“Yah! It’s a bad current running, I tell you! What else could it be? Maybe this bunch of seabeasts are just heavier than they look!”
Red Whale could hardly keep from laughing out loud. “Sure, and that’s the problem,” he smiled, “this bunch of seabeasts is, indeed, a whole lot heavier than it looks!”
Red Whale’s good humor did not last long, however. When the Butter-Slagger was about a mile off-shore, it began to cross the long rocky reef that protected the harbor. Sea-going ships had to enter the harbor by rounding the reef far down the coast, then sailing up the deeper channel behind the reef. Butter-Slaggers, however, were designed to cross the reef. Riding high in the water, and built to take pounding that would tear any ordinary boat to pieces, they skimmed over the treacherous rocks.
For the comrades hanging beneath the slagger, it was the end of the voyage. The reef left no room for them to continue their stealthy ride. At the first insistent touch of the jagged rocks, Red Whale, Fishbum, and Katteo parted ways with the Butter-Slagger. In the spreading light of the dawn, the three comrades watched in dismay as the slagger danced across the rough current boiling across the reef. An impassable barrier now stood between them and their captive shipmates rapidly disappearing into slavery!
With the natural instinct for self-preservation, and the stalwart seabeasts’ slight capacity for swimming, the three friends struck out along the reef, looking for any possible break in the barrier. The dangerous current, continually threatening to crush them against the deadly rocks, soon exhausted their remaining energy, however.
Gasping for air and losing strength rapidly, the three comrades at last pulled themselves up on a single rock, sticking up out of the waves foaming and lashing around it. Slippery and not at all level, the rock provided a precarious, but welcome, temporary haven from the thrashing sea. Relieved, the exhausted beasts collapsed and closed their eyes for a brief respite.
Katteo noticed it first. Her exhausted, labored breathing had barely returned to normal when an overwhelming odor of fish assaulted her nostrils. The unbelievably fishy smell was accompanied by a loud strange bellowing and honking—as if someone were yelling through their nose.
“What on earth?” Katteo stammered as she sat up and looked around.
“Sea lions,” Red Whale replied, sitting up. “But where are they? I’ve seen them before and the smell and sound always hit you first—but they can’t be far off.”
“OHO, THERE! SCHNORT-SCHUZUCK! MOVE OVER AND MAKE WAY!” With that announcement and a flop, flop, flop, a huge Sealion pulled himself up on the rock beside the seabeasts.
“AL-OHO, THERE!” the Sealion bellowed. “SCHNORT-SCHUZUCK-SNORT-SNORT—AH, THAT’S BETTER—HAD A BIT OF CRAB SHELL STUCK IN MY THROAT THERE FOR A MOMENT! EXCUSE ME WHILE I CATCH MY BREATH!”
The Sealion had slid up the extremely slippery rock with the greatest of ease. With astonishing speed, its long cylindrical body seemed to glide up the rock, defying gravity. Flopping to a stop in front of the three comrades, its body shortened into a squat, immense mountain of flesh—nearly the size of all three seabeasts put together. The almost bear-ish head and neck, would suddenly thrust out, turtle-fashion, with oversized eyes peering closely when the beast talked in his bellowing, snorting manner.
“HUURRUMPFF! GRRUMPT! PARDON ME IF I’M INTERRUPTING! SCHNORCKT! I’VE BEEN FISHING AND, AS I SAID—SCHUZUCKT—GOT SOME CRAB SHELL STUCK—MY FAVORITE MEAL, OF COURSE—THAT CRACKLY, CRUNCHY, SALTY OUTSIDE, AND SQUISHY, WARM GUTS INSIDE—YUMM—ANYWAY, WON’T BE HERE LONG AND DON’T MEAN TO BARGE IN ON ANYTHING! SNORCHNORT!”
Red Whale, Fishbum, and Katteo exchanged bemused looks. “There now, friend, don’t you be worrying on our account,” Fishbum said. “Why you’ve got as much right and need to be on this rock as we do. But, what’s your name? We’d be honored to know your name.”
“REGINALD M.Q., AND THE HONOR OF KNOWING YOU IS MINE, I ASSURE YOU,” the Sealion replied. “AND WHAT PROUD NAMES DO YOU HOLD FOR YOURSELVES? SNORCHNORT! SNORCHNORT! SPPITT—SORRY THERE, OLD SPOT, FINALLY GOT THAT BLASTED CRAB SHELL DISLODGED AND—YOU KNOW—JUST HAD TO CLEAR MY THROAT, YOU UNDERSTAND—NOT MEANING TO SPPITT ON YOU. SNORCHNORT! SPPITT!—OH SORRY, THERE, OLD SPOT, THAT ONE GOT AWAY FROM ME. NO HARM DONE, THOUGH—JUST FLICK IT OFF ANYWHERE. NOW, I SAY AGAIN, WHAT PROUD NAMES DO YOU HOLD FOR YOURSELVES?”
The three seabeasts introduced themselves and fell into animated conversation with Reginald. When the Sealion learned of their current predicament, he was outraged. “WRACKSHEES IS IT? SCHNISST! POOPER-SCHOONCT! WHY THE POWERS OF CREATION DO NOT FEED THEM TO THE SHARKS, I CANNOT FATHOM! SHNORRT! WHY, I’LL HELP YOU RECOVER YOUR MATES! JUST YOU ALL CLIMB ABOARD AND I’LL HAVE YOU ACROSS THIS LITTLE REEF IN NO TIME!”