12 The Belly of the Beast

12. THE BELLY OF THE BEAST They ended up at the back of the Pirate Cruncher's mouth. Amazingly, the vehicle was upright, floating in a pool of saliva. Grandpa and Bones were standing on the tongue and peering down the monster's throat, into the darkness. There was no sign of Squawk. "I ain't sure this is such a good idea," said Grandpa. "Yer made yer plan on the word of the squab who lives with the monkeys, y'say?"

"Maybe ye'd best hop aboard, Grandpa," said Jim. He whistled, and Bones bounded across the fleshy

surface and jumped onto Jim's knee. There were murmurings from the parrots, who were still covered by the tarpaulin. Jim's mom turned the key, and the vehicle's engine spluttered to life. Grandpa climbed into the back and buckled his seatbelt. But before they could drive anywhere, there was a mighty gurgling and a wave of liquid gushed from the monster's gut, splashing against the sides of the car-boat. The tongue lifted, and the vehicle surged upward and was thrown into the darkness Jim's mom was steering, but had very little control as they surfed the wave of saliva down toward the Pirate Cruncher's

belly. At times the wheels would make contact with the walls of the throat and they'd speed along, before being lifted again by the stream of juices. They landed with a splash in a great bubbling puddle littered with bones and jetsam. In the gloom, Jim could make out ramshackle buildings constructed from sections of ships, tattered sails, and upturned boats. Candles and oil lamps fickered, illuminating

the dark, damp confines of the beast's enormous stomach. Jim's mom put the vehicle into gear and switched on the headlights, and they trundled slowly toward the shacks. Bones hopped onto the front of the vehicle, sniffing the briny air. The candlelight threw large shadows of figures scurrying around amid the shacks onto the stomach walls, but Jim couldn't see anyone. The makeshift town was eerily quiet. A dark, tattered shape dashed across their path. Bones growled. A head popped up from behind an upturned rowboat, and the vehicle came to a halt.

"WHO ARE YE?" screeched a voice. "We are the Jolley-Rogers!" Jim shouted, peering into the darkness. There were murmurings and the sound of movement. More shadowy shapes popped up here and there, in hats and rags, with wild hair and long beards, all peering at Jim with glaring eyes. Some held lanterns aloft, which only made their faces look creepier as the flickering light cast hard shadows across their grizzled features.