Okay, this time, no prologue. No excuses. I just finished it, and I'm so psyched about it that I just want to post it. I'll add some notes at the bottom, if you can hang with me that long. I promise, it's worth it. Well, I think it is, anyway. I always get this post-finishing-a-story high. It's better than any drugs you could come up with.
Ahem. Remember that no-prologue thing? I'm leaving you alone now.
Chapter 9:
Farewell and Adieu
Allow me to begin the final leg of my adventures thusly: whenever embarking on an adventurous mission for glory and honor on the seven seas aboard your trusty and momentously named vessel, always make sure to bring with you a carpenter. It saves you an infinite amount of work. Kapp'n, as he made clear to me after having pulled his head out of the clouds of love for a moment, had finished top in his class at the Farway Acadamy's School of Basic Carpentry and Emergency Shipbuilding in Times of Deadly Crisis. My own knowledge having been gained in the more natural way (sweat, hard work, determination, and unparalleled experience), I had not taken the time to enroll in such a superfluous course…
But, I mean to say, if he had gone through all the trouble of writing term papers and completing final exams for just such a life-saving project, who was I, a master of all trades, to take this opportunity away from him? No one, that's who. I did decide to lend him a small amount of professional advice, however. It's not every day that a master enters the midst of the average craftsman. It would have been a crime to deny him my help.
So, to cut a long story detailing all of my (I mean, our) creative conquests short, the two of us set to work, armed with nothing but the sweat on our brows, the strength of our backs, a handful of roughly hewn tools from the surrounding jungle foliage, and Kapp'n's well-worn copy of Redd's Shipbuilding For Dummies ($7.99 in most local bookstores). Chip, who was nothing if not incompetent with his hands, set about supervising the best way he knew how.
He fell asleep, I mean.
Kiki the jungle cat continued to pace around us as we worked diligently in the island heat, occasionally striking poses against the trees that would have easily graced the pages of Cat Fancy any month of the year, and I'm not just saying that.
"Cap'n, look," Kapp'n whispered hoarsely, wiping the sweat from his forehead and gazing at Kiki, who had recently let out a dramatic sigh and looked up at the birds fluttering serenely overhead, the light striking her striking features strikingly. The old turtle seemed to be somewhat out of breath, and I knew that it had absolutely nothing to do with the physical labor. I hoped his heart wouldn't give out before he'd had the chance to strike up a conversation with the poor cat, but I didn't like to think any farther on the subject because, as I've said, there are many subjects that I will converse upon. This is not one of them.
"I assume you don't mean the birds," I said dryly, hammering a nail into one of the boards.
If looks could kill, the one Kapp'n directed at me would have had me sleeping with the fishes in under thirty seconds.
"I didn't think so," I sighed. "Really, man, it's time to get your head out of the clouds and start thinking straight. I mean, where are we going to go as soon as we finish this ship? What's the next port? We have all the options in the world, but I for one would feel much better if we were to direct the bow somewhere far to the east, or west, or north, or south, or actually any direction that took us a large distance from MacDougal or anything that reminded me of him. Which, like I say, still leaves us plenty of options. We could visit Villeburg, Bay Harbor, Peninsula Point, or, my personal favorite, the shady shores of the Shadowed Shoals…"
Would you believe me when I told you that he wasn't listening to a word I was saying? All my infinite wisdom of the seven seas pouring onto his ears (or whatever turtles have to serve as auditory receptors) and he didn't give me so much as a smile and nod? Absolutely ridiculous. "Well, that should do it, Cap'n," he said distractedly, still gazing at Kiki with an idiot smile on his face. "Now, if you'll excuse me for a mo'…"
"Wait, we're done?" I said blankly, looking at the structure we'd just built with our bare hands and paperback step-by-step guide. "Don't we have to, to, hoist the jib or… raise the main sail or, or, or anything?"
"Nah, Kapp'n, looks to me like we're done," Kapp'n contradicted.
If I hadn't been a well-respected naval captain in full view of the public, I would have danced a silly sort of jig on the spot at this pronouncement. "Well, what are we waiting for, mate? Wake the beaver, all hands on deck, let's get this rig on the open seas and set off into the sunset!"
Kapp'n stopped in his pacing across the clearing. "Well, er, actually, Cap'n," he said slowly, "I'm not exactly sure I'm goin' t' be settin' off into any sunsets at the mo'."
I looked at him askance. "What, you think we should wait until morning? Well, that's not nearly as dramatically traditional, now is it? Let's trust my expertise on this one, shall we?"
"That's not wha' I mean, Cap'n," Kapp'n said patiently. "I've been a-talkin' to Kiki a lot lately, and she thinks, well, there's a nice port town near the island, and they been needin' a ferry system for a long, long time. So I was thinkin', maybe I could set up a little yacht, and I could… I could stay here with her," he finished quickly.
Love! Thwarted out of a crew member by love! Call me bitter, call me a curmudgeon, call me anything you want, but I shook a clenched wing at the heavens for having put that blastedly attractive feline in my path! Blast! Foiled again!
"Er, Cap'n… are you feeling all right?" Kapp'n asked sheepishly.
"Absolutely! Perfect! Why wouldn't I be?" I laughed with forced cheerfulness.
"Well, ye just yelled, "Blast! Foiled again!" to the sky, y'see…" Kapp'n pointed out.
I blinked. "Did I say that out loud?" I asked, genuinely perplexed.
"…Aye…" he admitted. "Listen, if ye need me wif ye, I can stay on, but Kiki's one of the best things t'happen t' me, and…"
"No," I said quickly. "No, you stay. Build your Yacht of Love and ferry passengers with your bonny lass, my good man. You deserve some happiness. If anyone deserves, the good life, friend, it'd be you, take my word for it. And the word of Captain Gulliver, Champion of the Deep, is not something to be given idly." I'm not one for flowery speeches, but I genuinely meant every word of that.
It was obvious that Kapp'n saw I was in earnest, for his eyes welled up with tears of appreciation and he hugged me impulsively around the waist.
"Thankee, Cap'n, I'll never forget ye and all ye've done for me!" he sobbed. "Ye've given this ol' turtle the chance for one last adventure in his golden years, ye helped me find me love, and I owe ye everything! I love ye, Cap'n, I really do!"
"Er, well, that's very nice and all," I said, somewhat strained, "but would you mind letting go of me? You're crushing my lungs."
"Oh," he said sheepishly, leaping back. "Sorry."
"It's nothing," I said, gasping for air. "Breathing's overrated anyway."
*************
Twenty minutes later, Chip and I had managed to roll my second vessel, lovingly christened The Crusty Barnacle II, from its spot of conception to the makeshift harbor on the shore of the island, and we were now standing on the lower deck, leaning over the side to look one final time at The Isle O' Mole. The sun was setting beautifully over the horizon, painting the trees in shades of gold and crimson and other colors that my sizable lexicon does not extend enough to describe. A certain heaviness weighed down my heart, uncomfortably conflicting with my longing to be out on the open sea where my ever-roaming heart belonged. I had never thought myself to be a sentimental person by nature, myself always having been my best companion, but the thought of leaving my loyal and brilliant first mate behind, no matter how happy he was sure to be, tugged painfully at my heartstrings.
"You're really going to miss him, aren't you, Cap'n?" Chip asked me gently.
"I think so, Chip," I said softly, looking pensively out at the treeline. "I think so."
"There there, Cap'n," he said, patting me on the shoulder in a parental way. "It'll be all right. We can come back and see him whenever you want, and…"
"Chip?" I said sharply.
"Yes?" he asked brightly.
"Don't touch me."
"Sorry."
Unable to think on the prospect of leaving any longer, we decided to get the hardest thing out of the way first, and we hoisted anchor and let the roaming easterly breeze that blew across the great blue expanse carry us off to sea. It may have been merely my imagination, but from the island that dissolved into a smaller and smaller speck behind us, I swear I heard a single, scratchy voice warbling through the night air.
"Farewell and adieu to ye, fair Spanish ladies…"
*************
The days seemed to pass with a jarring unusualness to them. It was strange, it being just me and Chip aboard a ship that, for all its similarities, could never quite equal the grace and majesty of the Crusty Barnacle. It would take some getting used to, the absence of the things that had attached themselves so surely to my heart and soul and my very being, but I was sure that as resilient as we both were, with some time we would come to adjust.
As it happened, we were never given the chance. Fate has a strange way of arranging things. You may think the cards are going to fall one way, but then with one tip of the knife balanced on an insubstantial wind of faith, the balance tips and the pendulum swings and your metaphors get all mixed and you have absolutely no idea what's going to happen next.
It started out seemingly to be a beautiful day; the sky was blue, the water was blue, most of the other natural phenomena occurring around us were blue also, Chip was whistling an idle tuneless song as I steered the ship through the mostly calm waters, and then… things began to change. Clouds rolled in like a person with a gambling problem at a crap shoot, the water began to turn a cold, unforgiving slate gray, and then the most horrible of all signs happened.
My left wingtip began tingling.
"Oh no," I breathed.
Chip immediately stopped whistling. "What's wrong, Cap'n?" he asked innocently.
I looked at him, petrified. "Chip," I said seriously, "the wingtip is tingling."
Chip gasped. "Oh no!" he wailed. "The left one? That's the ultimate bad omen! What are we going to do?"
If I had had time to open my mouth, the sentence I would have chosen to answer that perfectly valid question would probably not have been "Well, Chip, I'm certainly glad you asked. As it happens, you are about to gaze in horror and surprise as I am washed overboard by a giant tsunami of a wave that will crash over the side of the ship without warning and will be flung unceremoniously into the slate-grey tempestuous sea." I might have said "I think we should have a tea party," or if I was feeling adventurous, "Probably a ship of famous actors pretending to be pirates will happen along and we'll put on some unnecessary eyepatches and exchange some piratical dialogue across the sides of our ships, based primarily off of the phrases 'scurvy knave' and 'arrgh'."
Unfortunately, I had no time to say any of these sentences. Chip only had time to gaze in horror and surprise as I was washed overboard by a giant tsunami of a wave that crashed over the ship without warning, flinging me unceremoniously into the slate-grey tempestuous sea. The Crusty Barnacle II bobbed at the top of my vision as I ducked under the surface of the water, the waves pounding me down, down, until I could no longer hope to swim to the ship for safety and simply let myself drift on, drifting to who knew where, drifting on to whatever life awaited me after the adventures of this one…
And all of a sudden, I felt something warm and somewhat grainy beneath my head. This struck me as perplexing for a few moments, before I realized that I could breathe again. This also was perplexing. Had I suddenly developed the ability to breathe underwater? Well, that would be most convenient. Captain Gulliver, Master of Land and Sea! It had an agreeable ring to it. If I ever made it back to civilization, they would make television specials about me for decades…
Then I realized that I was in fact lying on a beach. Above the water. Well, then. So much for the TV deals.
And that, my good lad, is where you came along. I, exhausted from my drifting about at sea, lapsed into unconsciousness right here on this very beach. My dreams carried me through exotic waters and far-off port towns, through battles with giant squid and dealings with seedy foreign merchants. In the forefront of all these dreams featured two faces: a grinning beaver and a wise, drawling aged turtle, smiling and saying repeatedly "It'll be all right, Cap'n."
I believe them now.
I am much indebted to you, my lad, for waking me up from this beach. If you hadn't happened along, who knows what manner of creatures would have happened across me? As you know from the tale I imparted to you, I am a hot commodity across these seas. Anything could have happened. I'm so happy I fell into hospitable hands. And now that you've received your payment through my riveting tale, I think I must go. Adventure calls, you know?
What do you mean, YOU WANTED SOMETHING TANGIBLE???
Oh dear. I really hoped it wouldn't have to come to this. I see your eyes as I look at the glorious Arc D'Triomphe, glittering enticingly in my hand. My precious baby, my Arc, I swore I would never leave you…
Ah! Promises are made to be broken, otherwise they would go unsaid. Take it! Take it quickly, before I change my mind! That hurts me, it hurts me deep down. Just take it from me and don't show it to me again.
But one thing I must see again. The wide expanse of the water before the mast, the sea breeze in my feathers, the thrill of adventure beating like my heartbeat beneath my plumage. The life of an adventurer is never truly finished. One chapter closes, and another opens its pages. But not all of them can be written down. Some adventures must be lived. Someone must explore the world for the rest, someone who is brave enough, daring enough, handsome enough to do what other men quake at the thought of doing.
And Gulliver, Champion of the Deep, is just such a someone.
You look up from your bartered prize, another question unsaid on your lips, begging for an answer. Your curiosity is killing you.
You'll have to look it up in the history books, my lad.
All that remains is a set of footprints in the wet sand on the beach.
Duuuudes! You never thought I'd actually finish it, did you? Oh, who am I kidding, you probably all abandoned me after chapter five when I started waiting seven or eight months between chapters. But like I said, I have this horrible aversion to leaving things up here and never finishing them, so even if this is just to satisfy my own OCD then it's been worth it. Also been worth it for my lovely reviewers, most notably The Murray for reviewing basically every chapter with promptness that put me to shame, and for once even putting their review in a song (Thanks, Murray, for making my night. It was awesome) Anyway, it's not like this was the Grammys of fanfiction, so I think i"ll leave it at that. Thanks to anyone who read this, my first attempt at an epic (epic meaning anything that's not a one-shot, in this context). Hope you had as much fun as I did. And I'll leave you all with this:
Farewell and adieu to ye, fair spanish ladies, farewell and adieu to ye, ladies from Spain!
Peace, love, and just enough spare time on a thursday night,
-RebelFaerie-
