Free In a Latitude of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 5) by Ichabod Temperance

here, gentlemen, by engaging the formidable gentleman in combat, but I am not sure. It remains to be seen in which camp these two forces lie. I suggest that we attempt to reason with the fierce gentleman should we meet again. Somehow, I think we will.”
    “Si, Senorita Plumtartt, until such time as we ascertain of which ‘camp’ as you put it, the two forces are in, is there anything we can do to protect ourselves against the threat of these blood sucking fiends?”
    “I would like to think the Palm Leaf Crucifixes I fashioned have kept us safe, but I wonder to just what extent that protection grants, versus the level of hunger and desire in the given vampire. Perhaps we can supplement our crucifix supply when next we go ashore.”
    “In truth, I think these monsters have an ulterior motive that they aspire to beyond the immediate gratification from their own needs of nourishment. This is what has helped us to retain our blood supply to date, but I have a suspicion that there is more we can do to ensure our safety. I was struck by how the strident strikes of garlic left our enemy stricken upon the docks of Rio de Janeiro. I understand that these beings are curiously repelled by the fragrant food flavoring root of the garlic bulb. There is not so much as a single clove aboard ship. I have already searched. When next we make port, I suggest that we begin a rigid regimen of this rousing roughage. Perhaps if our fluids are sufficiently suffused with the fragrant food, our hemo-globic reserves will lose their appeal, eh, hem?”
    “That’s fine with me, Ma’am, I really like garlic anyway, so gettin’ to slather up lots of buttery bread with it sounds okay to me.”
    “Er, yes, Mr. Temperance, that is good to hear.”
    “Well, if that bae the case ye’ better tae git ye’ smoochin’ with ye’ gel, a’now Icksy m’boy. She may’nae wants nae lovin’ with the gaseous garlic fumes roarin’ from ye’ throat once ye’ gobbled down a handfull o’ the stouoffe.”
    “Say! Mr. Steele has a point, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am!”
    “Indeed, Mr. Temperance, however, if we are to properly, ‘smooch’, as Pol so quaintly describes, I think that I should prefer more privacy. I suggest that you accompany me to the dinghy, forthwith.”
    “Yes, Ma’am!”
    ---
    Right on’nae schedule, the storms have returned at nightfall, blast the awful and foul weathers. T’is a treat tae bae able tae predict the unhappy meteourologaecal disturbances so easily. In a great cloud of ill-portents, we are blown up the Rio de Plata, deep intae the countinent o’ South Americae. This wide outlet is bourdered by Uruguay to the north, and the Republic of Argentina ahead and to the south. The weather has dropped off decidedly cooler as we sail intae the southern latitudes. Port is made in the city o’ Buenos Aires. Though the wind bae roaring and the lightning flashing when we make the harbor, it settles down and even stops raining when the two tuxedoed devils, Count Sezami and Count Onyx’Ula walk onae deck. Wherre a’fore the turbulent skies annae rough seas threaten tae destroy us all, the weather bae behaeving when these two mounsters bae wanting it.
    Mooring lines are cast and dock workers secure us safely as we make the doucks o’ Buenos Aires. A fresh gangplank has been counstructed, bhaughtte the ebony and ivory hostal duo o’ Count Sezami and Count Onyx’Ula dinnae allow our exit.
    “Ha, ha! Hello my guests! You are invited to enjoy our stay in Argentina aboard the ship. Ha, ha! Count Onyx’Ula and I both think that you will all be far more comfortable here, on the ‘Stoker’ . I count zero reasons for you to come with us. Ha, ha! Vee do not know if the dastardly attacker from Rio de Janeiro has somehow followed us. Ha, ha! It is for your safety, ha, ha, that we ask you to stay aboard the ship to enjoy her protection . Ha, ha!”
    “Your thoughts as to our welfare are most considerate, Senor Count Sezami; however, my