The Monkeys extend their tails and wrap themselves around a mast, clinging tightly to it; the King and the old woman are covered within that embrace, as secure as they could be under the circumstances.
We’re dead again, Labaguette thinks, cosy and warm, if not safe, inside the Captain’s pocket.
With the tornadoes and their silver mist approaching fast, the Captain yells defiantly:
“I’M A SURVIVOR, WE’RE SURVIVORS, TO HELL WITH TORNADOES, TEMPESTS AND TEMPTATION! TO HELL WITH—“
When the ship hits the storm, the Captain gasps for air after swallowing the first storm particles that cross his path and he is forced to hold his mouth shut.
The tough winds pick up in speed but, as the tornadoes are about to rip the Insatiable Princess to pieces, they pass by the sides of the ship, as if avoiding it, with flying particles surrounding them disintegrating branches, trees and all that had grown out of proportion and made the ship an island of some sort.
Soon, the tornadoes are behind them and the tormenting winds evaporate almost as quickly as they’d come. The Policeman unfolds and reappears, beaming on his podium.
“Let me out!” a small voice screams from inside the Captain’s pocket.
“What now?” the Captain asks, pulling Labaguette up, “would you like to test your flying abilities?”
“Temptation,” Labaguette mutters, “what was that all about?”
“THE MIST!” Labaguette insists, “IT’S HERE!”
“Shut up!” the Policeman says, “I know where we are. Prepare to turn. Prepare for landing.”
“But,” Labaguette carries on, “the River, the River, you—“
“—Shut up!” the Policeman reiterates.
“—But, but, but… yeah right,” the Captain says, shoving the bird back where he belongs, staring ahead, observing the orange mist on the horizon.