Chapter 138

The Sea Calls

Barnacle-eyes

While Thrush was still ashore, snacking on ethereal ingredients, Boggo familiarized himself with the new sails and rigging as we sailed out. It took a few moments for him to locate the correct rigging, but he raised the sails in order. The ketch lurched and then coasted out through the Mist Hidden wall.

The wind was good and steady. The sun was bright and it was warm out. Best of all, the garlic and onions were really reaching! The flowers which Abigail had grown were coming up fast. Their budding flowers dappled the ketch with color. There were so many plants that it sometimes felt as though I were still on land.

Not only was my ketch the biggest of those in the goblin fleet—even of the orcs’ ships—but it was also the most beautiful. My ketch was like one big floating potted plant. The sails were like a hat—a bandana! What a dream come true it all was.

A big floating potted plant wearing canvas bandanas!

After we sailed through the Mist Hidden wall, I swiftly sailed between goblin ships. One ship’s parts were being salvaged. I wondered whose ship had fallen apart beyond repair. I likely didn’t know the captain. I didn’t know any of the captains that commanded their snots while they raced like sharks to collect ship debris that bobbed at sea.

I sailed around the chaos and sailed south of the fleet with the current. Boggo called me starboard. He hugged a baluster and pointed at goblins floating in the sea. Drowned goblins. Dozens of drowned goblins were one with the sea. Wreckage was scattered among them. Even though my heart sank and should have been enough to anchor my ketch, I churned the capstan and dropped anchor.

Boggo looked at me with flattened ears. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the sight. It wasn't right that goblins should work so hard to keep their ships afloat just to have things fall apart like this. What I would give to build a ship for all the freebooter goblins in the world!

Boggo became enthusiastic and ran from baluster to baluster. He bounced on tiptoes and pointed to the corpses. He yelled over the volume of the sea and spray of salt and wind. I followed his finger and it took a moment for me to spy what he saw.

A goblin lay face down on drifting planks of wood tied together with saplings. The wood was beginning to knock apart because the crashing of the sea was thrashing the crude construction. The goblin’s hand was clutching the wood. And dead goblin’s didn’t clutch.

I needed Boggo’s help. He was at first reluctant, but after he pinched his lucky yellow tassel of fur, he stood straight and said, “You can do this Boggo. If you’re scared, just do it scared…Aye aye Admiral!”

In moments, I had him snug in a harness of rope. He leapt overboard and plunked into the sea. He paddled out to the goblin, worked the harness around the goblin, and then scaled the rope back to the ketch. He splattered onto the deck like a wet mop.

I heaved and heave-ho-ed with one boot braced against the taffrail. By Peg-tooth it was difficult to pull the goblin aboard. I gritted my teeth and mustered strength. Getting the goblin over the taffrail was difficult, and it took nearly half an hour to manage it. But we did it. When the goblin landed flat on her back, water gurgled in her throat.

Boggo leapt upon her. He jumped on her chest, up and down, until the goblin coughed. She vomited. I sat her up. Boggo bolted to the main mast and skittered up to the crow’s nest.

I patted the goblin’s back. “There there. Let it out.”

She gasped and coughed for a minute. Then she croaked, “Where am I?”

“You’re on my ketch. I’m Admiral Barnacle-eyes.”

“Barnacle-eyes, Barnacle-eyes. Why does that sound familiar?”

“What’s your name?”

“It’s…it’s…I cannot remember…”

“Try thinking about it.”

Her gaze took on a far-away look. Her face sailed through a sea of alternating frowns. She then shrugged, looked around at the ketch, and said, “Where are the others?”

“It's just me, and Boggo. Thrush isn’t here. Do you remember who your captain is? We gotta get you back home.”

“My captain is…my captain is…I don’t remember.”

“Try thinking again. Here, maybe this will help.”

I pulled a bulb of garlic from a raised bed. I brought out a tankard from my inventory and filled it with goblin spit beer. I stomped on the garlic, then scooped the mess up and dumped it in the beer.

The goblin sipped tentatively, then widened her eyes and gulped the rest in one swift chug. She mmm’d and mhm’d and smacked her lips. She wiggled her toes. Afterwards, she slammed the tankard to the deck and looked around.

“Where am I?”

“On my ketch. Why don’t we sail back to Gloom-glower’s fleet and see if any of the captains claim you.”

Her gaze bounced around. “Gloom-glower?” She struggled to get to her feet. Her gaze moved erratically. “They’re going to think I don’t want to work hard! I don’t know how long I’ve been missing! I don’t know who I am! I’ve got to get back to work!” She began running around the ketch. “Where are the bailing buckets? Where’s the water?”

“But my ketch doesn’t sink,” I said.

“Well what can I do? I’ve got to work!”

I chased her down and grabbed hold of her. “Slow down! Let’s give you a name.”

“I cannot remember my name.”

“Let’s call you Remember-not until you remember.”

“Remember-not…Aye aye captain.”

“Admiral.”

“Aye aye Admiral!”

“Why don’t we eat some garlic and see if we can figure out who your captain is.”

I invited her into the deck house. I gave her onions and garlic to eat while I tried to jostle her memory. Nothing worked.

“My captain is going to be mad at me! What if they hang my corpse up for a figurehead!”

“I don’t like that,” I said. “Never did.”

“I’m doomed.”

Remember-not’s features changed suddenly. They took on a grimace. A grimace I’d seen on many goblin’s faces. A grimace I myself had worn until leaving Gloom-glower’s fleet.

Then I had a thought.

“If you were on one of the ships that sank,” I said, “then that means your free game for whichever captain grabs you up first.”

Remember-not looked up at me. Her grimace unwrinkled. “You?”

Was this the beginning of things? Were there more goblins in the water that were near drowning? Goblins I could save and invite to be part of my crew?

My ketch was much larger than my sloop and it was impossible to manage by myself. Without Boggo, I’d be struggling. The sea was calling me down to Lavenfauvish, over to Fiberthorn cove, over to the black sea where I promised goblins I’d go deliver spit beer to, and toward other unknowns. Without a crew, I couldn’t manage all that by myself. Boggo was already working himself to the bone to help sail us out, leaping from rig to rig like a flying squirrel.

But wasn’t this what all my garlic and onions were for? To feed a crew. To be prepared to build a goblin-hearted family?

Was this really the beginning of things? Remember-not was only one goblin, and perhaps Hawkin wouldn’t mind one other goblin coming and going on his base. But what would he say when I had a dozen goblins?—a hundred goblins?—three hundred goblins?

I couldn’t ask Hawkin to let us live moored to his dock. He had spent so much time and energy trying to keep the goblins out, for good reason, because Hawkin’s love for the wilderness made me find love for it too. My ketch was afterall built from those woods and I owed Hawkin…I owed him…I promised him I would become the best goblin there ever lived. To do that, I think I had to say goodbye.

I would love to see him every now and then, but with Thrush’s inventory, and the dreambon ales, there was no practical reason to return to Hawkin’s dock…Was there? Seeing family was a good reason, and Hawkin made a fine goblin in my eyes. Like a father goblin. He was the second person to ever care for me. Of course I’d have to come back for Slime-tooth too; if I could ever pick a goblin to bring aboard, it would be him. I worried about him.

It was indeed the beginning of things.

I smiled at my first goblin sister. “Welcome aboard, Remember-not.”