“Permission granted,” the Wrackshee responded, helping Bem climb into the skiff.
“Where are you from?” the Wrackshee asked. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m a Rummer—captured in a raid and pretending to play along with those scurvy devils to save my skin. I’m sure grateful that the Wrackshee Friends showed up. Those rats would’a bumped me off sooner or later. So, firsts I see the kayaks comin’ I skedaddle over the side and come to join you.”
“Ya sure d’ startle us,” the shorter Wrackshee said. “You poppin’ up and spoutin’ out the Five Friends passwords—I thought you were an apparition—some drowned mate Davy Jones tossed back from his Locker!”
“Nay, I’m naught but meat and bone, like yr’selves!” Bem laughed, happy that her ruse seemed to be working. “I eat n’ drink just like any good seabeast!”
“Oh-Ho!” one of the archers exclaimed. “Now wouldn’t it be a pretty thing to have some good food and drink!”
“Har!” the other agreed. “Why we ain’t had decent victuals since two days ago. And it’ll be another day leasts we see good grub—we’re assigned to guard this here ship ’till the Bozz decides whether to fix her or torch her.”
“And, mark me words—the Bozz and his gutt-for-brains buddies will eat and drink well tonight, while we sits out here damp and shiverin’. That’s a big lot o’ slaves they’ll be bringin’ to to shore today—lots of eatin’ fine and drinkin’ plenty tonight—for them’s as gets to shore that is. Which won’t be us.”
“Oh, don’t be so sure about that,” Bem replied. “You say you’re on guard duty tonight? You and who else?”
“No one else,” the Wrackshee with long greasy hair said. “The Bozz doesn’t expect trouble over a wrecked ship, but he’s not takin’ chances either. We’re just going to keep an eye on things.”
“And what would ya say if I told you I know where the Capt’n’s special grub and drink are stored?” Bem asked slyly.
The Wrackshees’ eyes lit up eagerly. “Special grub and drink?” the bald one repeated.
“Oh, aye,” Bem responded. “Ya don’t think the fine Capt’n eats and drinks like a mere common seabeast, do ya now? And bein’ so, you don’t think he just let’s any beast know where he keeps his good stuff, now do ya?”
Overjoyed that the Wrackshees seemed to be entirely taken in by her trickery, Bem spun out a long yarn explaining how it was she knew the whereabouts of the Capt’n’s fine victuals. Her detailed description of the delights enjoyed at the Capt’n’s table nearly caused the hungry Wrackshees to faint away in ecstasy.
“Nah,” the Wrackshee with the twisted nose suddenly said, his smile fading away. “That boarding party over there will pick that ship clean—that’s their job. There won’t be anything of value left—and they’ll eat everything in sight!”
“The Capt’n’s fine goods won’t be found, you can be sure of that,” Bem finished. “Unless you know exactly where it is, you’ll never find it. Now, I’m mighty tired,” she said, lying down in the bottom of the skiff. “I’m just going to nap a while. When the ship is empty and you’re ready to head over there and board it, just wake me up and I’ll show you the grub—we’ll have a splendid feast tonight! No one else but us invited!”
The Wrackshees contentedly settled back at their posts watching the activities on the Daring Dream while Bem pretended to drop off to sleep. Not trusting her companions, however, she only appeared to sleep, wanting only to lie low and stay out of sight from the ship.
Bem carried on with the pretended nap, tossing and turning and mumbling as if sound asleep, until the Wrackshees cried out, “The red banner! It’s time!”
One of the Wrackshees, nudging Bem with his foot, said, “Wake up, you lazy varmit! The Bozz’s red banner is flying from the ship. That’s our signal to move in.”
Still not wanting to show herself to the rest of the Wrackshee force, Bem yawned and rolled over, saying sleepily, “That’s very pretty—but wake me up when it’s time to board.”
“If you don’t wake then and show us the victuals, we’ll show you no mercy,” the greasy-haired Wrackshee threatened with a chuckle.
“My mercy’ll show nothing but teeth if ya fools mess up our plan,” Bem said sternly, through a half-yawn. “Now don’t go showin’ so much eagerness that ya make yer mates wonder what they might be missing. No—let’s just move in slowly. So we board when we know the rest are gone. Now, please let me finish my nap—you’ve nearly ruined the best rest I’ve had in weeks.”
Waving a small red flag, the Wrackshees in the skiff returned the signal from their comrades departing from the Daring Dream. Then, they raised the sail, put the skiff about, and began slowly moving toward the ship.
The last catamaran was just pulling away from the ship, surrounded by an escort of kayaks, as the skiff came alongside Daring Dream.