Concerning Smugglers: Part Seven

As the scimitar descended, there was the sound of a sharply indrawn breath. Bert's. Then there was only silence.

     Then a clink.

     "What the.." exclaimed the Techo, staring numbly at the Flotsam who had collapsed dazed to the floor. The sword had been wrenched out of Vinny's unresisting, unexpectant hands, seemingly embedded in Kip. The latest member of The Lost Sail got to his feet, groaning, and put a hand on his breastbone, feeling where the sword had impacted.

     "How the blazes are you still alive?" growled Vinny through his shock. Kip narrowed his eyes as he began to smile at the Techo.

     "You should have stolen my dubloons when you had the chance Vinny," explained Kip, "You never know when they will come in handy."

     Vinny grunted hoarsely, "Of course, those wretched dubloons have saved ye this time. This will however be the last time my dreams are foiled by the likes of you."

     At this, Vinny lunged forward to grab hold of the scimitar's handle, and with a sharp tug, pulled it free from where it hung, dubloon still embedded in the tip.

     "Kip," came a call from Bert. He had managed to wriggle one hand free from the half cut rope. The First Mate turned, first pulling the rag out of Captain Ratner's mouth, then throwing something towards the young Flotsam. Kip caught it smoothly, it was a scabbard. Inside was a sword, with a long scratch down the side. The blade of tempered steel glistened in the candlelight of the cabin. Kip knew this sword, had never before seen Bert parted from it, his most prized possession. It was Sally. Kip unsheathed it, feeling the weight in his hand.

     "Listen up, kid," barked Captain Ratner, spitting to wet his mouth, "I can't teach you to become a master swordsman in five seconds. But you just listen to what I say and we'll get through this."

     "Shut it, Ratner," snarled the Techo, as he fruitlessly tried to dislodge the dubloon in his sword. "That's an order."

     "Watch for his uppercut swing," warned Ratne. "It's faster than a knife peeling a potato, and you should know. Follow his eyes. They'll betray him. He can't help it the sneaking, conniving, excuse of a pirate. He won't fight fair, so you shouldn't either"

     Vinny gave up on the scimitar, and began swinging wildly towards Kip. The Flotsam backed quickly away as the Techo's sword sang through the air. Feeling the ground beneath him with his feet, Kip took a wide stance as he ducked under a vicious swipe from his blade. Vinny brought his sword vertically down; Kip instinctively raised Sally to protect him. There was a clash of blades, and Kip felt a huge pressure as Vinny bore down on him. The Techo was surprisingly strong for his size. He pushed Kip further back, pressing him against the wall. Kip's arm began to falter beneath the weight. As Vinny moved even closer, Kip stared into his eyes. They were bug-eyed and bloodshot, with a malicious glint. They betrayed no mercy.

     The words of Captain Ratner came back to Kip. Glancing down, he raised a foot, and stamped down hard. It impacted the soft flesh of Vinny's foot, and he howled in pain, recoiling from the Flotsam. He hopped around the room, cursing with vivid imagination. The sight was almost comical.

     "That's i', Kip," encouraged Bert. He was still struggling to free himself, both hands were out of the rope prison, "Show him wha' ye can do."

     Vinny turned again, to stare at Kip. Defiantly, Kip glared back watching the traitor's nostrils flare with anger. The two pirates circled one another, Vinny occasionally lunging towards the Flotsam. Kip either deftly stepped backwards, or used Sally to deflect the strike. The edge of Vinny's scimitar must be stronger than appearances led to believe. Perhaps even swords took after their owners. Kip's eyes bored into Vinny's, watching and waiting. There was a flicker in them, a quick glance to the left. Kip stepped right as Vinny swung with a vicious uppercut– as he predicted the Techo missed, the sword humming past the Flotsam's left shoulder. Vinny stumbled forward, Kip whirled and struck the traitor's scimitar with Sally in full force, hitting the sword where the dubloon was still held.

     Vinny's sword shattered in his hand.

     The Techo tumbled to the floor, still holding the broken remains of his hilt. Bellamy's hat fell off the Techo's head with a soft clatter. Kip stood panting with the exertion of his improvised move. Vinny howled, rolling to his feet. With a venomous glare, he stared first at his hand, then back to Flotsam.

     "You haven't seen the last of me, you coward," Vinny spat, flinging the wooden hilt at Kip. The Techo turned to run, out the cabin.

     "Not so fast now there, Vinny," came the booming voice of Crag the Kacheek. His huge bulk filled the doorway, preventing escape, "You're on your own now; all the others have been... well, they've been put to bed for the night."

     Vinny threw himself at the Kacheek. Crag, with the barest of efforts, held the Techo by the scruff of his neck, lifting him off the floor.

     "Now it be no good trying to struggle," Crag calmly said. "You an' me, well, we got to be having a nice little chat. Though I don't doubt the Cap'n will want a word or too first."

     The cook winked at Kip, who inclined his head in response, leaping over to the three ship's officers, who were still struggling against the binding rope. Carefully, Kip cut it with the Sally's sharp blade. He sheathed it and handed it to Bert.

     "Thank ye kindly," he said warmly, grasping Kip in a bonecrunching hug. "Now te deal with this... mu'ineer." Bert, rolled up his sleeves menacingly and made to stride towards the now frantically struggling Vinny.

     "Let me handle this, Bert," said the captain, placing a hand on his First Mate's shoulder. The Gelert stomped over to Vinny, each alternate step causing his wooden leg to thud heavily into the floor. He approached the Techo slowly and with deliberate care, who stopped his struggle and whimpered. The captain looked the Techo square in the eye.

     "You are not captain of this ship," affirmed Captain Ratner with authority. "You are no longer a smuggler of Smugglers Cove. You have now relinquished all rights to any plunder, loot or treasure, past, present or future. You have committed the most heinous crime imaginable. In betraying your captain, you have betrayed your ship. You have betrayed your family. And I know exactly what to do with a twisted traitor like you."

     He turned to Crag, who was still snarling at the limp Techo.

     "Tie him up," he ordered, "and make the gag particularly tight. I don't want to hear a peep out of him. I have a plan with what to do with him..."

      The next day...

     The sun was shining bright; it dazzled the surface of the waters surrounding Three-Leaf Isle. The waves were calm, gently caressing the rocks with a softness that seemed to mask the dangers that lay below. The Lost Sail was still, anchored in the tranquil seas, sails safely furled up in the rigging. Below the ship, Kip knew the countless treasure of The King's Sceptre lay in wait, gleaming in the darkness. All was silent, even the ship shifted in creakless sways, save for the sound of gentle splash growing steadily more distant.

     "I can safely report that is now looks like they're on the final approach to Three-Leaf Isle," said Bellamy, gazing through a spyglass. He cleared his throat. "It appears they've managed to avoid the worst of the rocks."

     "Shame," growled Bert, who was also staring fiercely through his own instrument. "Would have le' me sleep a lil easier tonigh'."

     "That is all of them then, is it, Bert?" asked Kip quietly.

     "Aye, that be all the trai'ors, alrigh'," Bert replied. "And I should know. It too' all five of 'em teh take the Cap'n and me down. Bellamy was of course, absolu'ly useless."

     "I was ensuring the preservation of our most precious procurements, especially the mirror," replied the navigator, carefully avoiding any rise in his voice. "Speaking of which. Young Kip, have you still got yours?"

     "Aye," said Kip, feeling inside his jacket to produce the mirror. "Safe and sound, thank Fyora."

     "Good, you'll need it again soon," came the voice of Captain Ratner. The Gelert's eyes gleamed as he stared out at the sea following the boat's progress to the island. It was a good solution; the smugglers could maintain their bloodthirsty reputation, for no-one had left Three-Leaf Isle in the history of Neopia, but without the pesky business of dealing with the traitors in a more ruthless fashion.

     "You've proven yourself a worthy pirate," mused the Captain further. "With a little bit of training, you might even become one of the best. Your right swing for instance, you tended to tilt your blade to the left slightly. Perhaps it would be best to teach you meself."

     "That. That would be an honour, cap'n," answered the Flotsam eagerly. To be taught by the legendary Captain Ratner would be the fulfilment of so many hours spent in hungry desire of the day he might join a real pirate crew.

     "But first," continued Captain Ratner, turning to Kip, "are you ready to make the smugglers the richest pirates in all of Neopia's five seas?"

     "Aye," replied Kip immediately.

     "Then let's go get that gold."

     A soft wind rang the bell of The Lost Sail as its newest crewmember prepared himself for yet another adventure.

The End