The Pirates! In an Adventure with Communists: A Novel

The Pirates! In an Adventure with Communists: A Novel

London, 1840: Wagner's latest opera plays to packed houses while disgruntled workers gather in crowded pubs to eat ice cream and plan the downfall of the bourgeoisie. Meanwhile, the Pirate Captain finds himself incarcerated at Scotland Yard, in a case of mistaken identity. Discovering that his doppelgänger is none other than Karl Marx, the Captain and his crew are unwittingly caught up in a sinister plot that involves intellectual giants, enormous beards, and a quest to discover whether ham might really be the opium of the people. Includes, at no additional charge, The Wit and Wisdom of the Pirate Captain — a Major Philosophical Work . On the Matter of Love: If you're off to fight in a battle, snap a ship's biscuit in half and give your girlfriend the other half. When you meet again, they will match—like two halves of a single soul! Hopefully, this will stop her sleeping with other men. On Life in General: Life is like a big shanty. Everything will be fine so long as everyone sings in harmony. But if someone plays a duff note on the accordion or tries to break-dance at a sensitive bit, then there will be all sorts of trouble, mark my words. “Laugh out-loud. . . . Equal parts witty and absurd, The Pirates! In an Adventure with Communists will put a smile on the face of even the stiffest reader.” — Memphis Flyer Gideon Defoe was born in 1975 and lives in London. Because of all the usual politics and petty jealousies rife throughout the literary world, neither of his previous books, The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists nor The Pirates! In an Adventure with Ahab , has been nominated for the Pulitzer Prize. Chapter One NIGHTMARE ON SHARK MOUNTAIN The best thing to do,’ said the albino pirate, ‘is shave his belly with a rusty razor.’ ‘That’s rubbish!’ said the pirate with gout. ‘You should soak him in a barrel until he grows flippers.’ ‘You should put him in bed with the Captain’s daughter!’ ‘You should stick a plaster on his back!’ The pirates were sat in the boat’s kitchen arguing over what the proper protocol was for dealing with a drunken pirate. After the debate about whether sea anemones made better pretend moustaches or better pretend eyebrows when you stuck them to your face, this was easily the pirates’ favourite topic of conversation. Discussions onboard a pirate boat usually escalated into violence without much prompting, and the albino pirate was just about to empty a carton of milk over the pirate with gout’s head when the door crashed open and into the kitchen strode the Pirate Captain himself. Even in slippers and dressing gown, the Pirate Captain cut an imposing figure. If you were to compare him to a type of font – because whilst the pirates usually liked to compare people to types of tree, just recently they had taken to comparing people to other stuff as well, like fonts, or creatures, or makes of cheese – he would undoubtedly be Impact, or maybe Rockwell Extra Bold. His years of staring at the ocean had given him a nice even tan, and when asked to describe himself in letters to pen friends he would tend to note that he was ‘all teeth and curls’ but with ‘a pleasant, open face’.1 And most strikingly of all, he wore a great luxuriant beard that the pirates knew had inspired at least one book of epic poetry, because the Captain had personally dictated it on an adventure when it had been too rainy to get up to much else. ‘Sorry, Pirate Captain,’ said the albino pirate, who knew that they weren’t supposed to fight at the breakfast table. ‘We didn’t mean to disturb you. We were just discussing what the best thing to do with a drunken pirate is. You know how we can never seem to decide.’ The Pirate Captain looked thoughtful. ‘The best thing to do with a drunken pirate,’ he said firmly, ‘is to give him some strong black coffee.’ And with the argument settled, the Pirate Captain grabbed a tray of breakfast and strode back towards his office. ‘He’s right,’ said the pirate with gout. ‘That makes a lot more sense. I don’t actually know what “soaking him in a barrel until he grows flippers” even means.’ The Pirate Captain sat back down at the desk in his office, or ‘nerve centre’ as he had been trying to encourage the men to call it, on account of that sounding more exciting. The cabin was decorated with all kinds of maps, charts, calendars, trophies and at least half a dozen portraits. There was one of the Pirate Captain with a large white whale, the latter smiling weakly and waving its tail. There was a painting of him wearing a string vest and holding a ship’s wheel in each hand to draw attention to the musculature in his arms and chest; and another showed him from the rear, walking across a tennis court and scratching his behind. Then there were the gifts from the crew – a series of commemorative plates that depicted famous pirate haircuts, a wind chime made out of miniature cutlasses, a tea towel with ‘10 Facts About Pirates’ and so on. Even the Captain occ