“What y’mean he’s not at his post?” said Wade. He rose quickly. As did Valgur, putting his hands up in concern.
“What happened lad?” Valgur asked.
“It’s nothing,” said Wade, attempting to sober up through a force of will. “I have to check on my ship, is all. You stay n’ enjoy.”
“That’s alright. Me and mine thought we should be leaving soon anyway,” said Valgur hurriedly. “We’ll see you out.” The mingling crews left together in a hurry. Wade and his crew took the lead to go and inspect their ship while Valgur and his trailed behind, rallying his men to him while keeping just enough pace to see and hear what was said and done.
As Wade closed in on the dock, a groggy figure approached the rail of the Fifty Fathoms. “There’s thieves about,” said Royce, nursing his head. “I saw some boy, and then someone put a cloth to my face and put me out cold.”
An uproar erupted across the dock as Wade, still drunk, paced up and down, aggressively questioning his own crew and any others that were present. Valgur led his men toward Ye ‘Ol Marigold where the rest of his crew was already waiting for him. Then, there came a cry from a lookout aboard another ship.
“Oi. I think I see ‘em. Thieves, one small as a boy,” called the man.
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Valgur cursed under his breath. “Let’s get going,” he said as he made the main deck of his ship.
“Anchor’s already up,” said Silvertime, the ship’s navigator.
“Then push off, quicklike,” said Valgur.
Ye ‘Ol Marigold was was pulling itself free from the dock when Scuttle and Picaro rounded the bend in sight of the vessel. A last burst brought them to the lip of the dock where there was no choice but to jump the gap. Something of four or five feet separated them from their escape. Picaro held his breath and leapt. He seemed to freeze in the air for a moment, and it seemed the ship was moving further and further away from him, but then the rope rigging came up to slap him in his hands. He held on for dear life. When his heart returned to his chest, he began to climb.
Valgur was at the rail to pull him over. “I really hope y’brought something worth the trouble,” he growled. “What were y’trying to do, wake up the whole place? They know it’s us now, for certain. Keep a gun minded astern, and take us to open ocean.”
Silvertime laughed. “Not a problem, cap’n. That’s all there is out here.”
They were clear of the harbor when Picaro looked back to see a second ship peeling away from the dock in pursuit. It was the Fifty Fathoms with a likely frothing Wade Wilds in command.
Valgur watched the ship advance. It was smaller and more nimble than Ye ‘Ol Marigold, which was a large, twin-masted vessel stacked with wrought iron cannons, an envy of many a Free Man, and Valgur’s pride and joy. “Our firepower will outmaster them,” said Valgur with calm confidence. As the ship approached, Valgur drowned it in suppressing fire from the stern. His larger guns held the longer range, and after a game of cat and mouse the Fifty Fathoms suddenly averted its course to sweep in a wide turn back to Loneport, unwilling to follow their quarry into the vast ocean that was now covered in the shadow of night. Valgur and his crew cheered loudly, celebrating their victory.
A watch was kept until morning, but they had no pursuers. As dawn came they found themselves perched on a blue marble. Nothing but the sun and a lonely frosty white cloud greeted them. There was no shade. Based on the compass, Silvertime bade Ye O’l Marigold strike a course northwest toward the Barrier Isles, and Parley.
How it started:
- Samuel O. Ludescher