The sun was high in the
sky when Corsair’s ship pulled into port. As he gave the order to
tie down the ship, Corsair caught sight of a commotion farther up the
dock. A short, skinny man was being accosted by three ruffians.
“If you know
what’s good for you, you’ll stay home today”, said the one with
the big nose and flat chin.
“We wouldn’t
want you to be involved in an… accident”, the fat one snarled.
The smaller man backed
away. “Please… just leave me alone!”, he cried, almost
literally.
The third man was winding
back to hit him when Corsair stepped between them. “What seems to
be the trouble, gentlemen?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Who the hell are
you?” barked the fat man.
“Who cares”,
said the lanky one, clearly still eager to punch someone. “we’ll
show him to mind his own business”.
The lanky man took a great
swing at Corsair, but Corsair was too quick for him, ducking right
under his hook and sweeping out his legs. The lanky man fell
sideways off the dock and into the water with an undignified splash.
Corsair stood back up in
time to see the fat man charging at him, but a short step to the side
and a little nudge sent the fat man into the water as well. The
lanky man was just barely able to avoid being flattened, but he was
completely drenched by the resulting explosion of water. The third
man with the big nose thought better of trying his luck, and ran off
toward the harbour as his two accomplishes slowly began to swim back
towards land. “This isn’t over, kid!” cried one of them, but
he could scarcely be heard as the fat man floundered about, splashing
and kicking every which way.
“Are you all
right?”, Corsair asked the shorter man, after they had gone.
“Yes, thank you,
mister”, the short man replied. He was still trembling a little,
but seemed unhurt.
“Why were they
after you?”, asked Cross, appearing behind them. “Sorry I missed
all the excitement, but someone had to make sure the ship didn’t
float away.”
“Because of the
big boat race today”, he said, timidly, “I might not look strong,
but I’m a good rower, and my family needs the prize money or we’re
going to lose our house. Unfortunately, they’ve already scared off
my teammates…” Suddenly, his voice picked up. “Hey, mister,
you and your friend came in on that big ship, right? I bet you must
be pretty good at rowing yourselves! Would you help me win the
race?”
“If your pals
there row as poorly as they swim, I’d say we’ve won already”.
Corsair pointed the fat man, who still had yet to reach the shore.
The short man laughed, and they shook hands. Together, the three of
them walked down the dock towards the harbour.
Towards the east end of
the harbour a large crowd had gathered along the edge of the pier.
The race had already been set up, and various participants were
milling about along the dock that was to serve as the starting point.
It was not hard to spot the three from before, as two of them were
still dripping wet. “Hey kid,” said the one with the big nose,
“it doesn’t matter who you found as a replacement, we’re still
gonna crush ya.” The other two quickly turned away once they
caught a glimpse of Corsair, and remained silent. “Our boat is the
last one”, said the short man, and he lead them to the edge of the
dock where his boat was tied. With their new friend in front, Cross
in the middle, and Corsair in the back, they paddled up to the
starting line along with the rest of the boats. The only one left on
the starting dock now was the starter, holding his pistol in the air.
The starter’s pistol
rang out loud and clear, and the boats took off. Corsair and Cross
weren't used to racing and had a poor start, but the little stranger
was as adept as he claimed, and they quickly found themselves pulling
away from most of the other boats. Corsair turned his head briefly
to glance at their competition – the two teams closest to the pier
were ahead of them, with most of the rest of the rest of the boats
falling back. None so far as their aggressors, though, who seemed to
have lost an oar and were rowing in a zigzagging pattern and cursing
each other. Corsair chuckled to himself and drove his oars harder,
rowing with all his might. The boat closest to the pier began to
fall back, and they pulled even with the lead boat. Corsair knew
they were traveling fastest, and neither of his companions showed any
sign of slowing down. He could practically taste their victory…
“Russell!” came
a shout from the crowd gathered on the pier. Instinctively, Corsair
turned towards the sound, but amidst the great throng that had
gathered to watch the race he could not possibly determine the
speaker. “RUSSELL!!” cried the same woman again, much more
louder and more insistent. This time, Corsair turned the other way,
towards the ocean, and he immediately understood the source of the
woman’s distress. A giant wave was bearing down upon them, it must
have been at least fifty feet high. Corsair did not even have time
to warn the others before the wall of water swept over them.
Their boat capsized
instantly and was swept away by the giant wave. Corsair fought his
way to the surface just in time to see the wave crash upon the
harbour. The entire harbour and the city beyond were claimed by the
sea in an instant, and as the giant wave passed and the waters grew
still there was no sign that they had ever been there. Corsair
searched about frantically, but there was no sign of the stranger or
anyone else, only the ocean and his ship remained, and the sky above
was rapidly growing dark and stormy. Suddenly, Cross’s head popped
out of the water a short distance away, coughing and sputtering. “We
have to get back to the ship!”, he yelled, but Cross was barely
moving.. Grabbing Cross by the arm, Corsair swam with all of his
remaining strength towards the ship. The sea was pitch black now,
and Corsair could barely keep his head above the water. He closed
his eyes and thought of Sister as he drove his arm forward for the
final time…
---
Cold!!
Corsair’s entire face
exploded with sharp, tingling discomfort. His vision was blurred,
but he could see a silhouette against the night sky. He realized he
was lying down, and as his focus returned, he could see Sabre
kneeling over him, holding a bucket.
“You two cut it
way too close this time”, she said disapprovingly, putting the
bucket down beside him.
“It all happened
so fast” said Cross, to Corsair’s right. His voice sounded weak,
but Corsair was relieved to hear it. “A giant wall of water washed
everything away in an instant. We had no warning”.
Corsair tried to pull
himself up, but his arms would not respond. “Keep sailing
northwest”, he said, weakly.
“What kind of
thing to say is that, after what you’ve just been through?” She
leaved forward and lifted him up into a sitting position. His body
felt like it was made of stone, and he very nearly toppled back down
to the deck. “You should regain your own strength before you go on
worrying about others”, she chided him. Nevertheless, she
disappeared from view.
With great effort, Corsair
turned his head towards Cross, who was also sitting up with some
difficulty. “Thank you”, he said, “I thought I was a goner
back there.”
“I can't believe
such a giant wave could get right behind us without us hearing it”,
Corsair said, trying to knock some of the water out of his ears.
Cross shook his head a
little. “I could barely hear anything over the sound of that woman
shouting.”
“Yeah, I wonder
what that was about? I'm pretty sure that wave wasn't there until
that started. Do you think she was trying to warn us, or maybe she
created that wave somehow?”
“I don't know, and
I don't think it really matters. We're lucky we made it back here at
all. It's another reminder of just how dangerous these adventures
can be.”
Corsair said nothing, he
was looking past Cross into the night sky. This was not the first
close call they had faced, and it would not be the last. But what
would have happened if he had been a little slower? Would Sister
have made it if it happened to her?
Sabre returned. “We
have a guest”, she said, disapprovingly.
Somehow Corsair found his
way to his feet. He really didn’t feel up to facing Lay again, and
he was desperately trying to come up with an excuse to get rid of
her. Perhaps he’d tell her that he had to update his journal, but
she wouldn’t appreciate why that was important. Or maybe he’d
tell her that his crew had barely made it back and needed his
attention, but then she’d accuse him of being irresponsible or
bring up Sister again. He was wracking his brain for another excuse,
but he was too worn out to think clearly. However, he didn’t need
it, “Good evening, Corsair,” came a man’s voice, “how have
you been?”
In stark contrast to
Corsair’s bedraggled appearance, Captain Pack was as prim and
proper as if he never left his ship, and sometimes Corsair wondered
if he ever did. His grey fur was trimmed short and tidy, his
whiskers were perfectly straight and all the same length, and his
dark grey nose was so shiny it must have been polished. He was not
as tall or broad-shouldered as Corsair, and a little pudgy around the
middle, but one had to give credit to his consistency – He looked
exactly the same every time Corsair saw him.
“I’ve been doing
well, myself”, Pack offered, answering the expected response
Corsair hadn't yet given. “My crew as well, they’ve been
completing their duties quickly and without incident.” He paused a
moment, noticing Corsair's current condition. “It's what we all
strive for, eh?”
“I suppose that
might be nice.” Corsair said, dryly. His arms still felt like they
were about to fall off. He tried to clench his right paw, but a
sharp pain shot up his arm. He remained still.
“Indeed so”,
Pack continued, “it’s best to keep your head down and stay out of
trouble. The alternative is simply dreadful”.
“No one knows what
the alternative is. Not truly”.
“Those who know
can never tell their tale”, he said, betraying a hint of something
buried beneath his jolly demeanor. “I've seen what happens when
people get too close, that’s enough for me.”
Corsair had to admit that
he was right. The thought of Sister going through what he
experienced tonight was bad enough, let alone whatever might happen
if she hadn't made it back to her ship. “I think Sister might be
in trouble”, he said. “I’m trying to find her”.
“Oh, is that how
it happened?” Pack replied, sounding both exasperated and annoyed.
“Honestly Corsair, deviating from the program only leads to pain
and problems, you know that better than anyone. I know you want to
help, but we just have to be patient and hope she comes back safe and
sound.” His voice softened, he had some sympathy for Corsair's
plight: “Don't worry, she'll pull through. I’ll hope for her as
well, so please don’t do anything you'll regret.” He put a paw
on Corsair’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry about
Lapse”, said Corsair, lifting his paw away. “I know you tried.
But I have to try, too.” Pack looked hurt. “She’d do the same
for me”.
His lips quivered as
though he was going to say something, but he turned away. “Then I
will hope for you too, my friend", he muttered, walking back to
his own ship with his head drooped.
With his strength mostly
returned, Corsair returned to the helm. He hoisted the sails and
corrected the ship's course. Cross was not around to monitor the
ship’s course, but Corsair saw no reason to trouble him. Their
destination was still a long way’s off, and he needed time to
recover from their ordeal. With a last glance out across the night
sky, Corsair descended the steps to his cabin.
Inside, Corsair glanced
into his mirror and laughed aloud. He was not usually well-groomed,
but tonight he looked especially disheveled. The water Sabre had
poured over his head had pulled all the fur on his face towards the
back of his head, like he had been caught in a very strong wind. His
whiskers had all drooped downward, he had a lump on his forehead
above his left eye, and his eyes themselves were almost completely
red. “No wonder Pack was worried about me”, he thought,
jovially, “I wonder how he managed to keep a straight face.”
Corsair took a moment to fix his fur and straighten his whiskers.
With his features halfway-rearranged to his satisfaction, he flopped
down into his chair, suddenly exhausted. He knew he needed to update
his journal, but for a long while he merely stared blankly at the
wall of his cabin. When he finally found the strength to pick up his
quill, he found that his recollection of the stranger he met earlier
had almost completely faded. The man had been short, that much he
remembered, but he could not say for certain what the man had worn,
or what his face had looked like. He sighed. So many of his journal
entries had been vague. He flipped through the book briefly, hoping
to find something, then put it away. He knew he should go back to
the deck, but he didn’t feel quite up to it yet. A little longer
in his chair couldn’t hurt…
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