The Adventures of Scallywag the Sea Dog, Part 2

V

We were three days out of Harbortown, headed west-northwest toward the tiny Chunga Islands on the edge of the Blue and North Seas. We sailed under a mariner flag, which had a sea-green background with Neptune’s golden trident pointed downward. A trident is like a barbed, three-pronged pitchfork. It was a custom of the seas to fly a banner signifying who you were – mariners, merchants, fishermen, whalers, gypsies, and even pirates observed the custom.

The weather had been in our favor, and other than a brief squall each afternoon, it was smooth sailing. There are many who find the pitching and rolling of a ship to be nauseating, but I found the rocking comforting, and the rocking of the ship at night helped me sleep like a puppy.

That afternoon, I was sunning myself on the deck watching Peg craft an intricate captain’s desk, complete with inlaid mother-of-pearl from the inside of oyster shells. Behind me was Stick, scrubbing the deck and rambling on about the tiny mining village where he grew up. Stick liked to talk, and I liked to listen – which is a good thing since listening to peopleses is a little-mentioned part of a Sea Dog’s job description.

Carlos was busy mending a fishing net, when he suddenly stood up and walked past me with his gaze fixed to the sea. I lifted my head and watched him, and I heard Stick stop scrubbing.

“He’s got the eyes of a frigate bird, he does,” Stick said. “He can see 20 miles off on the horizon, and down a hundred feet into murky water.”

The fisherman stopped at the foot of the steps leading up to the bridge. First Mate Annabelle was at the wheel.

“Yes, Carlos?” she asked.

“North-northeast,” he replied.

She nodded and changed course.

“He also has a compass in his head,” Stick said. “I’ve never seen him use one, but he always gets his headings right.”

I went to the bow and watched, and two hours later, we came across a big mass of floating seaweed, probably a half mile across. Peg, Stick, and Beulah lowered the sails as we approached, and Carlos prepared one of the two rowboats for fishing.

Once The Dolphin had nearly stopped, they lowered the boat, and Carlos and Stick climbed down a rope ladder and climbed in. They rowed to the edge of the seaweed float and began fishing with heavy wooden poles. Almost immediately, Carlos hooked a 20-pound Mahi, and then Stick a 15-pounder. Within 45 minutes, they had caught 3- fish, the largest being a 40-pound mackerel.

Beulah set up the drying racks, while Peg got out what looked to be a rake tied to a coil of line. The catch was brought onboard, and Beulah set to work cleaning the fish, setting aside some for that night. The rest were filleted and hung on the racks to be salted and sun-dried.

The skies, empty of birds a short while earlier, quickly filled with gulls eager for scraps. And I eagerly set out to make sure Stick’s railing stayed clean.

Meanwhile, Peg lobbed the rake into the seaweed, and dragged in a large clump. It splatted on the deck, and Carlos and stick began retrieving shrimp and crabs and dropping them into buckets.

Being a good Sea Dog, I decided to help. To prove my worth, I went after the biggest crab I could find; a scurrying bugger that waved its front legs at me like I should be afraid. Hah! Me? Afraid of a crab? I pounced and grabbed it in my mouth, and…

Snap!

It latched onto my nose with a painful pinch 10 times worse than a scratch from a cat’s claws. I howled in pain as I shook my head from side to side, trying to rid myself of the accursed crustacean.

The crew all had a good laugh. Stick pried it off my now-bleeding sniffer and tossed it into his bucket.

“Best you leave the crabs to us, Scally,” he said with a grin. That was a bit of advice I decided to heed.

After the fish were cleaned and racked with the seaweed, the rowboat stowed, and the deck rinsed off, Annabelle hollered from the bridge, “Good work! Now’s a-time for a break!”

The peopleses disappeared for a few minutes, and then returned in their swimming garb. One by one, they climbed onto the railing and dove in. All except the captain, who climbed onto the railing of the deckhouse and jumped off, doing a “cannonball,” and the “ker-sploosh” sent a tower of water shooting 15 feet into the air.

Annabelle climbed back aboard up the rope ladder and called for me. I was suspicious but dared not disobey. To my surprise, she scooped me up off the deck with a smile.

“A Sea Dog’s got to a-learn to swim a-sometime, she said, and then proceeded to chuck my over the railing like a sack of oysters.

I soared through the air with my ears flapping. I pumped my legs as fast as I could, but quickly discovered that running in air accomplishes remarkably little. I hit the water with a splash. I panicked when I went underwater, but when I floated to the surface, I found that running in water actually does accomplish something. I doggy-paddled to the waiting arms of Beulah, who let me rest my head on her shoulder.

I had passed another Sea Dog test!

That night, Beulah cooked up the most wonderful meal. She even presented me with the very crab that had snipped my sniffer. It was hard to believe that just a few days earlier, I was fighting with gulls over fish scraps in Harbortown.

After dinner, came music and dancing beneath a coal-black sky, speckled with millions of brilliany stars. My puppy head was heavy, so I curled up in a coil of line, and I drifted off to sleep, wondering how anything could be more peaceful than the life of a mariner.

VI

Two days later, the sails of The Dolphin were still down, and we drifted northwest alongside the large raft of seaweed. We were riding the cold current that swept north past The Great Continent, including Harbortown and in a large counterclockwise circle. As we were in the southern hemisphere, it was warm in the north and cold in the south – just the opposite of the northern hemisphere.

Two small ships appeared on the horizon. They were the first boats we had spotted in days. It was clear from their course that they were approaching.

“Beulah!” Carlos said with a rare smile.

“Gypsies!”

Beulah frowned so deeply I thought the sun had disappeared, and she scampered below deck to the galley.

Stick tapped me gently on the ribs with a bare toe and knelt down. “Beulah kinda grew up on gypsy boats,” he said. “She got traded back and forth between ‘em for years before she found a new home on the continent. She didn’t take kindly to gypsies after all these years, and it’s good advice to you, too. Gypsies like to trade, and they’ll probably want you.” Stick patted my head. “But don’t worry, I won’t trade our Sea Dog.”

I gulped and felt scared and relieved at the same time. I retreated to the far side of the ship and got out of sight.

A while later, the gypsy boats arrived. After some greetings, the trading began, because that is what gypsies love most. Captain Carver did most of the haggling, and after an hour or so, we had traded most of our fish and a few other items for some fruits and vegetables, a necklace for Annabelle, a saw for Peg, and a new dress for Beulah. The gypsies got the best of the deal as they always did, but with Carlos on board, we knew we would always have plenty of fish.

The gypsies sailed off to the west, and I helped the crew raise the sails, and we headed north.

“We are headed for the Sailor’s Table,” the captain bellowed from the bridge. Stick told me this was a very famous fishing place far from land, where the bottom of the sea went from deep below to very near the surface. Fish loved the place, and for hundreds of years, it had been a popular place for sailors to replenish their drying racks.

A day later, I could tell we were getting near the Sailor’s Table because Carlos began to pace along the railings and scan the distance. As we drew closer, his pace quickened, and he scratched the hairy stubble on his cheeks and chin.

“What is it?” the captain beckoned from the bridge.

“Don’t know,” the fisherman barked as he continued to scan the seas with his dark eyes shadowed by his furled brow.

Stick and Peg lowered the sails halfway as we coasted toward the famous fishing ground. Carlos still looked uneasy.

“What do you see?” Captain Carver asked.

“Nothing but water,” the fisherman responded.

“No fish?”

“No, Captain.”

Carlos’ pacing quickened. Stick, Peg, and Beulah all stopped their work and began to watch. Carlos rubbed his eyebrows and marched to the foot of the bridge.

“What is it?” Carver asked.

“Full sail, away from here,” Carlos said.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, but the fish have left, and so should we.”

The captain’s face turned very grave. Carlos rarely spoke, but when he did, it was like hearing Neptune’s breath. Only a fool of a captain would disregard him, and Captain Carver was no fool.

“Full sails!” Carver commanded. “We head west!”

“And Captain,” Carlos said.

“Yes?”

“Best we ready our weapons.”

“Why?”

“Just in case.” Carlos turned and walked aft and grabbed a harpoon.

While Stick and Peg raised the sails, Beulah rushed below and returned with an armload of swords. She passed them out, which made everyone even more nervous – especially me.

Once The Dolphin was at full sail and gained steam, the crew relaxed – all but Carlos. He continued to study the sea with his harpoon at the ready, first on the starboard side, then the portside, then back.

Suddenly Carlos hollered: “HIT THE DECK!”

Everyone, including the captain, stopped what they were doing and dropped to their stomachs. I hid as best I could behind a big bait tank. Three seconds later, The Dolphin was slammed from below and knocked five feet into the air. All of the crew popped off the deck and slammed back down.

“Giant squid!” Carlos yelled.

“Weapons ready!” the captain ordered, as he scrambled to his feet.

My ribs were bruised from the impact of crashing on the deck, but I got back up and looked for any way to help.

Three giant tentacles slithered up from the water and grabbed ahold of The Dolphin and began to pull the ship into the sea, bow first. The front of the ship dipped low, and I slid across the deck, slammed into a fishing net, and a barrel rolled across my back.

Beulah, Stick, and Peg charged forward with swords drawn. They hacked at the tentacles, but the squid continued to bull the ship down. Seawater began to wash over the railing as the three crew members continued their assault, trying to keep The Dolphin from driving into a watery grave.

Finally, the bloodied but tenacious mollusk released its grip, and the bow of The Dolphin popped back up.

“It’s going to come back,” Carlos hollered.

The crew spread out across the deck, preparing for the next assault. I successfully avoided being trampled, but I was very scared. I wanted to help, but what could a Sea Dog do to fight a squid with suction cups larger than my entire body?

These questions were still racing in my mind when the squid attacked, angrier and more ferocious than before. Sex tentacles torpedoed out of the water and blindly reached over the starboard railing. One struck Peg in the head, and the gray-haired gal was knocked down, and her sword skittered across the deck.

The squid grabbed ahold of the railing and began pulling the ship over, eagerly hoping for some of us tasty morsels to land in the water. The Dolphin listed hard to starboard, and once again, water began to rush onboard.

The crew attacked and slashed at the four tentacles pulling the ship over, while two other tentacles waved about, randomly feeling for a meal. One came very close to me, so I jumped up and chomped it with all my might.

The squid recoiled from my bite, and I crashed to the deck. But it whacked back, thumping me on the head with a snap.

The others continued their slashing while the captain and first mate stood with their harpoons ready on the bridge.

“Get up here, Carlos!” Carver yelled.” We can see its eyes!”

The fisherman reacted quicker than a cat chasing a fly. He darted to the bridge, and the three mariners raised their harpoons.

“One! Two! Three!” the captain yelled, and they raised their sea spears with all their might and hurled them.

The harpoons found their marks, and the squid released its hold on the ship’s railing. The Dolphin quickly snapped back to its normal position, sending Stick sprawling on his backside.

I ran and poked my head overboard to see the last of the giant squid as it slipped beneath the sea’s surface, soiling the water with a cloud of black ink that polluted the briny froth.

My head throbbed badly from getting whacked by the squid’s tentacle. Stick was limping, and Peg had a bleeding gash on her forehead that Beulah was mending. Carlos continued to patrol the water for any sign the squid was to return.

Captain Carver and First Mate Annabelle surveyed the damage, which was surprisingly little. There were some cracked railings that Peg would replace – and Stick would keep clean – with my assistance, of course. But all in all, The Dolphin had proved a trustworthy wooden companion.

Later, the crew acted as if nothing had happened. They went about their tasks like an attack by a giant squid was just another humdrum part of life on the sea. As a young Sea Dog, I followed their example.

That night, Beulah prepared another wonderful meal, complete with squid steaks from a tentacle she had severed.

The seas had calmed, the sun had set, and the skies had darkened. My puppy eyes grew heavy, and I curled up in my favorite coil of line, still in disarray from the squid attack. But I didn’t complain, because Peg had taken a nasty whack on her head, which was now heavily bandaged. That, and in her continent accent, and with her usual serious expression, she sang, “The Sea is My Heart.” She sang it in a voice both beautiful and wise, and it was the best version I have ever heard, and trust me on that, for this Sea Dog has heard it hundreds of times.

Then Stick began to strum slowly, and Beulah sang softly:

The sea is like a river

That carries me away

Through the nighttime

And into the day.

Out on the ocean

Is where I belong

And the wind in our sails

Is the breath in my song.

As Beulah’s voice faded, I slipped into slumber, and my head was filled with dreams of more adventures on the sea.