Puffing and hollering, the Heavers gradually moved the wildly spinning longboats down the course. Each team fought to hold its own in the rugged contest as the boats went up and down, around and around, in the dizzying race.
Red Whale roared with laughter as he watched the comic spectacle. Running his arm across his eyes to wipe away the tears of laughter that had gathered there, he glanced out toward the bay. Turning suddenly ashen, the smile faded from his face. A strange figure was climbing the rigging of the Daring Dream! No beast had been left aboard to take care of the ship. Every member of the crew was ashore! The beast in the riggings was unfurling the sails. The ship was being stolen!
“STATIONS! TO STATIONS! STATIONS! STATIONS! TO THE SHIP! THE SHIP IS BEING STOLEN! IT’S A SNEAK ATTACK!” Red Whale roared, flying into action.
One look toward the ship told everyone Captain Gumberpott was right. Instantly, the Heavers set the longboats down where they were. The Cheat-Break contest was forgotten. Daring Dream crew-beasts scrambled to launch the longboats. Captain Gumberpott was already pulling on the oars as BorMane, Fishbum, and Katteo Jor’Dane splashed through the shallows and clambered into the boat. The rest of the Daring Dream crew ran to the boats, jumping aboard in tangled masses of arms and legs as the longboats rapidly pulled away from the beach. Diving and leaping through waist-deep water the last members of the crew caught the final departing longboat and pulled themselves aboard.
Pulling hard on the oars, the crew-beasts grunted and groaned as the oars dipped in the waves. The iron-armed seabeasts had never rowed more urgently. With each jangle of the oars in the oarlocks, the heavy longboats seemed to take flight, leaping across the next wave.
But as the longboats drew closer to the Daring Dream, a babble of surprised muttering rose from the crew.
“Nay-O, n’ what’s the attack? I’d see nar’t more than a single beast on the Dream!”
“Tha’rs nar’t but a wee little cockboat tied up there! Don’t look to be a warrin’ ship!”
“There’s narry but a Sea Wolf up there in the riggin’—just a one!”
“Arr! What’s ta meanin’ of all this? Be it a lone Wolf Rummer?”
Reaching the ship first, Captain Gumberpott clambered up the ladder. Just as he stepped onto the deck, the Sea Wolf who had been unfurling the sails, swung easily down to the deck on a rope. Dressed in the rough style of one a long away from home, the Wolf wore a badly worn, but neatly mended, crimson waistcoat and pants, with plain sea cotton shirt, and lizardskin boots. A long red feather poked jauntily from the side of the snug cap she wore tightly pulled on her head. A reddish bronze chain hung around the Wolf’s thick neck, with an unusual hooked chunk of blood-red glass attached to it. A short sword was in a scabbard on her belt, and a rolled up net hung from a sling across her back. Streaks of white hair scattered among the Wolf’s otherwise long dark red-brown mane marked her as a “well weathered old varmit,” as Winja had described Bem Madsoor on another occasion.
For indeed it was none other than Bem Madsoor, herself. Burned by the sun to the color of mahogany, the swarthy Wolf’s long, thin face mimicked her rangy height. Standing at least a foot taller than those gathered around, she could look down on everyone except Red Whale. Yet, with the long feather in the close-fitting cap she wore, she made up even those few inches. Landing lightly on the deck, the Wolf reached deftly behind her back. With nearly magical speed and grace she loosened the rolled net she carried and tossed it high in the air. With a bemused smile, Bem watched the net drop neatly over Red Whale, and—fast as lightning—yanked a cord to pull the net tight around the captain. Stepping toward Fishbum, standing dumb-struck beside his captain, the Wolf drew her sword and—THUNK!—struck it into the deck in front of him. Noticing that his seacoat was not buttoned—and obviously intending to be rude—Bem proceeded to carefully button it from bottom to top.