by Rick Johnson
Master Nic, the proprietor, had greeted Klemés as he entered, coming over and clapping him around the shoulders, holding him close, like a brother. “Hollo, Moster Klemés! What brongs you to my humble establoshment? O don’t get a noble-monded beast here often!”
“Bringing word for the crew from the Captain,” Klemés replied, walking over to where Go Semple, the ship’s musician, was leading the singing and playing the fishbuck—a small drum made from fishskin stretched over a gourd. Looking out over the red noses and bloated cheeks of the crew, Klemés called for quiet.
As the room fell silent, Klemés said, “Now, good Sea-beasts, you know the Captain—always wantin’ to make sure that his crew are happy beasts. He’s thinkin’ that with the Rummers running the town, he’d like to give his crew some extra Good Cheer. So, the Captain is asking all of us to be on board ship for a brief meeting with plenty of Good Cheer at 2nd Call tonight. He’s askin’ us to come with our brains clear. So, please lay off the Nutter in time for your wits to dry out. Oh, and one last thing, he doesn’t have enough Good Cheer to share beyond the crew, so don’t talk about the meeting and don’t draw attention to yourselves as you board the ship.”
“By My Lost Brother’s Ghost! Wha’s the secret? Is Cap’t goin’ rogue?” one sea-beast exclaimed.
“With Rummers breathin’ threats ’n slaughter left ’n right, I’m thinkin’ the Capt’n wants us to defend the ship!” another said.
“Aye, now ain’t that jus’ like ‘r good Capt’n? Good cheer at 2nd Call.! Why, the Capt’n would wonder himself at a 2nd Call’s meetin’—must be very special good cheer, to not want to share it that bad.”
And so it went for several minutes, as one sea-beast after another expressed surprise at the strange meeting request. Finally, after he judged the comments had run their course, Klemés said, “Come, come, friendly sea-beasts! Let’s see what Good Cheer the Captain brings—it will be grand, and only a stupid barnacle-swallower would doubt that!” Turning back to Master Nic, he called, “I call our host for one more round of Nutter—and then, not a drop more! Captain needs your mind quick by 2nd Call.”
Seeing that Klemés sat down by Go Simple and joined in the singing, Master Nic said to his Assistant, “Watch and serve these good beasts for me—O’ve got to order more provosoons. These hungry beasts have eaten through my stocks far enough to leave me short for the coming days.” Then, Master Nic slipped quietly away into the back office, shutting the door carefully behind him.
Locking the door, Nic sat down at his desk and, dipping pen in ink, began to write. For some minutes, the silence was broken only the scratching of pen across paper. When he had finished, it was the most curious list of necessary provisions one could imagine. It ran thus:
Most Urgent
My Dear Colonel Snart:
I write in great haste. Something is up in the port tonight. Captain Ord has called his crew to a secret 2nd Call meeting on board ship. I don’t know the purpose, but my guess is smuggling. Ord, of course, is respected and widely trusted. Yet, secret meetings at 2nd Call are only held by mutineers, rebels, or smugglers. Of those three, Ord would most likely be the third. I know the Club Wolves are completely taken up with handling the Rummers—but if you could call a couple of Battle Stallion cruisers back from patrol, they could intercept Ord’s ship before he can get away. There is little time to lose.
With sincere fidelity,
Nic
Placing the note in an envelope, he addressed it:
Provisions Order
c/o Scurrilious Bummutter
Bummutter’s Supply
Going back into the public room, Nic handed the envelope to his assistant. “Here, see that thos get’s directly into the hands of Sucrroloous. There are some otems on the lost that only he woll know how to provode.”
As Klemés sat happily wailing away at lively sea-beast’s songs, little did he suspect—indeed, little did most in Norder Bay suspect—that Master Nic was a spy for the Monopole. The vigorous workings of the See To It Committee—the Monopole’s network of spies—included several trusted and unsuspected citizens. Master Nic’s “provisions order,” once handed to Scurrilious Bummutter, the grocer, would quickly be relayed to Colonel Snart, the Monopole.
To the good fortune of Captain Ord’s plan, it is understandably hard for an assistant always to give highest priority to a list of provisions. After all, there was so much excitement, food, and drink along the waterfront on this particular day! When an assistant has no idea of the actual importance of a note he is carrying, why should he not stop by for just a tasty bite and tiny sip? To the ill fortune of Master Nic’s warning, the brief delay in the assistant’s arrival at Bammutter’s Supply, allowed Scurrilious to step away to dinner. Having his master’s instructions well in mind, Master Nic’s assistant waited two hours for Scurrilious to return. Then he handed the envelope to the grocer. During those two hours, the Monopole missed the opportunity to send an urgent summons to the Battle Stallion cruisers patrolling for smugglers down the coast.
It was in this circumstance that, some hours later, just before 2nd Call, Ord left the gunwhale on Dainty’s Shant and went below to address his crew.
Day Three
Usually, Captain Ord held meetings of Dainty’s crew on the open deck. To assure absolute secrecy, however, Ord and Klemés agreed that this meeting would occur in the cargo hold. The hold was still mostly empty, with cargo and provisions to be loaded in the coming days. Meeting deep in the belly of the ship minimized the chance that uninvited ears might overhear the meeting.
Even in the best of weather, the hold was stifling hot and reeked of foul odors. Now, nearly two hundred sea-beasts crowded together, perspiring in buckets, amongst musty rope, tar, and boards soaked with fish oil. “This meeting will be short,” Ord began. “I called you together tonight to say that the voyage is cancelled.”
“Cancelled!” yelled one sea-beast. “Cancelled! What will I do to put silver in my pocket?”
“Yea! Yea! How will we survive?” others wailed.
Ord banged his paw down hard on a barrel. “Quiet! Wait to hear the rest of what I have to say!”
“Give the Captain his words, friends,” Klemés yelled over the din, jumping up in a fury. “You know that Captain Ord never did anything wrong against this crew. He’s not about to start now. He’s never called you sluggards, desperados, or lazy-botters, like some captains do. No, he’s always been a good and just captain. Just give him his words, then see what you think.”
The grumbling subsided and Klemés sat down. Ord smiled at his crew and continued, “You all know that a Rummer Boar ship is anchored in the harbor, waiting for Dainty’s Shant to depart. Once we have left, the Rummer Boar ship will dock and take on a cargo of Pogwagger prisoners—who will be taken to Port Newolf and sold as slaves. Now, as evil as some things are in the Norder Estates, there’s never been slaving here. There’s never been a beast, as good as any of us, sold for silver in Norder Bay. I’m not about to be part of letting it start now.”
So deep was the silence in the hold now that the breath of individual beasts could be heard. Captain Ord’s words had taken an entirely unexpected direction. Every sea-beast watched Ord intently, wondering what was coming.
“I am cancelling the voyage. Those who have invested in this voyage have shown me that they do not care that slaving is coming to Norder Bay. In fact, some think opening this port to slaving is a good thing—that it will bring sacks of gold. I cannot join in this corruption. I will not sail for them. Nor will I allow the Rummer ship to dock. I may not be able to stop slaving from coming to Norder Bay, but it will not be because I did not try!”
This was serious business. Every sea-beast knew that these were words of rebellion. Captain Ord was talking about challenging the leading merchants and authorities in the Norder Estates. This was talk that would get a beast’s neck stretched in a hangman’s noose. Serious business.
Ord moved his eyes across the crew slowly.
His look was grim, but entirely without fear. His clear eyes sparkled with friendly affection for every beast in the meeting.
He pointed to an iron box sitting on a box near him. “That box contains the silver you are due for this voyage,” he said. “Every piece of silver is in that box—I have taken nothing for myself, and I will take nothing. I’m cancelling a voyage that you depend upon, and I’m taking responsibility for that. You will be paid now, rather than at the end of the voyage. These are my own funds, so neither you, nor I, owe anything to my investors regarding what I am doing. Please step forward and Klemés will distribute equal shares to all of you. Once you have your share, I advise you to leave the ship and head off in your different directions. Things are going to get a little warm down here in a little while, and you’d best be far away when that happens.”
The crew sat in stunned silence for a few moments, until one sea-beast asked, “What are you going to do, Capt’n?”
“I’m not going to say anything more,” Ord replied. “Don’t be concerned with what I do. I want you to honestly be able to say you knew nothing. My advice to you is to take your silver and get out of Norder Bay quickly. None of you have any ties here, so there’s no reason to stay. It’s likely that Club Wolves will be coming after anyone connected with this ship—so my advice to you is to take your share and get going.”
“But, Capt’n,” the sea-beast said, “I asked you what you’re going to do, because I’m not going to take the silver. As far as I’m concerned, taking the money and skedaddling makes me just as much a blood-sucker as anyone else. I won’t have blood-sucker money near me. I’ve been sailing with you through danger enough for years, and I’m stickin’ with you in this. I want to know what we’re going to do.”
“YARRRR! YES! ME, TOO! COUNT ME IN! YARRRRRR!” The cheers and shouts came from every sea-beast. Despite Ord’s pleading and warnings, none of the crew were willing to take their share of silver and leave the ship. Ord and Klemés exchanged glances, nodding slightly to one another.
“All right,” Ord said, “you are in it now—we are in this together.” He paused and looked carefully from face to face. “Although I feel justified in what we’re going to do because I see no other honorable choice, it is also true that we are going rogue. For the first time in my life, I am stepping beyond the law. Anyone who follows me will be doing the same. If we are captured, the best we can hope for is a life sentence breaking rock at Tilk Duraow.” He paused again, allowing his words to sink in. “I give every beast in this room one last chance to take their share and leave. Anyone who stays will be in this to the end.”
No one moved. The crew stayed put, looking expectantly at Captain Ord.
“Capt’n, none of us has a home except on this ship,” a gruff Sharkict growled. “I think I speak mostly for the crew—we’ve all been driven from our homes by slaver attacks—our families slaughtered, our villages burned. It’s like the hand of destiny has torn us from our moorings and set us free to find out what we can be for this world. We’re all like a mass of iron fragments that kind of cling to you and this ship because Dainty’s the magnet that brought us together. Destiny set us free from everything we had, and it’s only you and Dainty’s Shant that sustain us. We can’t just leave—we were drawn to this ship. We are in this because we are the ship. Tell us what we’re going to do!”
“YARRRRRR! YAARRRRR! YARRRRR!”
“Very well,” Ord said, “here’s the plan—which I’ve had to change in the last two minutes because of all your cussed persistence.”
Over the next several minutes, Ord and Klemés outlined the plan for the coming operation. No longer would the main thrust of the action be to burn both vessels in the harbor. With the entire crew of Dainty’s Shant now participating in the operation, Ord made the decision to send the crew in boats to the Rummer ship and board it. Since the Rummer ship would, at worst, have a light watch and, quite likely, the watch might be drunk, the ship could be taken over easily. Rather than leave the wreckage of two burned ships in the harbor, they would sail both away. As far as Ord knew, the Battle Stallion cruisers, which could mount the only serious threat from sea, were far down the coast. It was possible they could make a clean escape, having crippled the slaver operations. They would pick up Angelana and S’Might from the beach and set sail for the Sharkict islands.
When they had finished outlining the operation, Captain Ord cast one long glance across the assembled crew. “Now mates,” he said, “there’s no time to lose. You know what we’re about. We’ll not be raising sail—can’t attract attention. Release the moorings and let the tide float us away from the dock. When we’re out in the harbor a bit, run out the sweeps—row until we’re well out. Muffle the oarlocks. Quiet as she goes. No light, except for lanterns, shielded from sight. When we are well clear, if no alarm sounds on shore, Klemés will take some of the crew and board the Rummer. By the power of the Ancients, may we take her without a tussle. Now, here we go!”
All about Dainty’s Shant, the crew dispersed to their stations. The ship came to life. Mooring ropes silently slipped loose. So stealthily was the anchor weighed, that even those on board were barely aware it happened. Crew went silently to positions at the sweep ports. Captain Ord took the wheel. Klemés moved from station to station, providing direction as needed, getting the operation underway. With the tide running out, Dainty’s Shant silently drifted out into the harbor. Several tense minutes passed. Every beast listened and watched for signs that anyone ashore had noticed their activity. In the deeps of a moonless night, however, with raucous chaos consuming all attention on shore, there was no sign that anyone observerd Dainty’s departure.
As the ebb tide carried his ship into the harbor, Ord continued watching the shore. When the darkness around him felt thick enough to conceal new activity, he gave the word to run out the sweeps. As the sweeps began to bite, Dainty’s progress came under control, rather than a directionless drift. Captain Ord steered the ship toward the outer reaches of the bay where the Rummer vessel lay anchored.
“So far it goes well,” Ord said to Klemés, who was now standing at his side.
“Yes,” Klemés agreed, “if the Ancients hold with us a bit longer, we won’t need to decorate a hanging noose tomorrow.”
When the faint outline of the Rummer ship was visible in the darkness, Ord sent word for the sweeps to hold the ship’s position. At Klemés’ call, five boats were launched. Taking forty of the most tested sea-beasts with him, he led the boarding party off into the darkness.
“Do ya reckon they’s don’t stand watch tanight?” a sea-beast asked Klemés.
“Hush up, you bloody fool!” Klemés whispered. “Not another word out of you, or you’ll spoil the whole thing! They keep their watches sure enough, but perhaps the party spirit has got to them tonight.”
Klemés watched the Rummer ship closely as the boats drew near. No lookout paced the deck. No apparent watch was set. Stilling the oars, the boarding boats moved into position. Klemés’ boat moved in first, drifting to a point directly below the stern. Once he secured his boat to the rudder chains by a rope, the other boats followed. Open windows of a cabin beckoned about twelve feet above. At Klemés’ signal, a sea-beast hooked the window ledge with a boathook, quietly assuring that the iron head caught securely.
“Now then, Mister Sweeze,” Klemés said, pointing to the boathook, “you’re the quickest among us—skitter up and peek in at the window. Quiet as ever you can—just make sure no one’s stirring in there.”
Sweeze, as agile and quick as can be, went up the slender shaft paw-over-paw. Taking a quick look around the dark cabin, he saw no beasts moving about. Motioning for the rest to follow, he slithered over the ledge into the cabin.
“The Ancients favor the brave,” Klemés said quietly as he took hold of the boathook. Climbing quickly, he was nearing the cabin window, when hideous screams rang out from the cabin! Pulling himself rapidly to the window, Klemés found his shipmate battling a huge snake wind
ing its coils around his body. For a moment, Klemés was paralyzed by the sight of the massive serpent. The skin of the snake was gradually turning red as its coils tightened around Sweeze. “Red Glove!” he gasped, his words barely audible. On his voyages across the world, Klemés had heard of the notoriously deadly Red Glove, but never seen one before. The snake’s normally dust-colored skin turned an iridescent red when it went on the attack. As the coils tightened, the color spread through the snake’s skin in shooting red flashes. Terrifying to behold, Klemés had heard tales of people standing transfixed at the sight rather than rushing to the aid of some poor creature caught in the Glove’s coils. Even Klemés felt a nearly overpowering urge to stand and stare at Sweeze being crushed. The snake’s wicked means of keeping foes at bay was very effective. In the end, a Red Glove attack was nearly always successful as the snake’s coils fit around its victim like a glove.
“Hi-Tray, Klemés! Forward! Move!” The shouts from his shipmates waiting below snapped Klemés from his trance. Scrambling through the window, Klemés attacked the massive reptile with the carpenter’s hatchet he carried at his belt. As the blows began to fall on it, the massive reptile turned its attention to Klemés. Although its coils continued to encircle the unfortunate Sweeze, the snake’s searing red eyes turned themselves on its attacker. Now that he was the target of the snake’s hatred, Klemés held back on his blows. As the snake prepared to strike, he knew he would have one chance to hit the snake in its most vulnerable spot—the head. Fortunately, although fearsome in their attacks, Red Gloves were not very agile. At perhaps thirty feet long and a foot in diameter, they did not move with great speed.