The Ribbajack

Paddy stroked its back with one finger. “This, me darlin’, is the Malabar Egyptian. Right, Atty?”

The Siamese cook spoke in reverent tones. “That feller mongoose, bravest snake killer in alla world. You wait here, I get friend mongoose some food!”

Whilst Atty was gone, Paddy explained to his daughter about the animal. “Y’see, Migg, this feller ain’t no common mongoose. He comes off a very special strain. His father an’ mother were both prize serpent slayers, bred from rare stock. His bloodline is a mixture of two kinds o’ mongooses. Malabar, an’ Egyptian ichneumon, the bravest there is. They’re also the most lovin’ an’ faithful of pets, ask Atty, he’ll tell ye.”

The cook returned with an egg, which he gave to Miggy. “Hold mongoose, blow in his face gently, soft now.”

She did as he instructed. The mongoose leaned close to her mouth, its nostrils twitching. Atty nodded.

“He know you now. Crack egg a little, put it on floor for mongoose feller. He like egg pretty good.”

Miggy cracked the egg slightly. Liquid leaked from it as she placed it on the floor. Putting the mongoose down next to it, she spoke quietly. “Come on, Sailor, this is for you.”

The little beast leaped on the egg, holding it with its paws and attacking the shell with razor-sharp teeth. Paddy McGrail watched his daughter stroking the mongoose as it lapped up both yolk and white like a hungry kitten. “Sailor, eh? That’s a good name for him.”

Miggy nodded. “Well, he sailed with you, Dad, all the way from India. What do you think, Atty?”

The cook shook his head. “No, should be called Lascar, that name for Indian sailor. Lascar!” He reached forward to stroke the creature’s nose with one finger. It snarled, baring its teeth warningly. Atty pulled his hand away quickly.

“He loyal to you now ’til fifty-sixth of Foreveryear. Best he be called Sailor, he British citizen now. You take care of Sailor, he take care of you, ho, yes!”

Miggy scoffed. “How could a little fellow like him take care of me?”

Atty Lok sounded deadly serious. “I tell you, missy, mongoose fear nothing, not scared of poison serpent or death. He protec’ you good!”

Sailor had finished his egg. He looked up from the well-licked shell fragments at Miggy. Folding him in her arms, she stroked him lovingly. The mongoose snuggled up to his new owner, making rusty little noises of pleasure.

Paddy McGrail cautioned his daughter, “Don’t be carryin’ him round an’ pettin’ him like that. I’ve got a feelin’ that Eric doesn’t like animals of any kind, especially foreign ones. Keep Sailor out of sight when your uncle Eric’s around. No sense invitin’ trouble, darlin’.”

Miggy heeded the warning, it made good sense. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll make him a little nest behind my bed, and I’ll only bring him out when Uncle Eric isn’t in.” Whilst she talked, the young mongoose gazed up into her eyes, as if listening intently to every word Miggy said.

Every one of the four days her dad was home, Miggy Mags rose early. She fed Sailor on bacon rinds, crusts spread with molasses and the odd cracked egg, which Atty left out for her. She went about her tasks with a will, the object being to get them out of the way so she could spend time with her father. Everything went well until the third day. Paddy had taken Miggy for a visit aboard the Bengal Pearl, a delightful day out for her. Her dad’s shipmates, both crew and officers, went out of their way to make her happy. Most of the men were bachelors and had no children of their own. They were enchanted with Paddy’s young daughter. Miggy was given a tour of the vessel, from stem to stern, by two whiskery old salts. A wheelhouse officer even let her turn the massive brass-bound mahogany steering wheel, allowing her to wear his peaked cap. She was served afternoon tea in the crew’s mess with the captain, doctor, purser and all hands attending. Miggy was treated to ham sandwiches, Madeira cake and Ceylon tea. The captain showed her how to stick out a little finger when holding the delicate Satsuma china cups, which he had provided for the occasion. The purser asked her to pour tea for them, chuckling as he referred to her as “Mother.” It was early evening when they came ashore, Paddy swaggering proudly alongside his young daughter. Miggy had some coins and handcrafted trinkets donated by her dad’s shipmates. It had been a day to remember.

But disaster awaited them on their return to the Mersey Star Boardinghouse.

Atty Lok came hurrying up the quayside to warn them. “Eric have much sick belly, he come home early from pub. Ho, yes, big bad mood, you stay out of Eric’s way until he go up to room an’ sleep!”

The cook was about to tell more when Eric McGrail appeared at the door. His face was ashen. He crouched, clutching his stomach as he roared, “Where’ve ye both been all day, eh? Leavin’ a poor sick man to fend for hisself. Fine family you two are!”

Paddy pushed Miggy behind him as he enquired about his brother. “Eric, are you alright, mate, what ails ye?”