13 The Vote

13. THE VOTE "You see," said Jim's mom, "the Pirate Cruncher's allergic to macaws, and these 'ere parrots can help ye all escape." The pirates were barely listening. They had surrounded the cage and were cooing over their long- lost parrots. Some tickled their parrots' heads through the bars. All of the pirates looked very happy.

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"Do ye remember Banana Bill?" asked Jim. "Aye!" said a wrinkled pirate captain with a threadbare hat and a beard that almost reached the ground. "He were my first mate, so he was. But he disappeared one day. Went lookin' for his parrot, never to return. Fell in them scurvy stomach juices, no doubt, and slipped into the Cruncher's bowels. Shame, he were a lovely chap." "No!" said Jim. "He's alive! He's livin' on an island not far from 'ere, with a thousand parrots!" "And quite a lot of monkeys," added Grandpa.

Jim retold the story of Banana Bill's escape. As he spoke, the old pirates pulled up crates and barrels to sit on, cracked open bottles of grog, and stroked their beards. Then Jim told them Matilda's escape plan. By the time he had finished, every pirate in the Pirate Cruncher's belly was rapt, apart from Grandpa, who had drunk quite a lot of grog and was once again snoring in the back of the car-boat. "We need to vote!" hollered a huge purple-bearded pirate who looked as old as the sea. His hair had gone gray, but a purple hue somehow remained in his beard. "We vote on everythin' down 'ere,

don't we, lads? So, who's in favor of the plan?" Almost all of the arms shot in the air, along with a few hooks. Only one pirate voted against the plan. He was Alfred of 'Averford West, a pale, bedraggled rogue with a nervous tic and clothes that seemed to wriggle as he walked. "I've never been too keen on the sea," he mumbled nervously. "All that sky and ocean and wide, open beaches. I like it down 'ere in the dark, with my friends." He stroked a rat sitting on his knee, which then disappeared beneath his doublet.

"So!" said Purplebeard. "Only one against! We will follow the plan!" The pirates cheered, swinging their bottles of grog in the air and dancing around. "We need to build some rafts," shouted Jim's mom above the merriment. "Cobble together some of this timber and lash it good and strong. Fix up some sails and maybe some oars. How many pirates are ye?"