How to Be a Pirate - Cowell Cressida (читать книги онлайн без txt) 📗

"Now, now," said Alvin soothingly, "little clams in their shells agree. This should be a JOYFUL moment, the beginning of a glorious new era for the Hooligan Tribe. There is plenty of treasure for all of you. I propose a toast to celebrate the finding of the treasure."

The Hooligans cheered, hoping to get over a difficult moment. Gobber and Hugefarts pulled Stoick and Baggybum apart, because otherwise they were clearly prepared to stand there all day. Some of the other Hooligan Warriors handed out black-currant wine for the toast.

Stoick the Vast drew the Stormblade. He had already decked himself out in some fancy earrings from the treasure chest.

"Half-wits and HEROES," he shouted. "We,

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a small band of unbeatable barbarians, are about to become the center of a New Empire, an Empire to rival Rome in her glory days! With this treasure," Stoick lifted his cup of black-currant wine, his eyes glittering, "the Hairy Hooligans shall become

INVINCI --"

[Image: A ship.]

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14. THE DAY TAKES A TURN FOR THE WORSE

Stoick never finished the word "invincible" because halfway through he was grabbed around the neck by an enormous wild-eyed individual and a not very clean knife was held to his neck. So the word ended up more like "INVINCI-ugh-ugh-ugh/' as Stoick choked and his eyes popped.

All around the rowing benches every Hooligan aboard had been grabbed from behind and knives were held at every throat.

The Hooligans' nerves were still jangling from the flight from the Skullions. And they had been so busy arguing that they hadn't spotted a small sleek boat sneaking up through the mist and drawing alongside the Lucky Thirteen. A boat named the Hammerhead with a sail curved like a shark's fin and a red skull and crossbones painted on the side. A boat packed to the brim with OUTCASTS.

They were not a pretty crew, despite their height, and their handsome red hair, and their gorgeous clothes, and every kind of golden ornament. Many had

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scars carved into their faces. One or two were without a nose or an ear. Most had filed their teeth into sharp little points, like the teeth of a shark. Even the good-looking ones were disfigured by dark red tattoos, said to be made out of the blood of their enemies. They talked to each other in the

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most difficult of Viking languages, Outcastese, which sounds very much like the barking of a dog.

The Outcasts had swarmed over the side and crept up behind the Hooligans as they were admiring the Treasure and themselves. Toothless had smelt them, of course. He knew they were coming and he had been going crazy inside the big heavy barrel, shrieking at the top of his voice, "OUTCASTS! R-R-RUN FOR YOUR LIVES, YOU S-S-S-STUPID H-H-HUMANS!!!"

But nobody had heard him.

All in all, this was turning into a very bad day for the Hooligans. Outcasts, like Skullions, are the kind of creature one really hopes one can live a lifetime without bumping into, let alone seeing BOTH of them at close quarters in the space of one morning.

Hiccup did not realize they were Outcasts. But he knew they were Bad Trouble.

His heart started jumping in his chest like a mudskipper as he looked into the terrible face of the man who had Stoick the Vast by the throat. His curly horns were quite three feet high. When he opened his mouth he growled like a dog.

For a whole minute, nobody said a word.

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Nobody dared move a muscle. There was no noise at all except for that terrible dog-like growling from the Outcast who was holding Stoick ... and the sound of Alvin drinking.

[Image: A pirate.]

There was no knife at Alvin's throat.

Calmly, he finished off the last delicious drops of black-currant wine. Smoothly, he put the cup down.

"I thought that I would provide a -- ah -- surprise ending to our little journey," said Alvin, with his charming smile. "I DO like surprises, don't you, my dear Stoick?"

Stoick gargled inarticulately.

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"Such fun, aren't they?" continued Alvin. "I am so sorry to say, however, that the day of glory for the Hooligan Tribe may be -- ah -- put off for a while. You see, I feel that I ought to have rather more of the treasure then a mere ten percent. And in case you didn't agree I thought I would bring along some of my relatives to -- ah -- persuade you to give it up."

Stoick gargled again.

Alvin barked out a few words in Outcastese to Curly Horns, who barked back at him again.

"I have to admit at this point that I have been guilty of a little innocent deception," said Alvin. "My name is not Alvin the Poor-but-Honest Farmer. I am, in fact, His Most Mighty Murderousness Alvin the Treacherous, Great High Chieftain of the Outcast Tribe. I don't know why, but I felt that if I had told you this from the beginning you might not have given me a very warm welcome."

"An OUTCAST?" gasped the Hooligans.

Alvin laughed. "That's right," he said, "an Outcast. Us Outcasts don't always go around on all fours dressed in animal skins, you know. Even we are moving with the times." He went over to Stoick and gently removed the Stormblade from Stoick's hand.

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"MINE, I think," said Alvin.

Alvin unscrewed the claw from his right hand, as Hiccup had seen him do once before. He attached his "sword-holder" contraption in its place, into which he carefully twisted the Stormblade. He screwed it very tightly, so that it was completely steady. And while he did all this, he talked.

"You see, Stoick," said Alvin, "we Barbarian Chieftains are facing a new challenge. We have to fight the creeping forces of Civilization by becoming FIERCER and CRUELER than ever. YOU, Stoick, have GONE SOFT."

"I have NOT!" protested Stoick indignantly.

"Grimbeard the Ghastly would be turning in his grave if he could see you now," tut-tutted Alvin. "You Hooligans have become bungling AMATEURS, all noise and show with no real wickedness to you at all. Now, I have worked hard to bring us Outcasts up to date. Outwardly, we now have some of the clothes and the manners of Civilization ... but inwardly we are tougher and more truly Outcast than we have ever been. We are your REAL PROFESSIONAL PIRATES, heartless, murdering, bloodsucking slave-traders. ..." Alvin paused for breath.

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"Talking of which," he then continued, "take your last look at your rather plain little island. ..." He gestured at the friendly cliffs of Berk. 'All of you Hooligans are about to enter the slave trade yourselves, in the very important role of SLAVES."

The Hooligans groaned. There was no worse fate for a proud and independent Viking than to be sold into bondage.

[Image: A pirate.]

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"I am sure you will all make excellent slaves," said Alvin kindly, "because you are all very strong, and, frankly, none too bright. And I do hate to threaten, but anybody who objects will thoroughly regret it."

An Outcast with no nose stepped forward and uncurled an ugly black whip from around his waist, with a handle shaped like a serpent.

Alvin clapped his hands and the Outcasts began loading the Hooligans onto the deck of the Hammerhead.

[Image: Pirates.]

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"Yup, you shall all be slaves. All that is ...," smiled Alvin, "... except for you, Stoick."

Curly Horns let Stoick go, and proudly, he stepped forward.

"To Chieftains and their descendants we pay the ultimate sign of respect," said Alvin with just a tiny hint of menace in his voice, "by EATING them."