Deep in the Southern Ocean near the Antarctic Peninsula, a happy pod of humpback whales were ‘spy hopping’ and splashing with their enormous pectoral fins. It was almost time for their annual ten thousand kilometre migration to Hervey Bay, Australia, for the breeding season. 

Humpbacks were huge whales (about the size of a semi-trailer) and yet despite their size, they were able to leap right out of the water, sometimes just for fun. They played with their friends the minke whales as they twirled and splashed around under the majestic ice-flows. 

Not far from where the whales were playing, in the shadows of an enormous iceberg, a grey, musky-smelling, miserable pirate boat was anchored. The boat creaked and groaned, as rusty bolts and crusty barnacles vibrated to the gentle swell of the ocean. 

BONES, GROT, SNOT and PONG, the smelly vessel’s four horrible inhabitants, ignored the spectacular sight of humpbacks leaping out of the water. They were too engrossed in their important meeting. 

They sat in the musky galley of their rusty boat, studying a huge map of the Antarctic waters. Their galley was where they ate, washed, slept and had messy parties. It was also home to many fat rats and tiny bugs, living on the food scraps the pirates left behind on unwashed dinner plates.

“Why are we killing whales?” inquired Grot again, belching after gobbling down an enormous fish too fast, and taking a large gulp of foul-smelling wine.

“For scientific research . . . !” said Snot, pounding his horrible fist onto the table. 

“Science?” repeated Grot, wiping his forearm across his face to clean runaway bits of wine, food and snot that were stuck just above his top lip.

“Yeah, we kill whales to save them from themselves!” grunted Bones, who had been sharpening an enormous, scary-looking knife. 

“So killing whales . . . is a good thing?” asked Grot again, trying not to show he was still very confused. 

Grot was the biggest and strongest of the pirates and he could lift very heavy things, even though he was a bit clumsy. They couldn’t run the pirate ship without him. 

“Whales are their own worst enemy,” mumbled Pong who spent most of his time listening and keeping his thoughts to himself. 

“I thought WE were their worst enemy,” inquired Grot, puzzled, taking another huge gulp of his horribly sour drink. 

“WE ARE!” roared the others, laughing and pushing each other about. 

“I thought we’re not allowed to kill humpback whales?” queried Grot, still confused. 

This surprised the others, as it was the cleverest thing anyone had said all day. 

“Minke whales . . . we are allowed to kill minke whales,” roared Snot pounding his horrible fist again, knocking over Bone’s drink of smelly, stale beer. 

“Minke whales are like the blowflies of the ocean,” growled Pong, “we need to crush them.” 

“Yes, yes . . . ,” agreed Bones, “crush them, crush them, crush them!” he replied, getting rather worked up. 

“I thought we harpooned whales?” muttered Grot scratching his head.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” grumbled Bones. 

“NO, you said crush them!” repeated Grot, quite certain he had heard correctly. 

“Like THIS,” suddenly Bones crushed a poor cockroach that had been nibbling on crumbs that were scattered near the edge of the pirates’ table, “KERRSPLATTT!” 

“MWUAHA, HA, HAAA !” roared the horrible crew with laughter, as the poor cockroach lay splattered all over the grimy dinner table. 

“What if a humpback whale gets in our way?” inquired Grot who, in between gulps of foul smelling wine, was really asking the smartest questions. 

“WHAM, bad luck for them,” growled Snot, who pounded the table with his fist, crushing another poor cockroach. Two more cockroaches scurried to safety, hiding under Grot’s armpit. 

“HA, HA, HAAA !” roared the horrible pirates again, who thought that crushing cockroaches was very clever and funny. 

“What is the plan?” muttered Bones, who was getting tired of talking. 

“Let’s trap them, where they play together near the ice-flow,” roared Snot determinedly. 

“They’ll never escape if we block the entrance!” growled Pong. 

“Sharpen the harpoon, let’s get ready,” yelled Bones “we’ve got whale research to do!” 

“Research . . . ?” inquired Grot, frowning and looking puzzled. 

Bones, Snot and Pong ignored him and roared with laughter! 

Indeed, Snot was correct, not too far away the humpback whales, who loved singing and eating krill, swam in a small bay surrounded by ice. Their friends, the Adelie penguins and fur seals, would cheer each time they gracefully leapt out of the water. 

Minke whales, though much smaller than the humpbacks, loved to join in the fun. 

And it just so happened that amongst those humpback whales, frolicking in that icy Antarctic bay, were Mudpoo’s whale friends; the ones that he had taught his song to during their last adventure in Hervey Bay. 

Little did these singing and splashing whales know that their lives were in perilous danger!