“Well spoken, Cap’t Gummerpobb! Hear! Hear! I sense we have reached a deal. Your crew will praise you for your wisdom…but, now that you’re paying up, why not let the crew go ashore and enjoy Slizzer? They won’t want to miss the fun!” Stamping his peg loudly on the deck, the old seabird shouted, “Muck n’ Crots! Muck n’ Crots! Muck n’ Crots for the crew!” The noisy Seagull bounded from one end of the deck to the other, long ragged feathers flying and sharp keen eyes darting quickly. Stamping his peg, he called out, “No’se Spill Muck and Steamed Crots for the crew! Come on ashore and drank ’er up, and chuck ’er down, mates. Welcome to Crossports Slizzer! Hurry ashore—it’s the greatest emporium of eatin’ and fightin’ in the world! Just hand over the gold and everyone goes ashore for all the Muck ’n Crots or Screamin’ Slammers they can eat!
Astonished at how the conversation had changed, Red Whale blustered and hollered, “My crew is not goin’ ashore to be worked over with more of your pick-pocket finance! Take the gold and go pay someone to drop a boulder on your head! Now, get off my ship!”
JM Death, however, simply ignored Red Whale as if the Captain’s wrath were a bit of breeze. The Seagull pulled a watch from his pocket, peered at it, and furrowed his brow. “Captain,” he said, “you’ve now been tied up at the dock going on eighty-five minutes—with that additional time, and still none of your crew ashore taking advantage of Slizzer’s delights, and having declined Fancy Grace’s offer of a line of credit, I’m afraid that you owe me another thousand pounds of gold.”
Looking at his watch again, then motioning toward the pirates cruising on their sharks just a stone’s throw away, Death said, “There, Captain—you see that Fancy Grace awaits your decision. Is it going to be Muck and Crots for the crew, or Fancy Grace taking your ship and selling you all for slaves? With you tied up for almost ninety minutes and still not producing business for Slizzer, I fear that Fancy Grace requires an answer. You’ll notice the diamonds dazzling on Fancy Grace’s coat, as numerous as the stars in the sky,” Death continued. “Each one represents a ship taken for plunder—she just loves to keep track.”
Gazing at the whooping, ferocious marauders circling in the harbor, Red Whale could hear Fancy Grace howling above the din like a hungry wolf. Having no arms with which to give resistance, he faced the reality of surrendering his ship and crew. He face grew deathly grim and his frame trembled. It was not the terror of a coward, however, that moved him. It was the energy of a tireless captain considering and discarding plan after plan to save his ship.
Red Whale was about to concede defeat when BorMane suddenly stepped forward.
“So what’s a piece of t’ Maggon Dragon worth t’ ya?” he asked.
“The Maggon Dragon?” Death said, his eyes blazing with excitement.
“Aye, you heard me right,” BorMane replied.
“But the only one’s that’s seen the Maggon Dragon is those as died in its jaws and myself!” Death exclaimed.
“An add t’ that m’self!” BorMane said with a smile. “And proof of it’s right ’ere.” Pulling out the piece of dragon’s tail he wore on a chord around his neck, BorMane dangled it as he continued. “Now’s long ’bout’s three years past, I was sailin’ with Sabre Tusk d’Newolf—and we’s land’d on Maggon’s Island, not especially knowin’ where we were. Why, we’s takin’ on water n’ pickin’ fruit n’ then the Dragon comes on us fierce! Slashed up a few of our crew, till by the Anc’t Ones—I drove a harpoon up his gut—purest blessin’ or luck, call it as ya may.”
Red Whale gave BorMane a questioning glance.
BorMane ignored him and, walking up to Death, dangled the piece of dragon tail before him. “So, who’s tail do ya think this might’s be?”
“The Maggon Dragon,” Death replied slowly, his eyes wide as saucers.
“Thought ya might’a heard of the Maggon Dragon,” BorMane chuckled, “why that’s what happened ta your leg, ain’t it?”
“The first ship I sailed years ago…” Death began, staring at the piece of dried dragon tail, “…there was a mutiny, and the captain and those of us loyal to him were marooned on Maggon Island. The Dragon got everyone but me and the captain—well, except for my leg. The Dragon got that, curse him! The captain saved my life. We lived in a cave for nearly six months, keeping a fire going all the time to keep the Dragon away. We’d never go anywhere without torches—fire was the only thing the Dragon feared. We built a raft—always keeping a ring of fire burning around our worksite. Sometimes, the Dragon would just come right down and lay on the beach, watching us. Believe me, we never let that fire die down!”
Reaching out and touching the piece of dragon tail, Death continued. “When the raft was finished, we sailed away. We were picked up by a pirate ship and joined the crew—and that was my first escape from death, in this case the literal jaws of death.”
“So’s it may give ya some revenge ta wear a piece of that ol’ monster, eh?” BorMane said.
“Yash! I’d give anything to wear proof that the Maggon Dragon got its just desserts.”
“You let Cap’t Gumberpott and me go ta the Whale freighter station, and I’ll give you this piece of the Maggon Dragon’s tail,” BorMane said.