Welcome and enjoy your free read.

Here is your serialization of the award winning novel "Monkey" by Frank Mosco.

Chapter 7

* for Nov. 11th thru Nov. 17th, 2018 *

Return each week to read another entertaining chapter and keep coming back until you have completed the book.

Upon completion of the final chapter, find the special free gift to be given with the release and introduction of the Monkey sequel titled

~ On Still Waters ~

The material on this page is copyrighted and not intended to be copied,

used, shared or stored beyong this web site.



CHAPTER 7

The Great Escape!

      Captain Buckmaster and Stanley were standing on the deck of the Crimson Glory signing off on the recently acquired ship’s stores when they heard in the distance the Princeton University fight song or at best a poor rendition. When they looked up they saw the rugby boys parading down the dock in formation, Irish leading the way with a broom for a drum major’s baton in one hand and balancing the basket of Jonesy’s weird food on his head with the other. He was followed by Big Tiny who was carrying on his shoulders one Soo Lee Min Jones, Oxford Rhodes Scholar and now local hero. Jonesy brandished a royal scepter in the form of a bottle of booze in one hand and cradled the rugby ball in the other. Behind them followed the staggering formation of the rest of the drunken and battered Princeton ivy leaguers.

      Nearby on the Ictinus, a bruised black and blue Greek sailor looked out over the ship to also discover the returning Crimson Glory victors. The sailor called to his fellow shipmates who immediately began to gather together, picking up pipes, tools and other potential weapons along the way. They all moved to disembark and confront the parade on the dock below. That is until from above, near the bridge of their ship, an imposing Captain gripped a rail and bellowed with undisputed authority down to his crew.

      “If you men leave this ship I swear I will trade your asses to cannibals for a jug of cold wine and a hot woman,” threatened their Captain, in Greek of course.

      The Greek crewmen all halted; disappointed they couldn’t defend their honor. They instead moved grudgingly to line the side of their ship and look down on the passing parade.

     When the Crimson Glory parade passed the Ictinus, drum major Irish called his troops to order.

      “Right then lads. Here we go now,” he ordered.

      His little company stood smartly, as much as possible at least.

      “Crimson Glory! Eyyyes left!”

      They all turned their heads sharply as they marched past, looking up to the Ictinus crew. Jonesy tossed the bottle, contemptuously smashing it against the hull of their ship, agitating the already angry Greeks. Irish continued his direction.

      “Presennnnnnt… arms!”

     They all stopped and with the exception of Irish who was carrying Jonesy’s basket of weird food and Big Tiny who was carrying Jonesy, the entire group turned their backs to the Ictinus, dropped their trousers and mooned the Greeks. Jonesy contributed to the group insult by extending a one-finger salute. This threw the Greeks into a fury of angry protest, beating on the rails of the Ictinus, cursing and offering a few spiteful salutes of their own. Then Irish resumed command.

      “Crimson Glory! Attennnnn… tion!”

      The drunken rugby boys snatched up their trousers and stood tall.

      “Forwarrrrrd… march!”

      Off they marched, ordered, proud, victorious, and sloppy as hell. Bringing up the rear stepped Bart, much more inebriated than the rest. He turned back to the Ictinus to offer a final word of insult.

      “Yalies!”

      And with that final word his trousers slipped down, fully bearing his ass, tripping and lurching him forward to nearly fall on his face. The Greeks burst with laughter all the while continuing to extend insults.

      “Might I suggest we set sail immediately following the boarding of your party, Mr. Wellington,” said a worried Captain Buckmaster, having witnessed the parade incident.

      “Suggest hell,” exclaimed Stanley. “Cast off now, Captain! While we still have a ship to sail on!”

      Stanley pointed in the direction of the Ictinus where the Captain looked to also see her riotous angry Greek crew had gone against their own Captain’s wishes and decided to pursue the rugby boys. He turned quickly and began barking orders all about the ship.

      “All crew stand ready! Lose those lines fore and aft.  Prepare to draw up the gangplank as soon as our people come aboard. And prepare to repel boarders if necessary!”

      The crew of the Crimson Glory looked up to the Captain unbelieving of his final order. Captain Buckmaster pointed to the dock and the approaching Greeks and repeated his order.

      “I said, prepare to repel boarders damnit, and do it smartly!”

      The crew all rushed to carry out the Captains orders while Stanley rushed to the side of the ship yelling down to his marching men who were again crooning their school fight song and ignorant of the oncoming herd of angry Greeks behind them.

      “Bart! Irish! Run! Run!” he yelled, waving his arms to gain their attention.

      Bart looked up to Stanley, returned the wave and extended his ever-appealing shit-eating smile.

      “Behind you!” warned Stanley emphatically. “Look behind you! Irish! Tiny! Behind you! The Greeks!”

      None of the group caught Stanley’s desperate pleas, all being absorbed in their slapdash rendition of the Princeton fight song. Until Jonesy that is. Possibly the soberest of them all and having an ear for language, Jonesy somehow filtered out the song and deciphered Stanley’s desperate warning. That plus the fact he could see Stanley desperately jumping up and down and pointing to the approaching Greeks. When he looked back he discovered the threat first hand.

      “Holy shit!” exclaimed Jonesy. In Chinese.

      “What?” asked Big Tiny.

      “Holy shit!” Jonesy repeated, again in Chinese, pointing desperately back to the onrushing Greeks.

      Big Tiny looked up with a smile then turned easily to see why Jonesy was so agitated. It took him only a second to realize the approaching peril, even under the influence of nearly a dozen beers. The enraged Greeks were at a full trot now, each carrying some manner of dangerous implement, intent on drawing blood.

      “GREEKS!” yelled Big Tiny, his heavy voice having no problem penetrating and overcoming the babbling school fight song. They all got the message and scrambled for the safety of the Crimson Glory. Big Tiny quickly dumped Jonesy who, still carrying the rugby ball, sprinted through the now drunken scurrying group and along the crowded dock for safety, all the while looking like, though on a much smaller scale, none other than the great Red Grange.

      Obviously the rugby boys’ present condition limited their speed although the situation was quickly sobering. The Greeks, having the element of surprise were quickly closing the gap, so much so they were right on their heals as they reached and sprinted up the Crimson Glory’s gangplank. Nearly overrun and captured by three of the fastest Greeks, the last of the pursued, Irish and Bart, dove from the gangplank to the deck of the ship just as the gangplank fell away into the water. The Crimson Glory drifted away from her mooring with her crew, as per the Captains orders, standing ready at the rails with all available implements to repel boarders but none came for none of the Greeks could bridge the growing space between the dock and ship. Everyone breathed relief. Lying on the deck, Irish and Bart burst into laughter, eventually joined by the entire crew until the jovial moment came to an abrupt end by Captain Buckmaster.

      “Where’s Jonesy?” asked the Captain.

      Everyone looked around, shrugged, then looked again with no results. Then a riotous noise rose from back on the dock and when the ship’s company looked over they discovered a desperate Jonesy, still carrying the rugby ball, sprinting in and out, to and fro, back and forth, through the pursuing angry Greeks, all the while screaming desperately in what seemed to be five different languages. All meaning the same thing.

      “Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!”

      “Jonesy!” yelled Bart. “Run man!  Run!”

      A remedy to Jonesy’s situation flashed through Stanley’s mind and he quickly looked to the dock then to the ship’s rigging. He rushed to the side of the ship, climbed her rigging to the main mast spar, snatched a line then yelled down to Jonesy.

      “Jonesy!  Here!”

      Little Jonesy, still running and dodging the Greeks, glanced up and quickly grasp Stanley’s plan though he didn’t know, with the ship pulling away from the dock, it would be a one shot opportunity. In addition, failure meant a desperate swim to catch his ship.

      The ship’s company of the Crimson Glory now lined the side of their vessel and began cheering Jonesy on as though he were the last hope in the final moments of the Rose Bowl Game. This gave the little cook renewed enthusiasm as he came back for a final round through the gauntlet of enraged Greeks. Into the mouth of the dragon he went, courageously clenching the ball for pride of ship, cutting left then right, dodging, sprinting, sliding and Holy Shitting in various languages.  A final look up to the ship to gain his bearings and then the final sprint for the end zone. At that same instant Stanley grasp the line then threw himself out and away in the opposite direction, knowing when the line came taut it would swing him down in an arc that would just barely reach the bulkhead of the dock. Jonesy had to pass only one more obstacle, one more angry Greek, the burly guy who took the first blow that started it all. As big as the man was he was also fast and agile. Jonesy faked but the Greek didn’t bite, faked again but again the Greek won out. Then Jonesy, quick witted and cerebral, took a whole different approach and simply stopped.

      “Okay,” huffed a tired Jonesy, in Greek. “I give up.”

      The big burly man rose from his attacking crouch and smiled victoriously then Jonesy launched and landed a penetrating right foot square in the big Greek’s gonads. When the unbearable pain quickly doubled the man over, Jonesy took three steps, jumped, launched himself off the Greek’s back and into the air where he was met and caught by Stanley then swung back to the safety of the ship.  All on the ship went wild with enthusiastic approval while the crew of the Ictinus stood on the dock, dejected. Jonesy was raised above the Crimson Glory company and paraded about as though he had indeed just won the Rose Bowl and to prove it he still possessed and held high with pride Big Tiny‘s rugby ball. Little Jonesy, to date appreciated for his intellect and unappreciated for his cuisine, was now a certified hero in the eyes of one and all, and for the rest of the voyage would walk a little taller. A little taller.

      Stanley, meanwhile, melted away to join the Captain where he settled for a simple pat on the back and a beer soaked smile of approval from his good friend Bart.

      “Yalies.”

END CHAPTER 7

Be sure and return next week for Chapter 8.

Don't forget to look for the special free gift to be given with the release and introduction of the Monkey sequel titled,

~ On Still Waters ~

NEXT WEEK!

Chapter 8

Falling Bobbie

SEE YOU AGAIN SOON!