“Crinoo!” Red Whale muttered sharply. “I’ll be the one saying what I ought to be wondering, old salt! What I’ll be wondering is if you would explain yourself to me—tell me what you know of the Voi-Nil—if we have time to talk around my table? You would answer my questions then, I think?”
“You mean, sir, that you would be thinking of having me ship out with you, if I tell you?” BorMane asked. “You’ll have to want me, as well as want my story, if I’m to tell you.”
A gleam of happiness leaped in Captain Gumberpott’s eyes. “Shake on it!” he cried. “Aye, you old sea-bag. Daring Dream has a berth for a storyteller! She’s bound into the Voi-Nil in search of the Outer Rings and we’ve no maps but stories—we’ll be needing the best stories we can get. You’re aboard, Mr. BorMane!”
Captain Gumberpott, taking a long, loud slurp of his Sea Brew, continued, leaning nearer to his new crew member. “Old salt, Daring Dream is not a ship for liars. We’ll treasure your stories, even if there’s mistakes or things you forget—but, mark my words, a conscious lie that puts my crew in peril, and you’ll fight the sharks alone.”
“I come aboard as I have always served a ship,” BorMane replied evenly. “Never mind about lies. I tell you what I know and have seen...that is all. Take it or leave it. If you have harpooned more than a thousand sharks and lived to sell their teeth to fools as buy such rubbish—then, one wonders if a beast such as myself might know a thing or two without needing the kind advice of yourself. If you might like to hear where I run my harpoon through those monster-big sharks or cut the tail off a dragon, then I’d be pleased to sail with you. Take my word for it, however—I can judge my truth-telling without help from you.”
Red Whale chuckled and slapped the old Coyote on the back affectionately. “Beginning with sunset tomorrow, you’ll be expected at my table aboard Daring Dream each night for the ship’s council as makes the plans for the voyage. It’s my trust to you—and my hope for good success for both of us.”
Such a development left BorMane uncharacteristically quiet as he savored his joy in finding a ship that would once more take him to sea. His happy reflections, however, were quickly disrupted as two young Otters, Foggtutt and Rowl, bowled past him, dropping the buckets they were carrying; scattering potatoes around Bormane’s feet. Howling with delight, the rowdy little Otters tackled Fishbum—who was still standing nearby—around the knees, knocking him to the ground.
“Sail me! Sail me! Come on, sail me!” the young beasts yelled as they climbed on Fishbum’s back urging him to give them a ride. Fishbum gamely tossed the two stubby Otters on his back and began to run wildly, swaying and weaving as if he were a ship being tossed by a storm.
“And the hurricane roared for twenty days!” Fishbum screeched. “The good ship Otter Death was battered by FIFTY FOOT WAVES—and every seabeast aboard was sure it was the end!” Up and down Fishbum bobbed, going around and around in wild circles. “And every beast was sick and feeling green around the gills,” he screeched, sounding like some horrific monster of the deep. “The sails were in shreds, the masts cracked and falling to pieces—and soon only the two brave Otter Mates were left—and THEY WENT DOWN WITH THE SHIP!” Fishbum finished, as he collapsed on the ground panting for breath.
Foggtutt and Rowl squealed with glee and tumbled off as Fishbum fell. But hardly an instant had passed and they were up again, pulling on Fishbum to play some more. But he was not in a mood to play the “good ship Fishbum” again, although he did have in mind further amusement for the young Otters.
“Hey-ho, Captain! Seeking your permission to take these wee bits of rascal and throw them to the sharks!” he yelled.
“Permission granted,” Red Whale answered, laughing heartily.
Grabbing the young Otters, Fishbum called on Katteo Jor’Dane to go off to bring one of the large sail-canvas tablecloths. As she ran off to get the canvas cloth, Fishbum, holding Foggtutt and Rowl securely, presented them to Captain Gumberpott with mock solemnity.
“Let it be known to all the Powers of the Sea and all Good SeaBeasts that sail the Far Points of the Compass, that these here Bits o’ Rascal have been tried and found guilty of worrying and annoying Master Fishbum, Sea-King of This Sand Where I Stand! Be it so ordered, therefore, that these wee Otters be thrown to the sharks!”