Chapter 11

Thus-hence-be From-there-to-here

Barnacle-eyes

Oil in my hair. Wind in my ears. Wax under my fingernails. It’s an Admiral’s life for me!

I raised the sails and let the sea wind take me west toward the Mist Hidden wall. As I approached, I mixed a drop of Hawkin’s Mist Hidden attribute key beer into a tankard of goblin spit beer. The goblin spit was my personal batch, and the extra onions gave it a certain joy-no-say-quawk. It was lip smacking good and I took a good glug.

My sloop and I sailed straight through the Mist Hidden wall. The bioluminescent mist scanned the entire sloop with a line of bright purple-blue. When my sloop emerged on the other side, I put myself at the helm and navigated through the thousand and some goblin ships.

“Meat-fist, Meat-fist, Meat-fist,” I mumbled as I looked for the goblins’ ship.

He was hard to find since he was never in the same place. I didn’t mind. Finding him allowed me to practice navigating around moving obstacles. It was helping me to level up my Admiral quest path over time.

I found his ship in under an hour. It was recognizable by the three harpoon turrets on the bow. Meat-fist’s ship was the only one that had three turrets. Only Gloom-glower’s had more.

“Ahoy there,” I hollered and dropped anchor.

My sloop slowed to a near stop by Meat-fists’s ship. Although his ship was bigger than mine, I needed no other goblins to help me sail or bail.

“Beer!” Goblins chanted. “Beer!” They hollered.

Then Meat-fist’s gangway was lowered down to my sloop. He and I exchanged pleasantries and small talk while the goblins fetched two-hundred, 15.5 gallon barrels of goblin spit beer. Teams of 6 rolled each barrel up from below deck and up the gangway to Meat-fists’s sloop. I was paid in gold. The gangway was raised and I churned the capstan to raise my sea anchor. After the strenuous task, I rigged the sails and began navigating back toward the port through the maze of goblin ships.

They were constantly bailing their ships. An enormous amount of goblin power went into bailing ships, I realized. The amount of goblins was awesome! I missed the social aspect of the goblins. Being crammed in the armpits of a fellow freebooters. I missed those good times.

But life was better now. I had more value. More important tasks to accomplish than bailing and doing errands for Gloom-glower—who didn’t appreciate me. I’d risen through the ranks of Hawkin and Thrush.

There was just one more task to perform before returning to port. I had to find Zik’s ship. It was easy to find since the orc’s all gathered at the entrance to the Mist Hidden wall.

The orc ships were dark and eerily quiet compared to goblin ships. No figures moved hellishly aboard. No one bailed water. The deck was almost silent, save the occasional large figure walking around.

When I hollered up for Zik from beside his ship, the gangway was soon lowered onto mine. His orcs carried up 5 barrels at a time from my cargo hold. They received a delivery of 200 barrels, and paid 7 times what the goblins paid.

“Two-hundred,” Zik said. “This is looking good. Ogo will be very happy.”

“Your ships have gotta be chock-full.”

“Yeap. Ogo is going to send all but one ship north to deliver all the spit beer to the volcanic isles.”

“Good luck with that,” I said. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Until next week, Admiral Barnacle-eyes.”

Now that put a smile on my face!

I raised the anchor, took a break to catch my breath, and rigged the sails. Another sip of my Mist Hidden spit beer blend took me through the wall and back to port. Before I threw my docking line over one of the cleats, I spotted Thrush walking up the dock. I swung an arm in a big way and said, “Ahoy!”

Thrush arrived by my sloop. He looked at me and raised his lips to show an array of sharp fangs. It was his attempt at a smile.

“Barnacle-eyes,” he said. “Are you coming or going?”

“Coming,” I said.

“I was hoping we could go fishing together.”

“I’m all pooped out,” I said. “It’s a lot of work to sail-anchor-sail-anchor-sail without a crew.”

“I could help.”

“Would you?” I said. “I could hire you!”

“As long as we negotiate a hiring contract to help me with my Merchant quest path.”

“Come aboard,” I said and lowered my sloop’s gangway to the dock.

The dock groaned beneath Thrush as he stepped onto the gangway and shifted his weight off the dock. The gangway groaned when he took another step. Then his foot broke through the planks.

“Oops,” he said.

“Thrush! You have to be careful! It’s not easy for me to fix stuff!”

He apologized. I huffed and grumbled while I dashed aboard the sloop. I rushed below deck, beyond the cargo hold to my private forecastle. A skeleton key granted me access. The room was bare save for my cot, several barrels and chests that housed my hoard, and a few other barrels that held ship supplies. One barrel held wooden planks. I grabbed a few and returned to the broken gangway.

“It’s ok, Thrush,” I said when I returned. “No harm, no death.”

I placed a plank over half of the broken hole. I engaged my Boat Builder skill and the plank eased into place, knocking the broken bits away. The wood joined that of the gangway to form a solid joint. Then I repaired the other half of the hole in the same manner.

“Impressive,” Thrush said. “I think I’m too heavy because of my inventory. I’ll leave some things ashore and return.”

Thrush went ashore and emptied a mountain of random items from his inventory. 20 fully developed old growth trees. A small hill of dirt. At least 40 boulders. Then at least 100 barrels.

When he returned, the dock did not groan beneath him this time. The gangway did, but it held. And when Thrush climbed aboard, the stern of my sloop sunk far into the sea. At least the whole sloop didn’t sink.

I followed Thrush aboard and raised the gangway. Then we met in the deckhouse to talk business. When he crossed to the bow, my sloop tipped forward into the water, and we both went tumbling. I heard all my furniture and items knocked around in the deckhouse.

When I finally found my feet, I said, “You’re gonna have to stay close to the middle of my sloop while we sail.”

“Let’s put that in our contract,” Thrush said.

We sat to hammer that contract out. Thrush guided me the whole way, asking me to challenge him, to call his bluff, and not take any of his threats lightly. I couldn’t help but double over in laughter. When at last we drew up the contract, Thrush read it aloud.

“Mr. Monster Thrush has here-forthcoming-to accepted position on the Barnacle-eyes’s sloop. Thus-hence-be position shall from there-to-here be name-called as Friend. Thrush has accepted the Friend position with no expectations, deliberations, or disturbances. He will keep most of the fish he catches and be paid one high-five per diem.”

“Sounds perfect,” I said. “What happens next?”

“I sign at the bottom and the contract is finished.”

“Can we go sailing now?” I said.

“Let’s go fishing,” Thrush said.