Six

As the day wore on, the ship's crew started to board. They came in dribs and drabs at the start, but after dinner more and more showed up together, talking and cracking jokes about the trip ahead. Most of the engineers had worked together before, and with Captain Haddock, and they all knew the ship's cook, Bill, who was a very old friend of the Captain's: they had served together, although Bill's active service seemed to consist of a few years worth of potato peeling in the Isle of Wight. The research team – the crowd of unpaid interns who were undergraduates from the universities represented – formed a fast clique, which the scientists were a peripheral part of. As a result of not-quite-fitting-in with either of the two crews, Tintin found himself in the Captain's cabin come night-fall.

"Not going ashore?" the Captain asked. They were sitting at the desk – now free from clutter seeing as most of it was in the bin which, as a consequence, was now overflowing – and lazing. Tintin had a cup of hot chocolate while the Captain was drinking a can of beer. There were very few people left on board now: both the ship's crew and the science crew had taken off - in separate groups - for a meal and final, farewell drink before the ship sailed in the morning.

"Nah," Tintin said. He poked Snowy with his foot. The dog stopped licking himself long enough to deliver a withering look. "I live in Brussels: it's not a novelty to me."

"Still. I would have thought you'd be out with your friends. Sort of a last hurrah before buggering off for a few months."

"Nope. Not if I have to be up early tomorrow for this leaving ceremony thing."

"Oh, you don't have to go to that," the Captain scoffed. "I wouldn't go, if I wasn't the Captain."

"I have to take photos. I'm doing an article for National Geographic," Tintin explained. "There's going to be a whole issue dedicated to this expedition, and I'm the lucky sucker that has to do it."

"Oh yeah? Why's that then?"

"Because… It's my job?" Tintin flashed a winning smile. "That's what I do, Captain: I'm a reporter."

"I thought the reporters wrote and photographers took the photos?"

Tintin shrugged. "When I was in Paris I was the photographer for a reporter called Jack Keller. I learned all about photo-journalism from him, and I still do it every so often. It helps: I'm free-lance so I have to sell stories. Stories sell for more with photographs. And with good photographs, they sell for much, much more."

"Huh. Fair enough, I suppose." The Captain yawned and stretched. It was unspoken between them, but after the day's events they both knew that neither would get much sleep tonight. Everyone else had written off the dynamite as the work of Philipous the Prophet, but Tintin didn't think so and neither did the Captain.

It didn't add up if Philipous had put it there: why hadn't he known what it was? Clearly, the person who had placed the dynamite on the deck had done it in order to cause the most damage and perhaps halt the expedition, but Philipous had been under the impression that the dynamite was a firework. Had he known what it really was, it was doubtful that he would have lit it and held it in his hand for any length of time. Religious mania rarely included suicide, unless it included killing as many people as possible. That wouldn't have been possible if the dynamite had exploded in the crow's nest, as Philipous had intended.

No, it was more likely that another person – the person Tintin had seen running from the Aurora – had planted the explosives. But for what reason, they simply didn't know. All they did know was that there was a good chance he, or someone else, might come back to finish the job. There were lookouts on deck, of course, but in case something else did happen, both Tintin and the Captain wanted to be awake for it.

"Fancy a game of cards?" the Captain asked.

"Ok."

"D'you know how to play poker?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure about what hand beats other hands."

"Perfect. I'll deal."

"Let's not play poker," Tintin said with a sigh.

"Texas hold'em?"

"I don't know that one."

"Bridge?"

"I'm not elderly, Captain."

"Cribbage?"

"What's that?"

The Captain rolled his eyes. "Why don't you tell me what card games you know, and we'll play one of them?"

"Em… Snap?" Tintin offered. "Go Fish? Happy Families?"

"Blistering barnacles." The Captain despaired of the younger generations. "Fine, snap it is. You deal the cards, I need another drink. Fancy a beer this time?"

"Yeah, ok. Just one though." Tintin shuffled the cards quickly and divided them into two neat stacks. "Here's your cards. You said you've sailed these waters before, yes?"

"Yeah, of course," the Captain replied as he placed the beers on the table and sat back down. They began the game. "I've been all over."

"Where's the nicest place you've been? Snap!"

"Ah, bugger! Fine. Take the cards. Er, nicest place… Barbados."

"Really?"

"Yeah, the water there is so blue and clear it looks like the boats are floating on air. The people are great too, and the touristy parts are very laid-back. Great place."

"Snap!"

"Snap! – Bugger! What about you?"

"I don't know. Parts of Africa are very beautiful."

"Oh yeah, very beautiful. Crazy country though."

"Tell me about it. America was fun."

"America would be great if it didn't have so many Americans in it."

"Snap!"

"Snap! – blistering barnacles! Where else have you been?"

Tintin shrugged. "All over Europe. I've never been to Australia though."

"I've been there. New Zealand is lovely too. So what is your story?"

"What story?"

"You know, your personal story? You never talk about your family or that."

"You've never asked me about them. Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Go for it."

"Snap!"

"Sna – oh for the love of…"

"What about the icebergs?"

"Eh? What about them?"

"What do you do if you hit one?"

The Captain looked at him. "I don't get what you're saying. Why would I hit an iceberg?"

"Snap," Tintin said, patting the cards lightly.

The Captain looked down. "Oh for crying out loud! How am I terrible at this? This is the first game babies learn!"

"When was the last time you played Snap?"

"I can't flaming remember, it was that long ago! Can we not play poker?"

"Icebergs, Captain."

"I'm not going to hit an iceberg."

"You could: you don't know for sure."

"The nav system and radar will sort that, and there's lookouts on deck at all times. We're not going to hit an iceberg!"

"That's what the Captain of the Titanic said. Snap."

"This game is doing my head in. I'm not going to hit an iceberg: stop cursing the voyage!"

"But what if you do?" Tintin persisted. "Just say. Just suppose!"

"Fine. Alright. If, for some insane reason, we hit an iceberg, we do it properly. There are procedures in place," the Captain snapped.

"What procedures?" Tintin asked, fascinated.

"You hit it head-on."

Tintin blinked. "Whaa-aaat?" he asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

The Captain held his hand up, and moved it forward swiftly, like a shark's fin. "You hit it straight on."

"Straight on?"

"Yeah. Straight on. Head first, as it were. Snap!" He banged his hand down on the considerable pile of cards.

"I don't believe you," Tintin said as they continued the game. "You're joking with me now. You're pulling my leg."

"I ain't touching your leg, kiddo. I'm telling you, you hit an iceberg head on. That's what sank the Titanic: they tried to turn but they were too late, so it ripped open all the hulls. If they'd kept their course and reduced speed, they would have just punctured one hull. The others would have stayed air-tight and would've kept the ship afloat. They probably would have made it to America in good time, too. Couple of days late, but nothing major. But they did the wrong thing, and they tried to turn when they had no time."

"You are definitely making fun of me."

"Snap. No I'm not. You hit an iceberg straight on, and you'll survive it."

"Hmm."

"Fine, don't believe me. What do I care? We're not going to hit one anyway: stop worrying."

"So what about sharks?"

"Thundering typhoons, is it morning yet?"

Author's Note: Short n' sweet, but I couldn't fit it anywhere else. I always imagined, considering the day's events, that they would have stayed up all night, or quite late anyway, to keep an eye on things. And as I got a bit older, I realised one important thing: they were acquaintances at the start of this book, but firm friends by the time of Red Rackham's Treasure*. And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense that during this trip, they would have hung out quite a lot. There were probably evenings spent messing about, or times when Tintin would hang out on the bridge with the Captain, and I sort of want to show a few of those times, and show their friendship growing. Plus, I love writing nonsense conversations for them.

*this is actually true, and it's clear to see when you analyse certain scenes in the books. I'm seeing stuff now for the first time, because I'm going through them with a fine-tooth comb, seeing what needs to be re-written and how it needs to be done. One thing I noticed, and I think it's fairly subtle, is that in The Shooting Star, when the Aurora sails, Tintin is sort of hanging around like a spare part. He has that amusing scene where he gets soaked, he wanders around looking at various things and pointing them out to Snowy (and us), and he generally makes himself scarce until lunch. During this time, one imagines, the Captain is doing his job and taking the ship out of harbour and into the shipping lane, so he's very busy. So it's understandable that Tintin wouldn't be hanging out with him. Right?

I'm not so sure: compare it to Red Rackham's Treasure. How do they get out of the harbour there? Tintin takes them out: the Captain has him in the bridge, and is teaching him how to sail a ship. They're comfortable enough with each other - and close enough friends - that the Captain would say; "Screw it. Come one: I'll show you how it's done." It's a far cry from Tintin wandering around with nothing to do on the Aurora.

Quick note: never turn when trying to hit an iceberg. Honest to god: hit it straight on. Happy Thursday everyone! ;)