Overboard!

by Michael White

“Can’t say I have.” said Boom.

  “I see.” Whispered Neep, lying down again. “I have.”

  Boom seemed at a loss for what to say, but just then the cabin door opened and Daisy entered, smiling at Boom and then giving a glance of concern to Neep lying on the bunk. Neep sat back up however as Daisy came in, as if she was the cue to his dilemma, his face showing almost a look of expectation.

  “Could you leave us please, Mister Boom?” asked Daisy, and the bombardier stood up instantly almost as if he was glad to be leaving. “Neep and I have things to discuss.”

  “Certainly captain.” said Boom, almost running from the room and closing the door behind him. Daisy moved the chair nearer to the bunk and sat down.

  “How are you?” She asked.

  “I feel okay really.” Said Neep, “Some cuts and bruises but nothing important.”

  “I came to…” began Daisy, but Neep cut her off.

  “I killed a man.” said Neep quietly. “Every time I close my eyes I see his head explode.” tears began to form in Neep’s eye. “I can’t stand it!” he shouted and Daisy reached out and held his arm.

  “This is something your SOPE manual has no entry for, then?” she smiled and Neep shook his head, tears beginning to stream down his face.

  “The cover of this manual has a very big picture, I imagine?” asked Daisy and Neep nodded. “Let me see.” She said, “Probably a tall man bristling with tattoos and muscles, one foot on a large chest overflowing with gold and treasure?” Neep nodded again. “Almost certainly carrying in his arms a buxom wench who is staring at him with gratitude.” Neep nodded a final time. “Heaving bosom too I would have thought.” she laughed, and Neep chuckled slightly.

  “Funny how life is never really like how it is written down.” She said. “Yet now here we are and already your manual reveals its inaccuracy.”

  “When we were prisoners in The Black Tooth you said to me when I was pointing the gun at Blade “Do not do this for me.”” said Neep. “Also when we were preparing to leave the broken cell you spat on Blade’s corpse and said, “That is not for what you would have done to me, but what you have done to him.”.”

  Daisy looked awkwardly about the room, but remembered Neep’s lithographic memory. It appeared that he really did not forget anything at all.

  “You were not meant to remember that.” She whispered, “Though it would appear to be indeed correct that you rarely forget things.”

  “Were you referring to me when you said that to Blade’s corpse?” asked Neep.

  “Yes.”

  “Then why did you say prior to that that I was not to shoot him? He deserved to die.” To Neep’s surprise Daisy looked angry. “He would have raped you and then killed both of us. Then he would probably have killed the old man too just because he could.”

  “Yes he would have done all of that.” spat Daisy. “There is no doubt about what he had in mind.”

  “So why did you say not to shoot him?” asked Neep, consternation showing on his face.

  “Because who are you or I to decide his fate?” Asked Daisy. “Make no doubt about it you saved my life.” she hesitated, “Our lives. Yet truly who has the right to decide life or death. Still, it is a fortuitous outcome, that’s for sure, but it is the consequences that I was more concerned with.”

  “Consequences?” asked Neep, puzzled.

  “Yes. Let me explain.” Daisy nestled herself into the chair a little more, her expression almost far away for a second before she returned her attention to Neep.

  “I was once from a prosperous merchant family, though my parents were lost at sea many years ago now. I had a little experience with a sword, and a definite knack for using it, but I was an only child and so I inherited my parent’s estate when they failed to return and news of a ship lost at sea came to be heard. The life of a merchant awaited me, but I could not apply myself to it. One night I took as much cash as I could carry and climbed over the estate walls and I have never been back. Less than one week later I was holed up in a crumbling port on the Goldfinch Archipelago when a rogue whose name I never knew tried to rob me when I left the Inn. As I say, I was young but not necessarily naive, and so he came off worse. I was good with a sword even then.”

  Daisy drifted off into silence, the sound of the sea crashing against the hull filling the cabin. She continued after a moment.

  “I stuck a dagger in his heart, Neep. Or at least I thought I did. Must have missed a little because I sat there for five minutes, my dagger in his chest, bleeding his life away into his lap. Sometimes when I go to sleep I still see him, blood frothing at his mouth pleading for me to help.”

  “I see.” said Neep. “That is what you meant by what Blade had done to me.”

  “Mostly.” She sat musing, lost in thought before continuing. “Have you any idea how many islands and states hereby offer a reward on my head?”

  “No idea.” laughed Neep.

  “Twenty-seven.” Said Daisy, a brief smile flitting across her face before disappearing again.

  “I have spent all of my life since leaving home sleeping with one eye open, sword by my side. Every time I walk in a room or meet someone I have not met before I have to live up to the expectations of the reputation that is always walking silently but two paces in front of me.” She sighed deeply, “Sometimes a little peace would be much more preferable.”

  “So you think Blade has made me more than a little like you.”

  “Yes.” she said, squeezing his arm. “When I first brought you aboard my ship…”

  “Kidnapped me, you mean!” Laughed Neep and Daisy chuckled.

  “Yes. Kidnapped you, then. I thought that your idea of pirate consultant was actually quite amusing; cute even,” Neep blushed furiously and went to say something but Daisy hushed him. “As you have found the actuality of piracy is much less like the stuff of tales. It is blood close up; guts and devilry and greed.” Neep nodded, and Daisy looked a little sad.

  “Yet also it is a life of trying to reconcile your deeds with as much honour as you can scrape from the situations you find yourself in.” She tapped the side of her nose slowly. “Sleeping with one eye open isn’t so bad after all,” she smiled, “The consequences of not doing so are far worse.”

  “You are saying I must live with the outcome of my actions.”

  “Yes,” said Daisy simply.

  “Yet not let it colour my future.”

  “That too.” said Daisy. “There is no doubt that Nick Blade was an evil man and the world is a better place without him. Let that be enough.” She patted Neep on the arm, standing as she did so. She looked down at him lying on the bunk and she seemed somehow eased of a burden to Neep, as if by sharing her tale she had made his future a little less difficult too.

  The image of Blade was still there in his mind, yet already he was trying to reconcile it with an image of what might have happened had he not taken the action he had. Looked at that way the actual outcome seemed the much better option.

  “You have a map to transcribe from memory.” She said, smiling.

  “You are not going to put me off the ship once I have done it then?” Asked Neep, frowning.

  “Of course not. I think you can drop the “consultant” part of your job description now Mister Neep. She opened and stepped through the door, before turning and leaning back into the cabin.

  “Besides, someone has to keep an eye out for you.” She smiled. “My cabin in fifteen minutes.” Neep nodded in agreement and she silently closed the door behind her.

  ***

  “So what exactly were you in prison for?” asked Bones as the old man shovelled some more salted pork onto his plate. The old man had settled in well, Daisy giving him a few tasks in the ship’s galley, cleaning up and so forth, which he had settled into the routine as if he had always been there. Bones was pleased that the crew seemed to like him too. He was a genial soul and made friends easily. Bones however was slightly curious.

  “Can’t remembe
r really,” Said the old man, his face showing no signs of guile or deception whatsoever, thought Bones. He was certainly telling the truth. “Architecture I think.”

  “You were in prison for architecture?” Laughed Bones and the old man looked as if he was trying to rack his brains for a response.

  “Bad architecture.” He said finally, and gave a small smile. Bones laughed.

  “So you are an architect?”

  “Not at all. Hence the prison term.” The old man paused but seemed to come to a decision that not even this was certain. “I think it was architecture anyway.”

  Laughing, Bones tried a different approach.

  “So how long had you been locked away in The Black Tooth for then?”

  “Oh it must be about two thousand sticks.” said the old man matter of factly.

  “A stick being a day?” The old man seemed to think this was hilarious, laughing aloud and slapping his knees.

  “Of course not! What a thought that would be!” He leaned forward to Bones, now almost whispering. “A stick is but three scratches and slightly less than two fleas.”

  “Right.” said Bones as the old man leaned back again. This was going nowhere, he reflected. “So you had been in prison quite a while. Your bad architecture must have really got under The Beak’s skin for him to lock you up for so long.”

  “Never met him.” said the old man. “I’d been in there for a while before he came along.” Bones was surprised. No wonder the old man couldn’t remember how long he had been held captive for. He must have been in there for decades at least!

  “We don’t even know your name.” said Bones gently.

  “Nor do I.” sighed the old man.” He stared off into space as if trying to remember if he had indeed once had a name, but seemed to draw a blank. “You can call me Dormouse.” he said eventually. “It is as good a name as any other.”

  “Dormouse?” laughed Bones.

  “Indeed. I quite like the ring of it to tell the truth. Seems to float on the air well, don’t you think?” Bones chuckled. The old man had been too long on his own in a cell for certain.

  “Why Dormouse?” he asked.

  “Well I don’t make a lot of noise and also I am partial to a piece of cheese or two.” he smiled, holding out his plate as the cook passed the table.

  “Okay.” laughed Bones, “Dormouse it is!”

  “Excellent.” said the old man as the cook placed a large slab of cheese onto his plate which the man then started to devour ravenously.

  ***

  Neep placed the pen down in the ink pot and lifted the parchment from the table and blew on it, drying the ink.

  “That is it done?” asked Daisy quietly.

  “It is.” said Neep proudly.

  “Perfect in every detail?”

  “It is.” Neep stretched out his legs under the table, around which was sitting Daisy, Bones and Boom. The man named Dormouse had wandered in half way through the task of transcribing the map was underway, and he had been so quiet nobody was surprised when Bones explained his new name.

  Daisy took the map from the table and kissed it.

  “Mister Neep you are a genius!” She smiled, before placing it back on the table and beginning to examine it. The map definitely showed a path beyond the fearsome Seven Tines, but made no mention of how to circumnavigate them. The small symbols on the map key remained as enigmatic as ever, though Daisy did note that they did look exactly the same as the markings she had seen when the edge of the map had been revealed during their incarceration in The Black Tooth.

  “It is a remarkable thing this lithographic memory of yours, Mister Neep!” Exclaimed Boom and Neep found himself swelling with pride. When he had dressed and left his cabin the ship’s crew had come to a standstill and cheered him loudly, his back being slapped numerous times as he made his way to Daisy’s cabin. No doubt they had heard of how he had saved Daisy, and he had been almost floating with pride by the time he began transcribing the map.

  He had cleared his mind to do so of course, but there was no real need for every detail was in his head, waiting to be replicated on the parchment before him. It felt good however to at least for now be able to consign the memory of his part in Blade’s demise to the back of his mind.

  “So these are the symbols that the priests of Ciniomawr can translate?” asked Boom.

  “According to Dormouse here, yes.” Said Bones. As if to confirm this the old man nodded in agreement.

  “Priest.” Said the old man. “Singular. Only ever one of them, apparently. Bit like a kind of God by proxy thing I seem to recall. Saves on the uniform costs too I would have thought. Never mind the endless praying.”

  “Priest then.” Said Daisy, “you said that the language is Scurthian.”

  “Old Scurthian.” corrected Dormouse. “The new one is a little less elegant.” He sniffed haughtily. “All dashes and crosses. Not a real language if you ask me. Quite possibly involves the use of flags. I forget now.”

  “How long until we reach Ciniomawr then?” asked Neep.

  “Two days, though I suspect Jenkins has at least a day’s lead on us. He will be there by tomorrow, though if this south-westerly wind continues we will be but about twelve hours behind him. Let us hope they see Jenkins for the mad old fool that he really is.”

  “Anything else you can tell us about the occupants of Ciniomawr, Dormouse?” asked Boom and the old man stared off into space as if trying to remember.

  “Not really.” He sighed eventually, “The single priest is separate from the chief of the tribe I seem to recall. Not very many members of the tribe really it is said. Couple of hundred perhaps. Keep themselves pretty much to themselves usually.”

  “Well I shall lead the parley then.” said Daisy. “We need to get these symbols translated as fast as we can so we can discover if capability Jones did indeed find a way to navigate through the Seven Tines. If so, then the map clearly shows the way to the lost island of El Bongo.”

  “Unless they are hungry.” said Dormouse from behind them.

  “Sorry?” said Daisy, staring at the old man who seemed to be munching on a small hard piece of cheese he had produced from his pocket.

  “Keep themselves pretty much to themselves unless they are hungry.” The old man rubbed his chin, “Cannibals, you see.”

  Daisy groaned. “Nothing is ever straightforward, is it?” she sighed. “Pray tell how you know that they are cannibals?”

  “I have travelled.” said Dormouse indignantly. “I haven’t always been old and forgetful.” He paused for a moment as if reconsidering this, before adding, “Forgetful perhaps yes, but not always old.”

  “Well them being cannibals is not a problem at all!” laughed Bones, “Though I suspect that now it will be myself who leads the parley!”

  “Why you?” asked Neep and to his surprise Bones opened his robe, showing the bare bones of his skeleton frame inside the clothes.

  “Thin pickings.” he laughed. “Very thin pickings indeed!”

  Chapter 25

  ~ Tea and Acrimony ~

  Mister Blue Felt sat in the office of Bradley Mackrell, the mayor of Hard Knocks, attempting to give the impression that he was very much in control. He was not doing terribly well however. Even the white cat he had on his knee seemed to be a little skittish. The much lower than normal chair on which he was sat did not help of course, nor did the fact that he had been required to leave his hat on the hat stand outside the office.

  The mayor did not seem to be paying him much attention however, for as Blue Felt leaned forward to get a better look at the top of his desk he saw that Mackrell was placing several what looked like chess pieces on the table in an apparently random manner. Mackrell’s deliberations about where exactly to put the pieces however seemed to suggest that the placing of them was anything but random.

  The mayor thumped a small piece in the centre of the table. It was larger than the rest and looked like a small keep or castle. There appeared to be a
candle stuck in the top of it. Two pieces in the shape of ships were next, closely followed by what looked like a hangman and quite possibly a pair of thumbscrews. Mackrell sat there staring at them for a while and then straightened up, folding his arms on the table. It was the first time the mayor had even looked at Blue Felt since he had entered, and the leader of The Golden Octopus tried to look down his nose at the mayor in an imperious way, stroking the cat for all it was worth. Mackrell didn’t even flinch.

  Suddenly the mayor moved back from the desk, startling Blue Felt who shot back in his chair himself. Mackrell however was opening a draw in his desk from where he produced a small taper and flint. As the Golden Octopus leader watched he lit the taper and held it to the candle on the largest piece on the table, the one that looked a little like a castle. It was at that point that Blue Felt realised it was not a candle at all. This decision was aided by the loud fizzing sound that was coming from the lit fuse. Mackrell paid it no heed, however, replacing the flint and taper in his draw and closing it firmly before leaning back from his desk, surveying the pieces on top of his desk carefully, and with vague element of pride in a job well done.

  Now the mayor glared at the leader of The Golden Octopus across the desk and slightly below him, the lit fuse slowly burning down between them. Blue Felt tried to remain aloof but he could not help glancing at the fuse, and he gulped loudly, a sickly grin just about settling on his face.

  “Pigeons have come from Nine Wells.” said the Mayor sternly. “Looks like you’ve got a bit of explaining to do, my lad.”

  “Explaining of what, pray tell?” said Blue Felt, a slight tremble appearing in his voice to his consternation. He stroked the cat as if to distract attention from himself.

  “Well now, lad.” Said the mayor, suddenly moving the small object that looked like a set of thumbscrews a bit nearer to Blue Felt. “First of all you tell me you’re sending this Neep bloke off with soft arse Jenkins in search of ruddy treasure.” Blue Felt nodded. He had had pigeons back too, just before he had been summoned to the mayor’s office by three men with pistols and a length of thick rope.