Pirating Material
Chapter 2
By Starath
Author's Note: Since this has come up, I'd like to say that I'm aware Captain Karnage's first name isn't "Don. "Don" sounded best for the flow of narration, despite it being his title. I listen to ya'll when you talk to me. ;) Thanks for reading, and strap in folks, here we go again!
The persistent creaking and groaning of metal plating woke her up a few hours later. Magdalen stared at the ceiling dotted by rivets, wondering how they got there. This wasn't her room. It smelled faintly of salt and iron. She shivered and pulled the coarse blanket over her shoulders. Her mind slowly flitted through her most recent memories. Terror jerked her upright. Kidnapped—!
The sudden movement proved to be too much for her queasy stomach. She pulled her knees up to her chest and moaned, waiting for dizziness to pass. Her eyes focused on the nearest stable object: A writing desk. She had to ignore the lantern swinging gently from an overhead beam. Her forehead crinkled into a frown. This didn't appear to be a prison cell, although there wasn't much here to look at. Wait; there was a cup of water too!
Magdalen got up to reach for it and banged her foot into a metal bucket next to the bed. She gargled the water and spat it out into the bucket. She spotted her backpack on top of the desk. How thoughtful. What was she supposed to do here? That stupid Don Karnage, how dare he do this to her! Her family and friends must be worried sick! Anger squelched any feeling of illness and she eyed the door. Maybe she could escape, or at the very least give Karnage a piece of her mind.
She eased the door open, cringing when it screeched on rusty hinges. She searched the corridor to her right and left. Empty. Perfect. She carefully closed the door, mindful of the hinges, and strode off to her left.
A raspy voice whispered in her ear. "The Captain wants to see you."
"EEK!" Magdalen cleared the floor by several inches. Her tail puffed out to twice its size at the same time. Spinning around, she came face-to-face with a short grey canine wearing a cap and ratty jacket.
"Don't DO that!"
Sometimes Gibber forgot that not everyone was used to him speaking. That was fine by him, though. He had her attention and motioned for her to follow him. She didn't move.
"Where are you taking me? Who are you?"
Gibber ignored the questions. He'd already told her where they were going if she had been listening to what he said. He paused and impatiently waved for her to come. If she was going to be difficult, he'd just go get one of the bigger pirates. Luckily for her, she trotted after him without any further comments.
He had to stop to allow her time for catching up with him. She had to look at everything, as if she had stepped into a new world. Gibber chuckled to himself. To him the Iron Vulture was home, so perhaps to her, this was another world. Hopefully the Captain's plan would work out, and he'd get a real part in her radio show? The thought added a bounce in his step as he led her to the Iron Vulture's Command Bridge. There he found Don Karnage in his chair, writing in his diary. Gibber tapped the Captain on the shoulder and muttered into his ear. Don snapped his diary shut and hurriedly straightened his uniform.
"Very good! Show her in, please."
Gibber did and left, leaving the door cracked open so he and other pirates could overhear the conversation.
Don arose from his chair with fluid movements meant to give himself the most poise and authority possible. He spread his hands wide in greeting.
"Welcome to the Iron Vulture, Miss Briar. It truly is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Her reply came back quick and sharp. "Stick it in your ear, you scummy pirate!"
He sighed in exasperation. Why did they always have to do this?
His pause gave Magdalen more than enough time to begin her rant. "Just what are you thinking, kidnapping me? What did I ever do to you? I have nothing of value and I am not useful to you or your crew. Until today I hadn't even been in a plane before!" She gasped for a breath and added, "Sorry about your shoes."
"It happens more often than you think." He waved the apology aside. "Are you through?"
"No, I am NOT through! Today was supposed to be perfect! My first time out with the radio station to meet everyone who liked my show! And you ROBBED them! I guess all those stories I heard about you were true, you're just a two-bit, crooked, arrogant, opportunistic scavenger! Now what do you want with me, Karnage? What did I do to deserve this?"
He idly picked at a chipped claw. "Now that you'll let me speak, I shall tell you." He circled her twice and stopped in front of her.
"Go right on ahead, I'm listening." She huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "And your breath stinks, too."
Don's muzzle wrinkled and his teeth appeared, but he held onto his temper with admirable restraint. "As for what you have done, Miss Briar, need I mention your wonderfully popular radio show that makes a mockery out of piracy and pirates, namely me?" He growled out the last word.
Magdalen shrank back. "Oh."
"I tolerate many things. I tolerate the Shore Patrol, idiocy among my crew, and even those little irritating itches you cannot reach on that one part of your back. I hate those! But what I cannot tolerate is ridicule that insults my honor and reputation as a pirate!"
"Honor? Hah!"
This time he did show his teeth and snarled. "One of your first lessons shall be not to laugh at that word."
"Lessons?"
"You shall learn what it means to be a pirate, and write a script that I approve."
"What?" The sharpness of her shriek hurt his ears. "Now, wait a minute, you can't be taking those shows this seriously. They're comedy! They're supposed to be funny. Besides, I did my research on you and listened to tons of stories. I think I portray you rather accurately."
"I may be eccentric sometimes, but I am nobody's joke, as you will soon learn. The first thing to do, of course, is to lay down some rules."
"You can take your rules and shove them in—"
"FIRST of all," Don cut her off with a flick of his hand, "since you have quite the noisy mouth, for every insult you give me, you shall stay one more day. This will start…. counting ten minutes ago."
Magdalen's eyes bugged out. She opened her mouth and closed it several times without making a sound. Eventually she let out a strangled, "What?"
"Now, let us see…" Don counted on his fingers and held the result up. "Lookity look! You added a whole week in less than five minutes!"
"You can't DO that!" Magdalen shouted. "You're such a—a—!"
When she didn't finish, he prompted. "A…?"
She clamped her jaw shut and spoke around gritted teeth. "You're a scoundrel."
"I am a pirate. Lucky for you, it is the same thing."
"How long do you intend to keep me here?"
"As long as I intend to."
"You—!"
"Ah ah ah!" Don wagged a finger under her nose. Much to his satisfaction, she went quiet and glared at him. Her tail swished noisily, making her anger plain without needing any words. He began pacing.
"Second of all, you shall address me as Captain Don Karnage, Captain Karnage, Captain, the Dread Pirate Karnage… you get my driftwood, yes-no?"
After her nod, he went on. "Being that I am a gentleman of fortune, you will be treated well so long as you treat myself and my crew well. You are here to experience the life of a real pirate and write about it, as I said, in your silly little scripts. I will see to it that any faulty notions you have now will be corrected."
"But, I can't just write on command. It's a process. I do a lot of observing and thinking first. Then maybe I can write. It doesn't happen all at once, like robbing a ship."
"The correct phrase is 'to plunder'. Make note of that. And I know of the point on your head. You have been provided with private quarters, and my men will not disturb you while you are there, although they may be tempted."
By now Magdalen's fiery resentment had been doused. She rolled her eyes and stared at the floor, her tone betraying fear. "Yeah, if you don't kill me in my sleep."
Don halted and frowned. "I would not harm a lady if I did not have to, and nor would my crew, unless ordered otherwise."
She glanced up at him, trying to decide how much truth lay in his words. Don broke off the silence first and strolled to the door. As he predicted, there was a flurry of panicked movement from outside as the eavesdroppers fled.
"Do not look the gift horse in the ear, Miss Briar. Come, I shall take you to your first lesson."
Magdalen sighed. So there wasn't any way out of this. Yet. She approached him warily and rested her hand on his proffered arm. "You truly are a generous saint, Captain Karnage."
He chuckled. "I am, am I not?"
What Magdalen saw a few minutes later made her want to call him anything but a saint. She peered through the steam and smoke clouds wafting around the cluttered room, trying to make sense of the chaos. At least four pots bubbled away on a stove that might have been white at one time, but was now permanently brown. One of them piped smoke into the air. An oven gave off heat she could feel from where she stood. Overhead, nets had been tacked onto the wall, filled to capacity with dripping, filthy dishes. Anything that was not immediately in use was bolted to the counters or tied down. She moved to step back, only to find one of her paws stuck to the floor. She pulled it off and felt her stomach perform a flip-flop. Her paw had left an imprint on the floor's grime.
"Oh Slopjaw, my creative culinary compadre, I have brought you a new assistant!" Don yelled above the ruckus of the Iron Vulture's galley.
Magdalen gasped in fright when the big mass in the corner turned around. She thought it— he— had been a sack of potatoes leaning against the counter. The glower on the huge canine's face made her want to run for cover. His smock was stained in more shades of brown than she knew existed, and its size could have easily enveloped her several times.
"Is she actually worth my time?" He asked.
"Yes, of course!" Don grinned. "This is Magdalen Briar, our guest. Miss Briar, meet our ship's cook, Slopjaw."
Slopjaw's eyes widened a bit. He lifted a paw, realized how dirty it was, and spit into his palm. He rubbed it dry on his apron and offered it for a handshake. "Nice t' meetcha."
Magdalen cringed and tucked her hands behind her back. She bobbed a curtsy instead. "Er, likewise."
"Miss Briar is here to learn all about being a pirate, as you may have heard. I trust you can educate her about your galley?"
"Ah… yeah. You scrub dishes?" Slopjaw asked her.
"Yes…"
He pointed to the row of pegs beside the ice chest. "Grab an apron and a stool. Get to work."
She paled. "But—"
"Now now now!" Don patted her shoulder none too gently, and shoved her forward. "Don't be shy." To the cook he added, "You can keep her as long as you like."
"But Captain!" She slid across the grease-covered tile and snagged the ice chest's door before she fell. "This isn't—"
"Enjoy your lesson!" Don turned on his heel and snapped the double doors shut.
"What is THIS supposed to teach me, huh? Answer me, you pompous jerk!"
"You will find out, and that's one more day for you, by the way!"
"ARGH!" Magdalen punched the wall and sagged down in exasperation.
"Hoi, gurl, get moving. The dinner rush will start soon. All those dishes have to get done." Slopjaw motioned to the nets hanging over the sink.
"…All of them?"
"Yeh, all of them."
Long before she was finished, Magdalen learned to hate soapy water, dirty dishes and soaked paws. Slopjaw made little conversation, except to tell her to scrub faster and to yell for his assistant, Myles. The scrappy mutt who appeared with a trolley moved so fast through the galley, he was more like a tan blur. He unloaded used dishes and cutlery into the nets above Magdalen and retrieved new steaming plates of food for the pirate's mess hall. Myles stopped long enough to introduce himself.
"Hi!" His smile had more holes than teeth, which gave him a whistle to his voice. "I heard that you arrived today. I'm Myles, and I really like your show! We listen to it all the time!"
"You do?" She blinked, surprised.
"Oh yes. Practically everyone on the airship does. We love it. Except for the Captain, I guess, but I guess that worked out for us, because here you are!"
"Oh…. well, thank you."
"You're welcome! If there's anything you need, you just ask!"
"Hoi, Myles, this grub ain't gonna deliver itself!" Slopjaw shook a butcher knife threateningly.
"I'm on my way, Boss! Nyyeeearooom!" Myles bustled out with his rattling trolley, making firing-gun noises to go with his airplane sound effects.
Magdalen wiped a gob of bubbles out of her hair and laughed. Slopjaw grunted.
"Good kid. Wants to fly his own plane someday with Captain Karnage, but 'e's too young yet. Stuck with me 'til then."
"He's sweet." She set the newest batch of clean plates aside. "Mind if I ask some questions?"
Slopjaw returned to hovering over his pots. "Shoot."
"What are these nets for?"
"In case tha airship rolls too steep. Dishes would hit the floor otherwise. Tha's why everything's gotta be nailed down."
"What do you do if the Iron Vulture does that while you're cooking?"
"I hope I ain't cookin' right then."
Magdalen thought about this. "Is it hard to cook for a whole crew?"
"Sortta." He sipped a spoonful of gravy and smacked his lips noisily. He bumped his head with the spoon. "Gotta keep track o' what I got, what I don't got, and what I got ta get more of."
"How do you get what you need?"
"We trades for things, mostly. If Captain Karnage done us right by plunder, sometimes I gets special things, like tha fresh batch of vanilla beans I got last week."
"What's that for?"
"His Captain's birthday."
The mug she was cleaning nearly slipped out of her hands. "Don Karnage has a birthday?"
"O' course he does." Slopjaw's dry voice held amusement for the first time, and he waved his spoon at her. "Now, enough questions, Miss, those dishes ain't gonna clean theyselves."
The dinner rush ended after 9 PM. Tired, sore, and thoroughly soaked, Magdalen managed to stay awake long enough to eat something before leaving the galley. She promised Slopjaw she'd do dishes tomorrow. Most of the pirates aboard the Iron Vulture conveniently forgot their kitchen duty, and she could tell Slopjaw was grateful for her offer to help out. He even agreed to let her try cooking a few new things, just to see what she would come up with.
As exhausted as she was, Magdalen didn't realize Dumptruck and Mad Dog were waiting for her in the hall until she nearly ran in to them. She instantly recognized the pair, since they had taken part in the raid of the Melody Belle. Renewed energy coursed through her mind as she wondered whether she could borrow one of Slopjaw's heavy wooden spoons to beat them with.
"Uh… hello," She said, stopping a few feet away.
"Hello there!" said Dumptruck. They were both grinning. This was a good thing, right?
"Is there something I can do for you?"
Mad Dog shifted from foot to foot, hiding something behind his back. "I'm Mad Dog an' this is Dumptruck. Can…. can we get your autograph?"
"My what? Oh. Um…"
"And maybe, you can tell us a story tonight?" asked Dumptruck hopefully.
"A story?"
"Y-yah, like on der radio!"
"Oh. Um, I'd love to guys, but not tonight. It's been a really, really long day."
Both pirates tilted their heads in question and finally realized how tired she looked.
"That's no problem! Maybe tomorrow night?" asked Mad Dog.
"I don't know, to be honest, because I don't know what your Captain will have me doing." They looked so dejected she added, "If I have free time, would you two be willing to teach me about your planes or something?"
They instantly brightened at the idea. "Sure!" said Mad Dog.
"Okay, we'll do that then. But if you'll excuse me, I really need to go sleep. Although…" She looked down the corridor both ways and sighed. "Everything looks the same to me. Can you help me back to my quarters?"
"Of course we can! Let's go." said Mad Dog, starting off at a pace Magdalen could hardly keep up with. "Oh, when I heard the Cap'n say he wanted to meet you, I was SO excited!"
"You were?"
"Yah! We luff your show!" said Dumptruck. "Course, der Captain didn't at first, until he said he needed to change your un-in-formed opinion."
"So he told you that you had to be nice to me?"
"Why wouldn't we be nice to you?" Mad Dog countered. "We're not bad guys all the time."
"Except when you rob… plunder people."
He shrugged. "That's how we make a living."
Mad Dog's words stayed with her long after she had returned to her quarters. Although she could barely keep her eyes open, Magdalen found her notebook in the bottom of her backpack. Digging out a pencil, she wrote the quote and a few notes to herself. She could fill in the rest tomorrow. She collapsed into bed and grabbed the blanket. She fell asleep before her mind registered touching the pillow.
There were pleasant ways to be awakened, and jolting up at the banging on her door was not one of them. A jovial, accented voice rang out from the other side.
"Hallo, hallo! Good morning Miss Briar! Ready for your next lesson in pirateness?"
"Go away!" She yelled back. "I just got to sleep!"
"Tsk tsk my dear, there is daylight in the swamp! Time to get up!"
"I don't care! It can't be morning yet!" Magdalen rolled over and covered her head with the pillow. Despite the barrier, she could still hear Don Karnage.
"I am going to be counting to ten. For every number after that, I will be adding one more day to your stay…"
Magdalen scrambled out of bed.
"One..."
She dragged her pillow with her.
"Two…"
She threw the door open, red-eyed and puffing. Don didn't get to count to three. She walloped him with her pillow, hard.
"Shut up, SHUT UP! Are you in love with your own voice? You have your rules, here's mine: DO NOT DISTURB the woman trying to sleep!"
She slammed the door closed and climbed back into bed. Don spat out a mouthful of feathers.
"Just for that, I will be adding three days!"
"FINE!"
He sneezed and felt an irksome feather wiggling in his ear. He pulled it out, muttering as he walked away.
"Ungrateful female-type person, hitting me with the pillow stuffing and such…. What did I do?"
When Magdalen finally did awaken for the day, it was almost noon. She didn't remember the encounter she had with the pirate Captain until she met him on her way to the galley, where he informed her of a different task she would be assigned to do that day. He cheerfully led her to the laundry room.
"Nobody wants this job," he had said, motioning to the heaps of stinking, grubby clothes. "Guess why."
By the time Magdalen made it back to the galley, she looked forward to sinking her paws into hot, soapy water. She bolted down what food was left over from lunch and set to work.
Not surprisingly, Magdalen didn't receive a wake-up call the following morning. She spent a few hours compiling her observations and experiences of the last two days, and then went to the galley, expecting to do more dishes.
"You don't need ta be gettin' yer paws wet today, Miss." said Slopjaw, and pointed to a miserable pirate standing in front of the sink. "I have a dishwasher today. Myles caught 'im trying to leave the mess hall."
"Oh…" Magdalen put her apron back on its peg. "Do you need help cooking anything?"
"Nah, I got it covered." He tapped his chin. "But tell ya what, Captain Karnage's birthday is tomorrow. You can help me later with the dinner menu if you like."
"Sure, I can do that."
"Bless yer h'art. Oh, ah, Mad Dog and 'is friend was askin' for you earlier. They said you can meet them in the hanger."
"Okay, thanks."
Finding her way to the Iron Vulture's main hanger was one of the easier things she had to do lately. She paused at the top deck railing, taking in the view of the huge space. What she'd seen of the airship so far made her think it was cramped and packed tight, but here it was mostly empty and hollow. She counted eighteen planes on the hanger floor. It could have easily fit at least a dozen more, by her estimate. The pirates could play baseball in here and never hit anything. She examined the gears surrounding the airship's beak, wondering at the hydraulics system that powered it. And how did the bomb-bay doors work? Maybe she could meet a mechanic and ask him about it.
"Ahoy there!"
Magdalen spotted Mad Dog waving at her. His plane had been pulled out of the row next to Dumptruck's plane. She could see toolboxes scattered around them.
"Hi!" She waved back, and circled the top deck to reach the stairs. Crossing the hanger floor felt like walking over a football field. Dumptruck and Mad Dog patiently waited for her, grinning. Magdalen gasped to catch her breath.
"This place is impressive!"
"Sure is. The Cap'n's got the best airship around," boasted Mad Dog.
"He's got der only airship around." said Dumptruck. "Are you ready to learn about air-o-planes?"
"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."
"Okay. Er-hem-hem," Dumptruck cleared his throat and turned to his blue plane. "Now, as you know, airplanes are for flying vit'—"
"Ah, I wanna tell her this part!" whined Mad Dog.
"You get to talk about the engine, remember?"
The skinny pirate sulked. "Alright, but don't take too long."
"A-hem. As I vas saying, vot we haff here is a CT-37 fighter plane. It goes real fast and turns good, but only the best pilots can handle it. Not effryone gets to have a plane here."
Magdalen noticed how both pirates puffed their chests out at this. "Where did the planes come from?"
"The same place the Iron Vulture came from." He and Mad Dog shared an evil chuckle. "But mostly we haff to put together our own from spare planes and wreckages."
"You do your own maintenance?"
"Er-yup. After effry flight we check and do repairs. One liddle thing out of place and der whole thing could go kaput next time. I hate ven dat happens. Vot we haff is vot we haff to work vit', unless we steal something new."
"Wow." Genuinely impressed, she reconsidered her initial opinion of the air pirates. They weren't completely stupid, at least.
"That's right," said Mad Dog. He had climbed up onto the nose of his plane, just behind the engine. "What the plane can do depends on how good you fly it and take care of it."
"Is there a general mechanic to help too if you need it?"
"Ah, yah, that'd be Ratchet." said Dumptruck. "He fixes effrything goot, and takes care of Cap'n's plane if he doesn't haff time to do it himself."
"The Captain services his own plane?" Her eyes widened.
"Of course. Captain Karnage does all kinds of things that need doing." said Mad Dog, amused by her reaction. "What did you think he does all day?"
"Listen to himself talk."
They snorted in laughter. "Nah, that's only if he finishes effrything else." said Dumptruck. "Mad Dog can show you der engine if you want."
"Uh… sure. I'm not really good with technical things though."
"That's okay, neither are we." Mad Dog set aside a wrench and reached down. "Help her up, oaf."
Magdalen squeaked in surprise when Dumptruck grabbed her by the waist and set her on his shoulders. He glanced up and quickly decided to study the riveted floor. "Oh, er, sorry, I won't peek at your skirt."
"Don't worry, it's why I wear leggings. I'd like some warning before you do that again, though."
"Sorry."
Magdalen grabbed Mad Dog's hand. He pulled her against the plane in a more comfortable position. Satisfied that she was ready to listen to him, Mad Dog retrieved his wrench. "This here's the gas tank. There's a hose that runs underneath and out the bottom. That can be trouble if the hose gets shot. The fan belt pulls the gears that connect to this, this, and this."
She couldn't tell the components apart from one another, so she only nodded. A thought struck her. "Why do you guys like being pirates?"
From below, Dumptruck answered first. "We haff somewhere to be, and nobody telling us vot to do. Except for der Captain." he added in afterthought.
Mad Dog nodded excitedly. "Yeah! No one wanted me around, so when I met Captain Karnage, I thought, 'why not?' Who else can say they've grappled a plane and boarded it in mid-air, all just to plunder it?"
"Isn't that dangerous?"
"Oh sure! That's the best part! Anybody who doesn't become good at it doesn't last long, if you get my drift."
"So… You must be really good at it by now, then."
"You'd better believe it. I'm an ace sharpshooter, too. That helps."
"But what about following the law and all that? Aren't you afraid of getting caught?"
Mad Dog went to scratch his ear, and knocked himself with his wrench instead. "I used to be. It doesn't matter anymore. The Captain knows what he's doing, even if he seems a bit crazy."
Magdalen started to ask another question. A pile of clattering oilcans fell over. A yellow canine with dynamite sticks tied around his arms stood there with an open can upside-down, wondering why the oil gushed out the bottom. Mad Dog sighed in exasperation and threw the wrench onto the floor.
"Cap'n's gonna be mad if you don't clean that up, Hacksaw!"
"His name is Hacksaw?" Magdalen asked Dumptruck. The great dane frowned.
"Yah. He's…. special."
Hacksaw finally realized why the oil was escaping all over his feet and hurried to put it down. "I know, I know!" he cried, "I'll go get the mop and bucket!"
Mad Dog and Dumptruck shook their heads in disappointment for their fellow pirate's intelligence.
"I always wondered how he's lasted so long," grumbled Mad Dog.
"Maybe I should help him." She tapped on Dumptruck's top hat. "You can put me down now. Thanks for showing me everything, guys."
Dumptruck set her down. "Yer welcome, girly. Haff fun with der oil spill."
Magdalen ran after Hacksaw. She lost sight of him when he disappeared around the planes. She followed her ears to an open door leading into a messy storage room. A bucket on wheels slid across the floor and stopped at her feet. It had a fine mesh screen stretched over the top, bent inward below the rim. A moment later Hacksaw came out carrying a mop. She waved at him.
"Hi! Do you need any help?"
Hacksaw automatically looked behind him to see who she was talking to. "Me?"
"Yes, you, silly. Want any help mopping up the oil?"
Hacksaw thought hard. Her offer didn't make any sense to him. Still, he wasn't going to say no. He grabbed the bucket and pinned a funnel under his arm, glancing questioningly back at Magdalen as she trailed after him.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes I'm sure, Hacksaw."
Somehow she already knew his name. Well, he'd come across stranger things in his lifetime. He began mopping up the puddle of spilled oil and squeezed it out into the bucket. Magdalen watched how he did it and did the same. They cleaned together in an awkward silence. Why was she helping him? Nobody helped him after he'd made a mistake. And couldn't he say something to her?
"Er… I like your show," he mumbled.
"Really?" she wrung out her mop and leaned on it, smiling. "Thank you. What do you like about it?"
This time he didn't have to think long. "It makes me laugh."
She giggled and prodded the bucket. "Hey, what's this screen for?"
"It's for straining out the bad stuff in the oil."
"You don't just throw it out?"
"Oh no no no! It's still good oil, even if it did fall on the floor. When we're done, it gets poured back into the barrel and I'll fix that hole. Every drop is important."
She nodded. "How do you guys get enough fuel to run the Iron Vulture?"
"We have a refueling station out west. The Cap'n has to make enough money or plunder enough to trade for it."
"Oooh." She chased a particularly slippery spot of oil across the floor before she could mop it up. She made a mental note to start a list of things Don Karnage had to do as Captain. "Hey, why do you like being a pirate?"
At this Hacksaw stopped, tilted his head to the ceiling and squinted, pondering. His eyes brightened. "I'm my own self with no one else to look out for. I get someplace to sleep, two meals a day, and interesting things to do, like watch the cockroach races."
"Ew." Magdalen wrinkled her nose. "Do you fly a fighter plane like Mad Dog and Dumptruck?"
"No, I don't have my own plane. Someday I'll find a girl, though!" He flipped his mop over and kissed it. "A girl who will be all impressed and think I'm dashingly handsome for being a pirate!" He spat out some oil, wondering how his muzzle was now covered in it. He went back to mopping.
She tried not to laugh at him. "Is it hard to be a pirate?"
"There are lean times, like when there's nothing to plunder. Cap'n Karnage gets testy when you make mistakes, but at least he doesn't kill you for them like my old Captain."
"Kill you?"
Hacksaw didn't answer, and instead peeled the greasy mesh off the bucket. He wheeled it over to the broken oilcan and handed her a funnel.
"Hold this."
"Okay." Her slick paws made it hard to hold on to the smooth funnel. Between the two of them, they put the oil back into the can. Hacksaw pulled a round cork from his pocket and hammered it into the hole with his fist.
"There, that'll fix it. Whose bright idea was it to put a hole in the bottom of the can? I only needed a few drops for my hammock hinges. I'll be able to get that out of my fur. Uh… thanks for helping."
Magdalen curtsied and almost slipped. "You're welcome. I think I'll be doing some writing now. It was nice meeting you."
Unused to this politeness, he blushed. "Nice meeting you too. Will I be in your story?"
"Maybe." She hurried away, eager to get back to her cabin. She managed to make it out of the hanger before bursting into a fit of giggles. The 'upside-down' oilcan had been sitting right side up when they repaired it.
To be continued….