Helga: Out of Hedgelands, Rick Johnson [suggested reading txt] 📗

them in the crowded, tight spaces of the alley.

Deciding that they should ask for directions to the Whale freighter station, they waited to speak to a towering Barge Goat who appeared to be of some importance. At least he was bellowing at a group of burly Roustabout Hares struggling with an overturned cart of fish. “Blast yar’t laz’n stumps! Fly! Fly! Lift yar’t stumps!” the Barge Goat roared.

The weary Hares, despite the evening chill, were shirtless in the heavy damp; even their coarse leggings sweat-soaked from the heavy lifting. Panting, their breath heaving from exertion, they weren’t in a mood to be hurried. “Shush yar’t gob, M’ster Billows! Narn a single one o’ us that eats at yar’t table. We’ll be loadin’ yar’t wagon right along. Just be shush’in yar’t gob!”

The rough-looking roustabouts, some with colored bandanas tied across their heads, others with snug cotton caps, one with a bowie knife stuck in his belt, another with a large piece of his ear missing, gave the Barge Goat surly looks as they returned to their work. Showing their contempt, the Hares thumped on barrels as they rolled them, giving beat to a swamp shanty wailed in the most tortured Barge Goat brogue:

’N Mis’tr B kissed his’elf in the mirror,
     ’n ’is crew b’gan to cheer.
     Oh, oh, up he puckers, hav’in no fear.
     ’N he kissed his’self on the nose,
     ’n thanks from the ladies arose,
     Oh, oh, no more, no more shall they fear.
     No more, no more, no more shall they fear.
     Mis’tr B has found ’is lovin’ own dear.

Oh, oh, he’s found ’is lovin’ own dear.

The Hares howled with glee. “We’ll be done in a lickety-cut, yar’t own lovin’ beauty! Har, har, har!” they laughed. Grumbling darkly, Mister Billows struck a match and puffed angrily on his long clay pipe, glaring at the Hares. “Blasted rob’nabb’it cargo weevils!” he fumed, muttering amidst the Hares’ raucous laughter.

As the Barge Goat turned away from the Hares to return to other business, Red Whale stepped forward. “Excusing myself, sir, but where’d I find the Whale freighting station?”

“Gone, gone this week last—at least if’n you want shippin’!” the Barge Goat replied.

“Gone!” Red Whale exclaimed.

“Aye! And what ’bout that’s you don’t und’stand?” the Barge Goat said.

“But I’m desperate for their help,” Red Whale cried. “How can they be gone?”

“They run’s a four-month freightin’ route,” the Barge Goat responded. “Two month’s out stoppin’ at ports, then two month’s back stoppin’ at different ones.”

“Four months!” Red Whale moaned. “We can’t wait four months!”

“Which way’s you shippin’?”

“We’re bound for the Outer Rings and wanted to avoid the Ogress. So, we were lookin’ to the Whales to carry us across the Stills.”

“Four months,” the Barge Goat repeated. “No chance a’fore that. Only shippin’ runs are in directions where there’s breeze’in for sailin’ ships.”

Red Whale was furious. Surely Death had known the Whale freighters had departed! He had allowed Red Whale and BorMane to go on what he knew would be a disappointing trip. “Crinoo! Zarr!” Red Whale scowled as he and BorMane retraced their steps. “Oh, and he’s a clever one!”

Returning to Daring Dream at a rapid pace, Red Whale found Death lounging contentedly on the sacks of gold coins piled on the dock. A goodly number of Fancy Grace’s crew surrounded him, quietly peeling and eating shrimp. The ferocious pirates seemed to take no notice of Red Whale and BorMane. Being stripped naked to the waist, however, showcased the gruesome scars criss-crossing their bodies, sending a message impossible to ignore. Hatchets, knives, and cutlasses hung from wide belts at their waist. The purpose of the display of force was obvious to Red Whale.

“So, it appears our deal is off,” Red Whale commented.

“Heavens, no,” Death replied with a gruff laugh. “The bargain’s sure and true’s it ever was.”

“Then command those rascals to leave and allow me to reload my half of the gold. We will gladly depart as soon as it’s loaded.”

“Then you are the one breaking our bargain,” Death replied.

“Me?” Red Whale roared. “Me break the bargain? Nay! I have honored my part of the deal.”

“Then all the gold, and the piece of Maggon Dragon’s tail, are mine,” Death said with a smile. “The bargain was that I would return half the gold to you if you were successful in making a deal with the Whale freighters—but, you were not successful.”

“Crinoo! You bilge-bathing, vomitous scoundrel!” Red Whale exploded. “You may be clever, but your trickery only proves that all the blood in your head is fly-swarming dung!”

“I think what it proves is that I win, you lose,” Death replied. “Now be happy that I show you mercy and let you keep your ship and crew. That’s a gift from your friends. We do hope you’ll call at our friendly harbor again someday.”

Red Whale and BorMane exchanged glances. No words were needed. In countless Ship’s Councils during Daring Dream’s voyage, their goal had been reaffirmed time and again. They would find the Outer Rings and return to Lord Farseeker with a full report in the shortest possible time. It was out of the question to wait four months at Slizzer—even if they wanted to!

“Mr. Fishbum,” Red Whale called to his mate waiting at the top of the gangway, “make Daring Dream ready to depart. We leave with the ebb tide.”

“Aye, Capt’n, she’ll be ready.” Fishbum responded.

“Look lively, mates!” Fishbum called out. “See to the rigging and stores!”

In high spirits, the crew gave three cheers to Captain Gumberpott and Daring Dream, and fell to their tasks.

“Where’r you bound?” Death inquired, just as Red Whale turned to board the ship.

“Back the way we came to catch what’s left of the Fair Temps,” Red Whale replied.

“The Fair Temps will be all blowed out for the season,” Death said. “You’ll be sailin’ straight into the path of the Ogress—and speaking as your special, personal friend, only a fool would sail those waters during Ogress season.”

“I prefer the danger I know, to the dangers I don’t,” Red Whale answered. “I’ve weathered many a storm, and prefer the company of a hurricane to friends such as you.”

Returning to the ship, Red Whale directed the preparations to depart. Some hours later, Daring Dream rode the falling tide out of the Crossports Slizzer harbor and set its prow northward to catch the Fair Temps. Riding a fresh breeze across easy seas, the spirits of the crew were high. Fifteen days after leaving Slizzer, the weather began to thicken and the skies turned gray and gloomy. Scudding along at full-sail, Red Whale searched the sky with his practiced weather-eye, suspecting that Daring Dream was heading into a heavy storm.

By the following day it was raining steadily and the seas became ugly. During the night, the rising screech of a gale-force wind combined with the pounding waves to drown out every other sound. The endless torrential rain, mixing with the flying spray from waves breaking across the ship, gave the effect of having no sky whatever above—as if Daring Dream had entered some twilight zone between drowning and drowned.

At the first sign of dangerous weather, Red Whale had ordered every stitch of sail to be taken in, furled and tightly lashed. It made no difference. The crew below decks, waist deep in water, working the pumps, heard nothing of the howling wind shredding the sails like tissue paper and carrying the masts away as if they were twigs.

Daring Dream, as sturdy a ship as was ever built, labored valiantly against the tremendous waves, taking on considerable water, but refusing to admit defeat. For two days and nights the crew bravely and feverishly worked the pumps. Lashed to the pumps to keep them from being tossed away from their posts by the pitching deck, the struggling crew managed to keep the water from rising beyond the bottom deck.

As the storm at last began to diminish, vivid flashes of lightning from the departing rain clouds revealed the fearful reality of the nearly-shattered ship. The heroic efforts of the weary crew had saved her, however, and with only 3 feet, 8 inches of water left in the hold, Red Whale ordered the pumping stopped and all hands to their bunks for an urgently needed rest.

Unable to sleep himself, Red Whale climbed over the wreckage to reach the main deck. Unseen in the darkness, he stepped into a gaping hole that had been opened in the deck. Stumbling forward, his arm slammed into the jagged remains of the mainmast. Stabbing pain momentarily took away his breath. Struggling to his feet and holding his injured arm tightly, Red Whale’s pain-narrowed eyes widened with the happy sight of Fishbum coming toward him.

“Looks desperate, Capt’n, and you look to be the worst of it yourself, sir,” Fishbum said as he reached Red Whale. “Come on with me, sir, you need some rest—let’s take a look at that arm n’ get some sleep.”

“My Mam always told me to work my head more than my seat,” Red Whale replied. “I can’t rest. We are in more danger now than during the storm—our water supply is ruined for sure and our food may be lost as well. We can’t sail or even use the oars because the stores and crates shifted in the storm and the oar-ports are blocked.  No, the crew needs a few hours rest, but I must think how to save the ship.”

 

So There Are Beasts In This Waste!

Red Whale’s considerable bulk, hitting the sea during his escape from the Daring Dream, created a loud SPLOOSH that had not gone unnoticed. Roolo Tigg was a light sleeper in normal times, but the dramatic storm of recent days had left his mind racing, making it nearly impossible to sleep despite his physical exhaustion.

SPLOOSH! “What was that?” Roolo thought to himself, instantly alert. Leaping from his hammock, he made his way quickly among the tightly-packed hammocks of the sleeping crew. Gaining the deck, and looking over every side of the ship, he found no apparent case of “sea-beast overboard.” He was just turning away from the side to return to his hammock, when he noticed that the night watch was not at its duty—Red Whale and Fishbum were gone!

The realization that the Captain and his mate had apparently abandoned their watch made Roolo instantly suspicious. “They must have gone overboard for some reason,” Roolo realized. But what could have caused the rock-solid, trustworthy Captain to abandon his post? Surely, something was desperately wrong!

“What’s up, Mr. Tigg?” Bomper Spits asked. Bomper had wakened when Roolo had collided with his swinging hammock during his movements through the dimly-lit interior of the ship. Hearing Roolo’s steps up toward the deck, the curious Bomper followed.

“Somethin’s gone to worsts,” Roolo replied. “Capt’n and Fishbum are gone—over the side it appears. What’s that about?”

“That would be the problem over there,” Bomper cried, pointing to the swarm of kayaks rapidly approaching the ship, splitting into streams with the obvious intent of encirclement.

“Capt’n saw it comin,” Roolo agreed. “Too many to resist, and they’re on us with complete surprise—we’re taken without a shot, that’s for sure.”

“Yah,” Bomper agreed, “Capt’n and Fishbum went for help, I’d wager. But what can we do—all our mates is asleep—no time to rouse and defend.”

“Follow the Capt’n, as always,” Roolo replied tersely, “over the side, and quick about it.”

So saying, Roolo and Bomper ducked low to avoid notice and scrambled to the far side of the ship, farthest away from the waves of attackers. Grabbing a dangling rope line to the keelboat that bobbed on the waves