The Bermuda Whalers: Chapter IX

Hugh Hamilton

"Yes? What do you want?" said a kindly looking gentleman as Ben poked his head in the door.
"Uh..." Ben gulped painfully. "Hello."
"Er, hello," said the man.
There was a sizable pause.
"Do you want anything, or...?" asked the man.
"Ah," began Ben carefully, "my friend here wondered if he could borrow some flour."
Hugh's head emerged from the door.
"Hello," he said.
"Hello," replied the man. "Flour you say?"
"Yes," confirmed Hugh.
"I'm sorry, I didn't have the foresight to bring any with me," the man explained. "I figured the chef would already have more then enough flour."
"Whoa!" exclaimed Ben. "You can NEVER have enough flour."
Hugh shot Ben a confused glare.
"If you say so," said the man, equally confused.
The three men exchanged nervous nods.
"Hi, I'm Ben," said Ben, thrusting out his hand.
"Pleased to meet you, Ben, and...?"
"Hugh," said Hugh.
"Pleased to meet you too, Hugh," said the man. "I'm Grace."
They all shook hands.
"I'm curious," said Grace, "why did you want flour?"
"It's simple," Hugh said. "I'm baking a cake."
"Oh, OK. What sort of cake?" enquired Grace.
"Well, I was planning to make a carrot cake," replied Hugh quickly.
"I love carrot cake!" exclaimed Grace, leaping to his feat.
"Yes! It's such a great cake," enthused Hugh.
"It is," commented Grace. "I hope I'm not out of line by saying this but could I have a slice when you finish?"
"You most certainly can!" said Hugh.
"Wow, thanks a lot!"
"Look, don't mention it."
Ben gave up and began focusing intently on the ceiling as the two rabbited on about carrot cake. A cake, he added to himself, that Hugh had no idea how to make.
"You know what?" said Grace. "I think we should all go for coffee."
"No," said Ben. "How about we gamble?"
Grace stared at Ben.
"You gamble?"
"Yes," said Ben.
"Ew." Grace screwed up his face. "That's disgusting."
"That's nothing compared to my whaling habit." Ben smiled to himself.
"You hunt whales? How could you do such a thing? It means death for a living animal, and death for no reason is murder."
"Actually, I do have a reason: money and food. Ever tasted a good whale?"
Grace vomited graphically over his bed sheets. Ben's heart sunk.
"No, I love whales. I don't actually hunt them," he blabbed. "What I meant was whaling as in I can't help wailing all the time." He wailed.
It didn't help matters very much as Grace was already unconscious on the floor.