Greenbeard (9781935259220)

by Bentley, Richard James

  “Here they come! Here they come! Oh, lor’ luvaduck! They be big bastards, too!” shouted the topmast lookout, who had a spyglass. The toad-men were coming out onto the red-dirt plaza from between the buildings, loping over the sand with a flat-footed gait. There was silence on the Ark de Triomphe, so the flap -flap -flap of the toad-men’s green warty flat feet could be heard distinctly. They drew closer, waving bludgeons and clubs, until their wheezing croaky breath could be heard too. A marksman fired – ba-bang! – and a toad-man fell headlong onto the sand and lay still, his bludgeon rolling away. The marksman immediately swapped his discharged weapon for a loaded one and fired again. Now all the marksmen were firing – careful aimed shots – and their loaders worked in pairs; powder-patch-ball-ramrod-cock-prime, over and over again. The toad-men fell.

  “Why do they not have firearms?” asked Mr Benjamin.

  “Because they are too stupid, Frank” said the Captain. “They can obey simple commands, but a gun requires a modicum of nous and a minimum of force to set it off. They would shoot each other by accident, or look down the barrel and pull the trigger to see how it worked, or some other foolishness.”

  The corpses of the toad-men had now piled up on top of each over, forming a wall which the last of them were doggedly climbing over. Several of the more-agile toad-men had almost reached the rim of the crater before they were killed, forming a grisly high-water mark. The toad-men’s blood drained out into the red dirt to form pools; it was purple and thick, and it steamed slightly.

  “I am sorry I must have them all killed,” said Captain Greybagges, “but they are dangerous creatures and do not deviate from the orders that have been drilled into their thick skulls. One would have to kill savage guard dogs in a similar fashion, and I would regret that more, for even a rabid dog is a far more attractive animal than a toad-man.”

  The marksmen had stopped firing, as no living toad-men could now be seen.

  “The lizard-people will try and attack now,” said Captain Greybagges to Mr Benjamin. “They are much brainier than the toad-men, but have little talent for war, and even less liking for it. But they’ve been doin’ just what they wuz told to do for a while, though, so we shall have to see which way they will go.” He roared out to the crew, “Don’t shoot the lizard-people, shipmates! Not unless I tells ‘ee to!” He went to the quarterdeck rail, and waited.

  “There be some creatures a-sneaking out from the alleyways, Cap’n!” the lookout shouted down.

  “Thankee! Keep an eye on ‘em!” the Captain shouted back, then waited some more.

  Almost shyly, creatures began to come onto the plaza. This was a slow process, as each one seemed to be trying to hide behind every other one, so they spent much time milling about rather than moving forward. They looked like tubby lizards with stumpy tails, except that they walked on their two back legs and had four arms. There was a fair amount of arm-waving going on, as there seemed to be several serious disagreements taking place among them at any one time, as well as a surplus of arms to wave about. Their voices were like loud birdsong. They all appeared to be carrying weapons, but a strange assortment of them. One was carrying a weapon in each of its four hands; an odd-shaped silvery arquebus with a transparent red-crystal rod instead of a barrel, an engraved Spanish miquelet horse-pistol with a ball pommel, a Magdeburg crossbow (a heavy siege model with a cranequin built into its oak stock) and a long pike with a tattered gonfalon dangling limply from its cross-bar. Each of the lizard-people was similarly burdened, as though they had grabbed as many weapons as they could, so to appear intimidatingly warlike, but didn’t feel very comfortable carrying them, or really know what to do with them.

  Captain Greybagges stood at the quarterdeck rail and spoke in a loud and powerful voice, a voice of brass, the type of voice possessed only by a ship’s captain, which can be heard at distances of up to half a sea mile, into the teeth of a Caribbean hurricano and over a trommelfeur of cannon-fire, yet not sound unduly forced or ‘shouty’. The Captain spoke thus:

  “Lizard people! Listen to me! You know me! You have seen me and my green beard before! I know you, too! You there, Pretty Polly! You too, Cheeky Boy! Joker! Squawky! Cutie Pie! Jemima! I don’t speak your language, but some of you do understand mine! I know that well, for we have played cards together, you and I! You recognize the names I gave to you then, and which I call you by now! Translate my words for the others, if you would be so kind. I do not want to harm you! You hate the Glaroon as much as I do! Lay down you weapons, and you shall not be harmed! … I say it again … LAY DOWN THE WEAPONS AND YOU SHALL NOT BE FIRED UPON! PLEASE LAY DOWN THE WEAPONS! DO PLEASE LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS, I BEG YOU!”

  A lizard-person bent down, dropped a clatter of assorted armaments on the sand and hopped back away from them. The other lizard-people did the same, as though to disassociate themselves from them - weapons? what weapons? They bumped into each other as they tried to back away from their piles of weapons. Hopping backwards they trod on others’ piles of weapons, then jumped back away from those, too. There were collisions, and several tripped and fell over, and there was much angry chirrupping, squawking and arm-waving.

  “Aah! Good! I would have been mortified iffen I’d had to kill ‘em,” said Captain Greybagges to Mr Benjamin. “They be diverting fellows … if a little clownish, betimes … GO TOWARDS … GO THAT WAY! THE WAY I BE POINTING! OVER THERE! IF YOU ALL GO IN THE SAME DIRECTION YOU WILL NOT KEEP A-BUMPIN’ INTO EACH OTHER!”

  The lizard-people moved away, still chirrupping and squawking and arm-waving, leaving the piles of weapons on the sand.

  “That be the price o’ an ill-considered policy o’ divide an’ rule, d’ye see? The Glaroon has the savage but witless toad-men to terrorise the lizard-people, an’ the intelligent lizard-people to make sure the toad-men don’t do anything too stupid. Each is a check upon the other, but when the toad-men are gone it all falls apart. There is a third factor, though …”

  “Cap’n!” a cry came from the lookout. “Summat be a-going on up top o’ the … whatever it is, the blue house … there! Little men got summat on little wheels up there!”

  “Right on cue! The third factor. Little grey buggers!” said the Captain. On a flat roof some small figures were struggling with a device, which was indeed on little wheels. It was an assembly of shiny metal boxes, spheres and cylinders with coloured glass bulbs and tubes snaking around them, some of its components were glowing with flickering with green and purple light.

  “Peter! Peter! Knock them down!” shouted the Captain.

  “Turn the ship a little widdershins, Cap’n!” shouted Blue Peter from below in the gun-deck. Bulbous Bill fiddled with the binnacle, and the frigate yawed a compass-point anticlockwise, sloshing the water in the crater. There was a ‘BOOM!’ and a cloud of smoke from the frigate, and the glowing device was shattered into fragments. When the cannonball struck the device there was a bright flash of blue light and the small figures around it were blown in all directions, one of its little wheels bounced along the roof and sailed off the edge.

  “Excellent shooting, Peter!” shouted the Captain.

  “It was Torvald Coalbiter who laid the gun,” Blue Peter shouted back.

  “Keep yuz eyes open for any more o’ their capers!”

  The crew were disembarking. Some climbed out along the bowsprit, which projected over the crater’s rim, and slid down a rope to the ground. There they grabbed gang-planks which were pushed out over the rails and quickly rigged them at prow and stern, and the pirates swarmed ashore onto the red sands of Mars. One pirate fell into the crater. The seawater pool had become rather polluted during the interplanetary journey, so when he climbed out over the crater’s rim he was a source of much amusement. “Har-har, Jake Thackeray! Thou art all be-shat! Har-har!” shouted one of the old pirates gleefully.

  “Less of the badinage, ye swabs! This ain’t a picnic-party!” roared the Captain from the quarterdeck rail. “Yuz have yer tasks! Don’t kill any people yer comes
across, cuz’ the people here be slaves. Don’t kill any o’ the lizard-people, either. Try not to kill the little grey buggers, but don’t hesitate if yer has to, specially iffen they be carryin’ any strange devices. Kill all o’ them toad-men as quick as yer can. Off yer goes now!”

  The squads of pirates trotted away across the red-dirt plaza, muskets on their shoulders and cutlasses in their belts. Captain Greybagges sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.

  “Peter! Do please come up here!” Blue Peter came up from the gun-deck.

  “Peter, can Torvald handle the gun-deck by hisself?”

  “Surely he can. A good fellow is the Coalbiter!”

  “Well then, you shall come with me. Give him his orders. I don’t want no cannon-balls a-crashin’ into the town unnecessarily, but anything suspicious an’ he’s to blow it to kingdom-come.” Captain Greybagges scratched his chin thoughtfully.

  “Bill, you must stay here and guard the ship. Lift her off again if you must to save her from counter-attack, but I don’t think that be likely. The toad-men are mostly dead now. The lizard-people are prepared to accept a change o’ management, har-har! The little grey buggers may yet be a problem, but there ain’t so many o’ them, and, though they be clever, they be not so sharp when took by surprise. Keep alert. The ship is under your hand.”

  “Aye-aye, Cap’n!”

  “Mr Benjamin! Will you take the prisoners under guard and watch ‘em? Over there on the sand, where they are standing about. The lizard-people and the little grey buggers both, but don’t let ‘em mingle or the lizard-people may twist the heads off the little grey buggers, as they have grudges. Take four men, that should be enough. Some o’ the lizard-people speak the King’s English, bless ‘em, and you may be able to get ‘em to help you watch the little grey buggers, iffen you makes it clear to ‘em about no head-twisting, o’ course. Do please be polite to them even if you are bein’ forceful, especially if you are bein’ forceful, for the lizard-people be good-hearted but they can be touchy. No need to be polite to the little grey buggers. Kick their arses if they are disobedient or contrary, but not too damn’ hard, for they be weak and fragile creatures.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain!”

  Blue Peter reappeared and he and the Captain clomped down the stern gangplank, followed by the six bully-boys. Mrs Miriam Ceteshwayoo and the island women were setting up a first-aid post, tearing bandages from old sheets on a trestle-table.

  “Women’s work, you are thinking, no doubt?” said Miriam sweetly. “Of course you are! Since you have not deigned to inform us of your plans, or our part in them, we must assume that we women must, as always, clean up after you. If my Peter comes back here and I have to stitch him back together then I will …” One of the island women interrupted her, passing her another sheet to tear. Captain Greybagges opened his mouth to speak, but she was looking into Blue Peter’s eyes. “Off you go now. Come back.” She looked away and carried on tearing strips from the sheet.

  Captain Greybagges touched Blue Peter’s arm and they walked towards the town across the red sand, followed by the bully-boys. Blue Peter, with some difficulty, turned his thoughts to the business ahead. He remembered things the Captain and told him, and tried to put them in some order.

  “Captain, you once told me of the Glaroon. Do you hope to catch him and take your revenge?”

  Captain Sylvestre de Greybagges thought for a moment. Blue Peter noticed that the Captain’s green beard was moving very slightly. Small ripples ran down it. Occasionally it fluffed up just a little, the way a cat’s hair will do when it is scared.

  “Yes, the Glaroon. I can sense his presence, but only very faintly. He is a Great Old One, so he can read minds, of course. This is useful to him, but irritating too, because of the relentless gabble of lesser beings’ thoughts filling his … his whatever it is he thinks with. He often rests in a chamber with thick walls made of osmium, or some such metal o’ great price. A sort of quiet room, far from the noise and bustle. He is there now, sleeping, dreaming, or whatever it is that he does. I timed our landing to coincide with this, as his servants will be afraid to disturb him and face his wrath.”

  “I believe that you have laid your plans very carefully, Captain, with regard to time.”

  “Tis all timing,” said Captain Greybagges fervently. “Everything is timing because everything is time. Some may say ‘Aha! But what about space, eh?’ but space is measured out in time, d’ye see? Why, it’s three minutes walk to the pub! It’s a hard day’s ride to Banbury Cross! Three weeks to Port o’ Spain, iffen the Westerlies stays brisk! Without time there’d be no space, because there’d be no measure of it. Time is everything, and every single thing is time. That’s why I’m doin’ all this, to be truthful. Because o’ time! … Well, that be one o’ the reasons, anyway. The Glaroon is another one. I wish for revenge, and I shall have it. I don’t believe he shall be woken, for then he would surely exterminate all the little grey buggers in his fury – blast them to atoms just by thinking bad thoughts about them - and the little grey buggers know that. So they will try to fight us, but they be already beaten because the real line o’ defence was up in the sky above us, and we sunk their space-ships, and they aren’t any good at fighting anyway. So we shall catch the Glaroon a-snoozing in his dream-chamber, trapped like a lobster in a pot.”

  They walked in silence for a while, two tall powerful buccaneers. One black as night, his face marked with scars, attired in bright silks trimmed with lace. One pink-faced with a green beard, clad in somber black broadcloth. The bullyboys had moved to flank them, three to each side, and were warily watchful, their muskets in their hands.

  A small group of lizard-people came towards them, holding up all four of their arms in sign of surrender. Two of the little grey buggers were in front of them, being apparently herded towards the frigate floating in the crater. The lizard-people waddled past, stumpy tails swinging from side to side, some of them, presumably the more elderly, occasionally using their lower pair of arms to ‘knuckle’ with a gorilla-like gait. They all acknowledged the pirates with chirrups and squawks, and gave an impression of good humour. The two little grey buggers gave the pirates one glance of their large slanted oval eyes, nictating membranes flickering over the gleaming black surfaces, then turned their heads and walked on. Captain Greybagges spoke to the lizard-people cheerfully, and pointed them towards the crowd of prisoners being watched by Mr Benjamin,

  “They are oddly charming creatures, I find,” said Blue Peter. “They have aspects which surely ought to daunt a sensible and perceptive person. If they should chose to grapple with one, well, they have four arms to do it with, and the lower arms are obviously very powerful, They have a lot of teeth, pointed teeth. They have those woogly chameleon eyes, that you once described to me. But one’s instinct upon seeing them is to smile and talk to them.”

  “I am very fond of them, Peter. When I was held here as a slave I think I should have gone mad, but for the lizard-people. They can be a comical sight, but don’t be deceived by that. They have extraordinary talents. There are no mechanics and craftsmen better than the lizard-people, and some of them are astoundingly knowledgeable, true scholars. They love to drink, too. They love to gamble. They are musical, and love to dance and sing. They almost never mumpish or bad-tempered. How can one not like them? It is a good sign that they are surrendering, and bringing in little grey buggers, too. A very few o’ the people here knew I was coming, so they are perhaps spreading the word to the lizard-people, who will not be unhappy to see the Glaroon fall.”

  They approached the town. There were few signs of war, only an occasional crackle of musket-fire came from among the buildings.

  “Ah, still a few toad-men running about, I would guess, but otherwise things are proceeding as planned. What worries me most is that the lads will be distracted by the lust for plunder,” said the Captain. “There aren’t that many people and extramundane creatures in this town, really, considerin’ its size. Most of it be treasu
re-houses or museums to store the swag that the Glaroon has looted from Earth’s past … our past. Our lads are good lads, but they still be pirates, or else I wouldn’t have ‘em on the ship, so the sight o’ all that treasure a-glittering in heaps might turn their heads. The people here, the Glaroon’s slaves, are also a kind of swag, stolen from our past, and some o’ them might turn a young man’s head, too, and some o’ them might enjoy doin’ just that. Them Borgia girls, fr’instance. They would consider it a downright insult iffen a fine strapping young pirate did not try to have his wicked way with them, the hussies, but that wouldn’t stop ‘em from slippin’ a stiletto between his ribs, or givin’ the poor sod a scratch with a poisoned ring, should he try to engage ‘em in a bit o’ slap an’ tickle. I’ve told the lads over an’ over that there ain’t no need to pocket any trinkets or kiss the ladies, for we shall take the entire town in one swift move an’ then do with it what we will at our leisure, but if they did not feel a powerful urge to rape, loot and plunder, why, then I would surely feel a little disappointed in ‘em, really I would. That’s why we must be here now, to keep things orderly, although I dare say there might be a couple o’ brisk actions where the little grey buggers are bein’ obstinate.”