Five

The Captain made his way back to his cabin. He was troubled now. Within two seconds of seeing Tintin they'd discovered dynamite. Sailors had a lot of superstitions, but this was more like a cosmic hint. The lad was bad luck. He probably didn't mean to be, poor sod, but sometimes people were touched by bad luck whether they liked it or not. This, he decided, was to be his last association with Tintin.

He slowed down as, ahead, someone dressed all in black disappeared into his cabin. "You guzzling twister!" he hissed. "Come back for another shot at it, have you? Well, Captain Haddock ain't for blowing up, my friend!" He followed the man into the cabin at a run and grabbed him. With a vicious tug that lifted the man off-balance, he started to punch.

x

Tintin retraced his steps to the Captain's cabin. He'd found his own bunk pretty quickly, but he'd left his suitcase behind and he needed to go and retrieve it. He had just about reached the Captain's cabin when he heard the noise of a tremendous fight. The Captain was shouting ("You rat! You blackguard! Dynamiter! Shipwrecker!") and another voice was crying for help repeatedly and loudly. Tintin ran to the cabin and pulled the door open in time for Captain Haddock to fall out of the room, dragging a man in black with him. "Come on, centipede," the Captain growled, keeping a firm grip on the man in black, "let's see you in the daylight!"

"Captain! No!" Tintin cried. He grabbed a hold of the Captain's arm and tried to pull him away. "That's Professor Phostle! He's leading the expedition!"

"I shall complain!" Phostle was shouting. "I shall complain to the Captain!"

"Oooh!" The Captain let go of the professor straight away. "I'm terribly sorry, pal."

"Professor Phostle," Tintin said quickly, "allow me to introduce our captain: Captain Haddock. You must forgive him: we've already discovered a sabotage attempt."

"Sabotage!" Phostle looked from the Captain to Tintin, his jacket and tie askew. "That can't be possible!"

"It is," the Captain replied. "We just found a stick of dynamite on the deck."

"Back here," Tintin added. "It's just down here: come and see for yourself." They hurried back along the deck, to where they had left the dynamite. "Ah!" said Tintin. "I can see you've already had someone dispose of it, Captain."

"Me?" Haddock cried. "I've done nothing! Who am I supposed to get that'll dispose of dynamite! How do you even do that?"

"Then where is it?"

"How the hell should I know? Are you sure it was here?"

"Positive: there's Snowy's… er… you know." Tintin pointed at the small puddle of wee. "It was right here, Professor Phostle. It can't have been two minutes since we left it! I don't understand."

"Extraordinary," Phostle said thoughtfully. "So there's a stick of dynamite somewhere on this ship? Er, should we get off then? Call the police and let them find it?" They looked at each other, unsure of what to do next. Their uncertainty was echoed by the gloomy ringing of a bell. Captain Haddock cocked his head.

"That's the ship bell," he said at last. "Who the flaming hell is at the wheel?"

"Is there a reason the bell shouldn't be ringing?" Phostle asked as they hurried after Captain Haddock.

"Because to ring the bell, you need to be at the wheel," the Captain replied shortly, "and because I'm the captain, there shouldn't be anyone at the wheel until I give 'em an order. It's sort of like driving another man's car," he explained as he started up the metal ladder that led to the upper deck, "or shagging his wife: you don't do it until he gives you permission."

"Charming," Tintin said.

"But true," the Captain pointed out. He opened the door to the bridge: there was nobody inside. "Nobody here," he said quietly. He was puzzled. Captain Haddock didn't like being puzzled. Not while he was sober.

"Hey, Captain!"

Haddock turned. Outside, Tintin was leaning over the railing and pointing down. "There's someone asking for you," he called.

"Now what's the problem?" the Captain asked irritably. He stormed back out of the bridge and leaned over the railing. "Who's there?" he shouted.

A tall, plumpish man with a fedora hat and a long black raincoat stepped into view, craning his neck as he searched for the loud voice. He had, Tintin saw, a magnificent black moustache that curled at either end.

"By Christ," the Captain muttered, "It's an evil magician!" He raised his voice and ignored Tintin's giggles as he hailed the man. "Can I help you, mate?"

"My name is Professor Cantonneau," the man shouted back in a thick, French accent. "I would like to speak to the captain."

"Aye, that's me," the Captain replied. "I'll be down in a minute. This another of your scientists?" he added to Tintin. They headed back down to the lower deck.

"Yes," Tintin confirmed. "He's a molecular biologist and anthropologist from the University of" –

BANG!

They jumped, startled, at the huge noise. "Was that the dynamite?" the Captain asked, his voice hunted.

"I don't think so." Tintin took what was left of the steps at two-at-a-time. "If it was, we'd all be dead. Come on!"

They headed towards where the noise had come from, with Professor Phostle at their heels. Along the deck, and around to where Professor Contonneau had been waiting for the Captain. He lay, stretched out on the wood, beside the wreckage of what had once been a hard, black suitcase. A few pairs of socks and a pair of boxer shorts were scattered around him.

"What the flaming hell happened here!" the Captain cried.

"What happened to him?" Phostle asked.

Tintin kneeled down beside the man and felt carefully for a pulse. When he found one, he breathed a sigh of relief and tried to wake the man. "He's alive," he said. "Professor Contonneau? Can you hear me?"

"But what happened?" Phostle said again.

"He must have tripped over his suitcase," the Captain said as he picked up the case and tried to stuff everything back inside. "Ha! Silly sod has lost his underpants!"

Tintin stared at the boxer shorts. "But," he said, "those are mine!" They were his lucky blue underpants: he'd recognise them anywhere. Blushing, he almost dropped Professor Contonneau as he hurriedly stuffed the shorts into his pocket and tried to block out the Captain's snort of laughter.

Professor Contonneau groaned as he regained consciousness. He managed to lever himself up onto one elbow. It was a good job he did: Tintin stood up a second later and snatched the suitcase from the Captain. "Wait a minute," he said. "I left this in your cabin, Captain."

"In my cabin? Coo! So you did!"

"That means someone's been in your cabin!"

"Ruddy hell! Is nothing sacred?"

"I'm alright, by the way," Professor Contonneau said weakly.

"Oh, yes." Tintin and the Captain helped the professor up, and tried to look more concerned. "Are you alright, doctor?" the Captain said sympathetically.

"Can you remember what happened?" Tintin asked eagerly.

"I, I don't know," Professor Contonneau said as he got to his feet. "I felt… a frightful blow to my head… Like a huge weight had been dropped on me."

"Must've been your pants," the Captain whispered to Tintin.

"Shush! And stop laughing like that! Oh!" Tintin stopped when he realised that the mocking laughter was coming from above them. Far, far, above them…

"There's someone up in the crow's nest!" the Captain shouted, his face clouding angrily. "What the flaming hell are you doing up there!"

"It is I, the Judgement come upon you!" the man roared. With one fist raised in the air, and the cloudy sky behind him, he looked apocalyptic and Tintin recognised him at once. "I am Philipous the Prophet, and I have given you good warning!"

"This crazy guy again!" Tintin said, exasperated.

"You know him?" the Captain said. "Why am I even bothering to ask?" he added, annoyed. "If it's a psychotic person, of course they know Tintin."

"He thinks he's God's prophet," Tintin explained, ignoring the insult.

"That's not a real job!" the Captain shouted up at Philipous.

"He must of dropped the suitcase on Professor Contonneau," Phostle said.

"I did!" Philipous shouted back. "And here is a pretty rocket I have found." At this moment, he produced the stick of dynamite and a plastic lighter. "Now we'll have a beautiful fireworks display, while we pray to God for his Judgement."

"That crazy bastard!" The Captain watched in horror as Philipous lit the dynamite. "He'll blow us all to Kingdom come!"

Tintin hadn't survived the apocalypse just to get blown up now. He darted forward and started to climb the rigging on the mainmast. If he could get up to the crow's nest in time, he stood a chance at getting the dynamite away from Philipous before it blew up.

"In a few seconds," Philipous was shouting, "this will go; 'Wooooooosh!'" He held the dynamite up for them to see: the fuse was getting visibly shorter with each passing second.

Tintin was halfway up the rigging when Philipous spotted him. "You! I recognise you!" The prophet made the sign of the cross and cringed away from the edge of the crow's nest. "You're the servant of Satan! Wretched, foul beast! Be gone from me! Be gone, I say!" He pulled back his arm and threw the dynamite in Tintin's direction.

"Crap!" Tintin looked up and saw the dynamite sailing straight at him. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, and almost let go of the rigging in shock when the dynamite clubbed him on the head. Seeing stars, he clung to the rigging and waited for the boom.

"Oh my great shite!" It was almost reassuring to hear Captain Haddock swearing. "Thundering typhoons, that was a close one! It's in the water, lad!" He turned to Professor Phostle. "Bloody hell, I thought that we were a goner! It looked like it was going to explode before it hit the water. Thank God for that!"

High above them, Tintin opened his eyes and managed to breathe. He was shaky – it wasn't often that he got dynamite hurled at him with seconds left on the fuse – but he was determined not to break. He looked up. "Great snakes!" he cried. Philipous was out of the crow's nest and climbing higher! "What are you doing? For God's sake, get down from there!"

"Do not take the Lord your God's name in vain!" Philipous retorted as he clambered up the mainmast. "Do not speak of God or Heaven, only of Hell! You will never cast me down, sinner!"

Tintin climbed higher, and reached the crow's nest. He waited there for a second, before realising that Philipous was climbing to get away from him. He was insane, clearly: he might even jump rather than let Tintin help him down. "Ok," Tintin called. "You win. Look, Mr Prophet, I'm going to go down now. Is that ok?"

"Yes! Go down! Return to the shades of Hell, from whence you never should have strayed! Down to your Master, imp! Down to the fiery depths of Hades, demon!"

"Yep, straight down," Tintin agreed. "Why don't you climb down too? I'm going now, and I won't bother you again, so it's safe."

"Higher!" Philipous roared. "Higher and higher, that's my motto!"

On deck, Professor Phostle was becoming quite distressed. He watched Philipous climb to the very top of the rigging as Tintin arrived back on the deck with a thump. "Keep him busy, professor," the teenager said as he jogged past the group. "I think I know what to do."

"Er, Captain?" John, the Captain's First Mate for the voyage, signalled the Captain discretely. "There's a few men here. The kind with the white coats and the snug jacket?"

"Do they have a padded van?" Haddock asked.

"They do, Captain."

"Fan-flaming-tastic!" The Captain glared up at Philipous. "What a brilliant start to a voyage."

"Philipous!" Phostle was shouting. "My dear fellow, do you remember me? I was your boss at the observatory? We worked together for years, Philipous! Please! Come down!"

"You are not Phostle," Philipous declared. "You have assumed his shape, but you are a fiend from Hell. You are not Phostle!"

"No, but I'm Captain Haddock, by thunder!" the Captain roared. "I am in command of this ship, and I order you to come down right this minute! And be bloody quick about it!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Philipous replied, "but I only take orders from above! I'm staying here, because God wants me to be here!"

"PHILIPOUS?" a booming, ominous voice asked.

Up at the top of the mainmast, Philipous the Prophet almost let go of the rigging in shock. He looked around for the source of the voice.

"PHILIPOUS. CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

"Y-yes!"

"THIS IS GOD SPEAKING."

"I-is it?"

"DO YOU DOUBT ME? I WHO AM?"

"Er…"

"YOU WERE TO BE MY PROPHET, AND NOW YOU DOUBT ME?" The voice of God sounded annoyed.

"No!" Philipous shouted. "No, not at all, God!"

"Have I gone mad?" Captain Haddock asked. "Have I gone loopy or can everyone else hear that?"

"It's Tintin," Phostle replied, amused. "He's using the PA system."

"PHILIPOUS, WE HAVE MUCH LEFT TO DO. THE WORLD WILL NOT END YET. YOU MUST DO MY WORK. DO YOU AGREE?"

"Yes! Yes, anything, Lord!"

"THEN CLIMB DOWN. BUT DON'T BREAK YOUR NECK. WATCH YOURSELF. AND WHEN YOU'RE DOWN, GIVE CAPTAIN HADDOCK A HUG. NO, JUST KIDDING!"

Tintin reappeared as Philipous reached the deck. The teenager was grinning from ear to ear. "Did he try to hug you?" he asked the Captain.

"Cheeky sod. No he did not!" They stood side by side and watched as the men in white coats escorted Philipous off the Aurora.

"His family checked him in when all this meteor business started," the foreman of the ambulance crew told them. "His mind just lost it, poor man. He escaped early this morning and we've been looking for him all day."

When Philipous was loaded into the back of the special van, and the Aurora was restored to her former peace, Captain Haddock glared at Tintin. "Blistering barnacles. This is a great start, don't you think?"

"What?" Tintin radiated innocence. "It wasn't that bad."

Author's Note: There might be a very short, extra chapter up either today or tomorrow. It's not very long, and it's nothing to do with the story, but it doesn't quite suit the start of the next chapter, and it didn't quite suit the end of this chapter either.

Thanks for the reviews, everyone!