Avast Ye!
Chapter 3
By. . . The same person who wrote the other chapters, duh.
Summary: Richie and the crew try to understand what the hell Sam's new- found pal, Jim, is trying to sell them.
Dedication: To. . . CLOGSY! Because she rules!
***
Sam and Jim ambled along the cobbled street. It was getting late, and Sam knew it could only be a matter of time before Richie and his crew were thrown forcibly out of town. Gul trotted along at his ankles, occasionally garbling utter nonsense along the lines of "Pieces of arr Jimlad!" or "Yo ho ho and a bottle of scurvy seadog!"
"Don't forget I'm trusting you here," said Sam casually.
"I know," said Jim. "I need this."
"My best bud cleans his teeth with a cutlass," said Sam, nodding at a passer-by. "You don't want to even think about swindling him."
"So you said." Jim's eyes widened slightly as Gul ran onto his shoulder. "Um, is this thing dangerous?"
They stopped by the dock and sat on a wall to await Richie and his crew. Gul did a little dance on Jim's shoulder.
"Oh yeah!" said Sam. "It'll tear your throat right out. Gul's vicious as a . . . very vicious thing! You should see its teeth. Huge great gnashing teeth!" Sam gnashed his teeth accordingly. Jim snorted. "And that's nothing compared to its claws!" Sam added. "More like talons, I'd say. They'd rip your heart right out!"
"I found a penny," said Gul proudly, holding it up to show Jim.
"I can see just how dangerous this thing is," said Jim, rolling his eyes. Gul beamed at him and ate one of his shirt buttons.
Sam sighed and leaned backwards. He was rather enjoying being on dry land for once. For the first time in years he didn't feel seasick. Jim wasn't the most stimulating of company, but he hadn't run screaming from Gul yet. Whether he would run screaming from Richie was another matter. A small smile crept over Sam's face. That was the ultimate test of character; trying to negotiate a business deal with the world's most clueless pirate.
"How many bars are there in this town?" Sam asked, after a while.
"Four," said Jim. "There were seven once, but they keep getting burned down by marauding seamen."
Sam sniffed the air. "I think you're down to three."
Jim sniffed also. "I think when your friends get back, we should get out of here pretty quickly. . ."
There was the sound of thundering footsteps. Sam leaped to his feet and scampered up the gangplank of the Chandon. Jim trotted along after him.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
"Nothing whatsoever," said Sam. He had watched the sailors in action and knew exactly how to get the ship ready for quick flight. Had you asked him, however, he could never have explained it all to you. There's something about all the ropes, pulleys and more ropes which make up the workings of a galleon which never fail to defy words. Jim watched with fascination, Gul still perched on his shoulder, now nibbling happily at what appeared to be a cobblestone.
"Amazing," said Jim, when Sam had finished tweaking ropes and had alighted down from the rigging. "You make that look so unbelievably complicated."
"Shut up," said Sam, "and grab hold of something."
"Why?"
"There's a strong tide round here. D'you want to end up in the sea?"
Richie came trotting up the gangplank and grinned happily at Sam. "Y'know, I weren't expecting this to be that much fun." He beamed at the others, who were just behind him. "Right, guys?"
Peters brushed some soot from his shoulder. "Yeah, Rich. Great fun. Let's get this tub out of here, eh?"
Brackish had, meanwhile, caught sight of Jim. The big bosun advanced on him, glaring. "Who're you?" he grunted.
Richie turned round too. He was still wearing a huge grin, which froze when he saw the stranger standing in the middle of his ship.
"This is Jim," said Sam, as his newfound friend shied away from Rich. "He's the answer to your problem."
"Wha' problem?" said Rich, as Gul bounced onto his shoulder. "We haven't got any problems."
"About all that money you've got."
Richie snorted, advancing on Jim, who did his best to stand his ground. "Ye've not been to sea before, have yeh?" he grunted.
"Yes, I have," said Jim.
"Okay, yeh've never been to sea without throwin' up an' cryin' like a baby, have ye?"
"Um, no."
Rich turned to Sam. "What've I told yeh about bringing yer poofly little friends on my ship? He's got a spine made of. . ." Richie's brow furrowed as he pushed his way through complex linguistic territory. "something weak an' wobbly, I tell yeh!"
"Jelly?" Sam suggested weakly.
"Yeh, right!" Richie glared at Jim again. "Get outta here!"
"No, just wait," said Sam calmly. "Listen to his offer. It's pretty good. And you won't have a single penny left over afterwards."
Richie scowled again. His head was beginning to hurt. He stared at Sam for a moment. Arguing with Sam was almost impossible. Hitting Sam was impossible too, because Richie always went away with the feeling that he'd hit a girl and that was immoral. And besides, whenever he couldn't get his own way, Sam resorted to the puppy-dog eyes and patented lower-lip wobble. It was amazing the power a small, skinny person with fluffy blond hair could have over a seven-foot tall cutlass-wielding, strong-as-a-bull pirate. Especially when he whimpered in that sickeningly pathetic way which Sam had perfected over the years.
"Saaaaaam!" Richie's face fell as he realised he'd lost for now. "Alright, we'll hear 'im out."
Jim failed to look relieved. In fact, he looked more terrified than before. Sam patted him on the shoulder again, as they wandered down to the galley. Sam didn't like being on deck when they were heading for open sea. The sea- sickness was a more or less permanent thing, but it helped if he couldn't see the rocking waves and the wheeling seagulls. There was something comforting about the ship's kitchen and its occupants which helped ease his stomach.
"Don't worry. This deal will go through, I'll see to it," he said to Jim. "Once they've stashed all their cash, they might think about settling down on dry land. I want this as much as you do."
Jim snorted. They were sitting at one of the long tables in the galley, at the opposite end from a couple of genuine cabin boys and the ship's cook. Sam had found some food and made a vague attempt at cooking it.
"You have no idea," Jim sighed. "Y'know what this business is? This business is just a handy place to stash failed bankers."
"How come you failed?"
"I, er, had a few bad habits. . . Nothing serious." Jim cleared his throat nervously and fiddled with his tie. "I really ought to explain things a bit better. . ."
"Save it for the pirates," sighed Sam. "It's nothing to do with me."
"How'd you end up here?"
"A series of unfortunate events. Richie and I look out for each other. Well, he thinks I need someone to keep me out of trouble, and he needs someone to translate his counting method. I'd rather have my feet on the ground, but . . ." he shrugged. "You get used to these guys. I'd be lost if I just left."
"How much cash have they got?" asked Jim.
"Is that all you think about?"
"Pretty much."
Sam rolled his eyes. "A couple of million, I think," he admitted quietly. "They don't understand just how much that is, of course. They just loot and loot and stash it all in stupid great trunks." He gestured at the door into the next room. "It's all in there. You wouldn't believe it if you saw it. . ." He stopped. He'd caught sight of something flicker in Jim's eye, just for a second. He decided to say nothing else about the money, and searched for an alternative topic.
"D'you like pie?"
***
"Righ'. . ." said Richie after the proposal had been explained to him. "All tha' happens is, the treasure all gets buried on some sandy old island somewhere?"
"Yep," said Jim.
"An' then. . .we gets a map. . .An'. . . Our descendents get to dig up the treasure an' . . . then wha'?"
"Well, over the years, interest builds up," said Jim.
"You mean," said Brackish, making a sincere effort, "that if we burries, or lends ye, a given amount of gold doubloons, then after a set period of time, the amount of doubloons will have increased by a set percentage in accordance with inflation -"
"Nah," said Jim, "I mean every damn bugger will want to go and dig it up."
"Oh."
"Wha's so great about tha'?" grunted Richie.
"No idea, but the punters seem to love it. Or they did. . ."
The pirates went into a huddle to talk about it. Jim sat back in his chair and prayed. One deal, just one deal, and he was home and dry.
The pirates finished their discussion, having decided that it was Peters' turn to cook dinner.
"Ok," said Rich. "We've got a deal." He shook Jim's hand.
"Ow!" said Jim.
***
Night fell. The sea lay still and silent. Two figures lounged on deck, gazing upwards at the clear sky.
"Sam?"
Sam blinked at the unfamiliar sound of his own name. "Yus, Rich?"
"What're stars made of?"
"Um. . .those plastic bits at the ends of shoelaces."
"Oh."
"Probably"
"Ah"
"Well. . . It would be funny if they were. . . " Sam shrugged.
"Sam?"
"Yus, Rich?"
"D'you trust tha' Jim guy?"
"I think so."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I think so, Rich."
There was silence for a moment. Then. . .
"Sam?"
"Yus, Rich?"
"Y'see that group of stars over there?" Richie pointed upwards.
"What about them?"
"Well. . . If you really squint at them. . . I mean really squint . . . Then they look just like a man being eaten by a rabbit."
Sam squinted. "You know," he said, "I believe you're right."
***
To Be Continued. . . ?
Chapter 3
By. . . The same person who wrote the other chapters, duh.
Summary: Richie and the crew try to understand what the hell Sam's new- found pal, Jim, is trying to sell them.
Dedication: To. . . CLOGSY! Because she rules!
***
Sam and Jim ambled along the cobbled street. It was getting late, and Sam knew it could only be a matter of time before Richie and his crew were thrown forcibly out of town. Gul trotted along at his ankles, occasionally garbling utter nonsense along the lines of "Pieces of arr Jimlad!" or "Yo ho ho and a bottle of scurvy seadog!"
"Don't forget I'm trusting you here," said Sam casually.
"I know," said Jim. "I need this."
"My best bud cleans his teeth with a cutlass," said Sam, nodding at a passer-by. "You don't want to even think about swindling him."
"So you said." Jim's eyes widened slightly as Gul ran onto his shoulder. "Um, is this thing dangerous?"
They stopped by the dock and sat on a wall to await Richie and his crew. Gul did a little dance on Jim's shoulder.
"Oh yeah!" said Sam. "It'll tear your throat right out. Gul's vicious as a . . . very vicious thing! You should see its teeth. Huge great gnashing teeth!" Sam gnashed his teeth accordingly. Jim snorted. "And that's nothing compared to its claws!" Sam added. "More like talons, I'd say. They'd rip your heart right out!"
"I found a penny," said Gul proudly, holding it up to show Jim.
"I can see just how dangerous this thing is," said Jim, rolling his eyes. Gul beamed at him and ate one of his shirt buttons.
Sam sighed and leaned backwards. He was rather enjoying being on dry land for once. For the first time in years he didn't feel seasick. Jim wasn't the most stimulating of company, but he hadn't run screaming from Gul yet. Whether he would run screaming from Richie was another matter. A small smile crept over Sam's face. That was the ultimate test of character; trying to negotiate a business deal with the world's most clueless pirate.
"How many bars are there in this town?" Sam asked, after a while.
"Four," said Jim. "There were seven once, but they keep getting burned down by marauding seamen."
Sam sniffed the air. "I think you're down to three."
Jim sniffed also. "I think when your friends get back, we should get out of here pretty quickly. . ."
There was the sound of thundering footsteps. Sam leaped to his feet and scampered up the gangplank of the Chandon. Jim trotted along after him.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
"Nothing whatsoever," said Sam. He had watched the sailors in action and knew exactly how to get the ship ready for quick flight. Had you asked him, however, he could never have explained it all to you. There's something about all the ropes, pulleys and more ropes which make up the workings of a galleon which never fail to defy words. Jim watched with fascination, Gul still perched on his shoulder, now nibbling happily at what appeared to be a cobblestone.
"Amazing," said Jim, when Sam had finished tweaking ropes and had alighted down from the rigging. "You make that look so unbelievably complicated."
"Shut up," said Sam, "and grab hold of something."
"Why?"
"There's a strong tide round here. D'you want to end up in the sea?"
Richie came trotting up the gangplank and grinned happily at Sam. "Y'know, I weren't expecting this to be that much fun." He beamed at the others, who were just behind him. "Right, guys?"
Peters brushed some soot from his shoulder. "Yeah, Rich. Great fun. Let's get this tub out of here, eh?"
Brackish had, meanwhile, caught sight of Jim. The big bosun advanced on him, glaring. "Who're you?" he grunted.
Richie turned round too. He was still wearing a huge grin, which froze when he saw the stranger standing in the middle of his ship.
"This is Jim," said Sam, as his newfound friend shied away from Rich. "He's the answer to your problem."
"Wha' problem?" said Rich, as Gul bounced onto his shoulder. "We haven't got any problems."
"About all that money you've got."
Richie snorted, advancing on Jim, who did his best to stand his ground. "Ye've not been to sea before, have yeh?" he grunted.
"Yes, I have," said Jim.
"Okay, yeh've never been to sea without throwin' up an' cryin' like a baby, have ye?"
"Um, no."
Rich turned to Sam. "What've I told yeh about bringing yer poofly little friends on my ship? He's got a spine made of. . ." Richie's brow furrowed as he pushed his way through complex linguistic territory. "something weak an' wobbly, I tell yeh!"
"Jelly?" Sam suggested weakly.
"Yeh, right!" Richie glared at Jim again. "Get outta here!"
"No, just wait," said Sam calmly. "Listen to his offer. It's pretty good. And you won't have a single penny left over afterwards."
Richie scowled again. His head was beginning to hurt. He stared at Sam for a moment. Arguing with Sam was almost impossible. Hitting Sam was impossible too, because Richie always went away with the feeling that he'd hit a girl and that was immoral. And besides, whenever he couldn't get his own way, Sam resorted to the puppy-dog eyes and patented lower-lip wobble. It was amazing the power a small, skinny person with fluffy blond hair could have over a seven-foot tall cutlass-wielding, strong-as-a-bull pirate. Especially when he whimpered in that sickeningly pathetic way which Sam had perfected over the years.
"Saaaaaam!" Richie's face fell as he realised he'd lost for now. "Alright, we'll hear 'im out."
Jim failed to look relieved. In fact, he looked more terrified than before. Sam patted him on the shoulder again, as they wandered down to the galley. Sam didn't like being on deck when they were heading for open sea. The sea- sickness was a more or less permanent thing, but it helped if he couldn't see the rocking waves and the wheeling seagulls. There was something comforting about the ship's kitchen and its occupants which helped ease his stomach.
"Don't worry. This deal will go through, I'll see to it," he said to Jim. "Once they've stashed all their cash, they might think about settling down on dry land. I want this as much as you do."
Jim snorted. They were sitting at one of the long tables in the galley, at the opposite end from a couple of genuine cabin boys and the ship's cook. Sam had found some food and made a vague attempt at cooking it.
"You have no idea," Jim sighed. "Y'know what this business is? This business is just a handy place to stash failed bankers."
"How come you failed?"
"I, er, had a few bad habits. . . Nothing serious." Jim cleared his throat nervously and fiddled with his tie. "I really ought to explain things a bit better. . ."
"Save it for the pirates," sighed Sam. "It's nothing to do with me."
"How'd you end up here?"
"A series of unfortunate events. Richie and I look out for each other. Well, he thinks I need someone to keep me out of trouble, and he needs someone to translate his counting method. I'd rather have my feet on the ground, but . . ." he shrugged. "You get used to these guys. I'd be lost if I just left."
"How much cash have they got?" asked Jim.
"Is that all you think about?"
"Pretty much."
Sam rolled his eyes. "A couple of million, I think," he admitted quietly. "They don't understand just how much that is, of course. They just loot and loot and stash it all in stupid great trunks." He gestured at the door into the next room. "It's all in there. You wouldn't believe it if you saw it. . ." He stopped. He'd caught sight of something flicker in Jim's eye, just for a second. He decided to say nothing else about the money, and searched for an alternative topic.
"D'you like pie?"
***
"Righ'. . ." said Richie after the proposal had been explained to him. "All tha' happens is, the treasure all gets buried on some sandy old island somewhere?"
"Yep," said Jim.
"An' then. . .we gets a map. . .An'. . . Our descendents get to dig up the treasure an' . . . then wha'?"
"Well, over the years, interest builds up," said Jim.
"You mean," said Brackish, making a sincere effort, "that if we burries, or lends ye, a given amount of gold doubloons, then after a set period of time, the amount of doubloons will have increased by a set percentage in accordance with inflation -"
"Nah," said Jim, "I mean every damn bugger will want to go and dig it up."
"Oh."
"Wha's so great about tha'?" grunted Richie.
"No idea, but the punters seem to love it. Or they did. . ."
The pirates went into a huddle to talk about it. Jim sat back in his chair and prayed. One deal, just one deal, and he was home and dry.
The pirates finished their discussion, having decided that it was Peters' turn to cook dinner.
"Ok," said Rich. "We've got a deal." He shook Jim's hand.
"Ow!" said Jim.
***
Night fell. The sea lay still and silent. Two figures lounged on deck, gazing upwards at the clear sky.
"Sam?"
Sam blinked at the unfamiliar sound of his own name. "Yus, Rich?"
"What're stars made of?"
"Um. . .those plastic bits at the ends of shoelaces."
"Oh."
"Probably"
"Ah"
"Well. . . It would be funny if they were. . . " Sam shrugged.
"Sam?"
"Yus, Rich?"
"D'you trust tha' Jim guy?"
"I think so."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I think so, Rich."
There was silence for a moment. Then. . .
"Sam?"
"Yus, Rich?"
"Y'see that group of stars over there?" Richie pointed upwards.
"What about them?"
"Well. . . If you really squint at them. . . I mean really squint . . . Then they look just like a man being eaten by a rabbit."
Sam squinted. "You know," he said, "I believe you're right."
***
To Be Continued. . . ?