Dinotopia - Dinotopia Lost

by Alan Dean Foster

  “If this be hell,” Blackstrap was telling the men, “with its clean water, ample fruit, and wonders to see, then I’ll take it over Limehouse any day, har.”

  “There was fruit in the Garden of Eden,” Samuel pointed out.

  “Aye,” Blackstrap agreed readily, “and it were Eve who picked it. I see no Eves among us ... unless one of you lot has been holding out on the rest.”

  There was a pause and then every man broke out laughing. Not for the first time, Blackstrap had used humor to shatter tension and uncertainty. Whatever you might think of him personally, Smiggens knew, you had to admire the captain’s innate cleverness.

  It did not occur to the men that their jollity might be noticed. The smaller of the two megalosaurs raised its head to stare directly at them. But just as Smiggens surmised, it saw no reason to bother with a group of scrawny, bony humans.

  The men lingered in the vicinity of the feed, watching and marveling at the appetites of the six carnivores. It was after several hours of profound reflection that Smiggens declared himself unable to solve the problem of how to capture and transport one.

  “They’re just too bloody big, Captain. We might squeeze one through that canyon we found, but any cart built to haul it would barely fit sideways.”

  To his surprise, Blackstrap agreed with him. “Aye, I’d reached that same sad conclusion meself, Mr. Smiggens. We’ll just have to be satisfied with something smaller. Surely we can find an interesting example of these dinosaurs that’s larger than our present captives but smaller than those meat-eaters we see before us. Something in between. I ain’t greedy. One more will do me.”

  The first mate nodded. “That sounds to me like a fine plan, Captain. With persistence, surely one of suitable size can be located.”

  It took less time and effort than any of them imagined, for they came upon a perfect specimen later that very afternoon. It was actually shorter than their two adult bird-dinosaurs, shorter even than Blackstrap or Smiggens, but much more massively built.

  Mkuse and Chumash found it sleeping within a cluster of soft plants, its head drooping forward, the scaly chin almost resting on the muscular chest. It closely resembled the much larger meat-eaters they had been observing that morning. But in addition to size, there were significant other differences.

  The skull seemed oversized, as did the legs and feet. Instead of long, useful arms ending in three-fingered hands, the forelegs of this new beast were comically short and had only two fingers, though the claws on the feet were substantial enough. There was no horn on the snout, though tiny bony projections did thrust slightly outward above each closed eye. The chest rose and fell softly with its breathing and the belly bulged, indicating that this smaller carnivore had recently eaten its fill.

  When standing erect, it would still be shorter than the tallest of the bird-dinosaurs they had captured, though more muscular. The pirates congratulated themselves on locating such a perfect specimen with such ease.

  They jumped when it let out a snort, but the eyes did not open and it quickly returned to its deep slumber.

  “The captain will want something bigger,” Mkuse commented.

  Chumash let out a grunt of his own. “Captain half crazy. This enough to carry on any ship.” He eased backward into the brush. “We must tell the others and come back before it awakes.”

  “Yes,” agreed the Zulu as he noted the presence of oversized teeth and talons.

  “Get the nets!” Blackstrap roared as soon as he received the report. “Mkuse, you position yourself to port of the creature and you, Mr. Smiggens, take the starboard. Beware its teeth. The rest of us will make a frontal charge at the beast and drive it toward you. Be ready lest it try to jump.”

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Captain.” Mkuse measured a length of rope with his big hands.

  Blackstrap regarded the warrior. “And what’s wrong with it, may I ask?”

  “You haven’t seen it, Captain.”

  Blackstrap’s mustache quivered. “You said it was a small one.”

  “That is true.” Chumash spoke up in support of his shipmate. “But you have not seen it. It is small, but there is something about it. I think maybe it will not be driven. What will you do if it runs straight at you?”

  “Don’t be a bloody fool, man! Consider its size in relation to our number. Of course it’ll turn and run. ’Twould be the sensible thing for any wild beast to do.”

  “That’s just it, Captain.” Mkuse looked uneasy. “From its look I am not so sure this is a sensible creature.”

  Blackstrap’s eyes flashed. “What’s happened to you two? You’re acting like consumptives. Did we not frighten off a brute big enough to have one like this for dessert?”

  “Yes, Captain, but—”

  “Look to your nets, then, and let’s be about the business.” Mkuse and Chumash offered no further argument as the men shouldered the heavy ropes and nets and started off into the forest, but both silently resolved to find themselves on the back end of the lines when the time came to ambush their quarry. Their four captives shuffled along placidly, unaware of the enterprise on which their captors were now embarked.

  Led by the two warriors, the capture party took no chances. Though there was little in the way of a breeze, they were careful to approach downwind of their quarry, and to lower their voices as they approached.

  “Powerful-lookin’ little bugger,” Thomas commented when they finally had it in view.

  “Aye,” agreed O’Connor in a whisper. “All legs and head, it is. But sure and it’ll be no match for several dozen stout seamen, I’ll wager.”

  “I will take that wager, Irishman.”

  O’Connor grinned at his shipmate. “Why? If I’m wrong you probably won’t live to spend your winnin’s, man.”

  “Belay your blabbering! Luck, she smiles on us still.” Blackstrap pointed. “The little devil sleeps on. Look at its gut. This one won’t be doing any mad jumping about anytime

  soon.” He strained to see to his right and left. “That malingering Smiggens and that black sourface Mkuse best be in position. I’ll have their hides if this prize escapes us.”

  “Mr. Smiggens is on the move, sir,” declared Watford. Blackstrap nodded. “Yes, I can hear their bloody clumsy stumbling about from here. Better they not wake it before time.” “Not to worry, captain. See—it sleeps on.”

  And why should it not? Smiggens was thinking as he carefully positioned his own men. It would take a carnivore the size of the one that had menaced their camp to put fear in the heart of so stout and powerful a meat-eater. Even in slumber its aspect was ferocious.

  There was no need for Blackstrap to lead his men in a noisy rush. Together with Smiggens’s and Mkuse’s groups they approached as silently as possible, closing the trap around the unsuspecting sleeper. Mkuse himself was within arm’s length of their quarry when it finally opened one eye and blinked groggily. A querulous snuffling sounded from its snout.

  That was the signal for someone to shout “Git him!” and for nets and ro{?es to be cast. Cautious intent gave way to mad confusion and frantic activity as men scrambled to assert themselves. Mkuse was bellowing orders in a smattering of English, Dutch, and Zulu, while sputtered imprecations in a dozen languages added spice to the general chaos.

  Both of the big nets were over the creature before it could fully awaken. Working as if the devil himself were critiquing their efforts, Johanssen and Anbaya managed to fasten a hobble to the short, muscular legs.

  Startled out of a deep sleep but rapidly coming awake, the beast let go with an incongruously high-pitched roar that was chilling enough to straighten hair on a bald man. A lasso was slipped over its jaws, then another, and another, and then it could no longer snap at the men or generate anything louder than an outraged grunt. More ropes were coiled around legs and neck, and attention was paid even to the ridiculously short but powerful arms.

  By the time it was fully alert it was utterly helpless, secured by thick
ropes and weighted down by sections of netting. The encounter had cost the pirates only bumps and bruises and the loss of one rope, bit through as cleanly as a seamstress

  would measure off a foot of thread. With its legs hobbled in the manner of the struthies, their captive could not even make use of its semiflexible tail. It could only glower at them and snarl menacingly under its breath.

  After a few feeble attempts to kick and disembowel several of its captors, it recognized the futility of such efforts and began to settle down. It was breathing hard, and its yellow eyes flicked from one man to the next. That murderous, relentless stare would have set the legs of many an individual to shaking, but these were men who had looked death in the eye before and were no stranger to it. To Mkuse, the dinosaur (as the first mate had called its kind) was nothing more than a lion on two legs.

  Perspiration glistening on his naked brow, a jubilant Blackstrap threw an arm around his first mate’s shoulders. “What think you, Mr. Smiggens, of our latest acquisition? Look at those teeth! Why, I’d wager there be some nearly two inches long.” “It’s a fine example of whatever it is, Captain.” Smiggens was breathing hard, exhilarated by the brief tussle. “You there, Andreas! Make certain of those jaw ropes!”

  “Aye, Mr. Smiggens!” came the boisterous reply. “We’ll keep ’er tight, don’t worry!” With the danger now past and their quarry secured, the men relaxed. They swapped jokes and eyed their new captive with curiosity, speculating freely on what it might be worth.

  So hugely and single-mindedly were they enjoying themselves that they failed to notice that their other captives were literally shivering with apprehension and terror. The four struthies huddled together, their eyes bulging in fear.

  “How will we feed the thing, Captain?” someone asked. “We’ll tie it down good and proper,” Blackstrap replied without hesitation, “and free nothing but those jaws. It’ll eat or starve. I’ve yet to encounter man or beast that’d refuse to eat if hungry enough. Caught the devil by the tail, we have! Give yourselves three cheers, boys!”

  As usual, it was left to the first mate to put a damper on the general celebration. Blackstrap growled at him. “Why the long face, man? Must it always be the long face, no matter how much fortune favors us? Must you live always under a dark cloud?”

  “I try to sail out from under, Captain, but I can’t stop my mind from working.”

  “Aye, that pestilential encumbrance troubling you again, is it? Well, what be it this time?”

  Smiggens considered their silent, bound new acquisition. “I was just wondering if this individual was a mature example of its kind, and if not, how much bigger it was going to get.” “Bigger?” Blackstrap’s brows semaphored his puzzlement. “What makes you think it’s going to get any bigger?”

  The first mate reflected on the possibilities. “You remember the one that surprised our camp. This creature is as nothing compared to it. Look at the size of its head and feet compared to its body. Does that not suggest a youthful specimen with growing still to do?”

  “Are you now an expert in the maturation of these dinosaur beasts?” Blackstrap was not daunted. “Be you conversant with the ratio of their foot to body size? Let it grow a little, says I! By then we’ll have a proper cage made for it, or have it sold to the right authority. Let them deal with it. Worry instead about how to spend the gold its sale will bring you. If that troubles you still, there be many a seaman ready to swap you his share of the spoil for that of a mate.”

  Smiggens sighed. “It just struck me that it might not be representative of an adult of the species.”

  “Belay such wasteful pratde. ’Tis plainly big enough to terrify the ladies out of their skirts. That be big enough for our needs.” He gestured to Mkuse. “Group this pretty with the others.” Designating several of the burliest members of the crew to handle the key ropes, the Zulu supervised as their new captive was alternately walked and dragged over to join the rest of their small menagerie. It soon saw the futility of trying to resist and complied with their demands.

  As it drew near, the four struthies did everything possible to flee. They were restrained by their hobbles and their handlers, but they continued to shy as far away from the new arrival as possible. Though not human, their body language was easy enough to read.

  “Look at ’em.” Characteristically, Blackstrap found the captives’ unmitigated terror amusing. “They’ve reason to be frightened, I’d wager. ’Twould be beaks versus teeth if all were

  set free together, and the outcome of any consequent conflict easy enough to predict.” He indicated the new prisoner’s bound jaws. “I haven’t seen cutlery like that since I was last in a duke’s kitchen.” He laughed uproariously at his own jest. Bright, intense yellow eyes followed his every move.

  “What now, Captain?” Johanssen gripped one leg rope firmly.

  “Aye, Captain,” asked Treggang, “haven’t we got enough for one journey?”

  “That we do, that we do.” Hugely pleased, Blackstrap eyed their prize fondly. “Why, we may not even have to escort these pretties all the way back to England or the Americas. Perhaps some Zanzibari sultan or Lamu potentate will shower us with pearls as payment for a new plaything. We’ll sell them all dear, we will.” He chuckled contentedly. “No need to run up skull and bones any longer. Mr Smiggens! What be the flag of the pet trade?” Even the dour first mate had to smile at that.

  Blackstrap waited for the laughter to die down. “And when these have been sold and we’ve spent our new fortunes, why, we’ll come back and help ourselves to another half dozen beasties. That’s what this land will become: our own private hunting ground, whose location will be known only to us. We’ll outfit a better ship for our return, with comfortable cabins all ’round and proper cages built into her hold.” “But those currents, Captain, and the wind,” muttered old Ruskin.

  Blackstrap shrugged off the helmsman’s pessimism. “We’ll find a different route, make our approach from another quarter. You worry too much, old man. One fortune at a time.” Having finally overcome her initial shock not only at the humans’ insane temerity but at their success, Shremaza used her long neck to nudge her mate.

  “Speak to it, father of our children. You must speak to it.” Hisaulk brooded over the possibilities, less than enamored of any of them. “I don’t know the dialect. If ever we needed a translator among us, it is now.” As he concluded, the new captive growled softly in their direction. Though as thoroughly bound as they were themselves, it was much too close for Hisaulk’s comfort.

  He tried to reply, mimicking the gruff tongue as best he could. At the same time he kicked out as far as he was able with first one bound leg, then the other, trying to show by action as well as voice that they were also prisoners of these improbable humans.

  “See,” he tried to explain, his throat protesting the effort required to generate the rough, raspy sounds, “our condition is as unacceptable as yours. We are comrades in distress.”

  The other snarled a response. Hisaulk could not make out the meaning, but for the moment, at least, the young carnosaur did not look at them as if they represented a potential meal.

  “What did it say?” Shremaza crowded near, with Arimat and Tryll close behind her.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Arimat pushed his head against his father’s flank. “It must have said something.”

  Hisaulk’s face was not flexible enough to allow him to frown, but he conveyed the same feeling with his voice. “I’m not confident of the exact translation, but I do know that we must find a way to escape. As quickly as possible.”

  “What about Keelk?” Shremaza was hesitant. “When she returns she will expect to find us here, in the company of these humans.”

  “If I’m understanding this new captive correctly, we’d better not wait for her. We have to find a way to help ourselves, or else we’re going to find ourselves in the middle of something uncomfortable.” His head twisted anxiously from side to side, large eyes studyi
ng the surrounding forest. “We have to get away from these people soon.”

  “But why, Father?” Tryll gazed up at him uncomprehendingly.

  “Isn’t it obvious, daughter? This juvenile was caught out alone, asleep and lethargic from several days of eating. Solitude for one so young is not the usual state of affairs.” He was looking past the new captive, past the celebrating, carousing humans, deep into the enigmatic forest.

  “From its look I would say it is the near equal in maturity to your older sister Keelk. We must get away before the parents return and see what has happened. They will be rightly outraged and inclined to react without thinking. I don’t want to be anywhere around when a pair of adult tyrannosaurs start reacting without thinking.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Tryll’s eyes widened as she, too, began to peer anxiously into the woods.

  “These foolish humans have no idea what they’ve gotten themselves into.” Shremaza allowed her two offspring to huddle close, though she could not put her arms about them. Struthiomimuses have an especially strong maternal instinct, which was why they often served as nursemaids for the human children of Dinotopia.

  “We need a translator.” Hisaulk added something under his breath. Not an obscenity, for such language was not in the nature of dinosaurs, but rather an expression of urgency. “When they return, this one’s parents are going to be extremely agitated, and not exactly amenable to reason.”

  WHEN THE TWO ADULT TYRANNOSAURS FINALLY DID RETURN from their

  wanderings to the sleeping site, night had progressed a fair ways down its nocturnal road. A light rain had been falling for hours, cloaking trees, flowers, and soil in a slick blanket of damp. With their captives in tow, the pirates had long since departed.

  Crookeye and Shethorn carefully walked the circumference of the glade. Despite the rain, their offspring’s scent remained strong on the short grass and surrounding flowers. Crookeye bent forward until his nostrils grazed the grass and methodically circled the opening, sniffing as he walked, his pillarlike legs leaving basin-sized footprints in the wet earth.