Concerning Smugglers: Part Two

"Do you think he's still alive?"

     "Maybe he be, maybe he be not. Let's check. Pass me that bucket."

     Kip head was sagging groggily. He heard shuffling and a loud clunking before he managed to prise his eyes open. He did so just in time to see the cold seawater that was thrown directly into his face with an almighty crash. Spluttering he sat bolt upright and wiped at his eyes furiously. The seeping mass of water had managed to enter through just about every point on his face.

     "Aye, he's still alive."

     Kip felt the cold water trickling down his back, or perhaps that was sweat. It was hard to tell. He looked up through misty, waterlogged eyes and saw the outline of two pirates, silhouetted by the moonlight. Kip shook his head to try and dislodge more of the water, it tasted bitter on his tongue. Then he felt the familiar sharp tang of a blade at his throat.

     "On your feet," a voice commanded.

     Kip did so carefully, keeping one eye on the glinting edge that was so dangerously close. With his other he tried to casually size up the two pirates smiling eerily at him. There was Vinny again, his eyes flashed with cunning, the other pirate was a squat blue Kacheek, as round as a barrel. The latter had bright eyes, which stood out in contrast to his greying fur. They had a spark quite unlike Vinny's, youthful and friendly. Naturally, it was Vinny holding the curving blade.

     "Forgive me, but your name seems to have slipped my mind," leered the Techo. "Would you be so kind as to remind me?"

     "My name's Kip," Kip replied warily.

     "Of course," said Vinny. "Now, it may just be my memory playing up, but I'm sure that our First Mate Bert told you to never come back here again. That is what he said, isn't it, Crag?"

     "Aye, that's right," said Crag the Kacheek. "I remember it clear as day."

     "I thought I was right." Vinny moved closer to Kip, inspecting him from every angle. "And yet here you are, staring right at me, bold as brass. Didn't you hear. We don't be needing any new crew. So what be you doing here?"

     "I just wanted to see the boat from close up," Kip said, standing proudly. "It's a beautiful galleon."

     "He has a point," said Crag the Kacheek, turning to Vinny. "She is beautiful. I would want to take a closer look if I had never seen it before. He's only a young lad after all, I say..."

     "You know full well your say doesn't hold much stead around here, Crag," came a voice from behind the two pirates. Vinny quickly slid the curved sword back to his waistband and turned towards the voice.

     "Good evening, Cap'n," he said with sickening politeness, "and you too First Mate. How pleasant to see you this fine n..."

     "Shu' it, Vinny," interrupted a voice that could only be Bert's. Vinny assented with a slight jerk of his head. Both Vinny and Crag the Kacheek stepped to the side as the Gelert and Bert approached the still dripping Kip.

     "Well, here you are again," said the Captain admiringly. "You are a persistent lad, aren't you? What shall we do with you..."

     "P'raps we should throw him back overboard," suggested Vinny.

     "Perhaps," said the Captain, a sudden frown betraying his annoyance at the interruption. "However..."

     He beckoned Bert near and murmured into his ear, whose expression broke into a smile, his rotten teeth splayed unflatteringly. Kip was bewildered; the events seemed to be passing his eyes too quickly to keep up, especially following his previous rapid descent. After a few whispered interchanges, the Gelert nodded conclusively.

     "So it's settled then." he said thoughtfully. "Crag, take this young chap with you back to the kitchens. He can be your assistant, I'm sure he will be extremely efficient at that, won't you, Kip?"

     Kip nodded wide-eyed.

     "Good, I'll be calling for you later." He turned to Bert. "Set sail and man the wheel, mate. I'll be in the cabin."

     "Hoist the sail! Cast off the anchor!" barked Bert loudly to the rest of the ship. "Man the riggin'. Get movin', ye landlubbers. We be setting sail immedia'ley."

     "Excuse me, sir," said Kip.

     "That be 'Cap'n sir,' to you, young lad." The Gelert winked.

     "Sorry, excuse me, Cap'n," corrected Kip, "but does that mean I'm part of the crew?"

     "Let's just say, you're a temporary swashbuckler and leave it be," laughed the Gelert. "Welcome aboard The Lost Sail."

     With this, the Gelert turned on his heel and stomped back to his cabin. Around him the pirates scrambled to set the ship ready for sail. The flag was lifted up the mast and stood proudly proclaiming the skull and cross bones motif that was so closely associated with the smugglers of Krawk Island. It was often said that if any merchant ship on the Mystery Island Straight saw the flag on the horizon, it was often better to flee than cross the pirates of Smugglers Cove. It was well known they could be ruthless if interrupted during a prosperous voyage.

     As the main sail rose into the air, allowing the wind to fill it, the ship began to move. Crag pulled on the sleeve of Kip and beckoned him towards a door. They both stepped through it and it shut behind them. The hubbub of the pirates voyage preparations beyond faded away and Kip found himself standing in a long thin galley. The floor beneath them was grimy and sticky. Down the lefthand wall there was a long line of battered wooden counters. At the far end was a heavy-duty door leading to a small pantry, where the cook would keep all the food for a long voyage stowed safely away, at least from the ever hungry hands of pirates.

     "This is the Galley," announced Crag, "and it belongs to me. Up on deck, the Captain's word is law, but down here, I'm the master. None can tell me what to do in my Galley."

     Kip nodded and looked around the room more intently. A strip of windows topped the counters, looking out over the open ocean. The shadow of the ship was making it too difficult to see much through it however. On the right hand side there was another door. The Kacheek walked over to it and pushed it open.

     "This be where you sleep." Crag pointed to a small bed in a tiny room. "I sleep in the Doctor's Room. We don' be needing no Doctors on this ship and that bed is a little too... below my station if you get my drif'."

     He patted his heaving bulk and shut the door. He walked over to the pantry, unlocking it with a hefty key from around his neck

     "In the meantime, we best be finding you some work to do for the morn. Ye can start by peeling these potatoes."

     He lifted out a sack, placing it on the counter, the potatoes gently spilled out the top. The Kacheek opened a drawer and pulled out a blunt knife, throwing it to the Flotsam. Kip caught it deftly, surprising himself.

     "I'll be seeing you tomorrow, you best have the potatoes done by then, I'll be in my room, dreaming up some new recipes." He winked. Crag locked the heavy pantry door carefully behind him. He squeezed past Kip and he walked back onto deck, pushing the door open. Kip heard the briefest clammer of noise from outside before the door shut again. A key turned in the lock, and Kip was left alone.

     Kip let out a long pent up breath and let himself relax somewhat. He had done it! He wasn't quite sure how, but he was on the pirate ship and part of the crew. Reaching behind him, Kip felt for his waistcoat; it was still securely tied on his fin. He undid the knot and took it off, slipping it back on him. It was cool against his skin. He felt through his pockets. Surprisingly, despite the ordeal, everything was still present, his dubloons safe in his leftmost pocket.

     He picked up a potato and spun it gently in his hand. He might as well begin his work, and although it wasn't the most admirable job to do on the ship, someone had to do it. It might as well be him, besides, he thought it wise to make a good first impression. He began to peel the potato, taking one slice off the edge at a time, placing the peelings to one side and the peeled core in a bucket. As he worked, he looked out the window. The ship had been moving; he could now just about see the waves sliding gracefully beneath them.

     The ship creaked with the strain, pushing its bow through the water. Kip recalled the name of the ship, 'The Lost Sail' the captain had said. But he hadn't managed to catch the Gelert Captain's name yet. He worked at the potatoes, peeling and placing, and before too long, whilst lost in his thoughts, he had reached the bottom of the sack, scraping the rough fabric. He peered into the bucket; it was full to the brim. He put the small knife down, thought better of it, and slipped it into his pocket. You never knew when a weapon would come in handy.

     Kip yawned. It must be late by now. He wearily opened the door to his room. It was cosy, but not big. There was a bed pressed against one wall, which looked to be just the right size for a small Flotsam. A straw mattress with a thin blanket lay upon a few slats of wood. Upon the head of the bed rested a solitary small pillow. A small bedside cabinet stood on the side of the bed. There was no light in the bedroom. Kip therefore took the swinging lantern from the galley and placed it on the bedside table. Its bright spluttering light filled the room. Kip sat on the bed and shut the door. He curled up and blew the lantern out with a puff.

     He instantly fell asleep to the rocking motion of the ship. That night Kip dreamt of swashbuckling with the pirates, visiting distant lands beyond, creeping past guards with boxes of illicit goods, and most of all, sharing in the booty. He smiled in his sleep as he imagined himself surrounded by dubloons. He was excited. His pirate adventures were just beginning...

To be continued...