It had been a terrible night for the Stormbrew. Glovern and his searats and cosairs had spend nearly the whole night bailing water out of the ship. The gale and rain had come all of a sudden; the skies had been blue and the searats had been commenting on good weather when the skies turned grey and the storm stuck. Normally Glovern and his searats didn't face much problems with storms and winds; but this one was different, almost like a hurricane. The Stormbrew had been tossed on the waves; some were thrown overboard. The ship had begun to leak badly, many of the ourslaves in the bottom deck had been drowned, chained to the benches, captive till their death.
Not all had died, though. A few survivors had somehow broken free from the chains which held them to slavery. One of them was a squirrel with dark red fur, fire burning in her eyes as she wrenched her rotten wood bench from the galley with a great roar. The other slaves were dumbfounded, and the stronger ones had tried to do the same. Many of the benches were countless seasons old, and the wood was old and nearly rotted through. The red squirrel held something small close to her chest; it was a tiny wicker basket.
Being at a remote corner of the deck and less noticeable, the red squirrel had hidden her babe in a small basket below her bench, covering the side with old planks. The red squirrel pulled the oar alone, and nobeast noticed the small basket under her bench which she took out when everyone was asleep to feed her hungry babe. The small infant was mostly good and slept most of the day; the babe hardly cried, except for once in a storm when it was too noisy to hear anyway, and another time when the whole deck had been asleep.
The young mother squirrel, hugging the basket, ascended the steps to the deck, her chains dangling in the water below. As the water rose higher, she heard the panic of the other slaves aboard the Stormbrew. A few had broken free and followed her, but most had not. The piteous cries of the remaining slaves halted the red squirrel. She hesitated for a brief moment. The squirrel glanced to her babe, then to the rising water level. As much as she loved her babe, she knew many more lives were at stake here. Opening the basket and giving the infant a kiss, she took a string from around her neck and put it around her babe. Dangling on it was a red stone with a tree carved onto it. She closed the basket and set it on the water. It floated. Good. she thought. "I'll come back for you later".she whispered. The water was now up to her waist as she gripped a nearby bench and pulled onto it. The ancient wood gave a little, and she motioned to a freed otter nearby to aid her. Together, otter and squirrel managed to pull to pieces the old plank and a mole and mouse swam away free.
The sea now came up to her chest. All around the decks she noticed more and more slaves getting freed from their bondage. During their slavery the oarslaves never spoke, yet in times of trouble it was amazing how they were together as one, helping each other. Perhaps it was because they were all slaves and knew how much freedom meant to them. Perhaps it was just kindness, or perhaps all the seasons of oar-pulling had silently brought all these creatures together. As she freed another pair of grateful oarslaves, she looked around for her babe on the surface. It had disappeared. The water was now nearly above her head. She stood on tiptoes, half treading water, searching for the wicker basket which held her babe.
At the same moment, a sickening crash was heard and the bottom deck of the boat disintegrated as the wood hit a rock. The red squirrel fell into the waves and knew no more.
--
Fifteen seasons had passed since the wreck of the Stormbrew. Still there were traces of the wreck that remained on the Northern shores; bits of wood, pieces of ragged sail, an occasional skeleton, reminiscent of how the great evil had once been destroyed.
However, the heart of this had not been wrecked like the ship, it fact, it was beating harder than ever. Glovern once had sixscore searats; now he was a captain of three huge ships, with six hundred murderous corsairs under his evil rule. His name was known throughout the northern seas. Glovern's seascum!
The name reverberated through the seas, and instilled fear in the hearts of those who heard his namesake. Glovern's seascum plundered and killed, robbed and murdered. His name now used to scare dibbuns.
"Sleep now, else Glovern's seascum'll getcha!"
"Don't you dare go off by your own! Wait till Glovern catches you!"
The mighty searat stood at the prow of his greatest ship, the Bloodslice. His ships were painted blue and red; blue for the seas he dominated, and red for the blood his seascum was capable of shedding. In the Bloodslice 's wake were two more smaller, but no less feared ships; the Waveculler and Wreckless.
Glovern spat at a nearby stoat. "Why's the ship goin' so slow, eh? Tell Stintra ter make tha lazy slaves work faster!" The unfortunate stoat saw that his captain was in an unpredictable mood, and backed away. "Ay…aye capt'n. I…I be going now…" and ran as fast as he could away from the murderous searat captain.
Stintra the slavedriver had dozed off under the afternoon heat of the bottom deck when a stoat ran down the stair to the deck.
"Stintra, yer lazychops! Geddup now! Capt'n sez ter make yon oarslaves ter row faster!"
The irate slavedriver, rudely interrupted, aimed a kick at the stoat. "Since when yer've taken over the capt'n's job, eh? Since when've yer scurvy stoat started orderin' me around, eh? I'll givyer a taste of my whip, howbout dat?" The unfortunate stoat, Darger, was chased back out to the top, panting heavily.
Stintra glanced round at the oarslaves. "Whatcher starin' at, eh? Pull, yer idle idjits! Yer heard wot yon capt'n sed. Work if yer wanter save yer hides!" he yelled, cracking his whip upon an unsuspecting slave's back.
--
In one of the other ships, the Wreckless, stood the ferret captain Ingria. The ship was so named to mean two things. Firstly the reckless nature of the corsairs aboard, and that it would not fall to wreck as the Stormbrew once had.
Ingria stood at the ships prow just like his captain Glovern, though he of much smaller build than his searat captain. The seascum was mostly searats, it was rare that a ferret, stoat or weasel had risen in ranks like himself. The former ferret officer was now captain over his own ship and fivescore searats. Seeing a searat approach from behind him, he barked out "What d'yer want now?"
The searat was surprised that Ingria had heard him coming and timidly reported "C…capt'n we doant've much water left sah… an' we be runnin' low on vittles too capt'n sah…"
"Don't capt'n sah me, rat! Go search fer land! We need ter replenish our supplies! Whatcha waitin' fer? Quickly go!"
After some time he felt chilled by the strong winds and retreated to his cabin which he shared with his mate, Damylle. The ferret was one of the few females in the entire crew, and acted as a healer on the Wreckless. The pretty, gentle healer was heavy with child. As she heard Ingria enter the room, she nagged gently. "You stop goin' up ter the deck, old ferret. Your babe's goin' ter be born soon, won't do fer you to risk getting' yourself killed. You'd better gettha' other healers on alert, too."
"Stop your babblin', old ferret yerself." Ingria muttered back. Damylle saw that her mate was in a foul mood and steered clear from the ferret captain and busied herself with tidying the messy cabin. Ingria slumped in his exclusive bed in the corner. "Supplies runnin' low eh? Hmph. Wonder if capt'n Glov'n will let us make fer land to git more vittles." He spat on the floor in contempt.
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What do you think of it so far? This one's a lot longer than the previous chapters. What do you think of the beginning part, on the red squirrel? Can you guess who that is? Its pretty obvious I suppose. Please review! I really hope to get at least 5 reviews this time, compared to 4 the last chapter.(: