Mischief at Sea

By Eoin Glynn

This story is about two siblings, Daniel and Holly Nugent, who are taken on a family holiday aboard a Cruise ship. They soon discover that two bullies from Daniels school, Arty The Artichoke Nevin and his beefy brother Billy Nostrils, are also onboard. They then discover a further group of boys on the ship known as the South Side Locos who make Arty and Billy appear tame by comparison, and conspire to set the two groups against each other, thus distracting the bullies from harming them. The Nevin brothers finally become allied with Daniel and Holly to defeat the South Side Locos.

This is an adventure story for children aged 8 12 years that addresses the issue of bullying and how to deal with it. The children discover that teamwork, courage, and the need to befriend the enemy can often work wonders.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 9, 2009
• ISBN: 9781467898461

Eoin Glynn

Eoin Glynn lives in Blackrock in County Dublin where he works as a legal executive.  The inspiration for writing this story came from two related experiences from his childhood.  With his father’s career and passion for long-haul travel, Eoin was brought around the globe time and time again.  He also encountered schoolyard bullying as a child until he learnt how to deal with it, as evident in the storyline for this book.

Book preview

AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

500 Avebury Boulevard

Central Milton Keynes, MK9 2BE

www.authorhouse.co.uk

Phone: [phone]

© 2009 Eoin Glynn. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 4/2/2009

ISBN: 978-1-4389-4919-2 (sc)

ISBN: 9781-4678-9846-1 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

Acknowledgements

- Chapter One -

- Chapter Two -

- Chapter Three -

- Chapter Four -

- Chapter Five -

- Chapter Six -

- Chapter Seven -

- Chapter Eight -

- Chapter Nine -

- Chapter Ten -

- Chapter Eleven -

- Chapter Twelve -

- Chapter Thirteen -

- Chapter Fourteen -

About The Author

This is for Erica, who keeps things together around here

Acknowledgements

This book was great fun to write but would never have gone into print without the support of so many people. And so, in no particular order, I must thank…

My agent Darin Jewell, for getting behind this and having faith in my work.

Shaun Ebelthite, for recommending this book over so many others.

John Doran, for providing a room and a great sense of humour.

Artful Doodlers, for creating the beautiful cover illustration.

Alan Healy, for taking the time to share a wealth of experience.

Kevin Egan, for understanding the image, being inspired, and taking it to the web.

My parents, John and Jacinta, for giving me a childhood filled with adventure and play; and Daragh and Emma for sharing it with me.

Carla and Mario, for my Italian connection.

And DaVinci, the dog we call Monkey, for snoozing on the mat beside me as I write.

 - Chapter One -

MORNING POST

The gate groaned as the postman entered the daffodil-filled garden. A grey terrier opened his small eyes and sprung from his warm bed, tearing down the length of the hallway towards the front door.

This was the routine every morning. The postman and the terrier were the Nugent family’s unofficial alarm clock. The postman played his part by gingerly placing his hands into the letterbox to drop in the day’s post, and the dog played his part by jumping up at the door, grabbing the day’s post in his teeth and growling ferociously. When the postman moved on to the next house, the dog stood by the door, post in his mouth, waiting for the next step in the morning routine.

‘Stop whining, Monkey!’ shouted Michael Nugent, looping his dressing-gown cord as he stepped on to the landing.

Monkey, the three-year-old terrier, dropped the post from his mouth and galloped up the stairs towards the sound of the man’s voice, leaving the post in a semi-mangled pile on the floor.

Monkey never retrieved post. He never retrieved sticks, balls, Frisbees, newspapers or anything else. He just didn’t do fetch. He made it perfectly clear by his body language that he was above such things. He was a pedigree dog, for heaven’s sake!

Once Monkey had done the rounds of the bedrooms and licked every face in the house, the family congregated in the kitchen for a quick breakfast. Michael always sat at one end of the table, his wife Lucy sat at the opposite end, and then their son Daniel and daughter Holly would be left to fight over the remaining two chairs – one of which was no doubt occupied by Monkey.

The Nugents lived by the sea in an old house in Dublin. Daniel was ten years old, Holly was eleven, and they both went to school locally. Their family was a happy family, most of the time. Both parents were prone to working too hard and Daniel was prone to not working very hard at all. Apart from that, life was good. And today, it was about to get even better.

Lucy Nugent padded down the hallway to the front door. She bent down and picked up three incisor-punctured envelopes - two bills and something else.

‘Michael?’ she shouted, studying the strange envelope in her hand.

‘Yes?’ he replied from the kitchen.

‘Were you expecting something from Montgomery Cruises?’

Michael didn’t answer. He was too busy running out of the kitchen. As soon as he saw the envelope, he whipped it straight from his wife’s hand.

‘What is it?’ Lucy asked, a delighted curiosity in her voice.

Michael thumbed open the envelope and smiled at the schedule before him.

‘We’re going on a cruise,’ he declared.

Lucy screamed and threw her arms around him, causing Daniel, Holly and Monkey to run into the hallway.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Holly.

‘We’re going on a cruise,’ announced Lucy, her arms still wrapped tightly around her husband.

‘It was supposed to be a secret,’ admitted Michael, removing Lucy’s arms from his shoulders. ‘These tickets should have been sent to work. I intended to take you all out for a meal this weekend and surprise you then.’

‘Couldn’t we still go out for the meal?’ suggested Holly.

Lucy’s eyes widened.

‘Holly!’

‘Of course we can,’ said Michael, smiling at his wife.

‘Where are we going on the cruise?’ asked Daniel, stepping over Monkey and his wagging tail.

‘The Caribbean.’

Everyone screamed. Monkey didn’t know what was going on, so he joined in and howled like a mini wolf.

When everyone had settled down, and Michael had alerted them to how late it was, they all suddenly panicked and ran around like headless chickens, with Monkey as the commander in chief, running through the house with a stolen sock in his mouth.

Eventually, Michael got into his car, Daniel and Holly got into their mother’s, and Monkey settled into his bed with a chew toy. They were all ready for school, work and a serious gum workout.

Lucy dropped the children to school on her way to work. She worked in a small studio in a village called Dalkey. She had arranged her job to allow her to work flexible hours. Sometimes she would work two or three mornings a week, sometimes for a few full days in a row, and sometimes she would bring her work home. It all depended on what was going on with her work, her husband’s work and the children’s school holidays.

V00_9781438949192_TEXT.pdf

Daniel sat down at his desk beside Benjamin. He had known Benjamin, or Ben as he was known to his friends, since they were in kindergarten. They had an awful lot in common. Too much, they often thought. They were both the same height. They both had dark wavy hair. They were both skinnymalinks. They both loved comics. And they both feared the Nevin brothers.

As if on cue, Arty Nevin, or ‘The Artichoke’, as he liked to be called, strolled into the classroom like a confident man of thirty years of age, even though he was only ten. His confidence was based purely on the fact that he towered over his classmates, had never lost a fight in his life and had hands like shovels. He feared no one.

Billy Nevin was Arty’s equally huge twin brother. Billy also had a nickname. He liked to be called Billy ‘Nostrils’ Nevin. He used this name because he claimed to have been raised by the Sicilian Mafia. In reality, he once saw the Godfather movie. Billy was older than Arty by seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds, but due to his less-than-marvellous brain development, he behaved as if he were two years younger.

The Nevin brothers loved two things in life: Rugby and demanding taxes. They played Rugby in a club at the weekends, and they collected taxes at school during the week.

Arty grunted as he walked passed Daniel and Benjamin. Daniel smiled back awkwardly, while Benjamin pretended to have lost something under his desk.

‘Comics,’ grunted Billy, towering ominously over the boys.

Daniel lifted his eyes, as though he were looking up at a skyscraper.

‘I don’t have any,’ he squeaked, feeling a tightening of his throat.

Billy looked at Benjamin rooting under his desk.

‘Ben, comics,’ he grunted.

Benjamin jolted, banging his head on the desk above him.

‘I don’t have any,’ he groaned, coming out from under the desk with a hand over his head.

‘You have until break time to get me two comics,’ he warned, before walking off to his desk like some sort of dinosaur with a full nappy.

Helen Winkelmann opened the door to the classroom and stepped into the room. She had a pile of papers under one arm.

‘Good morning, class!’ she announced, peering over the top of her small, ultra-modern glasses.

‘Good morning, miss,’ grumbled the pupils.

‘Take out your homework, please.’

The children pulled out their maths books and prepared to hand up their papers.

Miss Winkelmann stood over Arty Nevin with a pile of homework in her hands.

‘And where’s yours?’ she asked, awaiting the inevitable excuse.

‘Eh…I left it on the bus,’ he answered.

‘But I saw you cycle in this morning.’

‘Oh, I mean…yesterday.’

Miss Winkelmann sighed.

‘What do you mean, yesterday?’ she said.

‘I left it on the bus yesterday, after school.’

‘You mean, you’d done your homework before you got home?’

Arty heard giggles around the classroom.

‘No, I was doing it on the bus.’

Miss Winkelmann shook her head.

‘I don’t believe you. You are the least likely person to do your homework on the bus after school, apart from your brother.’

Miss Winkelmann turned her attention to Billy.

‘And where’s yours?’ she wondered.

Billy’s nervous habit kicked in and he began licking his lips. He looked like a reptile.

‘It fell off the back of my bike,’ he replied.

‘How did it fall off the back of your bike?’

‘Eh…I hadn’t closed the top of my bag properly.’

Miss Winkelmann looked on the floor around Billy.

‘And where’s your bag now?’

Billy’s face suddenly turned beetroot red. Now he realised what had been amiss when he left the house that morning; it was his school bag.

‘I don’t know,’ he mumbled.

Miss Winkelmann knew very well that the Nevins hadn’t done their homework. They rarely did. She considered herself lucky to receive homework from them once every other week. And even then, it was a pathetic attempt. However, she had grown accustomed to listening to the ridiculous stories the brothers came up with.

‘How can you not know where your bag is?’ she went on.

Billy knew he was digging a hole for himself.

‘It might have fallen off after the homework,’ he said, hearing giggles around him.

‘In some sort of rescue attempt, perhaps?’

The room burst out laughing. Billy’s tongue flicked in and out of his mouth.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Because Arty was trying to throw a stick into the spokes of my back wheel.’

Arty elbowed his brother, his face fierce. Miss Winkelmann shook her head and walked back to the top of the class.

‘I don’t know what you two must be like at home, but I want you to bring in that homework…along with all the other homework you owe me.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Arty muttered under his breath.

‘As if,’ chuckled Billy.

‘I heard that,’ said Miss Winkelmann sternly.

V00_9781438949192_TEXT.pdf

When the eleven o’clock break came around, all the students poured out of the classrooms and into the hallway, except for Daniel and Benjamin, who had been held back by Billy and Arty.

‘It’s time,’ grunted Billy, a hand fixed firmly around the back of Daniel’s stick neck. ‘Two comics, or I break your neck.’

Daniel didn’t doubt this statement. He’d seen the brute’s hands crush tin cans as though they were soggy toilet rolls.

‘The thing is, Billy,’ he began, until he felt the hand tighten.

‘Nostrils,’ growled Billy.

‘Billy Nostrils,’ said Daniel, correcting himself. ‘I don’t have any comics.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ explained Arty, a firm grip on Benjamin’s hair. ‘We like to think we’re flexible. We accept many forms of tax.’

‘Yeah,’ agreed Billy. ‘Sweets, money, marbles, DVDs, comics, conkers…we’re flexible.’

‘I have an old conker in my bag,’ declared Benjamin, flicking his eyes at the item on the floor.

‘That’ll do for now,’ grunted Arty. ‘Consider it interest…and an example of our flexibility. But tomorrow morning, we won’t be so flexible. We’ll want four comics.’

‘Yeah,’ agreed Billy.

‘What if we can’t get you four comics by tomorrow?’ asked Daniel, trying to find a way out of this situation.

‘If you can’t get four by tomorrow,’ answered Arty, thinking aloud, ‘then…we’ll want two extra the next day.’

‘Yeah,’ said Billy. ‘And two more the day after that.’

‘Exactly,’ smiled Arty, ‘the interest is two extra a day.’

‘And two more the day after that,’ Billy continued, enjoying the thought of interest so much he couldn’t stop himself.

‘They got it,’ snapped Arty, thumping his brother like a punch-bag.

Benjamin had a loose understanding of the concept of interest, but when dealing with the Nevin brothers, it was important to be clear on all of the minor details.

‘Do we start today or tomorrow?’ he wondered.

‘Today,’ said Arty.

Daniel had a bad feeling and no idea how he was going to get out of this. All he knew for certain was that the more time he had to come up with a plan, the greater his chances were of surviving beyond the end of term. He decided to ask a few more questions.

‘Are the weekends included?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

Daniel decided to play with the brothers’ limited mathematical abilities.

‘So, how many will we owe you by this day next week?’ he went on.

Arty glanced briefly at Billy. The glance was meant to have conveyed a warning, but Billy misunderstood.

‘Eh,’ he said, thinking hard. ‘Five.’

‘Five?’ said Benjamin.

Arty growled and elbowed Billy.

‘It’s not five, you thick.’

Daniel and Benjamin sniggered. And then felt Arty’s hand clip them, one after the other, on the side of their heads.

‘So how many is it, Arty?’ asked Benjamin, rubbing his