The Amazing Adventure of Amanderella Gottsnobbler Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

 

Life on Board.

 

          The ship creaked across the Atlantic, stacked high with bicycles. Amanderella quickly discovered that life aboard was unlike any other.

The crew held daily “Tour de Atlantic” races on deck, pedalling stationary bicycles lashed to barrels. The sailors cheered wildly, though the bikes went nowhere, and the barrels rolled dangerously until the cook used a ladle as a referee’s whistle.

Meals were equally strange. The cook served “spoke soup,” “handlebar stew,” and puddings shaped like wheels. Amanderella ate politely, though she suspected the stew contained more grease than carrots.

Her cabin smelled faintly of rubber tyres. Each time she turned over in bed, it squeaked like a bicycle pump. At night she dreamed of pedalling across the ocean, her pointed hat streaming behind her.

Captain Ahaboodle Flotsamwhirl was the strangest of all. He insisted on steering with a bicycle bell, ringing it before every course correction. “Starboard!” ding ding! “Port!” ding ding! The crew swore the bell kept them safe from storms, though Amanderella suspected it mostly kept them awake.

And then there was the First Mate, Riptide Noodnuzzle. He was wiry, with arms like tangled ropes and a laugh that sounded like a squeaky chain. His job was to keep the crew in order, but he mostly shouted encouragement during the barrel‑bike races. “Pedal harder, lads! Pretend you’re outrunning a shark on a tricycle!”

He also had a habit of polishing the ship’s railings with bicycle oil, so that anyone leaning too casually slid halfway down the deck. Amanderella learned quickly to grip her compass tightly whenever Riptide was about.

On the third week at sea, the Pedal Power reached the Equator. The crew had been preparing for days, polishing bells and oiling chains, for this was no ordinary crossing. It was the sacred “Equator Ceremony.” "As the ship approached the Equator, the crew buzzed with excitement. Crossing this invisible line had long been a proud tradition among sailors, marking their entry into the Southern Hemisphere and the beginning of new adventures.

Captain Ahaboodle Flotsamwhirl stood proudly at the helm, his grape‑shaped beard bristling. He rang his bicycle bell with solemn dignity. Ding ding! “Attention! We are about to cross into the Southern Hemisphere. King Neptune demands a proper ceremony!”

First Mate Riptide Noodnuzzle leapt onto a barrel, arms flapping like tangled ropes. “Bring forth the new passenger!” he cried. “She must prove herself worthy of the tropics!”

Amanderella was escorted to the deck, her pointed hat tilted against the sun. The sailors had decorated the deck with bicycle wheels hung like garlands, and a throne made from handlebars and saddles awaited her.

King Neptune wobbled toward Amanderella on a bicycle, his mop wig flapping wildly in the wind. ‘By the power of pedals and puddles!’ he boomed, trying to sound grand but looking more comical than majestic. The crew struggled to stifle their laughter."

A sailor presented her with a pudding shaped like a wheel, which she was required to taste solemnly.

Another challenged her to ring three bicycle bells in harmony.

Finally, she was crowned with a halo made from a golden bicycle wheel, wobbling slightly as it perched on her pointed hat.

As the crew crowned her, Amanderella blinked in surprise. Could she truly be becoming an explorer? Just weeks ago, she was tinkering in a dusty stable, dreaming of adventures.

Captain Flotsamwhirl rang his bell again. Ding ding! “She has crossed the line! She is now a daughter of the Southern Hemisphere!”

The crew cheered, pedalling furiously on their barrel‑bikes in celebration. Amanderella laughed, her vest jingling faintly with hidden coins.

She felt triumphant: she had crossed the Equator, survived the ceremony, and was one step closer to the Grewpug Explorers.

The Pedal Power had just crossed the Equator when the skies darkened. Waves rose like bicycle wheels turned on edge, and the ship pitched up and down as if it was on a gigantic roller-coaster

The crew clung to barrels and handlebars, groaning miserably. Captain Flotsamwhirl rang his bicycle bell in panic — ding ding! — but even he turned pale. First Mate Riptide Noodnuzzle staggered across the deck, arms flapping like tangled ropes, before collapsing beside the pump.

Only Amanderella remained steady. Her pointed hat tilted against the wind, she marched calmly to her cabin and returned with the bottle of Dr. Rumbletum’s Elixir.

“Stand in line,” she commanded. “One teaspoon each.”

The sailors obeyed, too seasick to argue. One by one they swallowed the strange syrup. Within minutes, colour returned to their cheeks, and they were pedalling barrel‑bikes again, cheering as though the storm were a carnival ride.

Captain Flotsamwhirl wiped his beard. “By Neptune’s pedals, Miss, you’ve saved us!”

Riptide Noodnuzzle laughed weakly. “I thought I’d be feeding the fishes. Instead, I’m fit for a Tour de Atlantic sprint!”

Amanderella tucked the bottle back into her knapsack. “Dr. Rumbletum’s Elixir,” she said firmly. “Never travel without it.”

The storm passed, leaving a calmness in its wake. The crew sighed with relief, their laughter returning as they pedalled on their barrel bikes. ‘Brazil, here we come!’ 

Flotsamwhirl rang his bell triumphantly. Amanderella stood at the rail, compass in hand, vest jingling faintly with coins. She was ready for whatever the jungle might throw at her.

The Pedal Power steamed into the harbour at Brazil, bicycles tumbling from crates in chaotic heaps. Sailors shouted, parrots squawked, and the air smelled of coffee and rubber tyres.

Amanderella stood at the rail, compass in hand, her vest jingling faintly with coins. She was ready — though she had no idea how to reach the Grewpug Explorers.

The docks of Brazil were a riot of noise: traders shouting, parrots squawking, bicycles tumbling from crates. Amanderella stepped ashore, vest jingling faintly with coins.

She quickly discovered one problem — she could not speak the local tongue. But Amanderella was undaunted.

“If I speak slowly and loudly,” she told herself, “they will understand me. Everyone understands loud and slow.”

So, she marched up to a bewildered dockworker and declared, in her clearest voice:
“HELLO! I AM LOOKING FOR… THE GREWPUG EXPLORERS!”

The dockworker blinked, then pointed vaguely toward the jungle, more to escape the noise than from comprehension.

Amanderella beamed. “See? Perfectly understood.”

Throughout the day she repeated her strategy:

• To a fruit seller: “BANANAS? NO! I NEED… MAPS!”
• To a sailor: “HELLO! PLEASE TELL ME… WHERE IS… THE AMAZON RIVER?”
• To a parrot: “HELLO! DO YOU KNOW… THE GREWPUG EXPLORERS?”

The parrot squawked back, “Explorers! Explorers!” which Amanderella took as a sign she was on the right track.

By evening, she was convinced her method worked flawlessly. The locals were baffled, but Amanderella was certain she was making progress.

When the last of the bicycles was unloaded Riptide Noodnuzzle bounded down the gangplank  ‘Miss! These people do not know where the Grewpug camp is,’ he explained, his voice squeaky. Amanderella frowned. 

‘But how will I find them?’ 

“You’ll need a boatman to take you upriver. And I know just the fellow.”

He beckoned, and through the bustle stepped Ramone — impossibly handsome, with sun‑bronzed skin, a smile like polished mahogany, and shoulders broad enough to carry half the bicycles himself.

“This is Ramone,” Riptide announced proudly. “He ferries people and supplies up to the Grewpug camp. Knows every bend of the river, every ripple of the water. If anyone can get you there, it’s him.”

Ramone bowed slightly, his eyes gleaming. His words rolled out in the crisp tones of a perfect public school English accent, as though he had just stepped from the debating chamber at Eton rather than a dockside on the Amazon.

“The river is waiting, senhorita,” he said smoothly. “The Grewpug Explorers are deep in the basin, but I can take you to them. It is a pleasant change to have a lady to take up the Amazon.”

Amanderella tilted her pointed hat, faintly puzzled by his accent. She had expected jungle roughness, not vowels polished like silver spoons.

As Ramone led her through the colourful streets, he mentioned tales of the Grewpug Explorers. ‘They’ve seen wonders in the jungle that would make your pointed hat spin!’ Amanderella felt a thrill — what extraordinary sights lay ahead?

“But not tonight,” Ramone continued. “We leave at dawn in a couple of days. Meanwhile, you shall stay at my sister’s hotel. Carmelita will look after you.”

He led her through the bustling streets to a small, brightly painted inn. The sign above the door read Hotel das Bicicletas, and every window box overflowed with flowers.

Carmelita greeted her with a warm smile and a lilting Brazilian accent. “Bem‑vinda, senhora! You are most welcome. Please, come in.”

Amanderella followed her upstairs, surprised to find the room already prepared — fresh linen, a jug of cool water, and a view of the harbour where bicycles were still being unloaded in chaotic heaps.

Carmelita handed her a key. “The Grewpug lot, they pay for anyone who comes to join them. Your room is already arranged.”

Amanderella blinked. “But how could they know?”

Carmelita shrugged, her smile mysterious. “The Grewpug Explorers, when one of them leaves another person joins. It happens all the time.”

Amanderella sat on the bed, her vest jingling faintly with hidden coins. She was astonished — not only had she crossed the ocean, survived storms, and found a guide, but now even her lodging was paid for. The Grewpug Explorers were waiting, and soon the river would carry her closer to them.