How to Be a Pirate - Cowell Cressida (читать книги онлайн бесплатно без сокращение бесплатно .TXT) 📗

STATISTICS

COLORS: Black and purple.

ARMED WITH: Terrifying teeth, claws etc ......9

RADAR: Yes, also strong sense of smell .... 7

POISON: None.....................0

HUNTING ABILITY:

You don't want to be the prey.............9

SPEED: Very, very fast..........9

FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR:

Nasty -- unprecedented savagery*......8 or 9.

[Image: dinosaur.]

[Insert: (but you do have a chance cause they can't see or hear)]

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"The Skullion," said Hiccup, always delighted to be asked a natural-history question, "is a very rare, very savage species of flightless dragon. Despite being blind and very nearly deaf, it is one of the most fearsome predators of all dragons, hunting in packs using a highly developed sense of smell alone. ..."

"Okay, okay," said Stoick hurriedly, "we get the picture. ..."

"It has this one extra-long super-sharp claw," continued Hiccup, "with which it disables its victims by cutting the Achilles tendon at the back of their heels, leaving them unable to walk. It then eats them alive."

NOT very nice.

"Ahhhhh," said Alvin. "I see the problem. But I am sure a man as clever as you, Stoick, will be able to lead a quest to the Isle of the Skullions to find this treasure nonetheless."

"A quest to the Isle of the Skullions would be total madness," said Old Wrinkly firmly.

"Grimbeard's sword, the Stormblade, will be part of this treasure," wheedled Alvin. "And if you held the Stormblade the name of Hooligan would be feared again throughout the barbarian world. ..."

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Stoick stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"And you, Stoick," cooed Alvin, "picture yourself with diamonds sprinkled in your beard, a golden breastplate, the Stormblade flaming terribly in one hand, bracelets for those handsome wrists of yours. I can see you already, Mogadon kneeling humbly before you. What a vision you will be!"

Stoick sucked in his belly and flexed his muscles. He'd always secretly fancied himself in a pair of earrings.

"I'LL DO IT!" he yelled.

"FELLOW HOOLIGANS!" he bellowed. "I shall lead you on a quest to find the treasure of our ancestors!"

"But it's insane!" cried Hiccup. "Anyone who sets one toe on that island will be eaten alive in moments! It's suicide to even think of it!"

Everyone was cheering too hard to listen to Hiccup.

"Glory and riches shall be ours," beamed Stoick, patting Alvin painfully hard on the back.

"Oh, here we gooo ...." moaned Hiccup to himself.

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7. PRACTICING SWORD-FIGHTING AND SNIFFING FOR TREASURE

In Hiccup's opinion, everything went wrong from the moment Alvin the Poor-but-Honest Farmer was let out of the coffin. It wasn't Alvin's fault, of course. He was a most entertaining and enjoyable companion.

He made the women blush by praising their muscles and their fat yellow plaits. He made the men laugh with hilarious farty jokes and impressions of Mogadon the Meathead. He made the children adore him by telling stories of the trickeries and battles of long-dead Heroes.

Hiccup liked him, too.

Alvin came across Hiccup one day, practicing his swordfighting for the second depressing hour in a row.

Hiccup was trying to do Grimbeard's Grapple, and failing miserably every time. Stoick had given him a new sword to replace the Scaremaker, an impressively large and heavy one called a Stretchapoint.

"Got a lot of LENGTH to it, my boy," Stoick had

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said. "It'll make up for your shortness of arm. Give you a better reach."

But Hiccup had difficulty keeping it steady, and when he got to the lunge at the end he tended to fall over. He had just got up and wearily picked up the Stretchapoint for another go, when Alvin the Poor-but-Honest Farmer suddenly appeared right behind him and said, "Hiccup, isn't it?"

Hiccup was so startled he nearly fell over again. He hadn't realized he was being watched.

"You're the Heir to Stoick the Vast, aren't you?" smiled Alvin.

Hiccup sighed. "Well, I hope so," he said. "That's the general idea, anyway. But unless I get better at this swordfighting, I'm never going to be anybody's Heir. I'm HOPELESS at it."

[Image: A sword.]

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"No, no," said Alvin reassuringly, "you've got natural ability, I can see that. You just need a little coaching, that's all. Let me show you."

Alvin carefully put his helmet by the side of the ferns for safekeeping. Hiccup watched, fascinated, as he untwisted the claw attached to his right arm. In its place he fixed a "sword-holder" mechanism. He then drew his sword and showed Hiccup how he could fit it into the mechanism. He twisted it tight so it wouldn't fall off.

"A clever little contraption I designed myself," said Alvin. "I think I even fight better now than I did before the accident. ..." He twirled his mustache and demonstrated the Grapple himself.

"You see," said Alvin, "the weight should be kept on the left foot."

Hiccup followed him carefully ... and fell over again.

"BRAVO!" clapped Alvin, to Hiccup's surprise.

"But I fell over again," said Hiccup.

"But with such STYLE," said Alvin. "You can't teach that, it's in the blood."

Alvin replaced the sword with the claw and picked up his helmet. He made a grimace as he put

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it back on his head. He took it off again and peered inside. "There seems to be some sort of MUD in here, some sort of very SMELLY mud. ..."

"It's all over your hair, I'm afraid, sir," said Hiccup.

Alvin looked horrified. He was very particular about his personal appearance. He hurried away to wash it off.

[Image: A dragon.]

Toothless, who had been hunting rats through

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the ferns, came and perched on Hiccup's shoulder. He had the giggles.

Eventually, when he got his breath back, he choked out, "P-p-pooed in his helmet.... "

"TOOTHLESS!" scolded Hiccup. "That's revolting and unkind. Why did you poo inpoor Alvin's helmet?"

"H-h-he's a BAD MAN," replied Toothless.

"Who, Alvin the Poor-but-Honest Farmer?" asked Hiccup in surprise. "Don't be so prejudiced, Toothless. Just because he's not from round these parts doesn't make him a bad man...."

"S-s-suit yourself," shrugged Toothless, checking out his wings for dragonfleas. "Toothless thinks he's an O-O-Outcast."

Hiccup started nervously.

Outcasts were Vikings who were so vicious, so terrible and sneaking and burglarous, that they had been cast out of regular Viking society, and had formed an extraordinarily ferocious Tribe of their own. It was even rumored that some Outcasts ate their enemies.

"Oh, come ON," protested Hiccup. "He doesn't look anything LIKE an Outcast."

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"Y-y-you ever seen one?" asked Toothless.

"Well, no," admitted Hiccup, "but neither have you, and y ou haven't a shred of evidence. Let's go and get some lunch and forget this rubbish."

That conversation sowed a little seed of doubt in Hiccup's mind.

He was already feeling uneasy because he knew that he and all the other boys were going to have to join in this suicidal quest to the Isle of the Skullions, which would set out just as soon as Stoick and Alvin had worked out a Plan to avoid the Tiny Problem of everybody being eaten alive the moment they landed on the island.