Lineage

Percy Littleton thus made his fortune. I lay there feeling the water roll beneath me, my eyes shut tight because even thinking of Percy made my insides boil with rage. All I could think about was his wealth, my father's untimely death, and again back to his pails of money. It was how I was found, fists clenched, eyes shut, book over face, knobbly knees sticking out, revenge on my mind.

"Hello there Missy" bellowed a round sailor with a gray uniform holding on to the side of an enormous black ocean liner via ladder. Shocked that I almost didn't notice this rescue attempt, I quickly pulled my wits about me. Cleverly, I responded with "hello sir."

"You seem to be in need of some assistance. I am Bill. Come aboard!"

With that I took his extended hand and was pushed up the ladder and hoisted over the side, with several others there to greet me. Realising that we were probably 30 minutes ride away from shore on a ship like this, and that any details I gave would land me in trouble, I played the traumatised docile mute.

Drinking hot chocolate with a splash of brandy and wrapped in blankets (not that I was wet, but rather it seemed to comfort the others) I sat on the deck plotting my next moves.

Monkey puzzle trees

Smoke loomed in the distance, its origins still undetermined. I lay napping across the floorboards of the dingy, eyes shaded by the one book I'd managed to save, "The Gardens of South West England", by Percy Littleton, Esq. He was the man I was looking for. No ordinary botanist, this gentleman was gardener to the stars and the Royal Court. Known for his ability to coax tropical plants to grow in the British climate, Percy was the first to import the monkey puzzle tree. These wiry trees with felt tips ends line suburban Britain, and frighten children on winter afternoons with their demented shadows.

Araucaria araucana is native to Chile and Argentina. The story goes that one day, over a bottle of wine in a gentleman's house in the countryside, a dare emerged as the outcome of a heated conversation. It seems that Nigel Jennings challenged his host, a one Mr. Shelby Hadley. Now, Mr. Hadley enjoyed a good bit of fun, and betting was one his favourite indulgences. He was also reknown in his circle for being the jolliest and silliest of drunks. This particular evening was no exception.

Nigel Jennings, part fox, waited for Mr. Hadley's top hat to slide. It was at a precarious angle, to the point that one had the urge to go up to him and adjust it. His mustache and beard were littered with biscuits, and the remnants of champagne decorated his cravat. Nigel knew the moment was upon him, and used his silver tongue to convince Hadley to dare him to find the most unusual tree he had ever seen. Now of course, so legend has it, Nigel's motive was to find someone to finance his experiment of bringing over the monkey puzzle tree and testing it out in his own section of Kew Gardens. The next day, Mr. Hadley sent Mr. Jennings away with a bankers draft to fund this latest endeavor.

However, Nigel Jennings was also a man with little self control and an eccentric and unhealthy appetite for gypsy prostitutes. He did manage to technically deliver the first monkey puzzle tree to the soil of Britain. However, he died his first night back, only hours after his ship, "The Up Yours I" arrived in port at Southampton. Having offended the proprietor of The Thieves' Den, an established watering hole for those with exaggerated reputations, he found himself the centre of a good old-fashioned brawl. A broken bit of green bottle was lodged into his ribs, puncturing a lung, and drowning him.

Nigel had seen a lot of men pass before him, and he knew with clarity that his time would be up within an hour. Rather than fight this unfortunate twist of fate, Nigel did the sensible thing. He wrote a note and tied it around the base of the tree, requesting that it be delivered to a Mr. Percy Littleton, Esq. care of Kew Gardens. Then, he settled in with his favourite resident, Big Maud, and exited this world with a smile on his face.

Percy Littleton was awoken the next morning to the delivery of this unusual looking bit of botany. He saw the note from his friend Nigel, heard of his passing from the courier, and changed his fortune. It was at that moment, on his front door step in Putney that he had the vision- the monkey puzzle tree would be the middle class accessory of 1823.

The sandwich didn't last long

Dingies are useful contraptions, although full of odd contradictions in design. Now that I was on this glorified raft, I had no choice but to float. Floating, usually meant as a relaxing activity,was disappointing as my only means of transportation. This was my getaway and I was looking for jet propulsion. Instead, things took a turn for the worse when Bonkers looked at me with fire in his eyes and raised his gleaming left paw. More of a hacksaw than a limb, it was clear the next few moments were going to move quickly.

Factor in Bonkers, and it's a miracle I survived. Bonkers, however, did not. Don't think me a callous person, for I did mourn the loss of my maritime companion. But free of my furry friend I was able to concentrate on the scene before me. The hailstones, now piled in the centre of the dingy, had stopped falling from the sky. The storm, as quickly as it descended decided to move on to torture others. That was the good news. The bad news was that there was only sea around me in every direction, and a collection of junk pulled from the sinking ship.

I tried to rearrange my things while I waited for cleverness to visit me, but I couldn't get the image of a laughing Jasper out of my head. Green eyes staring hard at me, lines knotting his face, and dark curly hair, I hated him even if he was the most fun I'd had all summer.

Lost at sea

In a small sailboat, I made my way on the half day's journey between Calais and Dover. With everything to prove, a tuna fish sandwich, and my cat "Bonkers", I set off confidently in the beaming morning sun. I was therefore entirely surprised when the skies opened up and dumped hailstones on my deck and lightining made mesh of my sail.

Bonkers, being a seaworthy creature, did the first thing that came to his mind. He crawled onto my neck and rested his claws in my skin. If it weren't for his gifts as a fisherman, he would have been abandoned long ago. With Bonkers drawing small droplets of blood, I focused on the task at hand. A loud crack made it clear that the damage the boat sustained was fatal for it. The "Up Yours II" was going to sink, and its exit would be a fast one.

With Bonkers as scarf rather than co-pilot, I grabbed what I could and five minutes later, we were in the emergency dingy with my lovely ship now 2/3 under water.