Treasure Island

Tintin (and Snowy) and the captain head off to find some treasure

Red Rackham’s Treasure by Hergé

As I was saying, Tintin and his friend Captain Haddock had, before this book begins, not too long ago been on a treasure hunt. Tintin found an old parchment inside a miniature ship — copy of the ship captained by Haddock’s ancestor — and after that, the captain and the young reporter (and the latter’s dog, Snowy) had to struggle their way through a tangle of competing interests, pickpockets and model ship collectors to come to their final, inescapable conclusion: that the former captain by the name of Haddock had indeed procured a treasure, of the kind that pirates got.

And a second conclusion: that they ought to set off to the point of the map where his ship, the Unicorn, was said to be and to rest. There to find treasure on an island, perhaps.

We join the action now with the three of them (the captain, Tintin and Snowy) preparing their voyage, which is to take place on a rather large ship, the Sirius. That ship’s quite big just for those three, and a cook. It must be filled with other eccentric characters, as indeed it proves to be.

When the news leaks that Tintin and company are off on a treasure hunt, they are besieged — verily besieged — by treasure hunters. Some of them claim ancestry or some spiritual connection to Red Rackham, the pirate whose treasure the elder Haddock captain may have hijacked. Others of them claim to be of use, of vital use, to any expedition. It would be foolish — most foolish — to set sail without them.

One of those hangers-on and solicitors is a character we’re likely to see more of later: a Professor Calculus. Calculus is, like many mad or absent-minded scientists in fiction, a combination of capable and inept. He is deeply, deeply deaf — although that deafness may be selective. Calculus drives the captain maddest of all. He is also — Calculus, that is, not the captain — deeply sold on the idea of dowsing. He has a pendulum, like a hypnotist might, and thinks that if he swings it, it will surely lead them to the treasure.

So far, so crackpot. But that’s not everything. Calculus has another trick up his sleeve: a remarkable midget submarine — a submarine in the shape of a shark. An incredible thing for one little man who can’t hear to have designed and built all by himself. And one that will become remarkably useful — and perilous — later in the story.

And finally, the ship’s roll is completed by the introduction of the two detectives: Thompson and Thomson. One of the villains of the previous book has escaped, they say, and so it’s vitally important that this expedition is protected from danger and harm.

Thus we — the two detectives most famous for falling over and hitting ourselves on our heads — will protect you. No harm will come to you if you’re with us.

Pause a little now for some comic relief. Calculus and the captain have a proper set-to, as the latter demands that the professor exit his boat. We don’t need your submarine, he says, not least if — for instance — you decide to empty my crates of genuine scotch whisky in order to store it.

The professor responds to this rejection by first affecting not to get it, and later by stowing away on a lifeboat and going along anyway, certain he hasn’t heard any objection to his presence.

And the second piece of comic relief concerns Snowy, now in post as ship’s dog. Every few frames of the early journey, the ship’s cook storms out of his galley saying that someone has pinched the biscuits, or someone has nicked this or that.

Calculus, of course, stowing away on a lifeboat, has stolen the biscuits. As we later find out. But the cook doggedly blames Snowy each time.

Eventually, however, the cook says that a whole chicken has been stolen. And it really is the last straw, the end of the line for that mutt.

Tintin and the captain look for Snowy, thunderstruck, and in so doing, the captain asks the cook if he actually saw the dog make off with the chicken.

Well, I didn’t exactly see that, the cook sheepishly says, and all of a sudden, the captain has a change of heart. Perhaps the dog is innocent, after all. Wouldn’t do to call a man guilty without proof he’s anything other than innocent. (Cut to the next frame: this one showing Snowy demolishing what remains of a roast chicken.)

So, to recap, our heroes are en route to find an island, a hidden island, that is not on any of their maps. They think there will be a hidden treasure there; a treasure and a sunken ship from hundreds of years before.

And eventually — to the great satisfaction of this reader — they find it: they find island and sunken ship. The ship is at the bottom of the sea, of course, and must be reached by diving down (antiquated diving suit having been donned) to survey its wreck and ruin. And the island — a treasure island, as we’ve previously established — contains the possibility of many harms, of many threats to man and dog.

The underwater sections of this book are drawn with great lavishness. Think of a sunken ship — a pirate ship, in effect. Think of the treasure chests, the bottles of unopened rum, the the cutlasses and shredded silks — and think of all of it patrolled by sharks. Real sharks, of course — and shark-shaped submarines, like the one Tintin takes to, so that he might find out the truth.

Think of that. It’s a real treat.