Set Sail Upon The Striken Sea of Life, Strife and Turmoil.

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The following tale you are about to encounter is one of which you might expect to hear from a clearly inebriated old man wearing a sharp tweed overcoat, jacket and triple-breasted suit...
It is a saga that spans more years than any one man can count on a single finger...
A story so mind-bogglingly complex it barely manages to fit within the confines of the English language.
Fortunately Earth MK2 has the technology to bring you this wonder filled tale directly through your primary feedback visual sockets...
Now :

"Ladies and Gentry it goes without saying why you have come here...  You have come as many before have done.  To hear me recount the many woes, troubles and strives, I and my forefathers have overcome through the generations in the name of our Kings and Country...

The ******* family name no doubt needs no explanation as I am sure you are each aware  (owning libraries of your own or have access to a friends) so I shall not waste time on such formalities.  So once I have had a second brandy I shall instead press on with my address...

Unfortunately the Sea has not been good to my eyes; 
It has been many years since I've been able to read under candle light on a warm and sunny the summers day, so I will not be reading from my journal & shall instead be working from memory. 
As you can see the young Master Dawson here will be taking notes with his Dictagraph for my forthcoming second autobiography this evening, after which he will be shot as may any audience members attending this evening without the appropriate attire.

And now that my brandy is filled lets begin...
They used to say a man's... "

CHAPTER THE FIRST

__ --The Summers Of Disconnect-- __

They used to say a man's home is his island... as did Father -  quite a lot come to think of it.

As a Captain in the British Navy he would often bring his work home with him.

The garden would often be littered with sailors, rum, tobacco leaf and the occasional frigate.

As you would expect Father was obviously a big influence on my life. I can recall many moments where he'd impart valuable and reliable knowledge upon me and though a myriad of decades have come and gone they remain with me dry as a bell -although admittedly my body may ravaged by the beast of time.

I can feel the tide of memories flooding back now...

“The sun..  Is it out?” I venture to ask, rubbing sleep from my eyes and on to the lapel of my pajamas.
“Yes, its always outside son” He answered, looking out through the glass. “..that's the way it works”

“oh” I thought, as I absorbed the immense implications of such knowledge.

And absorb I did, and the last time I checked it was practically 100% accurate. - With the exception of a fortnight last Wednesday when there was that unfortunate eclipse causing The Salty Seaman to go down with all hands, but apart from that single exception those words have been fared well.

 Yes, Father was without doubt wise and some say clairvoyant man.  His tactical decisions, intuition and straight talking gained him a unique reputation as I'm sure you are aware. …

“Father?” I once asked, condensing an entire sentence down to one word.

“Yes.” He replied,.
 
The matter was ended there, after all what else need be said?

Over the following year we had many such conversations but none so potent as the one we had on that day. ...Even now it brings a tear to my eye to think about it.

((:A SHORT INTERMISSION:))

The double-welded bond between parent and child is not unlike arctic bound ship made of titanium.
Yes we spend a lot of time by the window in the summer.  Mother would sometimes join us when she had finished tending to the house servants....

“Is it me or is there a draft?” I asked Father absentmindedly..

“its you” Still looking out through the window. “We don't own the Draft any more ”

“.” added mother, as she slowly poured water in to a long glass at an abnormal rate.

I saluted and left Father to his observation  - Later that evening I discovered what Father did for a living.

Childhood is said to be the fondest of times and I have many fond memories of those summers in the country with Mother and Father, by the window.....

It was a particularly mild summer from what I remember  -  unlike the previous summer or the summer that was to follow, and positively the opposite of the subsequent 'summer of 1869' that was to enter the history books as the hottest since records began – which we all know date back to the autumn of 1864, a year that was so cold it prompted them to start the record-making in the first place.

But I digress...

Father was adjusting his wheel by the window as mother attended to the rigging, so I joined him.
He looked particularly concerned about the state of the horizon.  Light-grey clouds hung above.
All I could see was the grass swaying with the wind, but I lacked Father's experience.

“What is it Father? Is the weather fair?”
“There is nothing as unfair as the weather Son” he replied, wiping a solemn tear from his eye.

Outside leaves were blowing and bellowing back and forth with the wind spraying up clouds of dirt.

I could see Father's hands tighten on the wheel.

As we looked out together it dawned on me that the clouds work under the same arrangement as the sun does only on a more regular basis.

“Don't you like clouds Father”

“Star charts are no good when you cant see the stars.” he said, gently turning the wheel starboard.

I hear it is quite unusual for a Captain to take quite so much work home, but you really must understand that The Navy was his life.
In an establishment such as Her Majesty's Navy one must learn the virtues of hard, solid, relentless, continual, whole-hearted, sweat-inducing work... and these were the virtues he would bestow upon my young self.

I was idly tending to one of our nine cats which had broken its tail as mother returned from where she had been - as she often did.
Father was by the window smoking a clay pipe and frowning at the trees as two servants sloshed a horse trough back and forth on the other side of the glass.

I didn't want to tell him about the leak in the roof I discovered while playing, but I had overheard one of the servants saying it might rain so felt bound by duty to volunteer the information to Father immediately.
As a child I had no idea of what saying “we've sprung a leak” would do.  -  I also had no knowledge about the personal and professional tragedies that had befallen him less than three lunar years previously.

Yes that was a summer to remember,
I never knew a home could sink but through the sharp thinking and down-to-earth honest British know-how the disaster was averted and our home salvaged...
The only casualty of course that summer being Father whom was whisked away by some pleasant doctors (presumably on official duty) and young Anderson who fell from the mast during the evenings unexpected winds and met with his death in the form of the moist but decidedly solid ground some distance beneath him.

I shudder to think of the number of lives that were lost over the years, but as Father would often say 'Some never find their sea legs”.
What is worse no one ever though to teach the young Anderson to swim!

((:A SHORT INTERMISSION:))

Yes, many memories...

As I remember it Mother and Denton (our  Deputy Head Butler at the time) were securing anchor and Father and I were checking the stockroom – which was thick with the smells of tea, tobacco and human sweat.

We must have been about a week in to our summer possibly two, it was hard to tell I had spent most of the time below deck in the cellar playing boardgames and learning astronavigation...

Mother had told me the previous night that Denton had received word of a family illness and was intending to leave the following sunrise.

“Denton is leaving” I said as Father tallied up cargo.

I never seen where he walked off to.
I never heard the shot go off.

Mother told me later Father had been taken away on official business and would be back as soon as he felt it was safe to give the okay to the doctors.

When Father finally returned he explained the penalty for jumping ship then described in vivid details what happened to his fellow Captain who allowed a mutiny to take place on his ship.

I understood and cancelled Mother's trip to the shops accordingly.

Isn't it marvellous how the years fly by? ...yet the memories stay as clear as the day of the events.

Father was absent the following year.  As vice-captain and second to the throne I did my best to fill his boots.

Mother never come with news of when he would return so I tended the wheel until he did, that summer felt longer than most but with diligence and Gods help we got through it;

I made a few changes, - as responsibility demand it.
Before Father returned I had ordered that the lawn was to be cut back to a more agreeable length.
This took a long time but was worth it as it gave the grass the impression of being more calm than it previously was. ...After the three weeks of back-breaking trimming was finished I thanked Mother and gave her the day off with double rations... “Let none say you have not earned it”.

As she left our then current Butler, who's name evades me, entered and joined me at the helm..
“The clouds work under the same arrangement as the sun does only on a more regular basis.”

The following summer Father returned, as he rowed himself to the front steps I could see he was impressed with what I had done with the place. - No need to bring the grass to his attention.

That evening we had smoked pheasant, lemon and biscuits washed it down with triple helpings of sugar cane rum.
It was indeed, as they say, only the best at the Captains table. Even the most reluctant servants were given an extra helping of the cured pigeon that was discovered in the mast earlier that week. - I myself (like Father) don't care for pigeon.

As Mother fiddled with Father's sextant in the Wheel Room and I went about arranging Fathers charts when something curious cough my eye.

They were papers.
Papers that had been placed there by someone other than myself ...that someone was my Father and they were stamped with Her Majesty's very own seal.

I instinctively saluted and began singing the National Anthem.

Mother, upon hearing this, joined me as did the rest of the servants and their children - abandoning what they were otherwise doing.

We were roughly four minutes in to it when Father joined us silencing the air with word that Battle had broken loose. Fearing it may lead to war Mother hesitantly ventured “Will you have to...?”.

“The war has been postponed until I arrive...” Father replied. Nodding to the butler who was miming something to the effect of 'Shall I make ready your rowing boat and oars Captain?'.

It was a gloomy moment, and in complete opposition to the unhindered revelry and gay song that existed a mere moment earlier.
The servants one by one began disembarking from each other's shoulders and taking down the Union Jacks with solemn looks upon their faces.
I so hoped that Father could stay another night, but I knew it was not to be .  Father strode across the emptying room and to the glass and once more peered out.

I joined him at the window looking out for a few silent moments until I heard myself say “What are you looking at?”.

“Fetch me my ores” he replied, “...I need to be somewhere”.

I did as I was ordered, and met him by the steps.

Mother and I watched him slowly row off and wept.  It was the last time I seen Father, it was difficult to watch.

In the formidable years of battle that followed Father rose higher still through the ranks and gained the reputation and renown the family name is renowned for.

CHAPTER THE SECOND

__ --The First Chapter Of My Strife-- __

Of course being a Child of Naval blood I learned to swim at an early age.  I still have half clouded memories of feeling the lawn on my toes for the first time as Mother slowly lowered me down on to the depths of the grass.

Such a terrifying yet exhilarating experience can only be matched by that of actually stepping in to real water.

But that said one must always take safety in to consideration when dealing with Water, so it is for that reason I was taught on land. - Where I excelled at the breast stroke and 5oo meters freestyle.

Being competitive by nature (especially more so as a child) I quickly found myself entering in to many dry-land semi-professional competitive events, but the fad was not to last as my interest in the sport inevitably waned. At this time Father was still alive and was very much the driving force behind my initial interest in the sport.

Having represented the National Team in The British Empire Games of 1863 and won every game I entered (despite having fractured a shoulder blade after an unfortunate slip on a recently washed floor) my name became a household name. - Which was impressive in its self because the the family name was already pretty well known, not to mention the fact that Grandfather's image could be found hanging in the capital cities of any of the six respectable colonies.

Never-the-less in my own right I became a household name on a level that surpassed even them.

Seven days, five hours, twenty three minutes, and six seconds before my tenth birthday Battle was declared upon France and any others Enemies of The Empire past present or future - the nation wept.

Onion and Garlic effigies were burnt night and day for three days and on the forth, a mere three days before my tenth birthday a law was passed through our glorious Westminster Abbey that outlawed all French words from our God-Given English mother tongue. - the hot cuisine industry was decimated.

With typical unfortunity the same could not be said of France whom at the end of half-time come back with reinforcements dragging the whole sorry affair out in to a full-scale war.  And what is more they had the audacity to build a Navy.

Anger stirred in the nation and in me as the French continued to sail the seas in defiance until one day enraged by the news that France had never even applied to join The Commonwealth I enrolled in Her Majesty's British Navy, Infantry Division..
This clearly upset mother who had planned surprise a birthday party that afternoon.

Shortly after lunchtime I found myself in charge of a fleet of warships in the Mediterranean Sea,  
I of course being a valuable member of society directed the fleets movements from some considerable distance from the action – The dinning room generally.

With the aid of coloured maps that clearly displayed which parts of the world were British Owned and which parts were not I was quickly able to draw up a definitive map of the globe outlining which parts were “Good” and which were “BAD”.

With the aid of this innovative visualization tool and the knowledge imparted to me by Father over the years the orders were dispatched - Shortly afterwards a new fleet was ordered.

CHAPTER THE THIRD

__ --The Second Chances-- __

Having spent the family fortune by the age of twelve, sunk the house (after forgetting to anchor it over night), and the ongoing costs of the servants combined with an unexpected rise in inflation I was forced to leave The Navy and sold to a local Pawn Shop – it was then I slowly realised my childhood summers were gone forever and it was unlikely I would see them again..

Like a damaged hull in desperate need of repair my childhood strives were only to worsen as I caught the beady-eye of a passing Orphanage Owner as I sat in the window next to a collection of reduced price war memorabilia..  I sat transfixed by his curious choice in clothing as he appeared to brows the fire sale items directly between us.  Having seen them before I myself had lost interest in them.

The next morning a second-class Postman come to deliver me to Oliver's Orphanage For Bastards And Minor Offenders.

As the horse-carriage carried my package across the city I could see (through a discrete tear in the wrapping) people dancing and singing a song - about pockets from what I could hear.
I eventually lost interest in the upbeat heel-kicking, musical-obsessed crowd that seemed to have surrounded my box and began to take an interest in my more immediate surroundings.
Through my package I could still hear the jolly mood of the atmosphere that surrounded it, and that mood was to change the closer I got to my destination  -  which transpired to be  precisely sixteen bars away.

Not knowing who had bought me or where I could expect to end up I pondered the possibilities.
Eventually deciding there was a good chance I could find myself in a display cabinet or mantelpiece by the end of the end of the day.  -  Only time would reveal.

It wasn't long before I found myself in the company of my fellow inhabitants, the Orphanage and its moustache-wearing overseer Mr. Pier Bonaparte. 
He wore a distinctive black top  hat, a white shirt and a curious red sash.

His cane showed signs of recent bruising  - the small child that unwrapped me clutched a reddened-hand.

“SO Albert, we finally meet” Were the first words I heard through his unsettling voice, before he added with a menacing tone. “How things have changed? ...Look at you Empire now.”

My eyes were still busy adjusting to the light to be concerned with the finer details of the room such as being able to focus.
The room was still very much a blur.  -  A watery blur filled with a strange tone of contempt for an otherwise pleasant child as my younger self.

It was then I thought of the prophecy, all those years of training... the summers in the country.
Something about his voice or what he said made me clutch for the ring in my pocket, then confusion struck me as a thought of a succulent bacon sandwich sprung to the very foreground of my mind.

“What?” I said trying to remember what the prophecy said, hindered by the realisation I was in fact suffering from mild starvation.

“Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about Albert Windsor, I've waited a long time and now I finally have you” A cackle wildly rippled through the air taunting me like an unwelcome smell “ha ha ha ha-ha ha -ha-ha Haaaa-aa-a'h” the unnecessary laugh sending shivers down my calcium deficient spine.

“You can't be?!” I yelled, thrusting an arm upwards, only to realise I have now become shackled like a common slave or Scotsman..

” ..Yes it is I, the one who sank your Fathers battleship, and the one who will see an end to you too Albert Windsor!” His eyes wide with vanity. “Mwahaha -ahaha-....” he continued.

As he did I felt my finger reaching for the ring again but it wasn't there! I frantically searched but it was gone.
Why was it gone? Had I dropped it? Had it been stolen? ..and why would a profit loving Pawn Broker even allow me to keep such an obviously valuable thing in my possession?
It was then that my unfed mouth uttered those defiant words that shook my captor so much that he let down his guard enough to allow for the opportunity of escape.
"Never!"

It was a few seconds before I realised that I had imagined the ring due to the delirium and poor ventilation of my packaging, in momentary denial I awaited the Seahorse Cavalry as the delirious-fantasy metamorphosized in to diabolical reality.

"That's strange... that wasn't the reaction I was expecting. ..Hes up to something, unshackle him at once!" - He shouted eyeing the exits with a paranoid look only found on the face of tyrants and master villains.  In accordance with his wishes a bruised orphan approached and untethered my wrists before scurrying back in to the comparative safety of the shadows.
"Fetch our Guest some food ...Today's special is Escargot a la Escargot, give him an extra portion." He sneered.

I was then placed in a small westward-facing room. As I awaited my lunch and fate I contemplated the fortune that had befallen me and wondered if I would ever see the light of day again, of course the answer was staring me in the face - in the form of the window directly in front of me.
Behind the window I could see a small courtyard encircled by high walls which I presumed were dotted with snipers...  to my amazement an exit was visibly ajar.
My only alternative rout of escape was to await my captors return and attempt to persuade them it was a case of mistaken identity.

It wasn't long before I was enjoying the freedom that one can only find when running down a street pursued by a baying mob of nefarious orphans.
Climbing out of the window and down the Ill-placed tree was no problem for my nimble limbs. Clambering across the courtyard through the ajar gate and over the outer wall was tricky but none the less problem free.. Escaping the clutches of my Nemesis and his villainous assistants however was not so easy, especially in the broad daylight I had longed for not so long ago.
Thankfully I was barefoot so I eventually slipped away silently.

As I wandered through the High Streets, Low Streets, Back Streets and Front Streets I considered my predicament and how in such a short space of time things had come to be.
Measures were taken to disguise my identity and ensure I remained at liberty long enough to devise a plan - and counter plan if required..

Using my own finger and the paint from a newly painted shop window sign I drew a mustache upon my face. I then began turning my clothing inside out - it was then I spotted the discarded eye patch.
I gently lifted it from the head of the sleeping vagrant it had landed on and with the final addition of an improvised-but-convincing limp my disguise was complete.

The anonymity of my guise gave me plenty of time to think, occasionally I would be off put by the many strange stares I would receive but I put it down to the locals simply not used to seeing a pirate walk past them in the street that often.
It was sheer luck that I stumbled upon the dead rock pigeon and was able to wrestle it from the black tabby, but once I had secured it to my shoulder there would be no distinguishing me from any other lame-legged one-eyed Pirate that happen to be passing through the area on his way to an important business engagement.

Father was never keen on Pirates, after the incident.  Playing pirate was forbidden at home and no one ever explained why, or spoke about it.
...We buried that butler at sea, tulips grew there the following springs.

I continued on my destination-less journey searching for a convenient and plausible method to get out of the city without bringing unwanted attention to myself occasionally exclaiming "Avast ye scum" at expectant citizens as they cross my path.  Everything seemed to be going as well as they could.

The weather announced its presence in the form of the cold, hard, persistent rain that set about drowning my clothing and head in unwanted disguise-dissolving wetness.
Finally realising the implications of clouds and the weather I dashed for the safety of shelter.  The dash continued for several minutes before I realised there was none, and  then discovered that in the futile rush to find  some I had lost my parrot.  -  whom I had by then affectionately named Fester.
I looked to the skies for an answer, but all I could see were clouds and not even the brightest star was visible.
My fate seemed  to hang in the wind as I awaited an opportunity to present its self once more.
I waited for some time.

CHAPTER THE FORTH

__ --Third Time Unlucky-- __

Mother never really said much, not that there was much to say with all the Motherly duties and tending to the servants. - most of whom instinctively knew what to do at any given moment in time due to Fathers rigorous work regime. 

Father often spoke but none of his advice seemed relevant to the situation at hand. There was definitely no instruction on evading a deranged nemesis so I was left to my own ingenuity and indeed God's will.

By chance I found a flyer for a Traveling Circus (the Circé De Bradbury) which was a mere 50 minutes horse ride away on the outskirts of town, I set off Immediately and arrived some six hours later on foot.

It was exactly as I imagined a Traveling Circus would look with the exception of the mermaids and yet still slightly sinister looking. 
Despite the name it was completely stationary and thus safe to board so I ventured inside - it seemed vacant.  As I entered and the scent of overpriced popcorn filled the air and an unexpected memory sprung forth in to my mind. - I instantly recognised it as my own.

It was a few years earlier, whilst Father was at Sea, Mother had managed to prize me from the Wheel and convinced me that we needed to leave the house whilst the hull was being repainted so I left able-bodied Jeeves  in charge of the helm until we returned some five or so hours later.
Young Jeeves had never steered a house before but Mother had the foresight and water-tight British thinking to warn me a day in advance so he could be shown the ropes, once he was familiar with where they were kept we left him to it and hoped for the best. - As Father would say "Sometimes you must learn to swim on your own two feet." and it was with those words of wisdom I left him.
Mother assured me he knew to steer clear of the trees as we drove away.

When we arrived I was greeted by the most unusual sight my eyes had seen, two huge grey whale-like creatures balanced red balls on their trunk-like noses and the rose on their hind legs... I had never seen such a terrifying sight since mother introduced me to that unfortunate gentle soul Joseph Merrick.
I forget the name they gave to these circus beasts, but I have never seen their likes on dry land since.

As we entered the scent of popped corn entered my nostrils like an excited smell visiting a strange new place with its Mother. My eyes were filled with even more wonder-some sights ...Brightly coloured men with hideously long slender feet, Rooms filled with dozens of identical copies of myself and Mother, Performing Geese and most curious of all I discovered the Circus had its very own railway station - coincidentally perfectly suited for someone of my exact stature.
Mother seemed reluctant to join me in my quest to see where such a reduced-size transportation system could lead. As far as the eye could see it appeared to vanish inside a large building, but I managed to persuade her it was perfectly safe.  -  I was mistaken.


From the second our overflowing carriage began to move I realised something was terribly, terribly wrong...
At first I was worried about the maintenance standards of our carriage and the rails beneath us ...as we approached what appeared to be an interdenominational doorway made of painted black wood and rope I noticed the cobwebs on the track and our (driverless) onward-bound carriage.
These were however not normal webs, as mother was to explain, these were haunted webs.
At first I doubted such a thing could exist until suddenly and without provocation we were bombarded by spirits, sprites, demons and ghosts ...Mother held on tight for protection as I fended off our extoplasmic assailants with harsh Stern tones of warning.
"Be gone you foul creatures, you have no place here.. Back to hell with you" I cried, as Mother tried to assure herself by telling herself out loud "Don't worry son it will be over soon".
I knew what she meant, but I wasn't ready to give up the fight quite so soon.

...I rose up in my seat and pulled the family crucifix from my jacket pocket, closed my eyes and began the exorcism.
All around me I could hear a howling and gnashing of teeth as our carriage rattled and squeaked its way through the darkest depths of the underworld. Mother holding on to me tighter than ever continued to reassure herself.

When I finally opened my eyes we had miraculously returned to our point of departure and it was as if nothing had even happened.  The creatures and foul sounds had vanished and Mother and I were once more in the Circus surrounded by wide-eyed patrons and its cheerful yet hideously deformed inhabitants.
Mother made me promise not to tell Father about that day as I had clearly banished the undead back to hell so there was no need to cause alarm, I did as she wished and was rewarded with some sweet flossed candy from a stall.

I returned to the Wheel that evening with a whole new understanding of the nature of life and undeath , a golden fish in a jar and the knowledge of just how lucky we were to escape with our lives.

CHAPTER THE FITH

__ --Four Reasons To Join The Circus-- __

So once more I found myself in a Circus, as I hesitated to enter I hoped to God this Circus had not accidentally opened a gateway to hell.  

The plan was to disappear in to the reveling crowd whilst I establish a new disguise, possibly even find a scrap to eat and generally lay low. However I soon realised that the circus could in fact be my ticket out of town and far from the grasp of my evil Nemesis - whom I assumed had little or no interest in light entertainment or public events..

I spent some considerable time looking, as others did, at the intriguing creature with the long slender neck contemplating why such a long neck would be beneficial to a grass eaters.  Naturally such an implement would be perfect for grass that is far away but in my early youth such knowledge was not present so instead I assumed it had something to do with being able to look over walls or hiding behind trees.

I heard the seal before I seen it. At first I thought it was one of the house seals we kept back when Father was alive before the housewreck so rushed to embrace it.
It was however not the same seal. - I would venture to say many seals look alike but of course that would be sealism.

The seal met me with a look almost exactly like you would expect to encounter on the face of a man who has just been embraced by a seal without any kind of advanced formal introduction.

Finally realising my mistake I apologized for the misunderstanding, introduced myself and explained my situation.

She introduced herself as Sandy the Performing Seal, and then explained that she can only communicate via her agent Bernie the Trainer and that I should bugger off and bother someone else as Bernie was a busy man.

I did as Sandy requested and moved on, it was then I recognised the attire of the Circus Master.

He was quietly beating a contortionist back in to shape by the side of a tent marked Harry Randall The Amazing Bearded Gentleman. .

I gave him the impression that I had run away to join a Circus and I was interviewing prospective Circus' in the area with a view to join as an apprentice Clown, improvising various routines I had watched with Mother in the past.
This seemed to impress the Circus Master who admitted he was in desperate need of a replacement Clown due to an unlocked cage and pay dispute.  He was particularly keen that I join as they were due in another town the next morning and people were starting to ask questions about the Clowns.

I seized my opportunity as would anyone in my predicament and agreed immediately.

CHAPTER THE SIXTH

__ --The Five Clowns-- __

I had tried to put my encounter with Mr Pier Bonaparte behind me.
His name was known to me even though we had never met, his name proceeded him like a cough might proceed the pneumonia or an overbearing lunch might proceed an unholy smell at a christening..  
Father never spoke of him directly but I knew one day sooner or later I would have to deal with one of the Bonaparte family heirs for myself...
Were it not for the swift British thinking of my Grandfather the world would now be speaking French and we are all grateful for it, but since then the Bonaparte family had disappeared from the eye of even Her Majesty's most vigilant spies.  Father presumed they had all taken their lives in shame or taken up less evil pursuits such as crochet.. Everyone, including those that knew them agreed that they were probably dead and at most there would be one, and he would be too old for any serious mischief at any rate. ..all but Ken Obias, our Priest, who warned "There are always two, a student and a master". 
Father dismissed this stating that he was thinking about personal tuition and that the Bonaparte's had no interest in educational matters.

Father may have been incorrect their number to the value of one but I had to be sure.  I thought back and considered what I knew about the despicable family and tried to imagine what kind of fiendish plan was in store for the people of these green shores.
Clearly whatever he had planned was within the grasp of my imagination, after all my captor had sought me out and was clearly bent on ending my existence so that I posed no threat to his cryptic plans but what were they?  And how could I, a clown in training help foil them?

The answers come at me one by one, like a series of seemingly unexpected cream pies to the face.

CHAPTER THE SEVENTH

__ --SIX SIX SIX-- __

As the circus pulled up outside Buckingham palace I began to take note of the many fliers that adorned the less-civil streets we passed, they concerned a visit the Queen would be making and talked of a public address.  It was a few minutes before I realised where my Nemesis was intending to strike but it would take some considerable time more before I would put together the remaining pieces of his anarchistic master plan...

There was no reason to expect that my diabolical counterpart was planning on opening a doorway to hell using the very Circus my very own bottom was sitting on at that very moment ...but he was, and I was none the wiser. 

The knowledge of what was to come was to be temporarily out of reach in the future, so in temporal ignorance I carried on with my guise - trying my best to blend in to clown life and whatever it threw at me.
My predecessors shoes were hard to fill and I found the life of a performer more demanding than expected but I soon found my swimming legs and managed to fit in. - unlike a fish out of water.

The hours were long and relentless and the acts were humiliating, onlookers laughed as I was accidentally loaded in to a cannon and fired as far as my weight would allow with the exception of any poorly placed (soon to be dead) circus animal that might obstruct my otherwise safe landing..
But apart from the occasional mishap or fatality my act was flawless and my new identity as Albert The Uninsurable Performing Clown was established and as watertight as a newly mended circus tent tent in a thunder storm.



The Circus had installed its self in the grounds of Buckingham Palace (as was customary at the time) two days earlier and for all I knew my troubles were behind me, before me however stood a more pressing situation.
The situation pressed me as would the eyes of an escaped lion might press the eyes of a frantic clown - I was staring at an escaped (enraged) lion.
How it come loose I was unsure, all I was certain of was that the enraged beast was clearly outraged by its imposed living conditions and feeding arrangements and intended on settling one of those disputes with my cake covered self.
I would have made a hasty retreat had there been any refuge to be found, but alas on this occasion there was none.
In a moment of extreme panic I remembered what father told me about what to do if you ever find yourself face to face with a shark. ..I looked around but could see no shark, the thought seemed useless and then it hit me.  I instead pulled back my fist and thrust a punch at the face of the lion, who recoiled looking visibly upset.  -  The crowd cheered.

The lion slowly picked its self up from the floor as might any recently punched and thus dazed feline might.  Clearly things would improve from this point onwards in the negotiation I thought, misjudging the feline temperament entirely.
The roar it unleashed as it recoiled hardly registered amongst the roar of laughter that emanated from the crowd that encircled us. - The population of London either has a twisted sense of humour or they assumed it was all part of the act.

This laughter enraged the already furious creature even more, assuming that it was the object of the laughter. ..the laughter was of course directed at myself who had attempted to throw what appeared to be a bucket of water at my assailant.  Glitter never the less did the trick, blinding the creature just enough for me to dash behind it and to the safety of a carriage top, throwing in a sturdy kick to the exposed reproductive glands for good measure.

This tactical move bought me time but only served to cause matters worse as the slightly concussed, partially blinded, nether-pain ridden beast angrily caught its breath and began its second assault with more determination than ever.  -  In the corner of my eye I could see the clap of encouraging hands from within the shrouded enclosure of the Royal Box.

I felt like a hunted animal as the animal stared at me as it hunted me, ..like a human.  The animal within me longed for  the safety and security of a cage to lock myself away in until it was safe.

...Then I seen it.  The one thing that could save me, the one thing Lions above all other things fear.
The chair was just lying there in the center of the ring all the time, but panic had seized me and I never registered it.
I knew the lion would never leave the ring as it was surrounded by rows of laughing revelers, each armed with an individual seat and so to did the lion.  With a total disregard for my own safety I lept from on top of the box I stood and back into the performing ring and toward the wooden chair that would eventually save my life.

CHAPTER THE EIGHTH

__ --LUCKY SEVEN-- __

It was another one of those summers in the country....

A servant was helping me put on my clothes and armbands as I intended to go out for a stroll in the grounds. ...It was then I heard a car pull up outside.

Father was presumably at the wheel where he was needed and as I went to inquire I bumped in to Mother who had returned from where she had been - I did not mention the scurvy instead I asked about the car and its inhabitants.

From her confused body language and look I could tell she was as in the dark as me "I don't know, lets go see".

In order to do this we had to navigate the many hallways and rooms that lay in our path, thankfully I was already wearing my armbands and appropriate attire for answering doors.  The journey seemed like mere minutes but in reality may have taken considerably more. 

The Grandfather Clock Grandfather purchased on his visits to the Ottoman Empire struck repeatedly as we approached the door with hesitant anticipation at what might lay behind it.

On the seventh and final strike mother reached out the hand she was most comfortable opening doors with and took hold of the handle, with a single downward tug the latch released and she began the process of letting the outside in.

The door swung open precisely as it was designed to do.  With a solid oak creek it opened - outward.

.Such a dangerous task would be best left to servants but mother was the adventurous type and on that day father required all crew on the bridge.
Mother and I ventured out to meet the unannounced visitors.
As we left the watertight safety of the home and walked down the watery depths of the steps of uncertainty I took note of the unidentified vehicle and its crew.
It was black and they had a mysterious unfamiliarity about them the likes I had never seen before...
They were strange to me like civil manners might be to the French or humour might be to a German.
I knew them not but wildly I guessed "Are they here to take Father away on business?".
They were not. They had arrived for me.

The conversation that transpired between mother and the two men was heated and what little I overheard and understood shocked me to the very core.
The two men were on official business of sorts, they were spreading the word of some kind of good news, it involved the very real possibility of the world coming to an end at some point in the not so near future but luckily for us there was a get out clause.  There was talk of prophecy and chosen ones - I instantly knew they were talking about me and at some point I would be called upon to save the earth from an uncertain doom.
Mother hurried the men on telling them not to return and explained it was perfectly safe to remain outside and play as the men had the wrong address anyway.
As she walked back in to the house paddled out into the grass watching out for sharks and dolphins and mermaids.

CHAPTER THE NINTH

__ --The 8th-- __

The 8th of June I shall always remember that fateful day, after all it is not every day one is almost consumed by a rampant lion in front of an excitable crowd for a wage that would cause a vagrant to inspect the fine print of his contract of employment. The day even more so memorable due to the events that would quickly unfold as the evening progressed.

The potential catastrophe with the lion was averted once i seized upon the Lion's natural phobia of seating implements, allowing me to eventually drive it backwards off stage and in to the animal handlers and jugglers that awaited it.

Out and sight and therefor unknown to me in an adjacent tent a peculiar and eerie violet glow had began to emanate from one of the larger crystal balls.  The light had gone unnoticed by most that passed it - mistaking it for one of the many strange but perfectly safe artifacts that were on display throughout the Circus grounds.
However to the trained eye this glow would suggest some kind of gateway to the underworld was present, regrettably there were no trained eyes present in the Circus that day and so the strange glass ball with the even stranger glow was left to its own evil ends and the gateway began to open.
 -  This opening took several hours allowing for a quick change of costume and underwear on my part.

As the Strong Man finished proving just how good he was at lifting unnecessarily heavy object I reentered the arena accompanied by my fellow Clowns.  A quick change in the line up meant we had to fill a short gap where The Dancing Horse act should have been.

As Mungo The Strong Man (real name Martin) exited the stage I congratulated him on his performance, from the corner of my eye I was aware of a smile from the Royal Box.

It wouldn't be long till the Queens Address I thought to myself as my face was met with the creamy filling of the first of pie - many would follow.

Meanwhile the glow extended like one might expect a public transportation network to expand over time only in a more ghoulishly sinister sense. 

Outside the main tent where I was performing a thunderstorm was brewing - consisting of wind, water and a dash of thunder.  The wind began tugging at the tent which stood defiant, secured to the blessed English soil beneath - inside we were still completely ignorant of both the weather and mysterious glowing ball.

Our performance was spectacular, a show fit for a Queen one might say, and one would be correct in every sense for doing so for Her Majesty was indeed present and clearly enjoying the nights performance.- of which my role was significant.

Eight pies later our act was finished and it was once again time to depart the stage, and so that is what we did taking our props with us.

With the act finished I was free to attend to my other circus duties. This gave me time to think and make some vital observations...

No one knew what the Queen's address was about. A Queen need not explain, only do.

As I tended to a bereaved horse tamer something drifted in to my peripheral vision, it drifted like a lifeboat oar might drift from its original position or like an unusual odor might drift from an animal tamer's clothing... It was a strange glowing light, and it seemed to permeate everything.
At first nothing looked out of place and then there it was, as obvious as any transdimentional substance can be.
Extoplasmic discharge -  it was not a good sign, that I knew.  What I never knew was where it had come from or how to remedy the situation, those answers were to come in future chapters of my life.

. 

CHAPTER THE TENTH
__ --NINE-- __

It was nine o'clock exactly, in the far distance I would hear Big Ben sound nine times accordingly so there can be no doubt of the time.
There was only two hours left to save the world and some how I got the feeling that things had progressed to quickly.  The Circus was now glowing with unnatural unholy light and the Queen's address was imminent.  

I hurried out of the Circus in search of a priest or local witch to consult with, hindered slightly by my over sized footwear. 

 As I reentered I noticed the smell of popcorn had gone, replaced with the smell of fear.

All of a sudden I began to notice cobwebs...

"Cobwebs? ..Here? The place has only been standing two days?" I thought aloud.

Fear gripped me for a silent moment as the inevitable realization hit me that the Circus was now haunted.

I sprung in to action and rushed in the direction of Her Majesty and hoped for the best, which (considering the days events thus far) was optimistic.

[[to be continued]]

THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER

__ --Zero Hour-- __

.

All of a sudden it seemed quiet - apart from the obvious occasional round of applause or spontaneous cheer that would filter through the tent cloth of the adjacent structures.  Their cheerful inhabitants seeming oblivious to the on coming Armageddon on the horizon.
By now I was no stranger to unforeseen misfortune and knew not where to turn, but turn i did and it was then I saw it. - and it had a grudge to settle.  It was a few moments before we exchanged glances.
It was a long drawn out glance that lasted an eternity.
- I took the opportunity to make a detailed mental note of how so very much I wished things would be a little less awkward just this once, and hoped for the best.

... . ...

The stalls around me all appeared to be empty, presumably both patrons and vendors had been scared off by the arrival of an ill-tempered wilder beast with a large appetite... Evidently our previous encounter was as fresh in it's mind as it was in my own.
To my relief however it appeared he had recently eaten.   Like a common household kitten, albeit one with massive teeth and a mouth to house them, it proceeded to cough up a giant fur-ball consisting of clown wigs and donkey hides.  -  The sight was horrendous,

A moment later that look of unfinished business returned to the feline's razor-sharp features.
Not even a chair can save me now - I thought, reaching for the airgun left upon the counter to my left.
The movement angered the beast somewhat.
Something, possibly a childhood memory involving the persuasive powers of a gun, enraged the beast. Whatever the cause it let out an almighty roar, the kind of roar that tells a young boy it is not in an agreeable mood.
I froze and awaited a long overdue miracle...
After a silent second or three I abandoned the wait and sought safety in the form of a nearby candy stall.

With air rifle in hand, stepping on an overturned bottle crate for height, I slowly peered over the top of the counter.  Once more I found myself staring down the nostrils of the beast.
Fearing the worst possible outcome was about to unfold I recklessly took aim. By now the whites of its eyes were so close I could smell the sweat from its brow.
Finally seizing what appeared to me to be my last chance I squeezed the trigger...

It was at that precise moment I realized the mistake.
The beast was clearly as surprised as I was as a jet of compressed air blasted its face, clearing away any loose objects that had attached themselves to the fur over the course of the day.
Just then a loud cheer emanated from one of the performance tents, distracting the animal just long enough for me to disappear underneath the counter and make good my escape.

[[to be continued]]

THE TWELFTH CHAPTER

__ --One Dozen-- __

.

 
It was during one of those memorable summers in the country.
Mother had decided (against my better judgement) that we should spend the day in town, leaving father to supervise the erection of the new mast alone.

I forget the name of the place we visited, as it was located in the heart of town and I have never returned there since.

It was raining when we arrived and the freshly moistened air was awash with the smells of roasting chestnuts.  There was no sign of a burning tree and no vendor was to be seen.
The building, hand-fashioned from solid blocks of marble and granite, protruded from the street and towered above the surrounding buildings.
Each of it's massive two solid oak doors hung upon two equally solid brass hinges. - they were left open in an unmistakably inviting manner. 
I could see people drifting in and out of the pillared doorway with smiles on their faces or a looks of indifference.

I looked at mother expectantly.
Mother pointed toward the doors and indicated to me that we would soon be able to see for ourselves what resides on the other side.
I rushed ahead in search of the galley, assuming the building would have been constructed in the standard Naval manor. - it was not, far from it.

At first I started to fancy I had gone too far in my childish haste to explore, but there was no reason to suspect danger so I wandered on as aimlessly as before.
I paused for a moment by an Ostridge as I checked my compass, it was still not pointing North.
Putting it away I cursed Christmas crackers and then considered the ceiling -  like the walls they reflected the sheer extravagant size of the place.
I began to wonder why they had decided to put the ceiling so far away.
After a moment I started to feel vertigo taking hold, so decided to inspect the floor instead  - which in itself, apart from carpet, transpired to be pretty unimpressive.

It had everything one might expect from a floor. 
 It had the carpet, the floor tacks, the occasional piece of purple fuzz, - It had everything you want a floor, and best of all it was at a comfortable distance.
But by contrast the ceiling, with it's crystal chandeliers, and it's white plaster decor was far more impressive by anyone's standards. - As I recall, no one else seemed vaguely interested in the ground.

The building was clearly an impressive structure, if not in size then certainly in its decoration.
Rosewood cabinets were arranged in some rooms with a number of intriguing artifacts, acquired by the institute of something or other. And in others statues and busts of all description and size.

"I wonder who lives here." I though to myself as I turned a corner in to a red carpeted hallway, It had three windows on one side. It appeared to still be raining heavily outside, with a volcanic eruption I had somehow managed to miss upon entry a short time earlier.
I wondered if Mother knew.

I couldn't see Mother anywhere, and doubted the building (as formidable as it appeared) was volcano-proof.
Turning another fateful corner and in to another room I felt a sudden sinister atmosphere descend.
I took it upon myself to investigate.
It was then I saw him.

He stood out almost immediately.
Standing out like a man might be standing out in a field against a perpetual backdrop of green landscape on a warm summers day,  whilst remaining indoors at the same time.  -  A peculiarity I'm sure anyone would admit deserves further inspection.

I discretely reached in to my pocket and felt for my Naval Cadet's standard issue sleuth peripheral tool kit, which as luck would have it I happened to be carrying.
Startled by the sound of others passing through the room I let slip a magnifying glass from my hand, but swiftly caught it again before untold calamity ensued.

The man with a distinctively featureless face seemed not to notice or care.
With blurred eyes and what can only be described as a far away look . - About Six foot far away from the ground, and twelve length wise if one is to be exact.

I decided to investigate the smudge of a man more closely.
I approached with the caution. - Tiptoeing in heinsight may have been superfluous, and even drawn unwanted attention from passers by, but it got me there eventually. ..and silently.

At last, face to face, I could see the whites of his eyes as he stared on as vacantly and persistantly as before... seemingly unphased by myself peering at him from behind a copy of yesterday's The Daily Witchhunt.
I looked over his shoulders and through the doorway he blocked.
The door frame was carved from a large wooden plant, and appeared to be painted with golden flecks of solid copper.

A small crowd was starting to form near by.
I stepped down from my portable ladder and blended in.. Pointing my ear trumpet in their direction I began listening.
A woman spoke confidently but in tongues, she may have been gripped by a calm hysteria.
"15th century I believe, unknown artist."
 I put away the trumpet and returned my attention to the man.

The strange blurred man, as diligent as ever, continued staring outward from the doorway he was clearly guarding. - Something then struck me as odd about him.
I couldn't quite place what it was. For a moment I considered if it might be his unusual attire, and then if it might be his statue-like expression. - It was neither.
I compared him to to the group of individuals around me, the only discernible difference I could see is that they were all in focus.
Curiously though it was he who was the closest to me...
It was at that moment the chips began to fall in to place and I realized what should have been obvious to me from the start. ...The impression of a man was standing there guarding a doorway to another dimension! -  Nothing else would explain it.

'Surely a side effect of being closer to the portal before which he stands' I though privately.

"excuse me?" Replied the hysterical lady in a soothing voice.
"Do you mind, This is a private conversation!?" I responded, before inviting her to return to her own conversation about unknown fifteenth century arsonists.
As the group returned to their meaningless conversation it is stepped backward a few passes or so. Then, returning my gaze to the guardian, I saw with amazement that the blur of a man was now completely in focus..
A force beyond my understanding was clearly at work in that place.

"How can this be?" I thought to myself privately, noticing that even more strangely the garden was now out of focus.
"Sorry?" Interrupted the calm hysterical interrupting woman for the second time,
"Apology accepted. Now please would you kindly return to your own conversation ma'am, I'm trying to think." the lady obliged once more.

Erring on the side of caution I made good my escape and thanked the gods that I had not acted upon impulse and attempted to barge through the crowd, straight past the guardian, and in to the magical garden that lay beyond.

Some three rooms and two corridors away I found mother waiting by a model sailboat.  I conveyed my wishes to leave immediately and we made our way to the brass-hinged doors

It was raining outside.
The volcano had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Mother claimed she could explain but I assured her such things was beyond the understanding of the both of us,  She eventually agreed and we swiftly made our way back home to the safety of the house in the countryside,

THE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER

__ --A Stroke Of Unluck-- __

.
 tbc