Overboard! Page 16

  “Well I am a hostage aren’t I?” declared Neep and Daisy nodded. She had looked at him closely as Neep’s eyes slightly lost focus. “A person seized or held as security for the fulfilment of a condition. Synonyms: captive, prisoner, pawn, security, surety, pledge.”

  “Believe you me I know what a hostage is, Mister.” She laughed, “Though being a hostage doesn’t mean you have to live in a flag cupboard.” She had said, looking at him curiously as his eyes shifted back into focus. “What is your first name anyway? I can’t call you Mister Neep all the time.”

  “Neep.” he had said. “My first name and last name are the same.

  “Neep Neep?” she had said, and Neep watched her face closely with an air of embarrassment as the unusual sound of something rushing past came and went. He was amazed, for she did not even flinch.

  “Well Neep. You have the run of the ship during our journey to Nine Wells. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find Captain Jenkins hot on our tail if he values you so much. His ship is faster than ours you see, despite its size.

  “Probably the amount of sails The Torta Di Frutta has.” Neep had said, looking up at the much smaller masts and sails of The Magpie.

  “Oh I see you are getting the hang of this pirate consultant thing.” She had smiled, moving away from him towards the quarterdeck. “I will get the crew to gather some clothes for you. I am sure we can find something that will fit.” She looked up over from head to foot. “Probably.” she had concluded and promptly left.

  So life as a hostage wasn’t too bad at all really, though your shoes did tend to pinch a fair bit. To the crew the journey to Nine Wells was just a usual one, but to Neep it was like a wish come true. He had heard Daisy estimate that their course would take about ten days to get there, and so far the voyage had proved to be particularly uneventful. On the fourth day the long promised storm broke and the ship was tossed about the sea like a cork in water, lightning and howling gales rattling about the ship as they battled to stay afloat. Neep was watched like a hawk at this time, and he suspected that perhaps money had changed hands again, for every time he went to the rail of the ship he would suddenly find himself not alone any more, and he was not convinced it was for his own safety at all.

  “Terrible storm!” Shouted a large bald headed pirate to him as they leaned on the rail when the storm was at its height.

  “Yes.” said Neep as the man continued to stare at him. “Quite exciting, isn’t it?”

  “Exciting?” Mumbled the pirate in confusion.

  “Yes. All of the rain and wind and what have you.”

  “And the fact that at any moment the helmsman (who incidentally is currently strapped to the ships wheel so he doesn’t lose his footing) may misjudge one of those castle wall size waves and send us crashing into the water in a seafloor bound jumble of smashed wood and canvas where we would absolutely certainly drown?”

  “Oo yes.” shouted Neep before the wind could snatch his words away. “You make it sound even more exciting!”

  “Do I?” said the pirate despondently as the ship’s deck rose almost vertically and them came crashing back down again, the two of them holding onto the ropes strung along the rails for just such an event.

  “You do.” smiled Neep and wearily the pirate crept away, a vague dizzy look upon his face. As the son of a fish monger Neep had spent many a day wondering what it was like out on a stormy sea, and now he knew. The fact that he found it very exciting and that it did not affect his stomach at all meant the ship was very busy betting wise, with a lot of money changing hands all of the time.

  Eventually the storm had blown out by the middle of the next day, which was the sixth day of their journey. Neep took a great deal of time observing the captain for she seemed to be the complete opposite of Captain Jenkins, especially in the chest area. This was not the reason for his shadowing of her however. He was greatly fascinated by the way she ran the ship, which despite her having a great air of authority also allowed the crew to pitch in with ideas as and when required. Neep thought it was a much better system, and spent most of the day following her and the seemingly ever present black caped figure of Mister Bones about the ship as they went about their duties.

  Daisy noticed of course and indulged him most of the time though there were several admonishments aimed at keeping him from “getting under her feet” as she called it. He made himself scarce on those occasions of course, offering his pot stirring abilities in the kitchen or damping down the ships biscuits, but more often than not his assistance was neither expected nor required. He was quite a pirate of leisure in fact. The one place he did know he would find Daisy however was at sunset when she would stand at the bow of the ship looking out over the sea, usually alone. It was almost as if the crew respected her desire to be alone at that time, for even Mister Bones rarely sought her out there too.

  Neep of course gave her no such peace, making elaborate excuses for “accidentally” bumping into her on a nightly basis. She never appeared irritated though, though she was not terribly talkative either, he thought.

  “Am I interrupting you?” He had asked her on the seventh night after they had stood in a sullen silence for several minutes.

  “If I said yes would you go?” She asked him without turning. Overhead Neep saw the stars begin to appear as night fell around them.

  “Of course.” said Neep indignantly.

  “It is like kicking a puppy.” mumbled Daisy from beside him. Neep spotted an edge of amusement in her voice and so remained where he was. Also, technically speaking, she had not actually asked him to leave. Neep had a great amount of difficulty in reconciling her fearsome reputation with the short woman who now stood staring out to sea before him. Everyone knew her reputation of course; the merchant runs on the old coast had seen to that, added to her role in the siege of Munston several years before. Such tales Neep would pore over with every relating of them he could get to hear. The exploits of The Scarlet Daisy were many and frequently somewhat violent. Quite bloody in fact.

  “So what’s it like to kill someone then?” asked Neep and from the corner of his eye he saw her freeze.

  “What?” she said and Neep was about to expound upon his question when he suddenly noticed a long thin piece of steel jabbing just under his chin. He had not seen her move of course, never mind draw her sword. Yet there it undoubtedly was, just nestled under his chin. Neep decided a complete lack of movement on his behalf was a very good idea indeed.

  “Flurp.” he said, careful not to move as he said it. He just about managed to note that Daisy’s eyes were blazing. Her face however was completely impassive.

  “Well now. Let’s see shall we.” said Daisy and Neep made a similar noise once again. “We have here a three-foot-long spike of razor sharp steel which if I exert just a little bit more pressure here...”

  Neep felt that the night was getting suddenly very warm and equally very, very dangerous.

  “Will cut through you with hardly any resistance at all. One little shove and you are just a big bag of blood guts and water littering up the deck of my ship.” There was a flash of metal and Neep breathed deeply as he realised the sword was gone just as quick as it had appeared. He checked his chin and was surprised to find that it wasn’t actually cut at all.

  “Cutting a man up close needs an air of detachment that it doesn’t pay terribly well to fool around with.” she smiled and Neep saw that she was facing him now, her eyes watching him like a hawk.

  “I suppose so.” he said, and almost kicked himself as he heard his voice seemed to have risen several octaves yet again. “Much better a cannon or a gun.”

  “You really believe that, don’t you?” she asked as if he was some strange exhibit in her own unusual and personal zoo. Neep nodded. “It doesn’t matter which way you do it.” she smiled. “It never gets any easier.”

  “Ah.” said Neep. “The dilemma of kill or be killed.” Daisy cocked an eyebrow at him when he said this, but allowed him to continue. “I
n my correspondence course it is down to that choice really.” He paused, considering whether to mention that his course only provided the use of a plastic sword, but plunged on any way. “Seems pretty black and white to me.”

  “Only if you stop to consider it.” she smiled. “My way of dealing with it is to ignore it. It is not important to me because whoever I have to remove from my way is quite simply in my way in the first place. That is a very dangerous place to be, Mister Neep. Do you see?”

  Neep didn’t. Not really. Yet it was obvious to him that perhaps the “do or die” approach may be just a little bit more complicated than that, and that maybe, just maybe, his correspondence course was not quite as definitive as it made itself out to be. Daisy had obviously noticed his confusion, her eyes still upon him.

  “Do you know why I wear my blouse so low, Mister Neep?” she smiled, noticing as Neep turned from a white so pale it made the moon jealous to the approximate colouring of a highly embarrassed beetroot.

  “No.” he gulped as her smile increased. In truth a hundred answers had come into his head, but one hundred and one of them would almost certainly find him getting his throat cut, and so he feigned ignorance. “Can’t say I have noticed really.” he eventually managed and Daisy snorted loudly.

  “It is quite simple Mister Neep. I find that when a man attacks me he usually finds my breasts to be of much more merit than the sword I am holding in my hand.” She smiled sweetly at him. “Quite often you will find my breasts are the last thing they ever see.”

  “And women?” asked Neep, desperately searching for any question that moved away from the discussion of Daisy’s breasts.

  “Ah you will find that there are actually very few pirate women, Mister Neep. Very few indeed.”

  “I wonder why that is.” he mused.

  “Perhaps it takes a particularly rare type of woman to be good at being a pirate.” she said, walking behind him. “Good night, Mister Neep.” she called as she strode off down the deck and towards her cabin.

  “Good night captain.” he called after her, rubbing his chin one more time to ensure it definitely had not been cut. It hadn’t. But he could not quite shake the feeling that he would not need to shave in the morning.

  The storm had ceased their nightly rendezvous as Daisy oversaw the steering of the ship through the heart of the storm. By noon the next day general repairs had begun on The Magpie and Neep was happy to assist with carrying planks of wood and rolls of canvas about the ship as and when required. The general consensus of opinion was that rather than hinder them the storm had actually propelled the ship in the right direction, and now although the day was sunny and clear, there was a strong and favourable wind. The city of Nine Wells was just two days away.

  During the day Neep watched the repairs and made himself useful wherever he could, assisting by carrying and holding things in place as they were tied, hammered or sawn. He wasn’t sure what a lot of it was of course, but he helped nevertheless. During the early afternoon he noted one of the pirates emerging from below decks carrying a small parcel tied with string. He made his way along to the rigging of the main mast and then began to climb, disappearing high above him as he made his way to the crow’s nest. Neep thought about it for a while but as he was busy holding down a piece of wood that was almost as big as him as it was sawn in two it soon slipped his mind until exactly the same thing happened about an hour later. This time it was a completely different man.

  Neep watched him disappear into the crow’s nest and soon after began his descent. Curious, he resolved to find out what was going on. The mast of The Magpie was not even close to being as high as that of The Torta Di Frutta of course, and so this time his ascent was much less arduous and he made much quicker progress. He was surprised as he neared the crow’s nest when a somewhat familiar face peered over the parapet above, looking down at him. Neep began to climb faster and reaching the crow’s nest clambered in and sat breathing hard with his back to the wall of the platform.

  The man in front of him was very familiar. He had the same clean long grey robe, the same long grey beard and in fact looked in every way similar to the man he had found living in the crow’s nest of The Torta Di Frutta.

  “You are the man in the moon!” Exclaimed Neep and the old man gave a deep bow, but as he stared at Neep he suddenly seemed to come to a crashing halt.

  “I may be.” he sniffed, noticing for the first time that Neep didn’t actually seem to be carrying anything with him. “Do you have an appointment?” he grumbled, looking Neep up and down.

  “You were on The Torta Di Frutta too.” he said, pointing at the old man.

  “I most certainly was not.” he sniffed angrily. “And if you have no appointment may I suggest you take your leave?”

  “You were!” Neep almost shouted. “Advice dispensed both medicinal and non-medicinal, palms read and futures delved.”

  “Well that’s what I do.” said the old man... “Usually in fair and decent exchange of...”

  “...A few tasty morsels, containers of grog and other useful day to day trinkets.” finished Neep.

  The old man looked him up and down once again as if assessing him.

  “Do you ever forget anything?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Never.” said Neep as the old man raised an eyebrow in surprise. “It’s a family thing.” he finally explained.

  “I see.” said the man in the moon. “Well you can forget that I was in the mast of The Torta Di Frutta young man.” he winked. “Case of mistaken identity is that.” Apparently the subject was now closed. “Are we near Nine Wells yet?” he enquired as he took a seat next to Neep.

  “The captain reckons late tomorrow we should make it to the docks. I cannot wait to see the big city!” To his surprise the old man chuckled.

  “I was the same as you once, you know. It certainly is a sight to see. Quite a bustling place it is too, though merchants trade there from all over. Of course it has its dark side too, as any city will have.” Neep was trying to envisage so many people being in one place and was failing completely. “The pie on a stick was terribly tasty too, I must say. Neep looked confused as to why anyone would put a pie on a stick, but decided to ignore the question for now.

  “Do you know why they call it Nine Wells?” asked the old man and Neep laughed.

  “Well I imagine because it has nine wells.” he smiled and was confused when the old man shook his head.

  “Well it is named after the wells but Nine Wells actually has ten wells.”

  “So why isn’t it called Ten Wells then?” asked Neep. The old man held a finger up to his lips in a shushing motion.

  “Nobody mentions the tenth well.” he whispered.

  “Why not?” asked Neep. “Is it bad luck or something?”

  “Nobody mentions the tenth well.” repeated the old man.

  “So they subtract a well and call it Nine Wells.”

  “Nobody mentions the tenth well.” repeated the old man in what was obviously his final word on the subject. Neep rolled his eyes.

  “I have to go.” he said, crouching towards the gap in the parapet that would allow him to descend the rigging once again.

  “Enjoy the city!” called the old man after him. “And if you have a moment bring me a pie on a stick!”

  “Will do!” called Neep above as the old man waved him goodbye. Soon he was on the deck once again, and his final descent coincided with mister Bones and Ensephilephtor Boom wandering past.

  “Still no sign of Jenkins in pursuit.” he heard Bones mention as Boom kept pace with him. “So the captain wants the cannons ready to fire at all times.”

  “They always are.” smile Boom. “Yet the guns will have to be covered and silenced when we dock. The Beak doesn’t allow primed cannons in his city.” he said. Neep wandered behind, eavesdropping.

  “Of course.” said Bones. “We all have to pay service to what The Beak wants now, don’t we?”

  “Indeed.” said Boom and Neep watche
d as they went their separate ways. That night he stood at the bow of the ship waiting for Daisy to appear, but she did not show. Perhaps she is too busy, thought Neep before considering that the other side of the coin may show that she was not coming because she had seen Neep there.

  Shortly after a full moon rose over the sea and slowly but surely The Magpie crept towards the city of Nine Wells.

  Chapter 12

  ~The Devil’s Reef ~

  Jenkins reflected on the journey to the Seven Tines and The Devil’s Reef that blocked their passage. The wind had been in their favour and the journey was rapid, though now they had come to a dead stop. Jenkins lay the map out on the table in his cabin once again, the seniors pirates of his crew standing around the desk mostly scratching their heads.

  “No man has ever crossed The Devil’s Reef!” grumbled the man opposite Jenkins, who merely gave him a glassy eyed stare. The man to the speakers right however agreed.

  “Aye. That reef would rip our keel to splinters, and what was left would be dashed against the Tines themselves!” There was a general air of agreement around the table, for the facts were indisputable. The seven spikes of the far edge of the sea blocked further progress south, the tines themselves being surrounded by a long coral reef that no ship had ever passed. Eventually the reef ran out at the coast far southwest, but the land there was wild and overgrown. Many an explorer had ventured into that thick undergrowth. None had ever returned.

  Jenkins turned the map upside down. Then the right way. Then finally the right way again. Nothing. The map clearly showed that they needed to proceed further south for quite some way, but The Tines and The Devil’s Reef would not allow them. Jenkins growled loudly to himself and grabbing his eyeglass from the desk wrenched open his cabin door and disappeared onto the deck, the other pirates from the cabin in hot pursuit. They reached the quarterdeck and Jenkins extended the eyeglass and peered through it.

  The seven pillars of natural rock that jutted out of the ocean were not all visible from here. The barrier was across several miles, but the spear of stone they were nearest to rose impressively high into the air, dwarfing the masts of the ship as it towered overhead. The ship was at anchor for they could not proceed any nearer to the pillar. The coral was visible just below the ocean's surface, the seawater racing across it in circular motions, making the reef even more deadly than it already was. Jenkins noted through the eyeglass that there did seem to be a vast expanse of water on the other side of the reef, but it was difficult to say. This had been spotted before of course, but it was elusively out of reach.