Lance and I watched for a few more minutes as the posse of men rampaged through the Red Rump tribe’s campsite, then we withdrew from our vantage point atop Cockshaft Canyon to formulate a plan to overcome this group of horseback bastards.

“I say we go down there, guns ablazin’, and shoot each an’ every one of ‘em dead,” Lance snarled, drawing his pistol from it’s holster.

“An excellent plan, Lance, however it falls down on one crucial point. There are but two of us, and at least twelve of them. By the time we had shot off our first round we’d be riddled so full of holes they could use our corpses to strain spaghetti.”

“Oh. Right.” Lance fell silent, his brow knotted in deep concentration. “Okay, then, what about we get a big ol’ cannon, wheel it up to the edge of the canyon and BOOM! Blow ‘em all to kingdom come?”

“Hmmm.” I mused. “I think that plan is possibly even more asinine than your first.”

“Ass-what?” said Lance.

“Never mind,” I sighed. “Now do be quiet, and let me think so that I may formulate a plan that is not completely and utterly bent.”

My silent ruminations were not to be forthcoming, however, as a loud voice broke into my thoughts from the valley below.

“LIKELY!” came the voice. “LIKELY!”

“Is he talking to you or me?” I said to Lance. Lance shrugged.

“LIKELY! I KNOW YOU’RE UP THERE! JUST COME ON DOWN, AND WE’LL HAVE A LITTLE TALK, MAN-TO-MAN!”

I froze. I recognised that voice from somewhere. The lilting, sing-song cadence and slight Welsh accent…

Then, I had a flashback.

I shan’t bore you with the details of my flashback, except to say it was in black and white, entirely in slow motion, and surprisingly dull. The upshot of it all was that I had indeed heard this voice from someone somewhere before, and that somewhere was aboard the HMS Bastard, where I had began my journey to America, and the someone was it’s captain – Huw Anchor.

What in the name of Thor’s mighty hammer was that swine doing here?

I crawled back to the precipice and peered over the top. Surely enough, there was the smartly-dressed form of the captain, flanked by two other familiar faces, Renchard Dirigible, his second-in-command and Jean des Lunettes, the awful Frenchman I had met while dining with the captain aboard the HMS Bastard.

“Well bugger me sideways,” I exclaimed quietly. “I have met these fiends before! What a small world it is, eh Lance?” There was no reply. “Lance?”

My finely-tuned sense of danger told me something was amiss, so I gently pulled out the antique pistol Ludlow had given me, and quickly spun round, holding the gun out on front of me. I saw Lance, on his knees, head bowed, in front of a burly figure who was pointing a rifle at the back of my poor brother’s head.

“Mr. Anchor wishes to see you both,” the figure growled. “Dead or alive, it makes no difference.”

“Tell him I shall see him…IN HELL!” I roared, squeezing the trigger of the pistol. Nothing happened, save for a dull thud as the hammer clicked into place. I silently cursed Ludlow for having lumbered me with a useless weapon, and gently rose to my feet, hands in the air.

“Or, we can see him now, I suppose,” I sighed.

“Oh! Your lordship! How lovely to see you again!” Anchor cried, as we entered the campsite. “It has been much too long. I do hope there are no hard feelings about the whole trying-to-kill-you-by-ploughing-our-ship-into-an-iceberg business?”

“Oh, not at all, Mr. Wanker. The sea-breeze did me the world of good, I shouldn’t wonder. Now if you do not mind, can you please tell me what in the name of Prince Albert’s golden cock-ring is going on here?”

“Certainly,” said Anchor, sitting himself down on one of the tribe’s comfortable sofas. “It is the least I can do, before I have you shot dead by my accomplice Herman, over there,” he indicated to the burly fellow behind me, who jabbed his rifle into my back on cue.

“Charmed,” I said.

“You are a well-travelled man, are you not, your lordship? I too travel a lot, but alas all I ever get to see of the various countries I encounter is the coast, before I am off again on another voyage. So, when my annual holiday came around this year, I decided to take in some of the sights of this great nation, and get to know it a little better. My holiday took me to some rather obscure, peculiar little places, such as a small town called Around Here, in Dinkle County. My! That was a rather colourful little township, I must say. Anyway, I was relaxing in a bar there, when I overheard two men engaged in a hushed discussion about the recent discovery of a large stash of gold, and what to do with it. One of these men was your brother, here, the other was an old fellow who seemed to be the one who had made the discovery.

“Now, an opportunity like this does not come along every day, your lordship, and I decided I wanted this gold for myself. So I assembled together this group of easily-bribed men from the town, and we paid this old man a visit, with a view to wringing the location of the gold from him. Unfortunately, he was not forthcoming with the information, so I…”

“You killed him, ya lily-livered piece o’ shit!” snapped Lance, angrily. Anchor motioned to Herman, who responded by smashing Lance in the back of the head with his rifle butt. Lance howled in pain.

“Please, do not interrupt me when I am telling my story. It is really very rude, you know,” Anchor droned. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes! So, I decided to terminate the discussion with the old man, and thought I might be able to learn the location of the gold from his partner, the incredibly rude Lance Likely, here. Unfortunately, tracking Lance down was rather tricky, and despite my best efforts he remained an elusive character. Eventually I had to give up and return to England, and back to work.

“But happily, Lady Luck seemed to smile down upon me, for when I returned to duty on the HMS Bastard I saw that one of my passengers was another Likely – your good self, Lord Likely. This could not be mere coincidence, I thought, and I reasoned that this man had to be connected with the other Likely in United States. So, I informed the most trusted members of my crew about the whole affair, offered them a share of the bounty and together we decided to ransack your cabin to glean further information. We abducted your man-servant so that you would think the sole purpose of the raid on your lodgings was for a kidnapping, and would not get suspicious of our real intentions, and then we turned the place over. There we found the letter of distress from yet anther Likely, your American half-brother Ludlow, so we made a note of his address and decided that when we got to America, we would pay him a visit.”

“Why didn’t you just follow me?” I asked.

“Mr. Dirigible here informed me that you were somewhat of an adventurer and detective, who had defeated countless criminals and miscreants over the years. We reasoned that only you could possibly scupper our plans, and we would fare better leaning on this Ludlow fellow instead. So, we agreed to sink the HMS Bastard with you on it, lest you interfere with our plans.”

“Of course, that was after your first attempt on my life failed, when I overcame your hired goon Doctor Corkscrews,” I remarked.

“Doctor who?” Anchor asked, genuinely surprised. “We did not hire anyone to kill you, your lordship. We already had our scheme all set out.”

I was confused. I had been sure Doctor Corkscrews was part of this terrible business, yet he was not. I was reminded of an earlier mystery, where my carriage had been shunted off the road by persons unknown, and where I had received a note threatening violence upon my lordly form, of which both instances had proved to be unrelated to the mystery at hand. Was someone else following me and trying to end my precious life? And if so, who? And why would anyone wish harm upon my wondrous self? This sort of thing was happening far too frequently for my liking, and further contemplation would be needed. However, for now I had to focus on my current predicament.

“Anyway, your lordship, thinking we had finally dispatched you, we headed off to see your brother Ludlow, hoping to persuade him to tell us how to find the ever-elusive Lance.”

“Ha! That is where you miscalculated, I fear. Ludlow would not give up such information freely. Blood is thicker than water, and – “

“Oh, you are quite right,” Anchor interrupted. “He did not give it up freely. But every man has his price, your lordship.”

“Not Ludlow,” I sneered. “He is a good, honest and decent man. If he told you anything, I will eat my hat.”

“Well, you shall dine well tonight then,” Anchor said dryly. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Likely?”

An all-too familiar figure stepped out from the shadows, his head lowered in shame. It was Ludlow. I felt my heart sink.

“I…I am sorry, Lordy,” Ludlow said, avoiding my furious gaze. “They offered me a lot of money, which helped me to get my book published…I just couldn’t refuse…please, forgive me.”

“Oh, Ludlow,” I shook my head sadly. “You utter, utter cunt.”

- Lord Likely.

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Now there were two Likelys at the campsite, my glorious self, of course, and my half-brother Lightnin’ Lance Likely. This meant that now there was twice the sexual charisma, and double the loveliness, so to prevent us from being ravished by the cock-hungry braves of the Red Rump tribe, we decided to conduct our business elsewhere, namely at the top of Cockshaft Canyon.

We followed a small path up to the top of the canyon, from where we had an excellent aerial view of the campsite, and where I could quite clearly see my man-servant Botter being dragged into a tent by three Indians, to be roughly buggered in return for shelter for the night. An entirely reasonable deal, I felt.

I lit a cigarette and turned to face my brother, who was sat on a large rock swigging noisily from his hip-flask.

“Here,” he said, thrusting the receptacle towards me. “Have some fire-water.”

“Fire-water?” I asked. I took the flask and cautiously took a sip. A familiar, warm glow filled my chest.

“Whisky!” I beamed, taking another, longer sip. “You’ve clearly inherited an appreciation for the finer things in life from our father.”

“S’about the only thing I got from that asswipe,” Lance replied gloomily, taking his hip-flask back. “He wasn’t much of a father figure in my life, y’know. He knocked up my ma, then shot off without so much as a how d’ya do. Then he reappears five years later, jus’ to get him some more action. Didn’t even stop to see how his son was. I mean…what a butt-pipe.”

“Now come along,” I snapped. “I cannot stand here and listen to you bad-mouthing our father. I shall not hear you belittle Lord Eustace Likely, one of the finest, bravest and frankly randiest men I have ever known. Your words make me feel quite nauseous, and if you persist I shall have no option but to violently insert my fist into your ruddy teeth!“

“Oh sure. I guess you would kiss his ass, seein’ as how you got the sweetest deal. You got to grow up with him. I spent more time in his fuckin’ nutsack then I ever did in his company. The man was a dick.”

“Right! I have had enough! Put your fists up, you scoundrel, and prepare to be battered!” I shouted, circling Lance with my own fists held aloft. Lance looked up at me, slowly, a wry smile etched across his lips.

“Gladly.” He said, then as quick as a flash he sprung from his seated position and was upon me, raining blows about my torso. I flailed wildy in return, caught off-guard by the rapidity of his attack, until I managed to lay a glorious left-hook to Lances’ face, sending him sprawling. I picked myself up, and dusted myself down, only to then find myself on the receiving end of a punch to the abdomen that knocked the air out of me. As I doubled-over, winded, Lance came at me again, swinging for my beautiful face. I dodged his first punch, but the second caught me squarely on the chin, causing me to stumble backwards, tripping over a rock as I did, resulting in me falling flat on my back. Lance smiled and came at me again, but this time I was ready, and I swept his feet from underneath him with my leg, bringing Lance crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.

We both laid on the ground in silence for a few minutes, exhausted.

“Thanks. I needed that.” Lance said eventually, lighting a rather sorry-looking cigar. “That was better than sex.”

“I suppose it would be if all your sexual conquests had four legs and a tail,” I replied.

“Hey! I like fuckin’ cattle! Is that really so wrong?” Lance wailed.

“In a word: yes,” I said. “In two words: Christ, yes!“

Lance chuckled, then sat up. “Sorry about that scuffle, back then. I have some issues to work out, I guess. Especially with our father. It’s jus’…I mean…I got jack-shit, an’ look at you! You got his money, his title, his estate and…” Lance paused, and gazed up at the stars mournfully. “An’ his love.”

Tears welled up in Lance’s eyes, causing me to feel quite uncomfortable. I never react well around such blatant shows of emotion, more so if it is a man with whom I am dealing. I know that I am supposed to say something, or do something, but I am never entirely sure what these things are supposed to be. Why couldn’t people be more like me, I wondered, and keep all their emotions bottled up and then unleash them through a violent thrashing upon one’s man-servant?

I hauled myself up on my elbows, and regarded the miserable form of my half-brother.

“Pull yourself together, man!” I snapped, jumping to my feet. “I did not come all this way, and risk having my anus perforated by queer Indians, just to watch you weeping like a ruddy child. I came here because I heard you were in trouble, and I wanted to help you. And why should I do that? Because, despite all your whining, you ARE a Likely, and we must stick together. Blood is thicker than water, Lance, and the Likely blood is thicker still, and ninety-five per cent proof, to boot. Together, we can achieve anything, and shag anyone. Now, are you going to sit there moping like a complete and utter useless twat-stick, or are you going to be a cocking man and sort this sorry mess out once and for all?”

Lance looked up at me through teary eyes. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, then smiled.

“You had me at, ‘anus’,” he grinned.

From there on in, Lance told me about the trouble he had found himself in. He freely admitted to the cattle-buggery, and a few bank raids, but he swore blind that he did not kill anyone, and that he had been framed for murder.

“Listen, one day, I’m hidin’ out in the woods near Jizzballsville, lyin’ low after pullin’ a job on the city’s bank, an’ one day I meet this crazy ol’ drunk guy, who swears he’s found a whole buncha gold in the mines nearby. I think this guy’s a kook, right, but I go check it anyway, and shit, I couldn’t believe it, the ol’ man was right. The mines were lined with gold, tonnes of the stuff, just lyin’ there, waiting. No-one else knows about it, right? So me an’ this ol’ fellah, we agree to work together to strip the mine of all this gold, and go fifty-fifty on it. It’s a good deal, right? But then one night, I’m at the ol’ man’s house an’ I hear a commotion outside. So, I go an’ check it out and there’s this bunch of men pushin’ the ol’ guy about, askin’ him where the gold is, and so on. The ol’ man ain’t talkin’, though – ‘cuz we had a deal, see – an’ this just pisses these guys off an’ one of them just shoots the poor ol’ guy dead. Bang. I figure they’ll come fer me next, so I scarper outta there, go back to the mine and load up mah horse with as much gold as the ol’ girl can carry, an’ I go into hidin’ again. Later on, I found out I’m wanted fer the murder of that poor, dead ol’ guy. I think them guys are tryin’ to weed me out, get a hold a’ me an’ my gold. But they ain’t gonna get it, right? Right?”

I held up a hand to Lance’s face, while putting the index finger of my other hand to my lips.

“Ssssh.” I hissed.

“What is it?” he whispered. I beckoned to him to follow me, then we crawled along to the edge of the canyon and looked down. There seemed to be nothing astray, save for a distant noise that sounded like thunder. Lance looked at me quizzically, but before he could ask me another asinine question I had placed my finger back on my lips.

The rumbling noise got louder and louder, until a group of dark-clothed men on horseback rode into the campsite, whooping and hollering and firing pistols into the air. I looked back to Lance, who’s face had become stricken with shock.

“I fear that these gentlemen may want to have a quiet word with you, Lance,” I whispered.

- Lord Likely.

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The Red Rump tribe offered us a ride back to their camp, located in the depths of Cockshaft Canyon. Botter rode on the back of Sucking Pole‘s horse, while I had the dubious honour of riding with the tribe’s Chief, Spurting Cock.

The journey was awful, as I had not only had to contend with the intolerable heat and treacherously rocky terrain, but I also had to fend off continued lecherous advances from the over-excitable Chief. His favourite trick was to steer his horse over some particularly bumpy ground at great speed, forcing me to tighten my grip around his waist, at which point he would cry, “Oooooh! You saucy devil!” before breaking out into uncontrollable laughter. By the end of the journey I was praying for a terrible accident to befall the Indian, preferably involving a low-hanging branch, a broken leg and a pack of wild coyotes. Sadly, my prayers went unanswered.

We finally arrived at the tribe’s camp in the late evening, by which time I was considerably saddle-sore – due solely to the pressure of the saddle on my rear, I hasten to add. At no point did I allow any of the nancified natives penetrate my venerable backside.

“Welcome to Camp Camp!” cried Spurting Cock as we trotted into the campsite. I rolled my eyes.

The camp was luridly styled; the tribe’s tents were all coloured in various gaudy hues, with skulls bearing far too much make-up tied to poles flanking them. A large camp-fire acted as a centre-piece for the site, surrounded by large, comfortable, rose-coloured couches, upon which sat more gaily-coloured tribesmen, who leapt to their feet as we entered and clamoured around us in awe-struck wonder.

“My chief! You have bought us fresh meat?” said one, pawing at my leg like an over-affectionate cat.

“You shall keep your hand off of my meat,” I snapped. “Your fresh meat is over there,” I added, pointing to Botter who was half-dismounting and half-falling from his horse. The native regarded my man-servant glumly.

“He doesn’t look very fresh,” he moaned. “In fact, he looks like he has gone off.”

“Yes, he has gone off rather a few times,” I agreed, climbing down from my ride. “But that is all that is on offer. Take it or leave it.”

The Indian sighed, then sloped off towards Botter sadly.

“Take a seat, your lordship,” beamed Spurting Cock, indicating to one of the couches around the fire. I sat down gingerly on the seat. “Now, would you like to suck on my pipe?”

“I beg your pardon?“

“Peace pipe!” the Chief smiled, producing a large, wooden pipe from his belt. “Would you like to smoke the peace pipe with me?”

“If it’s all the same, I shall decline the offer, thank you,” I said, stiffly. “I shall have a cigarette, instead.”

“I must warn you, it is a great insult to refuse the peace pipe,” Spurting Cock said solemnly. “People have died for less!”

“Really?” I said, aghast.

“No! Not really! Hahahaha! You totally fell for that one, your lordship! Your face was a picture!”

I shook my head wearily, and lit a cigarette.

“Alright, let us eat now. You must be famished, your lordship!” The chief clapped his hands loudly. “Will someone go and fetch his lordship a menu – pronto!”

“A menu?” I said. “Why on Earth would you need a menu? Don’t your sort just eat raw buffalo meat?”

“Please, your lordship. We are not savages, you know. We order in a lot of food from the nearby town – salmon, veal, the finest cuts of steak, fresh vegetables – we like to eat well!”

“I stand corrected,” I replied.

“Ah, here comes the menu now!” cried the Chief, indicating towards a stunningly gorgeous young lady, with jet-black hair, beautiful brown eyes and large, round breasts. I felt my interest suddenly perk up, along with my Lord Palmerston.

“Your menu, Chief Spurting Cock,” the girl said, bending over to hand over the menu to the Chief. I allowed myself a quick glance at her pert buttocks as she did so, and hoped that I might get better acquainted with them later.

“Thank you, Titty-Titty,” the Chief said, taking the menu from the girl. “This is our special guest, Lord Likely, from England.”

“A pleasure my dear,” I said, rising to my feet and taking her hand gently in mine. She giggled timidly, her cheeks flushing scarlet. She was positively adorable, I thought, and then I softly kissed the back of her hand. As I withdrew, I became aware that a hushed silence had fallen upon the camp. As I turned around, I saw a sea of open mouths, jaws-dropping wherever I looked. I quickly realised what was up.

My Lord Palmerston was up.

Surely enough, my proud organ had also taken a liking to this pretty Indian girl, and the resulting erection was causing quite a stir in the camp.

“Well, your lordship!” Exclaimed Chief Spurting Cock. “I was going to show you our totem-pole later, but quite frankly I don’t think it will measure up to your own.”

“My apologies, Chief, you have not been introduced. This here is my Lord Palmerston, my closest companion. Evidently he is rather taken with this young lady, as am I.”

“Titty-Titty?” snorted the Chief. “Well, I suppose she’s alright, if you like that sort of thing. We keep her around to foster our children, for we wish our tribe to carry on long after we are gone. Although, having said that, we have only managed to raise one child so far, as only Pounding Ass there could find the nerve to penetrate this vile, cockless hussy.”

“It was a moment of weakness,” whined Pounding Ass forlornly.

“It is alright, Pounding Ass,” Chief Spurting Cock said reassuringly to the saddened brave, patting his back gently.

“Well, maybe I might offer my services to Miss Titty-Titty here?” I asked, brushing a loose hair away from the girl’s face.

In a flash, Spurting Cock was beside me, grabbing Titty-Titty away from my reaches.

“She may lack a lovely, smooth shaft and large, round balls,” he said sternly, “but Titty-Titty is sacred to us, as the bearer of our son, Little Bender. Should any white man interfere with her, we will not hesitate to spear his gonads to the wall!”

“They will, too,” growled a drawling voice behind me. “I came this close to losing a nut myself.”

I swung round, and beheld a rather dishevelled man in a long coat, half his face obscured under the shadow cast by the large brim of his hat.

“I only managed to save mah balls by agreein’ to share some of mah gold with these fellahs. Mine must be the most expensive balls in the entire country.” The stranger smiled, and raised his head, revealing more of his face to me. The sharp, glittering eyes, proud nose and well-maintained moustache left me in no doubt as to the identity of this fellow.

“Lance!” I cried, then there was a brief pause as his words sank into my head. “Hold on…did you say gold?”

- Lord Likely.

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