My eyes snapped open, and I sat bolt upright, sweat pouring off of my brow.

“Where in the name of cockery am I?” I yelled, leaping to my feet, letting a filthy cotton bed-sheet fall to the ground as I did. I attempted to survey my strange surroundings, but the room appeared to be spinning quite rapidly around me. I waited until the room had the damned decency to stop revolving, and then I dashed to a set of steel bars ahead of me, and began hollering for attention.

“Room service!” I snapped. “Room service! Hello? Excuse me? ROOM SERVICE?”

I felt an arm pull me gently away from the bars. It was Botter, my man-servant. I almost clouted him, but he raised his hands and stopped me.

“My lord,” he said softly, “you’re in prison. Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember a thing?”

I racked my brains in an attempt to pluck any random memories that might hold some clue as to how I wound up incarcerated in such a manner. I drew a blank.

“I remember…leaving England,” I replied slowly.

“Is that all?” Botter asked, somewhat incredulously. “That was almost a month ago, milord.”

“Shit.” I said, blankly. “I think I left a gas-light on in the mansion.”

“We are in America, now, milord. We arrived yesterday, you see, but you were rather drunk and so we – “

“Drunk! Ah, that would explain it, then!” I exclaimed, somewhat relieved. “For a moment there I thought I was going senile. My great uncle, Hercules Likely, went quite mad at my age, you know. Have I ever told you about the time he single-handedly tried to invade Paris, with nothing but a bread stick?”

“No, milord.”

“Excellent. It is a terrible tale, and puts the Likely name in rather a bad light. Make sure I never tell it to anyone.”

Our conversation was interrupted by a jangling of keys, and we turned to face a police-man slowly opening the door to the cell. He motioned towards us.

“You two. C’mere.” He said, rather curtly, I felt.

“I beg your pardon?” I snapped. “Are you referring to us, or have two mongrel dogs strayed in here?”

“Yeah, you two. C’mere,” the man repeated.

“My good man, I am Lord Likely. You shall refer to me as ‘your lordship’, or ‘my lord’, or not at all.” I replied, stiffly. I picked my hat up off the floor where it lay, dusted it off and put it back upon my head. Then I strode past the police-man, trying to exude an air of dignity, but noticed – rather too late – that the front of my shirt was plastered with caked-on vomit. I grimaced.

“I’m Captain Dick Jerker, of the New York Police Department. Now, here’s the deal. Your man here,” he said, motioning to Botter, giving him rather too much credit, “has saved your ass.”

“I don’t own a donkey, do I?” I asked Botter, quietly.

“Mr. Botter gave us the name of an Inspector Albert Spunkleford, of Scotland Yard, who he said would vouch for the both of you and confirm your identities. We took the liberty of acting upon this information, and surely enough, this Spunkleford guy backed your story.”

“Jolly good. Then you should know who the Hell I am, and let us be on our way, lest I clobber you.”

“Listen, Lickley,” Jerker continued. “Your hifalutin title might impress folks back in England, but it doesn’t mean a shit to us, okay? If I had my way, I’d shut your ass away for years for assaulting my men and being drunk in charge of a pirate ship. But someone has stepped forward to take you into their care, and assures me you won’t be causing my ass any more problems in my city.”

“Oh! And who might this ‘someone’ be?” I asked. “And why are you so obsessed with asses? Are you rather partial to a bit of bestiality, or something?”

Captain Jerker’s face tensed up with rage, but he was stopped from throwing a punch by a voice cutting through the air, coming from the end of the corridor.

“I’ll take over from here, Officer,” the voice said. I turned to face the speaker, but his face was obscured by shadows. However, as he stepped forward, and his waxed black hair, chiselled jawline, proud features and sparkling eyes came into view, I had no doubts as to who my saviour was.

“Ludlow!” I cheered, rushing over and shaking my brother’s hand vigourously.

“Hello, old boy!” Ludlow beamed. “You know, when I heard a drunken lunatic had steered a pirate ship right into the docks of New York City, I knew it had to be you! How the devil are you?”

“I’d be rather better if I was in a considerably classier environment, with fresh clothes and a glass of whisky in my hand!” I replied.

“Ha!” Ludlow cheered, clapping his hands together. “Same old Lordy. Well, let’s get you over to my house and see if we can’t sort you out, eh?

“Marvelous!” I exclaimed. “I don’t suppose you would happen to have a kennel for my man-servant too, would you?”

Ludlow and I roared, and slapped each other’s backs heartily. As we laughed, Jerker coughed and waved some papers in Ludlow’s direction.

“Now, sir, you just have to sign these papers and then…” he began.

“I don’t have to do anything, Jerk-Off!” Ludlow shouted, then he burst into uproarious laughter once more. I joined in, although I did not fully understand the bizarre American colloquialisms being bandied about by my brother.

“Quite. So… stick that up your donkey’s arse!” I adjoined, jabbing at Jerker’s chest with my finger. “You cock-face.”

Ludlow let forth with another gale of laughter, and delivered another slap upon my back. I smiled, and responded in kind, albeit a little bit harder, for Ludlow had slightly creased my coat with his back-slapping. Jerker, meanwhile, growled at me, causing me to recoil slightly.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Ludlow said, reassuringly. “I am quite pally with the Mayor of New York, doncha know? I sometimes lease him my summer-house, and on the odd occasion, my wife. Anyway, I shall go and get the carriage ready for you, Lordy. I will see you out front!” Ludlow disappeared through a pair of double-doors, leaving me alone with Jerker.

“Your little brother can’t watch you twenty-four-seven, y’know.” The police-man snarled. “And when you put a foot wrong, I’ll be there to put my foot up your ass. I’m warning you, Likely, your ass is mine. MINE.”

I smiled, and tipped my hat politely.

“You shall have to buy me dinner first,” I said, then departed, with Botter following on.

I had only been in America for less than a day, now, but already I had made one mortal enemy. And, sadly, he was not to be the only one.

- Lord Likely.

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