Chapter 5: Meeting Mole and Sweet
Milo and Emily wandered through the many corridors of the submarine, until they managed to find their own cabin. It had three beds, a writing desk, and a sink with a little mirror hanging above it.
Milo placed his traveling bag at the foot of his bed, and tossed his coat next to the desk, which landed on the floor.
The dirty blonde tsked to herself in annoyance at her brother's disorganization. So she picked up his coat, and placed it on the chair. She set her traveling bag down by the desk, and hung her coat on a coat rack. After a busy day, the siblings decided to rest up for a bit, before they meet the rest of the crew.
"Attention. Tonight's supper will be baked beans. Musical program to follow," the announcer said, before making a brief pause. "Who wrote this?" She asked, cynically.
Milo yawned and stretched his arms out, before getting into the lower bunk bed to take a short nap.
As the young man rested, a small telescopic eye appeared from the bunk above him, watching Milo suspiciously.
It sensed that something was off.
Then, with clumps of dirt falling off, a small man peered at Milo curiously. A headlamp appeared and the man turned it on, brightening up the lower bunk. Milo opened his eyes and jumped up, startled, and hit his head on the top bunk.
"Ow!" he exclaimed.
While this was happening, Emily was facing away and organizing her belongings. With her back turned, she couldn't hear any commotion that was going on.
"You have disturbed the dirt," the man said with a high-pitched French accent.
"Uh, pardon me?" Milo asked.
"You have disturbed the dirt!" The small man yelled.
He rolled out of his bed, and landed in front of Milo, making the young man jump out of his bed.
The small man was obese with an unshaven face, black mustache, and buck teeth. He wore a dark gray waterproof trench coat with brown fur, brown fingerless gloves, gray trousers, and brown boots. On his head was a brown leather pilot helmet, metal goggles, and a headlight.
Milo and Emily's unseen roommate was none other than Gaetan Molière, or Mole for short.
Emily noticed an odor of fresh dirt reaching her nostrils, giving her a sniff. She wrinkled her nose in disgust when she noticed a foul scent of sweat and body odor. Ugh, what is that smell? She wondered. The dirty blonde turned around and jumped back in shock to find another occupant in her and her brother's cabin. Oh, so, that explains it.
"Dirt from around the globe, spanning the centuries!" Mole continued, pulling back the blanket on Milo's bed to reveal piles of dirt, labeled by each country flag, spreading across the mattress.
Emily's eyes widened in shock. Good grief! Where did he get all that dirt?
"What have you done?" Mole gasped. He activated a dust pan and brush from his goggles to sweep up a clump of dirt. "England must never merge with France!"
"What's it doin' in my bed?" Milo asked.
"You ask too many questions," Mole glared, observing the young man. "Who are you? Who sent you? Speak up!"
"Me? I'm, uh…" the young man began, but Mole grew impatient.
"Bah! I will know soon enough!"
Mole grabbed Milo's wrist and pulled out a pair of tweezers.
"Hey, hey, hey! Let go!" the young man tried to break free.
Emily gasped and tapped sharply on Mole's shoulder. The short man turned back to the woman and used his meaty grimy hand and shoved her by her chest. Emily stumbled back and landed on her rear end. The French geologist went back to grabbing Milo's hand as the young man kept attempting to break free.
"Do not be such a crybaby," Mole said. Milo attempted to pull his arm away, but Mole pulled it back, "Hold still." Within seconds, he pinched a piece of dirt that was underneath Milo's fingernail.
Emily grimaced in disgust as she got up. Eww, gross!
"Ah-ha! There you are," Mole smiled. "Now, tell me your story, my little friend."
The short man turned on his light and adjusted the lens on his goggles if it were a microscope to study the piece of dirt. Within the view were colors of green, black, and pink and represented each part.
"Parchment fiber from the Nile circa 500 B.C. Lead pencil, number 2. Paint flecks of a type used in government buildings. You have a cat, shorthaired Persian, two years old, third in a litter of seven," Mole said.
He shut off his light and finished his conclusion. "There are all the microscopic fingerprints of the mapmaker." Mole eyed at Milo for a moment.
The young man was surprised at how the French geologist could read information from a piece a dirt.
Then, Mole tasted the dirt and gasped. "And linguist," he sneered.
Emily's eyes widened in nervousness at the dirty man. From reading his lips, she began to grow more uncomfortable around him.
"Hey, how did you…"
"This is an outrage!" Mole shouted and threw Milo's bag in his arms and the coat covered his head. "You must leave at once! Out, out, out, out, out!"
After being pushed a few times by Mole, Milo ran into a something, or rather, someone in the doorway.
In front of Milo was a tall and muscular African-American man. He only wore pants held by suspenders and a white towel was draped around his neck.
"Uh-oh! Sat in the dirt, didn't you?" the man asked in his deep voice.
He turned his attention to Mole and crossed his arms.
"Moliere, now what have I told you about playing nice with the other kids?" the man said, sternly. Before Mole could get close to the Thatch siblings, the African-American man pulled out a square bar of pure white soap and held it out towards the French man. "Get back. I've got soap, and I'm not afraid to use it."
Mole flinched back from the soap and hissed like a cat. The man pulled off his towel and used it to hit Mole if it were a whip.
"Back, foul creature! Back to the pit from which you came!" the man yelled.
Mole crawled back to his bunk bed and crawled underneath the blanket. His headlight turned on and his eyes peered from under his blanket.
Emily sighed and brushed off the sweat from her bangs. She turned back to the African-American and signed in relief, Thanks for helping us. Could've been worse if you hadn't shown up.
"Glad to help miss," the man said, as he signed back and shook her and Milo by the hands. "The name's Sweet. Joshua Sweet. Medical officer."
"Yeah, Milo Thatch, and my sister Emily."
"Milo and Emily Thatch," Dr. Sweet said, pulling on his white coat and putting on his doctor hat. He dug into his medical bag and pulled out a surgical saw, grinning. "You're my 3:00. Well, no time like the present."
The sight of the medical saw made Milo and Emily stand up straight in nervousness. The dirty blonde's eyebrows went up in alarm.
Good lord, Emily signed.
"Oh, boy," Milo mumbled.
"Nice, isn't it?" Sweet asked, gesturing to his saw. "The catalog says that this little beauty, can saw through a femur in 28 seconds. I'm bettin' I can cut that time in half." He puts the saw away and pulled out a tongue depressor from his pocket. "Now, open your mouth and say 'Ah'."
"Oh no, really. I have a…" Milo protested, before Sweet placed the depressor on Milo's tongue "Ah!"
"So, where you two from?" Sweet asked, looking into Milo's mouth.
The young man answered, babbling. Luckily for Sweet, he could understand Milo's answers. Emily signed to Sweet, Fishkill, New York. But we live in Washington D.C.
"Really?" Sweet smiled, tossing away the tongue depressor and shoved a thermometer in Milo's mouth. He pulled out a stethoscope to listen to Milo's heartbeat. "I have family up that way. Beautiful country up there. Do you two do any fishing?"
Milo answered mumbling with the thermometer, still in his mouth.
Sometimes, but not anymore. What about you? Emily asked.
"Me? I hate fishing," Sweet frowned. He pulled out another tongue depressor and checked his pocket watch. "I hate fish. Hate the taste, hate the smell, and hate all them little bones."
Then, Sweet took out two large beakers and held them in front of the Thatch siblings. "Here, I'm gonna need you two to fill these up."
Milo spat out the thermometer and shouted in shock, "With what?"
Emily's eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up her forehead. I really hope this doesn't revolved around something from us!
"Will Milo and Emily Thatch report to the bridge?" the female voice announced.
Everyone looked up to hear the sound, but Emily didn't understand that they were calling for her and her brother.
"Thank you," Milo whispered in relief and placed a hand on his heart. He turned back to his sister to sign the message to her.
When Milo headed for the door, he realized that he was about to act impolite, and turned back to Sweet. "I mean, uh, uh, nice meeting you."
We're glad to have met you. Hopefully we'll get along well, the dirty blonde signed, following her brother.
"Uh-huh. Nice meeting you, too," Sweet called after them.
Sweet smiled as he was already liking the Thatch siblings. Mole left his bunk bed and had a blank expression on his face.