But I bein’ standin’ here with ya—now how can that bein’ right? I askin’ ya? How can that bein’ right?”
BorMane paused, looking around the crew, before smiling again at Bem. “Well, it bein’ right because Sabre Tusk saved me hide, that’s how it bein’ right! He—and it weren’t none but ’im very self—rubbin’ the wound with a pack o’ mud n’ dag fungus the Sharkicts use on jellyfish stings. ’N I’m here today because Sabre Tusk put that mudpack on t’wound n’ made me drink some in water every day. How close I came t’throwin’ m’soul Over t’Waves. But Sabre Tusk saved me! That bein’ the right o’it—say what else y’may about ’im. Yah, I served ’im for many a year. Am I bein’ proud o’ his burnin’ and plunderin’? Nay—I not bein’ proud o’it—but I’ll ever bein’ grateful to ’im for not throwin’ m’soul Over t’Waves. N’ why did I bein’ such a sorry beast, take ’is fancy enough to bein’ worth savin’? Why I could un’erstand all the Sharkish folk—all the scattered, isolated bits o’speakin’ I could un’erstand, n’ Sabre Tusk had not a bit o’kindness in ’im, but he weren’t an fog-top either. ’N when he sees that I un’erstand the Sharkicts—yet I never bein’ there a’fore—why he’s thinkin’ I’m some kind’er a magical seein’ beast or other, n’ plops me in ’is crew.”
“You’d never been there before, yet knew the language?” Bem said with surprise.
“Yah, n’ that bein’ the sure thing o’it, mate!” BorMane laughed. “See what good there bein’ in listenin’ a bit, rather than jumpin’ all t’pot and swingin’ yer blade every wish-what? Ticht…ticht…ticht…Me sayin’ I’d never been there before don’t mean I weren’t there before! M’Pappy bein’ a Whale-Sailor all o’ the seas. One day we bein’ anchored in a bay some’wit at sea, just restin’ our whales and lettin’ em fish as they’d like, ’n we was picked off by some Wrackshee raiders—so, ya seein’ it was mor’in like I bein’ a wee beast and takin’ by some Wrackshees n’ sold for slave. How’in I got from there to bein’ on board the Darin’ Dream is mor’in the story I’ve got to tell now—but that bein’ the main o’it.”
“So you must have sailed across the Voi-Nil and back again!” Fishbum exclaimed.
“Yah, ’n a fair bit mor’n that for sure,” BorMane chuckled. Why, I bein’ up ’n down ’n back across every sea that’s ever bein’ sailed! That bein’ why I know’s another way to beat the Ogress.”
“And how may’t that be?” Red Whale asked.
“Sailin’ with the Whales,” BorMane replied. “The Whales runnin’ their trade straight across the Stills—that bein’ the long bit o’ the seas where the wind hardly blows. No sailin’ ships can go there—least ways, not ’n be comin’ back. But, be tradin’ with the Whales in a good way, ’n they’ll bein’ willin’ to hook up a ship in their freighter runs across the Stills—forty whales or so runnin’ freight don’t think nothin’ of the Stills. We can run the Stills w’ the freighter whales ’n not givin’ a thought to the Ogress. So fix up Darin’ Cap’t Gumberpott, I can’t bear t’ see ’er ailin’—then we run the Stills with the freighter whales.”
Satisfied with astonished looks on the faces of those around him, BorMane smiled and invited Bem to tell her own story. “Yah, now, Bem—comin’ on ’n tell us what you knowin’ that we don’t.”
Although Bem had known BorMane during her stay at Narrows End Bay, before this she had not heard his whole story. Now, hearing his account left her thoughtful as she realized that although their stories were different, they were also similar.