Luigi paused, his hands firmly clasped on the rudder and rigidly holding course like an autopilot made flesh. His gaze passed Beanelda into the all-encompassing emptiness outside the ship.

'Luigi? Please tell me we overheard that.' Her words vanished on the way to his ears. Was no match for the sea, the wood warping under the forces of nature, and Goombekker's kingly customer voice. But even if they had reached Luigi, his head was too busy processing the meaning of those five words in the form of a subordinate clause, and what implications they would bring. 'Luigi, I don't like it when you're so quiet! That usually means we have a huge problem!' She could say that out loud. Well, louder. Much louder.

'Hold on a minute, please,' Luigi said curtly, turned round and staggered along the steadily sloping floor towards the cabin. Unaware that behind him, a happily shrieking female photographer was throwing herself onto the helm with childlike fervour.

The storm was not kind to the furniture. The table lay half-broken in a corner, apparently smashed by the radio like a cannonball, the back of which now exposed its innards in some places. Every time it was tilted, the wooden remains slid, rolled and flew around, along with casing fragments. The fact that the technology was still working, let alone that the heavy car battery hadn't torn holes somewhere, was another miracle. If it were up to Luigi, far too many in a single night, as he would have used up all his reserves of luck for the rest of his life. Perhaps it was just the ruler of the Underwhere watching the events like a made-for-TV film and artificially prolonging their suffering for fun.

Goombekker's vocal cords were playing a cracking, obscenely vulgar concert, with his partner and the crew member of the other ship as the only audience. Only rarely tried a foreign voice to assert itself against him, but this only seemed to aggravate Goombekker's inner sailor even more. When Luigi opened the door, Pira T., microphone in hand, immediately fixated on him with blushed cheeks and implored him, 'Luigi, back in the right place at the right time! Please, bring him to his senses, but try not to kill him this time!' He only looked at her momentarily, then pushed past her and shoved Goombekker aside.

'H-Hey!' the latter protested at a volume that greatly increased Luigi's desire to slam him into the ground again if necessary. But he ignored Pira T.'s life-threatening scowl, took the microphone from her and spoke conspicuously calmly, 'I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse him. Our nerves are on edge, do you understand?'

'Don't think I'll forget your attempted murder!' Goombekker shouted in between, but Luigi simply covered his ear on the side of the ongoing noise disturbance and knelt to the device.

'Understood,' his radio contact replied, growling after what sounded suspiciously like a sigh. 'Then let's start again: please state the name and function on the ship of the Soup hen-' He cackled, causing Luigi to bang his forehead on the floor. 'Sorry, name and function please.'

'Luigi Mario,' he dutifully announced, then considered whether "dying passenger" would be a suitable description, but before he could continue, he was loudly interrupted by the crew member, 'Luigi? The Luigi?!'

'That's me. Why are you asking?'

'Oh boy, oh boy, it really is you! It's me, Bloat!' Luigi just looked at the wall and was briefly startled when half of the table slid against his back. But despite his suspicion that Bloat was an unimportant supporting character from one of his past adventures, he felt a cosy warmth rise in his heart. Someone had not forgotten him after all these years! Is this what the limelight felt like? Just being Mario, not standing in his shadow for once?

Apart from this addictive attention, the name Bloat left no impression. Luigi rummaged and rummaged, returning to a time when a little Yoshi still addressed him as mama - but no chance. The 'One-Scene NPC' drawer was simply too dusty. So Luigi replied in the negative, 'I'm inconsolable, really. But I'm afraid your name doesn't ring a bell.'

'Really not? You and red guy blew me out of the wall with dynamite! Do you remember? The S. S. Chuckola in Teehee Valley, and you wanted a piece of the Beanstar? And then we sunk in the Oho Ocean?' With each new name, dust swirled up in his mind. More and more, formed a dense cloud in which Luigi completely lost his bearings, until the neighbouring Beanbean Kingdom seemed like nothing more than a vague dream that immediately melted away when he woke up. According to Bloat, it might as well have been a surreal trip after a bit of glue. But the dust gradually began to settle. Individual key scenes in a valley, still needing cleaning, revealed to him a whole called Teehee Valley, which slowly came together and resurfaced as a slide show in his mind. And along with that, Mario's rantings about a barrel game held by a skeletal ape whose name had also been lost to the annals of history. Judging by the sudden headache, it was something Luigi sought to suppress.

'Yes, it's starting to come together, but-'

'For heaven's sake, shut up you two!' roared Goombekker with a bright red, subtly steaming head. 'We're flippin' dying here! Why won't you help us?'

'I told you, we can't!' What Luigi had previously hoped to ignore, like Beanelda, drilled into his ears, settled in his auditory canals like a tumour, flooded his nerve tracts and hit his head as a broadside. Unmistakably from the most trustworthy source. It was not a figment of his imagination and could only be overheard with generous amounts of delusional optimism.

'And why not?' asked all three in the cabin simultaneously, although Luigi did this more out of a last vestige of that same delusional optimism than pure curiosity.

'Because self-protection comes first. We have to save our own hides, we're honestly sorry.'

'Nonsense! You come here right now, and-' Luigi's pressing hand on the old man's mouth ended Goombekker's repeated outburst of anger prematurely. He wriggled and tried to break free, but Luigi only squeezed harder, and once Pira T. wrapped her arms around her husband, his resistance disappeared.

'But what should we do then?' asked Luigi, still calm to his astonishment. However, this threatened to slip away from him with every second that Bloat sighed. As soon as the pause cane, Luigi held his breath, almost expecting a jump scare. Except he had to keep his eyes and ears open.

'Hold on somewhere, let some poor guy man the wheel to keep the bow pointed towards the waves, and ... well.'

'Yeah, yeah?' Luigi probed, already on the verge of crawling into a corner and calling out for anything and everything that could promise comfort or a helping hand.

'Hope for the best. Praying should help too. That's all there is to it, really.' Immediately, the couple began to protest loudly and insist on other solutions, which put the discussion back to square one, much like poorly programmed RPG dialogue trees. Luigi, however, shouted. For mum, Mario, Jeremiah, any higher power that would listen to him, and there were exactly zero. He ran from corner to corner, fleeing the inevitable. But he was locked in a wooden cage, while something on the outside was slowly, inexorably, trying to devour his prison. He had always told his brother, it was a bad idea to leave Brooklyn! After all, the biggest danger there would have been getting stabbed at night in a dodgy neighbourhood in the Bronx!

But he did none of that. Instead, he sat in front of the device with unflinching tranquillity. While it raged inside and he wished for a quick, painless end, he went over what they could do, grumbling aloud. Should they all tie themselves to the masts? Did they even have the ropes for that? Would it be enough to crawl into the cabin? When the table skidded against him again, he got up and went through the door, leaving the endless loop from hell behind him.

First, he trudged across the slippery floor to the heavily panting Beanelda, who watched him over her shoulder.

'And, Luigi? What did they say?' Like him, she sounded like she didn't want to know exactly. That was if she didn't already know the answer herself.

'Goombekker was right, I'm sorry.' She lowered her head and mumbled something unintelligible that sounded suspiciously like an expletive under the circumstances. 'We're on our own. Help won't come.'

Beanelda raised her head and looked forward. At this, Luigi pleaded silently that she would stay with him and not be the next one to fight a futile argument with Bloat. If he was completely honest, he had to admit, he was way out of his depth without instructions or a destination.

'Did they at least tell us what to do?' Another one of those rare moments where the morning drew a little closer. However, what he had to tell her now would be like waking up painfully from a sweet dream.

'As dumb as it may sound: hold on somewhere and leave someone at the helm to keep the bow to the waves. And then just hope and pray.'

'So somehow survive until the storm ends,' she concluded soberly. 'I'll be frank, Luigi. With the amount of water coming in, the Soup hen won't last much longer.' Glad to see that Beanelda made no move to abandon him, Luigi replied, 'I'm afraid so too.' Once again, as if the weather had perfidiously waited for the perfect timing, it lit up their surroundings – every litre that flowed through the open hatch, of which there must have been dozens every second, was a perverted water clock that showed their time slipping away. Their destination seemed far, if not unattainable under these conditions. In the end, it didn't change that they just had to try, and Luigi added in an attempt to motivate, 'But maybe we'll make it to the other ship by then. So put the pedal to the metal!'

'Aye!' She immediately tried to push the regulator, already at full power, even further forward. Perhaps there was a secret 'BLJ' setting, a charge of nitrous oxide, or a few mushrooms for that essential speed boost. Considering the modifications made to the ship, nothing would have surprised either of them.

But the lever held still and, as intended by the builders, did not exceed any limits. Instead, a red light came on. 'Uh oh.'

Anything but that! Beanelda only had to look at Luigi for him to stand next to her, during which he had one question in mind: What on earth was this now?

The answer to this unpleasant question was immediately provided by a flashing red light – one in the shape of a petrol pump, which, on closer inspection, emitted an alarming beep. As if these were the ship's last breaths, the light on the display went out and became one with the darkness.

But before Luigi could realise what the world would do next, Beanelda began to moan and groan with exhausting effort. 'Luigi, the rudder isn't moving an inch! We're drifting!' As if to emphasise this, Booccaneer's voice came down from the crow's nest above in a harsh commanding tone, 'Stay on course, stay on course, we're coming off! Hold the damn rudder!' At the same time, the lamps of the MS Vicia faba began to veer off to the right in the distance. This time Luigi let out a shrill scream, throwing himself onto the stick with her. But even with combined strength, the tiller could not be persuaded to change direction. The wood bent, but in the end, it forced its way through and pushed inexorably towards the port side. 'What the heck are you doing down there! It can't be that hard!'

'We're out of petrol!' came the snippy reply from both of them. At first, Booccaneer didn't make a sound, as if he needed time to process, just like Luigi, only to leave his post and join them. But even then he stayed silent, just watching as they both wrestled with a long piece of wood while the fuel gauge's needle rested far behind the E. This terrible clock, which signalled the end of their stay on earth, seemed to torment them by withholding the exact time. A roar rolled over the ship, more powerful than thunder and lightning and the force of the water, deafening and paralysing the two survivors, imbued with sheer unparalleled rage and defiance. This was no mere expression of fears, disappointment over missed events in life, or even pent-up anger – it was a declaration of war. On everything and everyone who wanted to see their bodies crushed by the pressure of the water. Perhaps it was also a single, drawn-out cussword. At some point, enough was simply enough!

Booccaneer immediately supported them with all his might. But even with six hands, if his stubby arms could pass for hands, the coloured lights kept moving and the rudder was now at the limit. Beanelda was the first to sink to her knees, panting, followed by Luigi, and Booccaneer pounded the floor in a screaming fury.

'You can't be serious,' Luigi said, panting. Stretched out on his back, he held on to the rudder with one loose hand and shielded his face from the tiny water bombs with the other. How much would leak out of all his clothes if he wrung them out now in the dry?

'Yeah, that doesn't make any sense at all,' agreed Beanelda, who struggled to get up and tried to turn the tiller again, but gave up after one pull and sat down. 'It worked with me alone until just now.' Booccaneer, whose yelling had dwindled to an exhausted mumble, still found the energy to explain, 'Because the power steering still worked. Without it, you'd need a whole crew, and three people wouldn't be enough.'

'That's bad, but what exactly does that mean for us?' asked Beanelda.

'Well, what does it mean?' Booccaneer had reverted to his sarcastic ways, 'The stupid Soup hen now does what it wants and we are at the mercy of the whims of this pile of driftwood. Which, if I may say so, will sink before we see the sun.'

A few moments passed in which no one raised their voice and everyone looked ahead at nothing in particular. It was one of those moments when no one dared to disturb this flimsy, yet nerve-wracking calm by straining their vocal chords. Since that means either throwing ideas around in vain hope that would ultimately lead to nothing but lower morale; or they would make it short and very, very painful and state the obvious straight away.

Booccaneer opted for the latter.

'In other words, we're screwed.'

Contrary to all imagination and logic, Beanelda also opened her mouth. But not to speak. Instead, her face formed a grin. It became wider and wider, and before Luigi and Booccaneer understood what was happening, she laughed loudly and heartily. Both men looked at each other, perplexed, but after a bit, Luigi smiled too and joined in the laughter.

'Have you two been sneaking a bite of the dream beans, or why do you find our plight so funny?' asked Booccaneer, the only one disturbed by the strange behaviour. When they both continued laughing, he sighed in exasperation and said, 'Okay, I'm out. You two stay here, I'm going where insanity hasn't taken over yet,' turned to the cabin and slipped through the door.

As soon as he was gone, the other two ran out of breath, and after a brief pause, Luigi asked with a grin, 'But really, why are you laughing?'

'Oh, Luigi,' she began to tell but got interrupted by an ear-piercing groan above her. Noises that banished Luigi's smile from his face, sounding as if a multitude of large blades were cutting and slicing through textiles in unbridled fury. Nevertheless, he tried valiantly to keep the corners of his mouth up and concentrated on Beanelda's words. 'Do you remember how I told you about my blog "Seafaring through the ages" at the harbour?' This was accompanied by further tension that he couldn't identify. He didn't know why, but there was something about those words that he deeply disliked. Still, he played along and asked with feigned curiosity, 'Yes, I remember that.' His body shook and trembled, his eyes wide open as they suddenly witnessed another piece of bad news: in the light of the thunderstorm, he noticed the sails, riddled with tears, and with every second they seemed to be getting bigger and bigger and longer. At first, only stuttered syllables came out of his mouth, and when the tears merged into holes, he was completely lost for words.

'Thank you, at least someone who cares about my work,' Beanelda nodded and wiped her face. 'And do you know what I hoped for when we boarded?' Luigi's gaze was glued to the holes, which had now reached dimensions that made the sails sag wearily. Gradually, he began to understand what she was alluding to with her talk and wondered whether he should stop her somehow. After all, she was well on the way to challenging an opponent against whom they didn't stand a chance. 'That the Soup hen is secretly the Wet Bandit.' Luigi looked at her in disbelief, momentarily distracted from the drama unfolding above them.

'The Wet Bandit? But it's...' He stopped himself instantly as he realised they needed everything now but nay-sayers.

'I know. Sunk by Cortez a long time ago, captain and all.' Beanelda sounded dejected, so Luigi immediately dug into the part of his memory called 'history lessons' and said, 'But according to eyewitness reports, one day it just reappeared again, as if nothing had ever happened.'

'That's right, it's even said to have sunk several times. But we both know that's impossible.'

'What do you base that on?'

'Well, the previous name has obviously been milled away, the figurehead's chicken head looks like it's been glued on, and the Wet Bandit had a reputation for being able to sail with even the worst damage and maintenance. And let's be honest.' She grinned, laughed briefly and continued, 'The Soup hen is just a pile of junk and shouldn't be swimming any more by any stretch of the imagination. And because it hasn't fallen apart yet despite the chaos in the hold and all the waves, I thought...' Now, as she explained it, it seemed that all incidents that didn't end that badly were neither simple isolated occurrences, nor could they be explained by particularly robust wood. Perhaps the ship was not in as bad a condition as previously assumed. Perhaps the Soup hen really was the Wet Bandit under a false identity. If the rumours were true, the ship could take as much punishment as sailors could take cheap joke's grog in taverns. Perhaps it would survive the storm in tolerable condition – survive the night after all. Yes, he had thought that several times in the course of their odyssey, until something intervened. And yet, something always happened that made seeing Mario again a possibility. Just like now.

'But as I said, the Wet Bandit has been rotting at the bottom of the sea for ages.' Luigi immediately fired back, endeavouring to believe hard enough in the seemingly impossible for some higher force to make it real, 'Don't say that, Beanelda. Sometimes signs and wonders do happen!'

'I hope so, Luigi. I hope so.' He grinned broadly at her and gave her two thumbs up, whereupon her tone quickly turned to laughter and the former thought he had averted another crisis. However, what just reached their ears, something completely new and previously unknown, made them both prick up their ears and abruptly interrupted the good mood. There were thunderous blows, similar to the discharges of the heavens. But the rhythm, the intervals, they didn't fit. They were short. Too short. There couldn't be that many flashes within a few seconds. 'Luigi, look there, quickly!' He immediately followed Beanelda's gaze and spotted new lights in the distance. They were bright and short-lived, lasting less than a blink of an eye, always close together and accompanied by the same thunder. When they dispelled the darkness for these moments, Luigi was sure he recognised green areas and small holes in them.

And next to those, more red and green lights, now much closer to the ground. His mind refused to accept what it wanted to reveal to him right then and there, adding another huge crisis that made him wonder why they were still alive. But the truth had to come out.

'Cannon fire,' Luigi concluded and then looked at his partner, who did the same. 'Why is there suddenly a second ship, why is it being shot at, and what the heck is going on out there?'

'I don't know either, I'm just as baffled as...' A single bright light flashed. It came directly from the newcomer, however, and unlike the previous fireworks, it took a while for it to light up again, this time in the same spot.

A large fireball revealed a large green expanse; with it, the winds carried something entirely new to the Soup hen.

Screaming.

'Wait here,' Luigi instructed his partner firmly as they scrambled to their feet, 'I need answers from the radio.'

'Again? Why don't you stay at the helm for a change?' But by then he had already marched to the cabin, slipped briefly on the uneven floor and stood in front of the door again. Before he reached the door handle, it swung open and Booccaneer waited at the threshold. With a solemn expression, he waved Luigi in – whatever was inside only seemed to bring more bad news.

The radio was free, contrary to his expectations. A slightly reddened Goombekker was sitting in a corner, quivering and stewing in his juices, and seemed to be well on his way to turning the cabin into a seedy sauna with the fumes of his anger. Only Pira T., who kept talking to him in a calm tone – Luigi didn't understand what exactly – appeared to be the only one who knew how to avert a heart attack. Booccaneer, on the other hand, ignored her and stood guard next to the station, where the microphone was waiting for someone who could keep a cool head despite the circumstances. There, where a whole tangle of voices and screams originated, that seemed to speak a single language in unison, the words of which required no translation for laymen. They even exerted a certain psychic force, erecting a wall in front of them that did not completely stop Luigi, but slowed him down. The closer he got, the more willpower he had to exert to move forward – he regretted his desire for answers. Sometimes he preferred an illusion, the blissful ignorance, a semblance of determination in the belief that he could still turn the tide despite all odds stacked against him. But there he was, in front of the microphone, the cold plastic firmly in his grasp, and dozens, if not hundreds of people were yelling at him.

'Hello, Bloat?' he spoke hesitantly as he tried to keep his distance from the loudspeakers, as the voices filled the room now. 'It's me, Luigi. What's going on out there?' There was no response. At least not the kind he had hoped for. Instead, the loudspeakers crackled as if they attempted to broadcast something unspeakable that the technology couldn't handle. Loud and powerful, explosions that came so suddenly that Pira T. and Luigi shrieked, but Booccaneer and Goombekker merely flinched. Thundering booms, akin to cannon fire.

'Bloat, Bloat! Come in, please!' Although the technical difficulties disappeared, they were replaced by the less reassuring shouting. Was that perhaps the answer he no longer wanted, but still needed? Luigi bit the cannonball and turned his head towards Booccaneer, right into his black eyes. But he didn't have any helpful words ready either, turning from left to right and back again with his mouth closed.

'Sorry, Luigi. That was our last option, really.'

Then Luigi looked almost automatically at the couple, but without knowing why. Subliminally, he was probably hoping that they would at least give him and his hopes something to hold on to. Pira T., on the other hand, returned his look with a shrug, and Goombekker – the first time Luigi had seen it and consequently startled him – only sat there and stared into nothingness. When even the personified noise pollution noticed that his otherwise tried and tested method wasn't working?

Luigi turned back to the microphone and listened to the voices. He had to be able to hear something that would help them! Like a crackling sound. Not a cracking sound. Crackling.

A sudden rumble, this time coming from behind, distracted everyone present from their situation, at least for a few moments.

'Guys, the Vicia faba is on fire and the second ship is heading straight for us! What should we do?'

'Why aren't you at your post, you …' Booccaneer started without really listening, once again his usual self, but stopped right there. 'Excuse me?'

'I said that the Vicia faba is on fire and the second ship is heading straight for us! And what we should do!' Booccaneer instantly flew past her through the wall without as much as a single word, leaving the remaining four passengers dumbfounded. 'That wasn't an answer to my question, but...'

A shrill screech, coming with a dazzling light that turned the area behind Beanelda into day, ended all talk on the spot. As quickly as he had disappeared, Booccaneer emerged from behind the wall and then rolled through the open door into the cabin, his arms pressed to his eyes, whimpering like a child who had hit his knees. But the light stayed on.

They had been discovered. Now they found themselves in the sights of an unknown threat, and it was only a matter of time before it struck.

'I have a very bad feeling about this,' Beanelda was the first to say what everyone, presumably except Booccaneer, was thinking and added, 'I can't explain it, but we shouldn't let them catch us.' That was also the first time Luigi saw Goombekker smile when he thought he had to add his two cents, 'Don't fret! I'll destroy that cannon fodder single-handedly!'

'I'd still prefer we escape. Without any bloodshed and such.'

'But we've run out of petrol,' Luigi clarified. 'The sails have also seen better days.'

'Pah, let them all come! Back in the war, I was known as a dive-bombing Goomba! Oh man, what damage did I...' Luigi's ears immediately went for a block against the incoming barrage of 'probably racist grandpa with rose-tinted glasses' glorifications, and judging from the ladies' tired faces, they were probably doing the same. Successfully pushing the background noise away, the senior woman took the floor, her voice burdened by concern, 'Or maybe this is all a terrible misunderstanding and they only mean well for us.' Beanelda shook her head resolutely.

'The way our rescuers are burning, I don't think so.'

'But that doesn't make any sense! Why would they want to harm us?'

'I don't know, but do you really wanna find out?' Pira T. looked sheepishly, faced downwards and then said uncertainly, 'Well, if you put it that way...'

'You see, me neither.' Then Beanelda turned to Luigi. 'I hope you have an idea. Because I don't, and if you don't have one, I'll cry terribly!' Honestly, that was indeed the case. If it were up to him, they could skip the brainstorming part and go straight to hiding. Possibly in combination with a fetal position. At least Beanelda seemed to be following a similar strategy once there wasn't any hope left.

But now that all eyes were on Luigi – Pira T., Goombekker, Beanelda, and in all likelihood also Booccaneer as soon as he stopped crying and rolling around – he felt his body hit with an unusual heaviness. It didn't push him to the ground or make his knees go weak. Still, it was familiar in some way. In fact, it was the same feeling back at the tiller – responsibility. Now he was no longer just the helmsman. Four people waited for his instructions, if not orders. Goombekker probably wouldn't like that, but that didn't matter now.

Without asking first, they had imposed the role of captain on him. So his word was law. And he gave them one that they would obey. Whether they wanted or not.

'We'll stall them.'

'What?' Beanelda thought she hadn't understood correctly and the couple looked at each other, equally puzzled.

'We can't get away from them, right? But they'll have to get us first.'

'That's exactly the problem, Luigi! They're much faster than us!'

'It's just a matter of holding out long enough until the storm subsides and we can get help. No more, no less.'

'Fine, and how are you going to manage that without petrol? We don't even have any reefs or anything to hide behind! The only way we could possibly slow them down a bit would be …' Her breathing stopped and her face gradually turned the same colour once she found out what unpleasant things awaited them in the barrels.

'No. No!' She shook her head as Luigi's lips formed a mischievous smile. 'Please don't tell me you want to do this!'

'Could you explain that for the extras in the back row too?' Goombekker intervened civilly by his standards, which made his wife chuckle. Amid Beanelda's protests, Luigi looked at them both, his expression untouched.

'We're sailing into the worst the storm can throw at us.'

The couple furrowed their brows, and Beanelda shot back on the spot, 'Impossible, this is madness! The Soup hen won't make it!'

'If it really is the Wet Bandit, then it will.'

'Wet Bandit?' Pira T. couldn't believe her ears, then shook her head and said with a smile, 'Kids, that's just a blown-up fairy tale.'

'The guy is a murderous beanstalk,' said Goombekker so calmly that Luigi briefly wondered if he had entered an alternative reality, 'But it sounds so stupid that it could work.'

'That's suicide, guys!'

'I don't see any alternative to barricading myself and laying an ambush for the enemy. What do you think, dear?'

'Oh, darling, I don't know either. But if you're in favour of it, so am I.'

Booccaneer was still preoccupied with his aches and pains, but mustered the strength to hold up one arm.

'For heaven's sake, are you...'

'Perfect, then get to work, and hurry!' Luigi was already heading for the door when Goombekker stopped him and asked at such a familiar volume that Luigi's ears automatically muted the noise pre-emptively, 'But what about us? Are we just supposed to squat here or what?'

'You man the radio and report immediately if anything happens, understand?'

'Sir, yes sir!' Goombekker replied dutifully and Pira T. nodded determinedly.

'Beanelda, you come with me, and Booccaneer, you place yourself into the crow's nest asap.' She immediately made way, but not without grabbing his arm, turning Luigi towards her and staring deep into his eyes.

'I absolutely hope for your sake and ours that you know what you're doing.'

He wanted to nod, maybe even add something that could have come from a motivational guide. But she would have seen through that straight away. Didn't every crew member appreciate an honest captain anyway?

'No, I don't.' That was the end of the matter for him and he left the cabin without waiting for Beanelda's reaction. She looked after him, shaking her head, muttered 'At least he's honest' and finally followed.

As soon as he found himself in darkness, as waves presumably obscured the searchlight, he immediately followed the events that had previously taken place over the radio: Where the cannons had previously unleashed destruction, several fires were now blazing, revealing most of the Vicia faba's broadside.

What was battling the tides like the Soup hen was an elongated monstrosity. An oasis of Woo green in a wet desert of blackness, that didn't resemble a lifeboat at all. Among other things, the many symmetrical holes on the sides, the massive mast, even wider and most likely taller than the Soup hen's own, and the illuminated windows at the stern spoke against such a notion. Indeed a ship of the Beanbean Navy, but of a kind he had never seen before. Why such a leviathan was out in the waters at this time of night offered one question, which was abruptly superseded by another, and wanted to know how it could be defeated that quickly by the, apparently, smaller ship. This was followed by number three: what exactly was coming towards them?

The beam of light searched frantically, greedily, for a path between the waves, grazing the ship's sails, but never held onto them for long. Luigi never thought he would one day say that a storm was their best chance.

With renewed vigour, Luigi and Beanelda took the helm. Although the former approached expecting to be exposed to the ship's whims again, he didn't let on. After all, the remnants of morale had to be maintained, somehow. That worry began to subside again, however, when the unthinkable happened: Their four hands moved the tiller with ease. Almost as if someone had secretly oiled the entire mechanism in the past few minutes, overhauled it, and given it the blessing of a machine god. At first, they stared at each other in astonishment, then at the regulator – still showing its unmotivated side.

'Probably just because nothing is banging against the rudder at the moment,' Beanelda came up with an explanation and Luigi nodded in acceptance. He didn't know any better anyway, like so many other things.

The first waves already crashed against the bow, exploding into a watery wall that smashed against the front of the ship, filling the interior even more. To their left and right, the beams of their pursuers danced around. Luigi was only too happy to imagine whoever was operating the spotlight being flung back and forth, not even thinking about simply giving up and letting the lightning do its work. A thought he would have done better to suppress, because that's exactly what happened: the beam disappeared. The game is on, as they said.

The start of the hunt was soon announced – something seemed to tug lightly at Luigi's back at first, becoming more and more intense so that he and Beanelda had to hold on to the rudder until a flash of lightning confirmed what was about to happen: they were heading blindly for a hill, which the carrack scrambled up like a morbidly obese chicken. A hill that was a little too big for Luigi's liking, and their feet immediately began to slip off. But just before both would hang from it like he from a fleeing ghost, they were surrounded by a strange weightlessness. To be more precise, all his insides seemed to lift off, and Luigi screamed as he lost the ground beneath him – and floated. 'By the way, did I mention that old ships aren't made for stunts like this?' Beanelda shouted at the worst possible time, playing the role of an enthusiastic nerd who had memorised an online encyclopaedia. Luigi could only look at her in bewilderment before returning to his previous activity and begging not to be smashed to smithereens on impact.

A deafening thud, a quick date of the nose with the damp wood, and probably thousands of buckets of water later, and the spook was over. But not the pain. Just like at the dentist.

While he was still adjusting his nose – for how many times again? – he noticed an acoustic foreign body that didn't fit in with everything else. It was laughter. Directly from his side. 'Oh boy oh boy, that reminds me of the penultimate scene from "The Wet Bandit and the End of the Ocean"blog, in which the Wet Bandit flees from the Black Skull in a storm!' Luigi couldn't believe his ears, but after a millisecond's thought, he wasn't surprised. He could have inferred from the outset that she was the only one who could find fun in even the most life-threatening situations. That's why he asked calmly like he was at home during a coffee morning, 'I don't know, never watched it. How did it end for the Bandit?'

'Badly, of course, did you think otherwise? The pirate king always gets you at some point, no matter where, or when.'

'Awesome. Do you also know a scene where the Bandit escapes?' She looked at him as if it was a question of whether every copy of a certain game was personalised.

'Escape? You mean, in the sense of "evading danger"?' Luigi nodded for the sake of decency and could already tell that the answer was obvious. 'Nope. But if instead you mean breaking the restraining chains of life so that the soul becomes free of all vices, then …'

'Okay, forget it!'

However, as soon as their legs felt suspiciously heavy, both automatically returned behind the helm. Beanelda was once again acting like a child in an amusement park, having the time of her life, while Luigi stared at the water mountain lit up by lightning strikes at twelve o'clock. The Soup hen had survived the jump just fine. Or to be more realistic, it didn't fall apart immediately at least. But what was looming over them raised new concerns. Both were pulled back again, lost their grip, and hung on the stick for real. One of the rare moments when Luigi preferred to be dragged through a room by ghosts.

Another flash.

Where Luigi thought the sky was, was now a pitch blackness. And Beanelda laughed even louder, making him genuinely wonder if she was actually enjoying herself in some twisted way, or if this was how she coped with stress. Still, he shouted at her, 'Okay seriously, what the heck is wrong with you?'

'What's wrong with me?' She only laughed harder. So much so that she coughed, only to start all over again after catching her breath. 'I've never felt more alive! Only when your heart is in your mouth do you realise how great life can be!'

'So does mine, but this feels more like a coronary!'

The Soup hen stretched further and further into the air, anguished creaking from all around them, splinters raining down on their faces, conjuring up fears that they would topple backwards rather than sideways. But at the zenith, where the ship seemed to have reached the limits of physics, the ascent ended. And from one moment to the next, everything went black and icy cold coated his entire body. Luigi swallowed and breathed water, sounds reaching his ears heavily muffled. The rudder tore free from his hands, his fingers grabbing the nothingness in the ocean. Again this weightlessness, in which he wriggled wildly, only to feel something again. And he did, in the form of pain, as he smashed back-first into something solid and stuck to it like down in the hold. All he could make out was a blurred outline that became more indistinct with each passing second, like looking through frosted glasses. When he opened his mouth to scream, only salty water entered. His lungs demanded oxygen, now. Something inside him cramped and he wanted to kick, to swim in any direction, but he was pinned down. Why did life hate him so much?

From one moment to the next, the noises changed, became clearer and louder – and the forces of nature that bound him abruptly subsided. He fell to his knees, coughing and gasping for air again, but faster than he realised what had happened, the ground tilted again. This time forward. Round two, now without the sea as a potentially deadly pillow, but with the hard deck. Then probably through the hatch into the hold, where he would break through the walls or get crushed by all the junk there. He screamed, fell on the spot and skidded. A new kind of rollercoaster, with no rails, no restraint systems, completely freestyle. The way Beanelda was still laughing, it may have been created just for her. But the problems of such an attraction became apparent at the latest once the companions slid down and clung to the rudder. They hung from it yet again, even bouncing against each other due to their momentum. And their legs continued to straighten, their bodies became lighter. Would they plunge into the dark depths this time? Was the sea no longer satisfied with Luigi, but was taking the rest too?

A sudden crash from behind, combined with an indefinable scream, sent the unfortunate duo whirling around as much as they could; faster than Luigi's trained escape reflexes could act, two smaller silhouettes flew past him. Followed by a third, much larger one. But neither gave him enough time to recognise what they were. He didn't need to – that third silhouette was also screaming. As high as a deep, growling voice could go, which made it all the more bizarre. It disappeared into the darkness of the main deck, in stark contrast to the hysterical screeching from the cabin, which remained.

The vocalised agony of an old lady who had lost her loved one.