The Pirates That Time Forgot

By J. A. Meldrum

Mr. Borrington builds a very special boat and takes his family on the holiday of a lifetime. There is a terrible storm however and the family are somehow transported back in time to 1850. They are kidnapped by fearsome pirates who want to kill them all. As time goes by the Borringtons are accepted by the pirates and accompany them on many adventures. They learn that a curse has been placed on the pirates by Conchetta, an evil sea creature. She has cursed them to remain in the year 1850 for all eternity and they cannot leave her territory. Mr. Borrington finally comes up with a plot to try and break Conchetta’s curse so they can all return to their rightful places in time. However, in this land of mad exploits and unusual creatures, nothing is certain. Will this normal family find the strength to be free or are they to be forever trapped in the year 1850?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jul 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781684704828

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MELDRUM

Copyright © 2019 J.A. Meldrum.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-1-6847-0481-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6847-0483-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6847-0482-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019907143

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 06/27/2019

For Lesley

PROLOGUE

Rupert Borrington gulped back a terrified sob. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, and his face was itchy from crying so much. His wrists were tied tightly behind his back, and his arms were starting to ache. He wiggled his feet to try to shake off the onset of pins and needles. Rupert had a horrible sensation in his tummy. It felt like someone had scooped out his insides, chopped them all up, and put them back in again. Silent tears dripped down the end of his nose; he tried to wipe his nose against his shoulder but only managed to reach his cheek.

He shut his eyes tight and tried to imagine he was back home in his bed, in his nice, safe house. This is just a bad, bad dream, he tried to convince himself. This isn’t really happening. Soon he would wake up and laugh at himself for being so petrified. He bit his lip as hard as he could, hoping the pain might wake him from this nightmare.

It didn’t! There was too much noise to persuade himself he was just having a bad dream—too much banging, swearing, and jubilant yelling.

He slowly opened one eye, squinted against the glaring sun, and looked over at his mother. Mrs Borrington was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, her large body trembling visibly. Rupert was not sure if she was trembling from fear or anger.

Bengi and Georgina were huddled behind her, trying to hide from all the mayhem. Rupert could hear Georgina crying noisily.

Mrs Borrington’s face was turning a nasty shade of purple. Her eyes bulging, she was snorting and making deep guttural noises in the back of her throat. Her feet pounded a protesting drumroll on the wooden deck. Rupert knew she would have been screaming blue murder if it weren’t for the gag in her mouth. Her eyes locked on his, shiny and red. Terror was written all over her face.

Rupert focused his attention on his father, who was slumped against the side of the ship. Rupert tried to make eye contact with him, but it was pointless. Mr Borrington’s eyes were glazed. There was a nasty cut above his left eye, which was all puffed up. A trickle of blood oozed slowly down his cheek. His glasses were askew; one lens was completely smashed. It was obvious the poor man was in shock.

Rupert felt wretched. His father, who was a very gentle man, abhorred any kind of violence. Pity flooded through him. He watched in horror as he slowly banged his head in frustration against the side of the ship, each bang louder and harder than the one before.

Despite the sun burning the back of his neck, Rupert felt a terrible chill spread through his body. He felt like he’d just swallowed a bucket of ice cubes. Goosebumps erupted all over his arms as more silent tears coursed down his cheeks.

CHAPTER 1

OFF WE GO

June 2004, 5.30 a.m.

The Borrington household was a hive of activity despite the early hour. Mrs Borrington was busy making breakfast. The smell of sizzling bacon was making her mouth water.

‘Mum, Mum,’ squealed Georgina, ‘the hamster has escaped!’

Mrs Borrington rolled her eyes in horror as she looked at the empty cage sitting atop a box of food. That was all she needed! ‘Well, you’d better find it pretty quickly,’ she replied sharply. ‘Your father will be back soon.’

No sooner had she spoken than the back door opened, and Mr Borrington walked in. She knew he had hired a transit van to take all their stuff down to the boat, but as she looked round the kitchen, Mrs Borrington had a sinking feeling they were not going to fit everything in.

‘Nearly ready, dear?’ Mr Borrington asked, a tone of desperation in his voice, as his eyes wandered between his wife and the chaos around her normally spotless kitchen. All the cupboards were open, and boxes covered every bit of space. She could see concern written all over his face.

‘We’re not going to fit everything in,’ he said, sighing and shaking his head.

Mr Borrington was a very nervous sort of man at the best of times. Today his wife could see that his nerves were stretched to breaking point.

He was a tall, gangly man with an extremely big forehead; his grey hair was thinning on top. His nose was long and beaklike, and his mouth was very small, totally disproportionate to the size of his nose. He had very bad eyesight and wore thick horn-rimmed glasses. Mrs Borrington suspected her husband was borderline anorexic; he was thin as a rake and never seemed to be hungry, and when he did eat, he merely picked at his food.

‘I want CJ. I want my hamster,’ Bengi screamed at the top of his voice. ‘I can’t find him anywhere.’

‘Well, maybe it’s just as well,’ muttered his father, running his fingers through his thin hair. ‘We probably won’t have enough space on the boat anyway. It’s better if we leave him behind.’

Bengi’s face crumpled. ‘No way,’ he screamed furiously, bursting into tears. ‘If CJ doesn’t go, I don’t go. I want my hamster!’

At only five years of age, Bengi Borrington was the youngest of the Borrington children and was a good-natured, slightly spoiled, chubby little boy. He was generally a happy little chappie, and his hamster meant everything to him.

Mrs Borrington lifted Bengi onto her knee and wiped away his tears. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart,’ she said soothingly as she munched heartily on a bacon roll. ‘We’ll find CJ. Don’t listen to silly Daddy.’ She gave her husband a withering look, warning him not to say another word.

Just then Rupert walked into the room, and all eyes zoomed in on him. ‘What?’ he exclaimed loudly.

‘I bet it was Rupert who let the hamster out. It’s just the sort of thing he would do,’ shrieked Georgina, pointing a finger at him.

Georgina Borrington was eight years old and had unfortunately inherited her father’s nervous disposition. Unlike her brother Rupert, she was a very self-conscious child, totally lacking in confidence. She was small for her age with long blonde hair, green eyes, and a small button nose covered in freckles.

‘I wasn’t even in the room, poop-head,’ Rupert said, making a face at his sister. ‘We’ll never find him. He’s probably hiding under the cupboards somewhere. We will find a little pile of bones when we get back,’ Rupert sniggered nastily. ‘Or he’s got outside and Tiddles next door has eaten him.’

‘Nooooooo,’ screeched Bengi as loudly as he could.

Mrs Borrington was talking to her husband, but he didn’t appear to be listening. ‘Archie, are you listening to me?’

‘Oh, yes, of course, dear. What did you say?’ he stammered.

‘I said, can you look in that box over there?’ Mrs Borrington pointed to the biggest box in the kitchen. ‘Bengi said he heard a scratching sound. Maybe CJ has crawled in there.’

‘You are joking, aren’t you? Tell me you’re joking,’ he said, biting his lip nervously, giving her an incredulous look. ‘You don’t really expect me to unpack everything, do you?’

Ten minutes later, the box was empty. Tins of baked beans, hot dogs, and spaghetti hoops were lined up on the floor. Packets of cornflakes, pasta, and milk powder lay beside them. There was tomato sauce, brown sauce, and salad sauce, but there was no sign of CJ.

‘Brilliant, just brilliant.’ Mr Borrington sighed dramatically, looking anxiously at his watch. ‘I had wanted to set sail by now.’

‘I see CJ,’ squealed Bengi, sliding off his mother’s lap. The hamster popped up from inside a giant stack of toilet paper. Bengi dived on him before he disappeared once more. CJ gave a squeak of indignation at being captured and was promptly thrust back into his cage.

Just then the phone rang. Rupert rushed to answer it. Mrs Borrington and Georgina were busy packing up the last of the boxes. Rupert kept on smirking at his sister as he spoke on the phone.

‘No, no, she doesn’t want to speak to you. You are such a geek. I don’t care! Oh, get lost … Yeah, well, I hate you too!’

Mrs Borrington felt uneasy; she didn’t like the way Rupert was gloating at his sister. Suddenly, the penny dropped. With a strangled cry, Georgina charged over to Rupert and tried to wrestle the phone out of his hand. ‘Give me the phone,’ she shrieked hysterically. ‘Mum, tell him it’s for me. It’s Victoria.’

Rupert had a devilish look on his face. He held the phone above his head, taunting his sister. Georgina kicked him on the shin. In retaliation, Rupert hit her over the head with the phone.

Mrs Borrington stomped over. ‘Give her the phone,’ she barked angrily, grabbing Rupert by the ear and frog-marching him into the kitchen.

Georgina picked the phone up from the floor and proceeded to tell her friend just how much she hated her brother.

Finally Mrs Borrington signalled to her that it was time to finish her phone call. It was obvious to everyone that Georgina was very upset.

‘G-g-goodbye, Victoria. I love you. Please don’t forget about me.’

With a final kiss goodbye, she put the phone down and promptly burst into tears. ‘I don’t want to go on your stupid boat. Do you hear me?’ she screamed in her mother’s face. ‘Leave me here. I’ll live at Victoria’s house. Just go without me.’

Mrs Borrington tried to put her arms around her daughter, but Georgina pushed her away. ‘I hate you. I hate you so much,’ she screamed as she ran upstairs to her room.

Mr Borrington came thundering out into the hall, a look of indignation on his face. ‘Now just a minute, young lady!’

‘Give her a few minutes to calm down, love,’ his wife told him, gently patting him on the arm. ‘Go and finish packing up.’

Mrs Borrington gave her daughter a few minutes to compose herself and then tapped gently on the bedroom door. Not getting any reply, she nudged the door open and peered into the room. Georgina was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, a totally despondent look on her face. Mrs Borrington sat down heavily at the end of the bed; she reached across and rubbed her daughter’s knee. ‘Are you feeling any better, pumpkin?’

She knew just how miserable Georgina was feeling; she had been best friends with Victoria since they had been at nursery school together. Georgina regularly slept over at her friend’s house. However, Victoria rarely slept at the Borrington residence because she couldn’t stand Rupert.

Georgina looked at her mother; her face was streaked with tears. ‘I don’t want to come on the boat, Mum. I’m serious. I hate Rupert. He’s always being mean to me, and you know it. Victoria said I can stay at her house. She said it just now.’

Mrs Borrington sighed deeply as she looked round her daughter’s bedroom. There were several posters of dolphins on the walls. Georgina loved dolphins. The duvet cover and curtains were pink with little dolphins on them. There was a little white desk with a dolphin lamp on it. The carpet was pale pink, apart from a big brown stain where Rupert had deliberately rubbed paint into it. Mrs Borrington had tried to scrub the paint out to no avail. She slowly inched her way up the bed towards her daughter. ‘Well, it’s true. You could stay at Victoria’s, poppet, or even with Gran and Gramps. We would all miss you, of course.’ She sighed loudly again. ‘It would mean you would miss seeing the dolphins, however.’

Georgina sat up in bed, an animated look on her face. Her hand automatically reached up to rub the small dolphin necklace she wore round her neck. Mrs Borrington had bought it for her last birthday. The girl loved it and never took it off. ‘You never said anything about seeing dolphins, Mum.’

Mrs Borrington knew she had just uttered the magic word, dolphins. She knew her daughter would never give up on this chance. ‘I was keeping it as a surprise, Georgina. Dad said we will be sailing to Malta and that there is a very good chance we might see dolphins swimming wild in the sea somewhere on the way. There is no guarantee, however.’ She watched as her daughter’s face fell again. ‘But you will definitely get to see them in Malta, as there is a marine park there. You can even swim with them. What do you think of that then?’

‘Dorothy!’ Mr Borrington bellowed from downstairs.

Mrs Borrington held her hand out to her daughter. ‘Let’s go, love. Dad’s getting all worked up. He’s going to have a heart attack if we don’t get a move on.’

Outside, Rupert and his dad had finally finished packing everything into the van. Bengi was sitting in the front, holding CJ’s cage tightly against his chest just in case his dad tried to leave the hamster behind.

‘Right, then, Rupert, hop in the back,’ said Mr Borrington cheerfully, finding it quite hard to believe that he had managed to cram everything in.

‘Eh, where exactly do you expect me to sit, Dad?’ he whined, looking at the tightly packed van.

‘Oh, just get in, Rupert,’ replied his father, getting agitated once more.

Rupert crawled into a small space between two boxes, complaining bitterly the whole time. ‘It’s not fair; it’s so uncomfortable in here. Why can’t Bengi sit here instead of me?’

‘Don’t blame me, Son.’ Mr Borrington sighed. ‘I’m not the one bringing all the extra stuff! I ask you, a hamster … a hamster on a boat! An extra first aid kit, an extra life jacket, or even an extra case of toilet paper, but a hamster!’

Mr Borrington muttered to himself about sawdust, hamster food, and spoilt children as he closed the van door.

Mrs Borrington locked the front door behind her and told Georgina to go into the van. She took the house keys to Mrs Wilson, who lived next door. The old woman had promised to keep an eye on things for them whilst they were away.

With a final look round her, Mrs Borrington squeezed her large frame into the van.

Mr Borrington smiled at her and started the engine. ‘Is everybody ready?’ he yelled cheerfully. Now that everyone was on board the van, all his earlier tension disappeared.

The family was in high spirits as they made their way towards the harbour, singing loudly all the way. The van slowly descended the hill towards the harbour.

‘I can see it!’ yelled Bengi excitedly. ‘I can see our boat!’

And there she was, the Daydreamer, bobbing gently up and down in the sea.

Mr Borrington had wanted to call the boat Dorothy or My Lady, but his wife was having none of it. She never liked to draw attention to herself and certainly didn’t want a boat named after her. He parked the van, and everyone poured out. There was a slight breeze, but the sun was warm.

‘It’s going to be a scorcher,’ Mrs Borrington panted, wiping perspiration from her upper lip.

‘Oh, look, there’s Gran and Gramps,’ squealed Bengi.

Mr Borrington felt all the summer warmth drain away from his body at the sound of his mother-in-law’s voice.

‘A demon omen,’ he grumbled to himself, watching as the small chubby woman waddled over to the family. He immediately felt guilty when he saw the tears gushing down her cheeks.

‘I know I said I wouldn’t come to see you off,’ sobbed Gran noisily, hugging the children, ‘but I couldn’t help myself.’

Gramps shuffled over. ‘Tried to keep her at home,’ he said gruffly, looking at his feet.

Mr Borrington could hear the emotion in the old man’s voice. His wife was their only child, and they idolised both her and her children.

Prior to their daughter being born, the main love in the lives of Gran and Gramps Cuthbertson, apart from each other, was food. This was a love which, unfortunately, their daughter had inherited. The Cuthbertsons had indulged their child in everything. Whenever their darling daughter had screamed for more chips or more chocolate, they happily gave it to her, the result being that Dorothy Borrington had been extremely overweight all her life. At the age of three, Dorothy had weighed the same as the average twelve-year-old, and at the age of ten she weighed more than her father!

Mrs Borrington walked over and embraced her mother.

‘Oh dear.’ Gran sniffed, wiping her eyes with a hankie. ‘I am being a silly old so-and-so, aren’t I?’

‘Just a bit,’ replied Rupert sarcastically, rolling his eyes to his sister. Georgina stifled a giggle.

‘I just don’t know how I’m going to get through the next four months without you all.’ The old woman wept, wringing her hands in despair.

‘Did you bring anything with you, Gran?’ asked Bengi.

‘Well,’ she said, regaining her composure, ‘I baked a couple of cakes last night.’

‘Oh, yummy.’ Georgina drooled. Gran made the best cakes in the world. Her cakes were legendary. ‘Did you make chocolate fudge cake, Gran?’

‘Chocolate fudge cake, chocolate orange cake, chocolate brownies, and chocolate chip cookies.’ The old woman beamed, her double chins wobbling with glee. She took the children over to her car to help unload all the goodies.

‘I thought you might get a bit peckish,’ she said, pulling out a huge picnic cooler, ‘so I made some sandwiches. And I cooked two chickens, a leg of lamb, three meat pies, and some baked potatoes.’

It had taken Mr Borrington almost an hour to unload everything from the van onto the boat with Rupert and Gramps’s help. Finally everyone was on board and ready to go. Gramps was going to drive the van back to the rental company once they left.

At last, Mr Borrington thought as he began to untie the rope holding the boat onto the quayside. Gran and Gramps stood watching them, silent in their grief.

Suddenly a car came screeching down the narrow road to the harbour. The driver was obviously in a rush and was tooting the horn furiously. The family stopped what they were doing to watch the car.

‘Daddy, wait. It’s Victoria and her mum,’ screamed Georgina excitedly. ‘Don’t go yet, please. Please wait.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ her father moaned, jumping back on the quay to tie the boat back up again. He was beginning to think that they would never leave.

The car squealed to a halt only a few inches from Gran and Gramps. Victoria jumped out and ran over to Georgina, who started crying all over again.

This in turn set Gran off once more.

Mr Borrington was beginning to get rather angry. He was staring at his daughter whilst drumming his fingers impatiently on the side of the boat. Eventually his patience ran out.

That’s enough. I’ve had enough! ‘Georgina Borrington, if you don’t come on the boat this instant,’ he yelled, going purple in the face, ‘then I swear we’ll leave without you!’

Georgina reluctantly did as she was told.

Archie Borrington had been orphaned at the age of two. His parents had been killed in a terrible car accident of which he was the sole survivor. Little Archie had no living relatives other than a cold-hearted grandmother who’d had no intention whatsoever of raising him. He was placed in care.

A skinny, sickly looking child, he was often ignored and forgotten about. Archie Borrington didn’t fit in with the other children. He wasn’t good at sports, and he couldn’t tell jokes. He was good at school though. He was always top of the class. The sad thing was that no one really cared. If he had been nurtured and encouraged, then the world could have been his oyster. His IQ was so high that it would have probably gone right off the scale. In simple terms, the man was a genius.

Mr Borrington had a habit of looking at the ground as he was walking. It was because of his tendency to walk with his eyes cast down that he’d met his wife. He was working as a maths teacher when he literally walked right into her.

One day just before lunch he had been shuffling along the corridor carrying a huge pile of test papers. Dorothy, the school librarian, had been walking towards him from the opposite direction. Mr Borrington often joked to his children that he had seen stars in his eyes the first time he met his wife, but he actually had. He had walked right into her, scattering his papers all over the floor. As they both bent down to pick them up, their heads had met with such force that he had felt quite faint and had to cling to the wall for support.

Archie and Dorothy shared lunch that day. Mr Borrington knew without words being spoken that he’d met his mate for life.

Exactly one month after bumping into her, Archie asked Dorothy to marry him. He shocked himself by getting down on one knee in the school canteen. Dorothy had been halfway through eating her second helping of apple crumble and custard when Archie proposed. It was probably the only time in her life that she didn’t leave a clean plate.

Six weeks later they were married. Dressed in traditional white, Dorothy looked like a huge wobbling tent. But in Archie Borrington’s eyes, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

One evening the happy couple were watching a film about a family sailing around the world. Mrs Borrington had been expecting Bengi at the time. Turning to face her husband, she’d sighed. ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to sail away without a care in the world?’

And that is how it all began: one simple statement that got Archie Borrington thinking.

Soon the dining room was filled with sheets of paper. Calculations were made and discarded. Costs were worked out. Drawings were made and measurements worked out. Charts were stuck all over the dining room walls. Finally decisions were taken, and a shape began to take form.

The children were banned from the dining room.

It was all Rupert’s fault! He’d sneaked in one day with his felt pens and drew his version of what a boat should look like all over his dad’s plans. Georgina toddled in after him and was sick on the latest calculations. Mrs Borrington tried to wipe the vomit off, but Archie still had to redo them. After that, a lock was put on the dining room door.

Mr Borrington only made one mistake in the construction of his boat, but it was an expensive mistake. He was halfway through building the shower room when he realised that his wife would never fit in it, and if she did, she’d never get out again. In the end he had to knock through the wall.

It took a lot longer to build the boat than planned. When Mr Borrington decided to build his boat, his brain had gone into overdrive. He didn’t want to build just any old boat. The actual boat itself was over fifty feet long. It was a sort of oval shape, but that could change depending on what Mr Borrington wanted it to do. If, for example, he wanted it to go really fast, then by pressing a few buttons he could pull in the sides and lengthen the front, making it into a speedboat. If the weather was bad and the sea was rough, then he could change the shape again so that it would become almost circular, a bit like a dinghy. There was also a built-in air cushion, which could be inflated in less than ten seconds. Attached to the bottom of the boat was a small submarine made entirely out of glass. This ensured that no matter where you were sitting, you were guaranteed a good view. He couldn’t wait to take his family down in it.

The Daydreamer was, in Mr Borrington’s mind, totally unsinkable. He was convinced that he had designed a boat that would keep his family safe and sound.

Georgina stood on the deck waving to Victoria until she was just a speck in the distance.

‘I can’t believe we’re actually off,’ said Mrs Borrington, wiping sea spray from her face.

‘Neither can I,’ moaned her husband, pursing his lips, a sour expression on his face. ‘We should have set off ages ago.’

Mr Borrington kept the engine at a steady pace, letting the children take turns at steering. The wind had whipped his sparse hair up, revealing the bald spot he tried so hard to conceal. ‘Right then, kids,’ he said, cutting the engine a couple of hours later, ‘watch this.’

The children watched as he pressed a couple of buttons and pulled a blue lever. Suddenly they heard a whirring noise. In the middle of the deck a small opening appeared, and a large pole started pushing its way upwards.

‘What on earth is that?’ squealed Bengi.

‘That, my lad, is the mast,’ replied his father proudly.

‘What do we need that for, Dad?’

‘It’s for the sail, stupid,’ sneered Rupert sarcastically. ‘You know, it’s a big white thing that the wind blows.’

The children watched as the mast went up and up.

‘But where’s the sail, Dad?’ asked Bengi.

His father smiled secretly. ‘Press the button at the bottom of the mast. The red one, mind, not the blue one.’

Bengi pressed the red button and watched in amazement as the mast twirled round and round, releasing a huge white sail. ‘Wow, we’re a proper sailing ship now, a proper sailing ship like the pirates, aren’t we, Dad?’ Bengi beamed.

Rupert had to butt his nose in as usual. ‘There are no more pirates any more, fathead.’

Mr Borrington turned to look at Rupert. ‘That’s not strictly true, Son. There are still pirates in the world, but not the type Bengi is talking about. And we certainly won’t see any in the Mediterranean.’

Mrs Borrington brought up a huge tray laden with the goodies that Gran had given them. She pulled out a small table and set the tray down.

‘Would you like a cup of tea, Archie, love?’ she called out.

The children were starving by this time and eagerly dived in to Gran’s food.

‘Mm, lovely chocolate cake.’ Georgina drooled. ‘Yum, yum.’

Mrs Borrington took a cup of tea and a sandwich over to her husband, who was busy studying a map. Sitting down beside her children, she quickly tucked in. After devouring half a chicken, five sandwiches, and four slices of chocolate cake, washed down with several cups of tea, she lay back in her chair and stretched her arms out. ‘That’s better. I feel more human again,’ she groaned. ‘I was starving.’

‘Would you like a piece of cake, Archie?’ she shouted, her hands wavering over the cake, wondering if she could manage another slice.

‘No. I’m fine, dear,’ he replied, seemingly engrossed in what he was doing. Her hands hovered over the cake for a moment or two longer.

Rupert had his eyes on her. ‘You’ve had more than enough cake, Mum,’ he said in a voice dripping in disdain.

Mrs Borrington went into the cabin to get her husband’s mug. He’d hardly touched his sandwich. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’ she asked, picking up the sandwich and taking a big bite out of it.

‘I’m OK for now,’ he replied with a smile. He’d removed his T-shirt, and his wife patted him affectionately on the stomach. He was so skinny that you could quite literally count his ribs.

‘You need to eat more, dear,’ she replied, stuffing the rest of the sandwich in her mouth. ‘You can’t live on sea air alone.’

‘I don’t know why I can’t have my own room,’ grumbled Georgina. It’s not fair that Rupert gets his own room. It should be me that gets a room to myself.’

Rupert shot her a dirty look. ‘You have your own room at home, and I don’t, so it’s my turn to get one. Also I’m the eldest. So tough, Georgie. Tough.’

Mrs Borrington walked over and put her arm round her daughter. ‘You’ll be fine, Georgina. Stop making a fuss.’

‘But my room is tiny, and Bengi picks his nose and makes booger balls. Yuck. It’s gross. I’m going to wake up in the morning with green missiles all over my face,’ she replied, making a face at Bengi.

After a quick shower and finishing the rest of Gran’s chicken for supper, the children settled down for the night. The gentle rocking motion of the boat had a soothing effect on them, and they quickly fell asleep. It had been an exhausting day for all of them.

Mr Borrington pulled in the sail and let down the anchor. The sea was calm, and the weather forecast was good.

He lay back in his chair with his wife by his side, a healthy glow on his face. She had opened a bottle of his favourite red wine. They clinked glasses and made a toast. ‘Here’s to a wonderful trip,’ he said softly. He draped his arm across his wife’s meaty shoulder and looked up at the stars. ‘It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?’ He sighed blissfully.

‘It’s so quiet, so peaceful,’ his wife replied. ‘It’s as if we’ve got the world to ourselves.’

Mr Borrington gazed out at the reflection of the moon on the still water below. ‘It’s like heaven on earth, love.’

The children were wide-awake by six o’clock the next morning. It was a bit chilly, but the sky was already blue with the promise of another beautiful day to come. Mrs Borrington was sick and tired of hearing her children complain that they were bored.

‘When are we going to swim?’ Georgina grumbled. ‘I’m fed up on this stupid boat. I told you I would hate it. I wish I’d stayed at home.’

Her father told her that he was heading towards the Channel Islands and said that when they got there, she could swim. He was going to anchor the boat there for a couple of days before beginning the long journey to more exotic places.

After a breakfast of sausage and eggs, the children got into their swimming costumes. Bengi got out his bucket and spade, both he and Georgina wearing their life jackets. They waited impatiently as the Daydreamer headed towards a little island. A few hours later, they entered a large sandy bay.

Mrs Borrington watched as her husband carefully lowered the dinghy into the sea. Georgina and Bengi climbed eagerly down the ladder, happy at the prospect of going to the beach. Mrs Borrington wasn’t happy about going on the dinghy; she was feeling somewhat anxious. She didn’t feel confident enough to wear shorts and was wearing one of her tentlike dresses. She gently lowered herself down the ladder towards the dinghy. Unfortunately for her, a sudden gust of wind caused her dress to blow up around her waist, revealing her backside. In her haste to pull it back down, she lost hold of the ladder and fell, shrieking like a banshee, into the sea.

The force of her large body plunging into the water sent a big wave into the dinghy, soaking both Georgina and Bengi. It rocked precariously, threatening to overturn them both. Mrs Borrington was spluttering and thrashing about in the water, the current pulling her away from the boat.

‘Don’t worry, dear, I’m coming,’ yelled Mr Borrington, pulling his T-shirt up over his head. Holding his nose, he jumped into the sea and swam over to help his wife.

Mrs Borrington was in a state of shock. She had never been a strong swimmer, and the water was very cold.

‘Relax, I’m coming,’ spluttered her husband as he doggy-paddled his way over as fast as he could.

She wrapped her arms around his skinny shoulders. ‘Oh, Archie, Archie. It’s so cold,’ she gasped, her eyes wide with fear. She had swallowed a lot of water and was terrified she was going to drown.

She was totally unaware that the weight of her body was pushing her husband under water. ‘Let go. Let go of me,’ he pleaded. But as soon as he surfaced and tried to gulp in some air, she pushed him under again.

‘Mum,’ screamed Georgina, ‘you’re drowning Dad. Let him go.’

Rupert swam over and tried to pull his mother towards the dinghy, but she was clinging to her husband like a leech. ‘Throw me your float, Bengi,’ he yelled frantically.

Bengi threw the float; Rupert grabbed it and thrust it at his mother. She clutched onto it and let go of her poor drowning husband.

Mr Borrington took several deep gulps of air before he spoke. ‘Thanks, Son.’

He turned to glare at his wife. ‘For goodness’ sake, Dorothy, you nearly drowned me. What on earth were you thinking? You know how to swim.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m s-s-s-so, so sorry,’ sobbed the poor woman over and over again. Mrs Borrington swam miserably over to the dinghy, clinging on tightly to Bengi’s float. She tried to heave her big shivering body up into it. The children screamed in terror as the dinghy tilted with the weight. She was embarrassed and exhausted. She attempted to lift one of her massive, goose-pimpled legs over the side instead, but it was impossible.

‘Why don’t you go back to the boat, Mum?’ said Rupert in a voice dripping with disdain.

‘Yes, that’s what I’ll do,’ she said quietly, seeing the look on her son’s face. ‘I’ll go back to the boat and have a nice hot shower. And maybe I’ll join you all later on.’

Mr Borrington sat shivering in the dinghy. ‘Poor Mum,’ he said to his children a few minutes later, ‘she got such a fright.’

‘It’s her own stupid fault,’ spat Georgina nastily. ‘You know she eats far too much. No wonder she couldn’t get into the dinghy.’

‘Georgina Borrington,’ shouted her father angrily, giving her a filthy look. ‘Don’t you ever let me hear you talk like that again. And what’s more, don’t let your mother hear you. It would break her heart.’

He started the small engine and headed in towards the beach.

Meanwhile, back on the boat, Mrs Borrington was sitting in the sun, wrapped up in her thick fluffy dressing gown. She had just finished her second packet of chocolate digestives and was on her third cup of tea. She had seen the look of disgust on Rupert’s face, and it had hurt her more than words could say. Two fat tears of self-pity rolled down her cheeks and plopped into her tea. She knew it was time for her to lose weight. The problem was, she just adored eating. Whenever she was a bit down in the dumps and needed cheering up, she reached for food.

The next morning after breakfast, Mr Borrington asked the family if they wanted to spend the day on the island. ‘We could go for a walk, do a spot of sightseeing,’ he suggested. ‘Maybe we’ll find a nice restaurant for lunch. Give Mum a break from cooking, eh?’

His wife, not surprisingly, wasn’t that keen on trying to get into the dinghy after her last experience. She would have felt happier if she had a life jacket, but try as he might, Mr Borrington had never managed to find a life jacket big enough to fit her. He had sent off for the biggest jacket he could find on the Internet—an XXXL—but it had been nowhere near big enough!

‘Just don’t wear a dress this time, and you’ll be OK,’ Rupert said sourly.

This time Mr Borrington went into the dinghy first, followed by his children. Today Mrs Borrington was wearing leggings and a T-shirt. She went down very, very slowly, taking no chances. Her husband held out his hand to her as she carefully stepped in, but as soon as she got in the dinghy, it veered dangerously over to one side with the weight.

‘Quick, Rupert,’ he screamed, trying to avoid another disaster, ‘move everyone to the other side.’ But even with the entire family sitting on the other side of the dinghy, Mrs Borrington’s side still sat lower in the water.

After a long walk around the island, the Borringtons found a cafe and had a delicious meal of fish and chips. They soon found out that they were the talk of the small island. People kept coming up to them and asking questions about their most unusual boat.

Mr Borrington got talking to an old fisherman about the ways of the sea. The man had been a sailor for many years and had never come across a boat anything like theirs before. Mr Borrington offered to give him a tour of the Daydreamer the next day. The old man, Bob, offered to take the family fishing with him after he’d seen their boat. Bob owned a small shop selling fishing tackle.

Once the family finished lunch, they went to his shop and bought two fishing rods, a net, and a box of fat maggots to use as bait.

Back on board later that day, Rupert was busy examining the maggots. He looked across at Georgina and Bengi, who were busy drawing pictures. He was in one of his annoying moods and felt the need to bug someone. The problem was, whom to pick on, Georgina or Bengi? After a few seconds of contemplating, he decided Georgina was the best bet.

Picking up the fattest maggot he could find, he walked over to the table where they were sitting. ‘Open wide,’ he said, smiling nastily as he dangled the maggot in his sister’s face. Georgina took one