“You see that star low in the sky over there,” she said, pointing toward the far western horizon. “You see how that star shimmers so differently from the other stars? That’s because the air is so hot and wet over there that it makes the light dance in a crazy way. That doesn’t happen except in Ogress season. When that early star starts to dance you’ve got a few days until the first Ogress storms begin. We have maybe ten days to get beyond the Ogress seas. With ten good days of favoring wind, we can make more than a thousand miles and that’s enough to get well across of the Ogress seas before the season begins. Either that or we stay here for two months until the Ogress season is over. You’re the captain and any good captain will do the same.” Bem smiled at Red Whale and clapped him on the shoulder. Captain Gumberpott said nothing, realizing that Bem Madsoor was likely correct but also knowing that poorly done repairs could have disastrous results.
“Come on, Captain,” she laughed, “surely you don’t refuse a pleasant voyage before the storm...and prefer to be pounded by waves the size of a mountain?”
“Sure ’n it’s like that, ya flim-flammin’ bag ’o wheeze!” BorMane burst out as he stepped forward to join the conversation. “Don’ cha be wheezin’ about the Ogress. There’s ways ta fly across the seas and non’ be payin’ visits ta the Ogress. Sleepin’ with dragons and pickin’ shark’s teeth bein’ the way—and what ship except Darin’ Dream be fitted for that, I’m askin’ ya? Why she’s ta strongest ship I ever sailed and that’s why her belly’s built for haulin’ riches!”
“You say you’ve sailed the Daring Dream?” Captain Gumberpott exclaimed.
“Aye, Capt’n,” BorMane replied, “T’was the first voyage of Darin’ Dream that the dragon split me head...we’d shipped out for the Rummin’ Lanes. The ship’s owner heard there was riches ta be had tradin’ in trallés and rummer points. Now where’s the Rummin’ Lanes? All we know’d t’was beyond whatever we knew. Aye, we didn’t know zact’ly where we was headed. Bard Chop—t’was the owner of Darin’ Dream—just says, ‘Sail into the Voi-Nil, so’west ’o the settin’ sun and find the island called First Past. That’ll be all ya need to fill with treasures...’ and that was all we simple crew-beasts knew.”
“And did ye find treasure?” Red Whale asked with interest.
“Aye, that we did,” the old Coyote replied. “Darin’ had a belly full of dragons—and dragons are gold in the Rummin’ Lanes. Ya capture dragons and ya bein’ rich. We filled the belly of Darin’ Dream with dragons—Aye, ya fancy that, mates—Dragons!—’n sailed on to the Second Past, which bein’ smack in the Rummin’ Lanes. Dragons is gold, ’n we traded ’em to a Rummer Boar—Sabre Tusk d’Newolf...”
Whirling rapidly to the side, BorMane stepped toe-to-toe with Bem Madsoor, who had leaped toward him, her face contorted with rage.
“...’n don’t be cussin’ and spitin’ about him either, or I’ll split yer gut!” BorMane said firmly.
“Sabre Tusk is slaver scum!” Bem yelled. “There’s not a worse outlaw on the seas! Don’t you go defending him, Old Salt! Sabre left me for dead and that’s the best thing he ever did. How many Sharkish villages has he burned and plundered? How many Sharkicts has he made into galley slaves? His crimes are beyond counting! And you defend him? Nay! You always dare to speak his name in praise! Let me end that now! Stand with your sword and I’ll slice his memory right out of your brain!”
With such speed that he more heard the whistle of Bem’s sword slicing past his ear than saw it, a large swatch of BorMane’s long grizzled hair dropped to the deck.
“There, you jelly-brained Rummer-lover!” Bem warned. “Let that be notice of what happens to friends of Rummer-scum!”
BorMane slowly bent over and picked up the swatch of hair. With a crooked smile, he laid it across his open paw, and held it out to Bem. “Nice bit o’ sword work, mate! Can’t claim I’ve seen better ’n that. Here, lay yer paw on mine—let this slice o’ an old seabeast’s hair be an oath-token a’tween us. Ya hear me out in m’ story, and I’ll not be mentionin’ Sabre Tusk a’gin.”
Bem shot a long steely gaze straight into BorMane’s eyes before replying. “Aye, Old Salt, I accept the oath-token, but on one condition—You will also hear my own story. We will exchange our stories, then speak not again of Sabre Tusk.”
“Done, an’ sure ’n it’s a promise,” BorMane answered.
The Daring Dream crew, who had been watching these developments tensely, relaxed again. Admiring comments about Bem’s speed and skill with a sword and jokes about BorMane’s new haircut rippled among the crew. There was obvious relief that a more serious fight had not occurred between two beasts that all now considered friends.
“An’ now I’ll be sayin’ that we was tradin’ dragons—just like I was sayin’ before—when I tripped o’re a coil o’ rope and fell flat-dab in front o’ a dragon. Slickin’ a snap that dragon jus’ sliced me head open. Now you knowin’ that’s certain death—bein’ a dragon bite. No beast lives long after a dragon bite—jus’ meltin’ away in a pile of purple, crusty skin and fits o’ coughin’.