Chapter 120

The Seed of a Wonder

How was it that each bucket was heavier than the last? They were only packed with dirt. No stones were added, nothing that might be bad for garlic—according to Abigail. The first few buckets I hauled from the wilderness, down to the coast, across the dock, and up the gangway, all weighed the same. But by the twelfth bucket, they were starting to become heavier. There was no choice but to set them down every once in a while and lay on wet ground to catch my breath.

As Admiral, I had to work harder and prove that I was the hardest working goblin here ever lived. So while Hawkin built raised beds on the sloop, and Thrush filled them with a stream of endless dirt from his private inventory, I rushed to help as best as I could. The amount of soil I contributed was equal to spitting in the sea.

That’s what it felt like when I dumped the last bucket onto the filled raised beds. I was happy, everyone was happy, but Hawkin had one of those looks. I tugged on his pant leg in an attempt to pull his thoughts from his brain and out his mouth.

I didn’t understand the concerns that he had. I told him that the raised beds were there to stay. Why wouldn’t the garlic or onions survive at sea? And if I wanted to plant flowers, why wouldn’t they survive either? There were storms at sea, sure, but those same storms went on land too. Plants grew on the coast, why wouldn’t my sloop behave like an island? When he told me that islands don’t move and bob and heave at sea, I told him that islands are full of plants and that plants did move—how else did they grow bigger? Birds made branches bob. Wind made the grass heave.

I was glad to have Hawkin’s concern; that’s what helped me improve my very first rafts after all; and I trusted him. With my sound reasoning, I think I soothed the human’s concerns. Even Abigail said not to worry. A couple of attribute beers would help to ensure the safety of all the plants I grew aboard.

I set the dirtied empty bucket down. I rotated a shoulder to unleash a foreign strain in my muscles. Foreign, because I hadn’t worked those muscles for a while; not since I worked under Gloom-glower and goblin captains.

I would make a better captain than any captain before me. Why not? I was an Admiral now and I would not do to goblins what was done to me. Non-stop bailing killed the occasional goblin, so I wouldn’t make my goblins work more than one shift at a time. I knew hard labor: bailing the day shift, sunup to sun down; only to bail the night shift when I was mistaken for having not bailed the dayshift earlier.

I could only follow orders and pray that I was picked when the captain asked for task-helps. When the captain asked, I would stand on my toes, on buckets, stretch my arm as high as I could and hope that I’d get picked. Many that got picked often received promotions.

Time and again, others were picked before me and I had to squeeze back in with the snots and keep bailing. Were it not for my pliers, I would not be here.

That should not be the life of goblins. Goblins worked hard enough to earn a better way of life. If I could bring that to a fleet of goblins, my dream would come true.

I would build more sloops because mine didn’t leak. There would be little to no bailing. When there were task-helps, goblins would be encouraged to help each other. Goblins would be free to live with meaning and purpose!

I would treat my new friends better than I was ever treated. I would give them the ol Slime-tooth pep talks that helped me keep my chin up when I thought I could no longer handle the goblin life.

I hoped Slime-tooth gave himself Slime-tooth pep talks. He deserved it. What if he didn’t? Was there anyone there for him? A goblin of his age, being commanded to and throw by Gloom-glower… I hope the king didn’t push Slime-tooth too far. That’s something to ask the next time Slime-tooth delivers back barrels of ptooey.

We would talk while I showed him the new raised beds on my sloop. Raised beds that were now all filled with dirt and were soon to be filled with garlic bulbs.

I’d been so deep in thought that I didn’t realize I had garlic bulbs in my hand ready to plant. One of Hawkin’s barrels was filled with bulbs. Thrush, Abigail, and Hawkin planted together. Boggo was helping too. The bestie handed bulbs up from the emptying barrel. I kicked myself into gear and trod in the raised beds.

When all had been planted, with only a couple of raised beds left, Hawkin and Thrush meandered back to the cabin to fetch more garlic bulbs.

I turned to Abigail when she said, “That’s all for now.”

“I hope they grow,” I said.

I stared at one of the raised beds and lost myself in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Abigail said.

“Sometimes I wish I had a whole spray of snots. I was thinking about Slime-tooth. I think I miss the company of goblins. Not all the time. Sometimes.”

“You’ll be seeing Slime-tooth next weekend, won’t you?”

“I like seeing him. He’s like a father. He’s getting old.”

“How old is he?”

I shrugged. “My sloop leveled up.”

“I can tell. Congratulations.”

“There’s a new crew cabin. Come see!”

I bounded across the deck. Abigail followed. I threw the cargo hatch open and descended into an empty space.

It was odd to find it so empty. There were no barrels of beer. The barrels that once held wooden planks now only held a piece or two. Where the barrels of beer used to be, I imagined that goblins should be there.

Their laughter would bounce through the cargo hold and crew cabin corridor the way that lights bounces. The laughter would come from so many different conversations, that the sound of goblins would be thick as a sweater.

On deck above, I would hear rigging and the organizing of planks and the smack of wet mop heads. Goblins, whom I’d taught to count, would be studying their fingers while they performed inventory. Their audible math might count for a shanty.

Others might be in the crew cabin corridor by my forecastle. Perhaps drinking and eating—laughing, of course. Laughing at a race of green ladders and declaring winners. Those that were sleeping would have pillows stuffed in their ears, or snores would tremble their lips.

But it was so quiet that even the sea hushed against the hull. I stopped at the new cabin crew and gestured for Abigail to take a peak.

“Looks roomy for a goblin,” she said.

“Could put a whole fistful in there.”

I gave a big sigh.

“Maybe you can have a goblin crew one day,” Abigail said.

“Maybe. I want to make sure I can feed them all and promote them. I’ll show you!”

Then I was off to the forecastle, with skeleton key in hand. I invited Abigail in and showed her the room that was filled with burlap sacks and loot chests and treasures and scattered coin. My hoard.

I opened the burlap sacks to show Abigail.

“You chose boots instead of your garlic wand,” she said.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“Remember when Hawkin told that story of the grandmother who waved a wand and made a home with it?”

“I do.”

“I wish I could do that for goblins. We live a hard working life. But it could be better! I could make it better! Sometimes it hurts to think about. It's hard to do. I’m trying my best. How come it's so hard, Abigail?”

“Is it easier when you have friends that help?”

“Oh yes yes yes.”

“I believe in you. If I know Barnacle-eyes, she will be a friend to other goblins. I’m surprised you don’t already have a crew of goblins.”

“I don’t want Gloom-glower to think I’m poaching goblins. He has enough harpoons to turn my sloop into one of his.”

“I see.”

“Do you think I could be a grandma and make my sloop a home; have lots of goblins to take care of?”

“You can do anything you set your heart on.”

I picked out two boots, and shoved a hand in each one. I clapped them together.

“Do you really think so?” I breathed.

“With all my heart.”

All her heart. Humans were bigger than goblins, thus their hearts must be bigger. And if Abigail thought so with her whole heart, then—aye aye aye—that was a lot. I sucked the air to expand my chest so taht maybe my heart could be as big as hers. Then, with hands still gloved with boots, I wrapped my arms around her in a big hug.

I spoke into the fabric of her pants. “I hope the garlic grows soon. I made new friends at the Green-shack in Lack-some-how-mist and I want to invite them onboard for the next delivery.”

“There might not be a delivery for a while.”

“Why not?”

“Hawkin has decided not to trade with Hiccup anymore.”

“What about the besties? What about the goblins? They still want beer. I could still deliver beer to them, can’t I?”

“You’re right. You’re right. Let’s go talk to Hawkin about that.”