Hah, wait’ll it gets tired, then pop it aboard fer dinner? Don’t lis-sen t’that fool. If’n we pulled a live shark aboard without a weapon atween us, we’d be the dinner! It’d eat us alive!
The danger they were in suddenly hit Scarum. His jaw dropped. Oh corks, we’re in a bit of a bloomin’ fix, wot.
S’all your fault, Sagax. Y’should’ve let me have a snack instead of makin’ me fish for it. What do we do now, chaps?
The shark made the decision for them by slacking off for a moment, then going into a dive. The Stopdog’s stern began to lift clear of the water.
Kroova had surmised right. They were beginning to be pulled under.
Eulaliiiaaaaaa!
Scarum made a dive for the rope, which was attached to the great seabeast.
Frantically he bared his teeth and savagely tore at the rope fibres like some sort of mad creature. Sagax and Kroova could only sit flabbergasted at the sight of their friend, suddenly gone wild, roaring as he chomped away.
Grrmph grrmph! Y’flippin’ foul fish! Chompchomp-chomp! You ain’t pullin’ us down t’the blinkin’ bottom! Gratch gratch! Can’t have my ma blubbin’ herself t’death! Grrmph! Chomp! Grumff! Grratch! Go an’
find your own dratted dinner! Grripp!
Curling and twirling, the rope strands began to part. Scarum’s jaws began going fifty to the dozen, his large, white buck teeth moving like a blur as he attacked the fraying fibres. Finally there was a loud twang as the rope snapped. All three were thrown flat. The Stopdog splashed down onto an even keel.
Kroova was first up. He dashed over to Scarum, who was lying facedown on the bow seat, and pounded his back delightedly. Haharr, ye did it, shipmate! Stiffen me rudder, I never seen anythin’ like that afore.
Twas tremendous!
Still with his head hard against seat timbers, face down, the young hare called out in a strange language, Gow! Geggoff! Gon’t goo gakk!
Sagax placed his head flat on the seat, level with his friend. Trying hard not to burst out laughing, he explained Scarum’s predicament to Kroova. You’ll never believe this, but he’s got his front teeth stuck in the wood. Scarum must have been biting so hard that when the rope snapped and our vessel slapped down into the water, he was still open-mouthed. His teeth stuck right into the seat!
The hare wailed, Git’s nog gunny, an’ it gurts!
Sagax patted Scarum gently. I know it’s not funny and it hurts. Keep quite still now,’mate. Let’s see if I can get you loose. Kroova, hold his shoulders.
The sea otter braced Scarum’s shoulders. Sagax went to work with his powerful blunt claws. Loosening odd splinters carefully and pulling away the larger fragments, he freed the hare’s teeth. Scarum sat up and clapped a paw across his numbed mouth.
Hanks’agax ... mummff! My teemff hurth!
He had to repeat the phrase until the badger understood.
Oh right, you said, ÔThanks, Sagax, my teeth hurt/ correct?
Scarum nodded his head gingerly and retired beneath the bow seat, where he lay nursing his sore mouth. Kroova was sympathetic.
Never mind, messmate. Yore gob’ll probly be painin’ ye for a while.
But you’ll soon be shipshape.
The remainder of the day passed uneventfully, with the otter and the badger tip-pawing quietly about, so as not to disturb Scarum at his rest. In the early evening, Kroova put tinder to flint and made a small fire with charcoal in a deep stone bowl. Sagax rummaged through the rations and came up with wheat and barley flour, a jar of preserved damsons in honey and a few other ingredients.
Mixing them together with some water from their little water keg, he asked Kroova, Ever had skilly’n’duff, mate?
His friend’s eyes lit up with anticipation. Ho arr, skilly’n’duff, ain’t nothin’ tastier. A sea otter’s favourite vittles, I’d say!
Sagax baked the mixture to a soft doughy pudding, using the damson juice and honey as a sauce. It smelled delicious.
Kroova made his way for’ard and shook Scarum awake. Grub’s up, matey.
Guess wot Sagax made fer us: skilly’-n’duff. Nice’n’ot, with damson juice an’ honey sauce poured over it.
The young hare crawled from beneath the seat and sat up with his head in both paws. He had turned a peculiar unhealthy shade. Boat’s been goin’ up an’ down, up an’ flamin’ well down, all day. Ooh, my mouth hurts like the blazes. I don’t think I’ll be takin’ any supper this evenin’, thank you. Just leave me alone here so I can die quietly, wot.
Kroova went back to the stern seat and accepted a bowl of supper from Sagax whilst he explained, Ole Scarum don’t want no supper.
The young badger was taken aback by the news. Doesn’t want any supper?
Is his mouth still paining him?
Kroova spoke through a mouthful of the hot skilly’-n’duff. Aye, but I knows the real reason. That creature’s seasick.
In the gathering twilight, Sagax found it difficult to see Scarum’s face. He served himself a portion of supper. Seasick, how d’you know?
The sea otter chuckled mischievously. ’Cos he’s gone the colour of a toad’s tummy. There’s one sure way t’tell, though. Watch this.
He called out in a jolly voice to the hare. Feelin’ better, me ole mate?
If the duff doesn’t suit ye, I’ll make ye up a tonic. Some cold water an’ oatmeal with a wild onion chopped in it, mixed up with a touch of beeswax tallow from a candle. That’ll put y’right, wot ye say?
A moan escaped Scarum as he staggered to the side of the ketch and leaned over, retching and heaving. Great rotten fat ruddered cad, that’s what you are. I’d sooner be scoffed by the shark than eat your foul concoction, wot!
Kroova grinned at Sagax and helped himself to more supper. Aye, our ole mate’s seasick sure enough!
Sagax sipped at his beaker of water. Poor Scarum. But with all the food he put away and that excitement today, plus getting his teeth caught fast, he has only himself to blame, really.
While he’s laying around the deck like that, why don’t you go and give a good check round under the bow seat? Ill search back here. There must be some sort of weapon, a knife, anything. I’d feel much safer if we had something better than a few wooden spoons in case of trouble. It’s important that we have at least one weapon.
They lit two small lanterns from the fire bowl and set about their task.
Scarum gradually moaned himself back to sleep again as night shades set in over the trackless deeps of the seas. In a corner beneath the stern seat, Sagax found a sling and some stones wrapped in a roll of old barkcloth. He was unwrapping them when Kroova returned carrying various objects.
Lookit wot I found under a ledge by the forepeakÑa sword, a dagger, an’ this old bow. Pity it ain’t got a string or arrers.
The badger inspected the sword. This is a typical searat blade, curved, with a cross hilt. My father has a collection of them in the armoury.
Rusty blade, with a few nicks in the edge. Sharp, though. I’ll clean it up a bit and it’ll look just fine. Let’s take a look at the dagger there, mate.
The otter tossed the knife in the air, catching it deftly by the blade tip. He turned it this way and that. Good ole apple slicer, this’un.
Ain’t a mark on it. No, wait___Aharr, this’ere pattern burned into the’andle’tis the same as the signs marked on the stern o’ this vessel.
Must’ve belonged to one o’ those searats I borrowed ole Stopdog from.
Cast yore eyes over that, matey.