The Amelia Project - Episode 69 - Henry Avery (1696)

Episode Date: August 4, 2023

"Not just any old pirate... Henry Avery! The king of the pirates!" The Interviewer and Kozlowski are travelling on a merchant ship, The Honselaarsdijk, from Holland to the Americas. Three days out from their destination, their ship is attacked by another vessel, which is flying the skull and crossbones... This episode features Toby Williams, Alan Burgon, Hemi Yeroham, Julia C. Thorne, Benjamin Noble, Laurence Owen and Torgny G. Aanderaa. It was written by Lindsay Sharman with story editing and direction by Philip Thorne and Oystein Ulsberg Brager, sound design by Eli Hamada Mcilveen and music by Fredrik Baden. Graphic design by Anders Pedersen and production assistance by Maty Parzival. Thanks to Long Cat Media for recording assistance! Content warning: this episode contain strong language and the sound of sawing bone. Website: https://ameliapodcast.com  Transcripts: https://ameliapodcast.com/transcripts Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ameliapodcast Donations: https://ameliapodcast.com/support Merch: https://www.teepublic.com/stores/the-amelia-project?ref_id=6148 Twitter: https://twitter.com/amelia_podcast Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ameliapodcast/ Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ameliapodcast Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Your teen requested a ride, but this time, not from you. It's through their Uber Teen account. It's an Uber account that allows your teen to request a ride under your supervision with live trip tracking and highly rated drivers. Add your teen to your Uber account today. Cold tapes. A gripping crime story that will chill you to the bone. You know, life on the base means, well, it's close to six months without light. That does things to people.

That study that he was doing to watch us and then set off us like mice around this special little experiment. How many people are on this base? Sixteen on this one. Someone amongst them is our killer. Experience Cold Tapes, the murder mystery podcast game. Start your investigation where you get your podcasts. The Amelia Project would not be possible without the generous support of our patrons. This episode is dedicated to super patron Tim McMacken, who will die in a sword-swallowing stunt gone wrong and reappear as a cinema projectionist in Shetland. Enjoy the show.

Mother, will you sing me to sleep? Tomorrow, can Pomp come to play? He is delirious. Oh dear. Your two lips, like pickled cherries. Kiss me goodnight, Mother. Captain, that is not your mother. It's not?

I'm not, No. Sorry. Captain, do you know where you are? Where? We're in your cabin on the Honselage deck. The Honselage deck? Ring any bells? Yes. Yes.

My flight. Yes. The storm. Yes. My cargo. Washed overboard, I'm afraid., the storm, my cargo. Washed overboard, I'm afraid, along with most of the crew. This voyage is cursed. Did you feel it weeks ago, back in Amsterdam?

A blood came aboard. Cursed. Pompey will be sad. Right, he's gone again. Pass the bone saw, if you please. Bone saw? For delirium? No, for the gangrenous leg. Oh, that.

Here we go. That is too small. I need the big bone saw. This one? No, bigger. This one? No, bigger. I one? No, bigger. I will find it. The veil is lifting.

I die now. I'd rather you didn't. It would be terrible for morale. Come on, old man. The passengers need you. Your crew needs you. What's left of them. And we're so close.

Hang on in there, old chap. We're only three days out from New Orange. Hold on, wait. New Orange? Yes? What on earth is New Orange? But, but, New Orange, the city. New Orange is a city? Yes.

I've never heard of it. I'm pretty sure you have. Where is it? In the Caribbean? No. Does it still exist? Does it still... Are you having me on? No. Then you must be half asleep. I mean, it is almost midnight.

Do we need to get a coffee? No, I don't need coffee. I'm fine. I've just never heard of New Orange. Oh, Alvina, Alvina. You've even been there? No, I'm pretty confident I've never been to any city named after citrus fruit, new or old. Well, OK, yes, that's true. We never actually got there. We ended up eating early morning doughnuts instead. They were incredible doughnuts, weren't they? Early morning? Wait, are you talking about... Yes, New Orange. Manhattan, Broadway, Times Square, the Statue of Liberty, you know.

New York. New York, yes. Oh, of course, New York. How could I forget? You thought it was called New Orange. Yes, well, that's because it was. Yes, the Dutch called it New Orange. For a while. It didn't stick. Can't see why. Good thing, though, or it would never have become the Big Apple.

Yes. OK, so you and Kozlowski came travelling from Holland. Did you live there? Only briefly. We had a client die by collapsing dam. And left a quarter of the country underwater. Oops. Oops, indeed.

Next up, the Americas, or so we thought. Should I get back to the story? Sure. So the captain was on his last legs and you were three days out of new mandarin. Orange. Sorry, new nectarine. OK, now you're just being silly. New pomegranate.

Look, it wasn't me who came up with the name. New lime, new tangerine. My eyes. So heavy. Fuck me. I'd go now. Here it is. Oh, so you meant the enormous bone saw. Shh.

I think he's fallen asleep. Captain, wake up. Here. Bite down on this. You woke him up to saw his leg off? Yes. I would want to be awake. Well, you might, but I doubt that...

Captain? Oh, dear. That sounds like a death rattle. God's teeth, not another one. Bon voyage, good captain. Bon voyage, good captain. Well, there is no point wasting a perfectly good corpse. Wait, what are you doing? I'm harvesting rib. It is remarkably similar to nascent cartilage. One day, I shall fashion a nose so magnificent. But this is the captain, old chap.

Shouldn't you leave him alone? Death cares not for status. We are all equal under its yoke. Almost all of us. Oh, but the crew, they're a superstitious lot. They won't like it. They will not know. I will tidy him afterwards.

I always do. Oh, I'm not so sure you're as discreet as you think you are. In fact, I rather think they already suspect. How is he? A broad room. Oh, lovely. Go and heat it up with a bit of nutmeg. There's a good chap.

It's for the captain, not you. Yummy. Captain? Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. You said you could save him. What happened to his chest? Why are his ribs sticking out?

Um... gangrene? Now, don't worry, young man. I will prepare the captain for sea burial. Gangrene? Did that? Unless you would prefer to keep him. Ah, there is an ancient embalming practice from Canemborno that uses pulverized cinnabar. I have been eager to try. Get away from him! Don't touch him! I said get away from him! What's the matter?

What's the matter? The captain's dead, that's what. And so is everyone this this creature's had his way with. I think he's talking about you. I think he is. I knew I shouldn't have left the captain alone with you. You're no healer. You're... Now look here. He did his best.

He's usually rather good at this sort of thing. Well, in my defence, some of my tools and unguents were swept overboard during the last storm. The cursed storms. So many storms. As if the sickness weren't enough. A score dead in less than a week. The rest wasted away, skin on bone. But you two, look at you. Rosy cheeks, bright eyes, as hale and hearty as when you boarded in Amsterdam six long weeks ago. You, you're unnatural. Now look here, good man. I can see you're upset, but remember, we lost people too, you know. There were five in our group at the start of this wretched journey. A brotherhood.

Yeah? And where are the other three now? I'll tell you where. That one carved them up before they were cold and pickled bits of them in brine. Some brotherhood. I told you they suspected something. So you don't deny it. Desecrating your own men. Well, they agreed to it when they signed the contract. Not the title. Contract? To work with us. Clause 48, subsection D, paragraph 2. In the event of my death, while employed by the Brotherhood of the Phoenix, I consent to my remains being used for science and...

Devilry! You're the devil's minion! And as for you, you're his bedfellow. Bedfellow? Not my type, old bean. Uh, Bosun... You're needed up on deck, sir. The captain's dead, Figgins. And mutilated. Seize these men!

Oh, come on. Let's calm down and be sensible about this. What are you waiting for? The captain's dead because of them! Well, that's simply not true. The thing is, Bosun... What? Is that cannon fire? Oh, no. No! Pirates? Now it's pirates? Oh, what next?

A giant squid? Well, it's rather good timing actually. Rather good timing? Mosen, they're flying. Henry Avery's flag! Henry Avery? Oh, um... Not just any old pirate then. Henry Avery. the king of the pirates. Thank you. The Amelia Project

by Philip Thorne and Øystein Ulspek Braga with music and sound direction by Frederik Baden and sound design by Eli Hamada-Mackleveen Episode 69. Henry Avery. 1696. Guest episode by Lindsay Shum. Look at this.

In your face! She's going up! She's going down! She's going down! Goodbye, Hansel Arshtig. You were... very difficult to pronounce. Ouch! Move it! You don't have to poke me with your sword.

I'm cooperating. No dilly-dallying. Why have you brought us on board? Captain Avery wants a word with you two. That's Henry Avery, the king of... King of the pirates, yes, we know. Good. So that means this ship is the fancy?

That's right. The famous fancy. It is... small. That's what I was thinking. Much smaller than you'd expect. It's like when we met Elizabeth I. Wasn't she tiny? Such a little head.

Like a blanched almond. Little, but fearless, fierce and frightening. I know she was, wasn't she? Shut your traps. In there, both of you. Go on, move. Yes, all right. Sit down.

Don't touch anything. The captain will be along at his leisure. Why do you think they have only taken us captive? Our superior dental hygiene? Perhaps Captain Avery would like tips on how to keep one's breath fresh on a prolonged diet of hard tack and dried anchovies. Or perhaps, might we have a customer? Hmm. He has a bounty on his head. Yes, a colossal bounty.

He's a wanted man. He needs to disappear. He's already trying to. I mean, look at this ship. This can't be the fancy. Look at this room. The captain's quarters of the world's richest man, and you could barely swing a cat. No, he's in hiding. All that loot, and he can't even spend it.

We could help him. We could, but we must be careful. Avery is ruthless. He would sooner torture a man than pay for his services. Since he'd enjoy it too. So I suppose the question is, should we help him? As much as I delight in discussing the ethical parameters of our work, perhaps we should try and survive this encounter first. Agreed. Agreed. Stand up! Look smart! Captain Avery's on his way. Good luck. Don't look him in the eye.

He's like a rabbit dog. He'll take it as a threat. Rabbit dog? Where should we look? Well, um... Pretend there's an invisible parrot on his shoulder and look at that. Captain Avery? Yes! All right, fellas, thanks for coming.

Sit down, sit down. Wait, wait, wait. Before I forget, give me a sec. Jesus! Oi! Don't just stand there holding your bricks. Go pick up the survivors, yeah? Fish them out in the water! Go on! It's all mess, you clean it up! Sorry, lads, I said to them one cannon blast is one,

and that's all it needs, but the lads got overexcited, didn't they? Sorry, what was your ship called again? The Hansel Artstick. It was Dutch. Dutch, ooh. Nothing like a pancake, is there? Knob of brandy butter on top. It's not just for Christmas, mate.

Nice bit of streaky bacon. Fish-bash-bosh down the hatch. Am I right? One second, one second. I can sense when you're dragging your feet. Get to it! Survivors, now! Stop standing around with your cutlasses up your arse. Yes, Chef! Sorry, Chef! Bloody hell, I mean, they're good lads, but fuck me.

Thick as pork fan and idiot custard, know what I mean? Not really. May I ask what we're doing here, Captain Avery? Brother under the phoenix, innit? That's you. And how did you come to hear that name, may I ask? Oh yeah, you fellas like to keep it a secret, don't you? Well, don't blame you. Got a recipe for a crispy chicken coat and that is going to the fucking grave with me. Try and get it out of me. You won't. You can't. There's no point. Don't try.

Don't even think about it. It ain't happening. Wind your neck in. But yeah, Robert of the Phoenix. Let me think. One night, in New Providence,

a few months back, down by the shore I was, dopey and swaying with the drink, water lapping at my feet, the moon hanging in a squidding sky Dopey and swaying with the drink. Water lapping at my feet. The moon hanging in a squidding sky. Like a fresh ball of mozzarella. And then a voice.

Such a voice. Swam into my shell legs. Drifting across the waves. A haunting siren song it was. That told of the two men who would not die who gave new lives to others you met a siren you heard such a creature and lived and she sang of us now i'm just pulling your leg your faces now i heard it from the landlady, the Africa.

Let's this pub me and the lads like a patient. It does a bang up mutton rum stew with ghost peppers. Spicy. Lovely stuff. Anyway, she told me you fellas could help me with my little problem. Which is? Well, I've got this rash on me bollocks. Oh, um, uh.

I'm just joking. I'm joking with you. I've got you again. me bollocks. Oh, oh, um, uh... No, I'm just joking. I'm joking with you. I've got you again. It's a... Good one. It's a... Well... I'm... Uh...

Yeah. Yeah, I'm not sure how to put it now. Now it comes to it. You see, the problem is... The problem is... That you are the most hunted man in the world? Bish bash bosh, have a banana. Ding ding, we have a winner for the meat raffle.

Oi oi oi! Yeah, that's it. Yes, well, it's a tricky problem. All eyes are on you, Captain Avery. The whole world watches, and our services are not cheap. Well, you know I'm good for it. I'm the richest man in the world. Fatwads Avery, that's me. Yes but your loot is problematic is it not? I mean you stole the incomparable Moogle treasure from

the Ganges Hawaii. Highly identifiable and in such vast quantities that even moving it puts you at risk of discovery. I mean your your crew are highly identifiable too, are they not? And if captured, would be tortured until they revealed your movements. In essence, Captain Avery, it is not just you that needs a new identity, but your crew and the loot too. Sounds pretty bloody bad when you put it like that Yes, it is a terrible problem For Henry Avery Yep

One almost feels sorry for Henry Avery Um, thanks? Except when one remembers that Henry Avery is an ex-slaver, a torturer, a rapist, a murderer. And then one does not feel sorry for Henry Avery. Not at all. I should kill you for that. Yes. One does not say that sort of thing to Henry Avery's face, does one? Not without one finding out what one's own spleen looks like.

No. So, thank goodness, he's not here. But I wonder where exactly is he? And why is a ship's cook pretending to be him? Oh, how do you know I'm a ship's cook? Well, I mean, your crew did call you chef. Oh, Christ in a bun. They really are stupid. Yes, and you do talk about food

a lot. Bollocks! Well, maybe I do talk about food a lot. Maybe I'm a bloody good ship's cook. What I can do with a piece of heart attack is nothing short of magic. Yeah, alright, you got me. My name's Jack Boyd. I may not be Henry Avery, but I do have his loot, and I have his crew.

And if any of us get caught, we're bloody toast. So you gonna help us or not? Oh, I find you very interesting indeed. So yes, we'll help you. But first, you need to tell us your story. You need to tell us your story. Not all pirates are merciless killers, you know. Most were just normal sailors, sick of being treated like dirt.

Less than dirt. I was in the British Navy as a lad. I saw what they did to their own people. Grueling, dangerous work, terrible wages, and once they break your body, kicked out without a penny, left on the streets to starve. So tell me, what would you do? You're a couple of toffs, you wouldn't understand. But for the rest of us, piracy is the only chance we have to make proper money and get out of the game. Just enough to buy a piece of land, settle down, have a family, get a dog. Write a book of rumbase desserts. But that's nothing more than a dream, my good man.

What's the average? Three years before a pirate is caught and hanged for their crimes? Well, you say something that we think is worth the risk. But of course, there's some pirates that put your very soul in peril. Avery. Avery. Avery. And a lot of his crew were wankers too. The rock stars at the top, as they say.

Bugger me, I chose the wrong ship to join. The fancy, colossal it was, like his ambition. So many mouths to feed, that for a while, I was too busy working to think about... well, his methods. But last year, when they captured the Moogle treasure, what they did to those people, I couldn't take it no more. Why didn't you leave? Well, I couldn't. He wouldn't let me. See, after the sacking of the Ganges,

the Wye, Avery had to lay low. He wrecked the fancy and took a different ship, identical to the fancy but scaled down different ship, identical to the fancy but scaled down. Ah, this ship. Correct. The small fancy. Much faster, see? And not only that, but it creates an illusion. Other ships think we're further away than we are. Too far away to chase. Clever, eh? Yes, very clever. But if Avery scaled down, wasn't that an opportunity for you to leave? Oh yeah, it was. Most of the crew were sent on their way with a share of the loot, and I thought, right, this is it, I am out of here. But Avery said no. Well, he couldn't give up the best ship's cook that ever sailed the seven seas, could he? So there I was,

stuck with this psychopath, roasting his arms and icing his buns, right at the centre of the biggest manhunt in history. How terribly uncomfortable. But tell me, why haven't you been caught? It's been more than a year since Avery took the Moogle treasure. Turns out, no one's brave enough to challenge the King of the Pirates. Won't go near us, will they? Even the privateers, the professional bounty hunters. Because they don't think he's a man. They think he's tainted. They think he's the devil himself.

They're superstitious. They're sailors, innit? They think their souls in parallel for dolphins so much as looks at them sideways. But let me tell you, whatever anyone says, Avery was just a man. Obviously with bits of egg in his beard. He used to laugh at his own farts. Not just sometimes, either. Every time. When it comes down to it, Avery was just another horrible twat. So I don't regret what I did. I don't. Someone had to do something. And what was that? Poisoned bumbo.

I beg your pardon? Bumbo. Oh, it's beautiful. I mean, I've made some tweaks to the basic recipe, but you take a lovely dark rum, some water, bit of sugar, a pinch of nutmeg. Oh, yes, yes. Heat it up. Not too much. Don't want to burn off the rum. Oh, no, indeed. And sometimes I like to add some lime and a little bit of coconut water. Gives it a lovely sharp and savoury edge. And hides the poison pretty effectively, too.

May I ask what poison you used? An old Borgia recipe. Cantarella. You had access to Cantarella? Well, every good cook knows what plants and fungi to avoid, you see. And by the same token, we make rather good poisoners. I might have served this special bumbo to a few of the other pirates too. Only the horrible ones, you understand. I see. So you poisoned him and several other wrong-uns, and then assumed Avery's identity.

But why? Well, the lads thought it was a good idea. The lads? Yeah, my lads from the kitchen. You've met some of them. They was firing cannonballs at you. One of them escorted you in air. Wait, wait. They worked in your kitchen?

Originally, yeah. They had to take new roles, didn't they? We all did. What? Do you mean to say the only people you didn't poison were the kitchen staff? You mean this ship is crewed entirely by kitchen staff? Yeah, it's been a nightmare figuring out how to steer this bloody thing. But we are learning fast, and they're good lads. Think of the Walrus movie, but good lads. And they look up to me. I give them a hard time, but they know I'll protect them when the chips are down. And if the world thinks Avery's still captain of this ship, then...

Then you're all protected. Because no one dares challenge the devil himself. That's right. But it won't last much longer, will it? Greed always wins. Any day now some avaricious bastard's going to come after the bounty. Me and the lads are living on borrowed time. But see, that's why you're here. A few weeks ago, Brenda told me you'd be able to help. Brenda? The landlady of the Arthacutlas. Ah, I see. The siren.

Hmm. I wonder how Brenda knew of us. And where we'd be. Oh, Brenda knows everything. If you're ever in trouble, go find Brenda. Oh, really? Well, then why don't you just ask Brenda to help you disappear then? You fellas don't seem as busy. Well, I...

So, what's the plan? Right, yes, well, the plan is... Yeah, I don't know about you fellas, but I do my best thinking with a hot stimulating beverage and a baked good. Service! Come on, come on! Three bumbos and a plate of French fancies. Chop-chop, lads. Let's get some energy in here. Coming right up.

Oh, lovely. Thank you. So, any ideas, fellas? French fancy first? Well, perhaps I am unduly influenced by very recent events, namely the sinking of the seemingly accursed Honselaar stick, namely the sinking of the seemingly accursed Honselar's Dick, but the tale of the Flying Dutchman springs to mind. Ah, yes! The Flying Dutchman! The legendary ghost ship doomed to sail the oceans forever! The mere sight of this ship is said to send a man to a watery grave, and thus it is a

ship one would very much wish to avoid. Indeed, indeed. Well now, excellent idea, old boy. From one cursed identity to another, more effective cursed identity. You what? What you talking about? This ship will cast aside its disguise as the fancy and don a new disguise as the Flying Dutchman. And you, Boyd, will become the ghostly captain of the aforementioned Flying Dutchman.

The wretched, cursed Captain Hendrik van der Decken. For this, we will need a quantity of white paint for the ship's hull and mast, some bioluminescent algae, ghostly versions of the crew's current attire, and an Aztec death whistle. An Aztec what? Imagine a death rattle of an ancient god. That is the sound it makes. Truly an abomination. It will certainly frighten off any ship that comes too close, should the luminescent ghostliness not prove sufficiently off-putting. should the luminescent ghostliness not prove sufficiently off-putting. We will also need to spread a few rumours on shore to give renewed vigour to the legend of the Flying Dutchman.

Perhaps the remaining passengers from the Honselage deck that you've fished out of the water can be convinced to participate. After the trials they've endured, their minds will be marvellously malleable. We will whisper in their ears and then set them ashore under cover of night. Mr. Gord, sir. Sorry, I mean Captain Avery, sir. Three points of bumbo and a plate of French fancy.

Good lad. Now piss off. Look at that. They're in the shape of tiny ships. Oh, how darling. So let me get this straight. You want me to be the captain of tiny ships. Oh, how darling. So let me get this straight. You want me to be the captain of a ghost ship? To dine on fine victuals once again.

It's been too long. Mr Boyd, you really are an excellent cook. Yes, that's what I am. To go back to the matter in hand, Mr. Boyd, you shall have to heave the Moogle treasure over the side. You what? Well, you certainly can't spend it. And you certainly don't want to be caught with it either.

I mean, perhaps you could keep a few of the smaller items, ones that can be melted down in a discreet crucible. Otherwise, over the side it goes, I'm afraid. Plippity-plop. Ploppity-what? Well, we can pick it up from the seabed when the heat dies down, say in a

couple of hundred years. Let us call it a deferred payment. A couple of hundred years. Let us call it a deferred payment. A couple of hundred... So it's true? What Brenda said about you? We should have a word with that woman, Brenda. Boyd,

we should make haste to the island of Nassau to obtain supplies. You can drop us off while we're there. Yeah. I suppose. Now, what's the matter? Why so glum? Don't you like the plan?

I'll still be captain. Yes, that's right. Captain Hendrik van der Decken. Can you do a Dutch accent? I mean, it is one of the tricky ones. Perhaps you could employ one or two members of the Hansel Arshtek as crew. They could teach you. But I don't want to be captain. I want to be cook.

Oh, I see. Well, a ship must have a captain, Mr Boyd. Might one of the other lads wish to assume the position? Then you can be ship's cook again. One of these lads. Run a ghost ship. I barely trust them to make a cheese sandwich but our captain needs certain qualities a sharp mind a thrust in nature the ability to carry off a ruffled shirt well can't you do both captain and cook that's what i've been doing and it doesn't work do you know how little time i've had in the kitchen this past year these french French fancies, I didn't do them. I had to entrust my recipe to one of the lads and hope for the best. But they're excellent. I make them better.

Better than this? Look at that fondant anchor, it's all wonky. To disappear requires a certain degree of sacrifice, Mr Boyd. But to sacrifice who I am? That is literally the essence of assuming a new identity, yes. But, um, let me

think. Perhaps there is another solution. One which is the same, but different. Think of a ship. Agile, flexible, unfixed. A generator of wealth.

A place and a means to establish oneself. And yet, an unestablished place. Aye. Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting? Think of it. The ability to travel with stealth across considerable distances. Loyal staff. Somewhere I could work away from prying bureaucrats. With excellent on-site storage and efficient waste disposal.

And the sea air does seem to agree with us. Well, hang on Somewhere you could work here You want to work here on my ship a ghost ship? to spirit clients away undetected Untraceable and exceptionally well-fed wait wait a second. Wait a second. We would need to dictate the ship's course Of course, we will have to be in charge.

Luckily, I do look good in a ruffled shirt. You'd be captain. Well, we would take it in turns, I think. One month on, one month off. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Hmm, and what sort of menu would a good captain's want to adorn their table? Oh, surprises, Boyd. Expand our palates.

Discover new and thrilling flavours from each place we visit. What do you say, man? A new identity as a ghost chef awaits, if you want it. Would you and your lads work for us? Ha-ha! Yes! Abso-fucking-lutely! Ha-ha! That a boy! There would, of course, be a contract to sign.

Stay tuned for the epilogue, but first, the credits. This episode was dedicated to Tim McMcmackin and featured toby williams as henry avery alan bergen as the interviewer hemi yiroham as kozlovsky julia c thorne as alvina benjamin noble as derrick the pirate lawrence owen as the captain and bosun torkney g ondero as a crewmate and benjamin noble law Owen and Togni G. Ondero as pirates. The episode was written by Lindsay Sharman with story editing by Philip Thorne and Einstein Ulzburg-Braga, sound design by Eli Hamada-McElveen, music by Frederick Barden, direction by Philip Thorne and Einstein Braga and dialogue editing by Philip Thorne.

Production assistance by Mati Patsival and graphic design by Anders Pedersen. If the show brings you joy and you want to help us keep making episodes, consider leaving a tip for new episodes. You can do that by visiting ameliapodcast.com, clicking on support the show and choosing a Patreon tier that makes sense for you. If you tip us with $2 per episode, thank you so much. If you tip us with $5 per new episode, thank you, we're so chuffed and we will make all our bonus content available to you. And if you tip us with $20 or more, wow, you are making a substantial difference to our lives and we will give you a shout out on the show. Speaking of which, thank you to our incredible super patrons. That's Celeste

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Did we run ashore? I am sorry, but I cannot see anything in this fog. It is thick as pea soup. Yes, and not the good kind that Boyd makes with plenty of crispy bacon. Where are we? Liar ice. Sweet as a nut. Hey, lads, scoop up some of that and make us some iced bumbo. Chop, chop. we're all thirsty.

We are either very far south or very far north. That storm really blew us off course. What is that? What? That, on top of the iceberg. It's moving. Well, hello there. the iceberg it's moving get away get away from me can't you not see what it is it is a strange-looking bird that's all captain dead I do you not recognize it? I do not, sir. I don't think so. It is black and white. It is nothing like a man. I or a swan. And I want, or maybe...

It's a mave bird, Captain. It is a mave bird.