“What prize?” the greasy-haired Wrackshee called to his comrades.
“Bah! Not a gold coin to be found—only a bit of silver here and there, and that mostly in utensils and cups!” one of the departing Wrackshees responded.
“No millions on board this old wreck,” another Wrackshee added. “A good haul in slaves, but beyond that, not even a skinny bone to be found to gnaw on. Biscuit—and that soggy—that’s all we found to eat!”
“Not to worry—you’ll eat well tonight, and sleep snug on shore!” the greasy-haired Wrackshee called out after the departing catamaran. “And thanks to you all for that! Leavin’ us poor seabeasts here in this wreck all by ourselves—with nothin’ to eat but soggy biscuit!”
“Ah, don’t take it bad,” the Wrackshee on the catamaran called back. “Why that skiff of yours has got plenty of fishhooks! HAR-HAR-HAR! And we left you a bag of dried shark meat and a jug of Bummer Bitters! That’ll tide you over ’till tomorrow. HAR-HAR-HAR!”
In two minutes more, the skiff was alongside the ship. Grabbing a boarding rope left dangling, the Wrackshee with the twisted nose sprang up the side of Daring Dream, followed by his comrade.
“Here, mate, tie up the skiff and come on up,” the greasy-haired Wrackshee called down to Bem.
Making no effort to catch the rope, Bem instead grabbed an oar and pushed off from the ship. As the skiff floated away, she turned the sail to catch the wind. In a few moments the skiff was moving at good speed away from the Daring Dream.
“Treachery! Rogue and rascal! We’ve been tricked!” the Wrackshees roared, flinging curses after the escaping skiff.
“Divide my part of the victuals between ya!” Bem called back. “It’s the least I can do ta return yer hospitality!”
“SLAVE ESCAPING! SLAVE ESCAPING!” the Wrackshees yelled, trying to attract the attention of their comrades in the catamaran.
“Now don’t ya go blamin’ me,” Bem called back. “You’re the ones as went runnin’ off and left the boat to me—and givin’ me your bows and arrows, too! I can’t thank ya enough. Ah, yes, I’m sure the Bozz will be right pleased with two such fine idiots as yourselves!”
At hearing Bem’s last comment, the Wrackshees stopped wailing for help, and the gaze of those on the catamaran was toward the shore, not back to the wrecked ship. Bem, in high spirits at the success of her ruse, set her course away from the ship.
As she watched Daring Dream receed into the distance, she turned her thoughts toward what she could do to help its enslaved crew. She knew she could not directly take on the Wrackshees. Needing a plan, she decided the best thing was to sail down the coast for a distance to safeguard her escape and think. Whatever came her way would be whatever came her way. Let her future be as it would be.
Bem Madsoor In Command
Bigger Black leaned against the rail of the forecastle of the Lost Hope, Sabre Tusk d’Newolf’s flagship, thinking. The lapping of waves and the sound of a shipmate playing an accordian were the only sounds. A sea chart lay unrolled before him.
“Hey, Big Man, what are you looking at?” It was his messmate, Haf-Tusk.
“Haf, keep it down!” Bigger was deeply annoyed.
“So Sabre Tusk is gone?” Haf-Tusk asked.
“Yeah, he’s gone to shore to see what’s up with the group he spotted there. But don’t you get any ideas—I’m not crossing Sabre Tusk on your account.”
“Hey, Big Man, just calm down. I’m not crossing His Tuskiness. Let’s just say there’s possibilities.”
“What possibilities?” Bigger said coldly. “You know I don’t want trouble.”
“So Bem almost got the job done—” Bigger did not let Haf finish.
“Bem! What about her? Can’t we just forget about her? We’re lucky the rest of us didn’t end up in the ocean like she did.”
“Whoa, there, Big Man—you’re right. There’s no point thinking about what might have been if the mutiny had succeeded. But, interesting isn’t it—you have nothing to do with sailing this ship, but here you are studying that sea chart like you’re going somewhere.”
“O.K.,” Bigger answered. “You were almost a hero. But you ended up in irons and just short of His Tuskiness throwing you to the sharks. And, oh, yeah, I almost forgot—you and Bem nearly got the rest of us killed, just for good measure. So, forgive me if I don’t too get excited when you have some new idea. But, no way the crew’s happy, so—sure—I’m thinking. That doesn’t make me crazy enough to follow another hare-brained scheme of yours—but, you got guts and I trust you—what possibilities you got in mind?”