Fascinated by Marvin’s stroboscopic color changes as they explored the wreck, Chief Al escorted Marvin around the corner to some openings in the hull.
“The Flor do Mar has been down here for hundreds of years. The town of Portitingi grew up around it. It is our trademark, and we are quite proud of it. But now, someone has disgraced it. Its treasures have been stolen!”
“Treasures?” Marvin asked, imagining an eternal fountain of crabs.
“Yes! Some beautiful golden lions, with emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds encrusted in their heads.”
Marvin shrugged. Didn’t sound very appetizing.
As they entered the main room of the wreck, a bright red lobster burst out of the shadows.
He was large, even for a lobster. This meant he was getting on in years. Even so, he was clearly capable of more molts. His massive claws were high in the water, swirling about, and his eye stalks were jumping with annoyance.
“Hello, Raam!” greeted Chief Al.
“Chief Al!,” he cried, clutching a cloth handkerchief, a very unusual item for the ocean, “You’ve got to help me! Your men are destroying my beautiful wreck!”
Marvin looked into the murk and saw a mass of Man-O-War tentacles, trailing from the ocean’s surface high above, draping over every surface of the wreck. Some of the tentacles had brushed over some furniture, knocking them over in a puff of sand.
“Please, stop!” cried Raam, attempting to upright a chair, “This ship has been in my family for seventeen generations!”
“You have to understand, Raam,” said Chief Al, “In order to find out who stole your lions, we need to leave no stone unturned.”
“Oh, the horror!” cried Raam, burying in his face in his handkerchief. “Surely, no one in the history of the world has endured as much agony as I!”
Susie looked at Marvin. Marvin looked at Susie. Eye-rolling ensued.
Chief Al, all business, cut in: “Raam, tell us again what happened.”
“Well,” Raam said, settling into an old chest, relishing the attention, “At the time of the last full moon, I was out late directing my latest musical, “I’ll Swim in Your Tears.” I had called a late rehearsal, at 10 p.m., as the cast has just been atrocious this time around. I needed to whip them into shape.” He rapidly flicked an antenna to emphasize his point.
Chief Al, whom Marvin deemed was smarter than he looked, asked, “Wasn’t that awfully late for rehearsal?”
“Nah,” Raam said, “Most of my cast is nocturnal anyway. I’ve been holding late rehearsals for the last three weeks. When I came back to my boat, just after midnight, I discovered my precious lions were gone!”
Suddenly, another Portuguese Man-o-War burst in. “Sir, we’ve found a broken box!”
The hydroid held up an empty box, complex patterns adorning it, its lid half gone.
“Oh, no, not again!” cried Raam, “The golden bracelet of the Rajah of Sabandar has been stolen!”
“I’ve heard of that!” said Marvin. “That’s the jewelry that was swallowed fifty years ago by that tiger shark – Clark Stanley! He traveled the seas, putting on performances for sold-out crowds of decorator crabs. During his performance, he would cough the bracelet up, put it on some poor crab’s head, make him do a little dance, and convince everyone the bracelet had cured the crab of rheumatism! He would then take all the ticket money and move on to the next town.”
“What happened to him?” asked Susie.
“Clark the Shark didn’t find that bracelet – he stole it from my family!” Raam interrupted, claws in the air, “My great grandfather hired the famous crab explorer, Magellan, to go after him. Magellan chased him all over the ocean, even discovering new trenches in the Pacific! When he finally found him, he pretended to be a wealthy, arthritic crab, and when Clark put the bracelet on his head, he scuttled onto his sailfish and was gone! My family has kept it locked up in that box ever since.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of that crab,” said Susie, “Was that…Ferdinand Magellan?”
“No,” Raam said, slightly irritated. “Bartholomew!”
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