And only when the "floor" shone for a second like a bright day did he realise that he was hanging upside down. At the latest when a wave washed over his head and he coughed up water.
"Booccaneer?" asked Luigi in amazement, undecided whether this was real or some kind of near-death experience.
"Sorry I'm so late. I had to rush to check on the others when the freak wave hit." Grunting, Booccaneer dragged the weakly laughing Luigi back onto the ship, which had righted itself in the interlude, but dropped him just before he hit the ground.
"Hey, what the heck!" clamoured Luigi after he had, as had become customary when he fell unfortunately, readjusted his nose.
"Shut up and get back to the helm!", Booccaneer ignored his complaint and wiped the leftover liquid from his forehead. "And this time steer to the other right!"
Luigi reluctantly denied himself further comment on the treatment, but threw challengingly at him, "And you? What are you doing?"
"Well lookout, what else! Somebody's got to call the shots!" The sudden gush of steam over Luigi's hair, however, convinced Booccaneer not to push it too far and he added more temperately, "But Beanelda said she was going to help you out. Should be coming up any minute."
With this information kept from exploding for the moment, Luigi ran to the helm again while Booccaneer took up his old post, and this time he steered to the other right. To his astonishment, however, it was much easier this time. Whereas before he had had to fight with his entire body, his biceps pushed the tiller as if Luigi had trained the strength of Supertoad within minutes. Or the supposedly existing power steering worked again. He didn't notice anything about a change of direction, but he could imagine that a ship of this size took a while. Again, he had no choice but to wait. For Booccaneer to give a signal. Waiting while he used the rudder as a handhold whenever the sea rocked the ship. Like the next freak wave.
"Luigi, Luigi!"
Now smiling, he looked down at the main deck and replied, waving, "Here, at the helm!" when the next wave taught him not to give up a hand for unimportance - he promptly faltered, slipped and twirled once around the tiller in the process.
"Stop this nonsense at once!" roared Booccaneer posthaste from the crow's nest, and Luigi scowled and scrambled to get up, double-handed back to work. Beanelda then stuck her head over the last step and called out, "Can you help us climb up, please? This is really tiring for their old bones!" Luigi glanced fleetingly at the rudder. Could he leave the ship to its own devices for a few seconds? Or would seconds be all his bad luck needed to drown them?
"I'd love to, I really would!" replied Luigi regretfully after a moment's thought. "But I have to steer the ship or we'll drift completely into nothingness!" He reluctantly but necessarily accepted stirred tempers for better chances of survival.
"Very well, then maybe Booccaneer wants to be a gentleman! Right?"
"Thank you, but I must look out for the rescue ship!" Beanelda huffed in annoyance.
"Typical men, only let the women do everything!"
Luigi and Booccaneer merely cast wry glances at each other before Beanelda climbed the steps, puffing like a steamer, with Pira T. doing the same, clutching her hand. When Luigi thought about it like that, it was quite an achievement to struggle through a constantly moving ship at an advanced age. Yet another reason not to mess with Pira T. And all the more reason - Luigi squinted and tilted his body slightly to the side to avoid looking directly at her - to fear her revenge. Because where was Goombekker?
"Just a few more steps honey, hang on." Staggering, Pira T. in turn pulled the silhouette of a mushroom up the stairs by its mouth. With that, the question had vanished into thin air, and was subsequently replaced by the next one: shouldn't he better jump into the water? A Toad harbouring a beast in its mortal shell and a militarily trained, or at least violence-prone Goomba, focused on a common opponent - that would make for a slaughter. Could friendly courtesy at least prevent a murder conspiracy?
"Thank the creator, I'm glad to see you! Are you all right?" Pira T. and Goombekker were silent, presumably because they were too busy gasping for air, and Beanelda replied between pauses for breath, "A few bruises from the last wave, but otherwise nothing serious."
"Great! But were there any leaks? Did stuff flying around punch holes, I mean?"
"Can I take them to the cabin first, please?" replied Beanelda gruffly, which made Luigi wince in embarrassment and he excused himself. She then turned to the pensioners, "Don't droop, you must keep radio contact with the rescue ship!" For Luigi the sign to return to active ignoring. He vowed to draw a cross in his calendar for each of the senior citizens who didn't hit or swear at him as they walked past. First Beanelda for warming up, followed by Pira T. Her gasp amidst the din was nothing more than one sound among many, merely perceptible while concentrating on it. Finally Goombekker, whose proximity made Luigi's body tingle unpleasantly like a barber holding hundreds of running electric shavers against his skin. But he also passed him, breathing heavily. Luigi wanted to look over his shoulders to make sure they weren't stabbing him in the back, but then didn't dare and stubbornly looked ahead. Only after he heard the door to the cabin slam did he relax. Even more so when Booccaneer spoke up, "Keep holding to the left, but you should already be able to see the lights!"
Luigi scanned the horizon between the waves - for a moment a white dot on the water sparkled at him, only to go out in the next blink of an eye. Disappointed, he dismissed it as imagination, but then he spotted another dot, this time in green. Unlike the white one, it remained after the blink, and both then even flickered together. Like paired lighthouses disappearing beneath the waves at irregular intervals, they promised Luigi the closest thing to a safe haven. On a night like this, even the smallest lights seemed like suns. And suddenly the next morning was no longer a pipe dream.
Behind him, the door creaked again, and Beanelda's voice announced with solemn glee: "Mission successful! We have both safely tucked away and with something meaningful to do!" She then staggered to Luigi, but a frontal sea attack shook the deck and she lost her balance in the home straights. This time, however, Luigi was quicker and grabbed her hand to prevent the same thing from happening to her as had occurred to him before. Together they watched as the bow dipped beneath a watery wall, the wave rolling further towards the centre and pouring into the deck below. How much longer before the Soup hen collapsed under the loads? And how much draft did they already have? Wasn't the hold already underwater?
While Luigi helped Beanelda up and she held on to the oar, he returned to his concern from earlier, "Tell me, before you came up," Luigi asked quietly before concern of the answer rose in him, "were there any leaks? Did the barrels and other stuff flying around punch holes in the walls?" Silently he prayed that Beanelda's words formed any sentence other than "Yeah, the hold is full and we're all going to die."
"Didn't notice anything, but I also didn't pay attention to it." Then she sighed and added worriedly, "Except Dream Beans, the whole hold is full of the stuff now. Enough to put us away for several lifetimes."
Relieved, despite the prospect of a life behind bars, Luigi decided to skirt the issue and share his observations with her, "Don't you think the Soup hen is, well, pretty tough for its age and condition? Not that I'm complaining about it or anything." Beanelda shrugged cluelessly.
"Probably just built to be very robust. There are some very sturdy woods, after all. Although, now that you mention it, I do wonder a bit."
Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by roars from the cabin, which they could undoubtedly attribute to Goombekker - who else. Luigi was already preparing to leave the helm to Beanelda when they heard the old man's words clearly despite the noise surrounding them.
"You must be joking! What do you mean you can't help us? I demand to speak to your superior, right now!"