When the Wrackshees had counted the crew taken captive when they boarded the Daring Dream, the total did not match the list of the crew found in the ship’s logbook. Six of the crew were missing: Red Whale, Fishbum, Katteo Jor’Dane, Roolo Tigg, Bomper Spits, and...also, Bem Madsoor.
When the battle with the Ogress ended and Red Whale told the crew to take a rest, most of the seabeasts gratefully followed those orders. Bem, however, rather than drop into her hammock like her comrades, crept quietly to the oar-deck and, pushing open an undamaged oarport, leaned out into the fresh night air. Breathing in great gulps of fresh air, Bem felt as if her head was clearing for the first time in days. Ninety beasts packed into close quarters, condemned to work and live in the same soaked clothing for days on end, sloshing around in evermore stinking water, created a mind-bending stench. Breathing fresh air at last, Bem relished the opportunity to be alone and clear her mind of the recent hardships. Pushing a broken plank out through the oarport, she tied it securely so that she could lie on it, hanging outside the ship in the delightful sea breeze.
Lying on her back on the plank, Bem lounged lazily, enjoying the fresh night air, and gazing at the amazing show of stars above. During the crisis of the storm, she had not had time to wonder where the storm might carry Daring Dream. Now, however, lying under the stars, Bem realized the ship had been driven a long distance by the wind. As pilot on a Rummer Boar ship she’d gained a solid sense of the relation of sea and land. “Capt’n Gumberpott will take a proper reading and fix our location,” she thought, “but it looks like we’re not far from Port Newolf.” With that thought, Bem flipped over on her stomach, let her arms drop on each side of the plank, and slipped off to sleep.
She had slept only a short time when she awoke with a start, alert in all her senses. Sensing danger, she slowly lifted her head enough to look around. In the early morning dawn, she could make out a ring of kayaks and skiffs around the ship. Stealthy figures were tossing grappling hooks over the sides of the ship and rapidly scuttling up ropes to board. Knowing all the raiders and pirates that cruised these waters, she had no doubt what was happening. Only Wrackshee raiders used kayaks—Daring Dream was being boarded by slavers.
ZING! STRACKKK! An arrow shot past her, gently grazing the side of her head, and stuck in the side of Daring Dream. Wrackshee archers, providing cover for the boarding party, had spotted her. Rolling off the plank, Bem dropped into the ocean as additional arrows thudded into the ship around her. Just before hitting the water, Bem took in a deep suck of air and flexed her legs to soften the blow in case she hit the rocks.
SPLASH! Finding that she’d landed where the grounded ship hung clear of the reef, Bem did not surface. Instead, she swam powerfully under the ship to escape targeting by Wrackshee arrows. Clearing the bottom of the ship, Bem continued swimming with all her might, hoping to come up far enough away from the ship to escape notice. Battling against the increasingly urgent need to breathe, Bem continued on, stroke after stroke. At last, lungs bursting, she broke water as quietly as possible, doing all she could to stifle her gasping desire for air.
To her amazed delight, Bem could see that she’d surfaced some few yards behind the ring of Wrackshee boats! The nearest Wrackshee boat was one of the single-sail skiffs. The archers aboard the skiff had their eyes trained on Daring Dream, bows at the ready, watching for trouble. Bem carefully surveyed the situation. Two Wrackshees in the skiff. The main attack force of Wrackshees was now all at the ship, grappling up the sides. Bem retreated a bit further away from the nearby skiff to wait, watch, and make a plan.
Within minutes, the surprise attack had been completely successful, and Daring Dream was under Wrackshee control. As the catamarans moved toward the ship to allow the prisoners to be loaded, the skiffs stayed in position, continuing to provide cover. The Wrackshee’s preoccupation with the loading of the prisoners gave Bem the chance she needed. Once again filling her lungs with air, Bem submerged and swam under water until she was once again in front of the skiff. While still under water, she reversed her direction, then surfaced some yards in front of the skiff.
“How now! Who laughs first?” Bem called out to the surprised archers.
Looking at her with amazement, the archers kept their bows trained on Bem as she swam toward the skiff. As she reached the skiff, Bem could now see that one of the Wrackshees was tall, bald, and had a twisted nose; the other was shorter with long greasy hair.
“I said,” Bem called out again, “How now! Who laughs first?—Are ye deaf or don’t you know the counter-sign?”
Exchanging puzzled glances, the archers lowered their bows, although keeping them at the ready. “No one laughs at the Five Friends!” the Wrackshee with the twisted nose replied.
“Ah, good!” Bem laughed as she grabbed the side of the skiff. “A Rummer friend requests permission to board,” she said.