Helga: Out of Hedgelands by Rick Johnson (ebook reader color screen .txt) 📖

“Cut out the fancy talk—the last fancy talker I met didn’t have the sense of a crab,” Death snapped. “Look, I ain’t holdin’ a reception here,” he continued, surveying Red Whale, ship, and crew with eager and greedy eyes. The long red scar across his face seemed to swell with blood as his excitement grew.

A mass of grayish-white feathers fell in a disheveled mass across the collar of the Gull’s seacoat. The wild feathers vibrated as Death’s head shook with excited glee. “Only two kinds of ships tie up here—those as take liberties with other ships and those dull ships o’ sea-beasts, such as yourselves, just wantin’ to come ashore and feast on Slizzer’s delights.”

The old seabird drew a long slim knife from its sheath at his belt and ran the sharp point across his own neck, causing a slight flow of blood to flow. “Now you see, Capt’n,” the Gull continued, “Slizzer is a lawful and orderly town. The law here is simple—we’re organized to the discipline of plunder and booty. Our fundamental rule—which I, as mayor, am sworn to uphold with this knife—is that every ship as stops at Crossports Slizzer contributes to the common purse. No pay, no stay—it’s as simple as that.”

The Gull, with a look full of meaning, again ran the sharp knife gently across his neck, leaving another faint line of blood. “Most of the fine ships you see here are owned by Slizzer’s best citizens—Fancy Grace; Black Fats, the Mad; and Captain Bull. These fine, civic-minded citizens do as they will with the ships they find at sea—and pay ten shares of their booty into the common fund. For those as trade in the dull commerce of normal business, or are just passin’ through Sizzer, it’s two thousand pounds of gold—payable now, if you please.” The Seagull looked at Red Whale expectantly.

“What do you mean, two thousand pounds of gold, payable now?” Red Whale demanded. “I don’t owe you a thing, you old swindler! Now get off of all this nonsense—you’re not dealing with a fool.”

“Weell,” the Seagull replied slyly, “you don’t seem to have shown any extry smarts in landing here, thinkin’ use of the docks was free! You tie up and—weell, then—you pay for the privilege of dockin’ here. If you don’t have gold, I’d take three thousand pounds of pearls instead.”

“But we’re here to do business!” Red Whale exploded. “All we want is to contract with the Whale freighters to carry us across the Stills.”

“That’s fine for you and the whales, but not for the shopkeepers and cafés—nor for the mayor. That’s why I, as mayor, am charged to maintain proper respect for law and order! Now, Cap’t Gummerpobb, I think you’re best advised to pay up—then step right this way and bring your crew with you. You’ll see that Slizzer is an absolute emporium of…”

“Bah! You greedy-grub! Why, I’ll not pay you a chip ‘o sand nor tossin’ anything in your grubby little wing until I’m ready.”

“Oh, my,” Death replied, “if you don’t have enough money, don’t worry—we specialize in loans! You can borrow against your ship and crew if you prefer—our bankers are just over there.” Pointing to a hulking, wildly-painted ship anchored a couple of hundred yards away, Death continued, “It won’t take but a moment to get them here.”

“Your ship’s not much to look at, Cap’t Gummerpobb, but takin’ the crew into the equation—looks like I could sell ’em right easy—why, I think that would be plenty to secure a fine loan for you. You’ll have plenty to give you a good time ashore!”

“my name’s not, Gummerpobb!” Red Whale roared, “The name is Captain norayn gumberpott—And i’ll have none o’ your stinking-bilge-sucking loans!”

“Suit yourself, Cap’t Gummerpobb,” Death replied, “but unfortunately, you’ve already been docked here nearly an hour and that tab must be paid.” Pulling a red cloth from the inside pocket of his seacoat, Death waved it high over his head, toward the strange-looking schooner anchored near the harbor entrance.

A few moments later, loud cursing and hooting laughter erupted on the schooner. Red Whale lifted his glass and, squinting, swept it across the mysterious ship. He could see the decks were crowded with rough beasts, weather-beaten, ugly, and fierce, armed with every manner of weapon imaginable. Although the ship offered no immediate threat, it was clear that the Seagull’s “bankers” were an unpleasant lot. The nature of the possible unpleasantness, however, remained a mystery as Red Whale watched the raucous activity on the ship. Amazingly, the schooner seemed to be sinking in the water at the stern!

The look of surprised curiosity on Red Whales face was not lost on Death. “Yash, Cap’t Gummerpobb! I see you’ve never seen a shark-deck ship before!”

With a sneering laugh, Death explained what was happening. “That would be Fancy Grace coming to offer you a loan! You see, Fancy Grace opens a valve and lets some water into tanks in the stern o’ her ship. The weight tilts the ship backward and the stern slides lower in the water.”

Death paused and gave a hard eye to the Daring Dream crew gathered round. “HAR-HAR-HAR!” he laughed, “Then the real fun begins! Put your glass on the stern o’ the ship, Captain Norayn Gumberpott, and see what happens now!”

Red Whale peered through his glass with an increasing sense of that things were about to become very unpleasant, indeed. Red Whale’s pulse quickened as feelings of fear and astonishment see-sawed within him. Nearly transfixed by what was happening, Red Whale watched a large gate swing open on the schooner’s stern, allowing seawater to flood into the ship.

“Don’t worry, Captain Norayn Gumberpott,” Death said with an evil smile, “Fancy Grace’s ship won’t sink—water only pours into the shark-deck. Now, I imagine you wonder what a ship needs a shark-deck for—well, just keep watching…”

In a few more moments, hideous sea-beasts, each armed to the teeth, came swarming out through the open gate, riding huge sharks! Red Whale stifled a gasp—judging each shark to weigh at least a thousand pounds, sea-beasts riding astride, holding the tall vertical fins! The powerful sharks carried their riders rapidly across the harbor toward Daring Dream, with only their top fin and half-submerged riders visible.

A female Wolverine led the approaching horde. Red Whale studied her carefully through his glass. Small in stature but not in ferocity, the pirate leader cut slashing circles above her head with a cutlass, kicking her shark for maximum speed. Swearing at the top of her lungs like a Banshee from hell, the rascal’s wild orange eyes flashed like fire. Large earrings dangled beneath a broad jet-black hat. Dressed in bright, gaudy clothes made of the finest cloth, the little pirate leader had wealth, but not good style, Red Whale decided. Several front teeth were prominently missing, but numerous diamonds sewn into her seacoat flashed in the sun, off-setting that defect. A long, lavishly woven scarf fluttered around her neck. The overall effect was elegant mayhem. Guessing that over a hundred pirates were closing in on Daring Dream, Red Whale did not need convincing that they could easily take his ship as “payment” for any supposed debts he might have.

Death, smiling broadly, said, “I have the honor of introducing you to the meanest, and most colorful, of my business associates—Fancy Grace. Now, shall I invite them to come on aboard and take control of your ship, or would you prefer to pay the two thousand pounds of gold, and go ashore and have some fun?”

“I don’t owe you a cup of spit, you dung-brained robber!” Red Whale replied. “The only gold we have we need to pay passage with the Whale freighters, but if you will call off your business associates, I will give it to you.” Looking Death straight in the eye, Red Whale added, “Then if you’ll just let us cast off, we’ll go our way in a few minutes and be out of your way forever.”

“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