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A Seafaring SagaChapter 13: Magic Rock
It was the middle of the night on board the Mantis. Below in the crew’s quarters a pirate moved in his hammock. Reaching below he lifted a lose floor board and took out the small box inside. Then, reaching into his pocket he pulled out a bright emerald broach on a golden chain. It was beautiful. The pirate turned it over in his hand, letting the green light glint off his eyes before placing it into the box.
“You’ll have a good home now.” he whispered, “In with all my other precious things.”
He had stolen the trinket only that morning and what a steal! The pirate returned the box to its nook and lowered the board. But before he had quite set it down…
“Slitcherd.”
The sudden, deep voice from behind him made the pirate jump, startling him almost right out of his hammock.
“What do you want?” Slitcherd hissed, creeping out of his swinging bed.
“Smythe wants to see ye.” the big pirate sneered at him, “Up in Cap’in's quarters.”
Slitcherd grunted and started to leave, but the burly pirate grabbed his arm as he passed. “Hold it Rat! Pretty strange to be called up there in the middle o’ the night. This when you get paid fer yer peachin?”
“Don't you even touch me!” Slitcherd hissed, “Smythe will have your head if you lay a hand me.”
“Arr. Really? Well how will he know it’s me if there’s no one left to snitch to him.”
“Who else would it be? He already knows you’re behind all the complaints. Now -- let -- go.”
The muscled pirate looked like he would rip the smaller Slitcherd’s head off for a moment, but his rational side won out and he released the greasy sea rat with a jerk. Slitcherd grinned as he made his way up onto the deck.
“Treachery beats strength every time.”
He was a peach of course. A snitch in every sense of the word. He specialized in discovering the little treasures his mates hid from the captain. All the pretty things go to the captain. That was his motto. Well…not quite. Slitcherd felt that some of the pretty things ought to go to him. And in payment for Slicherd’s snitching on his mates, Smythe turned a blind eye to Slitcherd’s snitching from his mates. After all, why give something to the captain when you can steal it for yourself? Slitcherd was an excellent pick-pocket and thief. And when he stole something, he did it so stealthily that you couldn’t prove he had done it.
It was always the same. If a pirate lost some pretty trinket he would blame Slitcherd and call for justice. But of course they couldn’t prove it and because of Slitcherd’s understanding with Smythe, nothing would happen. Still, Slitcherd was a little apprehensive as he knocked on the door to the captain’s cabin. The broach he’d stolen that morning was the captain’s and what was more, that wasn’t the first time he pilfered Burtrand’s trinkets. Still, hadn’t he been careful about it? There was no way that Storm-Rider could know. There was a noise of someone fumbling with the latch and the door opened from the inside.
“Good evening, Slitcherd.” said Burtrand as the pirate entered, “How are sticky fingers doing?”
Slitcherd froze. Had the captain found out about his thefts somehow? He didn’t know what to make of this.
“Sir?” he responded.
“I believe we may a job for you, Slitcherd. That is, a pocket that needs picking.”
“Why does the ship rock so? It makes me ill…” Anastasia moaned.
Rosa said nothing. She was curled up in a corner, her legs drawn up to her chest and her arms around her legs. She, too, felt ill, but more so than the Crusader princess. She was used to the steady rocking of a ship when it traversed calm seas, but from the rocking, she knew the seas, while certainly not yet rolling, were getting quite choppy. There was a clang and several thumps. A pirate had entered the brig. It was Peggy, their new ‘tender’. Peggy had gotten the job of feeding and cleaning up the prisoner’s messes after Marble Eye had both lost his namesake and most of his teeth.
“’Ello, lassies!” called Peggy, stumping along with a tray in his hands. Peggy, as implied by his name, had a peg leg, and he had his very own distinctive walk. Ka-thump, shuffle, ka-thump, shuffle…
“The old Mantis’ in fer a beatin’, I can telly.” he cackled, tossing the tray in between the bars to avoid Rosa’s lashing arms, “Bloody storm brewin’!”
“Ooooohhh…a storm…I feel so sick…” moaned Anastasia.
Peggy cackled once more.
“Yehehehehe…ye lassies ain’t felt nothing yet, we be just touching teh very tip o’ teh storm…brace yerselves…heheheh…”
Peggy stumped off, leaving Anastasia and Rosa alone. Rosa looked at the stale bread and dirty water on the tray and thrust it aside. She was already too ill to eat, and if what the old salt said was true and the storm was bound to get worse…well, she didn’t want anything in her stomach to throw up.
Burtrand Storm-Rider scanned the horizon to the south. A storm was brewing there. Already the waves were becoming choppy. It was coming north.
“Are ye sure we can outrun it, sir?”
“Sure? Course I’m not, but I needn’t remind ye what will happen if we’re caught here in the straits. That northward gale would sweep us right into the shores of Knights Kingdom. We’d be run aground at best. And I’ll trust ye to follow my orders. Batten down the hatches but leave the sails. We’re gonna make a run for it and get out of the squall’s path before it hits. Westward ho.”
“Aye, sir. You gave those orders before and we done ‘em. We’re set fer a storm excepting the sails. But…eh.”
“Yes?”
“Couldn’t we make harbor along the coast? Just until the storm passes.”
“Smythe. We’re pirates. Think about it. No, we’re going to take a chance. They don’t call me storm rider for nothing.”
“Uh, one more thing, sir. Slitcherd’s waiting in your cabin.”
Burtrand opened the door with slam. “Do you have it?”
“Aye,” said Slitcherd, “I has it. Slipped it out of his pocket when he weren’t look’n. Is this what you wanted?”
The greasy pirate held out a small, smooth, green colored stone with a dark hue.
“Aye, that’s it.” said Sydney, “That’s the magic rock.”
“We’ll see.” said the captain.
He grabbed Slitcherd’s hand, wrapping the pirate’s bony fingers around the rock. Then, in one swift motion, he whipped out his saber and plunged it into the man’s gut. Slitcherd screamed and Smythe coughed, nearly choking from shock. Dark red blood poured onto the cabin floor as Burtrand removed his sword.
The captain had seen this scene before. The man would scream at first from the initial pain and shock, just before his face contorted into the grotesque pained expression, accompanied by short, stifled gasps. Then his eyes would roll back in their sockets as the man finally slumped to the deck. The captain had seen this before and it was exactly what he was expecting now.
But Burtrand was in for a surprise. Instead of becoming short of breath, Slitcherd only screamed louder. Now he fell to his knees, clutching his abdomen. Burtrand didn’t know what to make of this. He turned to Smythe, but the first mate was more baffled then he. At last Slitcherd began to quiet down. The bleeding too had died to a trickle.
“I don’t believe it.” said Burtrand in shock, “It is magic!”
The rock was still in Slitcherd’s fingers, clamped down by Burtrand’s own hand. “Thank ye, Slitcherd.”
The captain said grinning.
“Oh and by the way,” he said, bending down and looking straight into the tear-streaked eyes of the gasping pirate, “You shouldn’t have stolen from me.”
And with that, he wrenched the stone out of Slitcherd’s hand and threw him onto the cabin floor. Without the rock, the pirate stood no chance and it wasn’t long before he was still.
“You killed him!” Sydney screamed, “You bloody murdered him!”
“I’m sorry Smythe.” Burtrand sneered, “Ye’ll have to find ye’reself a new spy. No one steals from me.”
The captain turned and opened the door.
“Be it known,” he called out to those on deck, “that the pirate Slitcherd has been caught stealing from me and had been punished for it. Ye can take the body out of me cabin and dispose of it.”
At this there arose a loud cheer from all the pirates on deck. For there wasn’t a tear among them shed for the rat named Slitcherd.
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