Overboard! Page 14

  “Yes. One a day.” offered Neep, the smile leaving his face. “Unless they ask for more.” gulped Neep, the truth coming out of his mouth before his brain had chance to stop his mouth from moving.

  “And do they ask for more?” he asked, pulling Neep a little closer to his face, holding him just a little tighter.

  “Usually.” squeaked Neep, finding his throat more than a little constricted by Mitch’s strong grip. Mitch more or less dropped him to the deck and grabbed the last pirate who was making a hasty exit from the galley.

  “Fetch me Mister Three Fingers!” he more or less yelled and the pirate nodded in agreement before disappearing from the galley at speed. “I give you one job.” snarled Mitch who had now more or less backed Neep up against the table.

  “Two jobs you gave me actually.” said Neep, his honesty kicking in again. It didn’t seem to help much thought Neep, as he watched Mitch grow increasingly redder in the face.

  “Two jobs then,” snarled the cook through his teeth. “I give you two jobs.” He paused to spit loudly onto the floor. “Have you not noticed how suddenly very popular you are?” he said, and Neep nodded glumly. He had thought it was just the way he had of stirring the pot, but now he thought about it he did seem to be the number one candidate for popularity about the crew when he was dispensing ship’s biscuits. “One biscuit a week, lad. No more. You’ve seen how the bastard things struggle. What were you thinking?” almost as if in response to this there was a loud banging sound from the ship’s biscuit tin, which Mitch turned a beady eye on just as the pirate who had left hastily just a moment before pushed an old bearded man into the galley.

  “Three fingers.” he said, indicating the man with him and then he disappeared as fast as he could, leaving Three Fingers standing in the doorway. Neep looked at him closely. He thought he had not seen him before. He was old, with a long grey beard and a strange squint, a tick twitching at his right eye seemingly at random. He was tall and broad, but seemed dazed, as if he was not quite sure where he was.

  He also had his trousers on his head for some strange reason.

  “Beep.” said Three Fingers as Mitch wrapped his arm about his shoulders.

  “Mister Three Fingers here was once one of the finest bombardiers in the Seven Tines, Mister Neep.” said the cook as Three Fingers began to hop on one foot.

  “Bloop bloop.” Said the ex-bombardier as the cook continued. “Until he had one ship’s biscuit too many. Full of protein they say.” he smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “Maybe too much protein.” he said, pushing the old man back out onto the deck. “Or something.” he spat, releasing Neep. “A touch of scurvy never did anyone the slightest bit of harm.” he finished as the sounds of Three Fingers bleeping to himself from the deck carried into the galley.

  Neep considered the problem of scurvy as he cross referenced the index in his SOPE manual to the sub section regarding possible diseases encountered by pirates. Appendix four, sub section three, sections two to four, pages eleven to thirteen. There had been a crease on the edge of the second page, he seemed to recall. What he remembered there seemed to suggest that Mitch was almost certainly more than a little wrong with his ideas on scurvy, but Neep decided not to mention it. He didn’t want to be grabbed by the lapels again, that was certain. Instead he decided to change the subject.

  “Why do they call him Three Fingers?” asked Neep, the edge of the table cutting into his back now. There seemed to be some sort of fight going on in the biscuit tin. Mitch however looked completely confused by Neep’s question.

  “Well he has only got three fingers.” said Mitch, reaching for his heavy apron once again. Apparently the grog cupboard was calling.

  “Right.” said Neep awkwardly. “Three fingers.” Mitch stared at him in silence as he did the buckles up on the back of the apron. “Got it.” finished Neep.

  “Well I hope you have lad. One biscuit a week.” he said, pointing a finger in Neep’s face. “No more.” Neep muttered in agreement and Mitch had disappeared into the grog cupboard again, locking the door behind him. Loudly the biscuit tin continued to clatter, a strange high pitched sound coming from within it. It appeared that it was quite likely that the biscuits were singing.

  Neep put the memory of the biscuits to the back of his mind and continued to stare at the docks as Blurt stood beside him doing the same. By now a queue of wagons and carts were filing into place on the quay as the pirates hastily emptied them, carrying the goods up the gangplank to be safely stowed in the ships hold.

  “What’s in those crates?” asked Neep, pointing to a row of pirates carrying boxes up the gangplank.

  “Supplies for the galley no doubt.” said Blurt, pointing to a cart n a quay filled with barrels. “Fresh water in them I would have thought.” then to further down the line to a wagon with several smaller barrels. “Rum.” said Blurt. “Yo ho ho.” he finished. “See that cart near the back?” he pointed further down the line. Neep followed the direction he was pointing and saw a large cart laden with barrels.

  “The one with the four guards they are unloading now?” Blurt nodded. As Neep watched the barrels were casually tossed from pirate to pirate in a long line, eventually leading up the gangplank and out of view.

  “Gunpowder.” said Blurt. Neep was surprised at how casually the explosives were being tossed from man to man as if they had not a care in the world.

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” he asked Blurt who shook his head.

  “Nah.” he laughed. “Needs a flame to ignite, you see. “No flame, no explosion.” Neep settled into silence once again as the two men watched the ship being loaded. Blurt pointed to a small cart right at the back of the queue. Unlike the other carts nobody stood near it at all, in fact if anything everyone seemed to be avoiding the wagon altogether.

  “See that cart there?” asked Blurt.

  “The one on its own.”

  “That’s the one.” said Blurt.

  “The one with the man sitting at the reins trembling?”

  “That’s it, yes.” Neep had never seen a horse’s knees knocking together before, but this horse’s knees definitely were knocking together without a doubt. The man sitting at the reins also seemed to be shaking violently despite the full suit of armour he appeared to be wearing.

  “Grog components.” said Blurt. “Generally only Mitch loads that stuff. Says he doesn’t want the contents to become agitated or something.” Blurt noticed the look of confusion on Neep’s face. “I know.” he said. “Doesn’t make any sense to me either. I just drink the damned stuff.” Neep watched the horse’s white eyes and knocking knees and decided that grog simply was not for him. Not ever.

  “So why is it called, “Logan’s Rock” then?” asked Neep and he watched Blurt’s expression turn to confusion once again.

  “Well the town was founded by Jeremiah Logan, and Erm…”

  “Let me guess.” said Neep as Blurt drew to a stop. “It was built on a rock.” finished Neep. Blurt nodded as Neep smiled. Maybe he was getting the hang of this after all!

  “Anyway.” said Blurt, moving away from the ships rail, “I can’t stand here all day chatting. Got to go and mend me some sails.” he waved a friendly goodbye and Neep stood alone at the rail once again.

  During the course of the afternoon the ship was gradually replenished, and Neep returned to the galley to feed the pirates who had spent a hard day's toil ensuring that The Torta Di Frutta was ready for sea. The mood was subdued, even the ship’s biscuit tin was relatively quiet, thought Neep and the evenings gruel was dispensed in silence, though that may have been tempered by the fact that the crew slowly began to become aware that Neep was now fully aware of the rationing of the biscuits. One or two crew members tried it on of course, but Neep held firm and eventually word seemed to get around.

  Neep performed his usual duties, which had been decreased to stirring and dispensing, while Mitch fussed about the crew, his mood seemingly improved by the arrival of fresh grog ingredie
nts earlier on. Even now Neep could hear a strange hissing and fizzing sound coming from within the locked grog cupboard, and he noticed that Mitch’s heavy apron had a fresh hole burned right through it.

  Eventually the shifts of pirates in the galley cleared and having tidied away all the mess and cleaned everywhere he was free to retire to bed. As he climbed out into the night air from the steps leading down to the galley he stretched and took in the warm air, yawning loudly to himself. The deck was more or less deserted, the gangplank having been drawn up now the provisions were stowed on board. Jenkins had decided to sail with the tide in the morning, and so the whole ship had now settled down to sleep. Neep did notice several guards about the captain’s quarters and the quarterdeck though, which was quite normal when not at sea and he waved over to them and they waved casually back. Small oil lanterns lay at regular intervals along the ship, illuminating the deck with puddles of rich orange light. To Neep it looked almost magical, and he stared up at the star studded sky above him, and reflected that perhaps life was not quite so bad after all. At least he was on a pirate ship, he considered, and not gutting fish at home. Even though his sole duty seemed to be stirring a pot, there was he thought at least the opportunity for advancement.

  Coming to the conclusion that he was not quite ready for bed yet, Neep decided to take a little more of the night air, and so walked in silence along the deck, heading for the prow of the ship. He was perfectly alone now, though there were still distant sounds of raised voices and commotion from the town drifting on the night air. Captain Jenkins had however to the disgust of most of the pirates forbidden any shore leave, insisting that he would set sail at first light and judging by the sounds coming from the town itself it seemed quite a good decision. So he ambled along to the prow of the ship and then moved across to the rail on the starboard side of the ship, looking out to sea.

  “Psst.” Came a voice out of the dark, and Neep spun around, surprised to find that he was still alone. He glanced over the rail and then looked down into the water below him. He was surprised to see a small rowing boat far below in which several figures seemed to be crouched, one holding a lantern aloft. He was equally amazed to discover that what he had taken as a part of the ship he was leaning on was in fact the end of a small grapnel hook from which a rope dangled down into the rowing boat. Halfway up the rope dangled a small man climbing up. The man looked just as stunned to see him as Neep was to see the man climbing the rope. In the light from the ships lantern Neep could see the boat far below, and several figures in it, though their voices were carried away as if they were whispering.

  It looked an awful long way down, he thought, though he had never had a point of reference before. Still, the man kept on climbing until he was probably ten feet from reaching the rail to the ship. Neep continued to stare down into the man’s face, and was surprised to find he was smiling at him. He was dressed in a dark red top and had long thin hair which blew in the air somewhat as he continued his ascent.

  “What in the name of The Seven Tines are you doing?” said Neep, surprised to find he was whispering now too. The man looked slightly put out for a second, almost as if he was running through a range of optional replies in his head.

  “Have you ever considered port hole insurance?” asked the man as he continued upwards.

  “No.” said Neep. “Should I?”

  “Well.” grunted the man on the rope, “You never know now, do you?” he asked and noticing the look of suspicion on Neep’s face decided to change tack. He was getting much closer now and Neep glanced in unease at the man, casting a quick look over his shoulder at the guards at the bow of the ship arranged around the quarterdeck.

  “I guess not.” said Neep as the man drew level with him. “Shall I ask the guards over here whether they have ever considered it too?” Neep turned as if to shout and the man hissed at him, staying exactly where he was, though Neep did notice him raise his head above the rail a little to check if there actually were guards. Having seen that Neep was not lying, he dipped his head down out of view again.

  “Actually I am having a joke with you.” said the man, trying his best friendly grin on Neep. “We are of course just cleaning the portholes.”

  “Really?” said Neep in a tone that suggested that the man should have stuck to his original story.

  “How about we were painting the hull and we lost track of the hour?” he said, his voice trailing off as if to suggest that he knew that he was wasting his time.

  I think I’ll just get the guards if it’s all the same to you...” said Neep doubtfully, turning to call to the guards to raise the alarm. As he did so however the man in the red shirt swayed on the rope and another person leapt from nowhere and pushing past him reached up and extinguished the nearby lantern, leaving the prow of the ship in moonlit darkness. This new person seemed to be cloaked in black from head to foot, yet as he had reached up to extinguish the lamp Neep could not help but notice that the man’s hand seemed to be completely made of bone. Neep went to call out the alarm but found that strangely he could not speak. All that came from between his lips was a strange high pitched squeak. Neep turned to face the figure as the man in the red shirt landed on the deck, and standing aside another figure leapt from the rope and stood before him. The man in the red shirt pushed Neep back at the rail as the figure in front of him turned to face him.

  Neep was surprised to find that the person in front of him was in fact a woman. Petite she was, all boots and blouse, long black hair running across her shoulders. Neep suspected that she was very attractive, though he was having a great deal of difficulty in removing his eyes from her somewhat impressive bosoms, which were heaving gently with presumably the exertion of climbing up the rope. Eventually he pulled his gaze upwards and saw that indeed she was extremely attractive. She was clad completely in black, with the exception of a dark scarlet waistcoat. Somewhere in the back of his mind this rang a bell, but Neep couldn’t quite place it and so his gaze dropped to her bosoms once again.

  Neep wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, but suddenly there was a sharp prick just below his nose and he went cross eyed, staring down the length of his nose at what appeared to be a reasonably sharp short thin sword, the point of which was resting just above his lip. There was a slight pressure and Neep found he had to raise his eyes up to avoid being pierced by the sword. Now he was staring directly into the bright blue eyes of the woman, who now appeared to be smiling, an edge of superiority creeping into her voice.

  “I think you will find I am up here, Mister...?” she asked, cocking her head.

  “Neep.” swallowed Neep loudly, careful to remain looking at her face. As quick as it had appeared the sword was gone again. Neep would often swear he had not seen her move at all.

  “Neep.” said the woman, smiling at him as if contemplating which limb to remove first. “What a curious name.” She flounced up at the quarterdeck where the guards were carrying on chatting completely oblivious as to what was happening at the darkened prow of the ship. “Well Mister Neep. I am known as The Scarlet Daisy. You may have heard of me.”

  Neep gulped again and thought he felt a slight trickle of blood plop down onto the desk from his nose. He didn’t try to check however. He was too scared to move at all.

  “Scarlet Daisy.” he said, sweat breaking out on his brow as the penny dropped. Daisy nodded, as her grin grew wider.

  “The same Scarlet Daisy who sacked the town of Rangoon and left not a stone standing?” Daisy nodded. “The same Scarlet Daisy who sailed against the fleet of The Count of Bista and sunk six of his ships before drowning the Count himself in a barrel of crabs?” Daisy nodded again, before adding,

  “Lobsters actually.” Neep shrugged at the correction and carried on. “Crabs would have taken too long and I had not had lunch.”

  “The same Scarlet Daisy who double crossed Captain “Blood Thrasher” Wilson and left him buried up to his head in sand on the beaches of Claw Hand Bay with the tide coming in?” Dai
sy nodded again. Neep gulped as the sound of bony fingers being drummed on the ships rail came to his attention.

  “Never heard of her.” said Neep and swallowed loudly again.

  “Good, good.” sighed Daisy, and Neep found an almost overpowering urge to stare at her bosoms again. Yet he resisted. “I am looking for a map, Mister Neep.” sighed Daisy, edging up to him and standing on tip toes whispered in his ear. “A very special map.”

  “Oh the captain has lots of them.” said Neep helpfully. Daisy moved back from him again and stole a quick look at her chest. When he tore his gaze back to her face he saw by her smile she knew. She just knew. “Maybe I should call him and ask.” he said, trying to turn away from her just as the dark robed man pushed him back against the rail.

  “How many guards does Jenkins have?” asked the dark robed figure. His voice seemed to make Neep’s ears tremble. It was deep as if it was the sound of rocks falling against each other. Neep counted the guards in his head.

  “Eight.” he said. “I think he has more inside too, though I’m not absolutely sure.” The man in the red shirt glanced towards the bow of the ship, peering from the darkness into the light. “I count ten.” he said, crouching low in the shadows.

  “Clearly Jenkins has something he wants to protect.” sighed Daisy. “Ten is more than I expected. Manageable though.” The dark robed man beside her seemed to growl almost, but Neep soon realised that it was in fact a chuckle. A bead of sweat fell coldly down his spine.