The High-Skies Adventures of Blue Jay the Pirate

by Scott Nash

  Junco gave no answer, and Jay paused, perhaps to study the clouds or the invisible ship ahead, before saying, “I’ll tell you true. I’m good with the ships, but there is much my mind can’t imagine.” Jay bent back the brim of Junco’s hat and looked her in the eye. “For instance, I can’t see what you see in that egg below. Tell me, Junco: what are ya seein’ in that egg, in yer mind’s eye?”

  Junco was at a loss. The truth was she could not see anything in that egg, at least not in the way that Jay was describing. She was one of the most skilled navigators of the high skies. She could discern, in advance, where the favorable prevailing winds would be or where the windless doldrums lay. She could read the sky: the patterns of the clouds, the movements of the sails, and birds soaring all had meaning to her. There were many times that she had directed the Grosbeak out of danger and into fortune’s path by seeing and sensing things that others could not. Nevertheless, she was unfamiliar with the “mind pictures” that Jay spoke of. She couldn’t “see” what was in the egg any more clearly than she could see Jay’s merchant ship on the horizon.

  “It’s more of a feel,” Junco said half to herself, but Jay caught it and responded immediately.

  “Eh?” he said. “What is this ‘feel’ you’re talkin’ about? Come on, tell me now. If you can describe it, perhaps I can picture it.”

  Junco mulled the question for a while. “Adventure,” she said. “I feel there is adventure in that egg.”

  Jay perked up. “Go on!” he said. “What sort of adventure?”

  Emboldened, Junco said, “A rare thing, sir. A creature we’ve never known before. One of the ancients, perhaps . . . maybe a raven or a firebird or even a thunderbird.”

  Jay scratched his chin thoughtfully. “A thunderbird, you say? Having a bird like that on our side could be advantageous.”

  Thunderbirds were large mythic birds described as capable of conjuring powerful winds, stormy skies, and thunderous claps of thunder with every beat of their powerful wings. Every time a thunderbird blinked, it was said, lightning flashed.

  “You do think it’s alive?” Jay pressed.

  “Oh, sir, I am certain of it!” said Junco. “There’s something powerful in that egg!”

  Jay closed his eyes. “Wait, wait . . . I’m seeing something. . . .” He seemed to be in a trance. “It’s blobby, fuzzy. . . . It’s a bird! . . . I think.” Junco waited with anticipation. Then, suddenly, Jay opened his eyes wide. Junco held her breath. “I still can’t see the thing,” he said, shaking his head. “Tell you what, though. I’ll meditate on it for a spell.” Jay began to walk away.

  “Wait! Please, Captain!” called Junco. “There isn’t time! That egg needs to be kept warm or whatever’s inside will die! I beg you, release me from this watch and let me hatch the poor thing.”

  Junco’s plea was loud enough to attract the attention of some of the crew, including Snipe. “Is there a problem, Captain?” he called.

  “No, not at all,” Jay replied. He turned back to Junco. “Mr. Snipe is me quartermaster, and I stand by his judgment,” he said, then more quietly he added, “But keep yer spirits up, Junco. Steer us a steady course, and I’ll take care of the egg.”

  It would suffice to say that the crew of the Grosbeak did not take kindly to the orders they received from their captain that afternoon. Jay required that each pirate be given a two-hour stint during which he or she must sit upon the mysterious egg to keep it warm.

  “I didn’t become a sailor to hatch no stinkin’ egg!” griped Chuck-Will’s-Widow.

  “’S not natural!” growled an indignant Thrasher.

  “That egg drove poor ol’ Junco off her nut!” said Chuck.

  “It’s bad fortune, I tell you,” said Blackcap. “An evil ovum!”

  Unfortunately, no one understood his joke.

  It was a whisker after midnight the following night when the crew of the Grosbeak was startled awake by loud, bellowing cries coming from the Egg Gallery.

  “MURDER! I’M SLAIN!” Then again, “MURDER!” followed by a long, croaking moan that raised the birds’ head feathers. “OOOOHHHHH! OOOOWWW!”

  “That’s Chuck!” said Thrasher, bounding off his perch. “He’s with that cursed egg!”

  The whole crew sprang into action, armed themselves, and raced to the gallery. There they found Chuck rolling on the floor, holding his tail end, and crying out in pain. “OOOOHHHHHHHHHOOOOOWWWW!”

  “Chuck, wot’s happened?” asked Thrasher.

  “The devil attacked me in me sleep.” He groaned again. “OOOOHHHHHHOOOOOWWWW!”

  The moonlight spilling through an open hatch revealed scattered pieces of broken shell on the gallery floor.

  On seeing this, most of the pirates stepped back, but brave Blackcap flew to his friend’s side while keeping one eye and the point of his sword fixed on a dark corner. “Where is the thing?” demanded Blackcap.

  “The monster bit me rump!” cried Chuck.

  “Yes, but where is it?” cried Blackcap.

  “Tore out me tail feathers, it did!” wailed Chuck.

  “Blast it! Tell me where the monster is!” yelled Blackcap.

  The big bird groaned and said, “It’s behind them baskets over in the corner!”

  Something slid in the darkness followed by the sound of a crash and a sharp “Hissss! Hissss! Hissss!”

  “SNAAAAKE!” cried the pirates. In complete terror, they scrabbled and scratched and clawed their way back up the ladder and onto the main deck.

  Chuck brought up the rear, holding his own and adding to the panic by hollering, “MOVE! MOVE! IT’S RIGHT BEHIND ME!” The pirates clambered on deck, slammed the hatches shut, and bolted them tight.

  “WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?” called Snipe, buttoning his shirt and adjusting his hat as he appeared at his cabin door.

  The crew was in an uproar, all talking at once about the monstrous black serpent that was apparently slithering just under their feet.

  Jay appeared at the rail and signaled to Snipe to calm the panicky pirates.

  “SILENCE!” ordered Snipe. “Y’ALL SOUND LIKE A BUNCH OF GUINEA HENS! SILENCE, I SAY!”

  The crew quieted, and Jay spoke. “Somebody tell me what is going on here.”

  This set the crew to speaking at once. “A SERPENT! THE DEVIL HISSELF! A SNAKE! A MONSTER!”

  “SCREEEE! SCREEEEEEEEEEE!” Jay screamed in a perfect imitation of a red-tailed hawk. It was so convincing that the entire crew, including Snipe, hit the deck and fell into a cowering silence. “Now, one at a time,” said Jay. “Let’s start with a sensible voice, such as, let’s see . . . Junco, tell us what has happened, will ye?” Jay scanned the crew, and the crew turned their heads around. Jay felt a sudden surge of panic. “WHERE IS JUNCO?” demanded the captain.

  Junco was sound asleep belowdecks. Exhausted by three consecutive watches and satisfied that her precious egg was safe, Junco had fallen into a very deep slumber in a quiet corner of the sleeping berth toward the bow of the ship. She had not heard any of the commotion in the gallery, nor had she woken when the hatches were slammed shut. It was brave little Creeper who slipped below to find her. He had promised to let Junco know as soon as the egg began to hatch, so there he was, standing in front of her, not knowing what to do. He was terrified by the serpent but perhaps more terrified by once again startling his friend awake. “Jun-co!” he whispered as he gently shook her. “Junco, wake up!”

  “Wha? What’s happening?” Junco said groggily. Then her eyes widened at the site of Creeper. “Is it? Has it —?”

  “It’sss hatched,” confirmed Creeper.

  The news sent Junco into a flurry, and Creeper shied away. Junco bounced around the cabin, grabbed food from baskets, stuffed her pockets, and exclaimed, “I hope someone’s fed the poor thing!” and “We need to keep it warm!” and “The first few moments of a chick’s life are very important!”

  Creeper tried to speak, but between Junco’s excitement and his stutter, he could not get a wo
rd in edgewise.

  “Here! Take this,” said Junco, depositing a basket of green leaves into Creeper’s wings. “Bring this along, will you, please?” And with that, Junco flew out of the cabin toward the Egg Gallery at the far end of the ship.

  “Junco!” Creeper cried, flying after her. “Wait! S-s-s-stop! It’sss not a chick!”

  But Junco was already gone. Creeper followed, feeling sick, and peered cautiously into the darkness of the Egg Gallery. There he was relieved to find Junco alive but shocked to see her offering a few leaves of watercress to the creature that was still hidden in the darkness. Junco was speaking in a thin, hushed voice. “There, there, little one. Nothing to fear now. Mama’s here.”

  Mama? thought Creeper. She has gone mad. Junco confirmed his fear by actually putting a sprig of watercress in her beak and presenting it to the creature. Creeper couldn’t believe the situation they were in: he and Junco (who was apparently stark-raving mad) alone with some sort of monster lurking in the darkness. He simply could not stand it anymore and shouted, “JUNCO! C-COME AWAY FROM THERE! IT’S D-D-D-DANGEROUS!” Sure enough, something hissed again, very close to where Junco was perched.

  Junco took the leaves out of her mouth and turned to Creeper. “Stop your shouting,” she whispered. “You’re scaring the wits out of him.”

  “Scaring the wits out of him?” Creeper answered. “That s-s-snake th-thing tried to eat Chuck.”

  Junco laughed softly. “It’s no snake, Creeper. Come see for yourself.” And with that, she placed the cress back in her bill and offered it to the darkness.

  Creeper nearly fainted when a shiny black mouth darted out and grabbed the food from Junco. The mouth was connected not to a snake but to a fluffy black-and-yellow head, which followed Junco’s every movement, its eyes searching for more watercress.

  It was then that the hatch above their heads swung open, and Jay flew into the gallery with his sword drawn. “Stand back, both of you! I’ll deal with . . . save you from . . .” He paused. “Cryeeee! What have we hatched there?!”

  “It’s a gosling!” answered Junco happily.

  “A gosling? Well, I’ll be!” said Jay with a broad smile. “Hmmm. Almost as good as a thunderbird, I’d say!”

  The rest of the crew peered down cautiously from the hatch above, keeping a safe distance while trying to catch a glimpse of the strange new passenger. When they did, they couldn’t help uttering a collective “Awwwwwww!”

  The baby goose was a gangly little creature covered in yellow down. He had large black webbed feet, a shiny black beak, and dark eyes that gave him a determined sort of cuteness. His wings flapped uselessly as he lunged for the watercress Junco held out to him.

  “He’s a hungry little devil,” Jay said with a laugh. “Take care he doesn’t take yer wing tips along with those leaves.”

  “Aye, he’s going to need more food soon. And water,” said Junco.

  “’Tis bad luck to bring water on board a ship,” came the stern voice of Snipe, who was standing shoulder to shoulder with Crossbill in the doorway. But when the quartermaster saw the little goose gobble up the remaining greens and look adoringly at Junco, he softened a bit, adjusted his glasses, and said, “Well, let me have a look at this tot here.”

  The gosling teetered to its full height, nearly eye to eye with Snipe, and started hissing and spitting again and flapping its tiny wings. Snipe stepped back and removed his glasses. Wiping the lenses with a handkerchief, he sighed, clicked his bill a few times, then said, “As you are no doubt aware, Captain, what we have standing before us is a Branta goose, otherwise known as a black goose. Many believe geese and their like to be descended from gods. Whether or not you believe that sort of foolishness, having a gosling on board is a dangerous proposition. An adult black goose is one of the meanest creatures in the world. Without provocation, it will attack anyone who crosses its path. Just think what one of them would do to someone who’s kidnapped one of its own. A full-grown Branta is about the size of our ship. Its long, powerful wings could easily snap our masts in two.” Snipe paused, then smiled sarcastically. “All that aside, I congratulate you on your latest . . . treasure.”

  Blue Jay whistled in amazement. “Well, thank you, Snipe. That was certainly informative,” he said. “While we decide what to do about this young, ah, Branta, do you, um . . . have any ideas for how we might care for this little ‘godling’ in the meantime?”

  “Care for him?” said Snipe, startled. “You must be joking, sir! We can’t keep this —”

  “Yes, we can — we must!” interrupted Junco. “He thinks we’re his parents!”

  “Silence!” Snipe hissed. “This conversation is between the captain and myself. One more outburst from you, Junco, and I swear I’ll have you locked up in the hold.”

  Wisely, Junco chose to shut her beak.

  “All right, then, Snipe,” said Jay. “What do you suggest we do?”

  “On your orders, sir,” Snipe began, with a cautioning glance at Junco, “I would recommend that we leave the gosling on the shore of the nearest pond straightaway, before his presence on our ship is discovered and a much, much bigger goose — er, problem — descends upon us.”

  Junco’s eyes blazed and her feathers fluffed. Protective feelings for the gosling burned in her chest, yet she kept her beak shut.

  Junco’s agitation did not go unnoticed. In fact, many of the pirates shared her sadness and disappointment over Snipe’s practical but harsh recommendation.

  The crew stood, shuffling their feet nervously, staring at the floor awkwardly and holding their breath, waiting for his decision while a gosling who was taller than most of them just kept on peeping loudly and insistently for more food. Standing stiffly by her mates was Junco, puffed up and stormy, looking like a little gray dandelion about to explode with the slightest hint of a breeze.

  Jay issued no order. Instead, he was the one who exploded . . . in laughter. “HA! HA! HA-HA-HA-HA!” Both the gosling and the crew were stunned into silence by his outburst. They stared at him, dumbstruck, as Jay laughed and laughed. When he finally stopped, he wiped tears from his eyes. “HOOOO-WEE,” he said. “I say this . . . we will let the gosling be our guest for a day or two or three. We’ll keep him out of sight, and then we’ll figure out how to go about finding him a proper home.”

  Snipe stood tall and sharply inhaled his disapproval while the crew exhaled their relief. The pirates peered down affectionately at the gosling, who smiled up at them for the first time. Blackcap, who was a bit of a wise guy, teased, “Will ye look at that? Ain’t that the sweetest little chick Chuck’s hatched there?”

  Chuck frowned and croaked, “As I recollect, Chickadee, we all hatched this egg.”

  “Indeed, we did,” said Blackcap, “but surely ye see how much the baby resembles you! Just look at the size of that mouth, fer instance!”

  For the moment, the pirates were smitten by the young Branta. Someone suggested that the gosling needed a name. They joked with names like Slither, Hisster, and Yellow Snake. Finally, Chuck-Will’s-Widow said simply, “Gabriel . . . his name is Gabriel.” When asked why, he said, “I dunno. It’s just his name.” And that it was.

  Two days passed, then two weeks, then two months, and Gabriel remained on the Grosbeak. As spring warmed into summer, food became more plentiful and Gabriel grew to an astonishing size. While he was the youngest on board, he was already the largest, yet he was still in downy feathers and unable to fly. He had outgrown two sets of clothing, and Junco was obliged to start adding panels of spare cloth whenever and wherever they were needed. Gabriel’s jacket was growing into a patchwork of the crew’s cast-offs, the remnants of clothing, tattered flags, and old pieces of sailcloth.

  The pirates had become Gabriel’s teachers, and the Grosbeak was his schoolhouse. The goose turned out to be a quick study and could soon name nearly all of the sails and lines. His favorites were the wing sails, the long mainsails that reached out toward the horizon. He would stare at the sail
s and stretch out his short wings, willing them to grow so that he, too, could fly.

  The goose proved to be a cheerful and helpful member of the crew. Or at the very least, he tried his best to be. He had a strong neck and back, which were useful for lifting and hauling sacks and gear, a task that he willingly performed throughout the day. In most other ways, however, the poor goose was ridiculously ill suited to life on board a ship. His ability to move around the decks comfortably was hampered by his large webbed feet, which were designed for flat, solid ground and not for perching or grabbing onto ropes and rigging.

  Since none of the pirates had any useful knowledge or experience raising a goose, let alone a godling, they simply decided to raise him as a pirate. Junco spent hours training the goose in all aspects of pirate life, including fighting with a sword and a switch. Gabriel’s first attempt to use a switch proved to be a mistake, as switches require agility and the ability to spin tightly in the air. Junco had a bit more success training the goose to use a sword. What Gabriel lacked in skill, he made up for in strength and enthusiasm. Unfortunately, having a huge, clumsy, eager gosling running around deck wielding a sharp blade did not always go over well with the rest of the crew.

  Jay, on the other hand, was never anything but delighted with Gabriel’s progress. “Cripes, Snipe!” he said one warm, cloudless day while he, Crossbill, and Snipe were watching a sparring session. “That Branta is as strong as five birds.”

  “Indeed, he is, sir,” Snipe grumbled. “He also eats enough for ten birds!”

  “That’s to be expected,” said Jay with a grin. “He’s a growing goose.”

  Gabriel crashed heavily into the gunwales, accidentally severing a line to the skysail. The crew scrambled to repair the damage, and Snipe turned to his captain. “He’s a growing concern as well, sir,” he said. “Seriously, how long do you intend to keep the goose on board? We really should find him a more suitable home with his own kind. He’s more than doubled in size already, and if he continues to grow at this rate . . . ,”